Relaunching. Reinventing. Rebooting. That's a whole lot of RE's. I am REady to REsurrect my blog and course correct my writing journey. You heard it here first people. Decomama has served me well since 2009 but like everything in life, there comes a time when things need a shake up. That time is now. I was going to mess with the format today but it felt like an arduous task when all I really felt like doing was writing. The thing with REbirthing is that it is hard work. I know. I know. As author Glennon Doyle famously hammers home the message of "we can do hard things", I still REsist and procrastinate until I just cannot go one more day without tackling whatever it is that needs tackling. 

 Over the next short while, you will likely be REdirected to a new blogsite, hear some stories you haven't heard before (well, at least not in written form), and my wish is that all my former and current REaders will join me on this new REpaved road. I never know where it is going (do any of us?), but it could be REcharging for me and REvealing to you. 

  As just about any writer will tell you, the process of writing begins long before the first keystroke. It's much like how great sex doesn't start in the bedroom. Great long lead in time to the story in my mind or the days of flirtation that lead to that memorable romp are an important part of the journey. I will admit I need way more time with a story idea than I do for the foreplay. Weeks and months versus hours and days, however that may be TMI for some of you. I digress. My point is I have had a lot of ideas on simmer the last year or so that finally feel ready to REgurgitate. 

You could expect some tales from what I am dubbing The Kyeema North Chronicles, or, thoughts on what it is like being the mother of a Transgender kid, or Navigating Life with Aging Parents, or being a Plant-Based eater in a world of Carnivores, or reflections on Boomer Women and Aging (who is that staring back at me in the mirror?). Some light reading (gardening, decorating, cooking) interspersed with some more serious subjects and always a bit of humour because if we cannot laugh at ourselves or the folly of life, it sure wouldn't be much fun. In a world where everyone seems so touchy and overly sensitive about just about everything and every pronoun, it is my belief we all need to lighten up a bit and RElax. 

 For a start, I am going to create a new handle. I am no longer working as a decorator and although I am still and always will be a Mom, my kid has been out of the nest for some time now and I no longer feel the same sense of identification with either of those former, full-on roles. Who is Decomama now? What words would I use to describe my 64 year old self? What do I want to convey to my readers? Jump in here folks. I am not settled on a new name yet. Please send me your suggestions. Should I choose your idea for my new Blog Title, I will award you with the garden ornament you see in the photo above. I make these as a hobby now (always the decorator). If you don't like the prize, I will give it to someone you know who does. 

 REady, set, go!

Back in the Saddle Again

"Debra, you're a storyteller." That was what an astrologer told me years ago after reviewing my unique birth chart. Of all the things she told me, that was the one tidbit that stuck with me. Afterall, when you're trying to figure out what your purpose in life is and someone tells you exactly what you are, well, it's a bloody miracle when you've been on a mission to figure out who you are your entire life. 

So, I started writing a blog in 2009. The first year I wrote several times each week. I gathered a few followers and I told my stories and some people enjoyed them and I felt like I was accomplishing something each day when I hit the 'publish" button. It was fun and novel and it became an addiction almost. I loved thinking up things to write about and then finding the photos to go with each blog post and coming up with clever titles. It was creative and therapeutic. The constant grind of blog writing became more difficult when I stopped working for myself (Debramac Interiors) and started working for an employer and the demands on my time became such that I only wrote on my days off. It wasn't long before other life changes took priority and before you knew it, my writing started to take a back seat to work, various moves, home renovations, a new relationship, life on a new continent and a second house to care for and then the ultimate game changer - Covid Chaos. 

Throughout all of these years and upheavals, I still wanted to write, but my apparent "life purpose" as a storyteller slowly got lost in my over-shuffled deck of cards. The story teller in me became dormant...aka, almost dead. Had I become just another "blogger" statistic destined to fizzle out like a Canada Day sparkler? Burnt out, tossed in the rubbish bin, forgotten. 

 I was recently inspired by my good friend Cindy (aka...Halifax Broad), over at the newly launched www.THEBROAD.ca  (her new handle) who was resurrecting her once award winning writing (Marketing Magazine's most creative Canadian of the Year in 2010). She had mentioned in her opening piece that I had been the one to inspire her to start writing all those years ago and, humbled as I was that she credited me for that, I felt undeserving considering I was no longer telling my stories. How could I have ever been anyone's inspiration? It was enough to make me take notice and do something about it. 

So here I am folks, in my comfy chair on a too hot July day, with my well used MacBook Air with the faded e,t,a,n and o keys on my lap telling a story. Considering the "i" key is not faded, must mean that my stories have not all been about me (way too boring), but more about how we all stumble along in this life, dealing with the cards we are dealt in the best ways we know how. If my stories can be inspiring or relatable or even mildly entertaining, then maybe that astrologer was right (thanks Robin), maybe I am but a simple storyteller and that should not only be a priority, but in regard to purpose...enough. 

