A Love Letter to Self-Publishing. (Maybe.)

This? Really all you need to know about me.

(Also available in a lovely soft yoga tank, in case you're so inclined.)

Where did this INTENSE will to persist come from. Dunno. Divine is my best guess, but I'm owning this character trait like a boss, because it continues to serve me well, especially during this adventure into the roller coaster ride that is self-publishing.

'Cause damn you self-publishing. You can be kinda a bitch.

And while (too many times to count really), I've wanted to take you into the nearest dark alley and beat you into a pulp, somehow I've come out of this adventure learning a whole lot more about myself.

So here goes. Let's wrap this last day of this #DontSettle Summer with a public acknowledgement of the top five things you've taught me.

Sometimes a girl just needs a record of how far she's come.

And sometimes, she just needs to share her experiences with the world, because while no doubt there is shared strength in the struggle, there's even more strength in shared survival:

1.  I wrote a damn book. Yeah. No shit. But unless you've actually written a book, you probably, no definitely, don't know the self-discipline it takes to write a damn book. We live in a world where writers get so little respect, because everyone can technically write. Newsflash:  Writing is a craft. An art. A gift. Own it!

2.  Once upon a time, I saw self-publishing as a failure. That somehow not being accepted into the traditional system made my work less worthy or important. Or that I was a second-rate talent.

Nah. Not even close.

Self-published authors are bad ass. Why? Because no one is pushing us to finish our projects OTHER THAN OURSELVES! My book could have easily resided on my computer, well, forever. Who would have noticed, other than moi. But eventually just completing the project, became the most important motivator. Not money. Not fame. Not having an agent. Just finishing what I started.

Lesson? Own your tenacity, because sometimes that's all you've got. 

3.  Finishing a book, and packaging it into a beautiful final product, with, say, a cover, is a great way to weed out the haters. Who, fricken knew? As a self-published author, here's what you're guilty of:  Talking the talk. No doubt, because this dream takes time, you've probably been talking about it. Maybe for a while. (Waving. Ten plus years.)

You've also probably been making moves behind the scenes that no one knows about other than you, your dope husband, and the literal hundreds of agents you've queried. Or the students in that fiction writing class at Brown. Or the agent who finally asked you to the publishing prom, only to quit the business. Or the editor, whose comments made you realize the book she was reading wasn't the one you were trying to write, at all, inspiring you to rip it apart and start all over again.

Nope. The haters are just hearing you talk and talk and talk about your (imaginary) book. The one they truly believe will never see the light of day. Until it does. But instead of being incredibly happy for you, the haters hate. Their anger? Completely understandable. Only the target's a bit off. And instead of being pissed at you, for showing them up, with your drive, they probably should be more pissed at themselves for underestimating you in the first place. B-O-O-M!

4. You're probably gonna suck, at least at first, at selling your words, yup, even if you have a background in public relations/journalism. The problem? It's super hard to make that shift from dreamy fiction writer to thinking like a salesperson.  

All. The. Time.

Indeed, potential new readers are everywhere: Like the Ladies Room on New Year's Eve. Or the Alicia Keys Today Show Concert on the Plaza in NYC. Or that Greek Life College Recruitment Party that you happen to wander into on the beach. But it won't help the cause very much if you only realize this once you get home.

No doubt you'll need to create a detailed, innovative marketing plan. One that you can test and rework objectively, while at the same time not taking the success of the plan, or your book sales personally.

Reminder:  You. Are. Not. Your. Numbers. You are not your reviews. Your worthiness as a person is not wrapped up in the success of your campaigns. Or contests. Or re-tweets. Got it? Good. Me too.

5.  Pick an end date. Nah. Not for retirement from writing, as my horrified dental hygienist thought I was describing on my last visit. More like a finish date for your current project where you can celebrate your damn accomplishments. Of simply finishing. Bravely putting it out in the world. Selling it. To complete strangers (for which I am eternally grateful and still trips me out). 

This date, which just happens to be today for me, is also about looking forward in anticipation to the future. Of the opportunities that you don't even know exist. Of the seeds that you may have already planted (like, maybe in early June, hollah!) or the ones that you're currently sowing right now. And truth be told, I'm bubbling over in anticipation.

Because I, am just getting started.

And for you, Settling Down, my literary partner in crime, here's the Oscar speech you'll probably never get. (Unless Netflix or Jennifer Aniston make you into a movie. Stranger things have happened.) Anyway, thanks for helping me grow. As a writer. As a person. Thanks for reminding me who my biggest cheerleaders are, even if they'd look kinda scary in a short, pleated skirt. Thanks for teaching me about cover design, page formatting and numerous hard ass technical skills I hope I never have to use again. Thanks for reminding me that writing is passion. But more importantly, my calling. I'll try not to doubt it again. (Or at least not every other day.)

And rest assured that I'll never, ever, settle.

We done good kid.

Fearless, Girl!

What. You thought this #DontSettle Summer was all about free stuff?

(Well, mostly. Big ups to Jenny H., for scoring thefirst round of Settling Down swag on Facebook, as well as all 300+ of you who entered. There'll be more where that came from.)

But in the meantime, a brief take-down, of that little hussy,  Good Enough. 

