Lara D. Elliott - Inspirations

Photo by Adrianna Calvo from Pexels Today someone confided in me how poor their mental health is. They were so amazingly brave, telling me the things they told me. Because of this bravery, I was able to get them to someone who has the expertise to help them. I am so honored that they trusted me. Though I have worries and struggles, I have a lot of things to be thankful for. Days like today remind me that I need to keep an eye on the bright side of things. But also to persevere when things are glum. I've survived depression. I know what it feels like living through the storm. But God gave us rainbows. Rainbows wouldn't be possible without rain. If you're feeling down, remember that your rainbow is waiting. But also, be brave. Ask someone for help if you need it. They can be your umbrella in the storm. Photo by Isabelle Taylor from Pexels When the storm is raging Be brave When the rain is pouring Be brave When the lightning strikes Be brave When t...

I had high hopes for this year's NaNoWriMo. That's National Novel Writing Month. Draft a novel (or at least 50,000 words of it) in the 30 days of November. But towards the end, I decided I needed to lose this year. A few years ago, I lost NaNoWriMo with a book about a crush. I didn't even get halfway through the 50k words needed to win. It took over six months to hit 50k. But the book meandered and really had no way to end properly. Over the next couple of years, I tried reworking the story with some beta reader feedback. I rewrote the beginning at least five times. But still, it wasn't coming together. This year, I decided I needed professional help and hired a writing coach (it was sort of by accident, but a happy accident). My coach helped me work on outlining a rewrite of the crush book. She helped me understand concepts like motivation and stakes and helped me define them in my outline. I wrote yet another first chapter and got her feedback and encouragement...

I haven't posted in a while, so here's a quick update on what's going on. I tried revising my novels. Several of them. Nothing was really feeling like "the one." I even tried going back to an old manuscript to transpose it from 3rd person to 1st. I stalled on all my attempts to do anything novel related. So I stopped. I read a book. And another. I took a break. I stayed active on Twitter in the writing community. I chatted with my critique group. I did some beta reading for a friend. I think it was the beginning of May that an announcement was made for a picture book mentorship contest. It had been a while since I'd worked on any picture books, but it sounded like a good opportunity. Maybe I could write some more picture book manuscripts so I had some to choose from if I wanted to apply. Holy cow was I in for a ride! Over the next few days I wrote four drafts of new picture books! I tried rhyming. I tried unconventional composition. I was on a roll! ...

It's amazing how one person's words, while positive in intent and directed at another, can cause hurt. Has this has happened to you? Someone else is praised for their outstanding work (and deservedly so) but it makes you feel lesser? This past weekend my work team put our "product" out in public. An outsider publicly gushed over the team leader (who really is amazing), but completely ignored the existence of the rest of the team. As one of the ignored ones, it hurt. And I shouldn't let it get to me, but it's bringing up old feelings of not being important and not being good enough. It's really affecting me more than I care to let on. I often feel this way in the writing world too. Another writer posts on social media about their success--they got an agent or won a contest or signed a book deal. And I'm over here jealous and feeling like I'll never be good enough. But I need to stop. That writer who scored the book deal took many years of hard...

I've been struggling for a while with my position in the writing world. When I first started writing novels, I found a contest run by a Christian writers organization. The fee to enter was cheaper for members, and it seemed like there were other benefits of membership, so I joined. I didn't place in the competition, but I learned a lot. I wrote my second novel for NaNoWriMo and then found critique groups in the Christian writers organization. The feedback on my work was both positive and constructive. I enjoyed swapping and giving my feedback to others on their work. Not only did I get to read other stories, but I practiced looking critically at what I was reading and saw ways to improve my own writing. But then we get to chapter eight. Spoiler alert: the main character has sex. Actually, that happened in chapter seven. I put a note in the email where I submitted the chapter for critique, warning potential readers that there was slightly sensitive material. Now, it didn...

NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Write a 50,000 word novel in the thirty days of November. And I won. Sorta. Last year's Nano project was started early too, but I only wrote a few thousand words in November. And then I kept writing for months. Over a year later, I finally had 50,000 words, but I was stumped on how to end it. After a couple critique partners read some chapters, I realized I had spent a year writing 50,000 words worth of crap. There were some good scenes in there. There was some good writing. But the plot lacked cohesion. Lacked motivation. I finally decided to give it up. Work on something else for a while. One project I started working on had actually started as a couple of scenes I jotted down many years ago. Even before I really became a serious "writer." I had an epiphany what direction I could take the story and I started outlining. It felt good to have some structure thought out. Then one day in October, I had a really crushing mom...

I'm in debate with a friend over whether it is therapeutic to write depressing fiction when one is depressed. Said friend had been writing a novel when she was depressed. The novel was going to end with the character's suicide. Friend has since gotten past the dark times and has abandoned the book. If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you may already know that I've been dealing with depression for the past year. I'm to the point where I'm considering going to the doctor about it. I've had a couple of tests for things that could be related to depression, but they have come back negative. Anyhoo, in the meantime I've taken to writing to deal with it. I've written blog posts, poetry, flash fiction, tweets. But just recently, I've started a novel. The novel reminded me of my friend's so I told her about it. She said stop. It's dangerous. But here's the thing. My novel doesn't end in suicide. My novel has a happy ending. M...

