Monthly Archives: March 2018

Best of March 2018

31 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in Best of

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Sunset over Lake Chicot

Sunset over Lake Chicot

For quite a while this month, I thought the best day would be the first day. It wasn’t that there weren’t many other nice days, interesting places, and good people along the way, but on the first day of the month, I picked up my friend E at the airport and we sat on what used to be her back porch and talked for hours. I don’t get to see E very often, so it was simultaneously extremely nostalgic of another time in my life and really nice in the moment. I probably made us some food and it was probably salad of some sort, and I’m quite sure we drank kombucha.

It set a high bar for the rest of the month.

Various other moments along the way gave it some competition: I had a lovely afternoon in St. Augustine with C; I had a day in Reed Bingham State Park in Georgia that I described as “joyful, exuberant, grateful,” which is a pretty nice day to have; and I loved wandering the dirt bike trails with Z in in Trace State Park in Tennessee, which is where I found my blue jay feathers.

But as the month came to a close, it looked like my Best Of was still going to be Day One.

Until yesterday.

It started yesterday morning when, after days of rain, the sun rose into a clear blue sky. The temperature was about 50 degrees, so it was chilly, but spring was just exploding all over the place. All the trees are shooting out leaves, so fast that they look different from one day to the next, but they’re still in the stage where the leaves are tiny and elegant and beautiful. Feathery fragile leaves, instead of an indistinguishable mass of green.

I took Z for a good walk and we finally found the nature trail. For obvious reasons (rain, rain, more rain), I hadn’t looked for it too hard earlier in the week, but it was such an incredibly beautiful spring day yesterday that we kept walking until we found it. Of course, I shouldn’t have been remotely surprised to discover that it was mud central. The whole point of a nature trail is dirt and all the dirt in this campground was sopping wet. Despite the mud, we started down the trail, into the woods, and within fifty steps, I knew we wouldn’t be going much farther. White dog, black mud, limited access to water and laundry machines… I wanted to explore but I did not want to spend the next hour trying to get Z clean before she jumped onto the bed.

So I was just about to turn around, with my eyes focused on the muddy ground, when we startled a herd of white-tailed deer. Not a huge herd — maybe six of them? Maybe eight? They went bounding off through the trees, splashing into the puddles, toward the east, into the rising sun, with the light reflecting off the water and the green all around them… It was surreally lovely. It was like a scene in a movie that you know has been filtered and faked and never really existed like that. Except there it was, existing like that, so incredibly purely gorgeous that I just stood there in the mud and blinked.

I thought fleetingly of grabbing my phone to try to take a picture, but it would never have worked. I wouldn’t have captured it — not without also somehow capturing the chill in the air and the bird sounds that completely surrounded us and the smells of spring and the movement of the deer and even the way my heart was pounding a little from the surprise of discovering that we weren’t totally alone in our little wilderness.

Later in the day, I met a kid in the road. I use the term “met” loosely. I passed a kid in the road. I smiled and nodded and said, “Hi,” and he smiled back at me and said, “I like your dog.” I wanted to clap my hand over my heart and swoon and say, “YES!” The kids who said “I like your dog” were one of my favorite parts of Arkansas last year. I’m so glad that’s just a thing here. I find them so endearing.

And then still later in the day, well… the sun set. See above.

Along the way, it was a delightful day. I did good writing, including writing sprints with friends online, which I always love. I ate good food. I defrosted the freezer and cleaned out the fridge. I washed dishes. I wrote some more good words. I worked on a project that’s exciting and a little bit scary that I will tell you more about later. It was a good day, bookended by incredible beauty.

Today I woke up to the sight of the full moon shining on the water. I’ve read books where moonlight makes a path on the water. I’ve probably even seen pictures. But seeing it in real life was almost as startling as the deer. This picture doesn’t do it justice, because it looked huge in reality and the colors were much more vibrant. The path of yellow looked solid and bright, instead of just a trace on the water.

Full moon over water

And so, Lake Chicot State Park and the very last days of the month (I’ll hope for the best for the rest of today!) become my Best Of for March 2018.

