Category Archives: pursuing dreams

Believing in Yourself

For many, many years, I didn’t believe in myself. I still struggle with that. So writing has been a journey of self-discovery and growth as I have gained confidence in my abilities and gifts. I don’t mean I’m proud or haughty about it, at least I hope not. But I do think we all have gifts and talents and abilities and should have confidence to use those. But for many, many years, I didn’t have any confidence. I was shy. It wasn’t publishing my first or nineteenth book that gave me confidence. No, confidence was hard won through lots of work and climbing that mountain of self-doubt. Taking the risk that I might fail or embarrass myself gave me confidence in knowing if I did embarrass myself it wasn’t the worst thing ever. If I did fail, then I could dust off and get back on my feet and try again or try something else. Failing wasn’t the worst-case scenario either. NOT trying, NOT risking was much, much worse.

Joining my first critique group was frightening. Reading aloud a chapter I’d written to other wannabe writers was a huge step. Each time I did it, I overcame another fear. Hearing the things that needed to be fixed, I learned things about my writing and gained confidence to try again.

Then this shy person had to start speaking to groups. I battled a whole bunch of other insecurities. But each time I spoke to a group about writing or my journey, again my confidence grew.

It’s okay to have fears. We all have them. But you have to battle them. Fear, I have learned, does not come from God. It is a tool of the evil one. Don’t let him win. Don’t let your fears get the best of you. Stand up to those fears. Battle them. And you will be the winner.

So what is your fear?

Dreams do come true!

Taking Risks

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Obviously, I’m a big believer in pursuing dreams. I encourage my own children to pursue their passions and set goals for reaching those dreams. At one point, my son wanted to be a director. I encouraged him, gave him tools that would help him. Eventually, that dream faded. And that’s okay. I’ve seen sparks of it coming back to life. Some dreams fade. Some dreams change and morph. Some grow more intense.

When I was a kid my dream was to be a Highlandette, which was my high school’s dance/drill team. I would march around my house as an eight-year-old, kicking my skinny legs and smiling wide just like a high-stepping Highlandette. I remember going to the football games with my family on Friday nights and watching the Highlandettes march out onto the field during half time. I dreamed I’d one day march onto the field wearing that red starched skirt and white boots and the audience would stand and cheer.

For many years I took dance and started teaching at my local dance studio when I entered high school. So I was well prepared when the time came to try out for Highlandettes at the end of my sophomore year. For two weeks we practiced after school, learning the routines. The tryout was in two phases. Cuts would be made, then another tryout for the selection of 55 girls who would be the next group of Highlandettes.

I made it through the first cut. But some of my friends didn’t. They were crying, and I was rattled. Before I’d dried my own tears and finished hugging those who had been cut, I was called to start the next phase of the tryout. My heart was back in the locker room with my friends. Suddenly I couldn’t remember the routine. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I marched out of the gym, knowing I hadn’t made the team. I was heartbroken.

For days I cried. My mother said, “Get over it.” And maybe I should have. But during the next year, I learned a valuable lesson. One week I would think, “I’m not going to try out again. No way.” But then I’d see my friends who were now Highlandettes performing, I’d remember my dream, and I’d change my mind. I did want to be a Highlandette. But I was afraid. I was afraid I’d fail again and there would be no other chance. Slowly over the year, I came to the realization that it was my last chance to become a Highlandette, and a solid determination formed inside me.

The end of my junior year in high school, I started the two weeks of learning the routines. It was during one of those practices that I pulled my hamstring. It’s very hard to do a high kick routine with a pulled hamstring. But I pampered my leg, wrapped it well, and kept focused on my goal.

Nothing was going to distract me. Nothing. So the day of the tryouts, I prayed, “Please, God, no matter what happens, let me be satisfied with my performance.” You see, during the last year, that’s what had eaten a hole in my heart, knowing I hadn’t done my best in the final tryout. I didn’t want to have any regrets. I wanted to give it my all.

All these many years later, the lessons I learned during my last two years of high school have become almost a mantra for me in the pursuit of my dream of writing. You see, I learned to focus on my goal. I’m talking laser focus. And I learned to never give up that dream. Hang onto it, nurture it, go for it with everything you have.

