I Got Only Love to Share

Lately, I don’t know what to write about or even what to read. My thoughts bounce around inside my head, and while some of them are good, they never seem to make it to the page. This entire year has been nothing but sadness and disappointment for myself, for my family, for my friends. Covid19 has taken so much from so many people. Not just lives but life experiences and dreams. It’s become an integrated part of our everyday lives. I noticed at work the other day that, by habit, I reached to put on my mask as soon as I stood up from my desk. I’ve already developed the muscle memory for it.

I try to write and the words seem lost, like they’ve wandered off and don’t answer when I call. I try to read and the words all run together. My brain is so focused on everything else that I read an entire page and don’t retain any of the information. I feel betrayed.

I forced myself to sit and type all this just so that I could feel like I could breathe. Writing is becoming like air, and I feel deprived. I think maybe it’s because it’s the one thing in my life that I still have control of.

I’ve been filling my free hours with tv and mindlessly scrolling social media. I don’t know why because social media is lousy with politics and arguments while all I’m looking for is a little peace and something to occupy my brain.

I have a list of things I should be doing with my free time outside of work. Like the yoga I’ve been promising myself I was going to start practising again and the meditating to calm the jumbles in my mind. Cleaning is another good one. I think things won’t feel right until I get the world out of my head and reclaim it for myself. I need to steer clear of the mess that people are making of the world and put my own world to rights.

The older I get, the more I long for peace. I can’t handle the ugliness of hate and conflict. I crave the quiet. I can’t deal with angry words and spite. I long for harmony. I’m more sensitive to negativity. It drains me and weighs me down.

I’ve been trying more to be kind with my words, still smile behind my mask, and hope to gracious goodness that it will spread. Hate spreads like wildfire. It seems kindness seeps. I still hold out the hope that all is not lost and goodness will prevail.

In the meantime, inhale the good, exhale the bad. Spread kindness and let conflict end with you. Hold onto peace and rebuke hate. If I sound like a hippie, well then, good.

In the words of The Avett Brothers: I got only love to share.

There ain’t no man can save me

There ain’t no man- an enslave me

Ain’t no man or men that can change the shape my soul is in

There ain’t nobody here who can cause me pain or raise my fear

Cause I got only love to share

If you’re looking for truth I’m proof you’ll find it there

January Reading

The end of 2019 was something I was glad to see. Twenty nineteen didn’t do us any favors. There was a lot of loss for us last year. I felt like I was able to breathe better after it was gone.

We also moved toward the end of last year or technically, we’re still moving. We’d lived in the same place for ten years. It was bittersweet.. I’d loved our old house with it’s big back yard, tall pecan trees, and inviting porch. Where we live now is very nice. You won’t hear me complain. It’s a better house, has a beautiful view of a lake beyond our backyard, and has a nice smaller yard for easier upkeep. I’ll blog more on that later.

My reading life and blog have taken a backseat to the move, holidays, illness, and just about anything else that decided to become an obstacle. I’ve been feeling really stressed and out of sorts. I opened my email the other day to find that I had credit on Audible. My heart gave a little leap. Reading. That’s what I need. I need words and their soothing simplicity.

Sometimes a book about someone with a really messed up life can remind you that yours isn’t so bad. That’s why I used my Audible credit for The Wives by Tarryn Fisher. I saw that it was being compared to works by Gillian Flynn and Liane Moriarty. Tarryn is also good friends with Colleen Hoover. That’s a bonus.

I previously read Tarryn’s book Mud Vein, and while I liked it. I didn’t like it as much as I liked The Wives.

 

At first, I wasn’t sure I would like it. Then things got real sideways real fast. The pace of the book is nice. It throws you right into the fray. While there is a build, it’s not a slow build. The main character is not like one I’ve experienced before. The book is written from her perspective and is an intense walk through her mind. I give it four stars.

I also noticed that Tarryn Fisher’s book, Marrow, was only $3.99 on Kindle. I’m not one to shy away from a deal, and I’ve read two of her books and liked them both.

I’m not yet half way through this one. So far, the book is very gritty and real. It’s set in an underbelly of a place where a girl named Margo lives. The story is from her perspective and describes her neighbors and friends. So far, I’m enjoying, but if I’ve learned anything from reading Tarryn Fisher’s books, there’s likely to be a gut wrenching twist in future pages.

Lastly, I began listening to When We Believed in Mermaids by Barbara O’Neal this morning. I’ve heard good things. Once I’m deeper into the story, I’ll update.

Now that life is getting back into it’s regular rhythm, I’m hoping to get back to my reading, writing, and sanity.

Writing Your Life

I’ve been thinking about how our lives will one day become stories. Stories are wonderful things. I love hearing them and telling them. I love different perspectives on the same story.