The wisdom of a feather

29 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Campground, Randomness, Serenity, Zelda

≈ 5 Comments

I started counting the number of birds I could see from my window — like, right outside the window, fifteen feet away — and then something startled them and they swooped away and I realized that all the things I thought were dark leaves on the ground were actually small birds. I’m going to say — 200? 300? Not a countable number, that’s for sure. Sadly, they’ve now all moved on, but that’s probably a good thing for my productivity, since I find watching a flock of birds to be surprisingly compelling.

The last time I was in Arkansas, I got the very last space at an absolutely packed campground, Lake Catherine State Park. It was lovely, but it was spring break and it was crowded. Since this is Easter weekend, I decided that this time I’d be a little more proactive and I made a reservation at Lake Chicot State Park for five nights, taking me safely through Easter.

Ha.

I’m going to say that last year, lots of Arkansians looked at the weather, decided it was a glorious time to go camping, and headed for the park. It was a glorious time to go camping. This year, those same Arkansians looked at the weather and decided it was a fine time to hunker down in their houses. It so is.

The campground is pretty close to deserted and also pretty close to drowned. The puddles are like lakes. The lake is not overflowing its banks, fortunately, but there are a lot of semi-underwater trees. Even Zelda, who doesn’t usually mind getting wet, stood at the open door of the van this morning and then decided against her walk.

Fortunately, my deserted rainy underwater campground is also very green and pretty. Loads of trees, all in early-spring mode instead of tail-end of winter mode. Light green leaves and life bursting out all over the place. So I’m not finding it spooky, I’m finding it charming. I’m helped just a little in this by the fact that I checked out the bathrooms this morning and they are terrific. I might have to take a shower every day just because the bathrooms are so clean and nice and new.

I’m slightly less enthusiastic about the fact that even though I paid for a full hook-up site — not a thing I do very often, so in the nature of a pleasant luxury for a holiday weekend — the separate pieces (water, electric, sewer) are positioned poorly for Serenity. Technically I have all three, but I have to choose which one I want to be connected to at any given moment. My hose isn’t long enough to reach from the water outlet to the van intake while the power is plugged into both the van and the power outlet, and ditto the sewer. So it goes, I guess. At least I have access to all three if I need them.

And I’m feeling pretty fortunate on at least one of those three. When I got here yesterday, I couldn’t get the electricity to work. I called the campground host, who sent someone down to take a look, but it was raining and he couldn’t figure it out. They moved me to a different site, and then a third site, so it started to look like the problem was Serenity, not the campground. I was not so happy. I can live without power for a while if I have propane, but because I expected to have power, I hadn’t refilled the propane tank. Frustration!

And then, for no reason I could see, the electricity started working. Based on the symptoms, the smart people in the Travato Owners FB group suspect that I might have a problem with my Automatic Transfer Switch — maybe a loose connection? — but it’s working now, so I’m just counting my blessings and hoping for the best.

blue jay and cardinal feathers

Speaking of blessings, did you know that it is illegal to own most bird feathers? It still feels magical to find them, though, especially when they are truly beautiful. It would never have occurred to me that picking up a feather could be a crime, but after I’d picked up the above, I was remembering the park ethos — take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints — and so I left them behind. Well, first I googled to find out whether something in nature would use leftover bird feathers — was I leaving them behind to simply decay and rot? — and that’s how I found out that feather possession is a crime. They probably will simply decay and rot, but I’m glad I got to appreciate them first.

Along the way, I stumbled across all the many spiritual meanings of blue jay feathers. I suspect the spiritual meaning of feathers is sort of a choose-your-own adventure spirituality, because wow, people sure have found a lot of deep significance in some poor bird having a misadventure. But I was pretty amused by one site that told me the meaning was to “Choose a couple of the many projects on your plate and complete them.” How perfect is that?

Time to listen to the wisdom of the feather!

Cozy days

26 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Campground, Chicken, Food, Soup, Sous Vide, Travel

≈ 6 Comments

I woke up yesterday to a gray, rainy, chilly day and thought, “I have got to get out of here.”

