It’s a beautiful early July morning, and only two days before we’ll celebrate the Fourth of July here in the United States. For me, this morning feels like the calm both before and after the storm. Like many parts of this country, we’ve faced tricky weather around here lately, with more than enough rain and nearly constant wind. The trees surrounding our cabin have taken a beating, starting with a winter ice storm from which they have yet to recover. Last night, I sat writing in our sunroom, enjoying the fresh scent of rain through a barely open window while lost in a story I’m working feverishly to finish. The sound of rain lulling me into that always sought after but too often elusive state of mind where the words flow freely from my mind through my fingers wasn’t the real-life shower falling just beyond the windows, but the meditative sound track playing through my noise canceling headphones. I’ve listened to that same track while writing all twelve of my books to date. I only mention the headphones because—lost as I was in the fictional world I’ve devised through my imagination—I didn’t even hear the racket when something came crashing down in the real world. A huge branch fell, mere feet from the corner of the room where I sat writing. My daughter had to alert me to the near miss; shocked that I could be so oblivious to my surroundings. How often do we miss what’s going on around us while lost in our own thoughts? Today, when I woke to a clear sky and a calm breeze, I decided it was the perfect morning for a peaceful cup of coffee on the dock. We expect another storm around here tomorrow, but it won’t be a weather event (I hope). The rest of our family will arrive for a few days of fun camaraderie, good food, and hopefully a campfire complete with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. But I have more words to write, a menu to figure out, and groceries to buy before the festivities can begin. This is the lull before my next storm. Beyond the scope of our planned family activities, there are plenty of other storms brewing. It’s all enough to threaten a person’s peace of mind, yet it’s important for us to deal with the tension we feel. As I gathered my fresh cup of coffee and a notebook to jot down pointers for the chapters I plan to write today, I headed outside and down the steps toward the shoreline, only to pull up short at the odd tilt to my battered copper pot. I usually plant flowers in it each summer. This year, all that’s growing in it is regrowth from last year because my flower planting was pretty sparse. Yesterday, I’d admired the way nature had stepped in where I’d failed to act, and I swear that pot was still upright. This morning, the base on which it’s anchored is crumbling, and the whole thing is at risk of collapse. I’ll have to move the pot, because my goal is to plant many more years’ worth of flowers in it in the future. Then, as I approached the dock itself, I was surprised to see that one of the supports my hubby had just placed a few days ago had already tipped over. The waves churned up in the stormy weather yesterday were probably the culprits. I had to decide whether to kick off my slides and venture into the water so I could re-brace the end of the dock. Stepping onto the unsupported dock wasn’t an option, as I might have damaged the frame. Fine. While I hadn’t planned to get my feet wet at 6:45 in the morning, sometimes we have to do what it takes when tiny impediments stand in the way of our goals. Off came my slides and I dipped my toes into the water, delighted when the temperature was pleasant instead of jarring. Then the shale beneath my feet gave way, and I had to fight to keep my balance lest I end up with muddy shale on the seat of my sweatpants, or tumble into the water. Unbeknownst to me, there may have been a witness to my stumbling. Do you see the swirl right next to the dock? But I’m not worried. Fish will keep our secrets. Once the concrete block was back in place, I realized things had shifted enough that the dock ramp no longer touched it. But it would at least be there if the ramp dipped under my weight, so I held my breath and eased my way out onto the dock. I needed those quiet few minutes to enjoy my fresh coffee and contemplate the state of the world around me. No one else was around, but I wasn’t alone. A large pelican, barely visible in the photo’s background below, bobbed on the gentle swells of the lake. He came no closer to me, but my presence didn’t disturb him enough to force him to leave, either. A second pelican swooped overhead, choosing not to land in our bay. I probably scared him off. Then a head popped out of the water, and I could see a small stick protruding from the little guy’s mouth. A beaver maybe? Whatever it was, it swam toward shore, but before I could turn my phone camera back on, it ducked below the surface again, still there but now out of sight.
