Reboot Your Life Page 5

  As an adolescent, I struggled to accept a stepfather in my life. Learning the new rules of the house was difficult for me, and school and music became a refuge from my teenage angst. The piano provided solace and the lyrics became a vehicle for me to share my innermost feelings of sadness and confusion with anyone who would listen. It was the one thing that reliably brought me joy and happiness, and kept me close to my distant father. The drama of the musical theater stage became a way for me to escape into a life other than my own.

  But the past has a way of shaping one’s choices for the future, and despite knowing deep within my heart that music was my passion, I chose to excel in academics and start on the journey to medical school. Being a doctor meant a life of security, financial stability, and social status, out of the projects and into the Ivy-covered walls.

  At Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, despite an inner knowledge that I’d betrayed my musical soul, I persevered and became an anesthesiologist. During my fellowship year studying to specialize in cardiothoracic anesthesia, and working with surgical greats like Drs. Mehmet Oz and Craig Smith, once again, I reached towards music to help see me through this emotionally trying time. With the encouragement of a group of fledgling songwriters at a small New York City bar called Downtime, and the assistance of a young producer named Julian Harris, I wrote and recorded a six-song demo CD. This was my first experience in a professional recording studio, and it was exhilarating! It was also my first encounter with a keyboard player by the name of Paul Gordon. As a favor to Julian, Paul played piano on a few of my songs, and that was the last time I saw or heard from him for years to come. I accepted a job offer in Florida against Julian’s advice, who believed my creativity would be stifled by the Florida heat and my short-lived career in music would end. He was right.

  I excelled at being a doctor and had a natural gift for connecting with and caring for my patients, but I felt empty inside and left my private practice job after only two years. I felt as if I were suffocating and needed to escape. Fleeing to Australia, I met and married my husband of the next ten years. We had two beautiful children, but we were not happy, and I was increasingly discontented with being a doctor. We travelled from Australia to the U.S., went from job to job, state to state, one unhappy year after another. For some reason, enduring this challenging marriage, simultaneously working and childrearing, and having multiple different full-time jobs depleted me of all my creativity. The fatigue and stress, the lack of “me” time, the depression and lack of love saw me deeply entrenched into a song-less decade.

  Yet, there’s nothing like heartbreak and death to bring on the emotion that creates the inspiration for a good song. That was certainly the case with me. In the same year my husband and I inevitably divorced, my mother unexpectedly passed away. It was the one-two punch that sent me into a downward spiral for several months. Every time I put oxygen on a patient, visions of my mother slowly suffocating in the intensive care unit entered my mind. Any time during a crisis, I would snap curtly at the OR nurses, something not at all in my character. So, with the encouragement of my colleagues, I took a three-month medical leave of absence, never to return.

  I moved back across the Pacific Ocean, became a single mother of two little girls, and searched for a new job on my own. It was one of the worst years of my life but it began for me one of the most prolific times in songwriting that I’ve ever known. Over the next five years I wrote the songs of my life, of grief and pain, new relationships, and love lost and found. The floodgates were opened and I was once again creating beautiful music.

  In August 2012, I reached out to a contact of mine who is a professional musician and asked him if he would listen to some of my songs. Finally, after all those years of stifling my passion, I wanted to be a songwriter. I thought that perhaps if he liked them that maybe somebody like Mariah Carey or Mary J. Blige would like them too! Stanley agreed and after listening to my GarageBand demos, he sent me a Facebook message saying, “Shari, I was pleasantly surprised by what I heard! I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t think that you should shop your songs as a songwriter. In fact, I think you’re good enough to consider being the ‘artist’ yourself! You should record these songs.”

  It was the vote of confidence I needed and something I had never considered. Certainly a woman who was approaching her fiftieth year of life could not possibly embark on a new career in the music industry. Well, coincidentally, as if He knew it was my time, just a week later, Paul Gordon, the keyboard player from New York, reappeared in my life. Over the past twenty years he had worked with artists like Prince, Bon Jovi, The Goo Goo Dolls, Lisa Marie Presley, Natasha Beddingfield, and most recently the B-52s.

  Once again, thanks to the wonders of Facebook, Paul reached out to me and gave me two VIP tickets to see him and the B-52s in Washington, D.C. The show was an amazing experience and afterward Paul and I caught up on the last two decades. He was married with two little boys, living in Nashville and working as the keyboardist and guitarist for the B-52s. I was living and working in D.C. at the military hospital part-time and raising my two children alone. Paul asked if I’d written any music lately. With some cajoling, I decided to share with him a few demos I had on my iPhone, and watched him intently as he scrolled through song after song detailing the events of my life over the past five years. He listened, occasionally nodding and saying “oh yes” or “that sounds like so-and-so” and looking at me, at the song titles, and at me again. Thirty minutes later, he looked up at me with a bright smile and said, “Shari, you’re ready for an album.” I burst out laughing in disbelief.

