Category Archives: Women

Do You Ever Just FREAK Out?

Posted on by
2

So, picture this: I got on a plane and flew to Savannah, GA, for dinner. For DINNER! 

Well, okay, it wasn’t just any ol’ dinner. I threw my name in when Susan Hyatt announced her, “Girlfriends Gone Wild” event. One night, 20 fabulous women, a little life coaching and great food. 

Doesn’t it all sound like fun? Well, it was. …until it came time to actually ENTER the restaurant.

See, I’ve always had this ‘thing’ about walking into rooms of people I don’t know. It’s odd—I can be on stage in front of thousands and not bat an eye. I can teach a group without a moment’s hesitation. But to just walk in to a room of strangers and have to start making small talk??? deer.jpg

Jesus, take the wheel.

Guess what? THIS IS SOMETHING I HAVE TO DO! I mean, I just big fat have to do it sometimes. Why? 

Tweet: Relationships are everything.#songwriters #womeninbusiness @BelindaSCre8iveRelationships are everything.

Relationships are imperative for what we do. (Yes, for WHATEVER we do.) And, no, I’m not talking networking. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want anyone’s business card unless I want it, and it’s likely that I don’t want it if there’s no connection. (Soapbox for a another day.)

So here’s how I handled my good, old-fashioned FREAKING OUT about entering a room of people I didn’t know. 

1. I decided on my question. 

You know, the question—So, what do you do?  I spent a lot of years working at a job that in no way defined me or gave much insight into who I really was, and it was during that time that I stopped asking people what they ‘did.’ I’m not as interested in what someone does as who they are. So, I started asking other questions—What do you like to do for fun? or I’m planning my next vacation. Where’s your favorite vacation spot?  Based on who was going to be attending this particular event, I decided my question was, “So what are you most proud of?” (…it was a good one.)

2. I decided on my answer.

Even though I don’t love the question about what I do, I knew I was going to be asked. Here’s the start of my answer: My name is Belinda Smith, and I work with the best people in the world. 

3. I reminded myself of why I was there in the first place.

I was there to meet, be inspired by, and to inspire amazing women. …and I’d just taken a night away from home to do it. SOMEONE was going to make it worth the trip whether they liked it or not! 

Needless to say, I stepped out of my comfort zone in a BIG way. And, yes, it was worth it. For me, though, thinking about how I was going to show up and the kinds of conversations I wanted to have really did help the room-anxiety. It was like I’d given myself a road map of sorts, and Heaven knows we all need a little direction.

So, now that you know about my ’thing,’ do you have tips on how YOU do this? How do you do parties with strangers? HELP ME OUT HERE! 

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

Saddle Up Your Horses

Posted on by
Reply

 

Confession: I HATE NEW YEAR’S EVE.

New Year’s Eve is NOT my thing. For years I’d try to pretend that it was fun, but a while back I gave myself permission to stay home a

NEWYEARSEVEWHATEVER

nd enjoy the quiet. That was one of the best decisions I ever made. I just couldn’t handle the ‘fun pressure’ anymore. Bleh. I’m a geek. Geeks Rock.

HOWEVER:

I can totally get behind a brand new cool calendar.

A new set of color markers.

A clean slate.

Possibility.

Hope.

A whole year to make new ideas reality? Yes.

And, Beautifuls, I have NEW ideas. So, so many ideas.

 

SO LET’S DO THIS

I’m playing with my calendar and my markers, and I’m dreaming really big. I’m praying for my dreams and for yours tonight.

 

And, to quote an old favorite, SADDLE UP YOUR HORSES, WE’VE GOT A TRAIL TO BLAZE. 

 

WHAT ABOUT YOU?

What’s your big plan for next year? Come on, inspire us!
Here’s to finding True North, putting one foot in front of the other, and moving forward with a good community.

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

On Not Having Children

Posted on by
10

Natural LoveOn my flight today, I sat behind a young Mother holding an 11-month old boy. He was beautiful. Not in a traditional way, though. He was beautiful from the inside out, and I thought so as soon as I saw him.

You should know I’m not really a “kid” person. I’m not anti-kid at all, but personally I’ve never longed for a child. I’m glad other people have kids, of course, but it’s just never been my thing. And as a person with a disability, having kids has always felt kind of, well, I’ll just say “tricky” and leave it at that.

