Taking Time

college applications                 homecoming                            flag football                basketball

            SATs               final edits                    potty train the pup             class changes

driving permit                         transcript requests                   update kitchen cabinets

            soccer games                           ortho appointments                 haircuts            FAFSA          

taxi girls to school + everywhere else on earth           clean fridge            groom dogs

Here’s a limited picture of all that’s going on in the coming month for me. If you look closely, there’s not a whole lot of “me” in the mix. Because I anticipate these activities will wipe me out, I’m guarding my time. I won’t be back to blog until October.

I’m grateful my husband and I got away briefly over the weekend to celebrate twenty years of marriage. Here I am getting ready to go out on the water—one of my favorite places to be.

Hope you have a great September. Practice self-care and be kind.

Small Improvements

Something was bugging me. That’s usually where the inception for a new project begins. This bathroom was fine before I jumped into fix-it-mode, but that’s just it . . . fine wasn’t going to cut it anymore. (Like how I present an extra messy portrayal for the "before" pics?) ;-)

I’m constantly looking for ways to beautify my surroundings—ways to improve. This minor project ended up costing me next to nothing. I already owned all the paint for the cabinets, mirror, walls, and the floor. Pinterest was my friend, teaching me to be brave enough to paint tile.

Over the course of a few months, a few baby steps at a time, and this bathroom got a makeover. It’s nothing to scream wow over, but it makes me smile. And it feels fresh and updated.

Now if my girls would only stop trying to create toothpaste art on the counter.

Working on a project lately? Feel free to share pics.

Demo Day

Remember the bunk bed in my youngest daughter’s room, the one that made it impossible for me to paint the entire room so I ended up painting these stencil designs on her wall? I blogged about this several months after we moved in. And my girl liked the stencils. Until she sort of didn’t. She’s had a new color for her walls in mind for months. A light shade of charcoal. The stencils had worn out their welcome.

Normally I might not be so accommodating. I’d likely throw a typical mom-response at her, something like, “Well, you’ll have to live with it for a while.” But here’s the thing. She did live with it for a while. She was a trooper and agreed to have the bulky bunk bed in her room even though she never wanted it. And I happen to love to paint. So . . .

Charcoal gray it is. I painted everything I could around the massive bunk bed, then when it was clear this wasn’t a priority project for anyone else in the family, I got to work. I dissembled the top portion of the bed. Taking it apart took hours. The bolts and screws were seriously secure. I got to the last screw and I almost lost it. It stripped out, making it a real task to remove the last awkward piece of wood. Of course. On the last screw. Then I remembered the hammer I stored in the bathroom cabinet after sealing the paint can lid tight. I channeled Chip Gaines and went nuts on the remaining wooden slat. It was both therapeutic and a little scary. It felt great. A real “Here’s Johnny” moment. But the slat wouldn’t budge.

Until . . .

After a good ten minutes of whacking the daylights out of the bed, I took a deep breath. I reconsidered the direction I was wailing on the wood. I changed the position of my hammer, as a fresh idea tickled the base of my skull. With a healthy whack, and a new game plan, I thought about the vulnerable points in the wood. Then I launched my last attack. And the last piece of wood gave way.

I’m free to paint the rest of the room today. And all is right with the world. Nothing a little spontaneous demolition and paint can’t fix.

*Went a little lighter w/ the color. It’s called Portsmouth Landing. Will post pics when room is finished.

5 Ways to Jumpstart a Stalled Plot

Writing a novel can be a deliciously unpredictable process. Characters can spring surprises on me. Plots can wind in fantastic new directions. But there’s one thing I can pretty much rely on when working on a fresh idea. Somewhere, and at some point, when I reach the middle, the book will threaten to stall. It will dig its heels in and obstinately refuse to take another step.

Good thing I’m aware of this pattern. Because it’s forced me to learn how to deal with it. I have several coping mechanisms for this type of stubbornness. One is to plot out the book well in advance. However, there are times even that doesn’t work and then I have to rely on the other tools I’ve collected through the years.

