Betsy Horvath

Category: Deep Thoughts

  • Ruminations and Reflections

    It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…

    Charles Dickens
    A Tale of Two Cities

    2017 was one heck of a year.  One heck of a freaking year. For me, it was a year of loss and a year of joy. As Mr. Dickens says above, it was a year of wisdom and a year of foolishness.

    Most of all, 2017 was a year of uncertainty.

    That’s okay. Some uncertainty can be good. It can even be healthy. We live our lives as if everything is secure and settled, and then a year like 2017 comes along and reminds us that is not true. It wakes us up and shows us that we have to live our lives–we can’t merely slide through them.   We can’t stand on a foundation that doesn’t really exist.

    It’s been a little difficult to deal with some of the situations 2017 brought me, but some difficulty can be good too. It can help you see what’s important. Difficulty is not pleasant.  Neither is uncertainty.  But they can be good teachers.

    The gift I received in 2017 was the experience of seeing that, even in the midst of difficult times, I was able to keep writing.  I got derailed for several months, and I didn’t get nearly as much done as I’d hoped or planned that I would, but I was able to get back on the horse and move forward. I didn’t respond as well as I would have liked, but I did keep going.

    2018 will have its own challenges and its own difficulties.  It will teach its own lessons.  In fact, I can see the shadow of some potential lessons lurking out on the horizon like sharks. I have to admit the thought of some of the obstacles terrifies me.  But the other thing I learned from 2017 was that if you keep your head down and put one foot in front of the other, you can push your way through a gale-force wind.

    I also know that as I move forward I have to be honest about the reality of my situation, both financially and professionally.  I can’t get so caught up in the story I’m telling myself about who I am that I forget all common sense. I can’t get so caught up in the shiny possibilities that I’m not grounded in reality. And, conversely, I can’t let myself get so beaten down by reality that I can’t see the potential yet to be, grasp it, and create it in my life.

    I wish I had a list of specific goals and a detailed schedule for 2018 that I could share with you.  I do have some overarching objectives, but the fact is that right now there are aspects of my life that are still uncertain.  I’ll have to wait to do detailed scheduling until I see how they resolve themselves.  I’ll share more here once I see how the wind will blow.  But writing will happen, no matter what. I might fall down on my bum repeatedly, but I do get back up again.

    For now, I’ll say that my goal in 2018 is to keep on keeping on.  And to keep sailing through the choppy waters of uncertainty.

    I hope you all have a wonderful and fruitful New Year.  Thanks for being with me.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Head Above Water

    When last we left Betsy, she had just sent her most recent book off to the editor and first readers for editing and first reading, respectively.  For those of you who care, this means Betsy’s scheduling and timing are for crap, since those tasks really should be done in order, as opposed to simultaneously.  Which means Betsy will have a heck of a mess on her hands when she tries to sort it all out later.

    But is that not the story of Betsy’s life?

    Yes. Yes, it is.

    In addition to the whole writing thing, and the delays, and the way Betsy is now rushing, rushing, rushing to finish things she should have finished months ago, other stressful incidents occur and keep occurring.

    This, too, is part of life, although in that case it is not unique to Betsy’s.

    It still can be a little overwhelming, though.

    As we open this post, we see the Muse, strolling gracefully through a sunlit meadow towards a deep lake in the center of Betsy’s mind.  Sometimes the waters of the lake are placid, but today they are choppy, and we can soon see why.  Betsy is out in the lake, her arms and legs churning wildly in the water as she struggles to stay afloat.

    What in the world is going on now?  Let’s see…

     

    *Muse walks up the edge of the lake* *Considers Betsy from the shore*  *Ducks to avoid wildly splashing water*  Why are you flailing?

    *Betsy churns arms and legs*  *Struggles to stay afloat*  I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

    Why?

    Why?  Why?  *Betsy flails* Because so much is going on!

    *Muse settles on the shore a safe distance away* Like what?

    You know.  Other people are reading my book.  And then I’ll have to do all of the work to clean it up.  And then I’ll have to publish it.  And then more people will read it!  There’s so much work to do, so much time to spend, and who knows whether it will all work out?  Who knows if I’ll be able to meet my deadline this time when I’ve missed so many of them before?  Who knows what other people are going to think?  Who knows what they’re going to say? *Betsy splashes*

    *Muse draws up her legs under her long, flowing skirt and rests her chin on her knees*   Then why publish?  You certainly don’t have to.

