Adapting a Lifelong Dream

This is one of my longest breaks between blog posts during my nine years of blogging. For some weeks now I've been feeling reluctant to dish out another opinion when the online world seems so saturated with them. Even Twitter, which forced people to be concise, has upped its word count from 140 to 280.

Not wanting to bore you with unenlightened views about things I'm no expert in, I took to doodling with sharpie pens instead. My new hobby explains my latest blog header which I fear makes me look like a kids' author! (I'll bash out another one more in keeping with my novels at some point.)

Although I haven't been blogging, I do write every day. The dream of making a living from writing did quietly come true thanks in part to being a big fish (published, bilingual author) in a small pond (Mallorca). I'm currently working on a What's On guide for abcMallorca, which hopefully means I'll stop staring blankly at people when they ask me for recommendations on what to do on the island! 

The title of the blog refers to my childhood dream of becoming a published author with an agent and a traditional publisher. To cut a long story short, I did get all that and at the time it was so thrilling. Yet, as I explained in my interview with Paul Teague of Self-Publishing Journeys podcast, in the end this dream really was a huge disappointment that has taken me a while to come to terms with.  

I was so eager to be published that I accepted not being paid any money for the books upfront. I assumed I'd make money because such a big company was bound to sell thousands. But the big publisher did minimal marketing and low royalties meant that two years of work for two books barely earned me enough to pay a month's rent.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results... So this summer I published The Hen Party under my own brand Little Cactus. To date the book has sold more in three months than my traditionally published books did in a year. 

The experience proved to me what I could achieve if I invested time and money into not only creating a good book, but into advertising and promotion. A number of local publications featured the The Hen Party and although it's difficult to get reviews, the ones so far have been very positive. I have to thank all my readers who trust I can write and couldn't care less who publishes my books!

Knowing I could succeed independently made me desperate to recuperate my rights for my other novels, The Temp and #PleaseRetweet, and relaunch them with better covers, and in the case of The Temp, with the original title Spray Painted Bananas, which was so successful on Wattpad.  

For a time it looked like the publisher weren't going to give me my rights back. As long as the books made 100 pounds a year they could keep them. Rarely have I felt so furious. I would find myself awake in the early hours composing angry emails. How dare they prevent me from earning a living from books that I had worked so hard on?

That rage has since passed. I said what needed to be said. Next April, I'll get my rights back for both novels and I will release them with new branding and covers that more faithfully reflect my style of writing and myself as an author.

It has been a period of limbo... but I'm finally coming out the other side. I could write a letter to my younger self advising her not to be blinded by the traditional dream, but in the end I know I would do it all again, because my dream was so strong.  

If I don't make The Sunday Times Bestseller list, win a literary award, or have my books in Waterstones, then so be it. What matters to me now has become quite simple. I want to write great books which satisfy my readers, earn a decent wage for my work and enjoy the creative process from beginning to end. 

  

Overcoming Anxiety On Wheels

I think everyone suffers from some level of anxiety. Everyone except maybe the Dalai Lama and my husband. While I gather self-help books and try to meditate and 'talk' to my knotted stomach, my beloved husband seems to have been born content. Marrying him was a stroke of genius on my part.

But I'm not writing to congratulate myself on my life choices. However good life is, for me the anxiety is never too many days away from rearing its head. It's like having a heavy magnet in your stomach which attracts all life's uncertainties and holds them there, sometimes so tightly it's hard to breathe.

My experience as a learner driver has really brought it into the spotlight. Had I remained in London I might never have learned. But if you live in Mallorca you really need a car.  A town which is a 12 minute drive away can be as much as an hour and half by a bus. That's not very efficient at all when you're working as a journalist. For my first job reporting for SeeMallorca, I was relying on my husband driving me to do my job. What would Beyonce have said? Independent woman I was not.  

Today I had to interview a remarkable pediatrician called Jorge Muñoz for abcMallorca magazine. His blog for el mundo about working with  children in Chad had moved me to tears. It was to be my first time driving for the job.

