Farewell, my Prince

Growing up, I had two separate lives. There was my school life, with one set of friends and family, and then there was my summer life, with different friends, a different family, in a different part of the country. There were times I felt like two separate people, these lives were so at odds.

In one, we were poor and indulgences were few and far between. The other left me feeling spoiled, like I could have everything my heart desired, where fridges were full and there were weekly trips to the mall, where I was allowed to choose things to take home. I almost always got music or books, reading Anne of Green Gables, Sweet Valley High, listening to Madonna. In one world I was often left home alone, the apartment my domain. In the other I was surrounded by grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, the Morman family next door with their eight kids, including one of the best friends I would ever know. In that world I had the run of two towns, where I could cross state lines on my bike all day long.

It was my summer life in Minnesota that first introduced me to Prince. His Minnesota connection made the state embrace him in a way the rest of the world just couldn't. His songs were always on the radio. MTV played his videos all the time. When 1999 came out in 1982 I was at the age where I was beginning to discover music on my own terms. His voice, his music, became a part of the very person I would become. (Even if, at the time, the true meaning of the lyrics were completely missed by my young mind.)

When Doves Cry was the song I chose when I did karaoke for the first time. Prince's soundtrack to the 1989 Batman was the sole reason I was obsessed with the movie, (and possibly its best quality). To date, whenever I hear the opening notes to Raspberry Beret or Batdance I am instantly transported to the red house on 14th Street whose living room saw all my best dance moves.

Last month I was back in Minnesota, taking care of my grandmother who is fighting her battle with cancer. We were at the Roger Maris Cancer Center for appointments and treatments on April 21st. The infusion was going to take several hours and so while she rested I went for a walk to get some food. When I returned, Fox News was on and a few minutes later they broke in with the announcement of Prince's death.

At first I was stunned. In my mind he is forever the twenty-something talking about the girl who walked in through the out door. How could he possibly be dead? Wasn't he one of the few who would live forever?

And I guess, it is a truth that being an artist does make you an immortal. Even after the last breath, the body of work the artist leaves behind will continue living its own life.

I watched the news, already emotional because the appointment with the doctor had not gone as well as we'd hoped, grateful to have the camouflage for my tears.

On Facebook and Twitter I watched as the news began to spread through my friends and celebrities, all the artists and writers I follow. I was not the only one whose life had been influenced by Prince. His admirers were widespread and there were many responses and many tributes.

That night I sat by myself in the living room, the same living room in the red house where I'd watched countless Prince videos growing up. I watched as MTV played video after video, including live performances. I scrolled through social media, feeling less alone as I began to grieve the death of someone I had never met, knowing that the emotions inside me were twisted and tangled, about more than the loss of one great artist. I came across the following tweet by @ElusiveJ:

Thinking about how we mourn artists we've never met. We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves.

What a profound truth in less than 140 characters.

It is no exaggeration that books and music have saved my life, have made me a better human being, have taught me empathy, have broadened my world view, have allowed me to experience things far beyond my own life. Music has pulled me out of what Anne (of Green Gables) would call "the depths of despair."

Even in a world without Prince, I know that in the dark days that are yet to come, that are forever haunting the horizon, I will still have his music and it will make me dance, it will make me smile, and it will remind me there is always hope and always inspiration.

"I've seen the future and it will be
I've seen the future and it works
And if there's life after, we will see
So I can't go like a jerk"

Watching MTV's tribute to Prince, April 21st, 2016

To NaNo or Not To NaNo (that seems to be the question)

This past year my blogs have been few and far between. I've narrowed the cause to several likely culprits, some more serious than others. It's been a challenging year and one that has caused me to pause and focus inward, to withdraw from public view, to be quiet. Instead of sharing my life and my loves here, I've kicked it old school with a journal and the satisfying scratch of pen on paper. I've been writing selfishly, not publicly.

It's been a time filled with reading*, writing, traveling, listening to music. I've been to some amazing concerts and the happiest place on earth (Hogwarts, duh!). I've been inspired and challenged by some amazing writers. I've walked hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles. I've laughed to the point of tears and cried to the point where I felt hollow. It's been a year that has changed me.

Now, somehow, it is the very end of October with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) visible on the horizon. Months and months ago I had grand plans to be at a different point in the editing process with the project I've been working on. I wanted to have this version done by the end of September so I could spend October planning what I would work on in November.

But then, life. And this time it wasn't a question of time. I had time. I had more of it in some ways than I had been expecting. What I didn't have was the mental and emotional space to do the work. After much internal debate, I decided to give myself a break.

A few people have asked me if I was planning to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. My answer has been, "Probably not." I have said things about how I don't want to start something new when I still have so much work on my current project. I've talked about how I don't want to make the same mistakes I've made before when it comes to the issues of Story and Plot. I've said that I will use this time to edit.

