I hope you will join me on Monday, May 20 at 6 pm MST for a live twitter interview and chat with Andre Gensburger.  You can stream the chat  by going to tweetchat.com and using the hashtag #misterwriter.

The interview and chat will focus on writing, art, and life in general and should be a ton of fun.  My twitter handle is @sfsculptor. Andre’s is @MisterWriter. This came about because Andre read my first book, Shaping Destiny. Here’s his Amazon review of the book:

“When I first bought his book I expected a simple mix of a life of an artist. It only took a page to find myself immersed in a raw journey quite aside from the journey of a sculptor; rather a beautifully written and profoundly expressed reflection of my own life’s questions seen through the eyes of someone I have never met. What Destiny writes about is life, raw, unadulterated, brutally honest, haunting, and yet somehow poetic in the complex meanderings that brought out, for her, her true self, her passions, her career, a deep understanding of life and death and, perhaps more importantly, of motherhood. It is only after she has run full circle through her past, her pains, the loss of her father and grappling with an understanding of her own self-worth, that she ends in a place of optimistic peace, still taking on challenges, but without the tempest that had preceded it. At the end, it has become a dance.

I had to read this straight through. I could not put it down. What Destiny sees and feels in her art, I see and feel in music, words; what I observe when I hide in a corner and watch the world without the world seeing me. I was fixed to her brutal honesty, the raw pain conveyed without the cliched obscenities or graphic violence we expect of writers. Her words flowed smoothly, thoughts to actions to feelings to emotion, all the while tying the lessons to the threads of her art, her growth as an artist, told in tandem, each leading to the next lesson until she has fully emerged.

Life is pain with love sprinkled throughout. Or life is love with pain sprinkled throughout. There is a lot of sprinkling of both, along with hope and understanding. I highly recommend this book and look forward to her next one. And here I thought she was a sculptor!”

I was deeply honored by Andre’s review and, over time, we’ve become good friends. I have a great deal of respect and admiration for him. He has several interesting ventures. To find out more about him and the upcoming event, visit his website by clicking here.

Hope you can join us and weigh in on the conversation.

Reblogged from M.S. Fowle:

• 

I've never said this to any of you, but PLEASE REBLOG THIS! We need as many people as possible to see it, even if you live overseas - PLEASE REBLOG or REPOST!

This past Sunday night, a local teenage girl went missing and no one has seen or heard from her since.

15-year-old Nichole Kristine Cable of Glenburn, Maine was last heard from Sunday night at around 9:20pm.

Read more… 369 more words

Reblogged from helenvalentina:

The crumbling shale on the small cliff beckoned, siren-like. There were fossils there – seashells and ancient worms, bits of bone and feathery plants – each a testament to time and mystery. I stopped the car, grinned impishly at my husband, and bolted across the worn, dirt road.

Without thinking, I scrabbled up the steep slope, grabbing bushes, rocks, and dirt to keep from sliding. At the top of the ledge, I began digging amid the rubble. There were fossils everywhere and I was, for a moment, a child again.

After the initial rush, I slowed some to savor the cool air and mountain scents – pungent pine, gooseberry tickle, wet earth coursing with spring. It was then I noticed the poison ivy growing dark and glossy along the edge of the cliff. I pointed it out to my husband and continued to search for ancient relics.

We found more than we could count and eventually tired. The enthusiasm had waned and the day was losing its battle with low clouds and light rain. We discarded our treasures, shared a kiss, and scampered back to the car.

The next morning, I woke scratching. By the time my eyes were fully open, I was clawing at my skin. Sure enough, the distinctive rash was blooming and you don’t want to know how much I itch.

Why am I telling you this? It’s not really to elicit your sympathy (though I wouldn’t mind it – I’m a baby when it comes to stuff like this). I’m telling you because the experience is an apt metaphor for life.

We all rush sometimes. Whether it’s to get to a final destination, because we’re so excited about what we’re doing, or because we’re tired and just want the project – book, sculpture, painting, exercise routine, whatever – to end. The problem is, rushing never works.

