Summers that Have Been

I saw this bench on our way to dinner not far from where we’ll be moving in a few weeks. It has a spectacular view of the ocean. Throughout the night, I kept thinking about sitting on a bench with a message like that. Stirred a lot in me.

Do you see the message as simply sentimental or is there a lot more to it for you, too?

*post title from J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, I Sit Beside the Fire and Think

“I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.”

Preparing for the Big Move

I forgot how much goes into the pre-stages of preparing for a big move. It’s all coming back to me. Except this time we’re headed all the way across country, so we are making efforts to visit with the grandparents before we head west.

We sold the house, so now I guess we’d better find a new place to live.

I’m still relishing the special memories I have of my family spending time with my mom this past weekend. It’s fresh on my mind and heart.

For a comedic twist, I go to pick up our lively pup at the vet a little while ago only to discover she’s in heat. Did I mention I’m glad we sold the house?

Please forgive me if I’m a little MIA over the next few months. I’m still working on a novel I’ve been plotting and brainstorming for over a year, but this, doing this big move thing again after only a year, is taking a bit out of me.

Onward.

Personal Space

Have you ever been speaking with someone and they gradually inch closer and closer until you eventually feel compelled to move away? I distinctly remember a conversation like this in college. The more questions the guy asked, the more flexible I grew. It got to the point where I’d almost performed an impressive back bend. Think a scene right out of Incredibles.

Do you ever pay attention to personal space boundaries? Social cues? Body language?

Writing can become much stronger when an author considers the unique body language of each character. In turn, body language can exude so much about the internal life of a character.

One of my favorite parts about being a writer is the unashamed devotion I have to people watching. Studying close-talkers and mouth-coverers never ceases to fascinate, not to mention reveal. I’m constantly reading layers beneath what people are saying. 

My husband happens to be a hand-talker. Then there are the twitchers, the hair twirlers, the leg tappers, the knuckle-crackers, the lip-lickers, the sighers, and the pant-smoothers. With the same hearty sentiment as Tiny Tim, I say, God bless them, every one!

Roots?

My family is still on Hawaii time this morning as we dive back into routine and take on the day. There’s no way I could choose a favorite experience from our trip because so much of what we encountered the past few days has left a deep impression. A spattering volcano. A black sand beach. Raging waterfalls. A free-range horse ride, and stunning waves to name a few, not to mention the unplugged time together.

When we trekked down through a lava tube (a hole carved out underground from the fierce flow of lava) my eye kept gravitating to the roof of the cave-like tunnel. Long tendrils spiraled down over our heads. I asked our guide what the moss-like stringy roof décor was, conjuring stalagmites and glow worms in caves I’ve seen on nature programs.

The answer = roots.

Roots, of course. Because plants will grow where they will.

And I couldn’t think of anything else in the world that I can relate to more right now.

Why? Because we’re moving again. A year ago we signed the contract on our home in Georgia, and sometime in the next few months we’ll be signing a contract on a home in California.

I may not have roots planted in deep soil when it comes to a home town, but I have established memorable friendships and have garnered a strong sense of adaptability. I’m a pro at moving. But it comes with its own share of anguish, stress, fear, and raw emotion.

This song says it all . . .

Onward.

Story Ideas & the Toy Vending Machine

You know when you wrap up at the dentist and the hygienist offers you a shot at the itty bitty vending-type machine, and you get a little excited wondering what you’ll get? This process similar to what it’s like coming up with story ideas for me.

Ideas bombard me at any given moment. I keep a notebook by my bed, in my car, and on various counters of my house. Because they sneak attack—ideas do. And every time I weigh the validity of a story idea it feels like selecting something out of a toy vending machine. I’ve gotten better at figuring out which are the best toys to get.

Some days I end up with . . .

A bouncy ball

You think this is a good one at first. Mildly entertaining. Fun to zing up to the ceiling. It responds to your exertion. All good, right? But there comes a day when the bouncy ball is quarantined under a sofa and gets coated with so much dust it’s difficult to see what it ever was in the first place.

Silly string

Yay. It’s fun. It’s entertaining. For about two seconds, then it’s a mess.

A stuffed animal

This one is tricky because it likes to fool you. Look at me, I’m so cute. You can cuddle me and love me. Until I end up in the back of your closet because my weird eyebrows and overly stuffed stomach freak you out at night. Stuffed animals seems like such an ideal grab at first, but they’re quickly neglected. Especially the vending machine variety because they’re made cheap, prone to ripping easily and destined to bore.