I woke up today to a gray, rainy, mildly chilly day and thought, “Oh, what a good day to snuggle down into my cozy nest and write a lot.”

I’m really not sure what the difference is. I had a nice lake view yesterday and you’d think that would have satisfied me. I’m speculating, though, that green is the color that matters. Yesterday’s campground was gravel and dirt, gray tree trunks, dead brown leaves, slate water, overcast sky. Today’s campground is some of the above (although not the water), but also spring green grass and forest green pine trees. Plenty of brown in view, too, but it doesn’t feel Gothic.

Another difference might be technological. I had no Internet connection and no cell service at yesterday’s campground. I’ve actually quite enjoyed being without internet at points in my travels — it pushes me to be present, to appreciate where I am, instead of mindlessly browsing FB or reading news stories that I instantly forget. But only, I suppose, in places where I feel safe. In general, I like knowing that if I need help, it’s a phone call away.

So, yes, today’s cozy nest includes internet browsing and probably some texting with friends. It also includes some cooking. I picked up chicken breast on sale at the grocery store yesterday, and I’ve already got my sous vide churning away. Two experiments: one with lime juice, yogurt, and mint, and the other with parsley, cilantro, garlic and olive oil. The danger with sous vide chicken is having the flavors be too strong, so I’m a little worried about the garlic version, but if I hate it, Zelda will be very happy to have my leftovers.

As soon as I finish cooking the chicken, I’ve got some corn-on-the-cob ready to go in. I’m quite excited to try it. I thought the sous vide corn I cooked last summer was close to the best corn I’d ever eaten, and it was late summer corn. This is, I hope, very early summer corn, nice and fresh, so it ought to be even better. I’ll see, I guess!

I’m also debating a scallop soup. I’ve got bay scallops in the freezer that need to be used up, but so far I can’t decide between a spicy ginger-lime scallop soup — maybe with rice noodles? — or a chowder-style soup with coconut milk and maybe some curry. But I bought a mix of gluten-free cheese biscuits at Aldi a few weeks back and I think the soup winner might be whatever would go best with the biscuits. The nicest part of mildly chilly days is that using the oven doesn’t cook us, too.

So, yep, cozy day in Mississippi ahead of me. And with some good words on Grace to go, too!

Anthropomorphizing birds. Or just projecting.

25 Sunday Mar 2018

Posted by in Birds, Campground, Randomness, Travel

≈ 2 Comments

Canadian geese

I woke up to the sound of Canadian geese complaining. Then I spent the next several minutes sleepily castigating myself for negatively anthropomorphizing birds. Surely they were honking or calling or murmuring. Then I woke up a little more and realized that it was still the middle of the night and those birds were definitely complaining. Not sure what they were complaining about — were they drifting in the water? Was some raccoon disturbing their slumber? But they stopped their complaining and I went back to sleep and eventually, when I woke up again, their noises were much more like daybreak murmurings.

I’m in Tennessee, currently at a Thousand Trails campground on the Natchez Trace. I was driving yesterday and remembering the last time I was in Tennessee. I thought then that the state would probably be really pretty in about two more weeks, in spring, but that at that moment, it was bleak and grey, trees all ugly spires of bare trunk with dead, hanging leaves that should have dropped months ago. When I reached my destination, I looked up the date I was last here — coincidentally, but not surprisingly, it was March 24th of last year. The exact same day.

And yeah, I think this state will probably be really pretty in two more weeks, but today, it is the epitome of March showers. Overcast, mildly foggy, everything looking gray. Not pretty, but lovely in a very Goth sort of way. The kind of lonely beauty that makes cups of tea seem highly desirable.

I was planning on spending more time here, but I think instead, I’m going to drift my way south. Or maybe west. But first things first: Z wants her walk.

And later.

