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.

Ode To Students

I have the kind of job where I often get the chance to think, "Wow. I'm really interested in what this student wrote."

Where I sometimes get to think, "Wow. I'm really proud of what this student has ended up writing."

And then there are those very rare moments when I get to think, "Wow. I wish I had written what this student wrote."

Sometimes, I am lucky enough to read a piece of student writing that leaves me with a true sense of wonder. How can someone so young say something so simply, so beautifully? Usually it is in moments when they are writing unselfconsciously, as in an email written late at night, or in the writing journals I have them keep. It was in one such journal that I came across this sentence:

English is the study of poorly defined questions.

I find myself...lingeringly troubled by this statement. Not because I think this student was knocking his English class, but because of those two descriptors: "poorly defined." As if to ask a question without a rigid shape, and without an easy answer, is something not quite to be trusted. As if by making a question blurry, it loses some of its potency; loses some of its importance.

Here's what I have to say about poorly defined questions (which, I warn you, is probably going to be a little obtuse):

They ask you not to calculate, but to explore. Not to find some right answer--the what--but the WHY. Why do things fall apart? Why do things hold together?

I understand why these questions are troubling. Poorly defined questions are steps into a dark tunnel, not knowing what you'll find there; they are expeditions that could lead you anywhere, or everywhere, or nowhere. They can make you feel like you're throwing yourself off a cliff with no means to claw your way back up. But they are also about making connections between different ideas, different threads, different moments in a piece of literature, and using them to find a larger possible truth. Why do things fall apart in Lord of the Flies? There are many reasons, and they all lead back to the question of whether we, as humans, are inherently good. Whether compassion and empathy can withstand the blunt force of the need to survive and to control. Are there clear answers to these questions? Are there easy answers? No. But might they lead us to conclusions that matter? I think so.

For me, poorly defined English aren't about answers. They are about the means by which you seek those answers--intellectually and otherwise--and what you might discover along the way. I love asking these questions in my classes because I learn about my students through the answers they give. I can ask a room of students, "What is the American Dream?" and they can answer in one of so many different ways, all of which can be both right and wrong. All of which will give me some insight into what interests my students, and what drives them, and what matters to them, which ends up being what matters to all of us.

What do I love about poorly defined questions? That essentially they are all asking about the same thing: about what it is to be alive in the world. And those questions will always result in different answers, and the same answers.

Why I Didn't Watch Even One Second of The Superbowl

Over the course of the past week, I realized something important about setting goals. I can't say that this realization was completely new to me: it's something I've understood for a while now, but haven't been able to really internalize in a meaningful and actionable way.

Every day, I make imposing TO DO lists. And every day, my to-do listing essentially sets me up for failure. Because my lists generally look like this one to the left.

This list represents the things that I feel I need to do in a given day, or cluster of days. Most of the things on this list are not five minute activities; they are complicated and involved.

There are a couple of things to note here. First, that this list sets up completely ridiculous expectations for a given day, at the end of which I will inevitably feel like I've failed. This list does not catalogue the inordinate numbers of things I need to do that I don't feel the need to write down. Before starting in on my to-do list, I have to teach a full day, eat, sleep, converse with colleagues, respond to email, attempt to inspire students to enjoy critical thinking and reading (and sometimes juggling and sonnet writing), get up and stretch, and maybe even exercise (if I get very lucky). Even if I had a full day at home in the quiet, sipping coffee at my desk, I don't know that this list is actionable. Even if I had two personal slaves personal assistants to help me, I don't think I could pull it off.

Second, its' important to note what tasks have remained unchecked. Which ones, you ask?

The personal ones: my writing and personal health goals. The ones that are really important to me.

Not to say that work-related goals aren't important to me. They really are. But are they always and forever the most IMPORTANT goals, the ones that should always get top billing? I'm not convinced.

My students are often lamenting the fact that they are given so much work and that what's expected of them isn't reasonable. They're right: it isn't reasonable to expect that they can give their very best to every class and every assignment on every given day. We only have so many hours in the day and so many iotas of concentration to contribute. That means you have to pick and choose where and how you expend your energy.  It's about making choices about what your priorities are going to be. It's also about knowing that you can't do it all. You can try, but you can't. At least you can't do it all well - and isn't that what we're striving for? Sometimes you have to ease off in certain aspects of your life in order to live the life you really want. It isn't an easy thing to do sometimes, but the alternative is feeling like you're always failing.

