March 2018

Why Can’t I Be More Like Hetty?

Leave a Comment / America, Determination, dreams, enduranceHardship endurance women history, Women History /

“Hetty” Green (November 21, 1834 – July 3, 1916), was the richest woman in America during the Gilded Age. She was a single woman working a fortune amidst a sea of men – her nickname, Witch of Wall Street.

 

Why can’t I be more like Hetty. When it comes to money, I never have enough. For that reason, anger stirs in the pit of my stomach when I think about the sugary green stuff. Like a sweet layer of whip cream on a strawberry torte, it teases at me only to land on my hips, leaving me nothing except an empty bowl and a decreased bank account after I am forced to purchase the latest diet products and exercise DVDs. After reading Demi Stevens’s blog this morning, I believe my disdain is misdirected.

 

I was born in the middle and unlike my two sisters I have buttery fingers. Enticed by the iced confections in life, I have no patience. The oven takes too long to preheat, all while I am standing in the crumb-infested kitchen with the oozing batter dripping from my spoon and the thick aroma of vanilla and sprinkles dancing in the air. Not to mention, the left over Cool Whip lingering on my lip because I stole a lick. I break, to hell with watching the delicacy rise and swirl. I drive straight to the bakery, tossing my hard work into the yard for the birds.

 

This recipe for money I have followed for fifty-years. The sweet confections suck me in. I have enjoyed life; vacations, scuba lessons, horses, knitting, spinning, farming, and a host of critters – not to mention I am self-employed (a sure way to devour the money.) This desire has left a bad taste. I am back in the kitchen-my bun in the oven taking twice as long to plump up again.

 

Somehow, God always takes care of me. I am healthy and can work, able to do extra baking and kneading. Unfortunately, this burns me up, I’m over-cooked and my cookie jar always short of that perfect dozen.

 

Can I be more like Hetty? Hetty, it is said, was a miser; never turning on the heat and wearing the same black outfits. Whether true or not, the fact is I don’t respect how hard I worked for the ingredients. The sweetness calls me. I have no willpower. I let go before the jar is full. It’s not the money that angers me, but the calories living on my hips – the bills in my basket, the cost of my impatience. I need to be more creative, more patient. Build my cupboards before its too late. Because had I been a little less sugar- dependent, I would be living a sweeter life today.

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Money-oh so sweet!

Leave a Comment / Author, Demi Stevens, dreams, Inspiration, Mentor, money, Uncategorized, Writing, Yotbookpress.com /

Money. When it comes to money, I never have enough. For that reason, anger stirs in the pit of my stomach when I think about the sugary green stuff. Like a sweet layer of whip cream on a strawberry torte, it teases at me only to land on my hips, leaving me nothing except an empty bowl and a decreased bank account after I am forced to purchase the latest diet products and exercise DVDs. After reading Demi Stevens’s blog this morning, I believe my disdain is misdirected.

I was born in the middle and unlike my two sisters I have buttery fingers. Enticed by the iced confections in life, I have no patience. The oven takes too long to preheat, all while I am standing in the crumb-infested kitchen with the oozing batter dripping from my spoon and the thick aroma of vanilla and sprinkles dancing in the air. Not to mention, the left over Cool Whip lingering on my lip because I stole a lick. I break, to hell with watching the delicacy rise and swirl. I drive straight to the bakery, tossing my hard work into the yard for the birds.

This recipe for money I have followed for fifty-years. The sweet confections suck me in. I certainly have enjoyed life; vacations, scuba lessons, horses, knitting, spinning, farming, and a host of critters. A lovely house, a nice car and not to mention I am self-employed (a sure way to devour the money.) This desire has left a bad taste. I am back in the kitchen-my bun in the oven taking twice as long to plump up again.

Somehow, God always takes care of me. I am healthy and can work, able to do extra baking and kneading. Unfortunately, this burns me up, I’m over-cooked and my cookie jar always short of that perfect dozen.

Truth is I don’t respect how hard I worked for the ingredients. The sweetness calls me and I have no willpower. I let go before the jar is full. It’s not the money that angers me, but the calories living on my hips – the bills in my basket, the cost of my impatience. I need to be more creative, more patient. Build my cupboards before it’s too late. Because had I been a little less sugar- dependent, I would be living a sweeter life today.