The journey began a few hours before I'd even got in the car. That's the problem with anxiety. It is caused by living in the future. The mind keeps asking: what if...  Even when I thought I'd shut my mind up, the apprehension manifested in my body. I felt like I was going to throw up.

According to googlemaps it was an easy-peasy journey. A short stint on the motorway, two roundabouts and voila. Just 15 minutes. To be safe, I left very early.

Half an hour later I was lost.

"Oh my god, I've got my Dad's genes!" I cried, as I went around the roundabout for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. My father is famous in our family for getting lost.

My journey time was getting longer. 8 minutes... 12 minutes... the woman on the Googlemaps kept insisting on some exit that clearly wasn't signposted.

At some point I ended up on a quiet country road heading the wrong way. I was running late now and I couldn't afford to head on for 1km before I could change direction. I decided to risk it and turn around in the narrow little road. Three point turn? More like 33 point turn. Austin Powers came to mind. 

But I did it. I drove in traffic, joined busy roads, got my gear stick stuck on roundabouts, stopped for pedestrians, avoided double parked vans... and at some point, I gave up being anxious. I stopped being scared. I just drove.

Thanks to leaving half an hour early, I only arrived ten minutes late! As I suspected, Dr Muñoz, radiated kindness. I parked my journey to one side as I fully focused on his life. 

Afterwards, after momentarily thinking I'd lost the car in the car park, I found it, one car away from the photographer. I got back in and I drove home in 15 minutes.

I don't feel a sense of failure at having got lost. I feel triumphant that I survived every kind of road and traffic sign my absurd journey presented me with. 

I know I've written it before but I'll keep writing it, as long as it's true: The only way to get rid of the fear is to go out and do it!

I'm going to strive to overcome my anxiety by pulling myself into the present whenever the future tries to destabilise me.

As Echkart Tolle says in The Power of Now:

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On another note entirely: For some light relief and to be whisked away to sunny Mallorca, try out my new novel The Hen Party! 

Face the Fear: Chronicles of a Learner Driver

Three weeks ago I was a nervous wreck. Far from liberating me, it seemed that driving had ruined my life. I was having waking nightmares about crashing the car. Avoiding driving was making me feel like a failure.

I had passed on my third try, after I'd dominated my so-called mad goat personality for the duration of the exam.

On my first day, I hit an Audi.

Yes, on the way back home from a successful 12 minute drive with my husband, I overshot a yield, nosing too far into a road. A car zoomed passed and I was so shocked by what felt was a near miss I didn't hear the beep of horns behind me. Because the entry was uphill, I started rolling backwards. BANG.

I burst into tears, climbed into the backseat and begged my husband to drive us home.Thankfully, there was no serious damage done and the owner of the car never called.

It shook me though and my fear levels grew to an unbearable level, so that I had this shadow hanging over me when I woke up. Every time I stalled the car, I begged my husband to take over. Luckily for me, he refused.

I knew I couldn't go on like this so I bought the book Feel the Fear and I tried to follow my friend's advice of going out every day alone, 28 days in a row. Apparently if you do something every day for 28 days, it brings it into your comfort zone. But I didn't go alone, I always drove with my husband.

"Just sit in the car," my friend said. "Get comfortable just sitting in the car."

One day, I did just that. As soon as I entered the car, I felt so tense. The atmosphere felt thick with negativity. Now my husband is a carefree kind of guy, but put him in the car and he's unrecognisable. If  he doesn't like how someone is driving, he will let them know. "I'm Latin," he tells me, "We do everything with passion!"

Well I don't care what his nationality is, all I know is that when I was feeling nervous and he reached over to hoot my horn while I was driving, I wanted to run him over right there and then! 

Car rage may be something passed down through family, because his father was exactly the same. A lovely, gentle man until he was in the driving seat. It probably has something to do with learning to drive in the Colombian capital of Bogota.