Which is why, instead of watching the Superbowl, I worked on revising my novel. Because I have a big goal of revising this novel in the next six weeks, and watching football isn't going to get me there.

Music I'm Writing To: Ben Howard, "Under The Same Sun"

Casting Back at 2012

I like naming things: while nothing is ever easily categorized, I like to think in terms of titles. For me, 2012 has been the Year of Unexpected Opportunities. There were so many changes and challenges, but all of them pushed me to grow and to appreciate what I've learned and discovered.

Me and my soulmate ladyfriend in downtown D.C. (love you, Lynds!)

I spent quality time with people I love, and spent more time with family than I have since I left for Australia in 2007.

Me and my partner in crime in Savannah.

I started a new job teaching high school, essentially for the first time. I've had the chance to make vocab  crowns, to have fervent discussions about literature, and to make speeches about adventure.

Oh Romeo, Romeo...who is he again?

Inspiration comes in many forms...

I started shopping a novel around to agents for the first time, and continue to be amazed and challenged by that experience. I finished a novel I'm really excited to revise and get ready to send out into the world.

Where I wrote a lot of Novel #3. 

I travelled to places I'd been before with people who mean the world to me, and loved them all over again. I travelled to new places, and fell in love with them, too. 

It's been an interesting year full of surprises. I'm looking forward to seeing what 2013 might hold!

Thankfulness

When you're stressed and busy, it's easy to forget to be thankful. Being thankful requires that you pause for a moment and reflect on things, which I haven't had the time to do lately. It's been an incredibly hectic last few months for me. Still, as I take a breath and think back, I am fortunate enough to be thankful for many things:

I'm thankful for my family, who are more supportive and understanding than I could ever hope for.

I'm thankful for my new coworkers, many of whom have already become fast friends. My workplace wouldn't be nearly as wonderful without them. I'm thankful for my boss, who is one of the most supportive and lovely human beings I've ever met. I am fully aware of how rare and wonderful a thing that is.

I'm thankful for the chance to get to know my students and see into their hearts and minds. I'm thankful that, during my first out-of-state, weekend-long chaperoning trip, my students chose to sit in my room after dinner and have a three-hour conversation about life and faith and identity. That conversation filled me with such a sense of awe and happiness regarding what I get paid to do, and I'm grateful for that. I'm thankful for the fact that they trust me with their thoughts and welcome me into their lives so that I can become a part of watching them grow.

I'm thankful for my best friends who inspire and enrich my life. I'm thankful that even though some of my closest friends live far away, I am still able to be an authentic part of their lives. I'm especially thankful this year to Tori for being my partner in adventuring and for always, always, making me laugh.

I'm thankful that I am able to support myself without constant worry. I'm thankful to have a home and good food and good people around me. I'm grateful to be able to buy myself nice things sometimes (including the amazing new laptop on which I'm currently typing).

I'm thankful for my passions and my drive; for the fact that even when I am tired and depleted, those fires continue to burn.

I'm thankful for my cat, who forgives me for making him live at Mom's house!

Absense, and Wisdom

It appears as if I fell into a black hole from late June through to early September. I guess I did, in a way, but there were a lot of things going on in there. It was more of a Wonderlandesque rabbit hole than just a black one. Here are some of the more important items:

1. I moved into a new house in the city. I made the move during that weird summer storm that knocked out everyone's power; tumultuous weather seems to like to crop up when I'm making major life changes (at least it wasn't a flood this time...). I'm currently sitting at my new desk, surrounded by open windows, enjoying the sound of church bells and gospel wafting over from the church on the corner.

Mackie: the best dog in the history of the world.

2. I said goodbye to a beloved pet, Mack. Mom got him from the pound when I was maybe sixteen. I remember the day Mom brought him home. He was so excited to be out of the kennel that he spent the entire afternoon wearing a circle into our backyard. As with all good things, he could be a little high maintenance, but he was incredibly loyal and loving. When you looked into his eyes, you saw a human inside him. He was just one of those special dogs that felt more like family than anything else. When I moved back from Australia, our walks together through the woods was the only thing I derived any real pleasure from. He used to run ahead and look over his shoulder, smiling, wanting me to run with him. I miss him every day.

3. I had some incredible and unexpected adventures in new places. I spent a lot of time outdoors and in awe of the world. Here are some of those places:

4. I started a new job that continues to challenge and inspire me. I feel pretty privileged to be a teacher. And that I get to make vocabulary crowns. And that my students actually wear them.

