amwriting, books, Human Interest, Inspiration, Opinion, politics, Reflection, Revelations

An Army Family Now – Momma’s Tears

The other day I watched my 24-year-old independent son join the Army. I watched him realize he had a fully successful independent life that he was giving up, to be owned by our U.S. Government for our freedoms. I watched the pride in his eyes. I felt pride in return, and then I cried… for days.

 Today I am better. Filled with some purpose for my own life. 

I keep thinking about him and the last moments that we talked about. I replay every conversation, everything he said to me, and why he chose to go into the Army. 

I suppose to some, I seem ungrateful, maybe not appreciative of his own choice. You need to know that I am very proud that my son would give up his freedom for mine. That in and of its self is honorable. 

I cannot completely identify the pensively, the apprehension, the fear, the understanding that not all boys go in and come home; and I suppose it’s because of the things I have seen and the things that happened to me, that has not happened to the majority of people. I, more than anyone understands how quickly a life can be over and how quickly life can leave you devastated in despair! 

I’m not clear on why the tears continue to fall… I just know that I can’t stop them on my own, but what I don’t need to be told is to shove my feelings aside or be told my feelings shouldn’t matter or be told that I have no right to feel the way I do. I keep thinking of the Bible passage about God forcing Abraham to sacrifice his son on the alter because to me, that’s what this feels like. My faith needs to be as strong as His! 

We are an Army family now and as such, there’s a reality we can’t lie about. My good friend, Dennis, said to me, “He is defending an idea. An idea that is enshrined in the Declaration of independence and the Constitution. The idea that we all have the same inalienable rights. He is there to defend our way of life. Only two people in history to offer their life for yours are Jesus Christ and the American Servicemen.”

I used to believe in idealism too. Sadly I believe and this is just my belief that Americans have moved so past “inalienable rights“ and become so incredibly selfish that I have no faith the president who is our commander-in-chief above all others, will have any less regard for the American population. I digress because this is not about my pride for him, his pride for his country, the idealism of America nor even the pompous jackass who runs it. This is about my love for my boy, plain and simple.

Human Interest

When Is Enough – Enough?

I’m up late again, with worry running through my brain. It’s not enough to worry about my son going into the Army or even the relationships my kids have. Add bills, commitments, interpersonal workings, cultivating relationships, a marriage, ailing family members and animals and a whole slew of stressors and you have one wide-awake woman!

It’s not really my fault. I wasn’t taught how to manage my fears. Just to submerge myself in the worry of it all until I have just had enough! Then and only then does courage take a foothold. The cycle is similar to passive/aggressive but offers more angst along the journey.

Life I have learned has a funny way of smacking you right in the face when you least expect it. Sometimes it hurts so badly that it shakes the very will to live and other times its just movement to get you pointed in the right direction. Either way, to most, including me, sometimes change can be downright painful.

The question is what to do about people within a company who go out of their way to hurt people for selfish reasons? What makes someone want to hurt another person? Why do they do it and then hide behind others to get their way. Why do some people initiate harm and then are surprised by the outcome? My son says it’s a ‘disconnect’ with people. That they haven’t learned to be compassionate.

I have to ask, where did parental teaching go? Surely every mom wants their child to be kind? Was that not instilled or did a collective group of kids become of age, and decide amongst themselves that rules of logic, kindness, respect no longer matter? Have the Kapernicks of the world tainted the general public to the point where there is no sense of independent intellectual thought and thereby believe it’s okay to act like a two-year-old? This question plagues me. Why do people find joy in harming others?

I ponder these questions. I stay up late at night wondering what on earth I can do to make an impact. Call out a false prophet? Call a manipulator one to their face? Hold someone accountable? What if one does that and all that does is cause the offender more anger and more brokenness? Do we just ignore it? Leave it alone? Move on? Please, tell me if you know that answer because when I point it out, I seem to be the only one burned.

Today someone sent me a horrible email. I wanted to make sure I felt the weight of his ability to bully me into compliance for posting a bad review. Yet, HIS company keeps contacting me! Threatening me! Proving my point how unbelievably inept they are. I just don’t understand people. Someone could have reached out, solved the problem, but nope. Just more intimidating tactics. It makes my stomach ache for a time when people were plainly civil to each other.