Here are five ways to get the heart of your plot beating again when it starts to flatline . . .

Let Your MC Loose

Think of the craziest thing your main character might possibly do. Come up with a list. Of course these actions shouldn’t be entirely out of the blue, but tied to their personality, their wants, desires, losses, etc. Then, consider how instead of that bizarre and insane act, your main character could carry out a modified version of it. For example, instead of flinging himself off a roof, your main character could throw a highly valued item off a roof or something else that would create emotional consequences in his life.

Imagine a Window

In my years as an avid runner, I used to pass by people’s homes and wonder about their lives. Do they eat dinner together? Do they argue? Who goes up to bed first? I’d create all kinds of scenarios in my mind. Sometimes the middle of a book requires an author to take a step back. To adopt a unique vantage point. Behold your novel and your characters as though you’re on the outside of their house, looking in. Stalk them if you must.

Kill or Introduce

Some middles beg me to get ruthless. There’s nothing left to do but kill someone off. Other times it’s not necessary for me to be quite so brutal. Instead, I invite an entirely new, albeit significant character into the mix. Think the mother-in-law in Big Little Lies.

Lift the Candy Higher out of Reach

Know what means the most to your character. Then keep it just out of reach. Or tease it close enough to touch, then pull it away. This creates beautiful tension. It’s all about understanding the acuity of timing.

Press the Button

Along the same lines as dangling candy, a wonderful way to add more tension to a plot is to make your character hurt. I know, so mean. But it works. And as the author are the one with the best insight about what will hurt the most. You have access to all the memories, the scars, the fears, and the insecurities. The middle is the perfect place to press all the right buttons to make it feel like things may never go right for the hero. Cruel as it may seem, pressing the button might be exactly what your plot needs to get a move on.

It’s been given the unfortunate nickname of Sagging Middle. Novelists, don’t disgrace your book like this. Don’t let it deserve that name. Imbue life back into the middle. Get creative. Break from formulaic writing. Free up the plot so it can breathe again.

My Way Through

Every so often I come across a book that moves me in a memorable and transformative way. I think there’s a reason I was inspired to read ONCE MORE WE SAW STARS by Jayson Greene during this season of my life. In this poignant memoir, a father draws a map for the grieving soul as he recounts, through raw and honest narrative, the heartbreak of losing his young daughter.

Greene finds language I wasn’t sure existed as he details the agony and release I’ve been experiencing in these past months after losing my sister. Through his story, I’ve received layered and comforting truths, truths like I’m not alone, and others are walking, have walked, and will walk this rocky terrain.

Someone recently asked me why I’d want to read a book like this, questioning if this kind of story would just make me sadder. Yes and no. It’s a good sad. A necessary sad. Emotion that connects me with humankind and strengthens every empathy bone in my body. Books like this are my way through. And I’m grateful beyond words for Greene’s vulnerable portrayal of loss and life after loss because it’s become an unexpected and beautiful pathway on my own road to healing.

The Most Helpful Writing Advice

I’ve been hard at this novel writing gig for twelve years now. I’ve lost track of how many books I’ve written, not to mention how many I’ve started.

Ready for my wild and crazy two cents on how to improve your craft?

I can sum it up in one word because one word has been doing it for me for a dozen years.

Read.

Get your hands and eyes on as many books as possible. Glean an understanding of what works and what doesn’t. Learn story. Read for pleasure. Read for instruction. Expose yourself to multiple genres and styles.

I’ve always thought it’s the coolest thing that every time I pick up a book I can call it research.

Even in these sleepless days of puppy raising, I’m finding time to read. It’s important to me and it’s an imperative practice for writers who want to improve.

A little bonus literary fun . . . the cover of the book I’m reading matches my reading glasses.

*In other news, I have my suspicions my puppy is fake-peeing when I take her out. She squats so I’ll lavish her with praise, but I think she’s mastering the art of faking me out.

Everything My Puppy Reveals about Me

I brought home another baby last week. After months of discussing it, we committed to becoming a family home with two dogs. Meet our puppy, Bear . . .

