The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

If you’ve known me for any length of time, you probably know that I love office supplies. Like a dog loves walkies. Like a hummingbird loves that red sticky stuff in the feeders. Yeah.

Well, it’s that time of year again. Better than Christmas. The time when the department stores put their office supplies on sale. They think it’s for kids going back to school. Actually it’s for me.

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Since perhaps I went a little overboard last year, this year’s haul of office supplies was a bit more modest. I’m especially excited about having a new planner. My current one ends this weekend, and I feel what’s probably an undue amount of panic at the idea of not having any white squares in which to write my life schedule. I’m also quite excited about a new pack of Flair pens. Besides being great for book signing, they carry a weight of nostalgia for me. My grandmother loved these pens. I remember reading a birthday card written in that thick, bold Flair script every year as I was growing up. Oh! And a 750-sheet pack of printer paper. Because, you know, printouts of my new novel…

But I dare you to figure out how a hole punch and a pack of binder rings helps me teach vocabulary.

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This sign was my unexpected happy find. Now it’s hanging on my wall. It was probably intended for teachers setting up their classrooms. But I think it’s just a good guide to using words in general. And I like words.

What’s your favorite school/office supply? 

How Writing Works (Or: Practicing and Paying Attention)

On this lovely April day, I’m pleased to say I’ve committed the first several thousand words of the third book of The Voyages of the Legend to paper! After several months of collecting images, building a writing playlist, and preparing my outline, I’ve at last begun to write words down.

And it’s been a bumpy couple of weeks. Finishing The Illuminator’s Test last December was like cresting a steep mountain trail, full of exhaustion and accomplishment. Starting the third book was like finding myself back at the bottom again. It’s intimidating to try to compete with your past work. I’d gotten rusty. And sequels are hard: it’s a challenge to work with the same world and characters, but pit them against new challenges and even higher stakes.

My first attempt at an opening paragraph was so bad I was discouraged for two days.  The second attempt was better, but still extremely lackluster. Now, on my third go-around, I’m finally striking a pace and tone that I enjoy. And already the characters are beginning to spring surprises on me.

Getting back into the rhythms of writing has me thinking about what writing is made of, what it is. Pick up almost any how-to book on writing, and you’d think writing is a checklist that just takes practice and willpower. But I also think there’s something more. Writing is both a craft and an art.

The internet is saturated with books, webinars, articles, etc. on the craft of writing a book: the nuts and bolts of what goes into a story. Some of them are quite good. I’ve been to a number of classes, conferences, and critique groups that have helped push my writing to a higher level. It’s important to learn the nuts and bolts of wrangling good sentences out of the English language (or at least asking her respectfully for them). And it’s very helpful to study the works of other writers and learn by imitation. I work intensively with my students as they learn the craft of writing: paragraphs, similes, research, punctuation, character profiles. This part is work, and it can and must be learned by instruction and labor-intensive practice. With enough practice, it is possible to achieve a level of excellence in the craft of writing.

But writing is also an art, like painting, like music. And art is a gift. To write well is not only to work and create; it is also to receive. For me, starting to write again is learning again to be open to that gift: taking time to slow down, to be still, to listen, to be in the dance with God. For writing to be anything more than an underpaid day job, a meaningless clacking of fingers on keys, it must be sourced from something greater. That means that being a healthy person is part of good writing. That means that taking time to absorb and appreciate beauty is part of good writing. None of the small moments of life are wasted if seen with eyes of attention. It’s an attitude of cultivating readiness to meet inspiration. In short, living is writing, and writing is living.

I’ve created a new writing space in my office that, I think, reflects this pairing of practicing and paying attention. It’s businesslike enough for all-day scribbling sprints, yet it’s also right next to a window that looks out on the reflective world.

New writing desk 4-15

…And now I’m going back to write there.

Even on Tuesdays, Dreams Do Come True

About 11 years ago, a hopeful teenager bought a red sign that said “Future Award-Winning Author At Work.”

She hung it on the doorknob of her cave during writing sessions. It motivated her, kept her optimistic. (It also warned the family not to disturb her unless the house was burning down.) She wondered if someday she’d be able to cross out the word “Future.” As she prepared to release her first novel about a year ago, she even blogged about that dream.