So, here were go.. Published Blog number 487. Back in the Saddle Again.

Ending and Beginning

The view from my future house

Today was an ending and a beginning for me. As I mentioned earlier this month,  I had signed up for a 30 day writing marathon. It was called Writing Yourself Alive (WYA). Initially I wasn't sure what to expect. Was it going to help me get unblocked? Would it be a quality program or was it just an Internet money grab? Would I stick with it? Would I get any credible feedback on my submissions? Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. The timing was right as we are in the midst of one of the hottest summers on record here in Queensland and who wants to go outside anyway? May as well hole up inside and write. 

So that is what I have been doing. Writing. Writing, and more writing. I wrote in the morning. I wrote in the afternoon. I wrote at night. I wrote at the kitchen table, on the sofa or at my desk. I thought about my neglected blog but did not think all that much about my neglected chores. I "dug deeper" and responded to "prompts" and shared my work with other writers in the "writer's lounge".  I made new cyber-friends. I read their work. They read mine. I laughed and cried and spilled my guts and deepest darkest secrets and fears on our "members only" Facebook page and the course website sharing space. It was easy. It was hard. It was therapeutic. It was magical. It was nourishing. It was more than I hoped it would be. It was a joy.

So, now what? Well, that's where the beginning part comes in. Apparently it takes 28 days to cement a new habit. It worked. With 30 consecutive days of daily devotion to my writing under my belt, I feel ready to tackle the big job. The job I have been procrastinating, putting off, half-assed attempting, three steps forwarding and two steps backwarding for so long. I am dedicating the next year to my book. I am giving myself a deadline. By March 1, 2017, I will have a completed manuscript. Sooner if I can. Call me crazy, call me a wishful thinker, call me whatever you like, just don't call me when I am in process!

I have set my intention. Our final prompt for the program was to write a letter to ourselves from the future, five years from now. A written image board of sorts. I will share my letter here with you all, with the universe, and for the record. 

Cue...2021.

Hey Deb!

Yo! Over here! It’s me – 2021! You made it kiddo! Look here! Yeah, that’s you sitting at that table. That’s you at a book signing. I just went outside the shop and there is a line-up half way down the block. Not bad for a first effort, I must say. I told you all along, you just needed to believe it yourself. You had a story to share and all these women here Deb, they relate. They saw something of themselves in your story and it gives them hope. That WYA group was a genuine catalyst. I knew you would figure out a way to do this. To tell your story without hurting anyone. I always said, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Didn’t I? Didn’t I?

Okay, okay, I will lay off the I told you so’s. But seriously Deb, it was you who did it. Sure, I nudged you along a little. I hovered out here, five years down the road and you started to image me. The picture became clearer and clearer with each chapter you completed. You started to see the finish line, your photo on the dust jacket, the book signings, the interviews. And how about those residuals? Ya gotta love those deposits from your publisher every month. Oh, and check this out Deb. This morning’s New York Times. You made it! Number 3 and climbing. Why, I bet you will hit number one by the end of the month.

And look here. Your book club gals are reading your book this month. They are so proud of you Deb. They knew you could do it. Let me tell you something on the down low Deb. Shhhh! Lean in. I am not supposed to go beyond today, but between you and me, next month you are going to surprise them all with tickets to come to Australia for an all- expense paid trip to help celebrate your success. They are never going to forget this Deb. You are going to have such an awesome time hosting them at your new house – that waterfront home you have always dreamed of is finally a reality. I see at least two more books emerging from that place Deb. I love the way you positioned your desk to take in that panoramic ocean view and the way you can hear the waves crashing on the boulders down below the cliffside when you throw open the floor to ceiling sliders. I love how stoked you get when you write during the full moon. You are so inspired by the moonlight reflecting on the waves.

Oh, and get this – you and Emma are working on a screenplay of the book. Her film studies have really paid off. While you two are busy doing that, Steve is creating the most awesome one of a kind tables in the studio behind the house. He is in his element creating “furniture as art” and you are at the top of your creative game. It’s just how you always imagined it Deb. You are doing what you love with the people you love around you. Does it get any freaking better? I don’t think so darlin…I don’t think so.

Cheers and see you in 5,

2021 xoxo

This just happened this morning, two days after writing this blog entry. I just had to share it, since it will be a part of the book. I don't want to give too much away at this point as a book sometimes has a mind of it's own, but I will address the magic and importance of "intuition" and "subliminal messaging" that we all have access to but often ignore. I set out on my walk this morning as usual and I normally take one of two routes, but felt powerfully drawn to take a street I rarely walk down. I just listened to my gut and went with it. I always reckon these things happen for a reason. I got about 20 metres down the road and happened to glance down at my feet and there was a small pale blue sticker - the number 5, laying on the pavement. There was nothing else around it. Just this lone number sticker. I walked by it initially, before realizing it was a message meant for me. I spun around and walked back and took this photo. See you in 5. Indeed.