I glimpsed the sleek spine of a fish, skimming right below the surface of the water, much closer to our dock. By the time my coffee had cooled, the wind was picking up again and I could hear a dog barking from our cabin. She didn’t appreciate being left inside. My reprieve was over, yet those few minutes brought important things to mind.
We live in a great country, and I feel blessed to be planning a celebration of it for our family and friends, even though I dread that trip to the grocery store. I hope we can all take a few minutes in the days ahead to remind ourselves of how we might work together to strengthen this nation, instead of focusing on our differences or trying to gain power over others. Because just like that crumbling tree stump and unstable shale shoreline I encountered this morning, it doesn’t take much to tip things over. I hope you have the chance to enjoy a favorite food in the days ahead; to laugh with someone special; or to toss a beanbag in a friendly game under a warm sun while standing on a grassy, stable surface. We should never forget how lucky we are to live here, nor can we afford to take our blessings for granted. Happy Fourth of July! Celebrating alongside you, Kim
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Many of our most helpful mentors may never even learn our names. My ideal mornings kick off with pen, paper, and a book. The paper is in my gratitude journal and the pen captures one page of reflections on things I’m blessed to have in my life. The books are non-fiction and touch on things I want to learn more about. I don’t binge read these like I do with fiction. Sometimes I’ll only have ten minutes to read, but eventually, over days and weeks, I finish the books at a pace that allows for contemplation and learning. This morning, I finished reading “Pilgrimage—Lessons learned from solo walking three ancient ways” by J.F. Penn. The author, Joanna Penn, is a mentor to me, although we’ve never met. This award-winning book captured her solo walking of the Pilgrims’ Way, the St Cuthbert’s Way, and the Camino de Santiago Portuguese Route. Besides her fiction and non-fiction books, Joanna is the creator and host of a podcast named “The Creative Penn Podcast”. I discovered her weekly show in about 2016, when first considering self-publishing. Like my gratitude and morning reading, her podcast is a regular part of my routine. No one has taught me more about the world of publishing than Joanna Penn. I’d never thought much about pilgrimages before reading her book, and had only ever heard of the Camino. I bought the book to support Joanna. She’d talked about these three long solo walks, before and after she went on each one during 2020 through 2022, as well as her desire to capture her experiences in a book. Once she’s written her words, she trys new ways of turning those words into beautiful books. She generously invites her listeners along during her projects, and we all learn. Joanna keeps her eyes on the future and an optimistic approach to experimenting with new tools as they emerge in the self-publishing world and beyond, instead of fretting over what many perceive as threats to the industry. She helps me feel excited about the endless possibilities, too. Why am I sharing this with you? A book about pilgrimages might seem niche on the surface, appealing to a narrow band of readers. But “Pilgrimage” is about so much more than long, painful walks and blisters. While Joanna piqued my interest about a pilgrimage of my own someday, her honest and relatable reflections on the emotional challenges like growing older and menopause, the world locking down in mid-2020, and a lengthy recovery from COVID, all gave the story a depth I wasn’t expecting. Colored photographs throughout her book give glimpses into the beauty and history she encountered along the way. Joanna skillfully weaves both the practical with the thought-provoking. Joanna launched “Pilgrimage” using a Kickstarter campaign. The pretty hardback version I ordered has quality paper and a foil-stamped cover under the dust jacket. Book Vault, the printer she used, is working hard to make special touches such as sprayed edges and beautiful end-papers available to the print-on-demand market. I love gorgeous, vintage books with these types of features, and I can’t wait to experiment with some of them in my own products. I’m interested in publishing. Joanna generously shares her hard-earned wisdom on the topic with me and thousands of other hungry writers consistently, year in and year out. I benefit from lots of the free content she shares, but I also support her financially through her Patreon account and her Kickstarter campaigns. This is how Joanna earns her living, and my career benefits from her efforts. We both win. Joanna lives in England. I