Molly In My Heart

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Image Via Shutterstock

When I was about nine years old, I went to a classmate’s birthday party. For confidentiality, I will refer to that classmate as Molly.

I remember it was a cold, grey early December day, probably around three in the afternoon when my mother dropped me off at Molly’s house.

Molly greeted me at the door and I said, “Happy Birthday!” I handed her my present: Holly Hobbie Colorforms, stickers, and a new sticker album gift-wrapped in brightly colored paper and a red bow.

I looked around the living room and there wasn’t one party decoration, no balloons or streamers hanging anywhere. The house was dingy and dark and it smelled like stale cigarette smoke. Her father didn’t say hello. Instead, he stared at Howard Cosell on the console television set complete with a big rabbit ear antenna.

“The backyard, Molly! You and your friend need to play outside!” her mother yelled from a room somewhere in the back of the house before I could even take off my coat.

Molly looked at me with unhappy eyes. “I have to listen to Mommy,” she said as she took my hand and led me through the house and out a back door that had a ripped screen and a broken window. The back yard contained a dilapidated swing set, barren of any swings or slides, and was littered with empty bottles and rusted cans.

Molly and I played outside for the entire two hours of her party.

No other classmates or friends came.

It was just me, and I was frozen to the bone under my coat and my mittens.

All Molly had on was a striped long-sleeve t-shirt, stained jeans, and torn navy-blue sneakers. She told me she didn’t need a coat and wasn’t cold despite her chattering teeth.

There were no snacks.

There was no soda or ice cream.

There were no favors or goody bags.

There was no cake for Molly, and no singing of “Happy Birthday.”

It was dark when my father picked me up. Christmas lights twinkled from all the houses on Molly’s street except hers.

When I got home, I couldn’t stop shivering. My mother was livid when she found out I was outside for two hours in the cold and in the dark.

“What kind of people have a party outside in the freezing cold like that!” she yelled. She called Molly’s house to complain, but nobody answered the phone.

I understood a little more about why Molly’s clothes were always dirty and why she never brought a lunch to school. For the rest of the year, I was extra nice to her. She was absent a lot, but on days when she was in school, I’d share my lunch with her and reach out to her because Molly was my friend.

I wasn’t allowed to go to her house ever again to play with her, and her parents would not drive her anywhere so she never came over to my house to play, either. The following year, I didn’t see much of her because we had different teachers, and we consequently lost touch.

That party was 40 years ago.

I’ve been haunted by it ever since.

It makes me incredibly sad that nobody else came to Molly’s party.

It makes me even sadder to think about how hard life must have been for her.

Molly ended up dropping out when we were in high school, and I have no idea where she is now.

However, Molly never left my heart.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed for Molly to be loved and to have enjoyed a real birthday party like she so deserved.

I really hope God answered my prayers.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Molly In My Heart” was posted on jillocone.com on January 12, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

2020: Planning for Progress

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Left Top: Planner 2. Right Top: Planner 3. Left Bottom: Planner 4. Right Bottom: Planner 1.

I absolutely love planners, stickers, and journals/notebooks. Always have and always will.

To me, writing is innate. I’m forever jotting down my wishes, hopes, and dreams, and things I see and thoughts I have and tasks I need to complete.

This is especially true for tasks I have to complete because, at times, I can become easily distracted. If I don’t write it down, there it goes, flying away just like that pretty little butterfly flying past me…wow, look at the bright colors in her wings! Lemon yellow and black with a hint of bright sky blue towards the bottom of her wings. I think it’s an eastern black swallowtail. Where is she going? How old is she? I wish I could flutter along in the air like she does….

Get the idea?

I have to write things down or I’m left with a vapid mind and a “What was I doing again? What do I have to do today? Where am I?” type of confusion.

I definitely remember better when I write something down. For instance, “Glasses on Route 70” is written on my list of “one-liners” from 2019. I read it today and can immediately picture that late spring morning drive into work when I was stopped at a red traffic signal with the day’s sunrise shining in my side-view mirror. Through the sun’s rays streaming off the mirror, I noticed to my left a pair of mangled eye glasses next to the innermost concrete barrier in the highway’s median. I immediately wondered whose they were and how they got there…what a story starter! That’s what my list of”one-liners” is, a list of random things I’ve seen that could start a story. I can take you right now to the exact spot where I saw those eye glasses simply because I wrote down “Glasses on Route 70.”