5. I wrote the first draft of my third book - in four months. Yikes!

***

I recently had a few days off to celebrate Rosh Shoshanna. While I'm not Jewish, I enjoyed the opportunity to reflect on all of the things that've happened this year. To think about the things I've learned, and the things I'm looking forward to. It was nice to take a breath and appreciate how far I've come. Here are some pieces of random wisdom that popped up during my reflections:

1. Don't feel guilty about taking time out for yourself. There will always be something you need to do - work, school, bills, whatever. Enjoying an afternoon doing something you love can be just as important as getting 'stuff' done. Sometimes even more so.
2. Using buttermilk in baked goods is always a good idea. It makes them fluffier and less likely to be dry.
3. Travel, travel, travel. Even if it's just a state away. Even if it's only an hour away.
4. When you're feeling uninspired, go outside. When you're feeling frustrated, go outside. Being outside and moving makes everything a little clearer.
5. It's good to have a hobby that's yours and that you can do no matter where you are or what's going on. Writing is that thing for me; doing it always makes me feel grounded within myself, and that's a valuable thing to carry with you.

6. Slow down long enough to crunch those shriveled leaves on your sidewalk, to take a picture of the sunrise before getting in your car, to smell your coffee as it's poured. Otherwise life is just a series of moments rushing by, rather than a series of memories.

7. Try putting cinnamon in your coffee. Try putting Aleppo pepper in...everything.
8. Take the time to write people thank you cards. Not just the big thank you's, but the little ones. Thank people for being encouraging, or for doing the deeds that usually go unnoticed and unremarked upon. You wouldn't believe what an impact it can have.
9. Never miss the opportunity to go for a swim in natural bodies of water - regardless of whether you brought a bathing suit.
10. Unplug yourself from time to time. Step away from your iPhone and listen to the rhythm of the world as it breathes.

Currently writing to: Mumford & Sons - "I Will Wait"

It's A (half) Marathon - Not A Sprint.

You know when you try to get things done and, without fail or exception, they don't seem to work the way you want them to? That's been today.

I'm a bit of a mastodon with my To Do lists - I exist under the belief that if you stomp and chomp away at something, it'll eventually get done well. Today I ploughed 1,000 words into a difficult scene in my WIP only to realize I'd come at it from the wrong angle. Knowing this made me cranky, because it meant having to rewrite a huge chunk of work I'd already done. So I stepped away from it and up to another project. I wanted to paint an old steamer trunk of mine so I got the paint, broke out the sander, and got things underway. It only took an hour to realize I'd gone about the trunk all wrong, too - wrong method, wrong supplies. I have to start over. I even tried to wash the dog with...well, similar results (he's fine, but peppermint bath wash is not his favorite).

I don't like this at all. It's enough to make me want to put on sweatpants and call it a day. Still, there's something to be said for going about something the wrong way. Sometimes you have to go the wrong way to realize what the 'right way' is. Plus, it makes me remember the importance of patience - a skill I'm constantly relearning.

Speaking of which, I ran my first half marathon last weekend. My goal wasn't to run super fast; my goal was, quite honestly, to run the whole time and finish without breaking anything. And, by some minor miracle, I did. In my training I'd only run about eight miles - nowhere near the 13.1 I had to do on race day. I was worried, but it all worked out fine. In the midst of miles ten and eleven (because I'm obsessive like this), I found myself thinking about my writing. Doing something creative - doing anything worthwhile, really - can feel a lot like running a marathon. There are moments when you hit your stride and everything clicks into place, but there are also those miles when you know - you just know - you can't go any further. You were crazy to think you could. But most of the time, you really can. You're just tired and have lost your focus.

I've found that if you keep putting one foot in front of the other and focus on being present - not focused on two miles ago, or one mile ahead, but right in this present place - you'll be surprised what you can accomplish. I always am.

Currently writing to: In My Veins - Andrew Belle

Should Do vs. Driven To Do

The amazing driftwood teepee that, sadly, is no more.

I have been so absent from the blog this month. A part of me has missed it, but another part of me didn't like the fact that it was starting to fall into the dreaded category of something I really "should be doing". 