Anyway, so I went and I sat in the driver seat and I breathed in and out. I even talked to the car. I made friends with it. I realised the car was my friend, not my enemy. He's called Pierre actually. Don't ask me why. I started to take him around the block on my own. We live in a very hilly area so it wasn't the easiest block.

Gradually I drove a little further. I got the hang of the clutch. I stopped stalling so much. Going to the supermarket was a huge milestone because it involved parking. Pierre is not a small car; he's a 7 seater Grand Picasso.

Fast forward to today. Today  I drove my friends to the airport.  More importantly I drove back from the airport alone. When I missed my exit and ended up heading for Palma, I didn't panic. 

I reminded myself I'd done this before in class. There were cyclists and buses and motorbikes and I kept calm. I didn't stall once. I made it home. I turned off the car and I grinned from ear to ear.

My books says:

The only way to get rid of the fear of doing something is to go out and do it.

It's so true. I'll keep going out until my hands stop clutching that steering wheel for dear life and my shoulders relax.

Face the fear. I recommend it. It'll feel so much better afterwards.

F is for...

On Friday, after a game of rock, paper, scissors, it was decided I would  be the last person to take their driving test that morning. Expecting an hour wait, I headed to the nearest cafe. My instructor appeared after twenty minutes.

"One drove the wrong way down a street, the other couldn't park. You're up."

I hurriedly put on my coat and paid for my chamomile tea. Although I felt less nervous than the last time, my stomach was still in knots and I was trying to call on every technique I knew to calm down.

The examiner was still talking to the others when I got to the car. They weren't crying at least. Once they'd got out I slipped into the front seat, my instructor beside me, examiner in the backseat.

"When you're ready," the examiner said.

I turned the key, lowered the handbrake, changed to first and started to pull out of the car park. Beepbeepbeepbeep. I stopped to check the beep, which was showing I hadn't lowered the handbrake enough. Damn it. I pushed it down at once, before moving on, hoping the examiner wouldn't take it too seriously. It happens to everyone, doesn't it?

I thought my exam went smoothly. I didn't feel like there were any major problems. I stalled the car twice in my first exam, but this time I felt comfortable, despite the traffic on the motorway exit. After the allotted twenty-five minutes he told me to stop. I turned off the car, feeling nervous but pretty certain I'd passed.

And then he launched into his speech. He mentioned the handbrake...he mentioned I could have slowed down more at one of the zebra crossings.... he mentioned I had lost security distance at the motorway exit and he would have given me a point in my favour if I had not exited at all*. (*I don't believe this for a minute).

As he went on and on, I realised he couldn't look me in the eye. I thought, if he at least looks me in the eye, maybe I can do some Jedi mind trick! But no, he didn't. He droned on and on, while my instructor sat in stony silence in the passenger seat, looking like he planned to reverse over the examiner if he ever finished his lecture and got out of the car.

I don't think I really believed I had failed until he said the word. I stepped out of the car and swore loudly, before turning into a polite Brit and thanking the examiner.

I got home and I couldn't do a thing. I felt really miserable. Exhausted too. At some point I gave up trying to work and just went and lay in bed fully clothed until I fell asleep for two hours. I switched off my phone. Luckily I hadn't told hardly anyone so didn't have to deal with the chirpy, Sooo? messages. 

The next day I received an email from my agent. She said she didn't like my latest idea for a novel I'd sent her. An agent writing to you on a Saturday - that never happens! 

I hadn't recovered from my feelings of failure from the day before, so this just pushed me further into the ground. Not only could I still not drive, my writing career felt like it had stalled. Perhaps I should give it all up and focus on my kids, I thought bitterly. Oh, wait, I couldn't because I hadn't managed to make any yet! In that too, I was a complete failure!

