Come and Join the Writing Conversation!

Writing tips.

Ways to tap into inspiration.

Glimpses into the beautiful and messy life of a writer and mother.

Insight into why our life stories matter.

If you’re passionate about any of these things, I invite you to join me on www.katemeadows.com.

I’ve had such a blast getting to know my followers, commenters and readers by connecting on wordpress.com. Recently I switched my site to wordpress.org, and if you haven’t already, I hope you’ll come follow me and connect with me there. The content, the theme, the pictures – it’s all still there, along with a few new features including information about my books, Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood (published by Pronghorn Press this fall) and my self-published small business history, Bucky’s: Stories and Recollections from 50 Years in Business.

My site, Kate Meadows Writing and Editing, is a place where I hope conversations will take root. It’s a place where I hope beautiful words will be shared and connections with others will be meaningful. Hopefully, you’ll hear some good stories along the way.

You can follow my blog by visiting www.katemeadows.com and clicking the “Follow” button on the bottom right. (When I switched my blog from www.wordpress.com to www.wordpress.org, I lost all of my followers. So even if you followed me before, I don’t have you on record as being a follower now.) For every new follower from now until the end of the month, I will donate $1 to Superstorm Sandy cleanup efforts. 

And if you haven’t already, you can “Like” my Facebook page, Kate Meadows Writing and Editing, by clicking here. For every new “Like” from now until the end of the month, I will donate $1 to Superstorm Sandy cleanup efforts AND enter your name into a random drawing to receive a free copy of Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood.

Finally, if you are interested in receiving a periodic newsletter in the future, please let me know. Of course, I will not share your information with anyone.

So come on over, and let the conversation begin! Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Book Publication and Birth: A Tale of Two Converging Loves

I never meant for it to happen this way.

I couldn’t have planned it if I tried.

Indeed, truth is often stranger than fiction.

Here I am, though, with a new baby and two books being published this month. Yes, two.

How? I don’t quite know, except that life happens.

Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood, published this month by Pronghorn Press, recounts my experience as an only child growing up among the raw and grisly characters in rural western Wyoming. It began in 2008 as a collection of essays for my Master’s thesis in creative nonfiction writing. I knew from the get-go I would go all the way with it, writing the pieces one at a time, piecing them together with a thread of a theme (what does it mean to be tough?), and eventually pursuing publication, sending out query after query until a “yes” finally came.

The “yes” did come – but, unexpectedly, so did a positive pregnancy test, three days later.

That “yes,” along with the blue “+” sign on the stick, came while I was knee-deep in work on my family’s small business history. Bucky’s: Stories and Recollections from 50 Years in Business, commemorates the grit and determination of a small-town service, repair and retail shop doing whatever it took to survive off of a quiet western main street. I began the project while Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood grinded its way through the query mill, back before a pregnancy was even on the horizon. The business history was a grand effort in helping my family carve out its well-deserved legacy. It was to be for me a venture in self-publishing, my intention to learn the ropes of the trade to be better informed and equipped as a writer during this tumultuous time in the publishing industry. I planned to publish the “Bucky’s book,” as it affectionately came to be called, in June 2012.

Then the nod came for Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood.

Then I got pregnant.

In other words, life happened.

And here I am, with a baby who was born the end of July, a book of essays to be published on schedule by a traditional publisher, and a self-published small business history that, due to life circumstances, was postponed for release until September – the month of the business’ annual grand open house.

So we leave next week, traveling from California to Wyoming, where for the better part of the month I will be promoting my work. September will be a crazy month. But I can’t wait.

I go into it with heart racing and eyes bright with excitement. Here are the moments where the hard, dogged work will be worth it. Finally, I will meet the finished products.  Works of art into which I put my whole self. I will get to talk about this craft I love so much. I get to share words, encourage others to share theirs, and talk about the value of preserving life stories and leaving legacies.

This is work that I love. I am packing my bags now.