Well, I have written it down. Caused my brain to rest so late at night I will fall asleep. G’night y’all. Sleep well.

Uncategorized

Laughing At Myself

The other day I asked two besties, age 13, to walk with me. They asked if my youngest, age 12 would be coming along. I answered she wasn’t home but if she was we would walk twice as fast because she naturally has speed some of the best athletes want. They laughed, we went walking.

Low and behold guess who came home, put her stuff down and ran down the street, around the corner and caught up with us. You guessed it, Laura is her name. Well, we began to make a game out of who could get around her and wear her out. By then night fell and we were all getting tired 30 minutes into the walk with 15 more to go. It was dark out.

It was my turn and I ran as fast as I could through the grass but when I did my foot fell into a divot in the grass. The idea that I should have been able to chase her in the dark was preposterous but prideful, sure I’d show her I still had it; face planted knees first in the dirt! I was humiliated! I knew I’d done it to myself. No one but me to blame, I laughed my ass off!

The girls were mortified my knees were bleeding but I reassured everything was okay. All of the joined me in hysterically laughing about how ridiculous I must have looked. Of course, the dangling of June bugs off my shirt didn’t help. They helped me up and dusted me off and I hobbled home–embarrassed!

Sometimes you can’t take yourself too serious! I was prideful, wanted to be young, show them I still had it, and it quite literally but me in the face. I could have given into the failure of my attempt or I could just make light of a very bad situation. I chose the latter.

My knees still hurt, but not as much as my pride. Next time humbleness is in order! ❤️

Thanks for listening!

Rebecca Nietert

Journal Entry

Cat Reminds Me About Parenting

My lovely husband put up a gazebo outside my back door just before my pool so that I could put my outdoor wicker furniture underneath. There’s a lot of foliage in my backyard, and we were struggling with the debris affects, when the wind blew. Every time I try to sit on the beautiful outdoor furniture I had to clean it first. So my husband bought me this highly expensive portable gazebo, that not only gives me the opportunity to write outside because I can see the screen, but allows me to have shade from the hot Texas sun.

I keep a pretty tidy house, so my cat has realized when I put something new in my house or in the backyard. He will typically sniff it until every inch of it has been covered with his nose and determined that it is not life-threatening. So this morning when he came out to inspect the gazebo, I watched with considerable attention to him arch his back, his ears shift back-and-forth, and the dilation of his eyes. He wanted to investigate.

My cat also climbs trees and jumps from the tree to the roof, back to the portico and then down. Well, he got up on the portico and decided it would be a good idea to investigate the top of the gazebo via a flying squirrel trapeze act sort of thing. Naturally, he flew from the portico to the corner of the fabric gazebo and realized his mistake instantly. He had not taken into consideration that it might be a material other than the firm surface that he’s used to flying around in our backyard. He just blindly leaped for it!

He fell hard! I am extremely thankful that cats fall on their feet because he dropped like a ton of bricks. The very first thing I wanted to do was jump up and see if he was OK. But I knew if I did that, he would run away. He walked gingerly away from the scene of the crime, limping on one of his front legs and one of his back legs. Probably from a prior altercation with another cat in the neighborhood? Because it’s only about a 7-foot drop and cats can do that pretty easily. Or at least mine can.

I’m sitting out underneath my new gazebo, drinking my very lovely hazelnut coffee and staring off into the calmness of my pool that is wrapped in beautiful green and floral foliage, and suddenly it hit me that my cats actions reminded me of my three teens and two young adults, who in my opinion, continue the same fearful leap out into the world; based on mere faith.

