What Can We Do? Tip the World Toward Love.

In light of the latest headlines, another African-American man killed yesterday at the hands of four police officers in plain view of stunned and protesting onlookers and recorded on a cell phone video, I could not find my way to the page today. The stories I wanted to write were drowned out by images from the news and my Facebook feed, my mind consumed with a swirl of competing thoughts and emotions. It is hard to find the words that even begin capture the way I feel today, but I feel compelled to try.

I cannot begin to comprehend the fear that our black and brown sisters and brothers in this country live with day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, decade after decade. Headline after headline about a system, a society, a culture that shows little or no regard for their lives. To take just the most recent examples:

• February 23, 2020: Ahmaud Arbery, a 25 year-old man, is stopped, shot and killed while jogging in a Georgia suburb. It became national news only after a video emerged on May 5th.
• March 13, 2020: Breonna Taylor, a 26 year-old EMT is shot eight times and killed in a botched police raid in her own home in Louisville, Kentucky.
• May 26, 2020: George Floyd, a 46 year-old restaurant worker suspected of forgery is pinned to the street by an officer's knee to his neck and dies pleading for his life.

The very real toll these events must be taking on the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well being of our black and brown sisters and brothers cannot, must not, be underestimated. Not to mention the stress and anxiety brought on by the uncertainty of waking up each day and worrying for your personal safety and the safety of your child, spouse, partner, relative, or friends in the course of going about their daily lives.

I, for one, am tired of clicking on the sad or mad (or recently added care) emoji each time these stories show up in my Facebook feed, knowing it is simply not enough. Even with the best of intentions, it is an empty gesture, worth as much as the routinely offered thoughts and prayers after each new school shooting. To be silent about these injustices is to be complicit in the systemic racism that has infected and afflicted our country for centuries.

We must do more.
We must speak out.
We must educate ourselves and others.
We must bring awareness to the problem.
We must call out aggressions against all members of our human family.
We must stand up in solidarity and raise our voices to call for justice to be served.

It is easy to say, but I have caught myself censoring my social media posts on more than one occasion to avoid being dragged down in the muck and mudslinging of internet comments or to avoid the bullying and ire of internet trolls who hide behind the relative anonymity of the web, let alone by friends or acquaintances who take issue when a light is shined on racial injustices. I have silenced myself for fear of saying the wrong thing, but it is even worse to say nothing at all when innocent lives are being lost.

While listening to a podcast this weekend, a conversation between Brene Brown and 19th Surgeon General of the U.S. Dr. Vivek Murthy on the topic of loneliness and connection, I was struck by Dr. Murthy's observation that our world is locked in a struggle between love and fear. He posed these questions, which resonate even louder in light of recent events:

• How do we move the world away from fear and toward love? 
• What can we do to tip the world toward love?

It is easy to get lost in the busy-ness of our lives, to say these things are in other places, affecting other people or other communities. But they affect all of us. We cannot afford to look the other way and hope for the best.

How do we move toward healing and tip the world toward love?
It will take connection and forgiveness.
It will take acting and living from a place of love.
It will take listening with open and non-judgmental hearts.
It will take acts of ordinary kindness and extraordinary courage.
It will take standing together against the voices of hatred and intolerance.
It will take not hiding behind our beliefs or our privilege.
It will take a shift in perception from fear to love -- in other words, a miracle.*
It will take many miracles that begin with each one of us.

In every great story where forces of good and evil clash in epic battles, love wins. And what gets me through each new day is the belief that love can -- that love will -- win again.


*This definition is often attributed to Marianne Williamson, who in turn borrowed it from Helen Schucman's A Course in Miracles

NOTE: If you are looking for a place to begin, some concrete actions you can take on behalf of racial justice, start with this list.

Give a Cat a Puzzle*

Give a cat a puzzle
and into the box she'll climb,
lie down on all the pieces,
settle in for napping time.

It's better that she's sleeping,
'cause if she's wide awake,
she'll sneak up on that puzzle
and the piece you need, she'll take.



She'll bat it with her tufted paws
send it flying through the air,
so when you need it    later on,
you'll find it won't be there.

And should you still ignore her,
to get your attention back,
she'll wiggle her hind-haunches
and prepare for an attack.







What happens next, you can't control --
a losing battle that.
A feline makes her own rules --
just ask any cat.









The purpose of a puzzle
may be lost upon your friend;
it matters not to her
how it winds up in the end.



So if snapping that last piece in
is the reward for which you thirst,
toss Kitty-Cat a mouse-y
or you'll have to find it first.

*Title and first line inspired by Laura Numeroff's much loved picture book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

Are You Out There?

The other night, as Alicia Keys led Stephen Colbert through a brief meditation exercise on The Late Show, she told him to focus on something he wished for. "I want my studio audience back," he said and laughed. But you could tell he meant it.

How strange it must be to record the show in his own home, after years of doing shows with a live audience. I notice it too as I watch with my husband -- the empty silence after each punchline where the laughter should be. Quarantined in our living room, it's up to us to laugh. Or not.

Colbert's longing for an audience response? I totally get it. It's a familiar feeling for an aspiring writer. For any writer, really. We throw words onto a blank page, post them on a blog or publish them as articles or books, and HOPE they find a reader. Hope someone reads our words and feels better for having read them, or at least feels something. Anything.

When I decided to start blogging again, I told myself it was just for me. An outlet for the thoughts that parade through my head in every waking moment, occupying my writer's brain. Those thoughts that, if left unexpressed, set up camp and clog my creative channels. I told myself it didn't matter if anybody read or commented.

I lied. It does matter.

We all want -- need -- that connection to our readers. Even those of us who prefer to create in the quiet of a writing room or artist's studio. We want our art to resonate with someone. Anyone.

See me, writers and artists say in the subtext of every creation. This may not be my story, but it does reflect, on some deeper level, a part of who I am. Something I have felt, something you may have felt too. A piece of my soul reaching out to yours.

We count pageviews and look for comments. And we feel sad -- empty -- when our words seem to fall into a void. When our voice goes unheard. Unnoticed.