  “I’m serious. I loved your music then and I love it now. You have a unique style, your lyrics are heartfelt, and I hear the story in each and every song. If you’re willing to come to Nashville, I have the month of October off and would love to work with you!”

  The Universe has a funny way of calling your attention to things left undone. And miracles happen when you least expect them too. But through a confluence of forces, Paul and I were brought together again to create Perfect Love, my first full length CD. Despite seeing an increasing number of wounded warriors in the operating room, my sympathetic musician Chairman created a flexible work schedule that allowed my frequent trips back and forth to the Nashville studio. Despite the monetary constraints of being a single mother supporting two teenage children, paying down a mortgage on a house, and only working part-time, I somehow managed to find a way to fund the project.

  On June 25, 2013, my forty-ninth birthday, Perfect Love was officially released to the world, and is now available on iTunes, Amazon, and CD Baby. And suddenly, as if it were always meant to be, my life feels complete, and I know I have done what I was meant to do. I have learned that true everlasting love comes not from others, but from the love we have for ourselves, from deep within, in that place that no one else can reach, except for our Creator of course, and I definitely have that… I love me. I share this message with you so you too can believe that it is indeed possible, no matter what your life circumstances, your age, your heartaches, or past traumas in life, to make your dream come true, and to live a happy, loving, spiritual, and passionate life.

  ~Dr. Shari Hall

  Mobilized by Fear

  You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.

  ~Mary Manin Morrissey

  I remember sitting in the doctor’s office. I remember hearing the word malignant. I remember discussing treatment options — but all I could think was, Is this really it?

  The ground beneath my feet had already been shaky before walking into the doctor’s office. Now the floor had been pulled out from under me. My mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer as well — hers was stage four and it was inoperable. Suddenly, we were both fighting for our lives.

  To make matters worse, I’d been struggling with my direction after leaving a successful ten-year career as an Emmy-nominated television news writer and producer. Suddenly, my priorities had taken a sharp and sobering turn. The question was no longer a matter of what I’d do with the rest of my life — it was how long the rest of my life would actually be.

  In the weeks that followed, I did what I’d always done when things got rough: I wrote. I kept writing, and I didn’t stop. I wrote from my hospital bed after they removed part of my kidney, and I wrote in the weeks that followed.

  I just kept writing.

  I didn’t realize it then, but I was writing my way through recovery. Those words would later become my first published work in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cancer Book, and I knew they were the most important I’d ever write — not only because they gave me hope, but because they might give others hope as well.

  Then I got an idea.

  I had always wanted to write a book, but it seemed that time and circumstances would never allow it. Uncertain where my future might lead me — or whether there would even be one — I had nothing left to lose. It was time to take the leap, to follow my passion.

  In the months that followed my surgery, I continued working on my novel, titled While the Savage Sleeps, and page by page, I felt my love for the written word take hold of me with more power than ever. Inspired, I found a reason to fight. A reason to live.

  I was fully aware that my first novel could very well be my last, but I didn’t let that stop me. In fact, now my resolve to become published was stronger than ever. If this awful disease got the best of me, I’d at least leave this world without any regrets over letting my dream slip away.

  And I had plenty of encouragement. My mother was the one who had inspired me to become a writer, and there was nobody who wanted to see my novel get published more than she. As her disease advanced — through the chemo treatments, the discouraging test results,
the nights she was too sick to sleep — never once did her enthusiasm and delight over my progress falter, and she’d always ask the same question: “How’s the book coming?” She was so excited and couldn’t wait to read it.

  I remember her answer when I finally finished my first draft and asked if she wanted to have a look.

  “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head, with a smile that reached into her eyes. “I want to wait until it’s done. I want to enjoy every word.”

  So I got back to work.

  But I’d soon find that my battle had only just begun, that the road ahead was paved with pitfalls. After finishing my novel, I spent a year facing one rejection after another from just about every agent in New York and beyond. I can’t say how many there actually were, because I stopped counting at a hundred. Many never even bothered reading the pages I’d sent, and the ones who did seemed to feel my book would never sell. It was heartbreaking, and it was discouraging, but I refused to give up. I couldn’t. I’d already struggled through so much to write this novel.

  But by June of 2010, it seemed pretty clear that I was spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. Out of desperation, and as a last-ditch effort, I took the only option that seemed available and uploaded my book to Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing Platform. I figured there was nothing left to lose. I’d let the people who really mattered — the readers — decide whether my work was worthy, and whatever that decision was, I’d live with it. At least I’d know that I had given myself a fair shot.

  Then I got my answer. Four months later, While the Savage Sleeps began moving up the bestseller list. My book, the one that nobody wanted to publish, the one that no agent even wanted to represent, eventually passed two of Stephen King’s current releases on its way to number one. My perseverance had paid off.

  Unfortunately, my mother never got to see our dream come true. She passed away before I could finish the book. But I still remember the day I hit the bestseller list. With a tearful smile, I said, “Look, Mom. We did it.”

