Risky Business

After hearing Jack Canfield for an hour and a half and being totally pumped up (wait- did Arnold say that first?), he talked about a really awesome book that he had to give away. He asked, "Who wants this book?" Of course everyone raised their hand. But one young man jumped up and ran to the podium and Jack handed it to him.

Lesson learned. Next time I will jump the seven or so rows, elbow and knee young children and the frail in the head. Dang! I should have acted faster. Actually, it seemed a bit staged to me, as in perhaps my friend Jack talked to the young man before the talk. (not as in, he brought his own people to give books away)

So, at the end of the magical evening, Jack said that he would sign books people had brought, have his photo taken or just shake your hand. He said he had all evening and didn't have anything to do until his 6am flight the next morning. Pretty cool!

Afterward, as he made his way to the book-signing table, he saw me. He kept following me around. I ducked into the bathroom and behind corners, but he was still there. My fans tend to be like that. Loyal to a fault. So finally I agreed to sign something for him (see photo), and then he was very happy.

OK...now the real story: I stood in line for a bit. When it was my turn I went forward with heart pounding. I told him that I would be published in one of his books in December. He asked me which one. Then I got super-duper brave, having just learned that very valuable lesson from his talk. I handed him one of my cards. On one side is my personal information and on the back I wrote the title of my book. I told him briefly about it and then he insisted we get our photo taken together so he could frame it and put it on his desk. OK...That's not true. Sheesh, I'm doin' a lot of lying lately. It was I who asked him for the photo and my 86-year-old father took the picture (see photo)...see, not quite so exciting to read, huh? Oh well.

So this is my last post about my new friend Jack and the real question is, will he remember me? Will anything come of my figurative jump over those seats? I don't know, but if it does-you'll be the first to know.

Karen

The Somebody of your Life

At my recent evening with Jack Canfield, he told a story that went something like this;

A couple walked the same route every day. And every day they passed a rose garden that hadn't had someone to tend to it in a very long time. It was dried up. And everyday as the couple walked by, one or the other commented on how someone (the city) should do something like that. And day after day, they walked past it.

Then one day when the woman said, for the umpteenth time, "Someone really should do something about that", her husband responded in a different manner than ever before."

"We're somebody." He said.

So the next day they began to tend to the ugly piece of land. They watered. They fertilized. They planted. And soon a beautiful rose garden emerged.

What or who is the somebody in your life?

Photo: Jack Canfield during power-point presentation (see the roses)

Karen

Why Ignorance is Good

Knowledge is good but sometimes so is ignorance. How many times have you thought of doing something but then remembered, or been told-that it's impossible, that the odds are stacked against you? A few months ago, I posted a question on a writer's site I frequent. In responding, someone told me how impossible it would be for me to publish my book. He said that 'even though you might think it's a great story, no one wants to read a story about you and your dad, no matter how poignant.' He went on to list the odds of ever making it in this tough line of work. He told about receptionists who stamp, "Rejection" on your manuscript without even passing it on to the editor. Basically, he was saying that I am foolish...perhaps even stupid for even dreaming such a dream. Was I discouraged? Sure I was. Who wouldn't be?

Recently I was honored to be able to attend an inspirational seminar by Jack Canfield. He told about a man named Cliff Young. Let me tell you the short version of the story.

Marathon runners are notorious for their training. And in Australia, the race to train for is the 875 kilometer endurance race from Sydney to Menbourne. It is the worlds longest and toughest ultra-marathon. Enter Cliff Young.

Cliff showed up on race day and signed up for the run. He stood next to runners sponsored by big names like Nike. Most were under 30-years old and equipped with the most expensive outfits. Cliff stood next to them at the starting gate; his attire...OshKosh overalls, and galoshes over his work boots, in case it rained.

Cliff, at 61-years old, had never trained for a marathon. He'd barely heard of one. When a reporter asked him just what made him think he could run a marathon, he explained that he was a farmer. "...we couldn't afford horses or four wheel drives, adn the whole time I was growing up...whenever the srorms would roll in, I'd have to go out and round up the sheep. We had 2,000 head and we have 2,000 acres. Sometimes I would have to run those sheep for two or three days. It took a long time, but I'd catch them. I believe I can run this race; it's only two more days. Five days. I've run sheep for three."

Every professional athlete knew that it takes 5 days to run the race, and that you would need to run 18 hours a day and sleep 6 hours. But that was every "professional" athlete. Cliff did not know this. So while the other athletes slept, Cliff shuffled on. During the race, someone asked him what his tactics would be for the rest of the race. He said he would run until he finished it.

And that is what he did. Every night he got a little closer to the lead. By the last night, he passed the world-class athletes. And by the last day, he was way out in front of them. Not only did he finish the race, he won first place, beating the record by nine hours. What was going through is mind as he ran? Sheep. But he wasn't counting them...he was chasing them, imagining he was trying to outrun a storm.

I've read that only 10% of freelancers actually make a living at it. Why not me? The stats are even more grim for getting a book published. Why not me? In fact...why not you? There will always be people who are quick and even anxious to tell you you can't succeed (like my discourager on the writer's forum). And there are always statistics to back up their opinion. So what? Who cares? Does anyone know you better than you do? Does anyone know your drive and your determination?

Cliff pictured going out to rescue his sheep during a storm. Every minute of every hour, of everyday, he kept that image in his mind. Slowly, methodically...he kept going. What is that mental image for you? What is your biggest, boldest and brightest dream? What do you want that you are afraid to even voice? Get that image in your mind. If you need to, draw a picture of it and put it on every surface of your home. Cut an image from a magazine, or write the words with magic markers. Do whatever it takes to keep your dream constantly before your eyes. With that powerful mental image, you can do anything. Anything!

Write Now...because it IS later than you think.

photos: Cliff Young

Karen

What a Night!

Jack Canfield, co-creator of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, visited last night. Well, not me personally, but our town. The evening started as I picked up my parents and then a special guest. Her name is Shirley and she was the first and only person to recognize that perhaps I had a bit-o-talent for this writing thing.

I was in High School and she was a member of our church and a friend of my mothers. She'd heard about this "little" contest for high school students. It was the Guideposts Youth Writing Contest. I told her about a little boy who I loved, and had just died. His name was Tyson and he was severely disabled. With her encouragement and help I wrote the story up and sent it in. My hope was to win one of the brand new typewriters that would be given to the lowest placing "winners." I know...I know...I set my goals high (hahaha). But I didn't win...that.

I won fifth place and a $2000 college scholarship instead. Editor Van Varner came to our town. My picture was in the paper. It was very exciting.

What's interesting is that in all of my time in school, no one...not one teacher encouraged me to write. I wrote reams and reams of poetry. I wrote all the time. I was terribly romantic, taking my pad of paper- and writing under a tree at the park, or on a bench by the duck pond. I just loved it. And, being a former teacher, I hate to bash the schools, but I still do not see that kids are encouraged to write freely. They are taught what a noun and what a verb is and lots of rules, but not to really express themselves through the written word. OK...jumping off my soapbox now.

So anyway- it was so exciting to go to this event with my hero, Shirley. Shirley is a fabulous writer. She's been published numerous times and is a true writer. "I can't-not write." She said as we sat in the grand auditorium. She took notes, as I did while Jack spoke (yeah-we're on a first name basis). Sitting next to my mentor, at this very special event was a dream. Thanks Shirley!

For the next few days I will be sharing inspiration and encouragement from my night with Jack, as well as a few more photos. So come on back.

photo: Shirley and I outside Cordiner Hall

Write Now - Karen