But, this little boy held on his Mother’s lap was captivating. He observed with intensity. I’ve never seen a child consider his surroundings with such concentration–the blue leather seat, the olive briefcase, the orange silk scarf. He was so curious, so deeply invested in putting the mental pieces together that I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

What a sweet soul, I thought.

It was nearly ten minutes before I noticed that something was different about this baby, something more than I’ve just described. As his mother eventually confirmed, he has Down Syndrome.

She talked about how she and her husband had packed up their lives and moved across the country because the baby had breathing problems in their old location. She said he already has an occupational therapist and physical therapist, and he would begin with a speech therapist next year.

He’s been here for 11 months.

I looked at how young the Mother is, and I watched as she wrapped her whole heart around that child. I wondered about all the possibilities for their future, and I thought about how emotionally challenging the past eleven months must have been–so many doctors and tests and treatment plans and research. And I watched as she held that little boy to her chest, how she rocked him gently back and forth, and how she kissed his head. So much love.

…and sitting there on that flight, watching that 11 month old baby with Down Syndrome take in the wonder and love of his new world, I felt the only ping of regret I’ve ever had for not having children.

I suppose it’s true that real love can make you see things differently.

 

P.S. If you know of anyone else who would enjoy this, I’d be honored if you shared it. Click the buttons below to send it to your online universe.

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

The Funeral Dress

Posted on by
Reply

One habit I developed a long time ago is that I write a song for nearly every book I read. I love to read, but I always used to feel guilty if I were reading and not working on a new song. (I’m so good at guilt.)FuneralDress

I remember the day I was telling my dear friend and fellow songwriter, Joel Lindsey, about it.  He said, “Belinda, it’s research. Read as much as you want because you get ideas from books.” We were at South Street Grille here in Nashville, and every time I go there I think about our conversation. I came up with the Novel Theme Song Plan out on that patio.

Fast forward many years, and many Novel Theme Songs, to summer 2013. I was invited to be on staff at the Appalachian Young Writers’ Workshop at Lincoln Memorial University, and when the director told me that Susan Gregg Gilmore would be the fiction teacher, I was stoked. I had read her first book, “Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen,” and loved it. Besides, I’m always fascinated with novelists; how on Earth does anyone concentrate on one thing for so long?

After a week of living in dorm rooms again, eating cafeteria food and surviving middle-of-the-night tornado warnings, Susan is officially one of my favorite humans.

 

The Cool Part

Here’s a very, very truncated version of one of our conversations:

Me: So do you have a new novel in the works? (I know writers hate this question. I asked anyway.)

Susan: Yes, it’s actually coming out in September. I’m really excited about it.

Me: Awesome. What’s it called?

Susan: The Funeral Dress.

Me: There’s song in that title.

Susan: Oh, it would be so cool if you wrote a song for the book!

Me: I’ll totally write a song for the book. (Thinking: She doesn’t know that I’m not allowed to read it if I don’t.)

And then a week later, Susan leaves me the following voice mail:
“Hey, I talked to Random House about your writing the song. They LOVE the idea! Call me.”

WHAT?

WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?

Gang, the Novel Theme Song has finally come into its own. And, honestly, I couldn’t be more proud of Susan and her novel. It’s so much fun for me to be able to add in even a small way to the release of, “The Funeral Dress.”

Today, I’m inviting you to check out your local bookstore (always support them first) or click here to order your copy.

And then you should write your own Novel Theme Song. You never know what could happen.

Here’s to supporting a fellow writer!

 

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

The Power of a Bad Song

Posted on by
4

 

I was just telling a co-writer the other day about how I’ve written some stinkers over the years. I always get a kick out of running across an old not-at-all-awesome lyric. I’ll come across a piece of paper with one of my furious scribbles, and the first thing that pops into my mind is, “What were you thinking? That’s terrible!”

Such is the case with a song I started when I was seventeen which I had to record recently.

I was a sophomore in college, and I was pledging a sorority. (I know. You don’t see it, do you? I am an Alpha Gamma Delta. It’s totally true.)

Our pledge class was told that we needed a class song. I was pledging with my high school friend, Kristin, and she and I decided to take the song I’d written for our high school graduation and change it to make it fit for the pledge class. (I found out later that they hadn’t meant we had to write a full-on song. They’d meant for us to make up lyrics to a popular song. Oops.)