Please, join me if you can. Click here for a list of events.  Stay tuned for upcoming readings and get-togethers in California. And, if you’re interested in using Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood as a pick for a book group, ordering copies of either book, or learning more about the crafts of creative nonfiction writing and/or telling your own life story, please get in touch.

Writing, at its very core, is about communication. If I can reach people, if I can inspire and encourage, only then can I smile and say to myself, “Job well done.”

Imperfect Books

I have a confession to make.

I published an imperfect book.

Why do I tell you this?

Because, if I’m honest, it’s a bit of a jubilant thing for me.

I am so much a perfectionist that I miss sometimes the whimsy, the messy and out-of-place pieces of life for what they really are: reflections of reality. I am known to take things too seriously, not laugh enough, not cut myself any slack.

I had a vision when I set out to piece together the history of my family’s small business. That vision, after a year and a half, is nearly realized. Bucky’s: Stories and Recollections from 50 Years in Business, is finished. Soon a box of what I hope to be beautifully crafted books will arrive. The moment of truth awaits on the doorstep.

Will this book be loved by those who have a stake in it? Will it be treasured by those who have already purchased a copy?

Even with its surefire blemishes – certainly there is a comma missing here, a missed paragraph indent here – I am daring enough to think so. I am also daring enough to say there is no such thing as a perfect book – because there is no such thing as a perfect human or a perfect life – and that, in the end, it doesn’t matter.

You know why?

Because the readers of this book will focus on the meat of the thing – the language and the real-life stories that have stitched together a half-century of awe and struggle in a slice of small town America.

The readers will see past the missed commas and indents and any other small slight to what really matters: lasting stories that are communicated on the page, a shared dialogue.

A writer can work and work and work on a book and still, it will never be fully ready to enter the world. It’s a bit like having kids: you’re never truly ready to become a parent.

But at some point, you set aside your fear and insecurities, the need for everything to be just so, and you say a prayer and you jump.

If you can look beyond the missing comma, the stray hair – or, staying with the parent metaphor, the kitchen floor that is sticky with spilled orange juice – you will see a bigger, messier and more beautiful picture that is entirely worth embracing.

You might smile to yourself, allow yourself a sweet deep breath and think, “Yes. This, this is worth it.”

 

 

Your Story is Bigger Than You

What if your story, whatever life story you have to tell, is about more than you?

I speak about and advocate for telling our life stories. At a recent workshop, I encouraged attendees to think outside of themselves when they resolve to put a story down – be it their own, their family history, their small business, what have you.

One man, who has been at work on his family history for 30 years, asked why.

Why do I need to think about others, he asked, when my primary motivation to explore my family history is to learn more about who I am?

New York fountain. Copyright 2010 Kate Meadows.

It was a good question, and I wasn’t shocked to hear it.

But I think we so often fail to think outside of ourselves when we pursue our own endeavors. So often, we think, a) no one else will care; or b) this story won’t do anyone else any good, when in reality, the opportunities to speak to others through are stories are simply untapped goldmines waiting to be explored.

This same man, in his tireless pursuit for names, dates and places of long-dead or long-lost family members, found a treasure trove of stories lurking beneath that hard data – stories I don’t think he necessarily bargained for. He wrote letters to people asking for information, and received stories and memories in return. You know what that tells me? Others in the family besides him have an interest in the family legacy.

When I suggested this to him, he nodded, as if giving me the benefit of the doubt. Then, he was quiet for a long time.

A year and a half ago, I set out to piece together a complete small business history. I wrote letters to 250 of the business’ mainstay customers, asking for their stories and memories of how the business had been a part of their lives.

I had no idea who, if anyone, would respond.

For a while, no one responded.

Then, some stories started to trickle in. Followed by more. And more.

In the end, thanks to the submissions I received, the history of the business was, in page numbers, twice as large as I had bargained for.

Know what that means?