Last summer, I unearthed my treasure trove of planners and journals of old in my attic Those archaic thoughts and plans provided a portal to my past lives. I’ll be honest that revisiting those calendars and writings reopened some old wounds with a bout of  the “coulda shoulda wouldas,” but isn’t hindsight 2020 (pun intended)? I’m extremely grateful that the only remaining visions from those crazy nights and past disheartening anguish-filled moments exist in pen and paper only and are available only to me, rather than by digital posts on social media that could be viewed and shamed by anyone in the world.

The advent of 2020 has led me to admit I have become a full-fledged planner addict. I have four active planners for the year, each serving a different purpose. I look forward in anticipation to the two hours every Sunday I set aside to plan for my week ahead by prepping my planners, replete with stickers, and stickers, and even more stickers!

Planner 1 is an Erin Condren Life Planner with daily hourly format which contains my agenda/schedule/task/”to do” list. This is the one I carry with me everywhere I go. I’ll list my work schedule and daily focus, then appointments and meetings I might have along with items I need to complete in a checklist format (pay bills, take attendance, mow the lawn, etc.). I’ll also slap a blank post-it on the page to jot things down that I want to remember (like the Glasses on Route 70).  This year, I am purposely scheduling time blocks during each day/week for progress towards my monthly and yearly goals. For instance, I have a two-hour block each day for “writing and research,” and on Sundays when I’m prepping, I indicate what project I will focus on during each day’s writing block. I will fill most of January’s daily writing blocks with work towards my magazine assignments, but I’ll mix it up with “New Novel Work” or “Surf Book Research” on off-days. I’ll also schedule time to walk, meditate, query, read, beach sessions, household tasks, and laugh. Once I have scheduled my week in my planner, I’ll set up schedule alerts in my phone as another way to keep me accountable and on task. Dedicating time for my goals, my responsibilities, and my writing has helped me to stay focused without becoming distracted by the temptation of social media or butterfly fly-bys.

Planner 2 is my daily diary from The Happy Planner (8.5 by 11 format, vertical daily layout, health and wellness theme), which is where I compose a diary-type entry each night. Most of the time I write things I want to remember or highlights of my day in incomplete sentences, like my niece’s laughter or the color of the sunset. If I’m too tired at night to write, I make sure I do it first thing the next morning. I also keep a running list of places I went, places I ate, and one-liners I recopy from Planner 1 in my daily diary. Sometimes I’ll tape in pictures I took or things I picked up throughout my day.

Planner 3 is new this year, a 7 by 9″ planner from The Happy Planner (classic format, horizontal format for each day, beautiful Coastal Good Vibes theme). Inside its pages, I mapped out my daily/monthly/yearly goals for 2020 with its purpose to keep me more accountable for making progress towards what I hope to accomplish this year. Each goal is color coded, and I use the daily day blocks to log what I accomplished each day. I also complete a “skeleton schedule” for the upcoming week which I transfer into Planner 1’s schedule after I see my open time slots for each day. This planner has helped me to focus on all of my goals (the “big picture”) while breaking each down in manageable chunks of progress for the week. Both Planner 1 and Planner 2 have a monthly goals section, and Planner 3 helps me to refine what I declare on those pages as my monthly goals.

Planner 4 is the Irish Get Up & Go Diary 2020. I stumbled upon this beautiful little diary on my 2016 Dublin trip in Eason (my favorite store ever) and I’ve bought it online every year since. With colorful spreads and the right amount of encouraging quotes and motivating sentiments, I use it for my daily gratitude reflections as the space available for each day is the perfect size.

Stickers and planners go hand in hand, and I just love sprucing up my week with color and positivity. I have a large sticker tote, and I’m not exaggerating when I say there must be over a million stickers in that tote. I’m a huge fan of The Happy Planner’s sticker assortments and selections because they offer more variety and a better quality product for the price versus competitors. On Sundays, when I’m planning for the week ahead, I am surrounded by stickers that will help motivate, inspire, and add a little bit of seasonal charm and colorful fun to my days.

