Trouble in Paradise

It's been a while since I've posted on the blog.

Most probably assume that I've been busy. I have been. I'm not going to lie. I'm a stay at home mom with three kids, a dog that doubles as a pony and I deliver early morning paper routes. I'm also the go-to babysitter for all of my friends. I've started a book club in my area, I'm trying to plan a girls night dinner for my friends and I volunteer regularly at my kids school.

It's not why I haven't posted.

The last time my turn came up, I didn't know what to write.

No. Let's be honest. I was afraid to write. Afraid to the point it slipped away.

I want to be honest with you on where I'm at. The last two years have been hard. I signed with an agent. I started editing. I did more editing. I found a second manuscript with a small press that I'd forgotten about and informed my agent. We started editing the second ms, pushing the first aside. I continued to edit. I've been editing for the last two years. It's been a never-ending circle of re-reading the same two manuscripts over and over. To the point of frustration. To the point I don't want to write anymore.

The feedback is always the same. This isn't right, it isn't getting better. Read this. It will help.

Your relationship with your agent should be a working partnership. A give and take where you both discuss and understand your goals, and where you want to be. It should be somewhat of a friendship. You should feel like you're able to talk to your agent. Shoot them an email with concerns, let them know when you disagree with a decision that both of you are making about your work. If your agent isn't allowing you to talk to them, or listening to you when you do talk, it's time to re-evaluate the relationship.

Deciding whether or not an agent is right for you is hard. It feels like that agent may be your only chance. So you don't speak up. You don't voice your opinion. You don't want to offend your agent. While you're watching your career spiral into nowhere, you're losing your voice because you're afraid to use it in the first place.

Don't be.

Stand up for yourself. It's easy to get in a circle that goes nowhere. Because this is your only chance. Only, it's not. There are plenty of agents out there. There is one that will treat you with respect and listen to your opinions, wants and needs. They won't hold onto you out of pity. They'll guide you through every decision and push you to be the best. They'll become a friend as much as they are your agent, because guess what? Their career rides just as much on you as yours does on them.

Don't get sucked into the void. Don't be sucked in by the right words. It's hard. Some agents are smooth talkers. They know what needs to be said to get the deal. Sometimes those words don't amount to anything but empty words. Sometimes an agent seems right from the get-go, but you just don't mesh. You have nothing in common. It happens. Don't be afraid to voice how you feel.

It's difficult. I know. If you're anything like me, you feel guilty. Guilty for the work put in, guilty because you feel the way you do, worried you'll offend, but it's your career. It's your work. And if the person promising to help you to the best of their ability isn't, you need to step back. Take a hard, long look at where you are and what you want. They'll understand. Talk to them. Resolve the issue before it gets so out of hand you don't want to follow your dreams anymore.

Becasuse there is someone out there who wants you just the way you are.

The Gifts We Lay

This article originally appeared five years ago on my personal blog. I hope you enjoy.

"Last year I picked up a $5 Christmas CD while shopping at Kohl's. The proceeds went to charity and I needed some new tunes. Last week I finally listened to it.

First time through, I was a mite annoyed. The songs were different.

Second time through, I recognized voices.

The third time, I listened with a different ear. Turns out, it's a fabulous rock/bluesy Christmas CD, the perfect addition to my library.

Track one is my favorite: Rob Thomas singing "A New York City Christmas'. Every word is poignant. Each note, pleading.



His words stopped me. They made me wonder.

"...Yeah I'm sending you a Merry New York Christmas
And a prayer for peace on earth
Within our time
Oh, the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah
And we understand them
Now more than ever..."

And we understand them? Really? I never stopped to do that. I never tried to understand them. Not the sidewalk angels. Nor the others, either.

I remember feeling unsafe in the days following 9/11. More than once, I imagined myself cowering in a closet, bombs exploding in my back yard, the 'enemy' advancing on my neighborhood. I felt what that must feel like. What too many feel every day.

Awful, awful, awful.

Now, digging deep, I find a memory and dust it off. It's 1970. I'm in 7th grade. The teacher closes the blinds and hushes a darkened room full of expectant pre and barely-teens. Then the whirring begins as the 8mm film threads itself. Suddenly Stalin's armies burst on scene. Bombing Poland.

In black and white the shells whistled. Buildings exploded. Unceasing. Relentless. Panzers rolling in to cities reduced to rubble, residents surely shaking in their shoes. If they had any left after the long, cruel 2nd world war.

It was supposed to be over. Their side, our side, had won. So why didn't the allied forces stop Stalin?

No one came. Not the English. Not the Americans. In spite of Poland's repeated and frenzied cries for help, the great nations looked away. Broken and battered, the Poles caved and Stalin installed a communist government in Warsaw. Wasn't that what our forebears had been fighting against all along?

I cried angry tears. Tears of anguish. Tears of shame. I was thirteen. Like the Poles I couldn't fathom why my country didn't help them. Then time marched on and I forgot what I didn't understand.

Fast forward forty years to 2010. To me, listening to Rob Thomas's Christmas song.

"...Call on your angels
Come down to the city
Crowd around the big tree
All you strangers who know me
Bring your compassion
Your understanding
Lord how we need it
On this New York City Christmas..."

Call me slow. But happy Christmas. I finally understand.

"...So call on your angels
Your beaten and broken
It's time that we mend them
So they don't fade with the season
Let our mercy be the gifts we lay
From Brooklyn to Broadway
And celebrate each and every day
This New York City Christmas."

My wish this holiday season
Is that we all find understanding.

That compassion guide us.

And that mercy be the gifts we lay.

Hallelujah.

~ Olivia J. Herrell

**Disclaimer: I am no expert on foreign affairs, or world wars, or he said/she said. I'm just reporting my own experience. No more. Unfortunately, the war continues and Syria is our new Poland.**

Rob Thomas video courtesy of youtube.com. Lyrics courtesy of lyrics007.com. Polish memory jogger courtesy of Wikipedia."

Entire article courtesy of Olivia J. Herrell, That Rebel with a Blog.