Strengths

A few weeks ago I took one of those assessments that are meant to uncover your strengths. It was a bunch of questions that asked me how likely I was to do one thing or another. It took about fifteen minutes and was pretty easy. I had done similar exercises before and was candid in my responses, wondering if I would learn something different about myself that I hadn't already learned. 

The chances of another person having my strengths in the same order as me is one in 33 million. In case you fall in those odds, the descriptions are as follows:

1. Input: Have a craving to know more; like to collect and archive all kinds of information
2. Intellection: Characterized by their intellectual activity and are retrospective and appreciate intellectual conversation
3. Futuristic: Inspired by the future and what could be; energize others with their vision of the future
4. Ideation: Fascinated by ideas and able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena
5. Strategic: Create alternative ways to proceed; can quickly spot the relevant patterns and issues

These strengths were not a surprise. In the grand scheme of things, some themes emerged that made total sense. One theme that stood out among the descriptions of these strengths was efficient. 

Having led nonprofits where my actual title should have been, Boss of Making Things Happen on a Zero Budget, I constantly question whether how things are being done is truly the best way to do them. That sometimes comes across as challenging others or bossy but that is not the intent. I like to know that whatever I am doing is the best possible way to do it. I hate to know that resources, time, energy or money are being wasted. That is probably why I can never imagine myself working in politics or government.  

I am learning how to apply that efficiency in my writing. With my latest manuscript, I have asked whether or not a character is necessary. Can another one carry out his purpose? Is it worth having another backstory to contend with or can I move the plot along and develop the characters without him? I also ask that about words. I tend to get wordy in my descriptions or backstories and have to comb through scenes asking whether everything is necessary. I have to remind myself to trust my reader and allow them to insert their own lives into the narrative. As I've blogged before, that is an area of on-going struggle for me.

The craving to know more and archive information has been valuable in writing. I store bits of information here and there for stories. Sometimes it makes it in a scene, other times my understanding of something allows me to create a more complete picture. When I wrote about MMA I read books about the sport, but also manuals about how the moves are done, in what order they work best and why certain body types are better at certain moves. I even researched the associated injuries and what the long-term effects could be. I wasn't surprised I scored high in this area, although I am not as good as by BF at memorizing random trivia. I collect a lot of information when needed, but my storage isn't what it could be. 

In my professional life, I am known as the person who questions everything. I have no qualms about challenging someone, especially when they tell me the reason for something is because it has always been done that way. You might as well taunt me with a red flag because I jump on that as a reason to find another way to achieve the same goal. It has led to co-workers feeling intimidated by me and superiors questioning whether or not I want to be a team player. I want to be a team player for sure but I do not want to be on a mediocre team. At the end of the day I have learned to hone this in with various approaches so I don't come on too strong and try to remember to assure others that my objective is not to step on toes or be a pain in the ass, but rather it is based on productivity.

When it comes to challenging the status quo, I'm your girl. When it comes to challenging my characters...that's not my greatest strength. I love them and want to be nice to them. I want them to come out ahead but it makes for a boring story to always be nice to them. Some of my beta readers find it hard to believe that it's difficult for me to be mean to my characters because they are beaten, abused, mangled and hurt. They lose loved ones and live hard lives and none of that is easy to write. But, at the end of the day, it is still their story and I have to get past my instinct to protect them and give them the opportunity to be brave, strong and fierce.

The other theme that emerged was forward-thinking. I think anyone with anxiety is futuristic. We ponder and worry about what has yet to happen all the time. However, when writing, that is when I can have a little fun controlling my character's destinies. I like to have control in real life, too but reality doesn't always cooperate so creating a world where I am the ringmaster is ideal. It is also therapeutic. With words, I can be the master of my fate. Sometimes as I work through fictional scenarios I subconsciously process my reality. This has been a gift at times and also a curse when my own writing has been a trigger for feelings I thought had been dealt with already.

Moving forward I hope to continue to remind myself of these strengths as I look for others. Over time as life teaches me more lessons I am sure the list will change and I will gain new perspectives. That is the most exciting part.

