Googling Generations Before

I’m not sure what inspired me, but a few nights ago I decided to google my grandparents. I was surprised to discover my mom’s dad has a Wikipedia page. He was a hotshot basketball player in his day. As I read the stats listed for him, and the brief details about the teams he played for, I just kept thinking how much more there was to this man. Over the years I’ve listened intently to the stories my mom has shared about him. Let’s just say, now more than ever, we can’t trust that what we encounter about people online encapsulates the entirety of who they are. I’m sure that’s not news to you. But I know for me, it’s a good reminder.

People can come across however they want to online. But everyone possesses layers and stories that don’t make it to a Wikipedia page—that don’t get showcased on a Facebook status update or an Instagram upload.

Craving the story behind the story is partly what inspired me to become a writer. I wanted to go there.

With my plots and characters. And trust me, my characters have been taking me there lately.

Years ago, I met a woman in a coffee shop who generously offered to trace my lineage for me. I was blown away by the time she invested and her extensive research. When she unraveled two large

sheets of paper, detailed with etchings, ancestors dating back to kings and queens (I knew I had royal blood), I was beyond impressed. The other night I dedicated time to study the names in my line. I made note of where my peeps came from, where they’d moved, even the occupations for some. And as awestruck as I was at the details, the dozens of family trees splayed before me, I couldn’t help but itch for the stories.

This sense of wonder has always been an intrinsic part of who I am. I’m not afraid to go there. I love how writing fiction has built a bridge for me, a means to go there through my characters. Because I happen to believe that going there is the most human thing about humanity. It connects us more than it separates, and it has the incomparable ability to open minds and to stretch souls.

Generations deep, I wonder who in my long line also appreciated the stories behind the stories.

A Note about Raising Girls

We celebrate three birthdays within eight days in the second half of January. I love raising girls. I consider it one of the greatest joys and one of the greatest callings of my life. There are days I’m convinced I’m blowing it entirely, then there are other days when I get glimpses of my girls growing into thoughtful and bright young women. Hope yet.

There are days of endless laundry and talking them down and building them up. There are days of exhaustion and feeling like nothing I do is making one lick of difference. One of my daughters is set on becoming President. I tell her to hurry up because this country needs her. I cried hard after the election and I’m still not at peace about who our country’s current leader is. Hope yet. The #MeToo movement is strong. Women are marching and my daughters are getting older.

I pray my messages are getting through to my girls—lessons like be brave, stand up for what you believe, kindness matters, think before you speak, your worth is and never will be in what others think of you, your life matters…

More than that, I pray I’m modeling all of the above for them. Because that’s the best way to transfer a message.

So I push through the dark days. I fight through the monotony. I refuse to give up if something matters to me. I forgive. I love. I support other women. 

Hope yet.

{The birthdays wiped me out...I will be back here blogging on Feb. 5th.}

Cheers to the Dreamers

Cheers to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. for inspiring others to dream. It’s my hope that we all will continue to follow fast and hard after our dreams and advocate for genuine leadership as we press on.

“Power isn’t control at all — power is strength, and giving that strength to others. A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger; a leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to stand on their own.”
― Beth Revis, Across the Universe

“As I have said, the first thing is to be honest with yourself. You can never have an impact on society if you have not changed yourself... Great peacemakers are all people of integrity, of honesty, but humility.”

― Nelson Mandela 

Collecting My Thoughts

It already feels as though 2018 has begun with quite a bang. #MeToo made a statement at the Golden Globes. The Winter Olympics is on the horizon. And local fans are going nuts about more than one hyped-up football game. This and after a long two week break my kids have no school because some sort of precipitation is expected to fall from the sky today.

Recently a friend coined the perfect word for what the better part of this first year after our move from New England to the Atlanta area has felt like for me. Wobbly. I picture a baby giraffe finding its footing. Helping my girls to acclimate has become a full-time job. I’m just now devoting more time to breathe and well, to collect my thoughts.

These thoughts include…

In the strength of the Time’s Up movement it’s my hope women will continue to be mindful about how we treat one another, that we’d choose to uplift and encourage before we judge or spew jealousy. Also, I loved how one woman at the Golden Globes recognized the men she worked with who exuded dignity and respect. I hope our culture continues to see the value in acknowledging the respectful as we bravely call out the degrading.