live in the United States. Our paths may never cross, but I hope to have the chance to thank her in person someday for all she’s done for me. While the online world can be rife with negativity, the work of kind, generous people like Joanna, who can literally change your life for the better, hang out there, too. Seek out the people who add richness to your life and do your best to ignore the noise. What type of things would you like to learn more about? With a little investigative work, I suspect you’ll also be able to find helpful souls out there who can take your hand and open up a whole new world for you, even if you only ever join their circle from afar. If you are interested in checking out “Pilgrimage” or any of Joanna’s other books, here is a link to her online store. Her books are also available on other online vendor platforms. Always cheering you on, Kimberly
Have you ever written a letter to your future self? Trust me when I tell you it can be fun, and February 29th is the perfect day to pull out paper and pen. Write it today and open it on 2/29/28. Because even though we often forget, every single one of us is solely responsible for writing the next chapters of our own lives. Sure, life will throw us curve balls, but how we respond and where we place our daily focus will ultimately shape our journey. Why do I think writing a letter to your future self can be both fun and helpful? Because I’ve tried it. On the front end, as you decide what to write, you get to dust off your dreams. To really think about what you’d love your life to look like over the next four years. Then you can seal up the envelope, stick it on a shelf, and go about your day. When Leap Day rolls around next time, pulling out those handwritten sheets will feel like an intimate visit from your younger self. An eight year old letter is even more fun to read through. On the morning of February 29, 2016, I sat at a crowded conference table in the basement of a high-rise office building in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was working with yet another new team and it was my first time meeting most of them. With twenty-five years of experience in corporate America, I could play the part, but I didn’t want to be there. I braced myself for a long day of dry discussions. But the executive running the show that day kicked us off with a surprising exercise. He gave each of us three sheets of paper and an envelope, along with a challenge to write our future selves a letter. After the allotted time, he’d collect our sealed envelopes, hold on to them for four years, then return them to each of us on February 29, 2020. What a refreshing way to kick things off! At least I thought so, but I heard a few groans, too. I took the assignment seriously, banging out three full pages of handwritten notes to myself. The only rule I broke was around turning in the letter. I’d been around tables like this for long enough to suspect our “world” would probably look very different after another four years, and the likelihood of that envelope finding its way back to me was slim. Instead, I slipped it in my briefcase and brought it home. It’s always best to control our own destiny! A Leap Day Letter is for your eyes only. But today I’m going to take a leap of faith (sorry, I couldn’t resist) and share with you the nine items I wrote on that long ago day, and how things are turning out, eight years later. Remember, I had to write these out quickly, without time to prepare, but I suspect most are quite relatable.
Today, my life bears little resemblance to the one I was living as I sat around that conference table in 2016. I’m now 57 instead of 49. Time has a funny way of slipping away. My work is so much more creative now than it was back then. My days are my own. Some old problems have fallen away, while new ones have cropped up. That is what it means to be alive. Overall, I’m happy with the progress I’ve made over the past eight years. Did that letter I dashed off to myself on 2/29/16 make any difference? I like to think so. There is always a benefit to pausing and thinking about what you want next in your life. Did I write a letter to myself on 2/29/20? I thought so, but I can’t find it. Maybe I wrote it while at my desk in my old office building. Things were getting a little scary right then, and within a couple of weeks, we were all sent home to work. Perhaps the letter got lost in the shuffle. I never went back to that desk. I worked from home until I quit in October 2021. Maybe I’ll find the letter from 2020 someday, tucked away in a drawer. It doesn’t matter. What matters most is that today I’ll pull out three fresh pieces of paper and write myself a new letter to open on 2/29/28. I have so many more dreams to pursue and I never want to stop growing or learning.