Believe me. It's kinda personal.

For most of my life, me and Good Enough were besties. Inseparable even. Good Enough was my protector. A voice against the critics. A safety blanket against fear. Against errything.

And I worked her like a boss.

Or maybe she worked me. 'Cause that chick Good Enough is a trickster. 

Good Enough comes from the Latin (not really) phrase meaning:  'One who does the most basic of requirements, in order to complete the task at hand, specifically to avoid failure, success, attention of any kind or being challenged by anything or anyone around her.'

In concrete terms, Good Enough is the C+ on that 10 page research paper you wrote in 45 minutes. Good Enough is the dude who has 3 of your basic requirements and one of them is breathing. Good Enough is that unflattering sundress that winds up in your closet on price alone. Good Enough is tricking yourself, and everyone around you, into believing that you are trying your hardest, when you're really only working on 20 percent.

If you have no desire to grow, well, ever, this is an excellent place to be. It's quiet here in the land of low expectations. And predictable. There's absolutely no pressure. Or disappointments. Or criticisms, outside of the silent ones going down in your own head.

But this life, while seemingly safe, is also hella boring. 'Cause once you saddle up with Good Enough, not only do you give up all claim to your fierce power and the magic that you're capable of, all by yourself, but you also give up all of the amazing things life has in store for you, just because:  You simply believe that you deserve them.

And this, my friends, may be the biggest #DontSettle argument of them all.

May My Inspiration For Writing Settling Down Inspire Your (Single) New Year's Resolutions

"I'm always with him, because:  That. Is. What He Is. There. For."

As with all revolutions, this one started with a proverbial shot. Only this one emanated from a childhood friend's mouth. Someone that I had literally grown up with. 

Or so I thought.

Truth is, what started as a convo about friendship (ours), free time (the majority of it spent with her boyfriend) and working on the balance of the two, her angry words said way more.

About herself. What she wanted in life. And more importantly, what she was willing to sacrifice to get there. Unfortunately, this wasn't a place that I could comfortably stand anymore.

Indeed. I believe in love. Passionately.

I believe in romance. Of relationships. Of marriages, partnering up, of finding someone who will help you grow into your best self. In fact, the growth that I've experienced being married to my husband is something that I know I would have never experienced on my own.

I am IN love. Someone asked me that, quite randomly (and kinda frantically) at a nightclub a few years back. The answer is yes. Twenty-four years and counting (17 of them married), and I can honestly say that I did a surprisingly good job picking my mate.

It's what my husband 'is there for', that's a little different. His job is to challenge me to evolve into a better person, something he accomplishes on the daily -- instead of being a physical symbol that I am lovable. And there's a huge difference there. Because in order to get to this healthy place at all, I had to learn how to love myself first, instead of aimlessly looking for someone to complete me.

'Cause that never works.

The thing about settling, especially if you don't know yourself, is it won't even register at first. It's the long game where you'll miss out. Because, instead of waiting for Mr. Amaze-balls, someone who will help make you a better person, settlers desperately choose the wrong partner, simply because they don't want to be alone.

You don't want this life.

So how about you make it your New Year's resolution. To rejoice in being single. To embrace the fact that you're really okay being alone. Instead of being alone until the next guy shows up. Because, there's a difference.

If you need some help, a fictional guidebook if you will, I wrote Settling Down as my gift to you.

And while it was initially inspired by real life events, I was intent on writing a better ending.

Back to Life

"When the place that you were born is not where you belong.

Tell me baby, what stops you from wearing a crown"

This is how my birthday kicked off this year.

In NYC. At 4am. In the sidewalk shadows before sunrise.

With these soulful lyrics by Ms. Alicia Keys that almost made me cry.

Because (vulnerable moment alert):  This. Is Me.

The place where I was born, is not where I belong. 

(And trust. No one mentioned anything 'bout any crown.)

So, how do become your own queen? The empress of your own kingdom? Especially when there's roadblocks at every turn? Easy (in concept):  Learn to love your damn self. Fiercely. Passionately. Above anything else. In spite of everything else. With wild reckless abandon.

And while it's a simple concept, the journey to get there isn't.

That path is incredibly hard. And so rocky most don't even try to scale it. Often times it's littered with the broken dreams of others and their truths (read: falses) for themselves, and you.

But you can, and need to claw your way beyond the negative voices. The ones that put down your choices. The ones that say that you're not good enough. The ones that say that you don't matter.

Because, dammit, dear girl. You do!

You deserve to wear that crown, polished to a blinding brilliance, with your head held high. You deserve to stride away from any negativity that binds you to the past. From the hurtful lies that kept you from growing. And achieving. And owning the fearless one of a kind Y-O-U.

You deserve to shine. Brighter than any damn diamond.

Years after embarking on this journey, here I was, in the darkness right before the dawn. On the Today Show Plaza:  Whole. Healed. Happy. Proud as hell of who I am now, and what I've already accomplished. But more importantly, who I have the potential of becoming. 'Cause that chick? She got mad untapped potential.

And then, that song, ironically called 'Back To Life'. A truly beautiful birthday blessing.

A reminder that not only am I wearing that sparkly crown that I designed myself.

I'm working it like a boss.