In addition to Planner 1, I also carry a plain journal/notebook with me wherever I go to free-write, plot out ideas, and dump my brain. I use this notebook for daily “morning pages” in Julia Cameron style, but I usually write only a page or so. When I complete my daily diary entry into Planner 2 each night, I also review my notebook to see what I need to transfer to my planners (i.e. list of things I have to buy, ideas for a character in my next novel, etc). Planners 2, 3, and 4 stay at home unless I am traveling, then all of them will be in my carry-on.

To some, it might seem like all of this is a waste of time.

I beg to differ.

My system helps immensely with NOT wasting time by keeping me on task while keeping the distractions at bay.

Besides being easily distracted, sometimes my Lupus will cause what’s known as “brain fog.” There’s nothing worse for a writer than sitting at a keyboard or with a pen/paper and having NO thoughts coming, especially when there’s a deadline looming, then in frustration, wasting time scrolling on social media. Even in a fog, or when a beautiful butterfly flies past me, my planners help me focus on the big picture and redirect me to making headway, no matter how small, towards one of my goals.

Planning is progress, and for me, time well spent as 2020 is the year I will become the person and the writer I’m meant to be.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“2020: Planning for Progress” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on January 5, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

 

 

 

New Year’s Morning

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“New Year’s Morn. “Taken January 1, 2020 at sunrise in Melbourne Beach, Florida with my iPhone (no filters). Copyright Jill Ocone, 2020.

It’s quiet and calm

At the beach before dawn

As the sun peeks its head

Over the horizon.

Slowly yet deliberately,

It casts joy and hope

Masked in its first light

On a new day,

A new month,

A new year,

A new decade,

A new me.

Its grows and ascends

As it magnificently

Ignites every cloud in the sky

And shell on the sand

With its splendor of colors

And radiant light.

As it says,

Good morning, world.

Here’s a brand new day,

Another fresh start

Created just for you…

and if this one doesn’t work out,

I’ll be back around

Same time tomorrow,

With another new day,

Another fresh start,

Teeming with a new batch of

Joy, hope, and faith,

Waiting just for you.

 

Happy new day. Happy new month. Happy new year. Happy new decade.

And Happy New You.

 

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

 

“New Year’s Morning” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on January 1, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with licensing and publishing inquiries.

 

 

Endings Are Beginnings Are Endings And So On…

20160314-blog-photo-new-fonts-use“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca, also quoted in “Closing Time” by Semisonic

Today is December 28, 2019.

It’s the end of the month, the end of the year, and (gasp), the end of the decade.

Boy is that a mouthful!

As the clock’s hands tick forward to time’s trifecta of the beginning of a new month, a new year, and (gasp), a new decade, I’m straying from the trend of making insert-appropriate-ending-here reflections and listing insert-appropriate-ending-here accomplishments that ultimately do nothing more than feed my ego.

Likewise, I’ve lived long enough to realize that resolutions are nothing more than lip service, so I’m not going to waste my time setting myself up for future disappointment by making empty resolutions just because that’s what society expects of me.

Instead, I’m approaching 2020 with practicality, honesty, and authenticity as it will be a year of enlightening discovery.

My word for 2020 is “becoming” and it’s just deliciously exhilarating knowing I am evolving into both the person and the writer I’m meant to be. As I approach 50, I am still getting to know myself as I continue to learn and grow.

As such, I have selected five projects to complete in 2020 which will help me become just that person and that writer, and each project will serve my fellow humans in some way, shape, or form. More details about each project are forthcoming and I sure am glad you’ll be accompanying me on my journey.

My intention for 2020 is to live every day better than its yesterday, no matter where I might be or what is on my planner for the day while honoring my core values of kindness, generosity, and compassion. I will help when I can and endure when I must.

“Becoming” is certainly fluid and I am eager to chart my course and explore the compass of me.

May the new month, the new year, and the new decade lead you to YOU with an abundance of health, happiness, and joy.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Endings Are Beginnings Are Endings And So On…” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on December 28, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2019, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with licensing and publishing inquiries.