  

Going on little sleep and a lot of coffee, I’ve been thinking about the kind of influence Bear has had on me in the past eight days. In this puppy stage, she requires a great deal of work, however she’s a pure joy and worth every second I invest in her.

The following are a few reflections I’ve had as I take on the task of raising another puppy.

Bear has brought to light . . .

How I respond to inconveniences

Cleaning up accidents is not my idea of a relaxing summer task. It’s tedious, humbling, and no one ever feels like doing it. But I have a choice how I go about it. Complain with every squirt of Resolve or suck it up and just do it.

How well I function on little sleep

Ha! Let’s just say I’ve been freakishly forgetful lately. Naps are my best friend. I have to be mindful to keep my fogginess and my irritability in check. This is familiar ground. Babies put me through the same test.

My preferred method of teaching

I’m a researcher. My Google feed must have forty different puppy-type searches on it. I want to learn all I can, then adapt my style with what works. I’ve always believed in the philosophy there is no one way. For me there are forty ways squished into one workable, effective way that often adjusts in time.

How willing I am to admit when I’m wrong

I started off following an old school method of raising a pup, only to do a little fact-finding and quickly shift my application. I was wrong. I didn’t like the first way. So I changed.

My ability to trust a little one to learn—to let go of perfection and control

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told myself she’ll get it over the past week. She will though. I wouldn’t expect a baby to act like a young child. Growing up is hard work. It’s my job to guide Bear through that in a safe and loving environment. That’s the fun part, really—watching her get it and releasing control.

How well I’m able to step back and allow others to work out conflict resolution

We knew this transition could be interesting because we threw two dogs in the mix. They need time to figure out where they stand. There’ve been some dicey moments. 

Then again, there are times we catch them chilling out together like this . . .

  

Most of all Bear has shown me how much love I still have left to give.

This Sign Is an Octopus

I recently wrapped up an intense round of edits and what do I feel like doing? What else . . . painting. After spending weeks completely absorbed in one of my books, I find I need a bit of a breather—another creative outlet. But then I have all this untapped energy and I have to put it somewhere. So yesterday I cleaned through our garage and found this sign I bought years ago.

When we first moved to California, I decided I wanted to decorate with a coastal theme. We’re a hop, skip, and a jump away from the beach so this sign grabbed my attention right away. However, something about the color felt “off” to me. It’s vibrant and I like that, but not quite right for the room I was considering hanging it in.

Then something strange happened. The sign told me it was an octopus, and that it too wasn’t in the mood to be coral-colored any longer. It gave me full permission to strike my wand and brush a new color over it.

Ta da . . .

I like octopus signs.

Happy 4th!

Onward

We’re a soccer house. Every time the U.S. Women’s team takes on a new opponent in the World Cup we are glued to the TV, cheering them on. Over half of us in my family have played at one time or another, so we know the sport well. {My older sister was also a superstar soccer player, earning All-American several times, meeting Pele, and playing for UConn.} We act like commentators, sharing our reviews of stand-out plays and particularly dirty fouls. You’ll often catch me talking to the TV, gesturing wildly. Years ago I had the privilege of taking my girls to watch the U.S. Women play against Colombia in Connecticut. It was a freezing, but memorable experience.

It’s edge-of-your-seat exciting whenever a game is on.

Even more, I’m proud of the team. I’m proud of what they’ve done for women’s soccer. I love what they’ve done for women in general.

Go U.S. Women! We’re rooting for you all the way!

Creative Kindness

I’ve become keenly aware of something in the past few weeks. Some people have a real gift with words and others, well, they falter and flounder. I’ve fallen into both categories when facing someone who’s recently lost a loved one. Words are delicate. And hard to shape sometimes.