How many indie books are improperly formatted or riddled with poor writing, grammatical mistakes, and typos? How many artists rush to finish a painting and mess it up because they didn’t let the previous layer dry all the way? How many idiots like me go tramping through the woods without paying attention to their surroundings and end up with poison ivy, a twisted ankle, or even lost?

Laurence Gonzales wrote a great book called Deep Survival: Who lives, Who dies, and Why. In it, he talks about how and why emotions overrule logic in heightened situations and reveals that those who are fully present in the moment are the ones most likely to survive. If you haven’t read it, pick it up. Even if you don’t spend much time in the woods, what he talks about can be applied to any stressful situation (and by stressful, I mean anything that makes your heart hammer, be it joy or terror).

Deep Survival is one of my favorite non-fiction books and I should have known better. If I had been fully attentive, instead of consumed by my excitement, I would be writing a different post today, my wrist wouldn’t be raging with itch, and I wouldn’t be scouring the internet for relief. Then again, if I weren’t, I wouldn’t have found this nugget on Wiki How:

“Use gasoline as an absolute last resort. If you’re camping, have an extremely itchy rash and have no other options, gasoline, like alcohol, can help to dissolve oils from poison ivy or poison oak. Never go near an open flame if you’ve applied gasoline to your rash.”

Oh my god! I laughed so hard when I read that. Again, the urge to get what we want often dilutes common sense and creates much bigger problems for us to deal with.

The moral? Impatience breeds disaster. If you don’t slow down, pay attention to the details, and care about the process as much as the destination, you’ll get what you deserve. I did and it’s not fun.

How about you? Do you rush when you’re excited? Are there ways you calm yourself down enough to stay steady and do it right? Let me know. I love your comments.

We spent some time at Trinidad Lake State Park yesterday –skipping rocks, finding treasures, fighting wind. Desolate and beautiful, it was just what we needed. The raw land, empty shores, and cloudy skies were a validation and a purge. Standing on a small bluff, amid crumbling shale and petrified wood, all I could think was, “This too shall pass.”

It’s been a little rough lately. My regular business hit a bump and my partners and I have been in reaction mode. It’s my least favorite place to be.  I like the creative stuff — getting my juices flowing and staying up late plotting new and different ways to connect with our market and positively impact our little corner of the world. Unfortunately, our community is currently divided over a multitude of seemingly inconsequential issues. Warring neighbors, rigid in their own beliefs, dominate the feel of the very air we breathe.

The biggest debate? Chickens. Some days, it’s comical.  Most of the time, it just hurts. As the issue has swelled in local media, the fight has gotten even uglier. In reality, only a few people on each side really care. Locked into a group think mentality, they are like automatons chiming a pre-programmed ideology. There’s no listening, conversation, or solution. As this debate wages, vicious and loud, other issues are popping up all over and our collective, community tension continues to escalate.  Fear of losing a particular quality of life has destroyed the quality of life each side is trying so hard to protect. Some days, I want to plant a series of stop signs along the edge of our commercial property. The last seven signs would read Please. Stop. Fighting. This. Is. Our. Home.

While my partners and I work to mitigate the damage, I am simultaneously struggling with how to launch the novel. Terrified of making mistakes, I’m diddling with things instead of moving forward with my plan. My fear is silly. The beauty of self-publishing is that I’m not locked into any one method. If something doesn’t work, it’s not fatal and I can change it. Logically, this makes sense, but emotionally it doesn’t matter.

Today, Seth Godin put up a great post on fear. He says, “Easier to avoid the fear than it is to benefit from living with it. I’ve heard the quote a thousand times but never really thought it through…”

What he’s talking about is pretty profound. Rather than face a fear, we avoid any action that brings us close to it. Instead of putting a work into the world, we keep tweaking it way past the moment when we should have called it done. Tweaking allows us to procrastinate and keep our fear of failure, or success, at bay. Instead of taking that car into a mechanic when the engine light goes on, we wait a few days, or a month, because we don’t want to encounter the fear that something serious might be wrong.