And then it hit me that maybe what I should do is just watch. Stay out of it? Let them fall? They know that their footing should be on solid ground and yet they continue to put their feet on fabric. They continue to leap out and test their boundaries and while it is ever so dangerous with humans versus cats, it is vitally important that they learn how to limp on their own. It’s important that they learn their lessons. That they understand what they can and cannot do. That limitations beset with natural consequences. Sigh…

I love my cat so much that sometimes I really worry about him. I worry about the fact that a car will hit him. Or that the bobcat in our neighborhood will get him. Or even that a neighbor will fall in love with him, and put him inside their home and take my cat forever. He likes to go into cars to sleep and I’m worried somebody’s going to drive off with him and not know where he came from. I’m afraid he’s going to die in a hot car. There are all kinds of things that terrified me about letting my little tiny boy wonder, but I realize something along time ago. This boy was born on the Bayou by a mom who abandoned him. He is wild. He is an outdoor cat. To lock him up inside the house would be like putting a human in a jail cell. I would never unjustly do that to this animal and I would rather him live his life on his own terms, then to put him in jail because I am terrified he is going to be hurt.

It’s a hard thing to do being a mom. It’s guilt and second-guessing and an undeniable fear; and all of the anguish that comes with the fact that these human beings have brought so much joy into our lives. There is such an abundance of love that we can’t imagine what our life would be like without them.

This morning if my cat taught me anything it was just to calm down. Let them live the same way my parents had to let me live. It’s a humbling existence in the reality of it all. It’s just not an option.

Thanks for listening…

Rebecca Nietert

amwriting

WRITING COACH vs GHOSTWRITER

When authors who have never written a book ask me how I can help them, I answer in one of two ways. Once I obtain their goal for their book and how much they’re willing to put into the project, I inform him or her that I offer two types of support.

Coaching is unique because it can be done with considerable ease. There are elements to each and every story. Great nonfiction writing included. Those are the arc of a story and of course the act structure of a story.  For Fiction further details might include a world-building exercise for Fantasy writers. Each genre has its own set of instructions and rules that your audience, the reader, wants to see in a credible work of art. Coaching points out those necessary components on a one-by-one scenario to help you outline the work and get to the best possible outcome for you, the new author. Payment is usually by hour, but it is certainly not the encumbered task that Ghostwriting is.

Ghostwriting skills that should be performed by the author are prompt content given in a timely manner to the writer responsible for finishing the work.  These timelines would have been spelled out in your negotiated contract and executed per the agreement.  Any facts, pictures, reference materials, or process required documentation would also accompany the writing/voice recording or instructions. Of course, a contract, i.e. permissions would have to be agreed upon and paid before the services are rendered.

The qualities a Ghostwriter would have is a style that the author finds credible.  They would have to be easy to work with and understand your voice is the context of the story not their own.  The ghostwriter should know the proper questions to ask you, based on what she or she knows about the art of storytelling.  If the experience and knowledge is there, he or she will know the direction in which your novel must take to make it comparable to other best sellers. They will type the manuscript in a word document for future editing purposes.  They will give applicable advice on how to portray the story in a proper way.  They will keep confidentiality during the writing process and offer an editing service after completion.

The editing service should be from an industry professional.  The literary world and the grammatical world are two different sets of rules.  An industry professional will look for sequitur issues. They will adjust for flat or missing characters’ rules.  They will know exactly the line-by-line editing that will need to take place and your Ghostwriter should understand this and be able to recommend someone, if not submit to their person on your behalf.

Finally, your Ghostwriter will put your work into a formatted manuscript and help you with your publishing packet.  That means that you will need a query letter, a synopsis, a biography, and a back description of your work for a fiction book. For a nonfiction book, you will need a book proposal, a biography, maybe a one-sheet, and back description for your book.  A Ghostwriter can help you create this packet for you to market your work to either a literary agent, editor, or publishing house.

I hope this helps you understand the difference. Ghostwriting encompasses the responsibility of creation and leadership in addition to providing accurate voice of the person to whom they are writing the story for. Whatever your preference is, Easton-Books can help you save time, energy and money with the services we provide. You need only to ask.  Contact us for a free consult on our services.  #Amwriting #Fiction #NonFiction #Trend #Motivational #Influencer #BookCoach #WritingCoach #Ghostwriter #Getpublished #Selfpublish #Businesstobusiness

authorenterprise.com

amwriting, Inspiration

Mom is No Martyr!