People besides myself and my family became invested in the larger story. People had something to say; they wanted their hand in it. Now, still pre-publication, the book has sold almost 150 copies.

That tells me this small business history is about more than just the business itself. It comprises threads of numerous people’s lives, people who care about their part in the larger story.

Consider your own story. Who is a part of it? Would they care to know it? How can you reach out to others with your own message?

Taming the Lack-of-Confidence Beast

At a recent Telling Our Life Stories workshop I hosted, a man attended who has been working on his family history longer than I’ve been alive.

I was daunted at first, wondering what I as a (ahem) young writer could possibly teach him that he didn’t already know.

That old wavering, persistent voice of insecurity threatened to tear me down. Who did I think I was, offering strangers tips and advice for how to effectively tell their own life stories? Would this man think my presentation was a joke? Would anyone else, for that matter?

I pushed my fear and doubt aside and did my best to be confident in what I was presenting.

And you know what? People listened. They asked questions. This man, who was so deep into his own family history, took notes as I talked. He even approached me afterward and asked if we could spend some one-on-one time together so he could get my input on some specific challenges he was facing regarding his project.

Isn’t it funny how we can so easily doubt ourselves? How easily that familiar fear of failure creeps up on us.

Online entrepreneur Pat Flynn addresses his own battle with confidence this way:

“… When I was told by a successful colleague to write an eBook for my site, I thought of every excuse not do it:

• ‘I don’t know how to make an eBook.’
• ‘I don’t think it’s going to sell very well.’
• ‘People will be upset because most of the material can be found for free on the blog already.’
• ‘I’m not a good writer.’
• ‘There are probably other books that are way better out there already.’

This lack of self confidence delayed any sort of action on my eBook, and it was only after several other people begged me to write it, including a couple of my own readers who heard I had thought about it and said they were already waiting to pay for it when it was finished, did I finally take action and do it.”

As a result, Flynn writes, he finished the book in a couple of months, and it sold very well. After $250,000 in sales, not one person had complained about the same content appearing on the Website. His writing improved as a result of producing the book, and perhaps there were others books out there that were better than his, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered? He shoved excuses and insecurities aside, put his nose to the grindstone and went to work on something he ultimately believed in. Sure that voice of doubt probably lingered every step of the way, but he tamped it down.

Fear of failure will always exist. Sneaky nudges of insecurity will always threaten to seep into your work, your attitude. But I think more often than not, the hardest person to convince that we and our work matter is not the complete stranger in the audience or the friend sitting across the table.

The hardest person to convince that we and our work matter is ourselves.

Let’s stop being our own worst critics and give ourselves some credit for the good that we do. A little extra dose of believing in yourself can go a long way.

How do you respond to moments of insecurity?

Telling Our Life Stories: A Workshop Opportunity

Telling Our Life Stories.

What does that mean, and what does it consist of? How do you do it? Why does it matter?

These are the questions I have been churning over in my mind this week, as I prepare a workshop to present in a couple of weeks in Anaheim, CA.

Ragged Point Inn, Pacific Coast, CA, Copyright 2012, Kate Meadows

As someone who has been writing and sharing stories all my life, I wonder how to pull apart the pieces, how to dissect common sense knowledge from expertise, how to teach interested people about this stuff I find so fascinating.

Mostly, I want to spark inspiration. I want to plant seeds of hope inside people, encourage them to pursue those projects that may have been nipping at the back of their minds for weeks or months or years. I want to awaken that voice that always says, Someday I want to … [write my family history. Explore the themes that have defined my life up to this point. Get the story of my small business in writing so I can share it with customers, family and friends. Insert your own goal here.]

Someday. It’s a big, all-encompassing, vague word. I am here to encourage people that the time is now. When, if not now, is that family history, small business history, or personal exploration going to take shape?

If the answer is someday, it may as well be never.