A New Hope, Indeed

opening_crawlI’m in full preparation mode for Thursday, which includes purchasing as much Kleenex stock as possible and buying tissues by the boxful.

That evening will culminate 42 out of my 48 years here on earth, and I’m not being melodramatic in the slightest.

As a little girl in the 1970s, I wasn’t a tomboy, but I also wasn’t a “girlie girl.”

I fell in the middle, a misfit of sorts, and always sympathized with those toys relegated to the Island of Misfit Toys in the classic “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” especially the polka-dotted elephant.

Toy options for little girls like me in the 1970s included various models of Barbie dolls including Cher and Farrah Fawcett, Shrinky Dinks, Easy Bake Oven, paper dolls, Holly Hobbie, Fashion Plates, Spirograph, and baby dolls.

While the Spirograph and Shrinky Dinks were okay, the rest?

No, thank you.

My little brother, on the other hand, always received the coolest toys for Christmas and his birthday, so I played with them instead.

I spent hours creating highways out of the plastic, orange track that my brother’s die-cast cars could take back and forth to work or use to race their nemeses. I took pleasure in building cities and creatures out of his collection of hard, plastic interlocking blocks in all shades of primary colors. I could pretend and use my imagination to create stories that didn’t have females conforming to the societal stereotypes of the era when I played with toys marketed to boys.

Especially in 1977.

That’s the year when my beloved uncle and grandfather took my brother and I to the movies to see some two-hour-long space-type flick that was all the rage.

I was six years old, and I remember it.

My brother was two, and he remembers it.

The characters and vehicles and lands from this so-called “space opera” were top-billed requests on letters addressed to Santa from all over the country that year, and believe you me, I raided my brother’s treasure trove of vehicles and figures from said “space opera” every chance I got.

That blockbuster movie, known today as Star Wars: A New Hope, has coursed through my veins for 42+ years and positively impacted my life in several ways.

At first glance, many are surprised that this blonde-haired, blue-eyed beach-loving writer and educator has had Jedi dreams and a desire to join the rebel alliance surging through her blood since childhood. I am not ashamed about my love of Star Wars, which began the minute I first heard the London Symphony Orchestra blare the main title while I read the quintessential opening crawler announcing that it was a period of civil war and that “rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.”

Star Wars was deliciously different and provided me with a new way of seeing things. It was the first time I was exposed to a strong woman who wasn’t being molded into a future wife or mother. Leia was a princess, that’s true, but she had a purpose much greater than her title. She wasn’t searching for a prince or seeking admiration. Instead, she was fighting for a cause she believed in with fierce determination and ultimate fearlessness.

Leia was my inspiration, and I adored her.

I still do, now more than ever.

Star Wars offered me new hope at an age when I so needed it.

And it wasn’t just Leia.

I loved all of the characters and their idiosyncrasies. This most interesting band of misfits and their missions transported me to exciting worlds as they defended their cause with 100% effort and dedication for what they believed was the greater good.

And Boba Fett is the baddest-ass misfit mercenary ever to travel to the Outer Rim and beyond. He’s got swagger and an aura of cunning dauntlessness, and is the coolest cat I’ve ever seen on the big screen.

Star Wars lands like Tatooine, Hoth, Bespin, Endor, and Yavin 4 were so different from the other lands of suburbanite make-believe I was exposed to as a child. Who would have ever thought that now, thanks to the magic of Disney Imagineers, I can actually board and ride the Millennium Falcon and walk through lands inspired by those in the Star Wars franchise two- score-and-two-years after seeing them on the big screen for the first time? Shameless plug here for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge, which is out of this world, pun intended, and Shangri-La for the millions of people like me who have Star Wars in their bloodline.

Three trilogies with nine movies and two spinoffs spanning 40+ years in both space time and reality… I’ve loved every single one of them.

Let me loudly repeat that for the fanboys in the back: I unconditionally loved every single movie.

Now, the saga featuring the story of the Skywalker lineage is ending with the ninth installment, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, which premiers on Thursday night.

Sure, there will be new Star Wars series and films in the future, especially on Disney+, but THIS saga, the Skywalker three-three-three trilogies, has reached its end.