I’ve felt a particular gratitude for friends who’ve shown up in creative ways recently. They’ve supported and loved through unexpected means. Their efforts have really resonated with me. Offers to hike. A glass blown ornament in the mail from one dear friend, and from another a bookstore jigsaw puzzle (I tap into my inner nerd and go nuts with jigsaw puzzles). Others threw out book recommendations at a time I was desperate to get hooked on a new novel. Another friend, and fellow author, read one of my books and encouraged me regarding the concept, peppering me with questions born of curiosity. Her investment in my work accomplished something profound. She pulled me back to what I love—a key reason I feel rooted here.

Friends and loved ones have been generously kind. Thoughtful and consistently caring. The kindness has come in all forms. In my weakness, I’ve accepted all of it. And I’ve learned something. Bestowing creative kindness to someone who’s hurting is one of the most impactful decisions we can make. They’ll remember that kind of love.

I know I will.

Six Things Writing & Grieving Have in Common

Losing someone you love has a way of stirring up a lot of reflective thinking. In this quiet season of letting go I’ve been thinking about some of the ways grieving is similar to what I do every day—crafting novels.

Here’s what I came up with . . .

Writing & grieving—

Force you to think about intention and purpose

Whether it’s mourning the loss of a loved one or hunkering down to edit, you spend a good deal of time considering why you or your character exists. Little things start to matter. Like simple acts of kindness. Thought is given to all that came before, every season of life that led to this present place. It’s a soul-rubbing process. An awakening and embracing of what’s to come.

Challenge you to take a step back and look at the world differently

One shot. You consider this as you awkwardly stumble through the reality of saying goodbye to a person or a manuscript. One shot at life. One shot with a novel. Making your words and actions count becomes exponentially more important as this reality settles in.

Require you to get honest with emotion

You ugly cry. You dive deep with the characters, rooting to the real reasons they behave the way they do. Grieving and writing draw out our weaknesses and our vulnerabilities. They push, prod, and poke until we’re raw with pain, driving us to the point we’re willing to let go. There’s a certain surrender grief and creativity share, it’s a beautiful release that feels all at once agonizing and wonderful.

Bring out the historian in you

You research a town. Expressions on people’s faces. You drag out photos of your loved one. Old letters. You take that walk down memory lane. You create a memory lane as an author and student of your characters. Things and moments gone by gain a fresh pertinence. A newfound appreciation.

Conjure thoughts about character and influence

Who do you want to be? Who do you want your characters to be? These questions take on more relevance. How will I impact others? What imprint am I leaving on the world?

Shed light on the unnecessary so easily mistaken as necessary

The picture you forgot to post. The comeback you never got to use. The unwashed dishes or dusty floors. As soon as you commit to life as a writer, if you pay close attention, you’ll identify distractions creeping up from everywhere. These life interferences dress in bold colors when you’re grieving. There’s nothing sneaky about them. Whether you’re working on a book or hurting in the aftermath of a death, the unnecessary will hover. The unnecessary is patient. A constant. There’s nothing quite like losing someone to help you filter through what’s important and what’s not.

This is why I love fellow writers. We’re not what I would call shallow people. We go deep. We dare to be vulnerable. Sure, sometimes we can be a little intense or caught up in our own imaginary worlds, but it’s so much fun leading you into those worlds with us.

My friend Kim Hooper’s book TINY releases this week. I’ve read her work before and she has a way of depicting characters in such an honest and compelling manner. I cannot wait to read this one! I hope you’ll check it out. Kim is a seriously gifted author.

Legacy

In light of the recent loss of my sister I find myself reflecting more than usual. I ask hard questions. It hits me that there’s not a moment to waste. With this in mind, the other night while at dinner, I asked my husband and my three girls what sort of legacy they want to leave. Their answers fascinated me.

One of my daughters surprised me by saying she wanted to be known for being different. It reminded me of something I’d say when I was her age. Something I can even see myself saying now.

Life has been a battering ram lately. Negativity and bitterness slam into me from all angles. I’m determined to fight against it—to tap into a strength I could never conjure on my own. I’m determined to take a different path from the one that tempts me toward anger, jealousy, despair, rage, and all things that distract from a more loving way to live.