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Well, yesterday it came true.

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At about 11 AM, I received The Call, informing me that The Illuminator’s Gift had won a silver medal in the Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards! I entered this award back in July and was just coming to the conclusion that nothing was going to come of it (as many of my contest entries have over the years). But some dreams do come true, even on Tuesdays!

Among 1,300 international, independently published entries, The Illuminator’s Gift was second place in the Best First Book (Chapter Book) category! The full listing of contest winners is here (TIG is in category #38)! I’m over the moon (no pun intended) with excitement. Writing books, while full of passion and purpose, can be a long and lonely road,  and validation from the outside is a welcome exhortation not to give up. Especially since there’s a lot left to do on Book #2 before its December release…

After a dizzy day of trying to work in spite of sheer euphoria, texting friends, and celebrating with family, perhaps the sweetest moment was when I took my gold sharpie and did something I’ve dreamed of doing for a very long time. I crossed out a word on my red sign.

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I’d like to send this photo back in time to my shy, geeky high school self, the girl with the pimples and the big vocabulary, who wondered so often if her dreams would ever become reality.

Hang in there, girl. Believe in the gift you’ve been given. Someday the future will be the now.

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Office Supply Love

After books, some of my favorite things are office supplies. As a self-employed writer/speaker/editor/tutor, not only do I need these tools for my trade(s), but they also make me really happy.

Like really, really happy. Probably way happier than a normal person should be about lots of paper, plastic, and ink. But normal is overrated.

Because smoothing the pages of a blank planner, cracking the plastic on a new box of post-it notes, opening a fresh dry-erase marker–these are the signs of new beginnings, like daffodils in a California January. With this new batch of tools, who knows what new starts I could make this year?

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I’m serious about my office supply shopping. I wait for back-to-school sales, compare bargains, then stock up for the whole year. This year my brother and I even made a date of it. He deserves a medal for waiting with great patience as I stood waffling in the notebook aisle.

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The best part of office supply shopping, obviously, is choosing pens. Though it’s also the hardest. Good pens are like good friends–with you through thick and thin. Nothing irritates me like a pen that gives up in the middle of a battle scene or that writes inconsistent sentences.

My new love is the Sharpie pen, which I discovered when I started signing books last December. It’s a fine-point, felt-tip pen with an absolutely consistent ink flow, just like a regular Sharpie. But unlike a regular Sharpie, it doesn’t bleed through paper. I meant to keep my supply specially for book signings, but found myself reaching for them all the time. So now I have them in 6 colors.

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My new love.

I feel like a dragon in a treasure cave. Happy day.

Refreshing Creativity

Don’t forget: tomorrow, May 3rd, is California Bookstore Day! Come visit illustrator Amalia Hillmann and me from 10-12 at Village House of Books!

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This adorable nook is located at 326 Village Lane, Los Gatos 95030. Free parking can be found off Bachman Avenue.

There will be book signings, food, balloons for the kids, and a chance to see the original Illuminator’s Gift artwork! It’s also a great chance to show support for a local independent bookshop. Downtown Los Gatos is a fun and walkable community, so stop by VHB, then keep wandering! 

A day of writers + artists + independent booksellers will = a lot of creativity.

Which leads me to poet John Donne’s famous line, “No man is an island.” (Or woman, for that matter.)

Especially not a creative man or woman.

Much of creative work is solitary in nature–writing, painting, sculpting, knitting, composing. I actually really enjoy this aspect. Too much time with people can wear me out.

But not enough can wear me out, too.

I’ve lately been encouraged by meeting with a few other creative friends. Last Friday we got together for dinner and a chance to collectively discuss/pursue our endeavors.

Creative Night 2

A calligraphy artist, a painter, a video game designer, a knitwear designer, and a writer sat around a table, ate cookies, talked about canvas stretching and fountain pen brands, made geeky jokes, and occasionally fell silent to be productive.

Creative Night 1
Photo credit: Juliet Nicklin

It was such a fun and inspiring night that I wrote a haiku about it:

Creative Night

Swish of pencils, click

of needles, tick of pages–

nerdy artist friends.

