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Robyn Nyx

Words for Women who Love Women

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Tempus fugit…

Time. It’s a cruel mistress. There’s simply never enough of it. And how do you “make time?” There’s no actual recipe to bake days and weeks. There always seems to be more to do than the time you have to do it in.

Inevitably, things fall by the wayside. Jobs are put off. Deadlines are missed. Stress ensues. And people have advice, so much advice, on time management. “This is what I’d do,” “Have you tried..?” and “It’s easy to find excuses.” 

We have to decide on the important things. The “must do’s” and the “can’t nots.” And they’re different for everyone, and as individual as fingerprints. As I’ve gotten older, my priorities have changed. In a relatively new relationship, my focus is different. Things that were important in my thirties are no longer so. Things I neglected in my twenties now take priority. 

Balance. Priorities. Perspective. They all change over…time. The facts remain: it’s your life, and your time. There are no replays and no second chances. They’ll be your regrets and your satisfactions too. No one else’s.

Enjoy. Revel. Cherish. Relax. 

Work well. Work fast. Play hard. Play hardest. 

Kickback. Push forward. Stay centered.

Watch life. Live life. Taste life. Be life.

But don’t squander it on the inconsequential nonsense. Or do. Because it’s yours, and it’s up to you.

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Rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac…

So sang Madonna. Is she right? As a writer, rejection comes with the territory. Look at J K Rowling: it took over ten years before she was finally accepted for publication (and even then, only when she dropped the gender specific name and went with initials…). Her crime fiction was floundering until it was revealed she was writing it.

It’s easy to think that once you get a publishing contract, you’ve made it. You’re a published author and no longer “just” a writer. But there are still rejections. Plenty of them. The trick is how you react to them. I’ve made my latest rejection into something positive: free fiction! I submitted the story “Heart Halfway Gone” to a romance call anthology. I think maybe I don’t actually write romance. It doesn’t seem to come as naturally on the page as it does in real life. Anyhoo, rather than just dropping it as a PDF, I had some creative fun with it…designed a proper cover, created MOBI and ePub files, and a proper PDF with the cover design. I had a great time, and the pain that comes with rejection dissipated. My website stats boomed, and people got some free fiction that hopefully, they enjoyed.

My point? Never lose hope. You write because you have to; because you want to; because you love to. Not because you want to be published (although that is one hell of a ride). Write what you love, and some people will love what you write. Rejection might not be the greatest aphrodisiac, but it steels the soul and strengthens the heart.

Stick with it. Writing is for love, not for money or accolades.

heart-halfway-gone_final

Heart Halfway Gone (mobi for Kindle)

Heart Halfway Gone (ePub for other eReaders)

Wedding vows: Finding the Words

Back in June, on my lady’s fortieth birthday, I proposed as the sun rose on a Miami beach. We’re now busy saving for our honeymoon in Hawaii, so our wedding is a few years away yet. But yesterday I read a blog by the wife of Neil Gaiman, and she mentioned she’d long ago forgotten their wedding vows.

It got me thinking about what I want to say on the day. We’re both authors and play with words daily. They’re important to us; they’re what brought us together; and we both have symbols of those words in tattoo and jewellery form. The vows I want to write have to be something unique and special. They have to describe the pure light and joy I feel when I’m with her. They have to tell her how I’ll never let go; that I cherish each waking second I spend with her; and how I’m finally at peace with my own sense of self because of her. These are words are I say daily. And on days of gentle surrender, when the tar of her depression deigns to recede just enough, she hears me.

I’m lucky enough not to suffer from depression, and I cannot begin to fathom the depth of the pits of despair into which it drags its victims. But I do know that words help. They may be the same words, the same phrasing, repeated over and over, but their value is infinite. Because eventually, and occasionally, they’re heard.

I haven’t written my vows yet, but when I do, I’ll write ones I hope she hears, feels, and remembers forever.

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