Money-oh so sweet! Read More »

The Village of Write

3 Comments / Author, Books, courage, dreams, Inspiration, Mentor, Publishing, women, Writing /

The African proverb, “It Takes a Village,” speaks to many aspects of our lives—the writing life included.  I discovered building alone was not easy. We need neighbors. Before I erected my own village, my journals were locked behind doors—suffering from rejection and fear.

I began to see constructive patterns of those who boldly paved roads around me. They had a similar foundation. So, I began the literary journey to build a village I call Write.

My mother laid the first stone. In Write, my mother lives on Main Street, adjacent to the church. Her door is always open to fill me with homemade pie… and red wine to energize my body. But when I must rekindle my soul, she points to the steeple and advises, “Every village needs a church. It’s neighbors and faith that will send you angels to guide you.”

My village of Write has a school with teachers, from the very first professor who red lined my every word to doctors and nurses who rebuild my creations today. The library houses lots of books with advice including, 101 Ways to Get Published, Writer’s Market, and Writing with Soft Hands. The shelves are lined in classics by Atwood and Twain to awaken the soul… and Harlequin romances to stir the bones.

At the village conference center, the best authors and mentors come to speak. I have autographed copies of their books, signed with encouragement like “Never give up,” or “Persist at all cost.” I visit the Write Salon after days of edits. My stylist conditions, massaging my creative brains. At the Writing Gym on Mondays I exercise with my aspiring peeps and ponder all the ways to pen “his chiseled jaw,” or “her beating heart.”The village newspaper employs agents and publishers who read my queries… and if I get lucky send one-word critiques.

My church is growing, with new angels every day, like Demi Stevens; her Year of the Book process was a road map to success that introduced me to an inspirational woman, Debbie Herbert, best-selling author, and 2017 RITA finalist, who shrouded me in incentive.

“It takes a village.” We share a path, and our community builds me up when I am adverb-tired, genre-lost, or POV perplexed. Together we survive.

This is a partial version of my story, The Write Village. I hope it inspires you.

Alicia Stephens Martin author of Spurred to Justice to be released summer, 2018.

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The Write Village

1 Comment / Author, Determination, enduranceHardship endurance women history, hairdresser, Inspirational, Journey, Mentor, passion, Publish, thought provoking /

 

The African proverb, “It Takes a Village,” speaks to many aspects of our lives—the writing life included.  I discovered building alone was not easy. We need neighbors. Before I erected my own village, my journals were locked behind doors—suffering from rejection and fear.

I began to see constructive patterns of those who boldly paved roads around me. They had a similar foundation. So, I began the literary journey to build a village I call Write.

My mother laid the first stone. In Write, my mother lives on Main Street, adjacent to the church. Her door is always open to fill me with homemade pie… and red wine to energize my body. But when I must rekindle my soul, she points to the steeple and advises, “Every village needs a church. It’s neighbors and faith that will send you angels to guide you.”

My village of Write has a school with teachers, from the very first professor who red lined my every word to doctors and nurses who rebuild my creations today. The library houses lots of books with advice including, 101 Ways to Get Published, Writer’s Market, and Writing with Soft Hands. The shelves are lined in classics by Atwood and Twain to awaken the soul… and Harlequin romances to stir the bones.

At the village conference center, the best authors and mentors come to speak. I have autographed copies of their books, signed with encouragement like “Never give up,” or “Persist at all cost.” I visit the Write Salon after days of edits. My stylist conditions, massaging my creative brains. At the Writing Gym on Mondays I exercise with my aspiring peeps and ponder all the ways to pen “his chiseled jaw,” or “her beating heart.”The village newspaper employs agents and publishers who read my queries… and if I get lucky send one-word critiques.

My church is growing, with new angels every day, like Demi Stevens; her Year of the Book process was a road map to success that introduced me to an inspirational woman, Debbie Herbert, best-selling author, and 2017 RITA finalist, who shrouded me in incentive.

“It takes a village.” We share a path, and our community builds me up when I am adverb-tired, genre-lost, or POV perplexed. Together we survive.

This is a partial version of my story, The Write Village. I hope it inspires you.

Alicia Stephens Martin author of Spurred to Justice to be released summer, 2018.

The Write Village Read More »