This morning I was awakened by two adorable children of mine. The first said for the second time in two weeks, “I am sick.” Sure enough, a temperature quest proved her declaration. The second screamed, “Zeus (our predatory cat) has ANOTHER bunny!” of course I picked it up and saved it’s life with a lecture along the way of how I warned it earlier that week to stay hidden during the day. Regrettably, bunnies don’t listen well. Same little angel then proclaimed, “My phone is BROKEN AGAIN!” In the most annoying 13-year-old attitude she could muster she then responded to me saying, “Phones just don’t break!” with, “Mine did!” I sighed heavily. I plugged the phone into my charger, commanded she consider the phone worthless and figure out another way to contact friends and sat down for my first cup of coffee.

The phone rang. It was my husband. He was frustrated with the insurance company again and needed my help to find a document. He is the greatest man I will ever know, I should proceed with that. Sometimes his situation drives me nuts! When someone has an issue with health or choice or whatever, don’t you believe it is their responsibility to forge a path of correction? If so, how would one go about this? I find the most intricate arguments are when one or both partners believe that the other is overextending, taking for granted or just flat out not paying attention. Ah, such is the case with all relationships. Mine although nearly as perfect as one could be, is simply not perfect.

I find myself taking a back seat to the needs of those around me, and even though it’s a mother’s necessity (it’s written somewhere I am sure) it is not always an easy pill to swallow. In the words of my 12-year-old (the youngest sick one,) “It’s damn hard!”

Listen, I count my blessings, desperately try to find favor in God, and all the maternal commandments of a wife and mom, but every now and then, I would like to not have to worry about getting my hair done because a kid needs this, or cannot get my nails done because he needs that. When someone is learned enough to visualize the needs are being met for everyone and yet when the well has run dry, well, I wonder why they don’t see it’s a struggle and mom needs a break?

These are the times that are necessary to build love, trust, and companionship in others but it is also the necessary tool to be YOUR VOICE and USE YOUR WORDS to command the time and respect you deserve. You matter. Your feelings matter. It’s not selfish to make them matter to someone. After all, the people in your life are making their needs matter to you. I encourage you to tell your story.

My name is Rebecca and I do just that. I help people navigate through tough emotions and put words to those feelings. I can help you write your story one tiny black mark at a time.

For now take care of you. Then give me a ring….

Rebecca Nietert

amwriting

The Showgirl Stretch!

Last weekend, I was asked to audition for the Dallas Dance Follies for seniors. At first, I couldn’t imagine myself a brand new senior, dancing on stage in front of people. I wondered, doesn’t my friend know me? Then I realized she knows me pretty well. She was asking me to come into her world of the joy that dance brings her, hoping that it would infect my life in the same way.

This past year, one of my ‘character goals’ is to be more present, more in the moment, more joy, more happiness and the more I do, the more fun I have. No longer stuck in the rut of my discontent, I spent the year striving to stretch out of my comfort zones and into the person I want to be. A thriving well rounded, exceptionally great physical condition, smiling happy individual. I decided to take my friend up on her offer and I auditioned.

What surprised me the most in the first of only two audition days, was that I really lost the art of dance. Once upon a time, this was all I lived for. I was good at it. Exceptionally talented in the art of provocative movement. No longer did I possess this strength. The second thing that struck me is how daunting that reality left my confidence. I had never known that kind of physical disappointment with my own body before. The idea that my body couldn’t move where my mind wanted it to go in the way I saw it playing out in my head was absurd! This was me? I made a living doing this!

I left after several grueling hours and not being able to complete the dance steps. I was humiliated and I allowed that to fester deep anger. I was disappointed I said yes. I was equally pissed that I was asked to go. I remained in my pity party until my husband walked me through the logic of the lunacy that my thoughts tortured me. My confidence was shaken. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening and the emotions I keep well tied and placed in their own compartment ran amuck and showed themselves in ways I would rather not reveal. I was a mess!

Naturally, when the second day came, I said there is no way I am doing this. It was time to put this senior body into a leotard and tights and prance around as though I did when I was in my early 20’s. Heck no! I gave myself a hundred reasons not to go. The first being I would have to dance in a leotard! The many that followed all had to do with how someone else was going to look at me and judge me. Then I got it. Who cares!