I walked Zelda, got back to the van, and instead of making myself some coffee and starting the day, I packed up the van and got on the road. The campground was probably a perfectly nice place. But it’s the kind where people have annual memberships and leave their trailers at their sites year round. Stuff accumulates outside the trailers. Not necessarily bad stuff — potted plants and lights and chairs, golf carts and grills, holiday decorations and signs. But time and weather and entropy combine so quickly to turn pleasant vacation gear into shabby, run-down debris. It didn’t just feel like a trailer park, it felt like an abandoned trailer park. Half depressing and half spooky.

(The bathrooms, however, were excellent — clean and shiny new — and the view was terrific. I had a waterfront site with a lovely lake view. If the weather had been nicer, it might have been a perfectly nice place.)

lake view

So I got on the road and headed south, along the Natchez Trace. It’s a scenic highway along what was once a trail used by bison, Native Americans, and early settlers. At 8AM on a Sunday morning, I was pretty much alone on it and it was lovely. Absolutely peaceful and beautiful. I took a couple breaks along the way, went to a grocery store in Tupelo, Mississippi, and then found myself a campsite at Trace State Park.

I picked the park based on the fact that I like state parks, that I didn’t want to keep driving, and that the sun was showing through the clouds when I walked out of the grocery store. All excellent reasons, but it turns out that somewhere within this park is the birthplace of Davy Crockett. I’m sure there are reasons to disapprove of Davy Crockett these days, but the Disney song is running through my head. And I just read the wikipedia entry on him and he was the only representative from Tennessee to vote against the Indian Removal Act (aka Trail of Tears) and was thanked for it by a Cherokee chief, so yay. I will continue humming cheerfully.

And even though the sky has clouded up again, I feel much happier here. The lake is currently gone — undergoing renovations apparently — so my waterfront spot is really just a “looking out onto a grassy pit” spot, but it is peaceful and quiet. I remember — again from last year — sitting in a campground somewhere in the south and realizing that there are places where those noisy birdsong relaxation medleys that always sound so fake are actually real. This is one of those places. If it weren’t for the hum of the computer, the only sound I’d be able to hear would be the birds chirping and squeaking and whirring and making all those different mysterious sounds they make. Not complaining, though. They sound quite happy! (I could be projecting, though. 🙂 )

No tornadoes

22 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Campground, Grace, Travel

≈ 3 Comments

a distant waterfall

Looking down, down, down…

So, anyone read about the tornadoes in northwest Georgia? Probably not, because the whole country seems to have been having exciting weather. Turns out there was a reason the ranger was instructing me on safe locations. Fortunately, although I am just about as far north and west as one can get in Georgia, the actual tornadoes hit to the south and east of me. I was never even really worried.

But the weather has mostly not been nice and also not what it was predicted to be. When I decided to come this far north, it was because my weather app was promising 70 degrees and sunshine. That would have been nice. Instead, it was 28 outside this morning! The app actually said 28 degrees, at the same time as it promised that the coldest temp of the day would be 34. Grr…

The good news is that long days holed up inside the van because it’s too cold or too wet to be outside are very good for writing. I’m at one of those points in Grace where I text my friends little snippets of dialogue because I am so very, very amused at my characters. Unfortunately — or fortunately? — they’re now headed in a totally different direction than anything I’ve ever expected them to go in, or that they’ve ever gone before, so I’m once again looking at those 30K words that are already written, that I really thought I was going to be able to re-use, and sighing. Not re-usable.

On the other hand, the characters are having fun and fun is good. If I ever finish this book, it will be a very weird book. But I am going to let go of it and let it be a weird book. Re-reading my Eureka fanfiction reminded me of how much I enjoy weird and how surprised I have been to discover how many other people have enjoyed my brand of weird. Variety of weird? Type of weird? “Brand” feels like marketing-speak, the kind that makes me cringe.

There was something else I was going to write about, but I don’t remember what it was, ha. So I’m going to go back to writing Grace, because my characters have been hanging out in a kayak for weeks now and today is the day where they might finally paddle to shore. That’s totally not a metaphor, at all.

But every time I get grumpy about the weather, I’m going to remind myself that it’s not tornadoes. Or blizzards. Or mudslides. Perspective is everything!

