Category Archives: perspective

One name lit my brain on fire

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It’s been a while since I have been in this creative space. When the lodge I work at closes for the season, my first desire is to get back into the kitchen to make weekly freezer crockpot meals for our local food bank, and, most recently, soup for our local Hospice. It is a true passion of mine.

But my other passion crept stealthily back into my consciousness after a name appeared in a Facebook post and captured my attention. I have been mentally preparing to write a new novel this winter, and, although I have begun writing the first chapter, I had no idea where this story would go. I rely on my characters to lead that charge. Once I saw this name, I knew this person was going to be an integral part of the story.

I have five white boards in my living room, all dedicated to absorbing and displaying information that will become important in the stories I write. When I scribble my ideas onto the boards, I have no idea how or when the ideas will take shape, I only know they will be a key to developing the twists in the story.

When this name wormed itself into my brain, I stood up and, in a panic, looked for my dry erase markers. I had recently cleaned my living room and moved the markers to a new spot in my house and could not remember where I put them. I became the human equivalent of a Roomba, bouncing off furniture and changing my trajectory. I became so agitated that I finally went into the kitchen and spewed my thoughts onto the white board on my fridge that usually contains my shopping list.

I freed the beast. The name is catalogued and waiting to share their story. I’m not going to mention the name in this post because that would defeat the shocking twist at the end of the story, even though I currently have no idea what that twist will be. That is for the character to tell me and guide me along as they tell their story.

My brain is on fire. I don’t see sleep in my near future. And, as always, I give my nod to the writing Gods who are constantly sending me bits of information to pique my curiosity and keep me looking for those subtle messages they send in the strangest ways.

Let it flow

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These are words I recently used as advice for a friend of mine. After texting this phrase to her, I sat back to let those words play over and over again, like a moving marquee in my brain, until my own message became clear. The words I shared with her also had a deep meaning to me.

I have sadly been neglecting the voices in my head. I have allowed myself to live each day in a perfunctory state of mind without paying attention to the creativity I have harnessed in the past and thoroughly enjoyed while listening to those voices. The list of to-be-written books in my brain has grown exponentially, but the compulsion to put in the work to bring those stories to life has waned.

I miss the joy I feel when I write. I miss those moments of lost time when I become so consumed by a story that hours go by before I am able to remind myself I am in my own home and I am not the central character of one of my stories, and living in a realm I have created.

I need to embrace the freedom of creativity, and I need to let it flow. I need to let it wake me up in the wee hours of the morning. I need to let it interrupt my work hours. And I need to let it add a few items to my grocery list.

Being able to create a story from beginning to end was never a gift I asked for on my Christmas wish list when I was a child. But being able to create a story from beginning to end is something I will cherish for the rest of my life. Let it flow!

Blurbs kill creativity

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There, I said it. The blurb that is required to be the summation of a novel will take every ounce of a writer’s creativity and send them into the darkest corner to ignore this required task and shudder in absolute horror. I’m sure I speak for other authors when I say, having to encapsulate 95,000 plus words in two or three paragraphs is torturous.

I can sit in front of a computer for months, listening to the voices in my head, and come up with an amusing, albeit disturbing, story. But having to create an ‘elevator pitch’ for this last book in my series is making my head spin. There is so much to say, and only so many words in which to say it.

‘Maniacal grandfather spawns a legacy of death and destruction’. It’s a good start, but it does not do justice to the end of The Relative Series. The five books leading up to this grand finale tell the tales of the people in his life who were affected by his choices, and the few words I have to describe this series is distressing.

I can only hope my brain will be able to create a log line that will draw the readers into the story and make them want to follow it from its beginning to its end. It has been an innovative journey for me, and one I hope you want to see to its conclusion.

As I spend the remaining hours of his day beating delicate words into submission, I can only hope the blurb I create will entice you to read this series of stories.

The end of another year

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This blog site has been sadly neglected, and I wanted to end the year of 2024 by adding something to this space with the hope it encourages me to spend more time here in 2025.

This past year has certainly had its ups and downs, but it has also given me many moments to reflect, and to understand how every single thing I have experienced has given me the opportunity to grow as a person, and as a member of my small community.

My greatest joys of 2024 have come from my family, my friends, and my ability to give back to the people in my community who struggle, for so many reasons. My freezer crockpot meal program that benefits the clients of our local food bank is my biggest joy. Every Sunday, from November to April, volunteers come to the lodge and help us prepare meals, and the reward of knowing that families will have a home-cooked, nutritious, meal once a week is so heart-warming.

Recently, I have been making soup for our local hospice, Andy’s House. Knowing that residents, families, and staff, will have a warm bowl of soup to enjoy during the most difficult time in their lives gives me a great sense of peace.

The calendar year of 2024 may have been filled with challenges, but it has taught me that I still have the resolve to rise to those challenges, and meet them head on. After many physical and emotional setbacks, I am ready to tackle 2025 with the strength and tenacity I had in my thirties.

To all of you still willing to follow my musings, I thank you. Whatever 2025 has in store for the world, I hope we can embrace it with compassion, understanding, and humility. I don’t usually make resolutions, but this year, I resolve to continue to be kind. Happy New Year to you all.