I went to that audition, and I may not be picked, but what I will have is the fact that I met some really talented and marvelous women. I had the time of my life when I decided to lay down all my preconceived notions about how it should turn out. Once I dealt with the fact and only the data and did only what I could do, I found out that once I was really out of my headspace, I had a great time. The steps were a whole lot easier and I really enjoyed myself.

That’s how life is sometimes. Actions we believe will be painfully difficult end up being our biggest reward. When a person no longer allows their own emotions to undermine their success, the word, ‘overwhelming’ doesn’t come in to play anymore. It holds no more power. As I push through the intense to-do list of my week, I need to remind myself of what actually is a priority, what I can lay down and balance with fun, and what I can ask someone to help with. Life is about the dance. I hope you find your rhythm today and that it brings you as much peace and joy as it should.

Take care, Rebecca Nietert. To learn more reach me at http://www.RebaNietert.com or contact me at for publishing or writing advice.

Human Interest

13-Year-Old’s Story of Survival

In April 2016 our home grew larger with the addition of a 13-year-old teen, an 11-year-old tween girl and a 10-year-old little female angel. I had no idea what to expect except that I knew they would all be broken in different ways. They lost their parents due to cancer.

The first year, I learned a few things. 1. As the caregiver, guardian, chief raising officer; I was not allowed to complain about any part of the process without offending a majority of onlookers who believed I should be emotionally controlled over the whole terrifying experience. 2. The kids although tragically sad the first year would eventually be ok. 3. Once I took over their whole support group through the deaths vanished. Maybe they thought I was capable and that my strength ensured they could get on with their own lives. I am grateful for them don’t get me wrong, but the kids suffered more loss.

2017 was the “Year of the Firsts.” The first time they had birthdays without their parents. The first Mothers or Fathers Day. Dates were a huge deal. The tears that flowed that year could have filled rivers both by them and by me. I couldn’t stand to see them in so much pain!

The middle child was the hardest to connect with even though us two were the closest before I became the authority. Once that happened the pain inside her pushed back. The struggle between the both of us was epically out of control in no time.

I jumped into action and aligned support I respected and through DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) one day at a time we took this broken little girl and turned her into a secure happy and productively respectful child who submits to authority yet has her own sense of individuality.

Which is the reason for my blog post. I’ve decided to write my memoir up until the day I received custody of the children. I’ve purposely left the after for them because it’s their story to tell. A a writing coach I have tried to encourage them to write about their journey.

With that in mind, I want to announce the now 13-year-old will be starting a podcast to introduce her story and how she can through the pain. Check back often as we figure out how to do this, I will post the links to her story soon! I hope you tune in.

Take care, Rebecca

Inspiration

Resonating Example of Anger

This past weekend I witnessed two angry people hashing out their differences in public. Normally I just let what other people say to wash off me, but their anger resonated with me. I wonder often, why people are so angry, and then I realized, “why do I care?” I noticed I’m way too invested in what someone else is doing, rather than focusing on the moments around me that could offer joy. Here’s what she said to him: (I’m paraphrasing because as she and he slaughtered each other I took short notes. Yes, without permission so please don’t judge me. She’s younger. He’s older than her but not by much.)

In a tempered but serious tone, she said, “You’re absolutely miserable! You sit on your throne of a recliner quarterbacking everyone else’s life except for your own. You wake up every single day and cannot wait to get to your *insert explicative* iPad. You’re so focused on politics and what you fear an entire generation is going to do without your ranting and raving. You spend every waking minute disparaging another person, determining the faults and the mistakes they make; pointing them out, and stepping on them to elevate yourself! Then you tell them they don’t have a right to live their own life because they don’t agree with you. You are a miserable son of a bitch who is so lost and so alone and so afraid that you can’t even see your prejudices! You’re so worried about what somebody else is doing! You don’t even know who they are. You don’t know what they’ve been through. You don’t know their backstory. You don’t know what brought them to their beliefs! But you’re so damn quick to judge them and that judgment is making you an absolutely miserable person.”

He looked pissed off! Without responsibility, he said, “I have a right to my opinion. People have to know! It is my job to tell them why they’re wrong. Without people like me, this country is in serious trouble because the Liberals are going to bring it down because they don’t understand what they’re doing. If I don’t say something that I’m just as guilty as everybody else who is apathetic.”