PS I remembered! I was going to write about that waterfall up there. Alas, our explorations have not been as fun as I hoped, because a) weather and b) a lot of the trails have these steep staircases, made of metal stairs with holes in them. Z’s paws are the perfect size to fit right in those holes, so she doesn’t like them. One time — in Texas maybe? — she actually slipped partway through and I was really worried that she’d break her leg trying to escape before I could help her. So we don’t walk on that kind of stairs. If we did, though, we’d be visiting waterfalls! But the weather was clear enough today to see them from above. Not quite as fun as seeing it up-close, but given how cold it is, I probably wouldn’t want to get all that close anyway.

Cloudland Canyon State Park

20 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Campground, Travel

≈ 10 Comments

I picked my current campground based on its pretty name: when I read it, I envisioned a land of fluffy white clouds, pristine blue sky, some sort of magical hopping from cloud to cloud over deep ravines, probably birds in pretty colors. You know, a sort of fantasy “Cloudland Canyon.” The anime version.

Duh.

A cloudy scenic overlook

I should have been picturing fog. Dense, heavy, impressive fog. Yep, that’s a scenic overlook and probably there’s sometimes something nice to look at out there. But today it was just clouds. A Land of Clouds.

Worst fog I’ve ever driven through, too. I spent a solid ten minutes in almost total white-out* debating whether it would be worse to be rear-ended because I was driving too slowly or rear-end someone because I was driving too fast. I was going at least twenty miles under the speed limit at the time, so I guess that sort of indicates which I chose. But I did think I might still be driving too fast.

  • I think white-out refers to blizzards, actually. Grey-out? What’s the word for when visibility is almost nil in fog?

I’m also not terribly enthusiastic about the ranger making sure to tell me where the safe places to take refuge from the weather are. I mean I guess it’s better to know that than not? Well, yeah, of course it is. I just hope it’s knowledge that I don’t need to have.

All that said, I am definitely looking forward to doing more exploring. Zelda and I took a quick walk after we got here, down to the main scenic overlook, and even though we couldn’t see a darn thing except for clouds, the walk was terrific.

path through the campground

Even though I know those stone steps are probably a sign that this was a Conservation Corps park, they make me think of fairy tales and monsters and shimmering borders between worlds. Magic!

Being angry

17 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in Personal, Zelda

≈ 14 Comments

I expressed my anger today. I was surprised at myself — I am someone who rarely admits to being angry, even when I am. I try to talk myself out of it, I tell myself it’s not justified, I look for the other person’s point-of-view… but this time, I was just too pissed off to not say something. I suppose that might be because it was on my son’s behalf, not my own, but still, it was unusual for me.

A few years ago, I did some intense therapy workshops where we did “anger exercises.” I was not good at them. Like, seriously, terrible. I mostly just cried. Completely incapable of defending myself with anger, even when it was justified. And even with this — I’m so angry that my hands are shaking, but I also feel like, oh, I shouldn’t have said anything, I should be more understanding, blah-blah-blah. But I think the therapist at my anger workshop would probably be patting me on the back and saying “good job.” Since she’s not here, I will do it myself. Good job, me!

The details: his paternal grandmother died this week. They were close; he’d spent a lot of time visiting her one-on-one. I would say that she was the grandparent that he knew best and certainly the one that he spent the most time with. His father and uncles scheduled her memorial service for two months away — on the weekend of his college graduation! This is a kid who was diagnosed as profoundly learning disabled at 8, who was maybe never going to learn to read because his disability was so severe. His college graduation is an achievement, a triumph. And they care so little about it, about him, that they plan her memorial service for the same time. Yeah, I’m angry.

When I started to write this post, I was actually going to write about how the nature noises of my campground — many nature noises! — have changed to neighbor noises with the weekend. Loads of people on spring breaks, I think. Lots and lots of little kids. I liked the nature noises, but I like watching all the kids on their bikes, too. This morning, when I took Zelda out for her walk, it was also the time when moms of toddlers take the toddlers out so everyone else can get some sleep. Toddlers can have southern accents. That should have been obvious, but wow, a toddler with a southern accent is adorable.