I could observe these vicious thoughts, which meant I wasn't a complete slave to them. I have a lot to thank my parents for. They brought me up on an alternative diet of meditation and spirituality that was tedious at the time, but has come in handy over the years. I've got a lot of tools in my back pocket to deal with failure, I just need the strength to reach for them.

It's Monday now and I'm still trying to get my act together. My Dad told  me that after his own father failed his first driving test he never tried again. He said how you deal with failure shows your strength. I'm not going to give up learning to drive. Not just because it would be a huge waste of money. I'm not giving up because I know I'll get my license in the end. The same way I can't give up writing, because I know, if I keep going, eventually it will pay off.

I have been here before, many times. We all have, haven't we? I know this feeling of failure won't stick around forever. It will pass. It always passes. 

If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading. - Lao-Tzu (Chinese philosopher and writer)

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A Reality Check

I just caught myself about to text the following question to a nomadic friend currently travelling around Asia:

So, when are you coming back to reality?

I stopped before I'd finished the question and tossed my phone aside, disgusted. What was I implying? 

Did I think 'reality' meant a settled lifestyle? A stable job?... a mortgage? 

Had there not been a hint of disapproval in that question? 

Wasn't there an implication that travelling didn't count as reality and therefore not as valuable? As if stepping outside your country is something you must only do briefly before knuckling down to a nine to five job. 

I know people with huge salaries and yet they can't take more than a couple of weeks off a year. Did I consider their reality more sensible?

No, of course not.   

While researching travel writers I stumbled across dozens of websites by digital nomads roaming the world without any intention at all of going 'back home'. I felt impressed by their entrepreneurial spirit and their ability to live with uncertainty. It wasn't what I wanted necessarily, but it did present me with another version of reality.

I had surprised myself, I suppose, by that nearly formulated question. It appeared, despite my irregular writer lifestyle, I  still veered towards the standard  idea of what 'real life' should be.

Dream too big and people will tell you to 'get real' and want to give you a 'reality check'. But just because they are conditioned to think one way, doesn't mean you need to submit to their fears and limitations. It doesn't mean you have to submit to their version of reality.

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray - Rumi

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Addicted to bad news? Don't give up hope yet!

I'd planned to get a head's start for the week by plotting my new novel. But no sooner had I opened my computer I got sucked into social media and the dramatic executive orders being churned out in America. 

What's wrong with you? I snapped at myself, as I found myself clicking off course for the hundredth, nay, millionth time. Are you addicted to bad news?

I wasn't just scanning the tweets, I was clicking on every link and googling further sides to the story. I absorbed so much negativity I ended up with a headache and had to take a break from the novel I had forgotten to plot.

I spoke to a friend who suggested the world was being distracted on purpose so that other deals to do with our privacy rights could be made without us noticing. She suggested I disconnect and concentrate on my novel. 

But my novel seemed a bit pointless in the face of the impending world war. My mind flipped to Anne Frank and how many Muslims I could hide in my attic! 

I knew it was a mistake to continue absorbing any more rage and counter rage so I decided to distract myself by listening to people more intelligent than me. I turned to TED talks.

My first was: How the News distorts Our World View. It's an old video but I still think its relevant. In it, Alisa Miller shows a slide of a world map based on land mass...

and the world, how we see it, shaped by the news (in this example, US news 2008) 

Interesting perspective, isn't it?

I continued in my search feeling thirsty for knowledge perhaps, or guidance.    

I watched a video about why some people are more altruistic than others. It would seem that our brains have a lot to answer for. Apparently psychopaths have a smaller amygdala which makes it more difficult for them to recognise fear which in turn effects their capacity to empathise... 

Thankfully Abigail Marsh ends her talk on a positive note. She concludes that the world is getting more compassionate though it doesn't seem like it.

"There's a common perception that the world is becoming more cruel, but it's not" - Marsh says. "I think it may be because we know much more about the suffering of strangers in distant places so we now care much more about the suffering of those strangers in distant places."

Lastly, I watched a talk by former radical Jihadist, Manwar Ali. 