  Three surgeries later, after my health finally began to improve, I found my stride and kept writing. In December of 2011, I released my second novel, The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller, and the results were even better. That book moved into the upper tier of Amazon’s Top 100, becoming their seventh highest selling novel out of more than a million titles available nationwide, and I was soon named one of the top-grossing independent authors in the country.

  Within three months, my sales had pushed well into the six-figure mark, and before long, movie studios, literary agents, and publishers began contacting me. It was quite a change, going from being ignored to suddenly in demand, but it felt wonderful, and I wasn’t bitter at all; in fact, I was thrilled. This wasn’t about saying, “I showed you.” It was about finally being able to say, “I showed me.”

  But it seemed this would just be the beginning of my real-life reboot. I eventually signed with one of the biggest literary agencies in the country, and soon after that, was offered an international, dual-publishing deal.

  After releasing my third bestseller, Darkness & Shadows, and with a new book soon on the way, my novels have also topped lists in several countries, further confirming what this journey has taught me: when life throws challenges onto my path, I can let fear mobilize or paralyze me, but choosing the former is the only way out.

  It’s been five years since that day the doctor told me my future looked questionable. Five years of good health and unquantifiable happiness, of living my dreams instead of longing for them.

  Of learning that life is all about the lesson.

  ~Andrew E. Kaufman

  Time of Possession

  When I approach a child, he inspires in me two sentiments: tenderness for what he is, and respect for what he may become.

  ~Louis Pasteur

  I loved my job in corporate America. I worked for a Fortune 500 company, the market leader in our industry. As a creative writer and incentive travel planner in the marketing division of the firm, I was traveling the world, having fun and doing what I loved most — writing. Well, at least, part of the time.

  Like every job, there was also a mix of stuff I dreaded or downright loathed. After fourteen years, that got me thinking. In a perfect world, wouldn’t it be nice to design a job around what you enjoy most, where your greatest strengths lie, and where you possess optimal potential? The theory being that you should spend your career doing what you love most in life.

  Was this possible or was it a pipe dream? I started to research the feasibility of becoming a full-time freelance advertising copywriter and executive speechwriter. Much of my educational background, professional training, and work experience were in these disciplines.

  I began talking to freelance copywriters and speechwriters. I read books by the most successful among them. I got on the phone with them to discuss how to directly apply their ideas to my situation in my marketplace.

  I looked into self-employment insurance, income taxes for sole proprietorships, and personal property taxes. At first, freelancing fulltime with a family of four on one income seemed like a leap of faith. In time, more information meant less fear and freelancing became a viable career option.

  Since my wife, Karen, was a stay-at-home mom with our two young sons, there was no margin for error. I had to succeed. I set a launch date a year out. My preparation included setting up a sole proprietorship, creating a company name, finding an accountant, designing and printing business cards and letterhead, purchasing state-of-the-art computer equipment, software, a printer and office supplies.

  Next was the hard part — testing my talent by writing for a broad clientbase. I started to write for local design firms and advertising agencies to prove to myself that I could write successfully on virtually any product, service, or subject. The criterion for success was simple — obtain repeat business.

  As I built a reputation for myself, I expanded my portfolio and earned repeat business with every client. I continued my day job and freelanced at night. My days were long.

  Launch day finally arrived. I had practiced my resignation speech a hundred times. Still, I felt the full weight of my decision. I set up a meeting with my boss and gave him notice. He was not surprised. He knew I had a dream to chase. He congratulated me, and we set my departure date.

  I was never so excited. At thirty-seven, I was building a business around my strengths and the one thing I was most passionate about. Soon, I’d gained a few large clients and won several advertising awards.

  I cherished the best fringe benefit of the freelance life — extended time with my wife and kids. My sons, six-year-old David and four-year-old Mark, watched me write from home for almost a decade. We played touch football in the back yard and baseball in an adjacent yard. We took short ice cream runs and long nature hikes, complete with walking sticks. I made up my time away from my business by working late after the boys were asleep.

  It was a time of building family traditions. Football became our trademark. We teamed up with the neighborhood kids. I was the steady quarterback on both teams so I could play offense with each of my sons. I knew their skills so I could pit them against each other and still keep the score even until David would make a leaping catch in the corner of the end zone near the fence and evergreen tree. Or Mark would run for daylight and dive head first into the opposite end zone near the rotted willow tree stump.

  At bedtime, as I tucked David in, he asked, “Dad, do you think I will ever be good enough to play in the NFL?”

  “It depends on how hard you’re willing to work.”

  “Do you think I will ever be as good as Joe Montana?”

  I wondered how I would answer. Joe Montana, the San Francisco 49er quarterback, won four Super Bowls and was a legend in his own time. He was destined to become a NFL Hall of Fame quarterback. Yet, I wanted to keep the dream of my then nine-year-old alive.