Thankful

November's always been one of my favorite months, because it's filled with opportunities to reflect, celebrate, and be thankful.

I'm thankful for my students, who make me laugh, make me think, and make me feel like I hold a valuable place in the world.

I'm thankful for my work. This year, I've gotten to achieve some fairly substantial dreams: I've done work for National Geographic, and I've gotten to craft my own creative writing class. I am thankful for the trust those around me have had about my ability to do these things well. I work very hard, but I'm fortunate that so much of my work allows me to share my passion, and to fill my life with it.

I'm thankful for my writing, which inspires me to get up before the sun, and stay up long after it's gone to bed, exploring and dreaming and discovering. I'm thankful for the way my writing allows me to better understand myself and my world. I'm thankful for my critique partner, Ryan Graudin, whose encouragement, kind words, and "done yet?" emails help me remember how important my writing is to me, and how much I want to continue to pursue it.

I'm thankful for my friends, who keep me sane in the midst of my crazy work schedule, who make me laugh and feel seen, known, and celebrated. Even when they're far away from me.

 This Thanksgiving, I feel very thankful for my family. I feel thankful for the fact that, even though my brother and I are very different, we can still find joy in doing crazy things (like jumping out of a plane) together. I'm thankful for the fact that he's the ONLY boy who's ever been unembarrassed to dance with me around the kitchen. I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to sit around a crowded table and soak in the eccentric, outspoken crazy of my family members.






And - because I don't think we do this enough - I am thankful for myself: my resilience, my courage, and my continued desire to be open to the world and passionate about it, even when I'm tired and depleted and unsure.

Book Review: I'll Be There

This is the first year since 2006 that I've been in the States for Thanksgiving, and I find myself grateful for a lot of things. For my family, who believes I'm capable of greatness even on the days when I refuse to change out of pajamas. I'm thankful for the collection of close friends and confidants who have urged me to keep on writing stories. I'm thankful that I have a place to live, good food to eat, and an individual espresso maker.

And, this week, I'm thankful for I'll Be There by Holly Goldberg Sloan.

Genre: YA, I suppose (although I only think it falls under that umbrella because it has several young people in it)

In a nutshell: beautiful, gripping, thoughtful, and heart warming. 

First of all, look at this cover... I think it's the best one I've seen in years. If I could ask this cover out on a date, I'd think about it.

I don't often say I'm "thankful" to have discovered a particular book, but this one is very special. It is about two brothers who have nothing to cling to in life but each other until they move into a small town where a chance meeting changes the course of their lives. Sam, the oldest brother, goes into a church to hear some good music only to hear Emily singing terribly, so nervous that she latches onto his face in the back of the crowd to get through it. This is very much a story about connection: what happens when we reach out and touch each other's lives, even in seemingly small ways.

This is one of those rare reads that I am desperately trying to get everyone I know to read. It is so, so lovely and heartwarming despite its moments of terrible sadness. It made me cry, and it made me laugh loud enough to wake people. It made me so, so anxious to know what happens that I stayed up to some unacceptable hour to finish it. But I didn't want it to end, either. The relationship between the two brothers, Sam and Riddle, is touching and haunting. In fact every relationship in this book is pretty lovely to discover. The book has us skipping between all the character's thoughts, so we get to have access to pretty much every important perspective. The young voices are crafted so thoughtfully and so believably. And although there are things that made me angry and upset, I never found this story depressing. There is so much that is uplifting in it, and the sad moments only make those richer.

I know I haven't really told you what this book is about. I don't want to ruin it: you should get to experience it for yourself, and I highly recommend that you do. 

They Don't Eat The Turkeys Here

As I watch a bush turkey wobble its fat bottom on the fence in my backyard, I am reminded how much I have to be thankful for.

This year, I've had the opportunity to go diving with sharks, hike over volcanoes, and have adventures with family and friends on both sides of the equator.

I'm with someone who makes me laugh, who isn't terrified by my bursts of weirdness, AND who celebrates me, and my writing, every day.

I have the time, and the courage, to write. And finally, I'm doing it. And loving every minute.

However, I am not thankful for the bush turkeys that crash through our saplings and peck over my leftovers at our favorite cafe. Too bad we aren't supposed to eat them: it's too hot for turkey, anyway.