Having lived an oddly nomadic, sporadic, all-over-the-place lifestyle for the last year or so, I've had a lot of time to think about the difference between the things you think you should be doing versus the things you feel driven to do. There are always things that you should be doing (paying taxes, say...or brushing your teeth). But to me, those are things you have to do. I'm talking about when the things you once loved to do start to feel like obligations. When a job you were excited by becomes an obligation. When this happens to me, it always seems like an ominous feeling. I don't ever do my best work when I come to it begrudgingly: a part of me is wondering why I'm doing it at all. Of course, just because something isn't inspiring you, doesn't mean you should stop doing it. I'm pretty sure bosses don't think "I'm just not feeling motivated and inspired today" is a good enough reason to skip out on work. I'm pretty sure that it doesn't get novels finished, either. 

Still, I recently read Stephen King's On Writing and was stuck by something he said. “They pay me absurd amounts of money,” he observes, “For something that I would do for free”. I think when something you started for fun starts to feel like an obligation, it's starting to lose its point and purpose. Maybe it's time to spend time away from it, to let it become a thing you feel inspired to do. If there's anything I've learned this year, it's that passion and conviction are necessary to make any part of your life thrive, and that "should do" and "driven to do" should overlap as often as possible.

Here are some of the things I've been doing, and that I'm still excited about:

1. I took a week-long Southern road trip with one of my oldest, dearest, craziest friends.

2. Signed a teaching contract.

3. Found an awesome place to move this summer.

4. Made many cards and envelopes out of old book pages/illustrations and started on online Etsy shop.

5. Made dinners and toasted glasses of wine with amazing friends, old and new.

6. Watched my brother graduate.

7. Wrote almost 30,000 words of my new WIP, currently known as UndergroundNovel.  

 8. Taking pictures of Mom's local woods and beach as they get dressed for summer.

Current song obsession: From The Woods!! by James Vincent McMorrow 

Resolutions 2012

It's that time again: time to set some lofty goals for myself to keep me on my toes in 2012. 

I'm pleasantly surprised by how well my goals for 2011 went given the number of mammoth obstacles. I managed to accomplish many of them in spectacular style: I travelled to a several amazing places; I got the opportunity to work with teens; I grew as a writer/editor, and got a lot more comfortable calling myself one.

Hey there, 2012. I've got a good feeling about you.

Resolutions:

1. Finish Novel #2 and start shopping for agents. I'd hoped to have this done by now, but I'm actually glad I didn't. A few extra rounds of editing have made my story so much better than it would have been had I rushed it. I feel confident now that it's the best book it could possibly be, and I'm hoping to be sending letters out by the beginning of March.

2. Write Novel #3. I also thought I'd have this done by now, but major life changes/Novel #2 took up all of my creativity. Last year I still wasn't sure what I wanted this novel to be. But now I do, and I'm really excited to write it.

3. Make photography a bigger part of my life. 2011 showed me how much I love taking photos. So this year I'm going to try and put together one photo collection a month of things that make me feel inspired and share it on the blog.

4. Take myself on a writing retreat. Travel + writing + long walks through beautiful landscapes = my ideal trip. I'd love to go to Ireland or Wales, finish my novel, drink dark beers, and amble along clifftops. Care to join me?

5.  Learn to play the violin. So this is something I always thought I'd do once I retire... I love love love string instruments but have never thought of myself as very musical. But lately I've been wondering why I should wait. My spindly fingers were meant to play something!

6. Run for a cause. I'd like to train for a run this year, particularly to raise funds to help find a cure for diabetes.

7. Get back in touch with Shakespeare. Teaching eighth graders Romeo and Juliet has reminded me how much I love it, and how many of Shakespeare's plays I've yet to get properly acquainted with. I'm hoping to read/see as many of them as I possibly can.

Being Glad You're Alive

I recently celebrated a spate of birthdays, including my own. I'm not really one for getting worked up about how "old" I'm getting, as I think that there's something to celebrate about pretty much every age. But something about 28 made me itchy and forlorn. Maybe it's because I'm in the middle of a transition period, or something.

But then I remembered what I like to tell other people about birthdays: they should be one of the most important celebrations of the year because they are a celebration of your life. It's a day not about turkeys or relationships or past presidents, but a day about celebrating everything that you have been and everything that you are. When someone says "happy birthday!" aren't they also saying "I'm glad you're alive"? This past year has been one of my most tumultuous, but I've seen and done some amazing things amidst the chaos: I hiked in Tasmania, something I'd been wanting to do for ever and ever. I finished book #2. I worked hard at my writing and finally, finally, started feeling like I could call myself a writer. I taught university kids about grammar. I got to spend Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in five years. And now, because life is funny and strange, I find myself teaching creative writing to bright-eyed high school students who look at me like I actually might have something to teach them.

