Thankful Day Thirty - Stillness and Quiet

One of my favorite things to do during the holiday season is get up and sit in the quiet of the morning, first cup of coffee in hand, fireplace on, and gaze at the Christmas tree.

Doug and I have been together for nineteen years. We’ve been married fifteen of them. At first he balked at my traditions. He’d leave the house Thanksgiving morning, to get away from the hustle and bustle of dinner prep. He’d insist there was no reason to have the Christmas party again this year, because we’d had it the year before, and the year before that. He’d come along kicking and screaming to get a Christmas tree, and then insist we could decorate it the next weekend.

I didn’t really see it happen, his acquiesence to my routine, it just did. On Thanksgiving day he must’ve asked me five times if I wanted to decorate on Friday. I was ambivalent. We got up Friday morning and hit the Y as a family, getting in a much needed workout. Then, he asked me if I minded if we stopped by Walmart (on Black Friday, was he crazy?). We did, and I remembered we live in Monument, the parking lot was only half full. 

On the way home, he asked again, should we decorate today. I gave in. It dawned on me then that our roles switched. He was pushing for something that seemed important to him, so I agreed to do it. By mid-afternoon we were finished. We had help, the boys are older, it went quickly and seamlessly. So unlike most holiday traditions.

This morning, the house looks beautiful. And I’m so thankful we decorated, because now I get to sit and enjoy the stillness and peace of it. The quiet lasted all of twenty minutes, before the rest of the house woke and joined me. No longer still, the movement and noise was welcome, because the peace remained. 

As I look back on my thirty days of thankfulness, I realize I barely scratched the surface of all that I’m thankful for. The rest sits in my heart, where gratitude builds every day, and stays. I am blessed. My life is full of stillness and quiet, chaos and noise. It is also filled with more love than one person could possibly deserve. 

Thankful Day Twenty-Nine - A Best Friend

I’m also thankful this year for my best friend. The person who I can talk to about anything, who gets me, and never judges; who appreciates the subtle idiosyncracies that make up who I am; who knows the difference between the times I need a word of encouragement, and the times I need to hear a raunchy joke; who takes the time to check in when I’m not feeling well, or when I’m blue; the person I tell everything to, the good, the bad, the all of it. 

I don’t say thank you often enough, and I never say I love you, when those are the most important words I could say. 

Thank you.
I love you.
I appeciate having you in my life every day.

Thankful Day Twenty-Eight - Memories

Thanksgiving dinner is in the works . . . nothing left for me to do but take things out of the oven, open a bottle of wine, and enjoy the celebration of the holiday with my family. 

This year, I’m thankful for memories. As with every holiday, I miss my mom. Thanksgiving seems to hit me especially hard. She and I had a tradition of making the stuffing, getting the turkey in the oven, going out for breakfast, and then to the grocery store for the handful of things I always forget. 

The list of things forgotten sat on the kitchen counter this morning, while Doug made breakfast. Could we live without whipped cream for the pumpkin pie? Yes, probably. Could Doug live without the cherry pie I didn’t know he wanted me to make? Yes, we could live without that too. 

Are you going to go to the grocery store? he asked me. No, I wasn’t. Three years ago, I went alone. In the middle of one of the aisles, I had to abandon my cart as I ran out to the car, sobbing . . . missing my mother so much I couldn’t breathe. Would I risk it again this year? No, I couldn’t. What if I went with you? he said. Okay, that might work. 

I made it. No tears in the grocery store. No tears at all, until now. 

My mother wasn’t the easiest person to be around, but that doesn’t make me miss her any less. I am calmer on Thanksgiving, and every other holiday, without her here. That is the sad truth. Nothing stresses me out about the day, like it used to when she was here. But I remain thankful for the memories anyway. Those with her, and those with my grandparents, who I miss every single day too.

I make my grandmother’s stuffing. That is all I remember about Thanksgiving dinners with them. That, and making whipped cream. I still have the electric hand beater that belonged to her, and it still works. I only use it for whipped cream, although last year I caught Doug using it to mix big, heavy batches of paper maché. He almost lost his life that day. 

I’m thankful for the memories, the good and the not-so-good. I’m thankful to Doug for making new memories with me every day, holiday or not.