This saga’s threads spans generations and have run deep through my life tapestry inspiring me, exciting me, and providing me with a sense of acceptance and a love of story I might never have found otherwise.

More importantly, this saga has provided me with hope, time and time again, and I’m eternally grateful for its lessons.

Carrie Fisher taught me to follow my heart and age authentically, that it’s okay to be broken, and honest writing can be therapeutic. George Lucas taught me to write what my soul tells me to write in spite of the naysayers. Princess Leia taught me to be a strong and independent woman while fighting for what’s right, and also that I never have to conform to society’s norms. Han Solo taught me that scoundrels aren’t all that bad. Luke Skywalker taught me to believe in what I cannot see. Chewbacca taught me the value of friendship. C3PO taught me the importance of wisdom. Anakin Skywalker taught me the perils of giving into darkness. Darth Vader taught me that family ultimately comes first. Padme Amidala taught me to serve when I can. Lando Calrissian taught me to let bygones be bygones. The Emperor taught me the importance of balancing the dark with the light. R2D2 and BB8 taught me to keep rolling when things get difficult. Kylo Ren taught me to focus on the lesson instead of the outcome. Finn taught me that anyone can be a hero. Poe Dameron taught me the importance of teamwork but to recognize when it’s time to work alone. Rey taught me to seek my destiny and to believe in my journey, no matter where it takes me. Obi-Wan Kenobi taught me to trust the Force because it will always guide me in the right direction.

Boba Fett taught me that there’s nothing cooler than being a bad-ass misfit, and to answer requests made of me with, “As you wish.”

Finally, Yoda taught me to do instead of try, and that there’s a time for everything to end.

And, so it is.

If you see me on Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’s opening night bawling like a baby, it most definitely isn’t only because of what happens in the storyline, not that I know anything that’s going to happen, mind you.

Those heartfelt tears will be flowing because the curtains will have closed on a very special part of my life as the double suns set for the final time while the credits scroll among the stars.

Cue the John Edwards fanfare.

The force will be with you.

Always.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“A New Hope, Indeed” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on December 14, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2019, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with licensing and publishing inquiries.

The Message

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No, I’m not talking about the marvelous old school, classic rap song by Grandmaster Flash.

I’m talking about another message which recently revealed itself in a very mysterious manner.

My story takes place at the local food market, where I violated societal convention by going there the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

I know, I know, it’s utterly insane of me to think of doing such a thing, but we desperately needed potatoes for our family’s Thanksgiving feast.

I’m the kind of person who is easily distracted by shiny things, which is a blessing because this quality has made me more aware and appreciative of the details I might otherwise overlook.

However, I threw my awareness to the wayside on this particular trip as I seized control of a wagon and prepared to do battle in the produce section. I assumed my visit would be a quick in-and-out, absent of anything out of the ordinary, then I’d be finished with public interactions for the day.

But sometimes, the universe has other plans.

I sped past the outdoor displays of table-top trees and cinnamon-scented cornucopias when something shiny and blue caught my eye right before the market’s automatic door sensed my presence with its force-like capabilities.

I moved out of the traffic flow so the other day-before-Thanksgiving-food-market-thrill-seekers wouldn’t trample me, then I backtracked to the metallic blue beacon.

It was a little, painted rock with a beautifully scripted message in gold sitting all by itself on top of a garbage can. It read, “You have the power to change things. – God.”

Woah.

Every hair on my arms and legs stood at attention as I re-read the small rock’s massive message.

I thought about putting it in my pocket, but my inner voice guided me to leave it be.

I snapped a picture of the rock and went about my business, my preparations for a produce-aisle skirmish unnecessary as there were plenty of potatoes available.

When I left the store, the rock was still there on top of the same garbage can but in a different spot.

Someone else had picked it up and moved it. Maybe this person also considered keeping it, but in the end, he or she thought it better to leave the message for others as I did.

The rock hasn’t left my mind.

Obviously, a human made the rock, but the universe placed that message for some reason along my path on the day before Thanksgiving, which coincidentally would have been my father’s 78th birthday.

The universe works like that. 

A message from God adorned in gold on a lovely metallic-blue rock placed on top of a garbage receptacle, of all places, on my Dad’s birthday.

