Having a full time job has made me into one of those people who just can't do it all. This blog has suffered most. I've worked hard on it for years and appreciate every single one of my readers, so my New Year's Resolution will have something to do with establishing a regular schedule here again.
Looking back on the year at this holiday time has brought to mind all the travels (and accompanying emotional ups and downs) my husband and I have done since we met. And so, enjoy photos that represent Christmas through the past six years.
2008
We had been living together in Massachusetts for half a year when Christmas 2008 rolled around, and it was a small apartment and so had only a tiny potted Christmas tree at home. But we had love, and my husband was determined to fulfill a promise he'd made sooner rather than later, so we also had Mickey! At Disneyworld! An unbelievable Christmas.
2009
Christmas 2009 was bare-bones. We had moved to Pennsylvania only days before. But at least we had love, and Saxophone Santa (still our favorite holiday toy). See Saxophone Santa in action here and with a friend here.
2010
The following year, we had placed our stuff in storage and moved in with my gracious sister-in-law in Arizona the previous month. It was the beginning of an explosively creative period in all aspects of my life, but I wasn't aware at the time. Holiday 2010 is represented by fake snow for the wondering Arizonans at the Winterhaven lights display.
2011
By 2011, we had moved to our own apartment in Arizona and both had interesting jobs, and I was writing like crazy. But we hadn't been able to get our stuff out of storage, so at home, we decorated a tree with candy canes and a beautiful compass rose ornament I received from an author who had already become a good friend. This year, we had even more fun at the Winterhaven display because we found this gorgeous Christmas rhino!
2012
We moved from Arizona to Georgia in 2012, but didn't make it to Christmas there. Instead, we went from the boiling pot of water that was summer in Georgia to the icebox winter of Illinois. This was the Christmas my husband realized that I own four giant tubs worth of Christmas decorations, enough to decorate our tree several times over. My mom got me started when I was a kid, and you can't throw away memories like that. I accomplished the amazing feat of finishing my first novel, Seven Noble Knights, in November 2012, and it's commemorated with the cake and the thumb drive, and the new ornament.
2013
Christmas 2013 was probably the most surprising of all, as my husband and I had been living in a hotel in North Carolina since May. We never expected to stay there for so many months, and yet again, our stuff was in storage. We got a little tinsel tree and set it on top of the dehumidifier I insisted on earlier in the year. Those North Carolina summers might be even wetter than the one in Georgia!
2014
And that brings us to this year! In the photo, our tree with a lot, but not all, of the ornaments from the four tubs, stands out in front of a medieval Christmas banner I picked up at a museum in New York City and stacks and piles of other memories. Note the Fight for Rhinos sustainably sourced wooden ornament, front and center.
Finally, this photo was taken on Thanksgiving Day, but the bare trees, the church tower, and roofs covered in snow scream Christmas.
Coming soon: a guest post from outstanding author Kristin Gleeson!
Some of the best ladies in the world, my critique group.
We left our saga in Arizona, an epic place, to be sure. I was involved with that critique group in person the entire year and a half we were in Arizona and made it through about half of the first draft of Seven Noble Knights. The worst thing about leaving Arizona was the possibility that I would no longer be involved in the group. Luckily, these are some of the kindest, most generous people in the universe, and I've been allowed to Skype in every month since I left despite a key clause in our bylaws that specifies this as an in-person group.
Skype at its best can really give you a sense of personality. They added an in-person member when I departed, and I'm amazed to think I've never actually been in the same state with her, much less the same room. Based on that cyber-support, I finished Seven Noble Knights. What I most remember about living in Atlanta is writing the last chapter of Part I and the next several chapters getting away from me in length and complexity. Should I devote so much space to the migrating sheep? Which details of all the research I've done really develop the characters?
I tried to get into writers groups in Atlanta (the South is so wordy, it seems everyone writes!), but was daunted by two thoughts: Would I have to start over the critiquing of the entire novel? And I knew in my heart I was not in the right place and we would be leaving soon, so there was little point in investing as much effort as is necessary to find a group that really works.
The unnamed town where we lived in Illinois was a cultural wasteland that required a car to get anywhere, so the Arizona ladies were my only lifeline to the outside world. My most vivid memory of Illinois is scribbling the last few lines of Seven Noble Knights by hand because they wouldn't come while I stared at the screen. Oh, and completing it before the Mayan Apocalypse.