The flowers above are growing in our yard. The other day I couldn’t stop looking at them. At first I believed the yellowish-orange roses somehow mysteriously appeared as part of the pink plant. An eye-catching enigma. But upon closer observation, I saw a plant with three stems, three sun-colored roses rising up from the center of the pink plant. It’s those golden flowers that draw the eye. They make the difference. In an instant I figured out why these particular roses captured my attention so substantially. These flowers are an excellent representation of the legacy I want to leave.

The Goodbye Makes the Journey Harder Still

My sister Holly passed away last week. I’ve been grieving hard since I heard the news. Words elude me, hiding in a thick fog.

When I was around ten or eleven she told me she always thought of me whenever she heard this song. . .

Songs are especially poignant for me in this time of grief. Much of the soundtrack of my youth revolved around music Holly admired. I miss her. I miss who she was and who she could have been. I miss all of it.

Still, I cling to hope as I simultaneously learn how to let go.

*I hope you have a peaceful Memorial Day. Make memories and be kind to loved ones. Life is fragile.

How to Become an Anything Girl 101

A few weeks ago I told you about Cadence, a little girl of maybe three or four who confidently introduced herself outside of a mall bathroom, “Hi, I’m Cadence, and I can do anything.” In ways she could never imagine, this child and her gotcha-world stance stuck in my head.

I aspire to adopt Cadence’s attitude toward life every day.

Then there are days I end up sending my daughter texts suggesting the life of a prairie dog could suit me just fine. Whenever the world starts to royally freak me out (I get flipped off by a road ragey driver, or I make the mistake of watching the news for too long) I begin to fall seriously in love with the idea of never stepping foot outside my home again. Prairie dog living sounds ideal. Hide out, then pop up from time to time just so everyone knows I still exist. That pretty much defines how I’ve handled social media lately. After my confessional text to my kid about wanting to be a prairie dog, within seconds we both shot each other an identical GIFs. #wildfun

Here’s the truth: I’m not merely an Anything Girl wannabe. She’s inside me, and like the prairie dog analogy, how I remind the world I haven’t petered out in some hole somewhere, the Anything Girl pops her head up from time to time. It’s a welcome surprise. I like her. She’s ballsy, uninhibited, and

her voice matters. (I’m enjoying addressing myself in 3^rd person a little too much. Stopping now.) In time I’ve learned how to coax the Anything Girl out of me on a whim. If you’re intrigued and tempted to show the world the Anything Girl in you—pay attention.

The following are all things I’ve learned to create the best environment for the Anything Girl in me to thrive—

• The sooner you embrace life is a tangled knot of pain and joy, the better off you’ll be.
• Learn how to not take rejection too personally.
• Establish a circle of trust (nod to Robert De Niro in Meet the Parents). Stick close with the people who encourage you through hard times, celebrate your accomplishments, and those who’ll remain loyal to you through all things. At all times.
• Laugh at yourself as frequently as possible.
• Don’t stuff your emotions.
• Don’t embarrass easily.
• Be willing to try new things and adventures even when they (not if because they will) scare you or you’re afraid.
• Do not—by any means—ever—compare your life and losses and insecurities and dreams and wants and hurts and chin hair or knobby knees or cellulite to anyone else. We are all supposed to be different. And only you can do you (feel free to make a T-shirt with that on it…giving you full permission here).
• Try hard not to control or judge others. Reflect upon and seek to improve your own sloppy ass life first before you rattle on about someone else’s mess. Even better, don’t entertain yourself with rumors or gossip at all.
• Swear occasionally. (See don’t stuff emotions above.)
• Get with your spouse often (you’re welcome, SGM).
• Don’t let the past or your idea of what the future is supposed to look like have more power than your present.
• Find something to be grateful for every day, even if it’s just that you didn’t have to clean toothpaste art off the granite countertop in the kids’ bathroom for once.
• Practice kindness with strangers. And loved ones.
• Seek to understand. All people. All things. And consider staying quiet until you reach a point of deeper understanding.
• Do not consider anyone of a higher or lower worth. Treat everyone with an equal measure of compassion and love.
• Admit faults readily, but use discretion online. Trolls will slay you. Even people who are otherwise reasonably cordial have a tendency to grow claws when their fingers reach the keyboard. Guard your heart. And your head space.
• When your thought life gets exceptionally ugly remind yourself of the limited time you have on earth. I often hear Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman in my head telling me it comes down to a simple choice. Get busy living or get busy dying.
• Don’t be content with who you were yesterday. Every day strive to improve.
• Understand—I mean really understand that your worth does not come from others’ impressions of you or how tidy or messy your life is.
• Know you will be tempted more times than you could possibly conceive to give up on a dream—that thing inside you sense you’re on earth for. Don’t give up. 