My life is my story. I think it’s important to journal our thoughts and feelings and the way we view the seasons of our lives. Those who come after us can learn about the today that we live in. They can see how things were viewed and learn about how different our current situation is to how theirs will be. I wonder all the time how my grandparents and great aunts and uncles viewed the world they lived in. I wish I knew more about the things they experienced.

I made several pointers for myself in writing my life. I thought I might share them with you.

Plotting: What I’ve recently come to understand about plotting is that you may decide how you think things will go, but it’s never set in stone. Be prepared for changes and scenes that don’t quite fit. In this, I see that writing is a lot like living.

Writing: The crux of everything. The living of your life is the writing of it. You must live it to write it. What are you doing today that is living your life? Would it be enjoyable for someone to read it later? Live a life of adventure and joy. Make your story colorful with experience and vibrant characters. Let the people you surround yourself with be interesting.

Editing: Edit often. Cut out what doesn’t fit, doesn’t enhance your story, or doesn’t make sense. Your story, your life, is too short for things that don’t benefit it. You are the only one with the power to change or edit your circumstances. You hold the pen, and history shows that it truly can be mightier than the sword.

I’ve been telling myself that I need to start journaling. I need to start making note of the story my life will tell. I will make more of an effort to turn it into something worth reading. I hope you’ll consider doing the same.

I’ve Got Something to Say

I’ve been doing more writing than reading.

I type this with a sigh, a good sigh. It feels good. Reading is and always will be my first love, but it is essentially admiring the world another person has created. That’s wonderful, and I love it. However, there’s something about stepping into a world of your own making. Seeing life stories play out in your head and pouring them out on paper for someone else to admire is something I’ve always wanted to do. Getting to know my characters has been my favorite part. It’s like sitting down with an old friend and hearing how their life has been going up until now. Characters can certainly be demanding. I might have a touch of schizophrenia, but there have been several times that I’ve felt a character nudge me and say, “Nope. That’s not me. Fix it.”

I’ve written stories before that have started out strong but fizzled out before I really got to the meat of it. This one, though, has kept me on my toes. It’s in my head, in my dreams, and is taking over. I don’t know if the difference is that I have a friend reading it as I write or if it’s just time.

I’m hoping for good. I’ve used the backspace button as much as any other key on my keyboard. This story has me writing everyday. I’ve been reflecting most days as I write on the lessons I learned from On Writing by Stephen King.  One of the things I have struggled with, he addresses in his book. He noted that:

“Good writing is often about letting go of fear and affectation, Affectation itself, beginning with the need to define some sort of writing as ‘good’ and other sorts as ‘bad’, is fearful behavior. Good writing is also about making good choices when it comes to picking the tools you plan to work with.”

Overcoming fears has been a lifelong endeavor. Fearing being adventurous with what I’m writing has been dragging me down as a writer. The other day I wrote my first intimate scene between a couple. While to most this doesn’t seem like a step outside the box, for me, it absolutely was. When I, blushing furiously, sent it to my friend, I got good feedback. She assured me it wasn’t cheap or tasteless. I’m pretty pleased with the review.

Another pointer I’ve been pulling from the King is writing what you like is as important as writing what you know. In the King’s book, this quote is one of my favorites:

“Write what you like, then imbue it with life and make it unique by blending in your own personal knowledge of life, friendship, relationships, sex and work.”

A point my reader made was that writers tend to over describe characters and settings. I make a conscious effort not to do that so that I don’t do all the work for readers. I want them to form their own view. My job is to define my characters and settings, not completely describe them.

This dream has been accumulating in my heart. Now, it’s up to my mind to bring it to fruition.

I’m enjoying stretching my writing legs and hope to one day run marathons. All in all, I’m learning that what my characters say is all to do with them, but what my writing comes down to is what I have to say.

 

 

 

 

Leap of Faith

I’ve been writing a story. That’s really no surprise to anyone. I’m usually writing a story all the time. What makes this story different is that I’m letting a friend read it. It’s about 20,000 words worth of me so far.

For full disclosure, it is a romance. Well, more like life with a healthy dose of romance. Since I knew that was her thing, I sent her a message. Actually,  I typed it, deleted it, typed it again, read it twelve times, and finally sent it. She replied within minutes.

I emailed her the first few chapters of my story and waited. I can be pretty patient. However, when you’re waiting on judgement, minutes stretch themselves indefinitely.

When she told me she loved it, I got emotional. I know that she’s honest and has no problem telling anyone what she thinks. This made her perfect for honest feedback but also very scary. She said it definitely needs some editing, but it’s good.

I’ve invested hours into this story. I’m not sure what will come of it. That’s the part that’s exciting but also terrifying. This has me thinking that I may want to put myself out there soon. My inner introvert is shaking her head and looking at me disapprovingly over her glasses.