Thankful Day Twenty-Seven - Lots o' Snow

I may add to this post later, but in the meantime, I’m thankful for lots of snow. Typically there are only two or three lifts open at Loveland this early in the year, not worth going really between the crowds and over-skied conditions. This year there are two or three lifts NOT open. It’s gonna be a great day. We’re going to have so much fun. 

Skiing is an activity our family does together. We ride the lifts together, we ski together, we go through terrain parks and over jumps together. We talk, we laugh, we have the best time ever. It is about the only activity I can think of (at 5:29 in the morning) that we all enjoy equally. 

Today I’m thankful for lots of snow, and family time.

Thankful Day Twenty-Six - Giving Up, Giving In, Letting Go

Yesterday someone near and dear to me put this on Facebook:

“I’d rather look back at my life and say ‘I can’t believe I did that,’ instead of saying ‘I wish I had done that.’”

I commented that was how I feel about my writing. It took me so long to just give in and do it, let it happen, let go of preconceived notions of what my writing should be. It also took me a long time to let go of the fear. In July of this year, a friend and I were brainstorming pseudonyms, because I was going to write my first steamy novel, and I was afraid what people might think. I still am, to a certain extent, but on the other hand, I’m proud.

I’m proud because it was just another thing I let go of. Who cares if I write steamy books? I mean, good Lord, EL James was hanging out in Vancouver with Sarah McLachlan yesterday. I’d like to hang out with Sarah McLachlan, although I don’t think I have a BDSM book in me . . . if that’s what it takes.

I have another friend, on Facebook, who has confessed to having a dream to write a book. My advice to her was to just do it. Give up your fear, give in to your dream, let go of your insecurities and just write. What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll be in the same place you are now . . . without a book. And the best? You’ve seen me fulfill my dream and I can tell you, there are few things that feel this good.

And in the middle? You’ll write a book, or part of a book, and you’ll learn something about yourself. Many say that writing your first book is getting rid of everything you need to get off your chest. I didn’t want to admit it a year ago, but now I am able to admit, that’s what my first book was. There is a good story in it, if I can strip away the rest of the crap and rewrite it without everything I needed to get off my chest and focus on the story. I’m feeling confident I’ll be able to do that, in which case, I may be left with a really good book.

This year I’m thankful for giving up on unrealistic expectations, giving in to dreams and desires and letting go of fear. Yesterday, today, tomorrow and every day after that.

Thankful Day Twenty-Five - A New Book (and Early Bird Buyer)!

I woke up this morning to a wonderful surprise! And Then You Dance is available on Kindle . . . five days early! It wasn’t supposed to be available until December 1, so this is a wonderful surprise!

And on top of that wonderful surprise, I logged on to my reports and saw that SOMEONE already purchased it! Wow! Before I even knew it was for sale. 

This is certainly a wonderful way to start Thanksgiving week. I couldn’t be more surprised, or more thankful.

Life is good indeed. 

Thankful Day Twenty-Four - Health

I’m feeling so much better than I was yesterday, and for that I’m very thankful. I was pretty sick yesterday, so I was sure it was more than a one day thing. All I could think about, when I was awake, was how I wished I felt good enough to get up and work on my book. I gave up on making the remaining deadlines in order to have it release on December 1, and wondered how long it would be before I was up and about.

Today Doug and I woke up early. I was starving, so we started cooking. By eleven we had breakfast sandwiches and frittatas made for the week. I also roasted several kinds of vegetables, make wild rice and sausage soup, made sure we had what we needed for Thanksgiving, and did six loads of laundry.

We went to Walmart, picked Frank up for his sleepover, came home and cleaned the living room and dining room carpets. All before noon. I feel as though I packed two days worth of housework into one morning. I also feel as though our whole family will be able to relax and enjoy the holiday week, without feeling like all we’re doing are chores.

It’s now 1:30, and I’m writing. I have been for at least an hour.

So I’m thankful for health. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to get any of what is written above done. We all take it for granted, until we don’t have it.