Soup’s On – Part 3

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Wow, if this blog and I were friends in real life, I would have understandably been given the cold shoulder for not holding up my end of the bargain in our shared communication. It has been over two months since I paid any attention to this cherished space and given myself permission to get lost in its warm embrace. I could blame a myriad number of outside circumstances, but the only thing I have to blame is myself.

It is so easy to become so consumed by life that we let our simple pleasures fall to the wayside. Between work, drafting novels, and spending time volunteering for our local food bank, I lost sight of the things that truly bring me back to myself. Creating things in my kitchen, especially soup, is the easiest way for me to feel grounded again. But, until today, I have regarded my kitchen with indifference. It had become just another room in my house, and I had forgotten how much of my heart beats within its four walls.

Not only does creating something from scratch remind me of my dad’s reckless abandon in the kitchen, making soup sparks a different part of my creativity, and sharing those soups with my family brings me great joy. Like my writing journey, I never know what the voices in my head will tell me to do, but almost every soup is something exciting and new. No two soups, even if I make the same thing again and again, are ever the same because I don’t follow a recipe. That is true freedom.

My writer’s brain has been blocked this week, but taking the time to put my skills back to work in my kitchen has dislodged the obstacle that was quelling my creative writing. There is a reason my characters like to cook, and that reason has reminded me to get back to basics and start from a familiar place to allow myself the freedom to put my trust back in the voices in my head. They are not controlling my brain, they are merely shining a light in a direction I had not anticipated.

Two soups are now being slow-cooked into submission in my kitchen, and the neurons of my writing brain have lifted their noses to deeply inhale the aroma of motivation. Everyone is familiar with the adage ‘stop and smell the roses’, but in my case it is ‘stop and smell the soup’. Just that brief moment of taking the time to allow the familiar smells to permeate my senses has opened a new door into the book I will soon finish writing.

When we were children, my mom’s way of letting us know dinner was ready was to yell ‘soup’s on’. Well, the soup is on in more than one way in my house. The crockpots may be filled with delicious ingredients, but my brain is now filled with a profusion of ideas to get this book finished. Soup’s on, indeed!

Even my exhaustion was exhausted

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Frayed nerves aside, this summer was one for the books. From not knowing if I would even have a job this year to spending countless hours researching all the Covid protocols for opening a family resort, this summer presented a profusion of challenges. Thankfully, we rose to meet them all and we had an extremely successful and safe season.

When you work in a fast-paced job, there are few moments you can stop and realize how exhausted you have become. It is natural to wake up in the morning, jump into the deep end of the day and swim with all your might until your feet finally touch bottom in the shallow end, allowing you to tiptoe up the stairs to escape the water. This was the summer of 2020.

Our respite, this year, came much earlier than it has in past seasons and my body responded very quickly to the welcome down-time. And when I say responded very quickly, I mean I crashed. I went from going to bed long after midnight and waking at 5:00 am with a brain loaded with scenarios for the day, to sleeping for a solid twelve hours because I could not keep my eyes open much later than 7:30 pm.

But with the exhaustion came the overwhelming pride in knowing that we had not only survived the Covid summer of 2020, we had succeeded in providing a safe and enjoyable environment for our guests. Though they were aware of all of the protocols we had in place, they were still able to relax, enjoy the change of scenery from the concrete jungle to cottage country and forget the turmoil that still existed in the world outside of our resort bubble. In the end, it was a win-win.

My exhaustion has since been remedied. A few nights of sleeping like a teenager has brought me back to life. The Covid demon that stole my ability to write has been vanquished and my creative life is back on track, largely due to a great mentor I had the honor of sharing ideas with during the summer and who continues to fuel my desire to write.

What I have learned from this summer is that exhaustion cannot steal the best parts of you. It may have the power to suppress your joy, your tenacity and your creativity, but it does not have the power to fully take those things from you. You must weather the storm until the sky clears and have faith the best parts of you will eventually be restored.

 

 

 

The Day Off I Absolutely Needed

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When you only get one day off a week, you must pack as much activity as you can into an exceedingly small window of time. Yesterday, I did the opposite. I changed my regular day off from Monday to Sunday to spend a quiet day at home and watch the stream of an online concert that was both mentally and emotionally soothing. (apart from the tears because the music was SO lovely)

I have mentioned in previous blog posts that I have become slightly obsessed (in a good way) with a musical theatre boy band called Collabro, a group who won Britain’s Got Talent in 2014. These boys have gone above and beyond during the mess that is 2020 and have constantly kept in contact with their fans through social media as well as other platforms. For the first time since March 15th, these boys put together a live, socially distanced, online concert for their fans and it was brilliant.

This year can only be described as an emotional roller coaster. I feel like I have been a prisoner in the first car, slowly chugging up the track and not being able to prevent the eventual crest over the hill, the rocketing descent into utter chaos and the visceral sensation of true fear. But each day I remind myself to remember the plateaus during the ride, the moments when I can catch my breath after the turbulence and the moments of serenity before the track pulls the car up the hill for another round of torture.