Still, writing is an act of faith. So we continue. We put words on the page and send them out into the world in search of an audience. In search of even one reader who will pause and read. In search of you.

Keeping Your Chakras Open

During this time of social distancing and lockdowns, it is as important as ever to keep our chakras open and our energy flowing. Blocked or closed chakras can impede the flow of energy through our bodies, which can in turn affect our mental, emotional, and spiritual well being, not to mention our physical health.

In the spirit of keeping your energy flowing, I offer a practice to help you process challenging events and situations by walking them through the seven primary chakras.

 Root (1st) chakra                                                                              
What happened? Name the event. Let's take the pandemic. Or, if you wish, narrow it down to a more specific event caused by recent developments -- loss of job/income, limited interactions with people, restrictions on movement or freedoms, or a challenge in a relationship with a child or spouse.

 Navel (2nd) chakra                                                                          
How do you feel about what happened? Go with those gut feelings; they are called that for a reason. Are you angry? frustrated? sad? lonely? anxious? depressed? Feeling fear? despair? guilt? uncertainty? shame? resentment? What were the first feelings that came up? Name and acknowledge them.

 Solar Plexus (3rd) chakra                                                             
This is the seat of your mental body. What do you think about the event, about what's going on? What judgments are you making? What is that mental chatter in your head going on about? The thoughts that keep you up at night or distract you from your work during the day? We're talking reactions and rationalizations, not considered, measured responses. (If you need an example, look no further than your favorite social media feed.) Listen carefully to the messages you are sending yourself and others.

Heart (4th) chakra                                                                          
This is where the shift begins to happen. This is where our  2nd chakra feelings and 3rd chakra judgments can be transformed to (or by) the so-called higher emotions -- compassion, forgiveness, love, empathy, hope, acceptance, joy, and others. Choose the higher emotion that is needed to respond appropriately to the event you are processing. If not, you may find yourself mired in the swamp of 2nd chakra feelings and 3rd chakra thoughts. Suppressed, ignored, or left to fester for too long, these can block the energy flow and affect tissue on a cellular level. Find a higher emotion and ground in it daily. Having crossed the bridge at the heart chakra, we move from the lower to the upper chakras.

Throat (5th) chakra                                                                         
This is where you give voice to your experience or respond to the situation in some way. It might look like having a conversation with someone, writing a letter (which you may choose to send or not), or expressing your thoughts and feelings in a journal. This is also where you let go of what you think you SHOULD be doing and take appropriate responsibility for what you CAN do. For example, continue to do your job, taking the necessary precautions; or stay home, so as not to put others in danger. How can you be part of the solution?

Third Eye (6th) chakra                                                                   
Take time for reflection, meditation, introspection. Or if you happen to be an extroverted processor, talk it over with a trusted friend or family member, looking for insight. Is there a lesson here for you? How can you make meaning at a time when nothing seems to make sense? How can you use this event/situation as inspiration? As a call to action or change?

Crown (7th) chakra                                                                         
This is where faith resides, so closing or blocking this chakra can leave you feeling hopeless or disconnected. To keep the energy flowing, connect with whatever source of the Divine is true for you. Call upon your spirit guides, power animals, helpers and healers, angels, and archangels. They are always with you, but cannot act until you request their aid.


This process, which I learned from my Chakra Balancing teacher and mentor Arlyn Kline can be used any time to deal with big and little events alike. But it may come in especially handy now, as we all look for the best way to navigate this new, unfamiliar, and often surreal landscape. If there is one thing I have learned from decades of energy work and practicing mindfulness, it is that from the biggest breakdowns, come the biggest breakthroughs. My greatest hope is that we come away from this experience transformed -- or at least having learned something about ourselves.

[Note: Even as I composed this post, Governor Hogan announced the Stay-at-Home order for my home state of Maryland. This entry may be more needed than ever as we all absorb that news.]

Wet Socks?

There's a phrase I learned as a 20-something weathering the ups-and-downs of the search for love. I was doing a particularly bad job of hiding my

sadness one morning after the most heart-breaking break-up of my existence, which prompted a colleague and friend in the English department to say, "It could be worse...you could have wet socks."

From that day on, "Wet socks?" became our shorthand for checking the emotional forecast. And most days, that little shift in perspective was enough to bring at least the hint of a smile back to my face.

This morning, as I enjoyed the daily luxury of a hot shower (yes, I said luxury), wet socks interrupted my thoughts about life during a pandemic. It could be worse, I thought, as the water ran over my shoulders.

• We could have no hot water, forcing us to start the day with cold showers each morning.
• We could have no internet -- no Zoom meetings or classes, no virtual hangouts or Skype chats with friends and loved ones.
• We could have no computers or personal devices -- no Candy Crush or Words with Friends, no videogames or online Fort Nite marathons, no Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter feeds to monitor.
• We could have only one landline (remember when that was a thing?) that we had to fight each other for.
• We might be forced to get by on a diet of Saltine crackers and peanut butter or have to wipe our @$$es with scraps of newspaper.

Or we could be forced to watch news coverage of the pandemic 24/7 or tune in to press conferences that are more likely to spread confusion and misinformation than provide much needed reassurance. But no one is forcing us to do that. We can stop. Go back to getting our news once or maybe twice a day. If keeping up with hourly developments adds to our anxiety, we can step away from our screens, particularly the 24/7 opinion-driven programs that pose as news and the click bait that infests our social media feeds.

I know it is hard to be stuck at home -- and here comes the tough love -- but there are worse problems in the world than having to cope with a little boredom (or conversely, with the extra burden of having to teach and care for our children while working from home), especially if it allows those on the front lines -- those staffing our hospitals, maintaining public safety, running state and local governments, and supplying the food chain -- to continue to confront, contain, and eventually conquer the virus.

It is worse, in fact, in many parts of the world right now -- in Zagreb, Croatia where they just had a 5.4 earthquake; in war torn countries like Syria where many are living in unsafe and unsanitary conditions in refugee camps; in the impoverished areas of this country (and there are many) where the stoppage of non-essential businesses and the closing of schools means there might be no food on the table, much less a 30-day supply in the pantry.