Thankful Day Twenty-Three - Caregivers

I was sick yesterday, but all day, I was thankful for my caregivers. Doug came and checked on me often, but never woke me up when I was sleeping. He brought me food, and went out and bought Sprite, which we never have in the house (any soda), but always makes my tummy feel better. Beckett came in periodically and ask me how I was doing too. I felt loved, and cared for.

Thankful Day Twenty-Two - The End

I don’t actually ever write those words, “The End,” but I’m thankful for them anyway, especially today. I have a couple more steps to go, a couple more hoops to jump through, but for all intents and purposes, And Then You Dance is done.

It may not be available as a paperback by December 1, but the e-book will be, and the print version will follow within a few days. 

And it’s a Friday. And I’m about to meet a friend for a glass of wine. I’m thankful for both those things too.

Thankful Day Twenty-One - Staying Put

Last night I considered writing a Facebook post saying that what I really wanted was four or five days, or even a week, where I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything other than write. Evidently I forgot about it before I did it.

This morning Doug got up at 4:45am, like he does every Tuesday and Thursday, to take Frank to swim practice. He comes home from taxi duty and starts a workout. I get up and make Frank's breakfast, a calorie-laden protein shake, which he drinks in the car between MHCC and school. I pick him up and drive him from the club to school.

This morning Doug came in and told me to go back to sleep. “The roads are slick this morning. I’ll pick Frank up.” Not one to argue when someone suggests I go back to sleep when the clock says 5:00am, I complied.

I knew before I wrote a post about wishing I could stay put this morning, that it would be impossible. I knew that at 6:55am, I’d be out of the house and on my way to my first trip of the day. Here it is 7:04, and I’m home, haven’t left, and happy as can be. As soon as I finish this blog post, I’m going to dive into And Then You Dance, and see if I can figure out why I hate the last one hundred pages.

I’m feeling very thankful for Doug, and his desire to keep us safe, and for getting to stay put.

Thankful Day Twenty - Old Friends

The term “old friends,” is relative. We have our oldest old friends, the ones we’ve known most of our lives. I have a friend I met when I was a baby . . . she’s my “oldest” friend. There are others I met in elementary school, who I still keep in contact with. There are those I met in middle school and high school too, who thanks to primarily to Facebook, I remain in contact with.

Then there are our California friends, many of whom I met when Frank was a baby. Those are old friends too. Today I spent time with two old friends, both of whom I met when we moved here, seven years ago. 

I’m thankful for all of them, even the one-year-old friendships, because they’re old friends too. In fact, there are folks I’ve become friends with in the last few months, that feel like old friends, because we connected and formed a bond so quickly. To say that I’ve only known them a couple of months is non-sensical to me. It must be longer than that, right? Because it sure feels that way.

A favorite quote of mine has always been “we don’t meet knew friends, we recognize them.” I’ve been lucky to recognize so many in my lifetime. I am a bjillionaire when it comes to friendships. And that is something I’m very, very thankful for.

Thankful Day Nineteen - Bookstores

This morning I sat down to write about what I was thankful for, and wasn’t compelled to write anything. It wasn’t that I couldn’t come up with anything to be thankful about, I just wasn’t moved enough to sit down and write about it.

What I’ve learned over the past nineteen days, is that usually means something else will come to me later in day, that I feel strongly about, so I should wait. And, something came to me.

What I’m thankful for today is bookstores. Good, old fashioned, books on shelves, books in windows, books on tables and counters bookstores. And I’m especially thankful that the wonderful bookstore in historic downtown Monument is the FIRST bookstore to have my book in stock. That’s right . . . you can go into Covered Treasures, at the corner of Second and Washington and look at the book. You can pick it up, thumb through it and then BUY it! 

I read books on my iPad as much, or more, than anyone else. I read a crazy number of books and if I wasn't able to download them in an instant and dive into a new one the minute I finish the one before, I would be pouty. 

On the other hand, there are certain books, that I have to hold in my hands and read. Unbroken was like that, and Songs of Willow Frost will be too. With a book that beautifully designed, it deserves the honor of being held in my hands while I read it.