Today's Assignment - Create New Words

I had some fun with this one. It was a light-hearted break from some of the more serious subjects we have been writing about in my 30 Day Writing Marathon.  Feel free to add some other  "gasms" in the Comments.

Designgasm – the overwhelming excitement you experience when you see a perfect room, or house or shoe

Foodgasm – the moment your tastebuds cry out “more, more, Oh my GOD, MORE!” (often involves chocolate)

Scalegasm – the fist-pumping joy you feel when you step on the scale and are down 5 lbs without even trying

Bookgasm – when you close an incredible book you just read, pause, and let it melt into your memory and sigh

Eargasm – when you hear a song or piece of music that moves you to tears (because it is good)

Composigasm – when a writer strings together what he/she considers a perfect sentence, analogy or metaphor and reads it over and over and over again basking in their own brilliance. (sometimes followed by a cigarette)

I Want....

I also want to read this book again.

Today's Writing Marathon prompt was to write a poem where each stanza started with the words, "I want".

I wrote this pretty quickly and the truth is, I could add many more "I wants", but these were the wants that sprang to mind right away.

I Want

I want to move forward
and stop looking back
quit changing direction
focus my track

I want people to see 

beyond acquiring things 

know happiness is not 

owning fat diamond rings 

I want deeper connection 

more face to face talk 

less cell phone obsession 

more time for a walk 

I want meaningful sharing 

my soul being fed 

not dead boring small talk 

that leaves things unsaid 

I want to live in a world 

where the spiritually depleted 

wake up one fine morning 

feeling joy, not defeated 

I want to see my girl’s life 

flourish and grow 

watch her follow her dreams 

don’t let them go 

I want just one more thing 

to hear people say, 

Have you read her book yet? 

Go read it today! 

(Had to throw in that last verse to lighten this wish list up a bit!) :-) 

A Letter to my Muse

I had fun with this assignment today. It was a writing prompt on Day 17 of my 30 Day Writing Marathon. We were to write a letter to our Muse, AKA, our inspiration. This was mine.

Dearest M,

Please forgive me for ignoring you. I want to drop everything when you come around, but sometimes it is just not possible. It does not mean that you are not precious to me. Please don’t for a minute think that I don’t appreciate you. I do. I truly do. You are my moment of brilliance, my shining star, my guiding light. You make everything flow and flower and flourish. You shower me with metaphors and analogies and illiterations. I owe you so much.

It’s just that I am annoyed when you show up at inopportune times. We really have to talk about the 3 am. visits. Give me a break. I need my sleep. You know I am a morning person. Are you mad at me for giving up our wine? I know you used to enjoy that. We did seem to come up with some great material after a couple of glasses of Shiraz. I did mention that I was having some digestive issues, right? The wine is off the menu for awhile M. You’re not alone, I miss it too. We had some really crazy ideas some nights, didn’t we? Funny though, looking back at what we wrote, it wasn’t as stellar as we thought it was at the time, was it? It was pretty good, but nothing earth shattering.

Also, I know you have asked me in the past to write down the ideas you feed me. I realize I have become a little forgetful over the years. But seriously, it’s not always convenient. Could you do me a favour and stop showing up while I am driving? It’s very distracting. Sometimes I get home and can hardly remember how I got there. Your’re like a rambunctious puppy when it comes to car rides. You just love nothing more than sitting shotgun with your head out the window, tongue hanging out, wind whistling in your ears. I get it. It is one of your favourite times to appear. Just remember, I need to be concentrating on driving, not on you and another one of your crazy notions.

Did I just hurt your feelings? Please don’t take it that way. I love you M. You just need to consider me a little more. Can we schedule you in perhaps? Make a date? Could you do that? Could you adhere to a schedule? Is that asking too much? Does that spoil the spontaneity for you? Does that seem too robotic for you? I know the answers already. Yes, no, no, no, no. yes and yes. Okay, so it looks like I am the one who will need to adapt to your schedule. I try you know. I really do try. You are everything to me. You do know that, don’t you? Without you I would be empty. My life would be meaningless. Shit, I just heard Sam Smith singing and the radio is off. “Oh, won’t you stay with me?, ‘Cause you’re all I need.”

But wait, isn’t that a song about one night stands? That’s not about us. Although, I must tell you that when you disappear for days at a time, I wonder if you really do care about me. Please stop doing that. We’ve been together for long enough now, that I do trust you will always come back, but even I can get insecure when you are gone for too long.