So, friends, let's remember all those things we can still do from home -- exercise, worship, nurture relationships, practice mindfulness, learn, create, inquire, discover, and, most importantly, love each other. If we cannot work right now, maybe we can find our purpose in doing our small part to serve those who are fighting for survival.

Call me Mary Poppins if you must, but the best way to counter the grief over what we have lost or stand to lose right now is to feel gratitude for those blessings, large and small, that we do have.

And if that doesn't work, remember: wet socks.

On Choosing Sacrifice [Notes from a Pandemic: Day 13]

Today marks the halfway point of Lent, day 20 of the 40-day journey to Easter Sunday. On Ash Wednesday, our parish pastor Father John asked us what we were going to sacrifice for Lent. He urged us to look deeper than giving up a favorite comfort food or bad habit, and to contemplate instead giving up something that might change our hearts.

I thought back to one of the early years of my teaching career, when a good friend who taught history stopped me mid-rant in the teachers' lounge one day to make the observation that I complained a lot. Too much. I took what he said to heart and turned it into my Lenten practice that year. No complaining for 40 days. I didn't tell him. I figured that the best test of how I was doing would be to see if he or anyone else noticed a difference. They did. And so did I. The benefits of that sacrifice lasted long after Lent ended.

In the current political and social climate, it has been easy for me to get caught up in the swirl of negativity. I have noticed, as has my husband, that my frustration at the direction our country and world is going in (whether it's climate change or immigration or gun control or equal rights or the latest lies and mistruths coming from the White House) often boils over into angry outbursts or near-paralyzing anxiety that interferes with my creative efforts.

So I committed, sitting in my church pew on Ash Wednesday, to give up negativity and, as best I could, be a source of light and healing in the world. A lofty goal, sure, but one that might bring about the kind of change and journey to the heart that Father John was encouraging.

While there was some talk at that time of an epidemic spreading across China and into Europe that was likely to eventually reach our shores, I didn't know then the level of sacrifice we would all be asked to make in the days, weeks, and now it seems, months ahead.

We are all being asked to sacrifice, to give up some of the freedoms that we hold so dear in order to stem a crisis before the scope of its consequences becomes entirely tangible or visible. We are being told to stay in our houses, curtail our activities, work and school from home, and forego our usual forms of entertainment, from eating out to seeing a movie to enjoying an afternoon baseball game or taking in an evening concert or show.

For me, that has meant giving up several performances at the Argentine Embassy and Kennedy Center, postponing indefinitely the writing residency I've been preparing and joyfully anticipating since last fall, and the cancellation of SCBWI MD/DE/WV's annual spring writing conference. For my brother and his family, it meant cutting short a semester of teaching and learning abroad in England.

For healthcare workers, first responders, and so many others working to keep grocery stores and other essential services available, it means putting themselves at risk daily to take care of those who are ill and to ensure our continued health and safety. For many others, it means not being able to do the jobs they depend on to support themselves and their families. The sacrifices are just beginning.

Thinking about the sacrifices my mother and godmother made as refuges during and after World War II puts it all in perspective for me. I feel fortunate to have a roof over my head and a pantry full of food. I find myself wondering what I can give up, how I can scale back my consumption to make things last longer and stretch farther, what I can do to make sure there is enough for everyone. I seek out and do my best to embrace the lessons that this time of sacrifice offers. I encourage you to do the same, and to consider what doors may be opening to you even as others close.

With sacrifice come feelings of loss. Loss of what we had but may have taken for granted, or loss of what we did not yet have but were looking forward to. Not the least of these are the loss of certainty and loss of the ability to make long-range plans. And as human beings, we tend to grieve what we lose.

So yes, go ahead and grieve whatever it is you feel you have already lost or what may be taken from you in the days and weeks (and months) to come. And then take a few deep breaths and make the choice to sacrifice.

Word of the Day: Anxiety [Notes from a Pandemic, Day 8]

Anxiety. It's a word that's getting tossed around quite a bit in the news stories and social media posts of the past few days and weeks, increasing since lock-downs and shut-downs have been instituted. And with good reason. We are hard-wired for anxiety, an instinctual reaction to a potential threat. Add in uncertainty -- not knowing what comes next and not being able to plan for the future -- and anxiety takes off like the little popper weeds springing up all over my backyard.

My work with the energy healing art of chakra balancing over the past decade has taught me a few things about anxiety that I pass on to you here for your consideration as you and your family and friends adjust to this new level of uncertainty.

Anxiety arises from the root chakra, at the base of your spine, and increases when you become ungrounded. What ungrounds you? Not just physical jolts like falls or accidents, but also emotional shocks to your system, like the threat of a global pandemic, say, or your world grinding to a halt for an unknown length of time. Check, and check.

The antidote to anxiety, physically speaking, is grounding; its emotional counterbalances are trust and surrender, as in believing that we will get through this and letting go of trying to control those things that are beyond our control.

Why does staying grounded matter? Anxiety can cause you to pop out of your body, resulting in your aura floating somewhere near or above you, rather than aligned with the chakras (energy centers). Remaining in a heightened state of stress or anxiety over an extended period of time (14 days or 12 weeks, let's say) can result in dis-ease, or if it takes hold in your tissue and cells, disease.

So what can you do to stay grounded? A handful of suggestions:

🔴 Take a walk...or a stomp...or a run. Feel your feet connect to the earth. Walking around barefoot in the grass (if it's warm enough) or putting your toes in the sand (if you are lucky enough to have a beach -- or a sandbox -- nearby) is even better.

🔴 Hug a tree. Seriously. The bigger and more sturdy the trunk, and the more extensive the root system, the better. But really, any tree will do. If you feel strange wrapping your arms around a tree, or if you are afraid your neighbors will think you've finally lost it, leaning against the tree or putting the palms of your hands on its bark will work. 

Feel your energy connect to its energy and allow your energy to flow down the trunk, through the roots, to the earth. Have the intention of giving back any energy that is not serving you (i.e. anxiety, worry, panic) and pull up sustaining energy from Mother Earth. I did this when my father was ill and we didn't know how much longer he would be with us, and it always brought me back to a steadier place.