The other thing about bookstores, is you can have a conversation about books, rather than just reading arbitrary reviews by people you know nothing about. When I ask Tommie, the owner of Covered Treasures, about a book, I know I will get her honest opinion about it. Even if it’s just to say she hasn't read it yet. I also know Tommie’s taste. If there is a book I might not necessarily be interested in, but Tommie recommends it to me and says she thinks I would enjoy it . . . I buy it. You can read through online reviews, but you can’t ask those online reviewers questions and get immediate answers like you can with a living, breathing person working in a bookstore.

And to take it a step further, I’m thankful for independent bookstores. In the same way I love to go to Margo’s on the Alley when I need a special gift for someone, because I know Margo and love the special things she picks out to have in her store, independent bookstores are the same way. They don’t carry every book ever published, on every subject ever written about . . . they carry the things they believe their readers, their customers, would enjoy, or ask for, or be interested in. That isn’t to say they can’t order any book on any subject. But, if I know I want a book, particularly to give as a gift, but I don’t know what I’m looking for, I go to Covered Treasures.

Just yesterday Tommie told me about a book she thought Frank would really enjoy reading. It’ll be one of his Christmas gifts. I didn’t even need Tommie to tell me why, I just know that she knows Frank . . . so if she thinks he’ll like it, he will. 

I love books. I’ve always loved reading them, in the last couple of years, I’ve learned that I love to write them too. As much as I can’t imagine a world without music, a world without books would be so much worse. 

Books, bookstores and people like Tommie—that’s what I’m thankful for today.

Thankful Day Eighteen - Mentors

Today I’m thankful for mentors. It doesn’t seem to matter what I need help with, I have people willing to give it, at a moment’s notice.

If there’s something up with one of the boys, and I need parenting advice, I have an army of grandmas all too willing to give me their opinion. And let me tell you, their advice has been invaluable. My writing? Countless people I can turn to. Career advice? That too. And the feedback I get is never what I expect.

That is the part I am thankful for the most. If I wanted to hear what I wanted to hear, what would be the point of asking someone else for their advice? Nine times out of ten, the advice or feedback I get, is something I would have least expected, or hadn’t thought of, or I never would have considered looking at from that perspective.

Today I need help. I put the call out at 7:27, via text to three people, all who have answered me already, telling me to let them know when and where today, and they’ll be there. A couple have work commitments, but offered to meet regardless. The bottom line is, I said I needed help, and they know I wouldn’t ask in the way that I did, if it wasn’t important. 

I sincerely hope that others see me the same way. I know they do, I don’t have to hope. I get asked for advice all the time, and believe me, I don’t mind it at all. Pay it forward, pay it backward, no matter what, pay good karma out into the universe and it will come back to you ten-fold.

There are times we can’t see the forest for the trees. There have been so many times in my life when I’ve been too close to a situation to be able to view it objectively. Getting another opinion, another point of view, has helped me make better decisions.

Monument is full of mentor types. We are a community with a plethora of highly accomplished people who have chosen to live here. In the course of the last seven years, I have come to know so many, from differing walks of life, who are simply brilliant. Being a hub of retired Air Force officers adds to the brilliance bank, but there are others too. 

I went to a meeting last year at the elementary school Beck goes to. It was a building advisory council meeting. We review all sorts of things that relate to the big picture of the school. This particular meeting took place not long after Sandy Hook. A man was sitting in the room when I arrived, I didn’t recognize him. When the meeting started, the principal introduced him as one of the top experts in the country on school shootings and school safety. Oh, and he’s also the parent of a student at that school.

He led us around the building and in less than an hour, we had a temporary plan in place, and I learned the district was seeking his council as well, to put a district plan together. The man is so far beyond brilliant. I learned more from him in ten minutes than I would’ve if I had taken a seminar. And he lives here. 

Thankful again, we chose Monument, I love living here so much. Thankful for the other folks who chose to live here too. And thankful for their willingness to share their knowledge, be a friend, be a mentor.

Thankful Day Seventeen - Powder Yearning

I’ve been watching (drooling while doing so), the posts from the ski resorts about how much snow they’ve gotten so far. It’s definitely an early season, and after the dismal seasons of the last two or three years . . . so welcome. 

