So here we are, in the first week of spring. Real spring, according to the calendar, though weather across the country may disagree.
Here in Tennessee, spring arrived uncharacteristically late. Two weeks ago there was ice and snow everywhere. Over the weekend before St. Patrick’s Day, spring magically arrived overnight, with flowers poking up in the front garden and trees putting on new buds. I’ve never been a fan of winter, so I was really ready for spring to arrive.

It feels like I’ve been waiting for spring for a long time. Just like there are seasons in the world around us, there are seasons in life, and it seems as if I’ve been trapped in winter for ages. There’s a breath of spring now and then, a hint of something green and glorious yet to come, but I never reach it. I’m here, buried beneath a blanket of snow, hibernating, waiting to grow.

This winter has been a long winter, and when you share your personal space with a very clingy, very demanding, very short person 24/7, nothing sounds better than a big open field of flowers where you both can have some space. But life with a toddler at home is a season, like any other. It’s a winter, waiting for growth. It will pass. Just like when you’re in the middle of winter, you know spring will come. Winter will pass.

Trying to reach goals often feels like waiting for winter to end. There’s hard work and positive thinking to keep you moving, but eventually everyone hits a point where all you can do is wait.
So you wait.
Wait for a call, an email, a letter.
Waiting for a break.

Lives roll on like a cycle of seasons. Sometimes autumn isn’t full of pumpkin spice and bright colors. Sometimes your winters are dark and cold and lonely. Sometimes these seasons are painfully long. But neither is a season of death or gloom, just a period of rest, a period for self-improvement and patience. A time for development. For learning. For work. Spring comes when efforts reach fruition and begin to grow.

I’m still waiting for my spring. Waiting for my ship to come in. But looking out at the new growth that heralds the early phases of spring, I know I’ll get there eventually, and all the work I’ve rolled up into a bulb will push stalks through the earth and blossom.

Eventually.

If there’s one thing my husband is probably tired of hearing from me, it’s this: “What should I blog about?”
It certainly isn’t his responsibility to think of things for me to write about, but I always end up turning to him for ideas because I can’t think of things. I don’t know why that is. The decision to write something for my blog every week was my idea, and while I still think it’s important, I always end up drawing a blank when I sit down to actually write. But I still think it’s important, and one reason is because of the self-discovery that comes from it.

Blogging every week has helped me become more centered on the things I’m interested in. Though adventures from daily life work their way in here–and that’s fine–I keep most personal matters away from the blogosphere. Friends who read my blog aren’t here for personal details, and strangers probably aren’t interested. So this space is reserved for interests and stories about adventures only. Not all my friends are interested in my hobbies, so they can pick and choose which links to my blog they follow, depending on if I’m talking about something they’re curious about.

Most of my blog entries in the last year were about writing and books, crafts, tea, and my ball-jointed dolls. These are the things I’m probably going to be focusing on this year. Writing is a really broad category, after all, and there’s thousands of blogs that write about it. There are fewer writers who also blog about their arts and crafts projects, and fewer still who blog about things like my dolls. It’s a small niche, but it’s comfortable, and it gives me someplace to talk about these things without it being buried as just another Facebook status update that’s long enough to be truncated.

Another thing I’ve learned from blogging every week is that blogging is hard. Writing something every week means picking my husband’s brain for topics or ideas, but if I didn’t blog weekly, I might not blog at all.  It’s easy to let passing thoughts slip away without a post coming from them, even if it’s something I’m excited about or an opinion I feel should be shared. It’s tough to make yourself sit and write, though it doesn’t need to be long. While I’ve often thought my blog posts are too short, reading articles about it written by people much more successful than me has taught me that the ideal blog post is something that can be read in 3 to 5 minutes. I’m a faster reader than many, so what I can read in 3 to 5 minutes might not be the same as what others read. Still, it’s something I’m going to try to be more mindful of.

Keeping my blog more focused in 2015? Maybe not gonna happen. But blogging every week? I can probably do that for another year.

Everybody knows that you are your own worst critic.
I’ve often struggled with finding respect for my own work, no matter what it is. Aside from writing, I make a lot of crafts, I do a lot of sewing, and I dabble in art. I get compliments on all of these things, and while I deeply appreciate the kind words people share, it’s difficult for me to accept. I don’t protest, I thank people for their notice, but inside there’s always that small voice that says it could be better.

It can be difficult to keep a positive inner voice. People who struggle with self esteem often struggle to accept praise. A friend of mine wrote a lovely article about improving your inner voice not long ago. Her advice is sound and reflects a lot of practices I’ve worked into my own life this past year, but like anything else, it’s a change that takes time.

It’s also easy to feel like nothing is changing. Like a new mindset doesn’t make a difference. It’s easy to let this discourage you, but don’t! This, too, is normal. And it will pass. Sometimes we just need a small reminder that not everyone is as hard on you as you are.

You see, strangers don’t doubt you. There’s none of the niggling doubt we face from ourselves. If you tell a stranger you’re going to do something, they believe you. You create your own face value, the most important part is to reflect it inwardly, as well. Friends and family can be an excellent support, but some of the most supportive things I’ve heard have come from people I don’t even know.

As an example, an occasion arose where a friend and I were discussing one of my work-in-progress books on Facebook. One of her friends, someone I’d never interacted with before, joined the conversation and asked what we were talking about. She told him I’d written a book. He asked for a link to it on Amazon. I said it wasn’t published. He said “Send me a link when it is.”

When it is.

In three little words, a complete stranger voiced more confidence in me than some people I’ve known for years. I don’t begrudge my friends for this, mind you; I appreciate all their wishes for luck in finding representation. But the simple difference made by choice of words is astounding. When it is. Because even though I made it clear it isn’t yet represented, a stranger believes it will be. Without knowing me or my project. It may seem trivial, but it was a great inspirational boost.

Now all that’s left is making it happen, right?

Sunday night, I posted this fantastic cell phone shot of my laptop’s screen on Facebook:

And if you couldn’t tell just by looking at it, it’s a pretty big thing. It means I just finished the first draft of the second book in my epic fantasy series.

When I set out to write the fantasy book in my head, I didn’t plan for it to turn into a series. It was meant to be one book, but it rapidly grew into something much bigger and more interesting than just one book. But deciding to turn it into a series and actually making that happen is stranger still.

Writing books gets easier as you do it. Or at least, that’s how it seems to me. The first few tries didn’t go well. But this time, it felt like I was finally starting to figure things out. I’d say it took a year to write the second book, but that isn’t exactly true. I started the second book right after I finished the first, but then put the second on hold while I edited the first book a time or two. Or five. Six? I can’t remember any more, but I spent a lot of time editing. I picked the second book up again after I was done. Though the work was spread out over a year, it took about six months to write.

So what comes next? Well, not the third book. Not for a while, in any case. I’m only just beginning the search for representation for the first in the series, and it may take a while to find just the right fit. Fantasy epics can be difficult to sell, but it’ll get out there eventually. Representation for the first book takes priority right now. In between sending queries, I’ll be spending the month of February making the first major edits and adjustments to the first draft of book 2. Then I plan to take a little time off.

I’ve been writing consistently for over a year now and have been making great strides toward reaching my major life goals. But writing for hours every night doesn’t leave much time for anything else, and I miss my other hobbies. I’ll be revisiting some of them before I get back to writing, but I have a lot of plans for when I get back to it. And while it won’t be an installment in the fantasy series, I hope to write another book before the end of summer.

Blaine and Angie miss me, I think. Maybe it’s time to pay them a visit with that sequel everyone keeps asking about.