Guest Blogger - Tamara Passey

Tamara is one of many who submitted her blog post for review by MMW. She's in hopes of becoming a full time member of our blog so I thought I would share her story with everyone. We have so many great applicants, the decision is going to be extremely hard to make. You can check out Tamara's blog HERE.

We welcome your comments.

Thanks again for your interest, Tamara. And GOOD LUCK!!!
~Christine

A Little About Tamara:
I was born and raised in Massachusetts - I know, gesundheit! Dropped the Boston accent after a six year stint in Utah. It was either that or hire a translator to enunciate my r's and explain when I said wicked, I meant it in a good way. I currently live in Arizona with my adoring husband and three children (he said I could say that.) I've written poetry for years and have won a few awards. My sister says I should tell people I'm an award-winning poet, but I don't think I can handle that kind of pressure. I've been working on my first full-length novel, The Keeper, and won third place for General Fiction in the First Chapter contest at the LDStorymaker's Conference, 2010. I think someone should have warned those judges how risky it would be to encourage my ramblings!

A Funny Thing Happened . . .

. . .on the way home from cake class. I forgot to secure the cake. Maybe it was late, maybe I was in a hurry to get home. Maybe I wasn’t thinking about the large chunk of my life I’d already spent mixing, baking and icing this cake. Could I have forgotten the two plus hours I had just spent learning how to make it look like a bakery shelf showpiece? Evidently yes.

It happened at the first stoplight; I was in the car five minutes or less. I stopped and the cake slid easily off its ridiculously precarious perch, flipped over and landed near my feet. Really, what was I thinking?

I got home, surveyed the damage and consoled myself, “this was a practice cake.” I felt deflated anyway–all that learning & practice --and for what?

The resident teenager arrived on the scene and quickly pointed out my cake didn’t look so good, but followed that keen observation with a worried, “Is it still okay to eat?”
Deflated me, “Of course.”
Hollow-leg teenager, “Now?”
Me, “Oh, why not – just take a picture first.”
Confused teenager laughing, “Are you sure you want to document this?”

Yes. Disfigured as it was, I wanted to remember my cake and the new lesson I was reluctantly learning from it.

I thought of my writing efforts and current work in progress (for the record – I don’t try to compare everything in life to writing, my brain appears to do it for me automatically!) and realized the same kind of thing could happen. I could spend hours, days and okay, years working on a project and it could fall flat on its face. I don’t like to contemplate such anxiety-inducing images, but a funny thing happens when I accept the worst possible outcome. I decide it is worth it – the work, effort and risk –are all worth it. For the process, for what I learn, for what I gain. If I have a finished product that looks like a showpiece, I won’t complain, but I’ll remember it’s the creativity that brings joy.

I’ll also remember –if I ever take a field trip with my manuscript – that little bundle of joy will be securely fastened by a seatbelt!