We haven’t gotten much snow in Monument so far this year, it’s a happy and sad kind of thing for me. I don’t mind snow, but on the other hand, I enjoy the easy mobility of getting around and going places without worrying about the weather. I am also not subjected to the complaining about it either in my house or on social media. I love weather, all kinds of weather, that’s why I live here. I don’t love hearing or reading people’s complaints about it all the time. 

So anyway, today I’m thankful for powder, and lots of snow in the mountains. We don’t have any ski trips planned until Christmas time. Doug always takes me skiing for my birthday. Sometimes there’s enough snow to go, sometimes there really isn’t but we ski the three or four runs open anyway. 

It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet and already more lifts are open than usually are by New Year’s Day. And that is much to be thankful for. I would imagine ski area operators are a thousand times more thankful than I am.

I love living in Colorado. Doug is more ambivalent about it. But then, Doug leans into ambivalence anyway. In my mind, there isn’t a more perfect place to raise a family. We may not live here once the boys are grown and on their own, but that is many years off for us. Beck is only in fourth grade.

Hand-in-hand with my love of living here is my love of skiing. I love it. Everything about it. I could ski every day. I’m not an extreme skier, I ski the runs I’m comfortable on; I let the boys talk me into going through the terrain parks at least a few times a day, jumps still scare me, but I make myself do them anyway.

Three years ago? Was it three years? I can’t remember. I tore my ACL skiing. The year that followed was hell for me. I sat in the lodge while Doug and the boys skied. Absolute hell. I’m not much of a sitter anyway, but to have to sit while they were out doing something my body itched to do? Double-hell. 

Last year was the first year I felt as though I was back all the way. I worked hard at conditioning my body for skiing and when I got out there, I reaped the rewards of the hard work. Most days Doug and I were still on the slopes after the boys went into the lodge to rest. Ha! That was a great feeling.

So I’m still many days away from our first ski trip this year, but I watch those snow reports, making plans anyway. Yearning.

Crested Butte Powder Pic from this morning. See? Yearning.

Giving Up, But Only Temporarily

I’ve decided that I can't work on two books at once. While And Then You Dance is finished, I have a lot of work to do to get it ready for a December 1 release. I’ve been trying to work on book three in the midst of it, and it just isn’t working. 

So, unfortunately, I’m abandoning NaNoWriMo this year. At least until I’ve got ATYD ready to go, the promotions in place, etc. If I let go of book three, maybe I’ll be able to focus and just get it done, rather than sitting in the midst of analysis paralysis on both books.

On top of that, I’m working on an upcoming promotion for And Then You Fall . . . talk about feeling as though I have multiple personalities. From day to day I can’t remember whether I’m in Ben and Liv’s story, or Billy and Renie’s story, or the new story, whose MMC seems to change with the weather. And Colorado weather changes a lot in November.

It won’t be forever, just a couple of weeks, then I’ll be back at it, writing up whoever’s story it ends up being. Right now the action in the story is taking place at Thanksgiving, so in two weeks I’ll definitely be in the mood to move them into Christmas. 

See? You can spin anything you want in a positive direction if you try hard enough.

Thankful Day Sixteen - Guilt Free at 11:57am

Today I am thankful that it is only 11:57am and my house is clean. Or most of it is anyway. As long as I don't set foot in the kitchen today, for a number of reasons, I'll be a happy girl.

Beckett is at a sleepover, it's only 11:57, well now it's 11:59am, but it's before noon and he's off having fun. We'll see him tomorrow morning. 

What I'm most thankful for is that what this means is that until 4:30 this afternoon, when I have to make a ten minute trip to the YMCA and back to drop Frank off for his volunteer hours, and then again when I have to pick him up . . . the WHOLE rest of the time is mine . . . to write. Or sleep. Or do whatever. Who knows, maybe Doug and I will even go out on a date.

Even though it is officially noon now, the clock is just striking twelve. My afternoon is officially all mine. Guilt-free.

Thankful Day Fifteen - Praise

This is a weird thing to be thankful for, and maybe by the time I get to the end of this post, I’ll circle back up and delete this sentence . . . but today I’m thankful for praise.

I had two meetings this morning and happened to have a copy of And Then You Fall in the bag I was carrying. It is supposed to remind me to go to the post office and mail it to the person it’s signed for, but obviously the reminder hasn’t worked.