Sometimes, it’s other people who refresh our own creativity.

Hobbies vs. Passion

Singing is one of my hobbies.

From an early age, I’d wander around the house singing—sometimes my favorite Disney hits; sometimes tunes of my own making. A Christmas pageant director once told me I had perfect pitch. I took a few voice lessons and sang on my church’s praise team as a teenager. I even ended up in my college’s women’s choir.

When I was younger, I thought I wanted to make this dream into a career. I thought I wanted to be a singer.

But today it’s a hobby.

I still absolutely enjoy singing (especially when the Frozen soundtrack comes on in my car).

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But I knew singing wasn’t my passion when I realized I didn’t want to work at it. Glittering stardom and singing my heart out for a packed arena of fans sounded okay. But music theory classes? Hours spent in a practice room?

Ick. It would kill the joy of singing for me.

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Photography is another hobby of mine. My family got our first point-and-shoot digital camera in 2004, and almost immediately my finger was glued to the shutter button. I’d never enjoyed analog photography, because when my packet of prints would come back after 2 weeks, half the shots were invariably blurred or featured my finger across the lens—and by then, of course, it was too late to fix them.

With the help of the digital LCD screen, though, I began to play with composition, lighting, and color—knowing I could delete the hundreds of bloopers without cost or frustration. I learned a few things from friends and from books, and for high school graduation my mom upgraded me to a camera with many more capabilities. I did photo shoots for friends and family and even a few paid gigs. I thought about becoming a photographer.

But the fact was—

I didn’t want to work at it.

I may still be the family’s designated cameraperson, and taking pictures with friends is still one of my favorite pastimes. Unless otherwise credited, all the images on this blog are mine, and I’m glad I can make them decent.

But classes and books on color theory and darkroom technique? Lugging around loads of equipment and small-talking about white balance and f-stops?

No thank you.

That kind of work would take the joy out of photography for me.

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Storytelling is my passion.

I didn’t always know that. There was a time when I thought writing was my absolute nemesis.

But with some tastes of success, some writerly friends, and some encouraging teachers, I began to feel like I could be good at writing. I began to like it. Suddenly, around age 14, I realized I loved it.

At first, I didn’t want to work at it. I wanted my first drafts to be magically perfect (hey, wouldn’t that be nice?).

But as my confidence grew, so did my willingness to edit, to accept critique. I took classes, formed writing groups with other teens. I read books that inspired me. And soon it became evident.

Writing wasn’t just a hobby. It’s my passion—my calling—my vocation.

And when you find that one consuming passion, you’re willing to work for it. Even if it means cutting up a whole story with scissors, shuffling the pieces around, and rewriting.

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“I want to be a writer!”

I hear that a lot.

In elementary schoolers, I encourage it. A dream is something that can fuel you, give you direction. And I’m biased, but I think writing is a wonderful dream.

For older students and adults, though, I add a few words of caution:

Know the difference between your hobbies and your passion.

Not that I don’t want people to become writers. It’s a path filled with beauty, energy, and excitement. I wouldn’t choose any other.

But the road is also paved with risk, anxiety, isolation, and sacrifice.

And to stay the course without losing your joy, writing has to be your passion, not just a hobby.

 

Have you found your passion? What other hobbies did you dream of making into careers?

 

Rest along the Road

What’s the purpose of your life?

The thing that’s bigger than yourself–your mission, dream, calling, purpose, the something that you alone feel uniquely designed to do.

Maybe it’s writing a book (harrumph). Maybe it’s spiritual growth. Maybe it’s investing in a relationship. Maybe it’s leading a ministry. Maybe it’s raising a child (or a few). Maybe it’s spending a year backpacking across the country, like my friend David. Maybe you don’t have a clue, but you’re seeking it. Something you were born to do. Something you believe in, that gives you purpose, that makes you feel alive.

Purpose is a great thing. Without it, we constantly ask ourselves, “What am I here for?”

But journeys of purpose are big. And big journeys take time. Lots of time.

As time passes, energy drains away. We lose sight of the distant, big-picture goal because our myopic vision gets crowded with small failures, hiccups, hardships, naysayers…and tiredness. Just plain road-weariness.

