Funny How Life Works (Tara Taylor Quinn)

Not too long ago I was accused of burying my head in the sand. Okay, give me a break, if I was, it was only for protection from the shrapnel flying around me. And maybe accusation is too strong a word. I had the fact gently pointed out to me. More than once. In a tone that grew louder so that I could hear it.

I will be grateful for the rest of my life for that piece of insight. Somehow in the past months my way of coping with challenges that had seemed to be bigger than I was, had changed. Instead of taking them on, I'd given up. I'd cowered. I learned to bury my head and wait for the air to clear. And maybe sometimes that's necessary. Maybe you have to lay low and wait for resources to help you stave off the adversarial bullets. Or at least to rest your weary soul until the well is filled enough to keep you hydrated while you take on the barbs being flung in your direction.

And then, with the help of an earthly angel, I saw me, lying there, deaf and blind, with the footprints of life embedded in my prone back. And it wasn't just past footprints. No, there were fresh ones. And they were going to continue to be laid on my raw flesh for as long as I laid there in their path.

Suddenly, standing up seemed easy. A heck of a lot easier than continuing to bear the pain of all those feet stomping on me! In two weeks time I feel as though I've moved mountains. At least, I've started to do so. More importantly, like when you work out instead of lay in front of the television set, I'm getting stronger every day. Amazing how getting up and expending energy actually builds energy. Inertia begets inertia. Action begets action.

So, I started taking back my life. I used to make ice cream on a regular basis. And then a few years ago, I stopped. Last year I lost the ice cream maker. And last weekend, my husband and I bought a new one. I made Oreo ice cream for my step daughters for Easter dinner. Such a small thing, making ice cream. And yet, as I filled the blender with my special ingredients, and then listened as the electric ice cream maker spun its magic, I somehow settled back into myself. There was a sense of familiarity, a personal rhythm, that I'd been missing, and yet it greeted me as though it had been there all along. Welcome Home.

So, here's the funny thing about how life works. You lie down and life doesn't seem to respect you much. It doesn't even seem to like you all that much. You stand up, you say no, you have the courage to fight battles that seem larger than you are, you take back control where you can and face that which seems to be stronger than you are, and suddenly, life likes you a lot. Or maybe it's you that likes you, I don't know, but life definitely cooperates. Things that are out of your control suddenly start to work with you, instead of against you.

Yesterday was the dreaded day of the year for many of us writers. It was the day the RITA calls went out. For a few lucky ones, the day would be one they would always remember, a day they would re-cant over and over again to anyone who would listen. It would be a dream come true. One of those magical moments. That phenomenal rendition of the day would be for the less than a hundred authors who actually GOT the call. The rest of the hundreds of us out here would wait by the phone, or not, we'd try to pretend we didn't care, we'd prepare for the disappointment when the phone rang and it was just a loved one needing something from us - or we'd block the day completely from our minds so we didn't suffer any of those things. Some of us would hang on line all day, watching as peers made posts about getting the call, and we'd congratulate every one of them, all the while our hearts would be sinking because their celebration was confirmation that we weren't going to have one. We'd tell ourselves that it's all subjective (which it is) and that it didn't mean we were bad writers (and it doesn't.) Some of the more valiant of us would shrug off the day with an 'oh well, there's always next year.'

For those of you who don't know, the RITA awards are the highest accolades in our genre. They're like the Grammies, or the Emmy's, given away at a black tie (okay, black dress, we're mostly women) affair in a show similar to the Academy Awards. There are only 12-15 RITA's awarded each year. To final for a RITA - the calls that went out yesterday went to this year's finalists - means four months of hype and publicity and anticipation of the great event in July, followed by four days of wining and dining and celebrating at the venue (this year in San Francisco) culminating in the final night and the Award Ceremony. The finalists all sit down front with their editors and with one guest a piece. The lights go down. The stage lights come on. The voice over booms. The glitter appears. And...you get the picture.

Last week, in preparation for the Dreaded Day (yesterday) I told my husband that RITA calls were going out in seven days. On Monday I told him, that RITA calls were going out the next day. Yesterday morning, I reminded him, just in case he'd missed my other moans, 'RITA calls go out today'. And when I met him for lunch, I told him that people had started posting on line. The Calls had gone out. I didn't get one.

My husband, wise and blessed man that he is, calmly asked if all the calls happened at exactly the same time. Couldn't some still be coming? Yes, I allowed, as some of the board members who made calls worked outside the home during the day so there could be another surge of calls. But...

He said I looked tired. I said I was depressed. He asked why. I said because it was a grey day and I was missing my mother. (Both true statements.) But we have a lot of grey days in Ohio. And I miss living close to my mother even when the sun is shining.

And on the way back home, as I drove the long winding country roads with my silent phone as my only companion, I suddenly took charge. I looked at it and told it to just hurry up and ring. The Call had to come this year. It just did. 'Just hurry up and do it,' I silently directed.

It did. It rang. It was the groomer telling me Jerry and Taylor were done and eager to come home. I was eager to have them home. Remember, I was depressed, and those babies lighten my heart.

I went and got them. I went to the grocery. I came home. Avoided e-mail that would be filled with congratulations - I was truly happy for my sister writers, just couldn't face the silent jeers of 'you weren't good enough' that my own psyche would conjure up. I read headlines. And eventually took a deep breath, got my head out of the sand, and faced the things I couldn't control. I opened my e-mail program. And there they were - post after post of congratulations.

And right in the middle of them, there was this thing that said, RITA Finalist Info. Funny, why should I be getting that? It was a private post. Why did I need info for my greatly talented friends? I opened the e-mail with a frown on my face. I've moved. RWA (Romance Writer's of America who sponsors the RITA Awards) didn't have my current phone number. So I didn't get the Call.

I got the E-MAIL.

The book I told you all about last summer - the one where the heroine had been raped and the hero was her rapist - the book that was a huge risk - is a RITA finalist. I'm standing up tall. Actually I jumped up. I screamed. And then was certain I'd read wrong and went to a different computer (like that would make a difference) brought up my e-mail there and found the message again. The font was different, but the message said the exact same thing. Yep, Sara's Son finaled.

And as life would have it, those things that are out of my control, are well organized - better organized than if they were in my control. Because the RITA hype and publicity is all coming for Sara's Son at the exact time that the sequel to the book, Trusting Ryan, is being released.

Also, as life would have it - standing up works for all of us. I have THREE very special sisters right here on Storybroads who have been standing up all year. You all see them face hardship with honesty and open eyes, with determination and cheer, and they got THE CALL.

A round of applause, please...

PATRICIA POTTER!!!! Is a finalist with Beloved Warrior!!
MAGGIE SHAYNE!!!! Is a finalist with Demon's Kiss!!
ANNE STUART!!!! Is a DOUBLE finalist with Ice Blue and Ice Storm!!

Funny How Life Works...