Birthdays give us a chance to reflect and be grateful for the fact that we're alive, which in itself is a small kind of miracle.

And an excuse to make some magnificent brownie treats. These are from Donna Hay, Australian Queen of Desserts. They were so good I made a second patch and gave them to friends and family, who ate them with eyes full of baffled awe. These are glorious treats - if you like chocolate and peanut butter, you should probably make these right this second.

(You can get the new Donna Hay Magazine app for the iPad: November's issue can be downloaded for free.)  

From Donna Hay Magazine, Nov/Dec Issue 2011

Peanut Butter Brownies

from Donna Hay Magazine

(if you don't have a scale, it's easy to find butter conversion charts online. Just Google it.)

v dark chocolate, chopped

v 40g butter

v  2 eggs

v 2/3 cup (150g) caster (superfine) sugar

v 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

v ¼ cup (35g) plain (all-purpose) flour, sifted

v ¼ teaspoon baking powder, sifted

peanut butter frosting (*)

v 1 cup (160g) icing (confectioner’s) sugar 

v 1 cup (280g) smooth peanut butter

v 80g butter

v 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and a pinch of cinnamon (because I put it in everything)

v ⅓ cup (80ml) pouring cream

(* The second time I made these I cut the frosting recipe in half, because the first time I ended up with way more than I needed. Of course, because I can never stand to waste something so glorious, I used it all and ended up with sandwiches you could barely fit into your mouth and discovered that there IS such a thing as too much peanut butter frosting.)

Preheat oven to 180°C (350°F). Put 200g of the chocolate and the butter in a small saucepan over low heat and stir until melted and smooth. Set aside. Place the eggs, sugar and vanilla in the bowl of an electric mixer and whisk for 15 minutes or until pale and creamy (mine didn't take nearly that long). Stir through the flour, baking powder, chocolate mixture and remaining chocolate and allow to stand for 10 minutes. Spoon tablespoonfuls of the mixture, at a time, onto baking trays lined with non-stick baking paper. Bake for 8–10 minutes or until puffed and cracked (watch them carefully, they don't take long). Allow to cool completely on trays.

To make the peanut butter frosting, place the sugar, peanut butter, butter and vanilla in an electric mixer and beat for 6 minutes or until light and fluffy. Add the cream and beat for a further 2 minutes. Spread half the cookies with the peanut butter frosting and sandwich with the remaining cookies. Makes about 12.

America and Awesome Things

I've just moved back to America after a very, very long absence. I'm still getting used to being here... because the US of A is a little overwhelming. 

No offense, homeland; you know I love you. I'm just saying that living in Australia has illuminated some of your quirks. Why do we talk so loudly on the street? Why are we so obsessed with the weather, and what's with all the parking meters? It's not that these are bad things (although, dear Mother Country, there are moments when I want to punch you). I just don't feel like a part of the tapestry yet. It's a strange and discomfiting experience to find that 'home' doesn't feel like it did when you left it.

So I took myself for a walk through lovely Annapolis, Maryland and was reminded of a book my friend Lyndsey put me onto called The Book of Awesome. I haven't read it yet, but I'm subscribed to the website and enjoy the weekly emails immensely. The book originated from a blog chronicling 1,000 small, everyday things the writer thought were awesome. Things like running hugs; finding money in the pocket of pants you haven't worn in a while; finding your lost keys in the very first place you look. These emails always make me laugh because the writing is smart and funny, and because they remind me how many awesome things in life there are to celebrate. Here are some of mine from Annapolis. 

The hugely satisfying CRUNCH of shriveled fall leaves underfoot.

Going into a shop on a whim and finding exactly what you didn't know you were looking for. (A turn-of-the-century hessonite ring, in case you're wondering.) 

Rediscovering a place you used to know and having it feel like it's the first time.

A stranger stopping to tell you how beautiful your photo's going to be, just because they feel like it.

Resolutions, Revised

Ah, resolutions. So easy to make, but they're also easy to lose in the yearly shuffle of other 'things we have to do'. I start my Januarys so full of conviction and intense, goal-oriented feelings, but I start to lose sight of that focus three or four months on. What better way to check in than to go over your New Years' goals and see if they need some tweaking to make them more achievable?

Here are the resolutions I made for 2011:

1. Finish a polished, (hopefully) publishable novel #2 and shop it around to agents.

I think I'm making reasonable progress on this one. I should be done with Torn (first draft) this month (a weekend cat lady-style shut-in may be required), and am hoping to have both Novel #1 and #2 in polished, look-at-me-I'm-pretty status by the second half of the year. As long as I'm not planning to do any agent shopping before Thanksgiving, this should be doable. I think.