Photo credit: Chaz Harding

I read this story about the Biblical prophet Elijah today. Talk about someone with a big life purpose. But at one point he said to God, “I have had enough, Lord” (1 Kings 19).

Had. Enough. 

Photo credit: Soon

The long road of pursuing purpose can leave us feeling burned out like fire-gutted stumps. Elijah was so fed up with chasing purpose and feeling like a failure that he wanted to die.

God’s advice, delivered by angelic messenger?

“Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.”

God even sent Elijah an ancient Hebrew Happy Meal to get him started.

Photo credit: Stefan

Before God urged Elijah forward in his journey of purpose, the prophet’s immediate needs had to have some attention. He ate some food. Took two long naps. Went away to Mount Horeb for some refreshing alone time. Spent time in the presence of God. Found a helper.

And THEN he was able to go back to full time prophet-ness. Proclaimed God’s words to difficult people. Did miracles. Made history.

There’s a lot on my plate right now, especially as I look to move forward with my writing career. Maybe there’s a lot on your plate, too. But Elijah’s story encourages me.

The strength to carry on, to continue down that long and worthwhile road, may be closer than you think:

Eat food. Get sleep. Take some time away to refresh. Be in the presence of God. Get a helper.

Or, in the sweet and simple words of my friend and fellow blogger Anna Taylor: Peace, darling.

Purpose is a long road. So pace yourself. Rest along the way. You’ll make it in time.

How do you find rest along the way of purpose? 


On This Day…

Ever look at your calendar and remember what you were doing on this day, one or two or three years ago?

Three years ago (well, April 25), I found myself in church. In western Ireland.

With only about 10 regular attendees, there were more people buried in the churchyard than alive inside the service. It was rather quiet. 

Aftewards, some friends and I went horseback riding! I hadn’t been on a horse since I was eight years old (when veterinarian topped my list of career choices).

This horse was named Rua (Gaelic for “red”). As we neared the hilltop, she bolted. Bouncing around, as in control as a sack of flour, I clutched the English saddle, watching my life flash before my eyes…and arrived at this incredible vista of clear sea and sky (with the Blasket Islands visible across the bay).

Having survived our adventure, we limped off, saddle-sore, to reward ourselves with…

…the world’s most amazing chocolate cake! Murphy’s is an Irish ice cream/sweets shop that makes absolutely the best chocolate cake in the world. If you’re ever in Ireland, find some. It’s an especially good way to forget about being saddle-sore. 
I still miss Ireland some days. Especially when I think about what I was doing on this day two years ago: editing my senior project in college. 
With scissors. Helps rustle up the necessary ruthlessness. No better way to visualize transposals or deletions. I also think I killed an entire rainforest’s worth of post-it notes. But I graduated!
One year ago, I was…

…at my desk, finishing the second draft of my novel. I’m now partway through the fourth draft, which (I hope) will be the last. Maybe this novel will see the light of day before I start getting a senior discount on my office supplies. 
And today, I am here, typing up this blog post:
Freelance life may not often take me across the world on exciting adventures. I don’t often find myself bolting up hills on a runaway horse or violently editing a story with scissors. It’s not every day I get to celebrate the accomplishment of a completed novel draft. But my imagination doesn’t starve. And that is a blessing.
What do you see when you look back at this day in past years?