🔴 Find your rock...literally. If you have any jewelry with hematite, a stone with grounding properties, or just a pocket-sized piece of it, carry or wear it. If not, any stone will do. I prefer something with a smooth surface that fits in the palm of my hand. Hold it in your hand; feel its contours; tap into its solidness. Notice how it warms as you hold it. Or, if you've got a park nearby and can find a rock big enough to sun yourself on, kind of like a turtle, go for it. Allow its weight and mass to bring you back to earth and to your body.

🔴 Wear red...it is the color of the root chakra. If you feel ungrounded, try wearing red, particularly shoes or slippers, socks, or underwear (not kidding!). If you don't have those, shirts, sweaters, and scarves will work too. It may sound woo-woo, but the subtle energy body picks up on subtle cues.

🔴 Family time. We've all got plenty of that now, maybe too much for some people. But connecting in a meaningful way can stave off free-floating anxiety (note how that term implies an ungrounded aura) in a way that our electronic devices cannot. Like the coronavirus, anxiety can be contagious. As we listen to updates and read other people's posts, we may absorb their fear or panic.

While our screens will provide us with much needed human contact and a sense of connection to the world outside our homes, if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through your social media feeds (as I have a number of times these past few days), put it down and take a break. Go outside. Get some fresh air. Breathe deeply (more on that in a subsequent post).

There are more, but this is a place to begin. Together, we will get through this. 💕

Notes from a Pandemic: Day 6

Day 1 of our official lockdown in Maryland. Schools are closed for a couple of weeks -- likely more. Public gatherings of more than 50 are banned -- down from 250 a couple of days ago. Columbia Mall and movie theaters are temporarily shuttered (thank God there's still Netflix). But my husband and thousands of others are still at work. No, he is not a healthcare worker or a USPS employee.

Meanwhile, I got up this morning looking forward to a day of writing with no other obligations breathing down my neck and no stream of emails to distract me.

You know what they say about best laid plans, right?

My cat Mimi had other ideas of how we could spend the day. Or should I say her bladder and her chronic case of idiopathic cystitis had other ideas. It is 3:54 p.m. as I scrawl these words in my notebook, keenly aware that at any time she might get up and start to cycle again. A cycle goes somewhat like this:

• Go to litterbox 1.
• Go to litterbox 2.
• Go to litterbox 3.
• Strain to pee in each one. 
• Cover resulting one or two drops of pee.
• Go to back door; scratch and meow until staff lets you out.
• When door opens, go outside. 
• Two minutes later, if that, paw at the door to get back in.
• Go to front door; scratch and meow until staff lets you out.
• When invisible force field (translation: glass-paned storm door) goes down, pause and sniff the air. Contemplate whether to go out or stay in.

https://www.gocomics.com/brewsterrockit/2020/03/15

The two times I have dared to take my eyes off of her when she's been inside, she rewarded me by leaving bloody drops of urine on the white basement carpet, the clean-up of which demands either locking her in the back room of the basement with the litterboxes or tossing her back outside so as not to incur more collateral damage while taking care of the needed clean-up-on-aisle-6.

Those of you who have or have had small children or colicky babies can surely identify. Or perhaps I should say, I can now feel your pain. The only difference being that your little one will grow up and likely grow out of that phase, while the best we can hope for is to keep these incidents as few and far between as possible for the rest of Mimi's life, which could easily be another ten years or more, if she lives to the average cat age of 17 or 18.

I now know what you parents go through when the crying baby finally goes down for a nap and you are afraid to go about your normal business or tackle the house chores that have been stacking up while you tended to said crying, cranky, or sickly infant for fear that you will wake the proverbial Kraken. Fortunately for me, writing can be done without a lot of noise.

So, I will sit here on the living room floor, leaning against the buffet, notebook on my lap, and finish scribbling these thoughts while six feet away, my cat sleeps, belly up, under the dining room table for who knows how much longer.

And then I'll think about clever titles for the journal I'll be keeping throughout this pandemic to mark significant local and global developments as well as to track the more trivial personal struggles and triumphs that go with a life of seclusion while we wait out the coronavirus' threat and do our best to flatten its curve.

Stay safe and healthy, everyone. And remember, we're all in this together.

Hearing Voices: Wisdom from a Weekend in the Company of Storytellers

I have been hearing voices.

Since coming home from the SCBWI MD/DE/WV regional conference March 28-29, I hear the voices of the illustrators, agents, editors, and authors I met there whispering in my ear each time I sit down to write and revise. It feels like I have a whole support team standing behind me as I write, which is probably the next best thing to having packed them in my suitcase and brought them home.

What are they saying? Read on for some words of wisdom that have been echoing in my brain.

From Illustrator and (visual) Storyteller E.B. Lewis's touching, entertaining, and inspiring keynote address and his session on Writing with Pictures:
1) "Leap."
     Why? Because the leapers make it.
     The longer version of the story is one familiar to all kinds of artists. A writer (illustrator, painter, etc.) stands at the edge of a cliff, looking across a seemingly bottomless chasm to a group of published authors and asks the question we all ask: "How did you get there?" The answer is simple: "I jumped."
     As important as it is to take the leap of faith, E.B. Lewis cautioned, success is also about timing -- about the universe recognizing that this is the time your work is ready to be seen -- and preparation. Which leads us to #2.

2) "They [the greats] won't let you on the stage until you've done the work."
     Success doesn't just happen. Put in the hours and the effort to learn and practice your craft. And don't be afraid to make mistakes. Which brings us to #3.

3) "Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes and art is knowing which ones to keep."
     Making mistakes is about being willing to fail. If you're not willing to fail, E.B. Lewis warned, you might not make it to the other side of the chasm. The best way to lose your fear of failure is to fall in love with the process. To love the journey rather than always racing to get to the finish line.
     How? See #4.

4) "Put yourself in a place of most potential, and by that I mean multiple right answers."
     The work of the storyteller -- writers and illustrators alike -- is to solve problems. Not by finding the right answer, but by exploring the unending possibilities, and by having the courage to take on the creative dragons we all face when we sit down to write or draw (some days with better results than others) day after day until a project is complete.
     Where do we find the energy to do that? In #5.