What does it mean?

I have faith the answer, or answers, will come in time.

Until then, I’m grateful I slowed down to see and receive the message.

Please join me in slowing down, especially during this time of year, to truly experience the season’s wonder and majesty and to appreciate the details and the messages along our path that might go unnoticed.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“The Message” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on November 30, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author who was not compensated in any way by any entity. All rights reserved.

November Amber – An Update…

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Taken on November 6, 2017 at Parvin State Park in NJ

It’s my second-favorite time of year as nature’s autumn tapestries brighten before shedding their coats for the winter and every step outside resounds with a satisfying crunch under my feet. Eternal summer would be bliss, but November is like a comfy, cozy blanket after the hustle and the bustle of September and October.

For me, November also brings with its majesty both a time of annual reflection and a flare of symptoms thanks to the changing of the seasons. Please don’t take this as a complaint. I mention it as a matter of fact and I try my best to be stronger than the fatigue and the pain that arrive at this time every year. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, and on the days when I lose, I finish those days with hope for a better tomorrow and I keep my priorities in check while acknowledging the frustration I experience.

That’s real. And that’s my life right now.

I’ve been querying my novel titled Chapter One-A Novel, but no bites yet. Emphasis on YET. I believe the universe will lead me to the right opportunity in time, and if that opportunity is no opportunity at all, I accept it and will gracefully move on.

Writing has provided me with much-needed therapy as of late. While most of what I’ve written is personal and won’t be seen by anyone else’s eyes, the act of writing has both calmed and energized me. It has led me to declare that I will no longer be a check mark in someone else’s list of priorities. It has empowered me to put myself first and announce my heart’s joy and my soul’s peace and happiness will be the most important boxes to check off in everything I do moving forward, and to hell with the consequences.

I am actively outlining two more books (one fiction/novel and one non-fiction about the history of surfing in New Jersey) and completing and submitting several unfinished poems and short stories. I’m also working out the logistics of a few ideas that have been swimming in my head for years to see if they are worth pursing or if I should put them to bed forever, the biggest limitations being money and time.

I’m swimming in words and loving every stroke forward I make as I tread through the changing tides around me.

I believe in myself as I look towards charting the course of what lies ahead for me. No matter the destination, I will show up and do my best while honoring my core values of authenticity and joy.

I am here, and I matter.

Truth be told, I wish it didn’t take me 48.5 years to learn that.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“November Amber-An Update” was posted on jillocone.com on November 6, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author who was not compensated in any way by any entity. All rights reserved.

 

“Happily Ever After” – A Poem by Jill Ocone

The little, pigtailed girl

In the pink gingham dress

With shiny black

Patent-leather

Mary Janes

Bordered by lace-cuffed

White socks

Twirls on the playground

And skips along the sidewalk

As she drags her jump rope

Behind her

In the slanted sunshine.

 

She believes in pure goodness

And yearns for acceptance

And collects little trinkets

And loves to write…

Oh, how she loves to write.

 

Once upon

A long time ago,

Yesterday and

Today and

Tomorrow,

She faded away.

 

Where are you,

Little girl?

 

Come out and play.

 

Bring your heart of gold

And your untarnished innocence

And your rainbow-filled dreams

And your pink flowered bicycle

With the handlebar streamers

And play.

 

Come out and play

Today

And live

Happily

Ever

After.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

I wrote this today and thought I’d share. Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Happily Ever After” by Jill Ocone, Copyright 2019 – Jill Ocone“Happily Ever After” was first posted on jillocone.com on November 4, 2019. All rights reserved. Please contact the writer for publication, licensing/reproduction/reposting rights by email at jillocone@gmail.com.

“We Exist” by Jill Ocone

snapseedI exist.

 

I am twenty years older

Than twenty-eight.

I am not

Invisible

Nor did I

Dissolve when

I turned forty.

I exist.

 

I am one

Of millions.

We are not

Invisible

Nor did we

Vanish when we

Turned forty.

We exist.

 

We’ve been

Kicked and ignored,

Shamed and judged,

Inconsequentially consequential,

Older than the media’s

Ideal demographic,

Yet we endure and

We exist.

