As Megan pointed out in June, the world has changed a lot since March. Some days feel a little less disheartening, others stranger than fiction. For those of us with children, when schools closed (for Knoxville, the rest of the school year), we were thrust into the role of a cross between Principle/Teacher/Parent/all-powerful crisis maven while watching our hair gray at an abnormal rate (I’m letting my crown reign, call it performance art). I know personally, some days I feel effective, most I do not.
On top of a shift in how we move about our communities and job situations, as writers, we’ve had to change the when and where our writing happens. Some days I feel good, even excited about what I’m writing. And then some days I feel it’s unimportant in light of “the sickness”, as my youngest calls it, or Black Lives Matter, or Standing Rock (which as I write this has finally seen a great victory), or the people in my live fighting cancer or other ailments. On those days, when I can’t let go of my grief, that is when the writing is hard and feels like a frivolous luxury. But it’s also when I’m not writing, that I feel the saddest, because while I don’t see writing as a form of therapy, I do see it as a form of caring for myself and my ideas. Writing is the clearest way for me to navigate through this crazy world.
Sometimes it’s hard to know where to start. Continue reading
Ask my six-year-old for a bite of his ice cream and you’ll get a cold stare that could refreeze the polar caps. (Which is really what he should employ that skill for.) Oddly enough it’s when I ask him NOT to share that he’s all too happy to oblige with the opposite of my request. Kids! I should have prefaced this post with a warning. I’m loopy as all get out with a cold at the moment. My son wouldn’t share his ice cream, but aches and a cough are apparently the gift du jour. Continue reading
Dear Writer Friends,
On the morning of August 5th, I got my three kids in the car and drove them to school. Summer had been fun and I loved our long, lazy days. But let me tell you, I was ready to get back to work. With the same measure of excitement as my six-year-old starting his first year at a new school, I was going to make the time I had to write massively productive; I wasn’t going to waste a single second. Not even a millisecond. Continue reading
I’m a morning person, always have been, so my day begins around 5am, Monday-Friday. Perhaps you are the same, perhaps not. But getting up early didn’t necessarily mean that I was ready to hunker down and work on my book.
In fact, it took me an embarrassingly long time to sort out what I needed to ready myself to write, but once I did, I found that having a pre-writing ritual, one that begins before I go to bed, has helped me prepare, physically and mentally, to focus on my work. Continue reading