Then came North Carolina. You'll forgive me if I never felt settled in there, since we never lived anywhere but a hotel. I thought it might be the right place for us, and tried out a couple of critique groups, but while some of the writing was really enjoyable for me, barely one or two people ever seemed to understand what I was trying to do, whether it was historical or contemporary. Several months in, I saved myself the frustration by no longer attending. I had Skype to fall back on!
The reason I'm thinking about all this is that I'm now in a place I don't intend to leave within a year, so my best way to put down roots is to find a critique group. I have time to find one that works! I'm shopping around, but have already become a regular at one that meets every week.
Meanwhile, the writer the Arizona group added when I left has herself left, throwing all five of us into surprise and grief. She made her exit saying that the group wasn't giving her the regular discipline she needed. Not everyone has been able to submit writing on a regular basis, while she has been churning out the pages in an admirable fashion. I thought for a moment that this might mark the end of the Arizona group, and I was terribly sad, because it's become about much more than writing. It's a group of friends who all like to write and who support each other through many of the other things life throws at us.
Luckily, the remaining members agreed with that part. I'm still in transition, and deciding how to use all the wonderful local resources in order not to feel alone in this writing thing. But at least I haven't lost my best gals. Further critique groups may come and go, but Low Writers are forever.
So Illinois hasn't been working out very well for my husband and me. It's not much of a surprise anymore. We're taking positive steps to better our situation, but when I think we might have to move (again) and when I'm tired of the waiting, I listen to this song. My translation here is perhaps rudimentary, but anyone who's done any wandering should have a good sense of what this is about.
The Wanderers by Manolo García (from Los días intactos, 2011)
I am my own inner slave
who staunches his wounds by biting his fists.
I am a previous stranger,
a tightrope walker who unleashes false skies.
And today
when this uncontrolled fire devastates all thought,
today, when I am a prisoner of my desires,
I’m far from wanting to be the stoic I once was.
There will be a place for the wanderers,
there will be time to wander.
Today I think about the song of the emigrant,
of the residual tourist.
Now that the pumping of my blood
is getting strangely discouraged,
today I think about the song of the emigrant,
of the trapped people who struggle in their exile,
of the people who run.
A city full of amazed people,
that would be me, asking for help.
Asking for help, with an outstretched hand,
looking for plenitude, that elusive animal.
A rudimentary destination of bone and orange light,
that would be me. A pitcher in space who needs
clamps and roots is who I would be today.
And
today, when an uncontrolled fire
devastates
all thought,
today,
when I’m a prisoner and desire you,
I’m far from wanting to be the stoic I once was.
There will be a place for the wanderers,
there will be time to wander.
Today I think about the song of the emigrant,
of
the emotional traveler.
Now,
when I’m grounded and a dilettante,
the
planking is curving,
today,
I think about the song of the emigrant.
Of
infuriated people in search of wonders,
of
the people who run.
And it’s not
about love or misunderstandings.
Not about lost
years.
Not even longing
for the brilliance inherent in life.
Today only I
want to win this round against impatience
Amazon is crazy about rankings, and they've always ranked books in a such a way that each author can track her own books, and the top ranked books are clearly visible to anyone who cares to look. Now they've taken to ranking the people behind the books. Take a look.
Of course, I'm not in the top 100. But as I looked through these, I was struck by the fact that I'd only ever read anything by J. K. Rowling out of all the authors in the top 100, and didn't find anyone else I would even consider reading (okay, maybe one or two). I'm probably weird, but an author's popularity doesn't attract me to their books. Does it attract you? Does it attract most readers? Is this author ranking the best thing for readers looking for new authors to read since sliced bread? Please comment and let me know.
In other news, I'm well into the boxes, tape, and cellophane. My husband and I are headed to Illinois to make our home for the foreseeable future.
For those of you keeping track, an appropriate response might be, "She's moving again?" It's my response, too, but we haven't made a go of it in Atlanta, wonderful as it may be, because my husband has been so unhappy at his job. The new move represents a new lease on life even more than the move to Atlanta did. It's a clean break and I can't wait to see what amazing doors open because of it.
Of course, it puts my goal of a complete first draft of my WIP, Seven Noble Knights, by year's end in severe jeopardy. For at least some of November -- NaNo challenge month, which I made such wonderful use of last year -- I'll be packing and unpacking all my notes and plot point scribblings. But I'm still going to do it. Just don't distract me.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to blog again. When I do, I will bring you some amazing historical posts and short, easy to consume bouts of logophilia. In the meantime, it would be a huge help to me if you play around with the carousel of books, below left, and click on them and consider liking them or leaving reviews. I'll thank you when I get back!