A new story is taking over. As I begin to hunt for a fitting home for a novel I’ve worked on for years, I’m plotting, letting a new cast of characters take up space in my brain. Writers feel me on this one. I know a novel is a keeper when the characters and the plot don’t let up. Before bed. During TV shows. In the middle of conversations. They insist on being heard. There’s a verse somewhere in the Bible about how if people were silent about God even the rocks and trees (I may be butchering this) would cry out. I sometimes feel this same sentiment toward my future books and characters. If I didn’t write them, they’d find a way to be written.

My brain is synapse-snapping with a lot of other thoughts, but the ones I mentioned tend to make the most loops, with the exclusion of family matters.

I hope you’ve begun 2018 thinking about what you want for the world. I hope you’re still feeding your dreams.

My Relationship with Words

“A word after a word after a word is power.”
― Margaret Atwood

Words have always possessed a mysterious and infectious power for me. I’m not exactly sure when this initially took root, but I imagine it dates back to many overlapping instances that each contributed to who I am today.

One of the first stories I ever wrote revolved around a boy who was assigned the difficult task of naming all that existed around him. His circumstances, his environment, events both painful and exhilarating, birthed the beautiful process of naming. It’s how he grew to understand the world. As a maybe-ten-year-old, I imagine this young boy’s story was closely linked to my own.

Or perhaps my fascination and reverence for words came alive during a rowdy dinner table moment. I had three older sisters and often our conversations tilted toward the profane. Wearing thin of this, my parents tried something new one night. They invited us to, on the count of three, yell out our favorite curse word. One. Two. Three. At maybe-ten-years-old, I let the F-word fly. Everyone else kept their traps shut so my F-bomb shot out like a solo grenade. I think my parents were intending to strip profanity of its brassy lure. I get it. But something else stuck with me that night. Words have impact.

Some words I wear like scars. Others I have tucked so far deep down inside me, they’ve ossified like bone because they’ve meant that much.

Words are exquisite. Volatile. Heartbreaking. Tender. Blades and balm. They evoke all kinds of reactions and interpretations. They are our primary way of communicating, of speaking both love and hate.

I’ve grown quite attached to words, the way they bend and shift inside my mind. The way I can spill them on a page, then fold them up origami-style, reveling how they change shape. And meaning. Words can mutate and blossom. They can multiply exponentially or shrivel within a second.

As I age, I’ve learned to be more careful with what I say, more discerning.

I share all of this to drive home one point.

Words brush against the sacred for me.

You can do a lot to me. Much has been done already. I rebound with fire in my soul.

But do not take away my words.

These words—they are how I understand this world. I am free in them. And I have every intention of staying that way.

“A word after a word after a word is power.”
― Margaret Atwood

*I’ll be back in a few weeks. Merry Christmas!

10 Things Anyone Can Benefit from Doing this Holiday Season

It’s a mad-rush time of year. Lines are long. Tempers flare short. Traffic stresses. To-do lists feel endless. These are the best times to keep perspective—to focus on the things that matter most.

I’m throwing out a few ideas that help me to stay centered and spirited during the holidays.

Hope they help you.

10 Things Sure to Benefit ~

Let Go of a Grudge

Aunt Mabel forget to include you on the holiday Christmas card. Nephew Troy didn’t invite you to the big event. Yep, you were hurt. You still are. You have every right to that hurt. You also have every right to let it go. Now’s the perfect time. Let that hurt solidify rock-solid inside you or witness the change in your attitude and countenance after you choose to let it disintegrate.

Get Outside

I walk my youngest to the bus every morning. It’s not a long walk, but it does take about five minutes. And every morning I’m grateful I go. I have no idea if she even wants me there anymore, but aside from giving us a few moments alone together, it feels good to move. I’m also in love with the stars I see when I look up.

Take a Break from Social Media

But then you wouldn’t be able to read this. So? I’d rather you reboot and spend a good chunk of time away from “liking” and binge-reading recipes you’ll never try. We’re losing something in our culture by spending so much time online. Take a piece of it back. I’ll be here waiting for you when you return.

Reflect with a Grateful Mindset

What went well this year? Who were you most thankful for? What new and impactful interactions did you have? Have you changed for the better?