I’d intended to go for a good walk. I brought the camera and even the water bottle for the dog, so that we could hike for miles. But Zelda refused. It was both funny and charming. She sat down, head cocked, ears up, indicating quite clearly that she was not walking the way I was headed. I think the boardwalk probably has fewer interesting smells for her, since it’s above the wetlands and less used, but she was determined that what we were doing instead was wandering around the campground and letting her smell every interesting post. There are many posts. It was a slow walk. Not at all what I’d had in mind, but the toddlers made up for it.

Reed Bingham State Park

16 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in Campground, Randomness

≈ 5 Comments

spring in leaves and flowers

“… early spring, when the first leaves are at the bottom of the trees and they seem to float in space in a wonderful way…” – David Hockney, on wanting to paint spring

Zelda and I went on a three mile hike today, through pine scrub forests and wetlands, along a boardwalk and a bumpy, tree-root-filled dirt path. And some paved road, too. It was glorious. It was not, however, our usual first thing in the morning walk, because a) it was COLD at 7AM, here in Georgia, and b) it was also crazily dark.

Sunrise was at 7:44 AM, which I know because I asked Alexa. That’s actually a solid 32 minutes later than sunrise wherever Alexa thinks I live, which I know because while I was staring out my window at the barely lightening sky, we had this conversation.

Me: Alexa, what time is it?
Alexa: It’s 7:08 AM.
Me: Alexa, what time is sunrise?
Alexa: Sunrise is at 7:12 AM.
Me: So why is it so dark outside?
Alexa: …
Me: Alexa, why is it so dark outside?
Alexa: Sorry, I’m not sure.
Me: Alexa, what time is sunrise in Adel, Georgia?
Alexa: Sunrise is at 7:44 AM.
Me: Wow, that’s weird.
Alexa: …

She is not always the best conversationalist. Still, it’s pretty cool that from the comfort of being buried under my covers — two blankets last night for the first time in months! — I can find out what’s happening with the sky.

Anyway, Z and I wound up taking a quick walk, then coming back to Serenity for breakfast and miscellaneous chores. Well, I did miscellaneous chores. Zelda had a nap. But around lunch time we went for our walk and it was spectacular. Probably about fifty-five degrees, with spring popping up around every corner: those pink flowers, and yellow flowers, but also just the early green leaves starting on bare branches. It made me very happy to be in a spring that felt so spring-like.

And I’m happy to be on the road again, too. I really had a lovely last couple of weeks in Florida: I got to spend time with lots of friends, and finished it off with a couple fun days with family. Movies and interesting food and writing with friends, some great conversations and coffee dates — what more could anyone want? But apparently I also want nature and bird song and for the van to be connected to a safe water supply.

And long walks through interesting terrain, the smell of my neighbors’ campfires, and starry, starry night skies.

Magical Eureka

12 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Randomness, Travel, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

I saw manatees this week.

At least, I think they were manatees. They were big gray lumps, breaking through the surface of the water and then disappearing again. Too big to be otters, which was my first thought. Too inland to be dolphins or whales, which would have been my second, if I’d been at the ocean.

I wasn’t at the ocean. I was actually at a lake whose name I don’t know, but which is right down the street (more or less, a few minutes drive away) from a driveway that has been a very regular campsite over the past four months.

It made me think about magic. And adventure. And the difference between them. But also, more importantly, about needing to remember that there is magic right around the corner, all the time, if we just remember to look for it.

On Wednesday, I’m finally starting my travels again — heading north, with plans to explore Georgia and Arkansas and the states between the two. (That vagueness is because I could hop up to Tennessee and drive across Tennessee to get to Arkansas, or I could stay farther south and drive through the northern ends of Alabama and Mississippi. I think which I do might depend on the weather, might depend on what sounds interesting along the way.)