Anyway, I pulled the book out at both meetings to show someone who asked about it. Both times they grabbed the book out of my hands, looked it over, in one instance, squealed with delight and made a little bit of a big deal out of it (what fun an editor would have with that sentence!).

It made me feel great. Really great. I know it isn’t that big of a deal . . . and I’m doubtful whether I could muster up that kind of reaction for someone else’s book, but I just have to say, I am thankful they did. It made my day. 

I am home, it is only 10:30, and I’m ready to write, fueled by reader and friend appreciation. There is a lot to be said for the motivating power of acknowledgement.

Falling Out of Love with My Main Characters

“In writing, you must kill all your darlings.”  — William Faulkner

Some have said Faulkner meant writers should edit out their superfluous prose when he said “kill all your darlings.” Others believe the darlings he referenced were our all-too-perfect main characters.

We all do it, how can we not? We write our main characters because we like them, sometimes we go so far as to love them. It’s the point, is it not? Who would want to write about someone they didn’t like? Or at least find interesting? We spend a lot of time with our main characters. If I didn’t like him or her, I wouldn’t want to hang out with them as much as I do.

When Catie was visiting last weekend, we talked about some of my main male characters (MMCs). We talked about which ones we liked the best, and what was going to happen with the next two, who we meet in book two of this series. 

We also talked about book three’s main female character (MFC). I made the mistake, at the end of book one, of telling Catie I didn't like a particular character very much. I may have expanded on why. I can’t remember anymore, because now, the character I didn’t like, is the MFC of book three. Consequently, Catie doesn’t like her. And she isn’t very happy that this MFC will end up with the hot MMC, who we’ve both already fallen in love with.

Confused? Yeah, try living it. You think falling in love with them while reading it is bad? I have dreams about these fictional characters . . . even after I’ve moved on to another book. They come and visit me in my sleep. Yes, I know I sound crazy. Having a network of fellow authors keeps me from worrying about it. Most of us establish these connections with our characters. Thankfully, I know I’m not alone.

I have one reader whose critiques often find fault with my “all-too-perfect” MFCs. She rarely finds the MMCs to be. Interesting. She goes on to say she can’t identify with them, because of it. She’s not alone, I’ve heard that about the main character in the first series I wrote.

There is a fine line between making a main character likeable, or loveable, and making them boring as all get out. When I hear comments like the above, I usually argue about the bad decisions the character makes, or point out what I see as flaws. I don’t even find my arguments convincing. 

It makes me exceedingly happy when a reader tells me, at some point in the book, that they hate one of the characters. If I’ve inspired that level of negative emotion, I must’ve succeeded in making them less than perfect.

The book I’m working on now has two MMCs. I haven’t decided yet which one will win out and be the official MMC of this book, and which will headline the fourth book. Every time I think I’ve decided, I change my mind. They’re brothers, twins in fact, and I’m having a good time making both of them less likeable, as I battle over who we will love enough to want to win out. 

In a way, I suppose I’m demonizing them both a little bit. We already know that the MFC isn’t perfect, since neither Catie or I like her, even before the book gets started. In the first few pages I have made her sympathetic though, because I’m going to have to spend the next three or four weeks with her. ;-)

I spent the last two weeks back in book one of this series, which was very difficult. The editor I used on the first go around, didn’t do a very good job. The second editor I used, was better, although took too much of the personality of the book out of it, and I had to add it back in. It was a tedious task and I hated almost every minute of it. 

What was worse, was being back with those characters again. They’re in books two and three, and probably four, but they aren’t the MMC or MFC. I had fallen out of love with them, stopped caring about them, stopped dreaming about them . . . and then there they were, back again. I haven’t enjoyed it. I like them, very much, but once you’ve moved on from a character, spending that much time with them again is like having a visitor who stays too long. You enjoy it at first, and then you wish they would just leave already. 

Today I’m happily back in book three, while the editor works her magic on book two, falling in love with two characters that a month from now I’ll have to fall out of love with, well, one of them, I’ll only have to fall out of love with one of them. Who will it be? Jace or Tucker? I’ll have to get busy writing so I can find out. 