Then, when things come to a head – our business hits that rough patch, a deadline has been missed, or the car breaks down on the freeway, we go into reaction mode. Our blood pressure goes up, we stop sleeping well, and we blame ourselves. That blame does serious damage to the self-confidence we need to be successful.

Last year, my son invited us to go cliff jumping at a lake. Honored that he would include us (he was twenty two at the time) we went. I was content to watch my maniac son and his friends do back flips off a thirty foot cliff into the water. After awhile, watching felt silly. I stepped up to the edge and immediately was overcome by a horrible sense of vertigo. I could not do this. It was insane.

Then I got mad at myself for hesitating. I don’t live my life that way (or at least try to convince myself that I don’t). So, I took a deep breath and went for it, screaming the whole way down.

The water was a perfect temperature and, as it enveloped me, I grinned. Rising to the surface with a thundering heart, my screams of terror became screams of triumph. The cliff had never been my obstacle. Fear was. Facing it, I empowered myself.

Today, after a visit to a different lake, I am remembering what it felt like to conquer fear. In my regular business and in my art business (writing and sculpting) I achieve what I want and need when I jump. Acting, instead of reacting, I plow ahead, brave the cliff, and at least learn something from the experience that will help the next time I’m in the same situation.

The thing is, whether I face my fears or not, this rough patch will pass. So will the launch of the book. The question is, who am I in the process? At the end, as I look back on my life, will the words, “I did that” be a testament to my courage or my cowardice? I know what I want for myself. How about you? Let me know. I love to hear from you.

I don’t know how many times I’ve told people not to give up on their dreams. It seems to be a running theme for me and one I believe in deeply. What I didn’t know was how deeply this belief is ingrained in me or how it seeps through my subconscious into almost everything I do.

On Monday night, my family needed an escape so we went to see Oblivion. While watching the previews, all I could think about was finding the right title to my new book. As the movie began, it popped into my head.  My mouth fell open. Really.  I turned to my husband and whispered it. His eyebrows went up and he smiled.

When the movie ended, he asked, “Why?” I told him and myself at the same time. Without realizing it, I wrote a deep theme into a book I’d thought was just for fun.

Here it is: Not everyone achieves their dreams, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the pursuit, not the attainment, that enable change. Individually, we grow from our pursuits, whether we attain them or not. However, and perhaps more importantly, our individual yearnings — and the steps we take to achieve our dreams — work together to achieve collective change.

I’m part of a word press family called the Rome Construction Crew. This group is all about supporting and inspiring each other to go after and achieve different dreams.   Some of us may not make it, but along the way we’ll develop friendships and greater understanding of ourselves. Collectively, our individual trials and tribulations, may inspire real change beyond what we thought possible.

Think about the Occupy Movement, or the sixties sit-ins. How about different art and literary movements? What happens in a family where all the members have different, personal goals? The struggles of each individual impact the whole and create movement.

I’m going to be thinking and writing about it more — especially as I get ready to launch this book — and I welcome your thoughts, comments, and ideas. How has your pursuit of a dream created growth and/or change in people or circumstances? Please let me know.

BTW, the title of the new book is Pipe Dreams. You can find out more about it here. I plan to release in June. Hope you’ll check it out and, if you sign up for my newsletter, I’ll send you a link where you can download the first two parts for free.

Thanks for hanging with me as I pursue my dreams. Know I’m here as you pursue yours.

Today, I got an excellent reminder of why I avoid the trap of working with or for creative institutions (museums, publishers, etc).

I won’t go into details, except to say a controversial article for which I’d been commissioned, and which received final approval yesterday, was killed this morning out of fear.

Creatives have long been held hostage by the gate keepers, but today the gate keepers are obsolete. There is no reason to silence yourself or believe you aren’t worthy just because someone behind a desk says so.

Years ago, I was represented by a prominent gallery in Santa Fe. At the time I was young, inexperienced, and insecure. The gallery director had agreed, in writing, to pay me a 60% commission on sales. One day, I got a check for 50%. I called the gallery and was informed that the director no longer worked there. I asked to speak to the owner, but he refused to take my call. So I went down to talk with him in person. When I explained the situation, he said, “Do not talk to me. You don’t say a word to me until you are selling $100,000 a year. Until then, you’ll take what I give you. Now get out and don’t bother me again.”

