People Archives - Page 65 of 107 - Sonia Marsh

“My Gutsy Story” by JoAnn Abraham

April 2, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

For as long as I can remember, my life was constrained by my fear of heights. I was paralyzed by escalators, and in a shopping center would regularly have to ask strangers if I could hold on to them as we went down. Open staircases were impossible. Boat ramps, even though I love to sail, were a horror.

Then I was invited to the wedding of a friend’s child. Picture a large yacht floating in a pristine bay. That’s where I was. The yacht had been hired by the bride’s family for the afternoon. It was dream-like. People were swimming and generally having a wonderful time getting to know the other guests. I had the wonderful good fortune of finding a seat next to the groom’s grandmother, Mary. Within minutes, it was clear that, although she had suffered her share of sorrow, she managed to see every glass 3/4 full. I was having such fun talking with her about her adventures that I didn’t even notice that a small power boat had come along side. It was offering parasailing to the guests. For those who have never seen a parasail, a person is put in a harness that is attached to a long rope. The other end of the rope is on the speed boat. As soon as the person is secure in the harness the boat takes off, the parachute fills with air, and the person is flying high over the water.

People started to line up, and one after another, they flew. I sat with Mary, averting my eyes from the entire scene. Near the end of the afternoon, someone asked if I wanted a ride. I was about to say no when Mary said, “Why don’t you, Dear. You’ll love it. I did it for my 80th birthday.”

I was stunned. I was sure she’d help me say no. Instead, she egged me on. And because I was more afraid of losing her respect than I was of parasailing, I did it.

I got into the harness, shaking like a leaf. I told the driver that I’d never done it before and that I was seriously afraid of heights. That’s when he gunned the motor, and up I went.

In fairness, I must admit that the view was beautiful. But I was terrified. The boat driver had dunked the prior parasailers. They all came up laughing, but even the thought make me want to throw up. So I asked him not to. The good news is that he didn’t. I also had a shorter ride than anyone else, because when the rope extended to its fullest, I said quite loudly, “Can I go home now?” Thank goodness, he heard me. I have no idea how, given the vroom of the motor and the whoosh of the wind. I only know I was extremely grateful to land safely back on the yacht..

Upon my return, Mary congratulated me. It was small comfort. However, it convinced me that I had to find a way to manage my fear.

Several months later I was talking with a friend who is a psychiatrist. She said she had a patient with an issue so easy to resolve that my friend almost didn’t want to charge her. The patient was afraid of driving over a bridge. Why is it so simple to fix, I asked. She said it only required simple phobia therapy, which, if done correctly, can remove the phobia in three sessions.

I almost stopped breathing. Three sessions and I no longer would be paralyzed by escalators, by ramps, by open staircases, by ladders?

I have no idea why I’d never heard of it before, but it worked. After my first session, my homework was to practice going up and down an empty escalator. After the second session, i had to find a boat ramp and negotiate that myself. After the third, I climbed a high ladder.

I’m not going to say I never give heights a thought. I do. Then I realize how relieved I am, and I thank Mary once again for pushing me to learn how to control my fear.

JoAnn Abraham Bio

JoAnn Abraham has been writing since she was quite young. As an adult, she’s edited a biweekly community newspaper, and wrote many of the articles in it. She has also written for business, bridal, and lifestyle magazines. For more than 15 years she was a marketing manager for one of the country’s largest non-profits. She also is a motivational speaker. You can contact JoAnn on Facebook.

Sonia Marsh Says

I truly admire JoAnn, and hope that her story will help others who suffer from a fear of heights, escalators, boat ramps and more. I asked JoAnn to send me a photo of her, and love what she decided to do for us:

“You know how I wrote that I used to have to ” borrow” people to help me get on an escalator? Well, this time I “borrowed” a very nice man who was sitting near the escalator and asked him to take a photo of me going down all by myself.”
So, here’s your photo!

Thanks JoAnn, that’s very special.

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PLEASE VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE MARCH “MY GUTSY STORY”

The winner will be announced on April 12th. Winner gets to pick their prize from our 13 sponsors.

Good Luck to all of you. Your stories are amazing and inspiring. Please share these stories with friends and fellow writers and bloggers by clicking on the SHARE links below.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Interested in learning about my platform-building and marketing ideas, please visit Kathy Pooler’s blog where I am guest-posting.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

Please Vote for Your Favorite March 2012 “My Gutsy Story”

March 29, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

From March 29th until April 11th midnight, PST, you can vote for your favorite March 2012, “My Gutsy Story.”

To VOTE, please go to the poll on the right side of this post. You will find it on the sidebar listing the names of all 4 “My Gutsy Story,” authors.