Being a Storyteller

A few weeks ago I got an email from a local reporter asking if I'd be interested in sharing my story as a widow who had found love again. She had heard about me from someone in the community and wanted to know more about me. 

I gave her my story in four points:

• I loved Warren
• Warren died
• I thought love would never happen again
• Thanks to Tinder, I was wrong

She was intrigued and we spoke in more detail for a while. She said several other people had been recommended and that after she heard their stories she would get back to me. I didn't give it much thought and one day I got an email from her saying that I, along with five others, had been selected to be part of the line-up to tell stories related to New Beginnings, the theme for their event.

These events had been happening all over the city for at least a year but I had never attended. I didn't really know what to expect but I speak publically all the time so I was excited to get another chance to do so. Then she told me that this would be different. It would have to be a personal story that hadn't been shared before. Also, it wouldn't be a presentation - no podium or slideshow to guide me. I couldn't even use notes. I had to tell a personal story. 

I paused. While I write stories all the time, what she wanted was way more intimate. I would be telling a room full of strangers about something I hadn't told many people I was close to. Telling a story is way different than writing one. There would be no delete button if I screwed it up. Once I said something, it would be out there and open for immediate interpretation. While I could pre-write it and try to memorize it, the project was about connecting through stories. I didn't want to sound like I was reciting a memorized verse. Telling a story is a gift you give to the listener. It is about them more than the teller. 

As a storyteller, my job was to bring the listener into a world I knew and allow them to navigate it however they chose. Some people would be able to relate, others would try to do so and to others, it might be a trigger. Writing can do the same thing but as the writer, I don't see and cannot react to the reader. This would be different. I would stand on a stage, deliver a story from my heart and absorb the audience's response. To complicate matters, the venue was the same place where Warren proposed.

By the time I learned that little fact I had already agreed to the event and it added an extra layer of worry. Would I be able to stand in that place where I had once felt elation and excitement and tell of the pain of losing what had been envisioned when I said yes to his proposal? How was I supposed to stand in that space again and talk about loving another man? My stomach locked every time I thought about it and there were times when I started to email the reporter to tell her that perhaps I should wait until another time, at another venue to share that story. 

It took many internal conversations and self-motivation to decide that I would not back down. I wanted to tell my story. I felt like it needed to be told. This voice inside my head reminded me that I was not the kind of woman who backed down from challenges. If I could plan Warren's funeral, I could honor him in this story. He is the reason I can love as I do and the story would center on that. I made it my goal to highlight hope, not loss.

As the weeks went by I wrote and re-wrote my story. I even told it to Warren one night as I looked at his photo and practiced. Looking at him while I told the story helped solidify that it wasn't a story about replacing his love. It was a story about continuing his legacy of love. Had he and I not loved one another as we did, my story would not be possible. It was that same love that drew my BF into my life and brought us closer. Thankfully, my BF had sensed this early into our relationship and the way he continues to honor that love and be grateful for it allowed me to tell a story that had multiple layers but at its core, was about how I was loved and how that love allowed me to love again.

Courtesy of Des Moines Register

Just before the host introduced me, I thought I would pass out. I took a breath and calmed myself down. When I walked on the stage my heart raced. I felt the lump form in my throat within the first minute of speaking. My family and best friend were there and I could feel their support. And of course, my new love was there. His presence helped push the lump aside and gave me the courage to tell the story. We took a chance on each other and opened up to what could be. That wasn't easy for either of us and I am proud of our courage. I wanted a story about hope, and when I think of us, I feel that. Our story has just as much weight as what I had. Telling that story was a gift to him and what we shared, just as Warren had given me a gift on that same stage thirteen years earlier. 

I got through the story and when I was done there was an intermission where I got to take a breath and calm my nerves. During that time I got a lot of accolades. People told me how much they related to the story and I was happy it resonated with the audience. Widows came up to me and thanked me for telling their story and shared how they had found love again. I was honored they shared their stories with me. One widow told me I was brave and I told her that she was, too. When the crowd had moved on to drinks and bathroom breaks I got the greatest kudos of all. My boyfriend's eyes were moist and filled with emotion. In his embrace the last of the nerves melted away and my heart found its normal rhythm. I knew he had received the gift.

Listen to the story here.