I encourage you to find ten minutes today to do the same. Your future self will thank you! Always cheering you on, Kim Have you ever wanted to make a big life change but you couldn’t quite get yourself there? Maybe you wanted to move to a different city or go back to school. For me, I wanted a new career. Actually, I needed a new career. The old one wasn’t working for me anymore, and I refused to “ride it out”. But starting something new in my fifties felt daunting. Work needed to look different this time. At the top of my list was freedom. Freedom to choose when and where I’d work, and what I’d work on. My best option was to work for myself, but what would it be like to be my own boss? I almost quit my old gig a few different times, but to be frank, I always chickened out. Time continued to tick by, and suddenly I was no longer in my “early fifties”. I’d reached fifty-five. If this kept up, I’d turn sixty and still be unhappy at work. I could technically “retire” from my corporate job, although I knew I wanted to keep working. What I really wanted to do was throw my entire self into writing books. As a banker and an accountant, I vacillated between the potential financial pitfalls along any author’s path and the sheer excitement over the prospect of finally pursuing the longings of my heart. I’d published my first book four years earlier and spent most of my free time learning about publishing and writing craft. Did I dare give notice this time? Was I crazy to walk away from a paycheck and benefits? Probably, but the ultimate cost of staying loomed too high. I knew if I didn’t try, I’d always regret it, and I refuse to be one of those people with a heaping pile of regrets at the end of my days. If I was finally going to summon the courage to change careers, I needed reinforcements. A dear friend offered endless encouragement. My spouse supported my decision. Even the arbitrary early-retirement age at my company felt like “permission”. But I still worried I’d chicken out. Again. I celebrated turning fifty-five in late July 2021. August flew by, and though I thought about quitting my job nearly every day, I didn’t give notice. What was I waiting for? Another few paychecks? Don’t misunderstand. I knew I was blessed to have a job at all. But reminders were popping up all around. It was time, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t even want to wait until the end of the year. I decided to pick the day and it would feel magical when I reached it. That random date I selected was October 15, 2021. I’d give a one-month notice. But how could I stay true to myself? It would be too easy to put it off again. After all, delaying had become a habit. I needed a new plan. I’ve always loved encouraging quotes. If I kept reinforcing my commitment every day to this self-devised timeline, would I actually do it this time? The date was September 9, 2021, and it would have been my mom’s seventy-eighth birthday if she’d still been alive. Because I knew she’d want this for me, I decided, once and for all, that I was doing this. I’d give notice the following week, on September 15th, and be done in a month. That meant there were thirty-six days until I was free to pursue my new career. I spent that September 9th combing through copies of quotes I’d saved in various places: screen shots on my phone, boards I’d put together over the years on Pinterest, and even highlighting in some of my favorite books. I found thirty-six favorites, wrote them down on pretty paper, and headed to the backyard to take a picture of every single one. I hoped those words of encouragement that I’d collected over the years would ultimately help see me through this time. Each day, I’d study that day’s quote and then tack it up on a fresh posterboard. I wouldn’t break the chain, no matter what. I saved my very favorite quote for what would be my last day at the place I’d worked since I was twenty-four years old. Maybe you think this all sounds silly, but it worked. It had taken me years to figure out what would keep my commitment and courage strong. Friday, 9/10/21: I'll do what makes me happy and be done with all the rest. Saturday, 9/11/21: Embrace uncertainty, some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later. Sunday, 9/12/21 The trouble is, you think you have time. Buddha They say your life can change in an instant, and that’s true. But when we have to intentionally summon the courage to make a change that rockets us out of our comfort zone, especially when it’s a change that many people won’t understand, it takes something extra. In my case, it was the combination of an accountability buddy and a series of random quotes, written on dated slips of paper, that saw me through from dissatisfaction to a new way of life. As I’m writing this blog post, it’s exactly two years since I chose to finally stay true to myself. It should have been Mom’s eightieth birthday, and although I couldn’t celebrate with her, I know she’d approve of the changes I’ve made. I’ve decided it will be fun to share those actual quotes and images with you, once a day, until I reach my two-year anniversary in my new career. Come find me on Facebook or Instagram under "kimberlydiedeauthor" to follow along. Be sure to let me know if any of them resonate with you, too. I’ll ask again: is there a big decision you’re tired of putting off? If so, what kind of encouragement could you give yourself to follow through this time? Maybe some of my favorite quotes will ignite a fire for you, too.
Cheering you on, Kim |
Kimberly Diede AuthorHello everyone and welcome to my blog! My name is Kimberly Diede and I'm a fiction author and family girl. When time permits, I am happiest with a great cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. I love to alternate between reading and writing. Winters here can be long, dark and cold. Summers are unpredictable, lovely and always too short. Every season of the year, as in every season of life, is a gift. Let's celebrate it together! Archives
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