A Garage Full of Failed Endeavors

   What was I thinking? I must be crazy because I was spending my nice Saturday morning sorting and throwing things out in the dusty, crowded and spider inhabited garage.
    Oh, I know. I'm pregnant and in less than six months I need to have some space in the house prepared for the new baby. This translates into making room in the garage for the stuff I have to move from the house.  (We don't have an extra room to just give the baby, so we're playing musical chairs.)
    Unfortunately, the garage has become a destination for items that are no longer needed or wanted and is a mess. For three years I've tried to fix the problem and just when I get close to an organized and clutter free zone, the kids out grow some toys, or we buy wood for an outdoor project that has to be stored in there.
    I'm about ready to toss it all into the back of a pick up truck and donate it.
    At this point I don't even remember every thing we have stored in the garage. And if I don't remember what's in the garage do I really need it?
   Yes.
   And no.

   I did find a few boxes of childhood treasures. Old journals (was I really that boy crazy?), my sticker album from when I was five (who can part with stickers from the eighties. They're classics.)
    And letters from all my pen pals before there was such a thing as the Internet or email or Facebook. (Yes, children. Mommy used to communicate with her far off friends by writing to them....on paper. And there was this thing called a stamp that would take it to their mailbox.)

    I tossed old magazines, dead pens and broken toys. I was doing a pretty good job too. Until I ran into a couple of different boxes that contained not fond memories but remnants of failed dreams and ideas.
    The sad remains of failed businesses and successes that never happened.
    Well, I wasn't expecting that. This pregnant lady is way too emotional already...being reminded of all the different things I have tried to do and didn't succeed at was a bit too painful. Why did I save them to begin with? I'm not sure.
    I was hoping to torture myself with them later, I guess.

    There's a saying about failing your way to the top. I'm hoping that's true, otherwise the only thing I'm good at succeeding at...is well, failing.

    I looked at the first engagement photos I took for a friend of mine. They weren't bad. The expressions were good, some of the poses were nice and the composition brought my focus right to their loving faces. But it wasn't professional and in ten years I had definitely learned a lot about photography. I just thought by now I would be doing it more professionally and not just on the side. I'm not sure if I lost focus somewhere, just got busy, or wasn't confident enough in myself to keep going. But it was a reminder that I wasn't where I had wanted to be with my skills by now.

   The second thing I came across was advertisement from a failed business Hero Hottie and I had tried to do a couple of years after we married and we were unsure about college. It was called Low Gravity Designs and we were supposed to design web pages, fix broken photos, and graphic design. Instead, Hero Hottie won a contract with a local professor to animate a science character to teach kids science, which was paid for by a grant from NASA. I love saying that part. It just sounds impressive...a grant by NASA. It took him over a year and we barely made over $5000. Experience was great...the pay didn't even cover expenses. It was a painful learning lesson about making money. Then before we could try to grow any further, I lost my job, we had to sell our house and Hero Hottie had to take the first job available. He did try to find work with animating studios but unfortunately doing the time he could really try to get in with one, none of them were hiring. By the time they were hiring again...we were too busy trying to survive financially with Abu on the way.
   So Low Gravity Designs died a quiet and unassuming death but it was a huge disappointment to us. We closed the bank account, put all the papers and files in a box and it ended up in the garage.

   I sigh. Should I go on? Yes, but only because there's more.
   In the next box was left over craft supplies and decorations from a business I tried to have with my sister in law and my sister. It was called The Party Muse and we had great ideas but not the knowledge or experience to pull it off. It didn't even last that long before we called it quits. We just didn't have a clear and concise plan to make it work. I think we spent more time on figuring out the name than how to make it succeed. The only other great thing about it, besides the name, was the time we got to socialize together, especially since I spent most of my time taking care of two small children.

   The last box contains my vast collection of rejection letters from publishers that weren't interested in my writing. So the dream of being published by one of the Big 6 is dead. It's difficult to receive a glimmer of interest from an agent or a publisher and then have them change their mind.

   So I stand in the garage, surrounded by broken toys and broken dreams. And I decide. I can allow these things...these material items...to bring me down. I can let them make me feel like a failure or I can decide to learn from these boxes.
   It's difficult. It's so easy to say I'm not upset by all these things I tried to do and somehow couldn't succeed at. But I am upset. Because now that I'm older and more experienced, I know what I did wrong.
    And running a business is not something that just comes naturally to me. And I'm easily distracted by children. :) That's one I can't mind so much because I love spending time with my children.

    As far as the writing goes, I still have big dreams and impossible wishes but I also have experience and age and actual, written goals to make them succeed. I will just approach getting my writing out there by a different route. I will use the Internet and Amazon to reach for the stars. I don't owe the Big 6 anymore of my time or tears.