2. Develop a professional website and start marketing my freelance writing & editing services.

This is still achievable (theoretically). If only I had the patience for learning WordPress/web design! I would like to be able to draw up my blog on paper and have it magically appear online. Isn't there an app for that?? It would be nice to get this one done this summer. We'll see.

3. Participate in a half-marathon or mini-triathlon.

Umm... I'm working on it? I did a 9km hike up a very steep mountain yesterday. But I suppose that doesn't quite count. Although it really should.

4. Write an adult fiction novel.

10,000 words written (last year), a whole lot left to go. This is going to be an Autumn project.

5. Find a place to nest and make it my own.

This one is not going well and I'm feeling impatient about it. But I'm confident that, if I make it a priority, my time will come for planting things and painting walls. I suppose this goal should read more like 'get a job that pays well enough that I can once again have my own place'.

6. Do some work with kids (maybe coaching or tutoring).

Tutoring is going well, although I wouldn't call my students kids (well, not all of them). Maybe it's time to look into coaching again. Although I've been doing some stellar babysitting these past few months (aka getting drooled on and loving it).

7. Go somewhere I have never been before and write a travel article about it.

I have no idea what kind of travel I'm going to get to do in the rest of this year. I may not make it much farther than the end of the train line... or I could make it halfway round the world. But I think I can certainly make this one happen. Maybe I can even write two articles... too much?

8. Help out wherever I can.*

I feel like I'm letting myself down on this one. I've started tipping at my favorite cafes (Australians don't do a lot of tipping), but that feels like a pretty lame drop in the ocean. Maybe I can combine the marathon running and the contributing to society at large? I love me some two-fers.

So... all in all, I'm still more or less on track. It's going to be a stretch to get all of the bigger writing goals done, but I'm always up for a challenge. I hope your goals and resolutions are still in your sight line!

Novel #2

2010 was the year of many things for me. One of those things was Novel #2 (which, technically, I started at the very end of 2009). I'm feeling a little frustrated with myself because #2 (also called Torn) is taking sooo muuuuch loooonger to finish than I thought it would. But that's not to say I'm not excited about it. I'm really excited about it. I love my characters and my setting a lot, and I'll be excited when I can share it with whoever I can convince to read it over for me.

It's just that I'm feeling a little embarrassed. After finishing Novel #1, I thought I'd learned so much about plot and character arcs and streamlining. That I learned what I'd need to do to make sure I didn't end up with a lumpy, patchwork first draft when I gave this whole novel-writing thing another go. But I can see, without even having finished it, how much work I'm going to have to do to get Novel #2 where I want it to be. But I'm beginning to think that maybe this is my process: write madly, stop and pace and plan, write madly, then copy/paste/partially rewrite my merry way to a story I'm truly proud of. Maybe I'm not the kind of writer who ends up with a first draft that doesn't need to be half shredded. Maybe that's okay.

After more than a (very tumultuous) year, I've got about 20,000 words left to go. So, for the purposes of inspiration, I thought I'd Wordle the 50 most-used words in my manuscript.

Here's to finishing my draft by June!

Someone Save Me (From Myself)

Life gets tough sometimes. So much so that we want to disappear.

Some people disappear with naughty things like booze and random dalliances with muscly strangers. Me? I read. I've always thought this was a fantastically wholesome habit. What's better for a hurting spirit than a good 'ole dip in the literary pond? But then I started reading when I should have been doing other things. Like applying for jobs. And working on my writing. And eating proper meals off plates.

I read to get away from the stuff I don't want to deal with. Sometimes that means I'm spending over half a day reading instead of being a productive member of society. And I find myself wondering: is there a point when a book addiction becomes bad for you? Has that point been reached when you try to read and do dishes at the same time? Or when you actually contemplate skipping a shower because hygiene takes up valuable reading time?

My name is Kate Armstrong, and I'm a readaholic.

Resolutions 2011

I've been just a little slow in making new years resolutions this year. I usually start thinking about these things around my birthday, but Christmas heralded some really unfortunate, game-changing events that temporarily took away my will to live, let alone to make resolutions. But now that the Year From Hell is officially behind me, I'm game to start setting some new goals for the road ahead. I'm pretty passionate about that fact that goals are important, no more so than when your life has been turned upside-down and shaken.