Here are the 4 stories. Only ONE vote per person.

1). Pat Yeager

2). Jennifer Hemmeyer

3). Carla King

4). Stacia Duvall

The winner will be announced on April 12th. Winner gets to pick their prize from our 13 sponsors.

Good Luck to all of you. Your stories are amazing and inspiring. Please share these stories with friends and fellow writers and bloggers by clicking on the SHARE links below.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

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LISTEN TO PODCAST NEWS FROM SONIA MARSH

PODCAST CLICK HERE

“My Gutsy Story” by Stacia Duvall

March 26, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Twenty Push-Ups

There is a modern-day fairytale that begins like this:

Once upon a time in the midst of raising children, a lovely lady who had grown a bit complacent was surprised one day when her mate of many years said I don’t love you anymore. When the last child went off to college, he was with someone who made him feel younger and she was alone.

It was the first time she had lived alone. She ate cereal for dinner on occasion. She let the house get messy. She played her kind of music loudly. She slept in the middle of her king-sized bed. She chose when and where and why and how without consulting anyone.

In the quiet of that empty nest she remembered being 22. She could not recall exactly why she thought he was the one. She could recollect that when college ended and careers began, marriage seemed like the next logical step. She remembered being caught up in a gale of love that had swept in on the wind of fear. Everyone was being selected, one by one. Would she be the person nobody picked?

And suddenly, years later, it had happened. She was not picked and now she was alone.

This was not what she expected when she was young and raising her family and being supportive and living on the assumption that the future would be spent with the person to whom she had vowed her forever.

After time spent wallowing, she decided one day to call upon her remaining strength. She decided that from now on, she needed to do a couple of push-ups and try something new each day. Before long, she could do twenty push-ups and she had traveled by herself to a place a thousand miles away.

She found herself doing things she had never done before, like asking for help and making people worry and undoing another button on her blouse. She felt amazingly strong.

After some time, she started liking the idea of spending the rest of her life with a person she had recently come to know.

Herself.

One day after she realized that how she felt about herself could be called love, a handsome man rode in and tried to “woo” her. He tried and tried but she doubted there was space in herself to love another now that she so loved herself. She was afraid she might go back to where she had been when she was left by her husband.

But the handsome man was patient. He treated her with kindness and consideration unlike anything she had known before, which caused her to consider him differently. She could see in him quality and value. And she noticed that she smiled more and that her eyes seemed brighter when they were together.

One day as they danced, she told him she loved him. The words popped from her mouth before she had time to think of their meaning. And she knew for a fact there was space in herself to love another.

And the amazingly strong woman could see that whatever way the wind blew and whatever moment of the far-off future she was in, she would not be afraid. For she loved herself.

So she vowed that from that day forward she would be true and loving and faithful.

To herself.

And she felt happy, content, and at peace with that prospect.

Stacia Duvall ocean sailboat — Stacia Duvall's photography "Ocean Sailboat"

Stacia Duvall’s Bio

Stacia Duvall’s Gutsy story is not a story of extreme bravery or challenge but is instead the story of how an ordinary woman chose to become amazing and strong, albeit in her own way. She blogs at http://winsomebella.wordpress.com where she shares photographs of extraordinary views and writes about moments that give her pause, the joy of place, the growth of change and the beauty of the commonplace. When not writing or taking pictures, she is a granny who nannies, a yoga devotee, a far-flung traveler and always at the ready for a bike ride in the Rockies.

Stacia Duvall ocean — Stacia Duvall Photography "Ocean"

Sonia Marsh Says:

After reading Stacia Duvall’s, “My Gutsy Story,” I realize her talents go far beyond her photography and her ability to connect with her reader.

Stacia, your story about the breaking up of a marriage, and the process of finding out who you are, and falling in love with “you” before you can love someone else, is so inspiring. So many of us struggle with finding out who we are, and then falling in love with that person.

Stacia has a skill of sharing a story of simple joy through her words and her photography on her blog.

Please leave your questions and comments to Stacia below. I know she will reply.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here. We now have 14 Sponsors, including the latest, Dave, The Podcast Guy, if you wish to learn how to make your own podcasts.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

COME BACK TO VOTE for your favorite March 2012, “My Gutsy Story” starts March 29th through April 11th. The winner will be announced on Thursday, April 12th.

Want to be part of the “Gutsy” Indie-Publishing Community?

March 22, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

When I woke up this morning, I found this quote by Seth Godin, thanks to my blogger friend Miss Footloose.

“Guts is the willingness to lose. To be proven wrong, or to fail.”

This was the perfect quote to get me to confess.

Six years ago, I made a stupid mistake; I told everyone I was writing a book.