I do have one rather large favour to ask of you M. Could you send me a sign? You know I am struggling with which direction to take with this novel. Should I focus on the actual story verbatim or should I turn it into more of a spiriitual, self/help guide? I’m a bit lost and confused. Step in would you? Yank my reins a bit. Push me one way or the other. I will be waiting for your guidance.

Yours,
Forever and ever,

Deb xoxo 

Writing Myself Alive

Where I wish I could be writing. The Red Cottage on Mabel Lake

Figured I might hop on my blog here today and let my loyal readers know why they are not seeing much from me these days. I have joined a 30 day Writing Marathon to kick start my creative juices and get over some writer's block that has taken hold lately.

The good news is, I am really enjoying the process and the program is really getting me deeper into my passion which you all know is the written word. The program requires accountability and writing exercises that are stretching me in different directions and just generally making me commit more time to my novel.  Today, one of the prompts was to summarize your creative path and growth to date.  I will share what I wrote with you and perhaps a few other snippets  as I move through the marathon. Most of you are aware of most of this already, but others may not know me as intimately. I give you Day 11.

Dig Deeper…Day 10…recall your artistic growth/path 

Colouring. It all started with colouring. Brightly coloured construction paper and fat Crayolas in Kindergarten. These brought me joy. This was followed by the primitive musical instruments that we would clang together like an untrained chaotic orchestra. But the teacher would really up the creative ante when she would say, OK, today boys and girls, I would like you to write a poem." That was the real music to my ears. Rhyming words. Roses are red, violets are blue, pass me a pencil, I’ll parlez-vous. For a shy, dreamy little girl, poetry was my Nirvana. There was something about the focused searching for the right words, the rhyming words that would still convey the context of the story being told in the poem that truly could engage me for hours. 

Later on it was word puzzles. I couldn’t wait for the Saturday paper to land on the front porch so I could grab the giant Word Find and then when I got a little older, it was the weekend Crossword. It was a great brain workout that didn’t seem like work to me. It also helped earn me A’s in spelling. In seventh grade, I summoned up the courage to submit one of my poems to the annual school yearbook for publication, not knowing if it would actually end up making it into the Poetry Section. I wasn’t even sure if I really wanted it to appear, as it was an angst filled sonnet of pre-teen heartbreak. When it did get printed for the whole school to see, I realized the incredible light it shone on my already shaky vulnerability and I was embarrassed and regretted sharing something so personal. It was the end of my poetry career, publicly anyway. 

I continued to write poems and love letters and journals for years. Years later when I was not accepted into one of Canada’s top Journalism schools, it was my skill as a letter writer and journal writer that helped me turn that “decline” letter to an “accepted” letter after refusing to accept their decline decision. I called the chairman of the department and begged for a face to face interview. An appointment was made and I pleaded my case and convinced them that I would show them what a great reporter I could be even though I had never worked on my high school paper. (that was pretty much a prerequisite for entry at the time) What I had done, was set off to see the world after high school and I had what could only be defined as “street smarts” and had recorded my adventures in journals. I was accepted as a “mature student” at 24. 

It was there, in my years at Ryerson’s Journalism school that I developed another love. Photography. It was part of the curriculum to be able to wield a camera. so I turned my focus to photojournalism. I could already write. This was exciting and new. I wanted to turn it into a career, but as fate would have it, I ended up taking a job in PR after graduation and I wrote advertising copy and public relations materials and put the silly notion of becoming a photojournalist or reporter behind me. There were few jobs in my field at the time and they went to the superstars of the program, not me. 

Over the next decade I made the mistake of working for money versus doing what I loved. I got married, had a child, stayed at home and went back to colouring with my toddler.  And decorating my house. I was bored. I went back to school to get some accreditation for my decorating and studied at night for 3 years. I started my own interior decorating business and it worked for me for another decade until I got fed up with the design world. I still enjoyed the field, but didn’t want to work for other people any longer. I missed writing. I knew I had to return to my passions. I read a quote – I forget who said it, but it was simply…“If you want to be a writer, start writing.” 

I launched my blog shortly after I read that. I had no idea what I wanted to write about, but I stopped worrying about all that and just started writing again. Since 2009 I have kept my blog going. It is not a money earner and I don’t care about that. It is simply a place for me to write. A place that I go to hone my skills, pour my heart out, rant, rave and ponder. Sometimes I even write poetry. I do whatever the hell I feel like doing there and it has been a wonderful tool for examining my life, commenting on the world, expressing my creativity and simply stringing words together to form some meaning to myself and others. It is something I do for the sheer love of doing it. And that has been enough until now. Joining this 30 day marathon is my next step. Not sure where it is leading, but I am enjoying the ride.