So here are my resolutions for 2011:

1. Finish a polished, (hopefully) publishable novel #2 and shop it around to agents.

2. Develop a professional website and start marketing my freelance writing & editing services.

3. Participate in a half-marathon or mini-triathlon.

4. Write an adult fiction novel.

5. Find a place to nest and make it my own.

6. Do some work with kids (maybe coaching or tutoring).

7. Go somewhere I have never been before and write a travel article about it.

8. Help out wherever I can.*

* I was incredibly moved and inspired by my friends and family this year. They extended themselves in a million different ways to help me; their thoughtfulness really blew me away. I was so wrapped up in my own issues during the Brisbane floods that I don't feel like I helped out as much as I could have. I'm making a promise to myself this year that I will help those who need it where and when it is within my power to do so, whether they be family, friends or strangers.

A Tribute to Fall

I'm really missing the good old USA, as I do every year around this time.

(Burnside Bridge, Antietam, 2008)

(Antietam Battlefield, 2008)

It's funny how nostalgic we get about our place of origin when we are no longer there to hate on it and tell it it's boring. And oh, how nostalgic I get. About the riot of color as leaves start to die, the pervasive smell of burning wood, new school supplies, pumpkin-flavored things. Leaf crunching opportunities. It's almost too much.

... which is why, when a fantastically glorious friend sends me a VAT of Starbucks pumpkin spice syrup (definitely not meant to be sold as retail, but my little Brown beauty has tricks up her sleeve), I get a little overwhelmed. See?

So here's a little something I wrote after my travels in Europe about leaves and change and... well, coming home. Happy Fall, everybody. I'll be home soon.

A Dying Season

Most of my childhood travel memories are overcast by nausea. It always rose quickly during my family’s drives through the Blue Ridge Mountains. I'd ride the s-bends with my fingers stuck out the window, green face reflected in the bug-smeared glass. But even between bouts of Dramamine-induced coma, I remember the scenery clearly. As we wound through the mountains, past the multi-layered rock shelves speckled with moss, we would all grow quiet, captured by Virginia's autumn foliage. Nature's dying season would sneak up on us when we weren't paying attention - first in yellow hazard yellow bursts between boughs, then a sprinkling of pale pink and ochre. Then Fall would smother us in one fluid motion, trees exploding as if on fire. The leaves shouted through the silence, cut only by Lyle Lovett crooning through our car's speakers.

Being a child of the temperate world, I was used to the wonders of seasonal changes: the smell of snow approaching, the feel of new leaves between fingertips. Even so, every year at my great uncle's farm in the mountains, I would lie beneath the trees staring up in eternal awe at sharp outlines of yellow leaves against blue sky. Fall's colors captured me in a way the other seasons didn't. When I went to college on Virginia's coast, good autumn foliage seemed to get harder to find. The season seemed to have grown inexpressive with the passing of time, which made me sad, because I needed the season. Adult cares were heaping themselves upon me, and change was becoming a frightening thing. I started to wonder if I'd dreamed those brilliant farmhouse days. My Fall exhilaration was fading as the leaves did: quickly and dispassionately along the overpopulated highways.

It was October 2006 when I arrived in Switzerland seeking refuge. It was my first trip to Europe, to which I fled to escape the change that had been ravaging my life. Interlaken may be a small town, but it boasts a long and impressive list of death-defying activities. I was happy to stick to the dangerous realm of Scootering, which was daring enough to satisfy me. But when a good-looking Australian offer to take you paragliding, it's kind of impossible to say no. Compared to canyon jumping, it seemed like a safe bet. Our van ride up the mountain was like one of my family's Blue Ridge trip on amphetamines. As we screeched around our sixth or seventh blind curve somewhere near the speed of sound, I began to wonder what I'd gotten myself into. And if I was destined to puke in the good-looking Australian's lap. Once we'd reached our destination, though, I was ready to soak in the scenery. So when Andy, the overexcited Swede strapped to my back, told me to run down the very steep hill towards the tree line, it seemed like the right thing to do. That was before I felt our collective weight being bounced around as our parachute opened and my legs barely missed the tops of the pine trees. I am no fan of heights, a fact I only remembered once my feet were thirty feet above the ground. The cold air pressed against my fearful heart.