I started everything backwards. I took a class on how to write a book proposal and made fun of something the teacher said. “It can take six years to write your first book.”

“You’re kidding,” I said. “How can it take that long to write a book? There must be something wrong with the writer.”

Now almost seven years later, I get it; I realize how naïve I was back then.

Throughout those seven years, I’ve gone through many stages of learning the craft and business of writing, and there’s always more to learn. Here is my list.

Taking writing classes at my local university
Attending writers’ conferences
Volunteering at writer related events and/or associations
Joining critique groups
Blogging and joining blogger groups online
Working with 3 editors: story structure, copy/line editor, proofreader
Consulting with book shepherds, PR experts, editors
Pitching to agents and editors
Hiring a web designer/tech guys
Learning about social media, PR, podcasting, video
Reading and accumulating information
Networking and promoting daily
Submitting to online magazines and communities
Learning about the ever-changing publishing industry

And now, because of all the wonderful stories writers are submitting through the “My Gutsy Story” series, I’m in the process of setting up a publishing company. Once the paperwork goes through, I shall announce the name and a small online celebration.

The first “My Gutsy Story” mini-anthology with 14 authors contributing is now ready for you to download if you click on the “My Books” above, or the “My Gutsy Story” cover on the right sidebar, and yes, that’s me sitting on a palm tree trunk in Belize. (The mini-anthology is being sold for 99 cents.)

So here’s what I’d like to propose, and I’d like some feedback.

Let’s form a community of “Gutsy Writers” who want to go the indie route.

If you fit into one of the following categories, you’re in the right place.

You’ve submitted to agents and editors and been rejected.
You want to be in charge
You’re tired of waiting
You have the entrepreneurial spirit
You plan on speaking to groups about your brand/book
You’re ready to go
You’re Gutsy

Would you be interested in joining a FB group for indie-publishers? This would be a group for those who are starting out and want to learn more, and for others to share what they know, or are discovering along the road towards publication. We would discuss information we’ve gathered on indie-publishing: How to start your own publishing business? How to find the right people for editing, cover design, layout, marketing, PR and other helpful links from “experts” we’ve found through our research? LarryJacobson and Carla King, both contributors to the “My Gutsy Story” contest have a ton of knowledge on indie-publishing, and are both extremely successful authors.

This would be an interactive open Facebook group where we:

Coach and encourage one another
Offer tips and helpful articles and links
Links to contacts in the book business we recommend
Have discussions: the more the merrier.

What should we call our group?

Gutsy Indie Publishers?

Share your ideas in the comment section below

Finally, on a more personal note, During the filming of The Down Home Alien Blues I was lucky enough to have two professional photographers and a make-up artist take photos for my upcoming travel memoir: Freeways to Flip-Flops: Our Year of Gutsy Living”

These are my two favorite photos. I’d like you to vote on your favorite:

Sonia Author Photo Turquoise — Sonia Marsh

Make-up artist : Coco Covarrubias

Photographer: Erik Fischer

Make-up artist : Coco Covarrubias

Photographer: Kira Robles

Let me know your thoughts on a FB group for indie publishers, and whether this would be helpful to you. I’m always open to suggestions, and please share with your friends who can join in the conversation.

Thanks for all you help.

Sonia

“My Gutsy Story” by Carla King

March 19, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Alone, Illegal, and Broken Down

A solo motorcycle journey through northern China.

It is my first day alone on the road and I am lost. The mountains of northern China beyond Beijing are vast and enormous. There are no road signs, only larger roads and smaller roads, paved roads and dirt roads. When I stop to ask directions the peasants simply stare because I am the first foreigner they have ever seen, and a woman. Putting myself in their place I can sympathize. I ride up on a big black Chinese sidecar motorcycle, the most expensive motorcycle in China. Then I remove my helmet. A blond braid tumbles down the shoulder of my black leather jacket and I mutter something incomprehensible and then look at them with slightly crazed green eyes.

“Wǒ mílù le,” I say. “I’m lost.”

But they just stare. Most villagers have never traveled farther than their network of about a dozen villages all of their lives. And there are no taxi drivers or buses or truckers to ask.

Nearly out of gasoline, I am sure that the town I had targeted for my first night on the road, will not appear anytime soon. The going is slow not only because of the dark but because of the potholes and badly banked curves and the asphalt that ends without warning.

Where might I be? I might have looped back to where I began. I could be far, far away. I remember how the land looked in daylight: the jumble of pyramid-shaped mountains covered in soft green foliage jutting through the landscape, the crumbling hillsides, the plunging cliffs.

The unfamiliar engine rumbles. I am still working out its idiosyncrasies. I don’t yet know this machine well enough to take comfort in its working noises, its hard clunk down from third gear, its slight pull to the left.

