About ltownsdin

Author of the Spirit Lake Mystery Series

Lesson Learned

Posted on March 5, 2013 by ltownsdin

This morning I didn’t want to get up for my 5 a.m. fitness session. I whined to myself about sore knees and arms and my favorite excuse, “I’m not young; I need extra time to recover from strenuous workouts.”

I’d signed up for three sessions a week and hadn’t missed any so I decided to show up. But I wouldn’t give it 100%.

Once I was surrounded by a roomful of motivated women and a white board filled with sit ups, pull ups, pushups, squats, etc., to complete, I forgot about the aches and got down to business.

Sixty minutes later on the drive home, I felt satisfied that I’d given my all and was proud of the progress I’ve made since beginning the workouts a few months ago. Every muscle in my body has gotten stronger and that means I can do more of everything I love. I have more energy throughout the day and I’m healthier. A huge payoff.

What does this have to do with writing? I thought, why not give my writing activities the same effort and commitment? Why not push it farther than I thought I could go? And, most importantly, why not do it without all the whining?

Lesson learned?

Sometimes you can surprise yourself by just showing up. Something extra might kick in and you’ll end up giving 100%.

Doing push ups in Half Moon Bay, CA

Heart—Posterior View

Posted on February 13, 2013 by ltownsdin

Made up of two halves,

the heart is divided by the septum.

Where did the rift between us occur?

Left subclavian artery or aortic arch?

Perhaps the right atrium, always pulsing,

pumping out those feelings.

Or was it the oh so superior vena cava?

Most likely the inferior.

My inferior vena cava has always felt, well, inferior.

After all our history, your footprints

were all over my pericardium.

How could they not be

after confessing every heartbreak

every fear, every shameful secret?

And each triumph

when shared with you

more meaningful.

When you abandoned me

my left common carotid artery

bled out.

I was half a person

with half a heart.

I blame the septum.

Always divisive, controlling

what comes in and what goes out.

Published in Soul of the Narrator Anthology Vol. III, Fall 2012

Mixed Media
Linda Townsdin

The Universe is Speaking

Posted on January 28, 2013 by ltownsdin

I’ve learned to pay attention when the universe knocks on my door. Admittedly, in the past, I have let multiple hints slip right by me until something drastic comes along to jolt me out of my fog.

This time the messages started with a notebook from the bins inside Target’s front entrance. I picked up one with Yoda on the front. A conversation bubble above his head said, “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”

I put it in my cart.

Yesterday I attended a cold wax workshop by Sara Post, a wonderful encaustic artist from Davis, CA. In addition to a demonstration on technique, she offered this advice: “If you’re going to do it, do it very.” Artists are always concerned about pushing too far and ruining a piece. I loved this advice.

This morning at my women’s Kaia workout, the message on the board said, “Committing to 99% is brutal; 100% is easier.” If you think 99% is a good enough goal for workout, nutrition, intentions, etc., then you’ve opened the door to eroding away your resolve. That makes it harder. I hadn’t thought of it that way before.

I subscribe to Seth Godin’s blog. Today his advice was that showing up isn’t enough. To paraphrase: “Your job is to surprise and delight and change the agenda, escalate, and reset expectations.”

How do all these signs relate to my writing?

My mystery novel is finished. It’s been revised, reviewed and polished. Of course, I could work on it forever, but that doesn’t get it out the door. I’ve been researching agents and sending out queries, but I’m still on the fence about whether self-publishing is a better way to go.

I think the universe is saying: Do it very. Give 100% and you will surprise and delight yourself.

Do you listen when the universe speaks to you?

Observation Day

Posted on January 22, 2013 by ltownsdin

It was a day to get out of my chair, out of my story, out of my house, and out of my town.

Mid-week San Francisco morning, I cut through hurrying crowds of people, chin tucked into my scarf against bitter chill winds whipping through the caverns of downtown high rises, and steered toward the Embarcadero. Once there, my cheeks rose to meet the sun and I unwound my knitted scarf.

I browsed in the Ferry Building shops until the heady mix of aromas—farmer’s market vegetables, designer olive oils and chocolate, coffee, delicate teas and Tasty Salted Pig Parts—drove me back out to the Embarcadero.

Tasty Salted Pig Parts

I set out with Piers and Bay on my right, street traffic on my left, the city in the background, and above that the hillside of stacked houses leading to Coit Tower.

Street musicians, chattering tour groups, tables of crocheted hats, jewelry and sunglasses caught in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t stop. Offered rides on gaudy bicycle carts, I declined, sailing along on my own two feet.

After walking a couple of miles, I stopped at Pier 45 and boarded a merchant marine ship built to take supplies to Allied fighting forces in World War II. It’s considered a National Historic Landmark.

Descending steep ladders to the bowels of the engine room and back up to the bow and gun stations, and ducking my head into compact crew cabins, I gained a sense of a different time and place and a healthy respect for the people who built this ship (mostly women), crossed the ocean in it and the fighting troops they served.

Deck of SS Jeremiah O’Brian, a WWII Merchant Marine vessel berthed at Pier 45.

It felt good to spend some time soaking up sights, sounds, sunshine and a little history on a Wednesday in San Francisco. I would sit at my desk in my house in my town and write again on Thursday.

Reading our Fears

Posted on January 9, 2013 by ltownsdin

How-to books, motivational gurus and courses proliferate telling us how to how to fight, control or eradicate fear, so imagine my delight when I watched this TED talk by Karen Walker Thompson about looking at our fears as stories we tell ourselves.

Who doesn’t love stories?

Thompson said we are the authors of our fears. She talked about fear “as an act of imagination,” and said fears are unintentional stories complete with plots, characters, images and suspense.

Fears fuel creativity and writers have always used fear as fodder for stories. Being human means dealing with fears on all levels all the time. Parents fear for the wellbeing of their children, most of us have money fears at one point in our lives. Even if we have plenty, we fear losing it. If we’re healthy, we fear sickness. Many of us fear death and some people even fear success.

Thompson also says we are the readers of our fears.

We use our imaginations to predict what could happen in our lives. Choosing the scariest scenario causes the biggest emotional wallop so that’s the one we fear will happen. That process enables writers to create believable situations based on real emotions.

Now I’m looking at fear in an entirely new light. Without my fears, I’d never be able to create the stories I write. Instead of being captive to my fears, I can consciously use them to my advantage. It feels like an epiphany.