5) "As Mark Twain said, 'The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.'"
     We all have a chip, E.B. Lewis said, pointing to his head. And the chip has to get turned on in order to find out the why. But in order for the chip to be turned on, we must be exposed to the right conditions, people or experiences. Once we know why we were born, why we are here, that passion fuels the journey and keeps us facing our dragons. That passion also steels us in the face of resistance. Which brings us to #6.

6) "We are the documenters of the world. We are the feared ones in society. We cause the multitudes to think."
     They want sheep, not shepherds. We create the shepherds.
     (Personal aside: Good teachers also create shepherds. One more reason why teachers, writers, and artists make good allies. We're all on the same side.)

From freelance editor and author Kate Angelella's talk on Learning to Love Revision:
7) "Revision is where your novel comes from."
     Kate's detailed tips on revision merit a separate post. But I will say here that as she guided us through the hard questions to ask on a first and second pass, I realized that I don't hate the revision process at all. In fact, if anything, I love it too much. But then I heard E.B. Lewis whispering in my ear again, saying it's all part of learning the craft.

8) "Every writer must have a shard of ice in her heart."
     Without that, you'll be too easy on your characters. Be willing to make them struggle. Your readers will thank you.

9) Kate's favorite piece of revising advice from writer Neil Gaiman: "If there are things you aren't satisfied with as a reader, go in and fix them as a writer: that's revision."
     A terrific reminder that one key to revision is putting aside the writer's hat for long enough to see your work through the eyes of a reader. That's where the desk drawer comes in handy. Put the manuscript away until you can see it with fresh eyes before embarking on the next round of revisions.

(Sidebar: Kate also led a Sunday morning intensive workshop on the objective correlative, which sounds much more intimidating than it is. Best part? A series of writing exercises that allowed us to experience this tool of the writer's craft firsthand. Again, worthy of its own post.)

From author and Kid's Post columnist Fred Bowen's session Writing My Way to a Better Life:
10) "Have a way to write that isn't official."
     Why? Because writing unofficially is a great way to generate and capture ideas as well as a dependable way to clear the channels when writer's block rears its ugly head.

And from Agent Carrie Howland of Donadio & Olson: candid advice about traditional and not-so-traditional ways of querying. Carrie reminded us that Twitter contests like Pitch Wars and PitMad are good not only to get your name out there and practice your elevator pitch, but are also a great way to get to know something about agents and editors. A fun way to do your homework before submitting a traditional query. And also a way of finding mentors and a community of your peers. She suggested that we look for comps and cover copy in the things others say to us when we tell them about our books. (Great advice! This happened to me just the other morning in a writing session with an old buddy.)
     And one last comforting tidbit: "The number of followers you have on Twitter really doesn't matter." That said, you can follow her on Twitter.

     May these voices travel with you and echo in your head as you go about your daily work too. Happy creating!

Life's Little Victories: Birthday Edition

Yesterday being my birthday, there were too many celebration-worthy moments to try to cram them into one Facebook status update. So, as promised, this special blog edition of Life's Little Victories captures and catalogs (in approximate chronological order) the many blessings that surprised me throughout the day, starting with...

1) Saturday, June 14, 9:12 p.m. Happy Birthday wishes from my husband, it already having turned to June 15th in the country where he is away on business. (Yes, bad timing, but we made the best of it.)
2) Sunday, June 15, 5:37 a.m. A happy birthday text message from an early rising good friend that set the tone for the whole day by wishing me a day of wonderful surprises. The day did not disappoint. (Note: I did not discover the message until somewhere after 8:00 a.m., a more civilized hour!)
3) The cats let me sleep in until 9:00 a.m....not!
4) Songs from the universe DJ who inhabits my iTouch shuffle (and at times, my car radio). The first three of the day: "No One in the World (can love you like I do)" by Anita Baker, "I Believe in You" by Luka Bloom (an Irish folksinger my string quartet used to open for during my college years), and "Bad" sung by Luka Bloom (but a cover of a U2 song), which doesn't sound birthday-ish until you hear the refrain of "Let it go...surrender" -- one of my go-to mantras.
5) Big bowl of Greek yogurt with fresh blueberries (my favorites!) and honey for breakfast.
6)  Wore my birthday present to myself -- a new favorite shirt!

(Only the colors are much more vivid than the pic shows.)
7) Unable to find the keys to my car, I drove Paul's to church, only to discover that he had left an interior light on which would have eventually drained the battery.
8) Front row parking at church even though the lot was crowded.
9) Wink from the woman I sat down next to in church -- and wishes to have a great day as we left.
10) "For God so loved his only son..." gospel reading, followed by sermon all about LOVE.
11) Free doughnuts and coffee after mass (usually the first Sunday of the month).
12) Universe DJ, this time in the car, plays Pink's "Perfect."
13) Traffic light karma -- greens all day long.
14) Found a planter of those flowers that look like mini-petunias and verbenas, normally $20, on the clearance shelves at Lowe's for just $5 (such a great discount, the cash register could not compute.) They already looked happier this morning.

15) Universe DJ strikes again -- in car -- Katy Perry's Happy Birthday song.
16) A late lunch with my Godmother, her husband and a couple of her choir friends on her front porch.
17) Serenaded with "happy birthday" in beautiful two-part harmony as dessert arrived (see #18).
18) Homemade gooseberry tart (with berries from her garden) topped with schlagsahne (that's German for real whipped cream). Yum!
19) Perfect weather all day long -- sunny, low humidity, blue skies -- aaaahh! (Thanks, Mother Earth!)
20) Birthday Skype call from my husband, who...
21) ...revealed where he had hidden a card and presents before departing.
22) Voicemail birthday message from my brother and his family...and later a conversation with them.
23) Cards and presents from family, including...
24) ...a beautiful scarf -- in our wedding colors (light green and lavender purple) -- from my sister.
25) Ice cream for dinner. Birthday rules. Haagen-Dazs swiss vanilla almond. How did I used to eat a whole pint in one sitting in college??? (H-D, you can thank me for this shameless plug with a free year's supply, hint-hint.)
                                                                                              
26) A boatload of birthday greetings and wishes from Facebook friends and family!
27) Happy Birthday/Father's Day call with Dad and Mom during which they shared memories of the Father's Day afternoon decades ago when I first entered the world.
28) Put my feet up and watched Chronicles of Narnia. Can I have my own personal Aslan?
29) Gemini b-day Horoscope highlights: "Reach for your dream by working hard at your job and developing goals during the next 4-6 weeks." Exactly what I plan to do. Full immersion writing period coming up. Time to crank out some serious words!
30) One word: Flow.