The song was called, “When I Say Friend.” The hook is, “When I say friend, I’ll always think of you.” I’m not even going to go into all the parts that I wouldn’t write now (teardrop? Gheesh.) For your viewing pleasure, here is a picture the lyric I wrote all those years ago:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got an email from an Alpha Gam a few weeks ago asking me for a recording of this song. “When I Say Friend,” has been passed down from year to year, and my chapter is still singing it. They wanted a recording because a music therapist from hospice wanted to play comforting songs to a young woman, Toni, who was dying of breast cancer.

“When I Say Friend,” was one of the songs they asked for.

Toni was younger than I and we never met. I knew her name, and I knew she had been fighting breast cancer for years. I also knew that her husband died unexpectedly last September leaving her with the two boys.

I sat down at my piano that day to record, “When I Say Friend,” and the professional writer in me kept getting embarrassed at the lyric. Then, I would think of Toni dealing with the betrayal of her body and the weight of leaving her boys, and I sang. I remembered the spirit in which I wrote that little song all those years ago.

At seventeen when this song was started for my high school graduation, I was making a promise to my friends. Truth is, it was the best promise I knew how to make at that age.

As it turns out, with all it’s imperfections and naievete, it’s still about the best promise I know how to make to my friends today. I’d write it differently, but I’d still mean it.

Toni Gusic Saylor was diagnosed with breast cancer on September 19, 2003. She died at the age of 37 on September 11, 2012. 

Songwriters, write your songs with the passion of where you are in your experience. Write what you know exactly as you know it. Write your truth. Be excellent.

Songs have a way of finding their place. Even the bad ones.

RIP, Toni.

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

Making a Video: No More Excuses

Posted on by
1

We never know what people deal with on the inside where no one else can really see. We can never fully look into the dark corners and cobwebbed spaces of someone else’s heart. When someone does invite you in and does shine a light, albeit dim, it’s a responsibility not to be taken lightly.

I’ve been in a particularly interesting conversation about “food stuff” with some of my gorgeous women friends over the past week. We’ve talked about food as punishment and food as reward, food as hate and food as love. And, of course, sometimes an Oreo is just an Oreo, nothing less and nothing more.

As you’re getting to know me, you’ll learn all kinds of things about what makes me who I am (even I’m still learning), and the truth is that food has been–and sometimes continues to be–everything from punishment to reward to hate to love. I’m not alone in this.

So with all the honest conversations going on in the background, I thought it appropriate to tell you how much I hate seeing myself on video. Okay, it’s 37 steps BEYOND hate, or like hate to the 37th power.

I hate seeing myself on video for lots of reasons that I won’t go into here, but I also don’t like that I’ve always felt so much self-loathing when it comes to my appearance. I don’t like it that I have so many gorgeous friends who don’t feel beautiful, either. And, frankly, I don’t prefer that things should stay this way.

So, how do we start changing this? How do we start lighting up the darkness, and stop the automatic ‘shame switch’ from flipping on?

Maybe the first thing we do is make a video of us being real and then post it online, and then get used to feeling all the stuff that comes up with it. Maybe if we decide to persistently and pointedly face the demons, they’ll get bored and move on to somewhere else.

It may not work, but it could…and just what if it did.

To Your Adventure,

Belinda

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

Ashley Judd’s Puffy Face Moment: Here’s Mine

Posted on by
11

Richard Drew

 

Ashley Judd rocks.

My impression of Ashley has always been that she is a smart woman, and I’ve always liked her work.  I was thinking about her today and I have to say that no matter in what I context I see her, she’s always a bright spot for me.

Ashley took issue with an interviewer who commented on her ‘puffy face’ by writing a brilliant op-ed piece in the Daily Beast. If you haven’t read it, read it here.

Tonight as I watched her interview, and when she invited women to talk about their “puffy face” moment, I have to admit that I can hardly narrow down to just one.

However, because I’m so moved by Ashley’s ‘accidental’ platform, I’m going to tell you about what I would characterize as my biggest “puffy face” moment.

I grew up with certain musical role models. If I were naming names, and I’m not, I could give you three singers who influenced my every move from about the time I was nine years old. I tried to sing like them, I wore my hair like them, I tried to dress like them and I even tried to copy their speaking accent.  I learned how to sing harmony from wearing out their cassettes (yes, cassettes). Ultimately, I was just a kid, but my entire life direction was set in motion by my looking up to these women.