When I Grow Up, I Want to Be Everything

Did you do one of these posters in kindergarten?
I did. I remember it well. 
In the bottom left-hand corner was a space to write what you wanted to be when you grew up. The walls of the classroom were papered with posters of kids who wanted to be firemen OR police officers OR ballerinas. 
I wanted to be ALL of those things. And ALL the rest of the things. In fact, I remember one of my first existential quandaries: if there are only seven days in a week, how on earth will I find enough time to be ALL the things I want to be when I grow up? 
The solution, of course, was to have a different job every day of the week. Phew. Solved that one. I would just be an astronaut Monday, a teacher Tuesday, a farmer Wednesday, etc. (Yes, farmer was one of my kindergarten career choices. I blame it on Laura Ingalls Wilder.)
My childhood fantasy
Well, some life happened and I discovered that I don’t particularly like heights, lesson planning, or cow poop. That narrowed down the career choices substantially. Plus, majoring in EVERYTHING in college would have taken me a little more than four years. 
But little did I know that some weeks, I would get my kindergarten wish. 
Like this week, for example. 
Most weeks of my life are pretty interesting. For work, I juggle a balance of tutoring/proofreading/blogging/copy editing/novel writing, and I like doing all those things. But last Wednesday, I added a new job to the mix: knit modeling.
My super-creative friend Audry asked me to model one of her creations for the top-secret book she’s writing. It turned into an all-day adventure that blew desk jobs out of the water. First, we got to ride in the golf cart. Move over, Mr. Toad. 

There were also the wild animals–er, interesting features of the landscape. (The heap of sticks on the left, apparently, is a wood-rat nest. The thing in the purple sweater is anybody’s guess.)
Photo courtesy of Audry Nicklin

We needed to find horses for the photo shoot, which ended up entailing half an hour of trekking through backwoods trails (don’t worry, we had permission). But when we found them, it was well worth it. One of them tried to eat the golf cart, but this one just wanted carrots. I ended up getting horse cuddles in the bargain. 
Photo courtesy of Audry Nicklin

Laura Ingalls would have been proud. 


Does your line of work ever throw you surprise adventures?

(P.S. Audry wrote up her own take on the day. To hear her side of the story, click here.)

Turning Down the Heat

You may wonder where I’ve been this week.

I’ve been learning to rest. 
Workaholism, I read somewhere, is a drug just like nicotine or caffeine. It’s a stimulant we use to hide our exhaustion, our depression, our frustration. It keeps us busy so that we don’t have to think about what’s going on below the surface, what’s wrong with our pace of life. 
But it’s only a temporary fix. The busyness only keeps a lid on life to a certain pressure point. After that, all the junk we’ve been sitting on–anxiety, estrangement, dissatisfaction, disappointment, uncertainty–overflows like a boiling pot of spaghetti that explodes in a sizzling deluge all over the stove. 
So if overworking, outrunning our problems is only a mask, how do we deal with them? How do we keep our internal pots from boiling over? 
I still have a lot to learn on this topic, but I took a few days this week to intensively focus on these things. Unlearning old habits is hard, but impending burnout is good motivation. These tips might seem obvious from the outside, but it’s amazing how effective they are when you really put them into practice!
1. Don’t turn on your computer and cell phone until you’re ready to make contact with the world in the morning. You can’t control the volume of calls and e-mails you receive in a day, but you can set some times that are technology-free. It relieves stress and restores some quiet times of focus.
2.  Make a new to-do list every day on a separate post-it or paper. Make it detailed, including all the tasks you expect of yourself in one day: Get up. Eat breakfast. Fold laundry. Then enjoy the satisfaction of checking items off and throwing away the list at the end of the day. If you didn’t finish every last thing, it’s OK: you’ll have a fresh one tomorrow. This kept me from feeling disappointed about what I didn’t accomplish during the day and helped me to realize all that I did. (It also kept me from committing to more things than I could fit on one page.) 
3. Include time for rest in the day. Spend a half-hour or an hour curled up with a book, watching your favorite TV show, taking a nap, or cuddling with pets. I found myself working more energetically, cheerfully, and efficiently during the day when I took a break somewhere in the middle. 
4.  Don’t sign up for too many things. It’s better to do each activity of your day with enjoyment, margin time, and time to stop and appreciate people than to try and cram 50,000 things into 24 hours. Say no when too many tasks threaten to overwhelm you. 
5. Surprise your family (or whoever you live with) with little, spontaneous acts of love, affection, and service. Empty the dishwasher. Bring in the garbage cans. Leave encouraging notes. When you have fewer things crammed into your day, it’s easier to find time for this, and it helps reduce your loved ones’ stress load, lifting the overall mood of home. (You’d be surprised how this comes back around, too!)
What are your secrets for setting boundaries in your life? How have you learned to pace yourself and rest? 
I’ll be out of town this coming week, so look for my next post on August 6!