   So I can't say I haven't learned something from my boxes of failed endeavors.

   I found Abu's old Dory toy from Finding Nemo in a box of discarded toys. She used to play with the bright blue stuffed animal in her crib all the time. Dory had a great quote in the movie that just seems to fit,  "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming."

  And never give up.
  

Day Twenty- To Blog or Not to Blog

   I started blogging last year because a literary agent suggested in her newsletter that all good little writer wannabes that wanted to make it in the publishing world should have a blog to build up their readership.
   And not just any sort of blog but one with actual readers. And lots of them.
  I'm sure someone forgot to tell her that if you're spending time on a blog then you're not spending time writing novels. And if you can't get your novel done than what is the point in having a blog to build up readership before you're published?
  I bet she gets confused with time travel stories too.

  When I was first trying to get published, you just needed to make sure your query letter was professional and didn't contain spelling and grammar errors; for some reason agents start to doubt your ability as a writer if you send them a letter that has tons of errors.  :)
  This was on top of a lot of stringent rules that had to be followed or they wouldn't even acknowledge your existence.
   Sort of like don't feed agents after midnight, don't get them wet, and no bright lights. Otherwise, sane and normal agents turn into angry agents that like to say things like, 'What? You actually thought you could write?'
  
   Then they started demanding a list of previously published works. I sigh heavily since my publications had only been published locally. This gave me a slight edge, but no more than say the Postal Carrier that brings them their mail.

   And then they wanted blogs. So I started one. And I called it 'Just the Other Moment; because life is made up of moments interwoven together to form life. My life. 
 Plus, Just the Other Day was already taken which was my first choice.

  Well, this agent didn't sign me on even though at first she was interested in my work. Didn't even tell me why she didn't want to represent me. Just a no thank you after all but keep on following your dream. It would have been nice to know why she decided against it. But sometimes rejection by agents start to sound like bad relationship breakups, 'No, it's not your writing. It's us, we just are looking for something else. But don't worry, it's not you."

   This was a major disappointment that took three different things to get over.

    One: lots of hugs from Abu and a reminder that I'm the best Mom ever and she loves my stories. (I love it when kids are young. They are so unconditional.)

     Two: A reminder from Bean that I can't give up because I never let her give up on anything and it wouldn't be fair if I could and she couldn't. Ah, it's the 'I'm a role model since I'm a parent' thing.

    And Three: A stern warning from Hero Hottie that I wasn't allowed to give up and what could he do to stop my tears because nothing else he was saying was stemming their flow.
    "Just tell me you think I'm good enough to succeed...Someday...At something...Preferably writing." I cried, wondering if there was something wrong with me to pick a path in life that requires you to be constantly rejected just to reach small goals. Yes, I'm crazy because I'm sure there are things easier in life than writing. Like teaching high school math. Or running a restaurant. Or working in customer service.
    He interrupts my moody thoughts with his gruff reassurance. "Yes. You are. A good writer. Now stop crying. We aren't going to worry about silly agents that had dreams of being writers and didn't make it so they're dealing with the pain by shooting down other writers."
     "Are you saying I'm going to end up being an agent?" I cry harder. Oh, I don't want to be an agent.
     "No. But can I get you some chocolate?"  He's sounding quite desperate at this point and ready to call the agent on the phone and yell at her for making me cry.  This makes me feels better, that he's willing to face the mysterious creature they call, an 'literary agent' and tell her off. I turn down his offer of assistance in battle but I willingly take the chocolate.


    But a few days later I decide that since agents wanted to see blogs than I was going to make a blog. What I was going to write about I wasn't sure. Or how often. Or how to obtain readers.
    I dove headfirst into 'writing a blog' thing, almost expecting it to bring agents to my doors. After all, they were the ones who had demanded it.
    The door was sadly silent. But not my email, it continued to fill up with rejections.
    I kept plugging away at my blog, surprisingly building up a readership...from around the globe. I may not be published but I've been read internationally. It's an awesome and weird feeling.
   Now I enjoy having a blog. It's challenging. Especially when I try to write a new blog every day in the month of December. What was I thinking? Grin.
   But I have to thank my readers. For reading my writing. For enjoying it. For encouraging me with their kinds words. I would have quit by now if it haven't been for those kind words. Thanks.

   Now, agents want you to follow them around to every conference they attend and try to get their attention that way. I think I'm going to worry about improving my writing instead.
   And I rather see where this blog takes me than spend endless hours worrying about ways to capture the attention of a literary agent. 
   So perhaps having a blog wasn't my idea but I'm glad started one.