A plastic slinky

Another initial cheer when an idea like this strikes. I take notes. I think I’ve got a good thing going, but have you ever tried a plastic slinky? They have the power of Eeyore before a nap. And they readily twist up. Not writer’s gold, the plastic slinky. Better to slink it back.

Fake teeth

I have a thing against chewed gum. And fake teeth. And anything that has the potential to collect saliva. Fake teeth also seem intriguing at first. Try ’em on. Have a laugh with them. Then what? They sit in some drawer gathering germs, forgotten.

It’s not until Silly Putty falls into my hands that I know I’ve got a real thing going.

Silly Putty

More like writer idea gold. When a concept like this sparks, I trust it’s transferred from something that’s left a great impression on me, such a lasting impression it leaves a stamp on me. (Think Silly Putty and a newspaper.) Then, and here’s the coolest thing, with an idea like this, I know I’m able to smash it up, bend it, and contort it into an entirely different shape—that impression. And if you’re like my kids were when they were little, you smack Silly Putty and leave it smashed onto your forehead for as long as humanly possible. And I don’t think I know a writer alive who doesn’t want people to have their stories smashed on their foreheads. Silly Putty is the holy grail of toy vending machine grabs. It’s the idea maker and giver all in one.

Authors, always root for the Silly Putty to fall into your hands.

*Blogging break. Be back on April 9^th.

Writing through the Chaos

When I was a kid I begged my mom to drive me to a neighboring town so I could audition to be a tightrope walker. She refused. Hmm…wonder why? I suppose it makes sense to me now that she had reservations about me joining the circus.

I’ve identified a good deal with a tightrope walker in my writing life lately. Major life events, as well as plenty of routine day-to-day demands swirl all around me as I work hard to maintain my focus. I decided to take a step back and assess what helps me to stay in line with my target goals and what presents the greatest distraction.

The following are six strategies that have kept me committed to writing and my writing goals during times of upheaval.

When life’s a circus . . .

I remind myself to breathe fire

Writing is a proven stress relief for me. I allow this mantra to echo in my mind as a reminder of what good it’ll do me to take some time to peck out a few thousand words. It calms my nerves, slows my heart rate, and has a magical way of putting my mind at ease. Breathe fire. Let out the stress.

I make things disappear

I poof the expectation I have to make a meal everyone will enjoy every night or vamoose the lunch appointment with that individual who has mastered the art of sucking the best out of me. I’m a magician when it comes to my schedule, keeping committed to only the things of utmost priority and making all the rest disappear.

I periodically look back with respect at the elephants in line behind me

I view this in two ways. There are times I need to reflect upon just how far my discipline has gotten me. Also, looking back at the elephants behind me is another way of telling myself other authors—great masters of discipline—have done this before—climbed these steps, kicked up to great heights. I’m inspired to keep at it when I remember to look back.

I clown around

When I’m in the midst of a chaotic life change, I make sure to seek out laughter. It’s a reward. Whether plotting a novel or drafting a key scene, I find creative avenues that are sure to spark laughter in me. It’s part of clinging to my sanity. And it’s just a fun way to live.

I’m okay if a few plates fall

I’ve learned the incredible freedom that comes with granting myself some grace. Plates will topple. It’s part of it. The key is to not obsess over what’s broken on the ground and to keep my eyes on what’s amazing above. I may not reach my word count. Or a kid might not get their favorite things in their lunch bag. The world will go on spinning.

I grab on to hands that are reaching out

One thing more than any other indicates where I land on the pride meter. Am I able to grasp on to others when they’re offering help or am I stubbornly insistent on doing it all myself? Flinging myself through times of turmoil without reaching for and hanging on to the help offered is a futile undertaking, a surefire way to run myself ragged.

Life is a circus right now. I want to be intentional about what I love. I want to write through the chaos.

I Am Here

Every morning I read something inspiring. It’s my way of starting the day off right. I happen to really like how Shauna Niequist communicates. Could be that she enjoys food, wine, and fellowship as much as I do, but I’m pretty sure it’s more about how she expresses herself with a blend of both vulnerability and motivation. I love when those two traits mingle.

I had to laugh at a devotion I read the other day. In her book, Savor, Niequist writes how she used to perceive her future as a rock only to watch it turn into a magic carpet, becoming a “slidy-wiggly thing, full of equal parts play and terror.” Nodding. Laughing more. She finishes the message with this, “There is a loosey-goosey feeling to the future now, both a slight edge of anxiety like anything can happen, and a slight bubble of hope and freedom that, well, anything can happen.” If ever I’ve wanted to color a big dot on a page and scream I am here, this was the page.

This is that moment for me.