Ready For Change?

"They always say time changes things, but actually you have to change them yourself. -Andy Warhol

Think about the following statements: Change is hard. Change is exciting. Which one sounds more inviting?

Approaching any change--career, artistic endeavor, relationship,diet, etc.--with the belief that it will be a long, arduous slog is far more daunting to most of us than if we embrace the change as an adventure. Re-framing the way we look at the world is the first step of finding happiness with our lives as they currently are and successfully handling transitions and effectively achieving goals.

Easier said than done, I know. And that's where an effective coach comes in. As a creativity coach I can help you define your goals and focus on the area or areas in your life that you'd like to change, expand and explore.

As a professionally trained coach and counselor with a Masters degree in Mental Health Counseling and post-graduate work in Creative Writing and Personal Coaching, I have helped clients in one-on-one sessions as well as through writing and personal growth workshops for ten years. I am also a professional writer--a journalist, award-winning playwright and novelist-- and radio talk show host. I have faced my share of transitions as I've navigated, from the driver's seat, the bumpy ride that a creative life often traverses.

I can help you:

set realistic goals
create and implement action plans
explore creative and spiritual arenas
conquer artistic blocks
work on relationships

As your coach I will: offer you a safe space where you will always be heard, validated, encouraged and held accountable to your goals.

Coaching is a rewarding, inter-active process. As we forge this unique partnership, we will collaborate on an amazing journey of positive growth and change.

Phone sessions are available; so no matter where you are, I can be accessible to you. In person sessions and workshops are available by arrangement in New York and Connecticut, though many local clients also find phone sessions more convenient and intimate.

I invite you to start a creative conversation.

Call me at (914) 939-5579 or
e-mail: abwrites@optonline.net
The first conversation, of course, is on me.

Thank you.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

Amy Beth Arkawy

You Gotta Believe

My childhood love affairs with the famous Dragon Coaster and the New York Mets prepared me for the ups and downs of a creative career.

The anticipation. The ascension. The dips. These are all part of every roller coaster ride. And every season, every game ( sometimes every inning). And they all play roles in most creative careers, too.

Just entering historic Rye Playland filled my youthful heart with magic and wonder. When I was straddling the middle between Kiddie Land and the Big rides, I would wait in line, standing tall, working a nasty little hole in the tip of my sneakers, hoping, praying I'd make the height line. I used to base my summer's success on the number of visits my family made to Playland.

When I finally made it onto the Dragon Coaster,I remember that queasy feeling that crept from my stomach to my head as we boarded the ride cars, buckled in for a wild, raucous, three minute romp. Kids would titter, giggle, laugh even before the ride started. The laughter, the screaming reached a crescendo as we took our first big, thrilling dip.

I loved it all. Until. Until the summer I turned seventeen and got a job ( actually begged for a job) as a relief ticket-taker. I'd roam the grounds of the hallowed Playland, proudly wearing my red and white striped carnival barker's shirt, filling in for the regular ticket-takers on a variety of rides, including my beloved Dragon Coaster. Somehow turning kids away and getting lambasted in a compendium of United Nations' languages sapped all the majesty and mystique out of the Playland experience.

But I still had--and have--my Mets. Hooked on New York's other baseball team by my dad, who had been a fervent Brooklyn Dodgers' fan, I inherited his love for the underdog Amazin's ( and , come to think of it, all underdogs, not to mention my love of writing). I'm too young to remember the 1969 Miracle Mets, but I do know they clinched the World Series against the Orioles on October 16-my mom's birthday. And I'll forever hold Tug McGraw's 1973 inspirational anthem, " You Gotta Believe," in my heart. It's seen me through many hapless seasons. And the glorious 1986 championship season ( here's where Red Sox fans can use the boost), and near misses in 1999 and 2000, a pair of crash-and-burn Septembers in 2007 & 2008. It's helping me hang in this injury-riddled year, hoping, waiting, knowing a recovery is imminent, a comeback is in the offing.

And so it is with my creative career, too. I love the whole shebang--from conceiving a project to executing it; from launching it into the world to fielding feedback from audiences and readers. It's all part of the process. And you have to love it all to make any of it happen. I love the possibilities of a new project, all the details that get discovered, the stories that are fleshed out along the way. I yearn for success, of course, but I embrace the failures too. I've even developed a perverse sort of love for rejection letters. Each one is a symbol of my committment to my work. People have a right to say no. They can't get it right every time. And neither can I. But every stumbling block, every obstacle, they are all part of the thrilling ride.

If you come to play, be prepared to work hard and practice. Accept that you'll strike out a few times. But if your disciplined, you'll get to run the bases. And if you work hard enough and if you're truly lucky you may just hit one out of the park.Maybe even two. Or three.

Hey, you gotta believe!