Then, it happened: suddenly I was flying over the foliage of my childhood. Lake Brienz, a cerulean blue diamond glistening before us, was crested by a world set on fire. There were the waves of yellow, spotted and flecked with russet and burnt orange and flushed pink. Each leaf was its own revolution, rioting alongside its compatriots, streaming together while standing alone. Up there, surrounded by the most significant of nature's changes, it hit me: that thing that had always captured me about Fall's changes. Autumn always showed me that life's transitions shouldn't be a source of fear. Times of change hold a beauty all their own, filled with untrodden pathways, chances for us to grow and explore. Change allows us to open our eyes, stop looking ahead or behind, and enjoy the thrill and novelty of simply being alive.

I think the peace I found in those farmhouse days, and that moment in the Swiss Alps, had to do with much more than the beauty of the seasons. Though they were temporary, and always will be, they held a hint of the eternal. They helped to make my childhood feel unhurried. They allow me to return to it still, to rest in the understanding that the process of changing, in nature and in life, is a beautiful thing with the potential to reveal to us the most beautiful parts of ourselves. How strange to stumble back onto that knowledge so far from the mountains of my youth. How lucky.

Going To Rainbow

I had the chance to go to Rainbow Beach last weekend, a beautiful, quiet beach lined by huge sand blows. I stayed there with a girlfriend, Misty, which was a welcome infusion of estrogen. It's been so long since I enjoyed a girls weekend. We ate and drank (well, she's pregnant - I drank) and talked, talked, talked. It gave me a chance to think about what I want to accomplish in the remainder of the year. So I'm saying it here (thus making it more likely that I'll actually do it): I'm going to finish editing Spellbound by my birthday and novel #2 by Christmas. Take that, full-time employment.

Now, on to some pictures. I've been having a lot of fun playing with my new camera. Misty is an awesome photographer, so I got to pick her brain and learn about depth of field and manual shooting.

Attempting to play with depth of field. (I call it my 'go balls deep' picture.)

Storm clouds over the sand blow. We climbed one of these and the view was spectacular.

One of the most beautiful pregnant women ever.

Books Just Make the Greatest Present

I'm a big fan of birthdays. The last few months have seen a lot of friends and family members birthdays come and go, so I've got them on my mind. I may not always remember whose is on what actual date (I'm getting better... right?), but I think they're a pretty big deal. I don't why people want to pretend they're not happening. If you're going to stand up and celebrate anything, you should celebrate the day you were born. It's a celebration of the fact that you're alive. On what other day do you get to sip wine with the people who love you and have them rejoice in the fact that you are, well, you?

I'm also a big fan of giving books as presents. Yes, they're generally heavy and you can't guarantee that the person will like/not have read a particular book, but I can't think of a gift that is more personal. Personal, you say? Really? Yes, really.

I never give books that I haven't read. I only give books I've loved. By doing so, I'm giving that person something that has moved me, brightened me, inspired me, even shaped me. That book says a lot about me, about who and where I was when I loved that particular story. It is a window into my life and my passions, given in the hopes that it will serve the same service for them as it did for me. It also says a lot about my relationship with that person, because for me a book I've loved is a way to strengthen the bond between me and the friend I'm giving it to. It's me saying, "This book illuminated my life. I want to share that light with you."

There are people from my past who have given me books that have turned into beautiful keepsakes, more treasured than some of my oldest pictures and cards. When I open The Sheltering Sky and Catch-22, I remember the teachers who believed that I was something special. When I flick through Into The Woods and Dandelion Wine, I remember the good friends who love and have loved me. When I look at The Fledgling, Mom feels less far away.

Books own a special kind of magic. They're a great way to tell someone you're glad that they're alive.

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

Good old V-Day... one of the silliest holidays of the year. If I have to see one more add in which some dude gives his girlfriend some shiny piece of jewelry that makes her cry, I might start twitching. I have to say, though, that this holiday does serve a purpose in that it reminds you to tell the people you love that... well... you still love them. People like to be reminded of these things.

So, here's to some of the people I love:

My family, because even if I didn't 'have' to love them, I would love them. Because they're great.

Eve, for being an amazing and constant friend. I can't wait to read your new blog about Japan!

Aliya, for designing this blog and for being an inspiringly creative and fabulous friend. Check out her design blog and her regular(ly awesome) blog.

Lauren, for making me laugh (and for making me look super fly). Check out her makeup business and blog.

My camp friends, because they each brighten my life more than they know.

Kaitlin (my oldest) and Lyndsey (my newest) besties, for always being there.

My Manfriend, for holding my hand through life.

I hope you all enjoy your Valentine's Day, no matter who you're with or what you're doing. Do something splurgy. Indulge in yourself.