    Because if I don’t publish, the book won’t be completely done.  What’s the point of telling a story if you don’t share it with anyone else?

    Then why splash?

    Because it’s not perfect!  It will never be perfect!  I can’t make it perfect!  I’m screwing it all up!  *Betsy flails and churns*

    *Muse considers her*  I’m pretty sure these sorts of things aren’t supposed to be perfect.

    What if I’m a failure?  What if I’ve wasted my time?  What if I’m wasting my life? *splash, splash, splash*

    Do you really feel that way?

    Yes!  *Betsy splashes*  *Flailing slows*  No.  I guess I don’t really feel that way.

    Well, that’s something anyway.

    Maybe I’m afraid.

    Maybe you are.  *Muse nods agreeably*

    But that makes me flail even more because I don’t want the fear to win because the fear is stupid.  So I’m trying to push myself through.

    *Muse tilts her head*  I can’t help but notice that at the moment you’re flailing, not pushing.  And the stress isn’t doing your blood sugar numbers any favors.

    I know, I know.  But there have been a lot of reasons for stress lately.

    *a floofy orange cat comes to sit next to the Muse on the shore* *watches Betsy with big green eyes*

    And I  know if I can just push through this, push through the fear, push through the doubt, push through everything and keep on going, I’ll have another book done and it will be its own thing and I’ll be working on the next and I won’t be as stressed.  So I keep pushing.

    True.  *Muse pets the cat*  On the other hand, is there any point to flailing around now?  If you already know it will be all right later, if you know you’re going to push through the publication process and the book will be out and some people will like it and some people will not like it and most people won’t give a damn about it one way or the other, is there any reason why you should get yourself all worked up splashing around in the lake and churning up the water?

    No.  But the water is so deep right now that I feel like I have to.

    Or you could, you know, just stop and see what happens.

    I can’t stop!  I’ll drown!  You have to rescue me! *Betsy flails some more*

    I’m kind of thinking this one’s on you.

    I’m feeling overwhelmed.

    *Muse shrugs*  How about you just try stopping and see what happens.

    Just like that?

    At least try standing up.

    My feet can’t touch the bottom!  They can’t touch the bottom!  I’m going under!

    Sure about that?

    Why, yes, of course I’m—  *Betsy’s eyes widen*  Wait, what?  *She stands*  *The water in the lake laps back and forth for a moment, then settles around her ankles*  Huh.

    Just remember—sometimes the lake seems a little deeper than it actually is.  Now, how about we go back to work on the new novella?  And Harry’s waiting to talk to you about some publishing things.

    Oh.  Okay.  *Betsy walks to shore* *pets the cat*  *follows Muse back across the meadow*

     

    To be continued…

     

     

     

  • Like Pulling Teeth

    Like Pulling Teeth

    I love writing.  If I didn’t love it, I wouldn’t keep doing it.  But as you know in your own lives, sometimes love isn’t all fairy sparkles and pixie dust—sometimes it’s something a lot more jagged.

    It’s the same way with writing.  People often expect that writing is easy.  Most of us know how to write somewhat competently, we all tell stories, so writing a novel has to be like sunshine and moonbeams.  Especially something as “simple” as a romance novel. You think of a story, and you write it down.  Boom!

    Sometimes it is that easy.  There are times when the words flow like water in a stream, chuckling and bubbling until you have to race to keep up with them.  In the editing process, you kneel gracefully to uncover a golden nugget and polish it until it shines, or clip out the excess with silver scissors to let a perfect flower bloom.  You are Snow White singing as you dust the house and tidy it up.

    But sometimes writing is like pulling freaking teeth.  Sometimes you have to physically force yourself to continue, you have to compel yourself to pull up the document and work on it, only to get just a few paragraphs or even a few sentences finished.  You have to force yourself to keep going, one yard at a time.  One footstep at a time.  One inch at a time.  Against a gale-force wind.  Up hill.  Through the snow.

    The last draft of my latest book was like that.  Every step was almost painful, every decision doubted.  Every section completed was a minor miracle, one more tooth pulled—a painful relief.