Despite the state of the world right now, I seized the day yesterday and fought my way off that roller coaster for a short time. I was able to spend the day at home and not talk about, or think about, Covid-19. I did not have to wear a mask or maintain a social distance from anything. For one day, my life felt somewhat normal and it was bliss. It was the day off I absolutely needed for me to get back to me.

 

Filling my cup

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This is the high season in the hospitality world for resort operators. While the start of the season was extremely stressful having to have so many safety procedures in place, we are succeeding on a daily basis and giving those who had been isolating in the larger urban areas a chance to socially distance while relaxing and unwinding in cottage country.

For most of the month of July, I have spent my energy filling cups that did not belong to me. My cup had a small reserve, enough to keep me putting one foot in front of the other and do my job to the best of my ability, but it waited to be filled with the things I needed to bring me back to me.

During the busy season, I get one day off a week. Yesterday was that day. Instead of going out for socially-distanced visits, I chose to stay home and fill MY cup. I allowed myself to sleep in. I cranked show tunes while I cleaned my house and I got back into my kitchen for the first time in a long time. I love to cook, but Covid-19 had all but squeezed the life out of every molecule that gave me the desire to create food, until yesterday. It was a small step making Vegetable Soup, but it was a step in the right direction.

Each day I make an effort to fill my cup is a day I am headed on the path back to myself. Each moment I choose to find the beauty and the fun in the things I did before the coronavirus took over the world is an achievement I find worthy of celebrating. Life may not be normal for a long time, but those moments I can bring as much normal and joy back to me is a small victory.

As I type this post you are reading this morning, several hummingbirds visited my feeder and my juvenile groundhog friend, Chunk, munched on the quarter of a watermelon I left out for him. Life really is about the small things and those little moments filled my cup. I’m ready to start another week and face the challenges that may loom in the distance.

 

 

 

 

How live-streaming helped me live again

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Covid-19 has taken a huge toll on me, not physically but, mentally. After cresting the half-century mark last year, I am blessed to be able to say I had never struggled with anxiety or depression. What I would have first described as a distraction slowly burrowed into my brain and riddled me with emotions and a sadness I had never had to deal with before. Having been an extrovert by day and introvert by night, I became overwhelmed by the isolation that came with being advised to stay at home and only go out in public when necessary.

Looking back on the past few months, I should have known I had been affected more than I care to admit. The things I loved to do in my spare time became a burden and I forgot the pleasure I felt when I cooked a wonderful meal for myself or sat down at my computer and let words cascade down from the heavens to help me write the novel I am working on that has been untouched since March. The passion I once had for my hobbies became non-existent and that made my sadness feel even more powerful.

But life has a way of kicking us in the pants and it chooses interesting ways to send us compelling messages that cannot be ignored. I spent forty minutes watching a live stream on Patreon by someone I greatly admire. During his video, he emphasized how important it is to put ourselves first and to take time each day to do small things that bring us back to ourselves. His message couldn’t have been louder or clearer. I had been so focused on things that had nothing to do with me that I had all but forgotten to focus on myself and the things that are important to ME.

I have not posted on my blog since April 27th. It pains me to say that. This space has always been my sacred space. This space has let me be myself and free the words that want to be freed whenever I feel the desire to let them loose. But those words have been muted by the blanket of stress I have let weigh me down. NO MORE! Today I take back my power. Today I let the words oppress my thoughts and unleash themselves. Today I will create a spectacular meal for myself because I am the number one thing in my life. If I don’t take care of myself, how will I ever have the energy to take care of anyone else? Thank you, Jamie Lambert. Your words did not fall on deaf ears.

 

Even my characters are self-isolating

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As a writer, I initially looked at this isolation as a great opportunity to add tens of thousands of words to the novel I am currently writing. I could not have been more misguided.

At the beginning of my time at home, my brain was overwhelmed by all of the information being shared on social media about Covid-19. I couldn’t open Twitter or Facebook and not become immersed in the deluge of articles and interviews. The fantasy world in my head retreated and took shelter behind all of the reality I forced myself to watch and my characters have since taken their self-isolation to an impressive level. They are proving the theory that complete seclusion is perfectly attainable.

As many times as I have tried to convince them we could meet at an acceptable social distance, they have vehemently refused to leave their self-captivity and have extinguished all of the light bulbs they historically have used to send me ideas. My invitations for Zoom meetings have gone unanswered and their exhaustive silence has become deafening.  I am stymied.

But the absence of their voices has not made me doubt my ability to finish this book, it has only made me put my reality ahead of my imagination, for now.  I know those characters have been sending text messages to each other, formulating their plans to come out of confinement because they want their stories to be told. The strength of their voices at the beginning of this book makes me believe they want their lives to be forever etched onto the pages they are helping me to write.

So, I will wait. I will sit at my laptop and be ready for the moment the first voice timidly comes out of their self-imposed incarceration and begins to speak again. Until then, I will formulate more plot lines and hope all of the characters agree with the direction the story may follow. And if the trajectory of their adventure is incorrect, I’m sure they will, once again, wake me in the wee hours to tell me how wrong I was and to set the directive of the scenario back onto the course it was meant to follow.