My Life in Paragraphs

Choosing Your Own World

On Wednesday I attended a book fair at our local community college to represent and sell my books.

I have to tell you that as a writer, these experiences are the worst and the best. The worst being the preparation (packing, finding everything, schlepping it all over there) and then sitting there hoping people will stop at my table. Many people hurry by, averting their eyes, or smiling apologetically, making me feel like a sleezy salesman pushing overpriced, cheap products.

I feel awkward, uncomfortable, ridiculous, and I pretty much always tell myself I’m never doing this again. The handful of sales I’ll make are never worth the time and torture. And really, why do I have to do it? Will it make any difference in the big scheme of things? Will it make or break my ‘success’ as a writer? ~~Probably~~ definitely not.

But then there are moments that remind me of the best part of writing. A little girl, probably 10 or 11, appeared in front of my table with twinkly eyes and a shy smile. “I found you!” she said.

Getting My Sparkly Back

Lackluster.

That’s how I’ve been feeling lately.

Maybe it’s my age. At fifty-six (fifty-six!), I’m feeling what everyone probably feels at this age—past my prime.

Everything is harder.

My Little Free Library Dream

My dream came true.

I am now a steward of a Little Free Library!

In An Instant

In all my years of living in the country, driving skinny back roads through the woods and past expansive cornfields, dodging deer and the occasional ground hog, I’d never actually hit an animal.

Until this past Wednesday.

In fact, miraculously (and not to jinx them) no one in my family had ever hit a deer. So maybe we were due.

Writing or Wasting Time?

Are you wasting all your time with all these words? #areyoustillwriting #amwriting #writerswrite

I have gotten out of the habit of writing.

And serious writing depends on just that—habit. Not waiting for inspiration or time or a good night’s sleep or a better outline or the dog to shut up or until you take some class/webinar/retreat.

Writing requires that you sit down and do it. No matter what. As often as possible, every day if you can. You start where you are and spill your jumbled thoughts, wandering storylines, and vast emotions on the page. Your fingers tap along as your heart and mind try to make sense of it. (or maybe that’s just how it works for me.)

If you keep going, pressing past the doubt and frustration and discouragement and that little nagging bird fluttering all around you chirping that you’re wasting so much time, if you wave her away and type on, I promise something will come of it.

Fuzzy Boomerang

Last night I got the call.

Once again, my bad boy horse has outworn his welcome. This is the fourth time, I’ve sent him to a new home, with great hopes that this would be the one, but like a furry boomerang he is coming back. Only this time, I don’t have a pasture to put him in.

I’m Enough

I’m jumping off this crazy merry-go-round of publishing and promoting. Enough is never enough, but, you know, I am enough. #amwriting but #amdonepromoting

I’m losing my gumption for writing.

Or at least for publishing.

I can’t imagine myself ever not writing. The publishing part, though, it drains my soul.

As much as I want my stories to land on the hearts that need them, I am tired of how ‘less than’ publishing makes me feel.

It’s an incredibly competitive industry and one that is skewed towards the people who

Why Woodstock?

“Why Virginia?”

Everyone asks this.

Actually, they ask, “Why Woodstock?”

All I can say is that ever since visiting the Shenandoah Valley fifteen years ago to run a trail race, it’s had a hold of me. I came home from that first trip having run the mountains, discovered wineries, stomped divets at a polo game, meandered through tiny downtowns, and soaked up the quiet and peace, I told Nick, “You have to come to Virginia with me.”

What Happened When I Stopped Running

This past year has felt a bit surreal. As if the world was unplugged and we are collectively holding our breath, waiting for it to be plugged back in and spring to life like my laptop after a hard shut down.

Some writers I know have been absolutely unable to write. Their worlds disrupted understandably.

I was not one of those writers.

How Can You Raise 20K Really Quick When It Really Matters?

Hey, it’s been a minute since I last wrote, hasn’t it?

Lately I’ve been distracted by a HUGE project that is exciting and scary and so, so important to me. It’s a dream I’ve had ever since the first time I stepped into a southern animal shelter and saw what was happening, and thought, “How the heck can this be going on in this country?”

This country is big-hearted, generous, and completely obsessed with dogs. How do I know this?