Probably.

What a wishy washy kind of word, lacking in conviction and commitment.

Last week, while I was writing in my journal and thinking about what it would be like not to participate in NaNoWriMo for the first time since I started (2009), I came across an idea. It's one that I've imagined before, a kind of experimental type of piece and the more I wrote about it the more excited I became and the more I thought that maybe participating would be the best thing for me and my writing, the best way to get me back into my daily habits of writing/editing.

I told myself to give it a week and see if the idea grew any roots.

I reminded myself of this Ben Folds inspired post I wrote in 2012 when I was debating the very same should I/shouldn't I question.

Seven days have passed and there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about this idea and all the ways it might be exactly the project my writing life needs.

Here is an unsolicited truth about me: I don't give myself permission to fail.

That truth has been a double edged sword my entire life. It's held me back just as much as it's pushed me forward.

What does it mean for NaNoWriMo? In the past it has meant that if I start, I can't quit halfway through. I'm either in or I'm out. If I sign up, I'm going to find a way to finish, to hit 50k no matter what.

This year, I think I'm going to do something different. I'm going to try. And if that turns out to be a mistake, I'm giving myself permission to fail.



*A list of a few favorites from this year include: Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen, Bone Gap by Laura Ruby, The Game of Love and Death by Martha Brockenbrough, The Wrath & the Dawn by Renee Ahdieh, George by Alex Gino, Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple, After You by Jojo Moyes (see this blog re: the first book), The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness, Illuminae by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff, and Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. Yes, this list is YA heavy, but some of the most interesting story telling is definitely happening in this category.

Walking among the fallen.

Home

It's been several weeks since I had the time, the space, the motivation to write a blog. There has been so much going on in my life. We bought a cute house that suits us very well and left a home we'd spent the last nine years in. It's been an interesting time, to say the very least.

I've learned a lot about myself through this process. I am the kind of person who needs a place to call home. I moved around quite a bit as a kid. By the time I was in 4th grade I was on my 4th elementary school in three different states. This last house was the longest I'd lived anywhere in my entire thirty something years.


To be honest, I didn't think I was ever going to be able to leave it. I didn't think I wanted to leave it.

But it was time and it was right so we packed up our life of nine years and moved the eight blocks over to our new house. And within 24 hours we were unpacked and I was home.

And it surprised me how quickly this new house felt exactly like home.

So I've been thinking and remembering.

I am adaptable. While I may not always welcome change, it's usually not that hard for me. I make a home wherever I am. As long as I have the people who love me, the walls don't matter. The cliche is true. Home is where the heart is.

And now that I'm sleeping through the night, now that I have a porch with a comfortable space to write and a cup of coffee, I'm ready to look forward. I've got writing to do, and lots of it.

I've run out of excuses and the odds are in my favor.

I have time. I have vacation coming up over the next two months that will give me the extra time and space to do what gives me the greatest joy.

You see, there is a part of my home that is simply me. And sometimes it's me with my fingers tapping against the keys, eyes on the screen, imagination running wild. 

Home Sweet Home

Thankful

The hour is early. The sun is finally flirting with the horizon and soon it will be morning. I've got a cup of coffee in a lovely mug crafted by two people I love who love me in return. I've got my good headphones on and I'm listening to some of my favorite Josh Ritter songs and it's hard not to be hopeful.

I have a good life. A really good life. There have been times that have been better than others. I've had my share of tragedies and heartache. Tough times. But the good has always outweighed the bad and in the end, I always come up feeling grateful, thankful.

Today is Thanksgiving and I can't help but think of all the reasons I am fortunate. I think of them often, I truly do, but once a year I like to list them. 

I am thankful for all the people who take the time, energy, effort, and faith to follow their creative path. Whether you're Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Josh Ritter, J.K. Rowling, or somebody trying NaNoWriMo for the first time. Whether you write, draw, sing, make ceramics, knit, or take photographs, to do the things you love to do, that you need to do, is not always easy. It doesn't matter whether or not you share your work with the world. Sometimes following a dream is the most daring, courageous thing you can do.

I am thankful for the privilege of having spent time and conversation with some of my favorite authors over the past year. I have been inspired. I have been challenged. I have laughed. I have felt hopeful.

I am thankful for being able to buy books and the time to read them, think about them, share them.

I am thankful for friends and family who are generous with their time and with their love. Friends and family who make me laugh and remember that I'm not alone on this journey.

I am thankful for a husband who loves me and who I find myself loving more and more, who makes me laugh and who has patience enough to understand and accept me, despite any faults.

I am thankful for the sweetest, kindest, funniest, cuddliest black dog in the world.

I am thankful for the Nerdist Podcast for making me laugh, challenging me to explore new interests, and for making my commute infinitely more rewarding.