He said this at the top of his lungs on a busy Saturday afternoon. By the time I left, I was in tears.

Fast forward ten years. The previous gallery had gone out of business shortly after my interaction with the owner and he had reopened in another location. I walked into the gallery, not knowing it was his, and he approached me immediately. “Destiny, how are you? What’s happening? You know, I’ve thought a lot about having your work here.” He continued for a few minutes, waxing eloquent about my accomplishments until I stopped him. Then, I said, “I’m sorry A, I sell much more than $100,000 a year now, so I really don’t need to talk to you.” As his jaw dropped open, I turned and left. The encounter was a victory.

Today, steaming mad, I was reminded of this earlier experience. The cowardly editor reaffirmed my decision to go Indie, build my own audience, and not be dependent on people like him. I’ve always used instances like this to push harder and my success continues to be derived by my own efforts, not as a result of some else’s approval.

I will publish this article and I will get slammed for it. That’s okay. I stand behind my ideas and feel like I said what needs to be said. Still, in spite of the nay sayers, some people will like it. They will share their support. Some of them may become friends, others might become fans.

Several people have been credited with this quote, “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.” I agree with it. However, there’s more to it. If we give away our power, succumb to other’s opinions, and silence ourselves as a result, our ideas and imaginings will never see the light of day. Then we have not only failed in business, we have failed as human beings.

Fear is prevalent. Few institutions (agencies, galleries, publishers, museums, etc.) are willing to try something new when they have proven product available. They only embrace the new when it has proved itself to be commercially viable. We have a responsibility, to ourselves and the world, to ensure what we produce is good. We also have the responsibility to stand behind the work we do and let the world experience it. Rejections fuel my fire. Do they fuel yours?

Let me know. I love to hear from you.

I woke this morning to gray skies, cold winds, and a feeling of redundancy. Like the movie, Groundhog Day, it’s as if every day is the same. Wake up, have tea, hit the computer, edit. Edit some more. See if there’s something in the fridge. Eat a PB&J, edit again.

I am in pursuit of perfection. 

I will never attain it. 

I have to try. 

Craig McBreen wrote a good post today on being remarkable. He says, “Many people out there think: ‘I’ll create something remarkable (there’s that word again) and they will come.’”

I won’t tell you where he goes from there. You’ll have to read it for yourselves. Suffice it to say, I agree with him and it’s down right daunting to do the work necessary to achieve your dreams. I know. I did it once and now I’m doing it again, because just achieving one dream isn’t enough.

Creatives can’t settle. Which means they often quit before they’ve even gotten started.

Fear of not being good enough is paralyzing. There is a point (and I expect you to hold me to it) when a work is as good as it’s ever going to be. Then, you have stop, let it go, take a break, and start the next one. It’s the only way we actually make the dream a reality. It is the accumulation, via multiple works, of skill, finesse, and courage that culminate in unique voice and marked achievement.

People always talk about the overnight successes. What they don’t realize is that those successes took twenty years (or five, or ten). All the things that happened while no-one was watching are the things that drive the achievement. And those one-hit-wonders? They’re like lottery winners. Because they didn’t do the work, most don’t have the skills, savvy, or emotional maturity to stay in the game. By the time the money’s gone, they’re right back where they started.

To ensure I don’t get caught up in the tangle of “great,” I’ve set a goal for myself. The novel will be released by summer. No matter what. Yesterday, I finished Part 1. The other six parts are almost there and I will go through each of them carefully, just to make sure they are as good as I can make them RIGHT NOW. I know that next year, or the year after, I’ll look back at this work and smile. I’ll see all the things I didn’t know when I finished it. That’s as it should be because it means I’ve moved on, kept going, and added new skills to my arsenal.

How about you? Do you have a project you’ve been working on too long? Are you afraid of not being good enough? Does that fear stop you from starting or stopping? Let me know. I love your comments.