Thankful Day Fourteen - SleepWriting

Today I’m thankful for a good night’s sleep and time to write. Two things essentially, but today they go together.

I finished a major edit on one of my books yesterday. What I expected to take a day or two to complete, took almost two weeks, maybe one week . . . but it felt like two weeks, or even two months. I hate editing, have I made that clear?

I fully expected to start writing yesterday, as soon as I finished my edit, but by the time I sat down to do it, it was after 7:30, and had no energy to do so. I re-read the start of what I’m calling Series 2/Book 3, and hated every word of it, all 6,600 of them. So rather than deleting it, which I was tempted to do, I went to bed. Yes, at 8:00pm. I slept until 7:00 this morning. Evidently I needed sleep. 

This morning I feel rested and ready to write. I was tempted to open Series 2/Book 2, And Then You Dance, and start running it through the edit mill, but I just got out of edit-hell, why would I immediately put myself back in it?

So, here I sit, ready to write, hoping that when I open the S2/B3 file, I don’t hate it as much as I did last night. As far as I know, I have most of the day free, which means I have the time to write.

Tomorrow I hope to be thankful for the addition of words, a lot of them.

Thankful Day Thirteen - Things I Can't Write About

The things I’m most thankful for today, are things I can’t talk about yet. Opportunities. I have them in abundance. There is much on the horizon for me in the next year, and beyond. Unfortunately, I can’t talk about any of it. Or write about it. But that certainly won’t stop me from being thankful for it.

He Said No

But that's his decision, right? I told him that if he wins any short story writing contests, his work would be fair game. That made him smile.

It's such a good story. I hope someone other than his English teacher and me gets to read it someday.

Thankful Day Twelve - The Mundane but Essential

As I write this post, I’m holding my breath. About thirty minutes ago, my book file crashed. I restarted the program. It crashed again. I restarted the computer. It crashed again. Coincidentally, Doug mentioned he was going to add more RAM to my computer this morning. Okay, I thought, maybe that will help. He added it. I opened the book file, it crashed again. But, on the positive side, my computer does seem to be running much faster than it had been.

I opened the time machine backup and restored the last backup I had of the book, from 8:26 this morning. It is open, and has been open for six minutes, and I have stopped holding my breath. I’ve also done a save as, and my backup is running again, which means I have multiple copies of it on an external hard drive. Oh, and for the super-safety minded, I have two different external hard drives I back up to. 

So today I am thankful for Time Machine and external hard drives, multiple backup copies and technology in general. What could have been a devastating loss, was instead a half hour of annoyance. A welcome interruption actually, because I am in editing hell with this book and needed the break. 

Three Pages of Heart-Wrenchingly Beautiful Story and They're Not Mine.

Frank asked me to proofread a short story assignment when I dropped him off at swim practice. "It’s on your desktop Mom," he said, before he got out of the car. 

I ran errands and made dinner, the usual mundane stuff of a mom's weeknight. It wasn't until I sat down at my desk to write, that I remembered his request.

I pulled the document up. Two paragraphs in, I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. Then I printed his story, and read it. 

I overlooked the grammatical errors as I read three pages of heart-wrenchingly beautiful story. Magnificent. Painful. Creative. Stunning in its depth. In it, he is in his sixties, looking back on something that happened when he was a freshman in high school. He writes in the voice of a sixty-year-old man, who recalls the event in the voice of a fourteen-year-old. It is a very difficult thing to do, to get both voices right. He does it innately.

If his teacher does not recommend he enter it in a writing contest, I will. In fact, I will likely print every short story entry request I get, and I get at least one a day, and recommend he enter it. 

I have a very high opinion of Frank, in the same way every parent feels about their child, but this story is extraordinary. I intend to ask his permission to put it on the blog, so you can read for yourself. 

Little Slips of Inspiration

I found this written in my email draft folder. I’m guessing I wrote it. It sounds like something I’d write. Something I intended to put into And Then You Dance, because it sounds like Billy, or Renie, or even Jace. I do this a lot. I stumble on little slips of paper with these quotes, or they’re in my drafts folder, or in my notes on the iPad, or on my phone. 