It was moving to hear Ali's story which gives hope that hearts can be changed. He makes a plea to his audience, and these are the words I'm going to end this day on:

Approach the world... life... with love. Learn to develop... to cultivate... your hearts to see goodness, beauty and truth in others and in the world. 

That way we matter more to ourselves, to each other, to our community and for me, to God.

That G word is a controversial one which I prefer to replace with Love. And I have to believe that we have more power acting from a place of love, than a place of hate.  

Other Post You might be interested in...

Why it's OK to Switch Off the News
Silencing the Inner Critic - what would your best friend say?

For a window into my writing life and occasional bad jokes, find me at Facebook/EmilyBenetAuthor

It's OK to Switch Off the News

Imagine that every time you have an interaction with someone or something, a piece of you remains with that thing or that person. A piece of your energy is left behind.

By the end of the day, there wouldn't be much left of you, would there?

Or imagine yourself as a balloon at a kid's party, leaking helium each time a little pair of hands bops you up in the air. By the end of the day you would be a sagging dollop of plastic incapable of floating.

With all the bad news pouring in from around the globe, we are in danger of giving it our best attention and energy,and leaving ourselves with little to get on with living our lives fully.

It definitely feels like there's an overall sense of malaise. I've recently read blogs by people feeling unmotivated and depressed because everywhere they look they see pain and injustice, and they feel powerless to do anything about it.

When you read an upsetting article, it doesn't end when you finish reading it. You have given a part of yourself away to it. When someone upsets you, you don't stop thinking about them when they walk away. Your energy follows the focus of your mind, whether you are aware of your thoughts or not.

Last summer, I made a friend who shared with me her vision of PersonalPower. The idea is that we all have access to a source of power within us. The problem is we can't always find a way to plug into it. Or, we find we have depleted it because we have been leaking energy left, right and centre.

To refill our energy centre we have to look after ourselves. On a physical level, we need to eat well and sleep enough. Mentally, we might need to de-stress, meditate, get outside the office and spend a bit more time in nature. I look forward to sharing her book when it comes out as it's life changing stuff!

After engaging with a person or a piece of writing or a television programme, she suggests taking a moment to reconnect with yourself. She refers to it as 'calling your energy home'. Ask yourself, am I back inside myself, or is a part of me still with that person, that article, that show?

Call that energy back, take a deep breath, feel your feet on the floor and become aware of your attention. One thing is certain, you can't do anything positive while you're running on low quality energy because you've given all the best stuff to things and people who don't deserve it!

There are times when it seems impossible to focus. However much you meditate or pray or try to concentrate on your goals, you can't seem to escape the negativity. In which case, switch it off. Switch off the noise. 

Turn off the news, unfollow the people who post negative content and give yourself permission to breathe. Give yourself permission to be happy.  

Whatever you do, don't be tricked into reading all the bile on the internet. It doesn't mean you don't care.   

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Do you have influence over yourself?

I dragged myself out of bed this morning with some difficulty. The voice from yesterday's inspirational podcast goaded me on. Don't you have any influence over yourself? If you don't have influence over yourself, how are you going to achieve your goals?

My first goal was to persuade myself to get out of bed early after days of holiday lie ins. I allowed myself five minutes to snooze before sleepily grabbing my yoga mat and forcing my aching body through a few sun salutes. How could I be thirty three and feel like ninety three?

Self-discipline, I thought hazily, you've got to retrain your brain. This will be easier tomorrow.

Then I flopped onto my back and considered snoozing some more, except my feet were too cold. Spanish houses are freezing. It's the stone floors.

After my half hearted work out I took a metallic tasting tea to my desk and spent four hours rewriting one single chapter. Number 10 out of 54. At one point I put my head in my hands and thought: 

THIS IS RIDICULOUS.

But I persevered and that afternoon managed another four chapters meaning I'm back on track to finishing my novel's rewrite this month.  