I went for a walk this morning with a dear friend. The wind blew cold and gusty down the railroad tracks and we fought for breath as we caught up on our lives. My friend is also an artist and writer. Like me, she is involved in multiple projects, pulled in a variety of directions, and often frustrated by her inability to focus on just one thing.

For most creatives, this is a challenge. We’re great at ideas, vision, and inspiration, but we often suck at implementation. Like a five year old on a soccer field, we lose interest in the game when something else catches our attention and sparks our imagination — a butterfly, the way the sunlight makes patterns when we squint our eyes, a dragon shaped cloud.

Often we don’t finish, or start, because its not in our nature. Developing the discipline and skills necessary to produce the work is really hard.

The truth is, inspiration is fickle. The only way to coax it consistently is to work consistently. The only way to get good is to practice and this is not what comes naturally to us. Ugh! Tedium! Delayed gratification! Why would we practice when there are so many wonderful distractions?

The success of any business depends on the right combination of vision and implementation. In my business world, I have a partner who excels at the day to day requirements. He loves them. If he didn’t, our business would have never gotten off the ground. In my creative world, I have to develop and maintain a day to day discipline for myself.

Here are five ways I do that:

1. If I don’t think a piece is good enough after a couple of revisions, I set it aside and start the next one. Laboring over a work for extended periods of time not only kills the work, it kills my drive. 
2. I work every day. Sometimes it’s a blog post. Others it’s a painting, a sculpture, an article, or a fiction piece. No matter what, I spend at least some time every, single day, making something. 
3. I get feedback from people who are willing to be honest with me and I listen, especially when the first thing I do in response is defend. If I have to defend it, it probably isn’t good enough to stand on its own. In addition, when I ask for feedback, I also commit myself to completing the work. Otherwise, I’ve wasted their time and am embarrassed when I have nothing new to report. I may not take all the recommendations, but I don’t want to let them down. 
4. When I get stuck in one media, I switch to another. Changing the way my brain wraps around a problem always helps me solve it. If it’s a sculpture that’s bothering me, I write. If it’s the writing, I work with my hands. Without fail, it gets the juices flowing again. 
5. I give myself deadlines. They’re reasonable, attainable and I stick to them. One of my favorite tools is Google Calendar. I set it up to send me reminders that keep me on track. When my computer yells at me, I’m inclined to listen.

What are some ways you stay disciplined? I love to hear them

Balancing life, work, and family is an ongoing challenge. Often, I’m pulled in so many directions I want to run away. Fantasies of spas and other quiet self-indulgence interrupt my daily endeavors.

I used to feel guilty about this, as if I wasn’t living up to expectations or, worse, was dissatisfied with my life. Then I realized that a) most people do this and b) just because I’m occasionally overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m not doing what I want to be doing. Now, when the fantasies come, I let them. They are a deep breath in the midst of hectic days.

This morning, my grown son dropped off his puppy. Until the puppy is potty trained, he is not welcome at my son’s office and we agreed to baby sit. Ordinarily, the puppy goes to work with my husband. There he has a cute kennel, lots of toys, and people who love to play with him while they’re waiting for service.

Today, my husband had an appointment and the puppy stayed with me and our older dogs. The 19 pound fur ball is a holy terror, a monster with razor teeth and unlimited energy. My poor old dogs hid beneath my desk, jumped in my lap, and wreaked havoc on my morning.

Every so often, the puppy would abandon his pursuit of them and disappear. Then, I had to go hunting. Was he eating the couch? Chewing my favorite boots? Peeing on the carpet? Yikes. By the time I could hand him off, my dogs and I were exhausted.

Needless to say, I got almost nothing done. The list, always long, felt longer. Wasted hours.

Or were they? In retrospect, I smiled a lot this morning, laughed out loud when the puppy dumped the water bowl and proudly dragged it to my feet, flipped a teddy bear over his head and did a backward somersault in pursuit, and spun in circles happily biting his own tail.

Not once during his escapades did I push my hair back, sigh, and wish for an escape. Surprisingly, the escape came to me.