I’m sure I’ll be writing more posts like this one. I hope the list above inspires you to be an Anything Girl (or Guy). The world needs more thoughtful and purpose-focused people leading others toward effective and healing change.

You ready?

*My prairie dog kid ready to hit the dance floor at prom this past weekend—an Anything Girl in training. And if you look closely, you might spot the shadow of a rare enormous prairie dog on the left.

Kermit Is No Joke

I’m not an artist. However, I love to paint. My mom knows this and she surprised me this Mother’s Day by sending me six canvases to try my hand on. (Isn’t that cool my mom sends me gifts for Mother’s Day?) Immediately one of my daughters came up with something she wanted me to paint.

Kermit the Frog. With a cowboy hat. Wearing a Supreme shirt.

Always up for a challenge, I got to work. I sketched, erased, and sketched some more. I dabbed my brush in greens of this shade and that. I even figured out how to tackle the hat (this is turning into a Dr. Seuss post).

The final product –

 Looks exactly like Kermit, huh? ;-)

The point is that I had a fun creating this. I didn’t hold back out of fear. I simply went for it. And I learned that cartoonists have real talent.

Have you tried something out of your comfort zone lately?

Creativity, Craft & Cadence

Hiatus is over. I’m back. After spending some much needed time in self-reflection and goal-setting, I came to some conclusions about this blog.

I’m here to stay.

And I know what I want to communicate.

From this Monday on, I aim to dissect the many facets of creativity. I’ve been paying attention. In particular to the way I choose to live day-to-day, and I’ve noticed one common theme in my life. An undeniable thread sewn through everything that I deem important—everything that excites me. I’m attracted to (and quite possibly addicted to) all things creative. For this reason, I’m going to be highlighting all aspects of creativity that catch my eye, set me sail, or light my thoughts on fire.

I’m also going to continue to share what I’ve learned when it comes to the craft of writing. Last Friday, I completed the rough draft of my sixteenth (maybe seventeenth?) novel. I’ve lost count. I’ve worked with some fantastic agents and have received hopeful feedback from readers and editors through the years. What’s more, I’ve tucked all kinds of helpful hints in the folds of my brain. And I want to pass along the goods.

Finally, I’ll be writing about girls like Cadence. The other day, while my seventeen-year-old and I were checking out prom dresses, a little girl came up to me outside the store. Boldly, she beamed up at me. “Hi, I’m Cadence, and I can do anything.” It was a random introduction. I’m not sure what it was about me that made this girl want to say hello. And say it with such assured confidence. Nevertheless, her greeting stuck with me. That’s when I realized I want to write about anything girls—females who live their lives with the hope of bettering the world—of making a lasting impact on others.

It is with great sadness that I share the world lost an anything girl this past weekend. Rachel Held Evans kindly wrote a guest post for this blog nine years ago. In the years since, I’ve watched her career skyrocket and her voice empower many. She inspired me in ways I could never find the words to communicate. I’ve hidden away a lot in recent years, tucked inside myself. I suppose there are many reasons for why I’ve done this. Rachel led the kind of life that reminds me how beautiful and poignant it is to speak our truth. To stand up for something we believe in. And to leave a legacy of, above all things, love.

“It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I’m not going to be silent.”

Madeleine Albright