    Although this book was worse than some, the last drafts are always like this for me, and the resistance against progress is intense.

    Those are the times when I doubt my sanity. I’m not writing any great thing here—heck, I’m writing romance, not Shakespeare. It’s not like it matters whether or not I finish.  Why do I keep putting myself through this?

    Still, I keep doing it.

    What’s even more insane is that at this point in the process, the tooth pulling has become almost a compulsion for me. It must be done. The manuscript must be completed, for good or bad.  I push myself and am pushed to the finish line.

    And then, one day, I cross, and the book is done.

    Not fully formed yet, but ready to go into other people’s hands for judging and commenting and grooming and copyediting.  Then it will come back to me to be finalized before heading out on its own little voyage.

    This thing that did not exist before, does.  This story that was not told before in exactly this way, now is.

    It’s nothing special by any means, just a romance novel.  I hope it will be a good romance novel when it’s completely finished, but it’s nothing that will bring about world peace or anything.  I hope people will enjoy it, I hope it will bring them some escape and entertainment and maybe even a thought or two, but it’s not going to change lives.  I really hope it doesn’t suck, although it definitely might.  I’m sure some people will think that it’s trash regardless.  Some days I’m one of those people.

    But what matters is, it wasn’t there before, and now it is.

    Which is basically, I guess, why I pull those teeth and push myself even when the actual writing part isn’t very much fun.  That’s why I do it when, like now, I’m totally stressed out waiting for feedback.  That’s why I do it when my life is going through some sad times or dark places.

    Maybe that’s why we all create things, be they cakes or afghans or gardens or paintings or books.  Something was not there, and now it is.  Something is new.  Who cares about a few teeth?

    Beginning It is book 2 in the Welcome to Hardy Falls series.  It follows Believing It (book 0.5) and Handling It (book 1).  If all goes somewhat well (and now I’ve jinxed myself), I’m expecting it to be out sometime in December (that’s 2017, you smart aleck), along with a novella (Hardy Falls book 2.5) I’m working on now.  More info to follow soon!

    And I sure hope the tooth pulling gets a little easier the more I do this writing thing.

    But it probably won’t.

     

     

     

  • I Get Knocked Down, I Get Up Again

    When last we heard from Betsy, she was sounding very determined.  And then she vanished from the face of the earth for several weeks.  If you know anything about Betsy, you know that this is definitely not a good sign.  Why it’s almost as if she was trying to ignore flaws and cracks and crevices that were widening and becoming catastrophic and then it all exploded in her face!

    Uh oh.  We’d better see what’s going on….

     

    Betsy is sitting in the soft grass beside the lake in her mind. The wind is blowing gently. Everything is saturated with color and seems to be more in focus than it has been as of late.

    She leans back on her hands, looking at the range of mountains in the distance, the field of grass, the leaves on the trees rustling gently in the warm breeze. The sun is full and bright, the grass and leaves dark green with life, the lake deep blue and peaceful. Even a week ago, the landscape was gray and intangible. Even a week ago, everything was transparent, like the thinnest of papers.  Like a ghost.

    Like Betsy.

    She feels the softness of the ground beneath her palms, feels the weight of her spirit and her body. Even a week ago, everything was insubstantial.

    She looks at the lake, sees the depths of the blue water, the way it laps the shore. The surface is calm, with just a few ripples. Even a week ago, the lake was almost empty, and what water remained was muddy and agitated.

    “You’re back.”

    Betsy looks up to see the Muse standing beside her. The Muse looks out at the grass, the trees, the lake, and then turns to Betsy and considers her.

    “I feel better,” Betsy tells her.

    “Good.” The Muse sits next to her, gracefully tucks her legs up under the folds of her gown. “Do you understand what happened?”

    “I became disheartened.” Betsy straightens. “I did my taxes and saw the expenses and the income. I thought about how little I had accomplished and was accomplishing. I started second-guessing myself and my decisions. And I became disheartened.”

    “Sometimes you have to keep moving even when you are not seeing the results.”

    Betsy looks down. “It’s hard.”

    The Muse shrugs. “Of course. Who said it wouldn’t be? Who said that something worthwhile wouldn’t be a struggle?”

    “I know.” Betsy sighs and pulls out a blade of grass, twirling it in her fingers. “But it’s hard sometimes and I was disheartened.”