In a way I think every day can hold the potential and optimism of New Year's Day. Every day is a chance to give life your best shot. And maybe your dream is just to have more time to yourself. More time to think about what it is you really want to do with your life.

My Dad always said he valued efforts over results. I didn't agree with him until now. Yep, now I do think making a genuine effort is what counts. Every day. Falling over and getting back up again. And again. And again.

I think we all have the power to do something special with our lives. We just need to believe it and then influence ourselves into acting on it.     

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New Year Resolutions: Control vs Acceptance

I've always been a big list maker. A goal setter. More enthusiastic about my New Year's resolutions than the big party. One of my most memorable New Year's was when I stayed in to finish writing a short story. It was the first story I ever got  selected for a reading at Waterstones Book Shop in London. It felt like a huge reward at the time for the sacrifice I'd made.

Today I thought I might be pregnant. At five in the morning I took a test with my heart in my throat. What better way to start the new year? I thought excitedly. My mind raced ahead, wondering who I would tell first and how long I would wait until I told them.  

As I waited for the result, there was a power cut and I couldn't see the strip. If this was a film, I thought, the lights would come on and I would see the positive line. Then I would scream. Or maybe I wouldn't. I would slip back into bed and casually whisper to my husband, So, how do you fancy being a Daddy?

The lights went back on. The test was negative. My life isn't a film.

Today as I contemplated writing a blog post, I thought to myself: What's the point of making a list of goals when I have no control over what matters?

But I don't think that's entirely true. We may not have control over everything, but we can choose how we react to events in our life. Today I felt very tempted to succumb to my melancholy and hide under my bed covers. Instead I found a podcast on staying positive when trying to conceive and hoovered my bedroom. Next I'm going to scribble the serenity prayer above my desk.

I don't believe in making impossible resolutions. I'm not someone who decides in January that they are going to go the gym every day from now on. If you didn't go to the gym before, why are you going to go every day? There must have been a reason you didn't go before. Maybe you hate the gym. Fair enough. Perhaps you should choose another way of exercising, like a dance class or martial arts.

Goals should be achievable. So here are mine:

1. Pass my driving exam 

2. Finish rewriting my book The Hen Party

3. Try doing yoga once a week to restore balance in my body!

4. Meditate every day (achievable because I already do this most days!)

5. Get involved with the charity that organises beach clean ups

6. Visit my family more, keep in touch with my friends and surround myself with people who nourish me

7. Write a brand new book

and of course,

8. Keep writing blogs (because it feels so good to share.) 

Thanks to everyone for reading my blog this year and for all the supportive comments across my social networks. It means so much!

For more regular posts, you can find me on Facebook/EmilyBenetAuthor

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Silencing the Inner Critic: What would your best friend say?

 I can't remember if I read it or if someone told me.

What if you talked to yourself as if you were your best friend?

It stopped me in my tracks. My inner critic which had been having a go at me for not getting up earlier, for not working harder, for not being more focused, was interrupted. I realised my best friend wouldn't be talking to me like this. She would be encouraging. She would be telling me to listen to my body. To be kind to myself. To accept some days are more productive than others.

Castellers supporting each other in Santa Ponsa

My inner critic likes to blame me for things beyond my control.  It likes to whisper regrets in my ear. You should have done things differently. You should have known better. But if I swap it for my best friend's voice, it completely changes. The voice says, it's okay, it didn't work out but you learned so much from that experience. Persevere.

My best friend's voice is much more practical than my inner critic. On a really personal note, I thought I'd have a baby by now. It hasn't happened. My inner critic sneers, says I'm not so 'creative' after all. My best friend's voice suggests I go to the doctor again if I'm worried. She tells me to relax. To not beat myself up about it.

This week two of my friends were facing unkind inner critics and I passed on the question:

What if you talked to yourself as if you were your best friend?

Both told me later that it had really helped them. So I thought I'd write it down and share it, in case you need to shut up your inner critic too. 

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