She gasped and then she slapped her forehead. “Do you even hear yourself. What are you doing? Are you running for office? Are you paying for ad campaigns? Are you backing up a particular candidate? No! The only thing you do is post hate and discontent on social media. As though it is everybody else’s job to understand what you have been through, lift you up and agree with you; and make you feel like what you believe is 100% more valuable than what they believe. The only thing you’re doing is spreading more hate and more judgment and creating more division. You’re an argument begging to happen! You live to tell someone how wrong they are and how superior you are, as though your dictatorship of thoughts should be the only opinion considered!? Is that American? Is that equal? Compassionate? No!”

I cocked my head and nodded because people have said this about me. I had to take a step back and admit at times I’ve had nothing but FB in my life and in those times focused on the latter of what it offered and not the positive. As I writer I observe all the time. I continued to write as he rebutted.

Wounded now he stated, “You talk about me being hateful. What about you right now. You have hate in your heart for me.”

She sighed heavily and replied, “You just don’t get it. Please tell me the difference between your ideals and terrorist ideals? Aren’t they both born in anger? You judge me because I hold you to the same accountability you hold others. You judge me because even though I’ve lived a life of tragedy with lots of pain and loss I clearly don’t feel the sorrow as deeply as you and therefore my pain is dismissed. You judge me because you say that I shouldn’t have an opinion, because I don’t understand the things that you do, yet you show me no compassion! Damn if you don’t expect me to respect you in return. You judge me because I am young, and I am trying to forge my way in the world I don’t understand, yet you begrudge those who told you that you did not have the right to forge your path. You are a walking contradiction afraid to look at yourself. So lonely. It is always somebody else’s fault for the way you feel and never your own.”

Then even angrier she shouted, “No one is going to rescue you from the choices you make! No one is going to come to your house and force you to get out of that recliner. No one is going to force you to live your best life. No one is going to come up to you and apologize to you for what you’ve been through, because everybody else goes through their own shit. It is not our responsibility to make you feel worthy or smart or force you to focus on your own happiness, that’s your job! All the spouting off, all the anger, all the judgment, all the bias and the contempt for others is just murdering your soul. You can’t even see how unattractive it makes you.”

She walked away and I gathered my tablet and things and I do too. Kind of wanted to cry!

Take care,

Rebecca Nietert

amwriting

Overwhelming To-Do! Ack!

What does someone do when they have a to-do list that is so long it paralyzes them? A woman I met the other day stated, “I have so much to do that I take out my list-read it-feel overwhelmed-check Facebook and then it’s over! Nothing gets done!” How many of us do that very same thing?

In my case, quite admittedly, I have to be on social media several times a day. I have two constructed websites that are designed to bring in income. I have ads on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn that need to be analyzed and modified. I have Twitter feeds that I need to increase numbers. I have Linkedin but I need to increase my reach with. I have Facebook profiles and pages and groups that need attention. Somehow I have to manage and the entire platform of supporting social media such as Instagram in such a way that it brands what I do in a unique and approachable way. I have Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc… so being on social media for me it’s just not an option! It’s my business.

I have however from time to time, thought about hiring a social media expert so that I could continue to do my writing, editing, reading, coaching, inspiring, cheerleading, etc. with other authors. Sometimes it just gets to be too much! What’s a girlie to do!?

Here’s what I know. Getting on social media should have a time limit! I have three pages-single-spaces by the way; of things I must get done. However, my reality is that 5 or less of today’s “priority list” will actually get marked off. Yes, I have a 10 point prioritized list that changed daily! Some days hourly!

Give yourself a break! While it’s important to do things it is also equally important to have joy in mundane tasks. Take a moment to stand, get a healthy snack, breathe with your eyes closed, look out a window, get some coffee and “just be” with yourself once in a while. Smell the roses if you will. Anything to help you not feel so overwhelmed!

That’s my advice for the two cents it’s worth. As for me, I’m logging off and going to spend 20 minutes with my 12-year-old so she can show me how to hoverboard. Yep.

Take care, Rebecca Nietert, Publisher, author, speaker, chief cook, and taxi driver and all-around kook!