My workshop, “Telling Our Life Stories,” will be a springboard, I hope, into the how and why life stories are significant, who they can touch, the messages they can communicate to others. The workshop will be a chance for people to learn, to think more deeply about their projects and effective ways to begin them and tell them.

I want people to walk away feeling excited and confident about the story they have to tell. The pastor who has amassed tons of genealogical history tracing his family roots? I want to give him a map of how to put it all together in an effective way. The middle-aged woman whose father survived a Hawaii tsunami and tells her about it over the phone all the time? I want to give her resources and ideas for how to turn that story into a legacy that can be passed down to future generations of her family.

This workshop is broad and far-reaching, with plenty of chances for further conversation and questions about individual projects as we go along.

And in this space, I will offer myself as a resource, as well. As a writer and editor who can help others more effectively tell their stories, spread their messages, or define the audience they want to ultimately reach.

If you live in the Orange County area and want to attend this workshop, please come. It will take place at 10 a.m. Saturday, June 16, at Hephatha Lutheran Church (5900 East Santa Ana Canyon Road, Anaheim, CA). The workshop is free.

If you don’t live in the area but are interested in working with me, please get in touch.

Above all, if you have a project you have been wanting to pursue – a personal history, family history, or small business history – get serious about it. Choose a few hours a weekend, one weeknight per week, or even a small getaway to start working on it.

Make the time be now, not someday.

*If you are working on or want to work on a particular life stories project, what is one nagging question you have about the work involved?

*If you could start writing your life story today, what would be your opening sentence?

Hard-Earned Lessons about Hard Decisions

Recently, I made a hard decision.

I opted to push back self-publication of the small business history, Bucky’s: Stories and Recollections from 50 Years in Business, by three months. Now, instead of coming out in June, the book will make its debut in September.

I agonized over this decision for many months. I lost sleep over it. If I am painfully honest, I cried over it. Part of me felt like I wouldn’t be sticking to my word if I botched a deadline. Part of me felt like a failure for not meeting the initial deadline.

Copyright 2010, Kate Meadows, Omaha, NE

Until I realized something: the deadline was a date I had set, a deadline I had been feverishly working toward, a deadline I hadn’t even concretely communicated to many people who had pre-ordered the book.

All of the pressure to get this project done by a certain time was self-imposed. Who but me would challenge my integrity if I pushed back the project? Who but me would think I was a failure?

Then, another realization struck me. I could have the book finished by June, if I really wanted to.

It would just be a mediocre book. I would have to cut corners, strike content, fly through the photo layout and just hope I put images in the right place and that they looked okay.

Where then, I asked myself, would be the integrity?

What’s more, the entire reason for pushing the project back rested on this reality: I had received so much content for the book – so many memories and stories, photos and newspaper clippings – from people who wanted to contribute that I simply couldn’t keep up with it all as it poured in.

This is to say that, when I set out to piece together 50 years of stories and recollections of a small-town business and reached out to the business’ customers and people in the local community for help, the response was overwhelming. The project itself morphed into something more monumental and wonderful than I ever could have anticipated.

Turns out, when you ask for stories and recollections about Bucky’s Outdoors in Pinedale, Wyoming, people have a lot to say.

Failure? No. Simply a remarkable story in the making.

C Hope Clark, writer and editor of the newsletter www.fundsforwriters.com, recently shared this knock-out quote by William James: “When once a decision is reached, dismiss absolutely all responsibility and care about the outcome.”

In other words, make a decision and move on, going forward confidently in the path you have chosen without looking back or second-guessing.

When I finally made the decision to push back the book’s publication, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. My work felt lighter and freer, more manageable and more joyful. I haven’t looked back since, because I know that by pursuing my work in this lighter spirit, the outcome will be knock-out beautiful – a product that, I hope, will bowl readers over.

For more on this project, visit www.buckysstory.com.

Have you agonized over any difficult decisions lately? What was the outcome? If you haven’t yet reached an outcome, what can you do to be proactive about moving forward?