 

We are broken,

Yet we are repaired.

We will crack again,

Maybe tonight,

Maybe tomorrow.

Whenever it happens,

We’ll pick up the pieces

And glue ourselves back together

And we will

Continue to

Exist.

 

We yearn.

We cry.

We hope.

We nurture.

 

We exist.

 

We are childless and

Child full,

Mother Earth and a

Mother of pearl.

 

Beneath our

Sophisticated silvers

And wrinkles of wisdom

A little girl gleefully glows.

She scampers

Through the dewy grass

And twirls around and around

With her arms open wide

And palms facing the sky

As her pigtails and ponytails

Stretch out straight from spinning.

She never disappeared

And she’s finally

Coming out to play again

Because it’s her time to shine.

 

We coexist while

Imbibing our

Four tea and fifth tea

And even our sixth tea

With compassion for

And unequivocal

Acceptance of

Each other.

 

I am enough.

We are enough.

We exist.

 

We are

Beautiful

Seasoned

Formidable

Genuine

Plentiful

Savvy

Replete with

Knowledge and

Worth.

 

We are

INVINCIBLE…

NOT

INVISIBLE.

 

WE

EXIST.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

cropped-img_0764I wrote this today and thought I’d share. Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“We Exist” by Jill Ocone, Copyright 2019 – Jill Ocone“We Exist” was posted on jillocone.com on October 13, 2019. All rights reserved. Please contact the writer for licensing and reproduction/reposting rights.

Finally…And For Real This Time

img_8916I assure, you, I am not “crying wolf.”

This is the real deal.

This is the culmination of five years of not giving up.

This is what I’ve been working so hard towards and waiting for …

With joy in my heart and pride in my work, I am pleased to announce that my manuscript, Chapter One-A Novel, is finished and complete.

Seriously this time, it is.

Famous writers were correct about it taking time. If you’ve been following my story over the years, you know it’s been a challenge. It took several complete rewrites, many drafts, and a few years to produce a version I am finally happy with, a version I am proud of and believe in.

Looking back, I realize I totally jumped the gun with previous drafts. When I thought I was “done,” I most certainly wasn’t Underneath, my heart knew the whole time but I couldn’t admit it. Call me a nube, call me naive, but in retrospect, I hate that I ended up wasting the time of those who received it and/or read it.

Not anymore.

My soul is at peace and my heart incredibly delighted with what I have created. Chapter One-A Novel is now worthy of reading and submitting to publishing professionals. Even if nobody is interested in representing or publishing it, I know what I created is good, honest, compelling, and written in a strong and unique voice. Hell, I just started querying again late last week and already received my first rejection, but I am keeping positive because I believe in my manuscript and know the universe will eventually lead me to the right opportunity, which in the end, might be no opportunity at all.

I also know that the main character, Kelly Lynch, is exactly that: the main character. She is not me. Her voice might sound similar to mine, but it is hers and hers alone. Kelly’s voice deserves to be heard, and I sure hope the world gets to hear it.

Whatever Chapter One-A Novel‘s future may hold, I am eternally grateful for the opportunity of writing it and for the experiences it provided me with. Just as the book itself changed several times over the past five years, so did I. I am not the same person I was when I penned its first words, which were, “Once you write chapter one, everything will fall into place.” I have grown as both a writer and as a person throughout the process of Chapter One‘s crafting and simultaneous recrafting, and I like myself so much better now.

The universe was right. Everything is falling into place, or at least it seems to be. Even if all I receive are rejections, I found myself through the process while strengthening my bond with some very special influences and people.

And, I wrote a freaking novel. Not everybody can say that, but I can.

“Welcome to Chapter One. There’s no looking back.”

cropped-img_0764To learn more about Chapter One-A Novel, please click here.

Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

PS: Should you be interested, a detailed outline, sample chapters, and/or the entire manuscript of Chapter One – A Novel are available for review as I seek representation and/or publication. Please request by email, jillocone@gmail.com. Thank you for your interest!

Copyright 2019 – Jill Ocone“Finally...And For Real This Time” was cross-posted on both jillocone.com and SoulSEAker.com on October 6, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author who was not compensated in any way by any entity. All rights reserved.