I am thankful for LeakyCon and the way it brings such an interesting community of people together to share their fandoms, to laugh and to dance. 

I am thankful for warm socks and comfortable shoes, Legos, wool blankets, long walks, blue skies, green grass, rainy days, Cards Against Humanity, Pitch Perfect, hammocks, the way snow falls silently, fireplaces, fresh cut flowers, tomatoes still warm from the sun, a cozy chair with a view of the ocean, iPhones, the luxury of a new laptop, dresses and skirts with pockets, handcrafted cocktails, the sounds of laughter, a gentle breeze on a lazy afternoon, Gary Larson, naps, fountain pens, and so many, many other things.

What I like to remember.

Feeling Inspired

It's Sunday morning and the sun is rising over the clouds to fill up this room with its bright warmth. I lit a fire in my tiny fireplace, poured some french pressed coffee into my favorite mug, wrapped myself in a blanket, and sat down in my favorite chair to see what this day will bring.

I am inspired.

I am feeling invigorated after some time off, much of which was spent exploring familiar places in a new way and new places in a familiar sort of way. I walked along the ocean's edge with friends both real and imaginary.  I slept in a room inspired by a world created by Jules Verne and it was magical. I ate delicious food. I read books. (Eleanor & Park is as amazing as everyone has said it is.) I visited bookstores. I met writers. I wrote a new chapter!!!

Then I returned to work. It was a good, if not exhausting week. There was lots to do both professionally and personally. I saw my littlest (though hardly little) brother who was home for spring break. I got caught up with writerly friends I hadn't seen in far too long and I went to a really incredible book launch for the new YA fantasy/adventure Poison by Bridget Zinn.

Poison is her debut novel. Bridget Zinn died in 2011 from cancer. Laini Taylor shares a bit about Bridget and the book here. It was an amazing event, filled with really nice people, including Bridget's husband and her dad. I couldn't suppress the tears that emerged as Bridget's husband did the introduction and I didn't want to. I kept thinking about the experience through his eyes, wondering what it would be like to go through this book launch without her. Three local YA authors, Sara Ryan, April Henry, and Laini Taylor each read from the book. I can't wait to finish it on my own. (Sidenote: I want Laini Taylor to read all my bedtime stories!)

I've gotten to know Laini Taylor a bit over the last few months from working with her on her event/school visit and from seeing each other at events both in my store and at other stores. I had printed out a photo I took from her event last November where her ridiculously adorable daughter Clementine sat on her lap and made books for people out of Post-It Notes. When last night's event was over I debated whether or not I should give the picture to her and was seriously contemplating just leaving when the voice in my head reminded me that sometimes the best things happen just outside of our comfort zones.

That little voice was right. I went over and we had a great conversation about everything from the Veronica Mars Kickstarter (of which I am VERY excited about) to upcoming events and her planned hotel writing escape. She also told me a secret I am super excited about. Hopefully it will be made public soon! (Spoiler: It's not about her books or movie development.)  It was lovely to talk with her and she even gave me a hug! (The fangirl in me nearly fainted.)

Today I will spend some serious time working on finishing my book. It's time. I think I'm ready (though there is that part of me that is still scared like hell that I'm going to fail). But the truth is, these characters aren't going to let me go until I get their story right. And this past week they shared a few crucial details that I'd been missing. I'm hoping Holden & Jezebel's enthusiasm can see me through.

From the launch event for Bridget Zinn's book launch. Clockwise: Laini Taylor, Sara Ryan, Portland YA signed copy, and April Henry.

Taking a Deep Breath

Today is one of those rainy days where the rain pelts the roof and comes down sideways. I'm wrapped in a blanket, nestled in my favorite chair in the library, sitting in front of a fire while the scent of fresh Daphne wanders about the room. Zelda is curled up in a tiny ball on the floor in front of me and it's hard not to let go of all the silly, stupid things and focus on the joys that life brings, the simple pleasures my privileged life provides. There is no question that I am fortunate.

I've been pretty quiet around these parts for a variety of reasons. I've had a lot of distractions pulling me in some different (and difficult) directions, along with a few deadlines that needed to be met. There's nothing like a nearly 600 page book to read (and a restricted time to read it in) when there is already so much going on. At least it was a great read! (And one which I am not allowed to talk about for nearly two more months...sorry!)

The good news is, things are finally calming down. My schedule is clearing up, I've got a couple mini-vacations in the works, and some actionable thoughts on finishing this manuscript. It will happen and it will all happen very soon.

But for today, what I need to do is breathe. I know it's impossible to live without breathing, just like I know that it is entirely possible to cease breathing in a necessary way. So today I will draw the breath all the way from the very tips of my toes until it is time to exhale, letting it go, along with all the pain, the anger, and the frustration.