As midnight approached, I didn't want the day to end. But as I tweeted last night, if Day One of this new year was any indication, it's going to be a splendid year!

Thanks again to all of my friends and family who made my special day enjoyable, memorable, and filled with love!

What's Taking So Long?!?!

"What's taking you so long to finish writing that book?"
There, I said it. You know you've thought it.

Well, let's see. In the past ten days, I've rethought the first chapter, the first page, the first line, the first few chapters, the whole first quarter of the novel, the climax, and the ending, not necessarily in that order. And let's not even talk about the middle...

I've realized, among other things, that:

• The events of the novel start mid-school-year (January), not the previous September.
• My main character, Gabby, is a sophomore not a freshman -- about to turn 16.
• What Gabby is missing/lacks is as important to the story and to the reader's ability to connect with her as what she desires most. (Thank you, moodywriting.blogspot.com, for that insight.)
• Gabby has another flaw I hadn't quite discovered or consciously identified until last Thursday.
• The character who turns out to be one of Gabby's greatest allies is in her grade, not a year ahead.
• I was way too kind to and protective of Gabby in the first draft -- didn't make her squirm enough or at the right moments. (A common mistake of first-time novelists.)
• Certain characters know more (or less) than I thought they did about a certain main event.
• Something I thought was just a subplot is actually quite possibly the main plot. (Adverbs intentional.)
• I need to totally rewrite the scene in which the antagonist enters the story --and take her out of the one she originally showed up in -- to give her more power.
• The next three chapters up for revision -- or what were the next three in the first draft -- will most likely not make the final cut at all. (It's like they say: "Kill your darlings.")
• The climax I wrote for the first draft is not the real climax -- there is something even more powerful working its way to the surface.

Add to that a herd of smaller details that shifted or emerged in the past week or so, including what posters are on the walls of Coach's classroom, what speech or document they are discussing on Gabby's first day in  history class, how a certain note is discovered and by whom, what popular '80's song Gabby's friends dedicate to her at her roller-rink birthday party, Gabby's grandfather's favorite beverage, and the subject of the puzzle she and Grandad are putting together in the most recent version of chapter one. And so on.

I was relieved to read that this is completely normal for writers like me. Author and head of the literary agency bearing his name, Donald Maass explains it this way in his book Writing 21st Century Fiction:

"Organic and intuitive writers tend to need more drafts, which are often radically different, and may wind up with a manuscript more original and unexpected in its form, but also less tight, sharply focused, or smartly marching." (45)

This is not the revision process I applied to high school or college essays. You know the one -- rearrange a couple of words or sentences, check for punctuation and spelling errors and call it done. No, this revision process feels like mini-earthquakes shifting the ground beneath my writing feet on an almost daily basis. A bit unsettling. And a good sign, I think.

What's taking so long? All of the above and more. For me, this is about more than writing a book. Or becoming a published author. Once again, Donald Maass says it beautifully:

"To write high-impact 21st century fiction, you must start by becoming highly personal. Find your voice, yes, but more than that, challenge yourself to be unafraid, independent, open, aware, and true to your own heart. You must become your most authentic self." (4)

And that, dear readers, is a journey that cannot be rushed.

Life's Little Victories

Each year during the season of Lent, I dedicate myself to creating a new habit or way of being. I find this practice much more powerful and potentially life-changing than the alternative of giving up something (like chocolate or ice cream) that I inevitably go back to when the 40 days of deprivation are up. Besides, no woman -- or writer -- should have to live without chocolate or ice cream, Lent or no.

Inspired by author Kate Messner's keynote address on failure (see Feb 2014 entry) in which she reminded an audience of 1,000+ writers and illustrators (and all around awesome human beings who share the unfortunate tendency of dwelling on their flaws and imperfections) of the importance of pausing to celebrate the little victories in our work and our lives, I made a promise to do just that: celebrate life's little victories at least once every single day.

Now, instead of getting to the end of a day and dwelling on all the things I didn't get done or that didn't go as planned or that went decidedly (or even the slightest bit) badly, I take a moment before bedtime to reflect on what little victory from my day I can celebrate and share it with my Facebook family.

Already, this practice has had a happy side effect. I look for the little victories (consciously) during the day and notice them when they happen. For example, as I write this, I am celebrating that the high, gusty winds of the last 24 hours did not knock out our power or bring a tree down on our house. Admittedly, that one is entirely up to Mother Nature and the power company and other forces beyond my control, but I'm pretty sure Mother Nature doesn't mind a little gratitude every so often when we stop complaining about the winter weather or gloomy skies or unending precipitation (snow, rain, or ice) for long enough to pay her a compliment.

There is plenty of bad, depressing, and otherwise yucky stuff going on in the world, and the media is more than happy to report on it (repeatedly), broadcast pictures (whether or not we care to see them), and generally raise our collective anxiety level to ridiculous heights (without our permission).

So in the spirit of countering the yuck, I encourage you to develop a habit of celebrating your little victories and of sharing them with family, friends, the Twitterverse, or the dog. And we will happily celebrate right along with you.

From the Writer's Confessional

I have a confession to make.

As a fiction writer, I struggle to create detailed characters and settings -- at least in a physical sense. Sometimes I forget that the reader can't see what's in my head as I write -- what the girls seated around the cafeteria table are wearing or what posters are hanging on the wall of the main character's bedroom. And sometimes, I can't see the finer details clearly enough to write them in. Or, if I can, I can't translate those images into words that give the figures who haunt the shadows of my mind life on the page. Yet.