Well, I suppose you’re wondering how that tryout turned out. I will say that I marched out of the gym with a smile on my face. I was proud of my performance. I could live with that. No matter what. The next day, when I drove to the high school to await the names being posted in the school’s windows, I held my breath. Four posters were taped to the windows at exactly 2:00pm. I scanned each one, but my name wasn’t there.

Even though my heart was sinking fast, I lifted my chin, determined to be proud of my performance anyway, and I turned to leave, stopping to congratulate my friends who had made the team. Then, a girl named Cindy called my name. She hugged me. She was crying and smiling. I could feel my heart breaking because I knew she had made the team. But she kept hugging me, looking at me strangely. My brain slowly clicked into what she was saying, “You made it!”

“No,” I told her. “My name’s not up there.”

So together we looked at the posters. “No,” she said, “down here.”

I hadn’t seen the fifth poster in the last window. And there it was – my name – I was a Highlandette. The first of many of my dreams had come true.

I bet you have a dream too. Reaching a dream isn’t easy. It demands focus and giving you’re all. But it also requires you not to give up, to take risks. So hang on, try again, keep trying until you see that dream become a reality.

Dream Big

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When I was just starting out writing, I knew other beginning writers who would say, “Just writing a book is an accomplishment.” I agreed but then again…I didn’t agree. My dream wasn’t just to write a book (that was step one of many to get to my dream), but my dream was to be published by a real print publisher, preferably by a New York publishing house. That was my dream. By the way, those who said that statement about just completing a book only did that. They never went on to publish. So be careful how you phrase your dream.

When you are deciding, committing and disciplining yourself about your dream, be specific what that dream is. Yes, it is an accomplishment to complete a book. And if you are pursuing publication, then once you reach ‘The End’ of that very first book, you definitely deserve a celebration! But don’t pat yourself too hard on the back and for too long. The hard work is just beginning. Writing, someone famous once said, is rewriting.

Whenever you are pursuing a BIG goal, there are many smaller goals along the way that must be achieved. It’s all a building block and foundation for the bigger dream. Write those down, think about them, pursue each one passionately. Each step forward will put you that much closer to your goal. I’ve even known very visual folks who drew a map and marked off sections they completed so they could see how they were closing in on their dream.

So are you ready to share your dream? What do you want to do? If you still don’t know? What are you doing to figure that out?

Got a dream? Part 5

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I hope you’ve enjoyed so far our discussions of pursuing dreams. Let’s review 1-4 first.

What does it take to pursue your dream?

1. Decision.
2. Commitment.
3. Discipline.
4. Sacrifice.

But it takes one more thing—guts. It takes guts to take a risk. I mean, really, who would have ever thought I could publish a book? Much less leave a job to pursue some wild and crazy dream. It would have been easier to stuff that dream and stay in that dusty classroom. But I took a risk. And believe me, people laughed. Which hurt. There were bumps and ruts and hairpin curves along the way. It wasn’t a ski lift ride to the top I can assure you. Heck, I’m not at the top yet. Maybe I won’t ever be. But I love writing. I love pursuing my dream.

I remember when my son first started fencing. He was five and when I’d asked what he wanted to do–soccer, basketball, baseball–he’d answered with fencing. So first I had to find a fencing club. After his very first lesson, he climbed into the car all hot and sweaty and with a great big grin said, “I’m living my dream!”

My daughter’s experience with singing was not quite the same. She LOVED to sing and she sang everywhere. But by the time she was six or seven she was starting to get shy and wouldn’t sing in front of others. That would be okay except my daughter had a pretty good voice. And she loved to perform. So when she was eight, I forced her (mean mommy that I am) to take singing lessons. She cried every week, saying, “I don’t want to do the recital.” At first I’d say, “Well, it’s seven months away.” But then I finally said, “We’ll get through the recital and then you can quit if you want.” Well, of course, my performing daughter LOVED it. And each year brought more and more confidence until she is really amazing. She makes it look easy now but it wasn’t. It took guts for her to go to voice lessons each week. It took real courage for her to get up on that first stage and sing. I’m so proud of her for even trying. And it takes real courage for my son to put on his fencing equipment and face the blade of another fencer. And yes, it’s a dangerous sport.

There are ups and downs along the way. I’ve achieved a few things and I’ve failed at others. That’s life. My son has won some tournaments and lost some. My daughter has gotten some parts and not others. But we keep trying. It all goes back to that first risk when I decided to be a writer, when they decided to fence and sing.

So are you gutsy or wimpy?