I’m going to keep this post going. Add to it, so I can pull from this as I need and want to. If I remember. It may just become another place I keep inspiration or quotes or random thoughts the significance of I can’t remember when I stumble upon them again.

To say I miss you, doesn't do justice to the ache in my soul. I miss you, with every breath I take—of the air we once shared. I miss you every time I close my eyes, and see your face, your smile, your eyes. I miss you when I dream, and you come to me, make love to me. I miss you when I hear your voice, because my heart hears you even when there is no sound. I miss you with every breath I take, because I remember the air we once shared.

Thankful Day Eleven - Uncle Lawrence

My grandmother had two brothers and three sisters. They all played a big role in my childhood, except for one. Her oldest brother, Ellery, was killed in a car accident when my mother was a little girl. My grandmother never got over it. She missed him every day for the rest of her life. So in a way, he did play a role in my life, in that I learned about missing someone, that much, after they’re gone. There was sadness, but there was joy too. And now, today, right this minute, it is how I feel when I think of her.

Her other brother, Lawrence, was younger than my grandmother. What I remember about him, from a little girl’s perspective, was that he walked funny, and spoke funny. He was in the war, my grandmother explained. And then she went on to tell me what he’d been like before the war.

He married a girl from England when World War II ended, and my grandfather and something to do with paying her way here and they never paid him back . . . something that caused a rift. From then, his wife never got along with my grandmother, so family gatherings were strained when they were both there. Thus, out of all her siblings, he was the one I knew the least.

They had three children, Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Kathleen. The oldest was my mother’s age. I knew them, I suppose, but not as well as I knew other cousins.

When my grandmother died, Uncle Lawrence came to the funeral home. I remember being in a room away from the throng of mourners, needing a break from it all. He found me off on my own and we sat and talked. It was hard for him to talk, whatever his injury had been during the war, had the same result as if he had a stroke. But he persevered and I listened. Each sentence seemed to take an eternity, but I knew what he was working so hard to tell me, was important. He told me about my grandmother that day. She was always his favorite, he told me. The one he loved the best. We sat long enough, that people came looking for me, worried about me. I remember Uncle Lawrence saying, "Leave us be."

I remember so little of him, compared to the rest of my aunts and uncles, but I’'ll never forget his kindness that day, the love he showed for me and for his sister. When he came back from the war, he couldn’t ever work again. He told me how my grandmother would come when Aunt Kathleen was at work, and my grandfather was too, and he and his sister would play cards. It wasn’t a story my grandmother ever told me. But I carry the image in my mind to this day . . . of the two of them sitting and playing cards.

So today, Veterans Day, I am thankful for Uncle Lawrence, and for the sacrifices he made for the love of our country.

Thankful Day Ten - Exquisite Connections

I didn’t write yesterday, in fact I didn’t touch the computer yesterday (bravo for me). Instead I hung with Catie, all day. We went to breakfast with F & B, and then watched the Before movies (Sunrise, Sunset and Midnight). All in a row. I would’ve been so pissed had I seen Before Sunrise eighteen years ago and Before Sunset nine years ago. At the end of Before Midnight, I decided I don’t care what happens to them next. Maybe in nine years I will again. 

I found the first two of the trilogy extraordinarily beautiful. And magnificently written. So much so, that throughout the second movie in particular, I found myself jotting down certain lines, to capture them, because they were that compelling. And most related to exquisite connections.

Because of the nature of the movies, I spent a lot of time thinking about connections. Sending the note; introducing ourselves; inviting someone to coffee; asking someone to get off the train and spend the day with us . . .  and if we hadn’t? The connection would’ve been missed. Who knows how important that connection might have been? How would it have altered our lives had we made it?

The serendipity of connections has always fascinated me. That split second when the chance can be made or lost. And then to think, if I hadn’t gone in that direction, what then? 

Every so often, someone comes into our lives and we are profoundly changed. I was thankful yesterday for a very small world, and exquisite connections.

I have two books to finish, three books to edit, and two books to write. All clouding my brain. I want to get all of them done right this minute. Because as soon as I’m finished with them, there is another book I want to write, about exquisite connections. 

Book eight: A chance encounter; two people who never have and never will meet; the parallity of their lives; in retrospect. Sounds exquisite, n’est pas?