Shadow trees fly by and a small animal bursts into the road. A rush of adrenaline prepares me for hard braking, for swerving or impact. It races alongside me and, improbably, others join in. Finally I realize they are piglets. We travel together down the road for several long moments of dark indecision. I hold my breath while they grunt and squeal hysterically, invisibly.

Several times it seems that they will move off the road and and several times it seems that they will run under my tires. Finally, I gently let pressure off the throttle and engine noise changes. In response, one piglet lets out a sudden, long, high-pitched squeal. The others join in and leap off the road into darkness.

Miles later my fingers are still stiffly poised above the brake lever. The icy night air leaks up the sleeves of my jacket and between my collar and helmet. My joints ache from working the clutch and the gears of this heavy beast of a motorcycle, bumping along a barely paved road in the pitch black backwoods of China.

The dark shapes of trees hover above on either side. Long ago Kublai Khan had traveled through China and was dismayed at the unbroken monotony of the roadways. He ordered trees planted on every roadside to give solace to travelers. As my headlight shines on one after another after another white painted tree trunk I have the impression that it is they which move past me, and that I am sitting still like an actor on a movie set, the wind machine blowing in my face.

What does give me solace is the sudden appearance of two gas pumps under a brightly-lit shelter. Beyond it stands a building strung with white lights. I pull up to the pumps and after a moment a woman peeks out of the doorway of the attached shack. She hushes the two small children peeking out behind her to walk toward me. Her outfit is garishly illuminated under the fluorescent lights. She sports a shapeless lime green dress sprinkled with large white polka dots and opaque knee-highs that have left a sharp dent halfway up her short fat calves, set off by bright pink rubber pool sandals.

She decodes my rough Mandarin while she pumps gas into the tank. Yes, she nods, smiling. The lit building is indeed a hotel—her luguan. I can stay there, and it will cost twenty yuan.

I pass underneath a concrete archway and through a pair of open wooden gates into the compound where a low, cheaply built stucco building stands. It is L-shaped and there is a glassed-in hallway with motel-style doors in regular intervals, each painted bright red and illuminated with a bare bulb.

I unfasten my helmet strap with cold, stiff fingers. My back aches and my left ankle throbs from the constant shifting. I toss my helmet, gloves, and scarf into the sidecar and dismount, only vaguely aware of the rush of people emerging from the door in front of me. I step away from the bike, allowing several people to push it closer to the building. My forehead itches, my hair is stuck to the skin.

Despite my aches, I feel a profound gratitude for having found this place, for the reward of having pressed on without panicking. It is dark and cold, but I’d soon be safe and warm. Finally my eyes adjust to the dim light and looking up, I meet the gaze of a dozen young ladies dressed in pajamas. When I smile they burst into giggles, covering their mouths with their hands.

So many maids! Why would there be so many maids for such a small country motel? I look at them more closely. Their black eyes flash. So much makeup! They giggle some more, then, suddenly shy, lower their eyes heavy with liner and false lashes. Their lips glow with thick red lipstick and their lurid peach-colored polyester uniforms shine. They aren’t maids at all, I finally realize. I’ll be spending the night in a brothel.

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Carla King Bio

Carla King has traveled the world on a fleet of various and often unreliable indigenous motorcycles. She chronicles her adventures in her Motorcycle Misadventures series of realtime online dispatches and books. Her popular blog is subtitled “a motorcycle travel writers writings, readings, journeys, gear, and recommendations,” but includes experiences on hiking, bicycling, scuba diving, boating, road trips, with musings from abroad and the San Francisco Bay Area, which she calls home. Carla has written for Women Riders Now, Adventure Motorcycle Dual Sport News, Rider, Riders of Kawasaki Magazine, Escape, Santa Cruz Travel Guide, many newspaper travel sections, and she is widely anthologized on the web. Her writing has appeared in anthologies including Rough Guide’s Women Travel, In Search of Adventure, Travelers’ Tales (including Food, France, and Best Travel Writing of 2011), Rough Guides Women Travel, and Wild Writing Women: Stories of World Travel. She is the author of American Borders: Breakdowns in Small Towns All Around the USA, and the upcoming China Road Motorcycle Diaries, as well as thousands of pages of realtime travel reports to the web from journeys in the USA, Europe, Africa, China, and India. No matter where she is, you can always find her at CarlaKing.com.

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Sonia Marsh Says

Talk about being a “Gutsy” woman who travels the world and doesn’t let fear of the unknown stop her. I look forward to your upcoming book, China Road Motorcycle Diaries, and where your next amazing adventure is scheduled to take place. I admire you and what you do to encourage women to travel and be “Gutsy.”

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?