Maybe this is because of something in my creative DNA. Choreographer Twyla Tharp calls it "focal length." In her book The Creative Habit (a staple on my writing reference and inspiration shelf), she proposes that "All of us find comfort in seeing the world either from a great distance, at arm's length, or in close-up." According to her classification system, I am a great-distance person. Or at best, on good days, an arm's-length person.

What does this mean to my writing? It means that the close-up, make-you-feel-like-you're-right-there sensory details don't come easily, or naturally, to me. This is something my critique group finds incredibly (or at least somewhat) annoying, even though they don't put it that way exactly. But they do beg and plead -- persistently -- for more visual and tactile and gustatory and olfactory (love that word) cues so they aren't left guessing.

It means, that at least in early drafts, my characters are doomed to float around in a vast, empty, undefined space. They are stranded in the middle of a big white room or left standing aimlessly in front of a blank green screen. After all, it's hard to tell what kind of sneakers a character is wearing or how she eats an Oreo when you're seeing the fictional world she lives in as a pea-sized blue-green orb floating in a vast universe.

It means silencing my inner critic long enough to get a first draft on paper, knowing that I'll have to work at adding arm's-length and close-up sensory details to future drafts in order to bring the story's fictional world into clear enough focus for my readers to inhabit. Not sure yet if that will happen in draft 2 or draft 92 (Jack Gantos swears he writes everything 100 times), just that it will.

Seems that the great-distance perspective creeps into my real life too, like the way I view the community of professional, published authors. I know it exists, have orbited it for a number of years now, and have even been lucky (or proactive) enough to visit it and get within arm's- (or even pen's-) length at writing conferences and book-signings. But for now it remains an elusive, shadowy world built on shifting sands of creativity, hard work, and inspiration.

For now, I content myself by keeping that distant marbled orb in my sights, knowing that my writing journey is bringing me closer every day. And that one day, I fully intend to inhabit that world just the way my characters will inhabit theirs.

From Failure to Farewell

Still feeling inspired by a weekend spent with my tribe -- the 1,000+ writers and illustrators who gathered in New York City for SCBWI's annual winter conference. The story echoing in my mind this morning is one that award-winning author Kate Messner told in her hugely successful keynote address on the "spectacular power of failure." It went roughly like this [the original anecdote can be found in David Bayles's and Ted Orland's book Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking]:

Two groups of potters were given the following instructions: one group was told they could earn an A by creating just one fantastic pot while the other group was instructed to make as many pots as they could (the more pots, the higher the grade). When the researchers went back and looked at the results, they found that the group instructed to focus on quantity were more likely to have made a high quality pot than the group that tried to make just one work of art.

The lesson? If you want to create art (of any kind), create lots, and you are more likely to succeed. The message for me as a writer? If I want to write something good, I'm going to have to write a lot of bad stuff along the way. Hard news for a perfectionist to swallow.

For the last few years, as I have dived into re-inventing myself as a writer, I have been a potter in the one-pot-of-highest-quality group. Most of my energy has been devoted to writing my first young adult novel. And to show for my efforts, I have, as Anne Lamott would say, a "shitty rough draft" that I am now working to revise. Progress has come in waves. Periods of productivity followed by periods of stuckness. Through it all, I keep writing in my notebook, whatever words come, along with snippets of ideas that may eventually give birth to another novel or story or poem. I keep practicing my craft. Keep reading other writers to learn from their successes.

Lately, the question "What's taking so long?" has become more and more insistent. I used to think it was fear of failure. And then an insatiable drive for perfection that fueled that fear. And it was. But as I listened to Kate Messner talk about her own experiences of failure, I realized that the emotional roots reach even deeper. What slows me down is a wall (or a well, take your pick) of shame. A subconscious but oh-so-powerful avoidance of experiencing or feeling shame. The shame that might come from writing, sharing, posting or publishing something that is less than perfect.

Well, Shame, I write this entry to tell you that I'm not going to let you push me around any more. I know what it's going to take to get to where I want to go. Write. Write lots. Then write even more. Sometimes my aspirations and ambition will outshine my abilities, but that's okay. That's what's supposed to happen. And I will choose not to feel you when it does.

Yes, Shame, I am going to write you right out of existence.

One Step Closer

Flying high after receiving positive reviews of a chapter of CrossWords at the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators) MD/DE/WV conference this weekend. My one-on-one critique with an editor from Bloomsbury went even better than I had hoped, dreamed, or imagined, it being my first official writing conference, and the first time anyone outside my circle of friends or critique groups – let alone anyone from the publishing industry  – had read part of the book. This editor (not sure if it’s cool to mention her name in my blog) liked the chapter I submitted so much that she recommended I find an agent.

Huzzah! (Who says that?! Apparently I do. Must have RenFest on the brain.)

In my excitement, my brain turned to mush, and I neglected to ask her if there were any agents she would recommend as your average rational, thinking person might have done. But I suppose that’s really my homework.

Having basked in the glow for a good 24 -36 hours, it was time to get back to work this morning. Still have plenty of revising to do! Only now, in addition to rewriting the draft another few times, I need to (get to) write a full synopsis of the story, craft a query letter that casts me in an irresistible light, and start building a social media platform. (Twitterverse, here I come.)

No pressure. Let’s just call it urgency. A firm wind blowing from behind and pushing me ever closer to my dream of being a published author!

Now Leaving Texas...

Remember that journey through "the big Middle" I started a while back? The part a fellow writer (Laraine Herring) compared to driving through the state of Texas? The part I thought could take several months? I believe that I crossed the border today!

Sure, I may have to drive back through a few of the smaller towns, get a closer look at the scenery, and explore a few more side roads to fill in any remaining gaps. And yes, the bridge was out in Crisis City (not quite ready to write that scene yet), so I took a detour for now and vowed to come back in a few days or weeks. But I have officially passed from writing the middle section of the book into writing the final quarter.