Wouldn't it be great to be happy all the time? I've fallen into the trap of comparing myself to someone. Someone who appears happy all the time. Not always smiles. Sometimes complaining. Sometimes frustrated. But never sad. Never depressed. I've been happy for the past month. Somewhat of a record in comparison to the past year. But today, one little thing set me on a downward spiral. Five minutes. Five measly minutes. In the grand scheme of things, five minutes is nothing. But today, five minutes put me into a sort of relapse. If only I had gotten ready faster this morning. If I hadn't hit snooze one more time. If my son would put his own freakin' shoes on. If I had eaten my breakfast in the car instead of at home. Five minutes was all I needed. Now I can't stop thinking about it. I made a mistake. A tiny mistake. But the impact was bigger. My reflection on what happened is bigger. Every depressing doubt about my life has invaded my brain again and won...

Have you ever been depressed? It's a hard topic. I have been debating writing this post for some time. Today I finally had the courage to write it. I felt compelled to. I will admit I have been depressed at times. I have been struggling with it a lot this year. Depression can come from a lot of places. For me it was feelings of inadequacy. Inadequacy in lots of different ways in lots of different parts of my life. Those feelings also spurred jealousy, anger, sadness, and a feeling of being overwhelmed. For me, depression feels like this weight pressing on my chest. I can’t take a full breath. My heart feels like it’s working extra hard to keep me alive. Depression doesn’t always show. A lot of times, I’m able to smile and act normal, carry on with business as usual. Temporary distractions can make me happy in the moment. The lesson in this is not to judge a book by its cover. You never know what someone is going through. I’ve never been clinically diagnosed with d...

Recently I had a bad week. I can't exactly express how bad it was without revealing everything that was wrong with it, but let's just say it sucked. I had an issue with my health. Bad. I had an issue with my job. Bad. I had an issue with my family. Bad. I was depressed. I was lonely. I was lost. I was angry. Part of me wanted to stay angry. Make a point. Show those causing stress in my life that they were destroying me. Get sympathy. I made a half-hearted prayer. "Lord, take my anger. Take my worry." I had obligations at work that I couldn't skip, though I sorely wanted to. Most inconvenient of all, I had a concert with my students. I had to stand up in front of hundreds of people and pretend that everything was okay. I dolled myself up then fought back tears as I drove to school. I hurried to be ready. I avoided talking to people as much as possible, merely answering questions and giving directions without chit-chatting. Finally, I crossed the front of ...

Have you heard the song " My   Story " by Big Daddy Weave? It has been  my  anthem this past year. The fall of 2015 was when I was called to write seriously. There was a period when I was questioning whether to put God in  my   stories . I pondered this often in the car while I listened to Christian radio. Every time I had the question in  my  heart, the song " My Story " came on which basically says "If I told you  my   story , I would tell of Jesus." God was answering  my  question. He wanted me to put Him in the  story .   Flash forward a year. This week has been trying. Lots of struggles in home life, work life, and writing life. I asked God for a song to be played on the radio to help me through ("Thy Will" by Hillary Scott). He didn't give it to me. On the verge of depression, I considered throwing in the towel with  my  writing. I have too much to learn to be good. I have too much else in  my ...

As a musician, I learned to seek perfection. One wrong note can ruin a performance, so musicians seek to perform with 100% accuracy. Not just good. Perfect. On the other hand, I have heard that perfection is an ever-receding goal. It's like chasing the horizon. So, I have ingrained in me a desire for perfection without the ability to reach it. What a bummer! I think we all have some sort of desire to be perfect. One of my "friends" online posted her before and after pics. She went from skinny to skinnier! Sheesh. If she can't be happy with her size 1 body, how can I be happy with my (much bigger) size? I hear teenagers talking all the time about how they're fat or ugly or dumb or untalented. In my writing life, I have surrounded myself with peers who are in the same endeavor--to write a great book. So many authors talk about how their work stinks! Even famous writers of books studied in English class have fallen into the belief of "my books are rubbish....

When she came to their school they noticed her. “You’re pretty,” the boys would say. “You’re hot,” the boys would say. They whistled as she walked through the cafeteria. When she stopped eating they didn’t stop.  “Nice rack,” the boys would say.  “Nice ass,” the boys would say. They touched her as they passed in the hallway.  When she cut herself they didn’t stop. “Why are you wearing long sleeves in the summer?” the boys would ask. “Show us some skin,” the boys would say. They attacked her in the parking lot. When she looked in the mirror she saw a monster. “I’m ugly,” she said to her reflection. “I’m nothing,” she said to the face staring back at her. She dressed to the nines and left. When the train blew its whistle she didn’t move. “This is the only way out,” she said. “This is the only way to end the pain,” she said. The whistle blew again. When her body was found it was a shock. “It’s a shame,” the policemen said. “She was so pretty,” ...