Write a Handwritten Letter

Lost art. I know it. You know it. Imagine what a surprise it will be for someone to open their mail and read actual handwriting. Think of the things you could express.

Make a Christmas Gift for Someone

Maybe I’m hinting on this one. I’m a real sucker for homemade gifts. I could spend all day on Etsy (see point above about a social media break). There’s a real opportunity to tap into some creative juices when you don’t throw a credit card at everything. Resources are everywhere (says the woman who keeps painting on drywall she keeps finding in her basement).

Ask What Kind of Impact You’re Making

Through your language, how often you volunteer, the way your children look at you when you’re talking, how often people look to you for support…what has been your role for making this world different than it currently is?

Try Something New

Studies have proven when you launch into learning something new you unlock potential in other areas of your brain. A new recipe. Language. Subject. I kid you not, I’ve been learning a great deal while watching Narcos with my husband. Laugh all you want, but it’s inspired a lot of conversations between us.

Set a Goal & Stick to It

I happened to catch a show the other day when famous comedian, Tiffany Haddish said a fellow actor nudged her in the life-changing direction when he gave her money at a time she needed it and insisted she create a list of goals. There’s something to be said for direction. Motivation. Accountability. I also wanted to mention her because I love that she’s a unicorn on the cover of her book, THE LAST BLACK UNICORN. (Want to read.)

Make Peppermint Crack

My husband says we probably shouldn’t call it this, but I can’t help it. It’s so much fun to say. Think graham crackers, melted chocolate, sprinkled with peppermint candy. Look it up. You’ll thank me later.

Happy Holidays!

Book Crafting Lessons from a Bug

Let me preface this post by letting you know I’m not usually scared of bugs. Normally I don’t hesitate to squash ’em when I see ’em, but it was my turn to sleep in when one particular crawler, track-racing around my ceiling, caught my attention. Here’s something else, this little guy captivated my focus for a healthy duration. I watched, intensely curious (and still hazy from sleep), as he trekked almost entirely around the room. You may be wondering why I didn’t hop up and take the little guy down. I’ll tell you why. He’s perfect fodder for this post—that’s why.

Because that bug (I refuse to call it a roach because I’m still in denial that’s what it was and our bug guy comes this Tuesday, so it’s better for me if I just remain in denial) somehow led me to think about what makes a reader stay with a novel. And not just stay with it, flip pages with vested interest.

I came up with a few parallels between my bug buddy and a book that successfully pulls a reader along.

Fear. Of course not all books must make a reader afraid per se. But compelling novels will evoke emotion in a reader. They will make you feel something. I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe that roach-looking thing was going to go all ninja on me. So I studied it with hawk eyes. My interest was hooked in part due to my emotional reaction. Tension is gold.

Curiosity. I wanted to see where my bug buddy would go. Strong novels lure the reader deeper in when they include characters to care about and a plot that goes somewhere. Truth be told, my bug buddy could move it, move it.

Fascination. I’ve been an animal lover since I was a child. Animals of all kinds intrigue me. And it’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I’m pretty sure I’m the reason why we turn on Wild Kratts every morning before school. All this to say, I had to know how this creature would play his next move. Would it eventually fly? I’ve seen a few creepy-looking ones do that. Would it leap down onto the window and flit against as though caught in a zapper? Would it attack my nose with its flesh-eating legs or spit venom on my forehead? Novels that excel at hooking readers incite readers to ask questions—they encourage readers to care. Whether a reader realizes it or not, they are constantly assessing how a book compares to their life. We want to learn something. Be it simplistic in nature or highly involved, humans are learners at heart.

I know you want to know what happened. Did I eventually smash the sucker and toss it in the toilet? Did it live on to procreate and produce hundreds of other bugs festering in the vents of my home? This leads me to my final bring-it-home bug-related point . . .

The bug made a Houdini great escape. It leapt into some Christmas shopping bags and instantly became invisible. Both my husband and I were not able to locate the little guy. He fled, accomplishing one of the most important things to remember from this post. He embedded himself into my thoughts. The bug is gone. The novel read. And it stays with you. That, my friends, is an indicator of a compelling read.

Think of me tonight as I sleep with one eye open because the bug has done its job.