In writer's terms, there is a threshold that happens after a major energy marker in the plot. One such threshold occurs after the crisis happens. It marks the end of the middle -- or the beginning of the end. Over the past couple of days, I wrote several of those threshold scenes in which Gabby reflects on what has happened, evaluates her choices, and gathers the resources she will need to make it to the climax and successfully transform. In other words, she has to take everything apart in order to put the pieces of herself back together again.

I suspected it was time to go there when I hit a pocket of resistance on Thursday night and had to fight for every word that made it on to the page. So on Friday morning, I reassessed my own situation and realized that yes, it was time to take another leap -- right into the novel's crisis. Or maybe directly to the resulting fallout.

Strangely, in the midst of all this, I couldn't help but notice the parallels between where Gabby is finding herself at this point in the novel and where the Republican party found itself after the election (a crisis of sorts for them) this week. And of course, what do they (Gabby and the Republicans) do first? Blame everyone but themeselves for what has happened...

The difference is, I get to have some say in Gabby's ultimate transformation. Too bad real life narratives are a bit harder to influence.

So long, for now, Texas!

(NaNoWriMo word count at the end of day 10? 19,607 words.  Yee-haw!)

Synchronicity

When you're not used to churning out 1,500+ words a day, it can be hard to keep the ideas flowing. But this morning, the universe sent a little gift my way.

I decided to indulge in a crossword puzzle before settling down to write. I haven't been doing the puzzles on a daily basis lately, but for some reason it was calling to me today. And when I got to the clue for 20 Across -- "Second first lady" -- I found out why.

Gabby, my main character, made a guest appearance at the breakfast table, via the New York Times crossword puzzle. For those who may not know, Gabby's given name is Abigail Adams (yes, her dad is a history buff), and crossword puzzles play a significant role in the novel's plot. And there they were, joined together in the answer to 20 Across.

There she is -- at 20 Across (the first long one)

Feeling like Gabby was with me in spirit, I wrote one and a half new scenes (1,362 words) before breaking for a late lunch, vowing to return later in the afternoon to break the 2,000 word mark for the day. But when I got back to my desk, the momentum was gone. What to write? Where to next? (The eternal questions of the non-linear writer.)

That's when the universe threw a little more help my way. A mid-afternoon call from a friend who is also a writer came at the perfect time, a welcome distraction. And, as it turned out, she also provided some much needed direction. When I told my friend about Gabby's surprise visit in the puzzle, she said, "That has to go in the book somewhere!" So after we hung up, I gave it a go.

Another scene was born, and I surpassed the 2,000 word mark. Thanks to a little synchronicity.

3,858 and counting...

As the second day of NaNoWriMo winds down, I am happy to say I have already written as many words as I did during an average week of my 30,000-words-in-3-months writing stretch this summer. And I thought that was a lot of words...

The last time I participated in NaNoWriMo was in 2007, just after I had left the classroom to devote more time to writing. I had no idea what I was getting into really -- had never even finished writing a fictional short story since second grade -- but if I was going to call myself a writer, I had to prove that I had the writing chops.

And so I set out on day one with a vague idea for a story but no vision of how the plot might unfold. My strategy was just to keep writing the story one day at a time and see where it led me. By day 5 or so, I had switched to a whole different premise and a new set of characters. Through sheer stubbornness and blind determination, I crossed the 50,000 word finish line a couple of hours before midnight on November 30.

This time, I am starting from a very different place. Halfway through a novel and with a plot map that gives me, at least broadly, an idea of where the story will go. You would think that would make it easier, but today's writing session suggested otherwise.

Having an idea of what should/will happen (i.e. the dramatic action) in a scene, does not, it turns out, translate into instant details or lines of believeable dialogue, nor does it tell you at what pace the scene should unfold or how it should end. There is no "just add water" formula when it comes to bringing characters to life.

My biggest challenge this time around will be freeing my inner "madman" from the demands of the perfectionist and letting myself just write. So while 50,000 words provides a measurable goal, what matters more to me is pushing through and getting the last half of the story on paper, even if it is in no shape for other eyes to read. What matters is taking on the messy scenes that build up to the novel's crisis and the powerful emotions they evoke. What matters is silencing the voice that says "It is taking you too long to get to the heart of the scene" or "The reader will be bored by this" and writing it all down anyway. What matters is remembering that I can go back and fix it later.

Two days down, twenty-eight to go.

Have Map, Will Travel!

Presenting...THE PLOT MAP! In miniature...

The Mock-up Map

...and fully grown.


The Real Thing

Yes, after two weeks of intensive plotting -- guided by Martha Alderson, The Plot Whisperer, via her book of that name -- I now have a 6-foot, color-coded map of the novel that will guide the rest of this journey -- through Texas (the middle) and beyond.

Turns out that the scenes I have already drafted make up not just the first quarter of the novel, but most of the first half, plus a few scattered scenes from the last half. Which means that writing 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo in the month of November would get me to the end of a rough draft of the whole novel, or at least very close.

So count me in. Starting at midnight (now), it's full writing speed ahead!

A Story is Born

from a notebook entry at 5:24 p.m. yesterday after a particularly satisfying work day:

After an exhausting week of mucking through swamps, I found myself fully in the flow today as I worked at my writing desk. Some days I get a taste of that ease, but it has been a while since I have had a day of feeling immersed in it. A day where everything comes together with little or no struggle. Where synchronicities fall like rain. The image that came to mind mid-way through my post-lunch walk was one of scattered pieces of matter swirling around a dark, chaotic universe suddenly and unexpectedly coming into alignment, as if some mysterious force were pulling them together into one big harmonious dance.

It feels so good, this balance of work and play, that I don't want to leave my desk. I just want to bask in this universal flow some more.

What do I have to show for it? A plot line with the story's key energetic markers and a clear idea of where the scenes I have written so far fit into that sequence. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it is. The direction (map) I have been longing for, praying for, seeking and stalking for months has emerged from what I thought was a collection of random scenes.

Today, Gabby was looking over my shoulder and walking by my side, rejoicing right along with me at every discovery.

Is this the birth I have been waiting for?

Gabby was born January 19, 2010 -- the day she first introduced herself to me in a notebook entry -- but her story was born today!  And it was pure magic.