After college, and through a strange series of events, I got an opportunity to sing on stage at an event that one of these women was hosting. It was going to be a dream come true. I was beyond excited. No, I didn’t still copy my life after Her, but I did have a special place for her in my heart. I was so proud to be included.

The night came and fell pretty flat on the awesome-scale. I was mostly treated like an annoyance. I remember having to find a random room with an outlet where I could plug in a curling iron, I had to use my compact  mirror, and I had to change in the public bathroom. On the other hand, She had a dressing room and a professional make-up artist. She kept a good distance from me for the whole evening.

That was fine, I thought. I’m just learning how all this works, right?

After a little more time went by, I was told that She had said that she would never sing on a stage with me because I was too fat.

What?

She would never sing on stage with me because I was too fat.

And you know what? I was too fat. My hair was naturally huge and I hadn’t figured that all out, especially with no access to a mirror. I couldn’t wear high heels on her stage because my foot is paralyzed and I can’t. I wasn’t exactly the most gorgeous package going at that time.

I didn’t have an image with which she wanted to align her stage persona. I felt like she had told everyone around me that I was fat and ugly, and that they were all uncomfortable in the knowing. She hurt my feelings in a way that it still hurts all these years later.

But, I could sing. So I was a gross human being, I could carry a tune!

However, when I heard the recording of the night later, my entrance was obnoxiously overdubbed by Her.

I guess you could say that a woman I had trusted for years had torn me down to the point that I no longer had confidence in the direction I’d thought I was supposed to go. In the way she treated me based on my physical appearance, I felt like she was the meanest of the mean. To this day, the only solace I find in the whole story is that I’m thinner than she is now.

And you know what? This whole story and every part of it, hers and mine, are both just us playing into the junk we have been fed by society. Ashley says it well here:

I ask especially how we can leverage strong female-to-female alliances to confront and change that there is no winning here as women. It doesn’t actually matter if we are aging naturally, or resorting to surgical assistance. We experience brutal criticism. The dialogue is constructed so that our bodies are a source of speculation, ridicule, and invalidation, as if they belong to others—and in my case, to the actual public. 

We do experience brutal criticism.

We experience it at the hands of each other.

And we’re guilty of dishing it out.

Women, I think we can do better.

I’ll go first.

To Your Adventure,

Belinda

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email

The Single Best Way to Get What You Want

Posted on by
2


I was at a lunch meeting with some particularly successful and powerful women. 

You know how you can just tell when someone at the table would like the salt passed to them? You know that whole non-verbal thing that happens? When they don’t want to interrupt the discussion so they just act uncomfortable until finally someone notices and hands it over?

Well, Lauren wanted the salt (name changed to protect Lauren’s identity). It was just out of her reach.

As the lively discussion carried on, she did the entire routine we all do when we need a condiment we cannot politely reach.  Honestly, Lauren’s performance was pure perfection. If an award existed for a, “Non-Verbal Please Pass the Salt Routine,” Lauren would have totally won it.  It was so silently compelling that I almost got up myself and took her some from my end of the table.

However, her Salt Gatekeeper didn’t seem to notice. She kept right on talking and laughing as if nothing were happening.

Salt Gatekeeper is a beautiful woman of about sixty, and she runs a highly successful company. Salt Gatekeeper is impressively on top of things, and what I would call a ‘mover and a shaker’ in town. She lives on a fortune of great decisions, and she is well-liked by everyone. It was actually almost weird that she didn’t catch Lauren’s plea for salt.

Finally, Lauren gave up and started eating without it.

However, in a matter of minutes, I watched Lauren’s countenance go from ‘So Happy to Be Here’ to ‘I Hate Everyone and Everything.’

Her entire mood changed.  She withdrew from the conversation, she stared at her plate, and she slumped her shoulders. It was so noticeable (finally, she got noticed!) that Salt Gatekeeper asked her a pointed question. It was an obvious attempt to draw her into the conversation.

Lauren just shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

She didn’t participate in the rest of the meeting.

At all.

Really.                                                                    

She pouted for the rest of the lunch.

Over salt.

As we left the fabulous restaurant, Salt Gatekeeper reached for Lauren’s arm.  She  looked her dead in the eyes and said, “Honey, if you don’t learn to ask for what you want, you’re never going to get it.” 

With that, she turned on her heel, got in her big, shiny Mercedes and drove away.

What’s the best way to get what you want?

Ask for it.

Now, pass the salt and point me to my awesome new car.

 

To Your Adventure,

Belinda

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Email