    “You almost quit. You were right on the verge of changing everything.”

    “I wasn’t writing. I said that I was dedicated to it, but I didn’t feel like I had any creativity inside me. There was nothing inside me. So why not quit? Why keep struggling? Why keep giving it lip service? Why not get a regular second job to pay off debt, save for the future, do the things we’re all supposed to do? That would have been smarter, definitely more logical. Why keep wasting my time?”

    The Muse nods. “And then…”

    Betsy gestures around her. “Everything went gray and lifeless. I felt like I was transparent, just a dead leaf tumbling in the wind. And I thought that I shouldn’t quit if this was the way I was going to feel because it was horrible.”

    The Muse settles back. “But you’re writing now. You’re making headway now. Did the creativity come back when you made the decision to keep going?”

    “It wasn’t that easy. At first, I had decided not to quit, but I couldn’t actually write either.  There still wasn’t any creativity inside me. So I looked at some other things I could do first. I started changing the way I’ve been eating so it would be better for my diabetes. Then I tried to go to bed earlier to get more sleep, and to get up with the alarm so I could take control of my mornings. All of that gave me the groundwork I needed to be able to write again. Once I started writing, I finally felt like myself.”

    “And what have you learned?”

    Betsy thinks for a moment. “That the right food and the right sleep and the right motivation are just as important as sitting at the computer because that’s what the creativity is built on.”

    “Go on.”

    “And that you have to have faith. Faith that it will work out. Faith that it’s worth it. Faith that you’re doing the right thing. Faith even when you are being given an opportunity to doubt yourself. Because if you lose faith in what you’re doing, you lose everything. I had been losing it for a while, and the last couple of weeks were just the result.”

    The Muse leans forward and takes Betsy’s hand. “And I will tell you something else. You have to throw away your timelines. There are no expiration dates on your dreams as long as you are alive and willing to fight for them. But you do have to fight sometimes.”

    Betsy looks at the Muse and grips her hand. “And sometimes it’s hard.”

    The Muse nods. “Sometimes it is. But no one ever said it wouldn’t be.”

     

    To be continued…

    Author’s note – the song in the youtube clip below probably doesn’t have the slightest thing to do with this blog post, but it kept running around in my head as I wrote this, so I thought I’d share the earworm.  You’re welcome.  😀

    [tube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2H5uWRjFsGc[/tube]

  • What Are You Aiming At?

    Come here, my friends. Have a seat on this comfy sofa. Turn off the news. Disconnect from social media (well, after you read this blog post). Stop streaming Netflix. Just sit. Take a deep breath. In…Out…

    Good.

    Now, I have a question for you to think about. What are you aiming at?

    We are all archers in this life. We all have a bow and a quiver of arrows. We all have a selection of targets. Which one (or more) are you aiming at?

    Some of you will say “I’m aiming at nothing”. If you aim at nothing, you’ll hit it. Trust me – that’s how I’ve spent most of my life. We still draw our bows. We still shoot our arrows. But if we aim at nothing the arrows go all over the place because we’re not directing them anywhere.

    You can’t get away from shooting arrows – that’s just the nature of life. But you can aim them.

    And, just like an archer, we can be looking at a target, but if our aim is just slightly off we might miss it altogether. A slight adjustment when shooting the arrow can be the difference between a bullseye and putting the arrow into a nearby tree.

    My aim has been slightly off lately. It’s so, so easy to do, barely noticeable until you see the arrows aren’t hitting the center of the target you’ve chosen. I get caught up in the step by step process instead of seeing the real objective, or get swept away by the whirlwind of everyday life, or sucked down into a million rabbit holes. My arrows go all over the darned place. If you’ve read my blog before, I’m sure you know that this is something I struggle with constantly. I’m sure it’s a constant struggle for you, too.

    In my case, it occurred to me that although I have identified one of my targets as “to be a successful indie author”, I’ve been pointing the tip of my arrow at the “successful” part instead of the “author” part. And, for me, that’s off.

    Sometimes it’s harder to see that your aim is just slightly off than it is to recognize you aren’t aiming at all. For example, I really do want to be successful. Of course I do. Nobody says “I want to be a failure doing this thing I love.”