My Arkansas destination is Eureka Springs. Why Eureka Springs? Well, why not? But that’s not the entire answer. This weekend I got an email from fanfiction.net, a review on one of my last Eureka stories. It was really good timing, because it reminded me of what happened in 2010. I had given up on writing fiction, almost a decade earlier, because… drum roll? … nothing I wrote ever satisfied me. Much like I’ve done for the past three years, I wrote in circles, I over-wrote, I edited to death, it was never good enough. Writing was an exercise in frustration, not a satisfaction or a joy. And so I quit writing.

Then I fell in love with a television show, Eureka, and more specifically a relationship on the show and wanted desperately to know what happened next. I discovered fanfiction. But none of the stories were quite the one that I wanted to read, so I wrote my own. And then I wrote more, and then I wrote more, until I had written hundreds of thousands of words of fanfiction, with stories that ranged from a few thousand words to full-length novellas of 35,000+. But I had a strict rule, which was that I didn’t edit. I wrote and I let go.

Literally, I would write during my free time and then before I went to sleep, I would post what I’d written. I never went back and questioned myself, I never edited, I never agonized over plots — it was all spur-of-the-moment, top-of-my-head, as fast as I could write, writing. I wrote in 1000-word blocks and then I shared them. Are the stories perfect? Nowhere close. Are they fun, fast, readable, entertaining, creative, amusing… yes, all of the above.

I need to get back to that kind of writing. I don’t know whether I can entirely, because one of the joys of writing fanfiction was the community, the instant-feedback from supportive readers. I don’t know how many times my author notes on those stories say things like, “I wouldn’t have written this if it weren’t for reviews from x, y, z,” but it’s often. Really often. Those reviews motivated me.

But I also look at the stories and I didn’t worry about grammar, about perfection. I’ve got sentence fragments and run-ons, dialogue-style construction in narrative, adjectives used with blithe abandon, and jumps in point-of-view whenever I felt like I needed to be in a different point-of-view, sometimes with breaks but sometimes just done. And all those things work just fine. I just wrote and let go. So that’s my new resolution for working on Grace, to write and let go.

And I’m going to Eureka Springs, because I saw the name on a map yesterday and thought, Yes! I want to go back to Eureka. It won’t be the same, but as long as I’m on my way there, I’ll be reminding myself every day of what it meant to me to be living in Eureka.

Reading binge

08 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Grace, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

At 8:42 AM, it was 53 degrees inside Serenity. I’m very pleased about this, but I sort of wish I had fingerless gloves, because my hands were so cold that I was finding typing un-fun. Still are, in fact, even though it’s almost two hours later and probably ten degrees warmer.

In the first week of March, I read twenty books. I’m not sure I’ve had a more extreme reading binge since childhood, when I basically did nothing but read all summer long. But the library had the first sixteen books by Ngaio Marsh, and then I moved onto their supply of Lisa Gardner, with minor diversions along the way for the new Patricia Briggs, an old Nora Roberts, a rather boring Elizabeth Moon, and a single Tamora Pierce. It is probably a good thing that the library doesn’t have the second 16 books by Ngaio Marsh or I would still be reading. Also probably a good thing that I have to wait my turn for the rest of the Lisa Gardner books: I think she’s got 30 books available, some of which I had previously read, some of which I have on hold now, and the rest of which I read this past week.

Yesterday I finally remembered that I’m supposed to be writing, not reading, and opened up my file for Grace. Well, it had actually been open all week, but every time I looked at it, I winced and turned back to the Libby app instead.

But I think my reading binge was good for me. When I was re-reading Grace in order to get back into writing Grace, I was unexpectedly willing to forgive myself for a lot of my perceived writerly sins, because all of the books that I was reading contained plenty of writerly sins themselves. There’s no such thing as perfect. It isn’t even about being “good enough,” whatever that is. All that really matters is how the reader answers one question: “do you want to keep reading?” And I’m pretty sure that even if Grace never quite makes sense, never has a typical plot, never makes anyone’s heart race, at least a few readers are still going to answer “yes”, because the world is a good place to be and the characters are fun to hang out with.

And now I am going to go hang out with them.

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