    But I can’t force myself to be a success. I can learn the skills I need to master and do what I can to support the likelihood of success, but whether it happens is not really under my control. It can’t be what I aim at. The center of the target actually is the writing. Success is the byproduct, not the bullseye.

    Do you see the difference? I hope for and try to support success. But I must aim at creation. Success will not come without creation, but creation can come without success.

    I have often felt that if you feel like you are a round peg forcing yourself into a square hole, you must step back and evaluate what’s going on. That feeling was my first indication that I was just slightly off target – the feeling of needing to use force to get into the groove.

    Again, I’m going to do my darnedest to try to be a success. I’m going to sit at the feet of people who are further along the path than I am and listen to them and learn everything they’re willing to teach me.

    But I’m not them and the way I ultimately try to make this work will be my own. I have to aim at the center of my own target, not theirs.

    Which brings me back to my question. What are you aiming at? Is it a career? A money goal? A relationship? Do you want to be like a particular celebrity? Or are you aiming at escaping real life altogether?

    Then I have to ask, do you want to hit what you’re aiming at? Is your target worthwhile? Is your aim true, or slightly off? Or are you forcing yourself to aim at a particular target when really you want to turn around and shoot your arrow in the opposite direction?

    We are all archers shooting arrows. Where do you want yours to hit?

     

     

  • We Never Know (some thoughts about 2016)

    2016 has gone now, and it took a lot of famous people along with it. David Bowie. Alan Rickman.  Gene Wilder.  Prince.  Garry Shandling.  Florence Henderson.  Doris Roberts.  Glenn Frey.  Muhammad Ali. George Michael. Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds only one day apart. And those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

    Of course, I didn’t know these people personally, but many of those who passed this year were integral parts of my life in a lot of different ways, so it hit me harder than other years.

    Then there were the wonderful people I DID know personally who lost battles they’d been fighting for years. And animals I loved who unexpectedly crossed the rainbow bridge. And friends who experienced major life changes and difficulties. And my own struggles and failures and fears.

    Loss. So many events that are worthy of mourning.

    Yet, I think that in these losses 2016 was showing us a great truth.

    We never really know what’s going to happen.

    Never.

    Sometimes life just rears up and smacks us in the face and we’re not prepared for it.

    Sometimes a wave washes over us and we get swept away.

    Sometimes we take a turn, step a step, and it changes our lives forever.

    We’re going down a path, we take one fork instead of another. We leave the house five minutes early, or five minutes late. We stop for coffee instead of going directly to work. We go to a friend’s house instead of heading home. Every one of those little decisions can impact the course of our lives.

    We never really know what’s going to happen. We just fool ourselves into thinking that we do. That’s when a day or a month or a year like 2016 comes around and reminds us that we don’t have a clue.

    Did Carrie Fisher know when she got on the plane in England that it was going to be her last flight? Of course not.

    Did George Michael know he was going to bed for the last time? No.

    Life is uncertainty.

    But isn’t that also its beauty? Isn’t that what makes life so precious? Because we never know when everything is going to change, we should embrace every day, every hour, every second that we’re given. Nothing is certain, so nothing is static, and nothing should be taken for granted.

    After all, even if we cower in our homes because we’re afraid of the possible changes, our lives will still come and go. Only then when they go, we’ll realize we haven’t lived at all.

    Then there’s the fact that, although everything can change in an instant, it doesn’t always change for the worse. Everything can change for the better, too. Sometimes we face loss unexpectedly, but sometimes the little decisions we’ve made save us in a lot of different ways. This year I witnessed and experienced loss, but I also witnessed and experienced a miracle or two.

    We’re not locked in. LIFE is not locked in. And that means we have opportunity. This second we can change who we are and what we’re doing.  We can still be the people we were meant to be.

    Honestly, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do anyway? We’re not supposed to waste life. We’re not supposed to throw it away or let it drip through our fingers because we’re not paying attention to it.

    I think that was the lesson 2016 was teaching us. Pay attention, because everything changes and we never know exactly when it will. There may be ending or loss, but there will also be joy. There always is, no matter the year. There will be loss in 2017, but there will be joy as well.  Mourn the losses, but embrace the joy.

    Life is precious and life is precarious. Don’t waste it. Take the blessing of however much time you’re given and make it your own.

    That’s what I’m going to try to do.

    With varying degrees of success.