I was brave when I started this blog a few years ago. I was a nervous wreck when I published the first post. When my most popular post hit 5000 views, I jumped up and down and then plopped back down in fear. I’m doing much the same with someone reading my story.

I am learning to be open and put myself out there. I’m understanding that my words might mean something to someone even if it’s just one person.

Tony has been pushing me. I hear almost every other day that I need to get on my novel. He’s got this steady, unshakable faith in me that has been a solid rock in rough seas. Now, my friend has read what I have of my story and has the same faith. I’m honestly a bit shaken.

My mind is telling me to not get my hopes up. My heart says we’re due for a leap of faith.

Where Were You?

Every year on the anniversary of the worst act of terrorism our country has ever seen, possibly thousands of people answer the question, “Where were you?”

Where were you when life for an entire nation changed so drastically on what seemed to be an ordinary Tuesday morning?

I woke up that beautiful morning, had breakfast, and got on the school bus. I imagine I chatted with my friends on the bus and then at school. I imagine people in New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia did much the same; got up, talked to loved ones, commuted, started their day.

I was in Ms. Sherman’s class when someone ran in and told Ms. Sherman that we needed to watch the news. When the TV illuminated, we saw the first Tower in flames. It was startling. I remember this cold feeling running through my body as if I had ice water in my blood. I was a week away from turning fifteen and had no idea at the loss of life or how many people were even in a building of that size. I’d hardly been out of Mississippi.

The second plane hit the Tower’s twin a few minutes later. That’s when it began to be clear that this was not a random accident. This was an attack.

By the time the news announced that the Pentagon had also been hit as well as a plane going down in a field in Pennsylvania, I was trembling. I remember students being all around, laughing, talking, and going about their day. I didn’t know what this would bring about, but I knew it was incredibly horrific and sad. The newscasters talked about the loss of the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of people. My teenage mind couldn’t comprehend.

When the Towers fell, I remember watching the TV in horror with my heart pounding. Surely, I thought, anyone left alive in the buildings were able to evacuate. At fourteen, you still see the world as a movie. You hold out the hope that there’s always a hero to save the day. Many lives were saved that day by brave souls in uniforms as well as civilian clothing.

When I got home from school, I spent the evening hours on the phone with Tony. He was my best friend at the time. We hadn’t yet started dating. We watched the news and talked about the horrific the events of the day. Hundreds of people were missing. Their loved ones begged for any word of their fate and showed pictures of the missing on the news. Those photos showed people smiling during happy times. They were hearts and souls with dreams and hopes. They were gone in what seemed like an instant.
I searched the internet that night for information about the World Trade Center and Pentagon. The sheer size of the buildings left me reeling. I think that was when it began to register for me just how many people would have been inside, around, and involved with the Towers that morning. The Pentagon was left with a gaping, burning hole.
Ground Zero was still burning that night and would for the next 100 days. Videos of those who threw themselves to their death to escape the heat and flames haunted me. The thought of those trapped terrified me. What they must have experienced still makes me ache to think of it. Over the next months, I read the stories online. I read of people lost, those who were lost saving lives, and those who lived because someone saved them. I heard of people who heard last moments over the phone. I was shaken to my core.

Last night, I was thinking of the final count of the lives lost on that day.

2800+

I was living and going to school in a very small town on September 11, 2001. The town population was a little less than 2500. On that sad September day, there were more lives lost than there were lives in the town I lived in. That absolutely astounds me.

The losses continue after that day. There are those who can’t live with survivor’s guilt and those who develop illnesses from dust and chemicals.

Those who were lost lived, loved, were different races, genders, and lifestyles. They had children, were someone’s children, and left a staggering void in the hearts of those who knew and loved them. I hope they know the flood of love and unity our nation experienced after their losses. I hope they know that people like me who never knew them, have read their names, said a prayer for them, and remember their stories. After all, at the end of our lives, we all become stories. As long as I live, I’ll remember their stories.

The Storyteller’s Secret

The Storyteller's Secret

No spoilers. Read on.

I love stories. That was my favorite part of playing pretend as a child. Creating an entirely different life for myself in a different place was wonderful. I still play pretend in my mind while reading.

For most of this book, the setting is India. I was transported there as I listened to the audio book. In my mind, I was there for the Holi festival with the smells of spicy food and children’s laughter coloring the air. I felt the emotions of the characters.

The story is sad and lovely. It is emotional and left me holding my breath on several occasions. Although there is some romance, the majority of the story is about life, it’s struggles, the precious moments, and how unfair it can be.

The story begins with Jaya, a writer, who goes to India to “find herself” and explore her heritage. She finds Ravi. He was a servant to her grandmother. He tells her the story of Amisha, her grandmother. Amisha lives both upholding India’s traditions as well as pushing against them. As she goes through life and wades through all it’s seasons, she lives, loves, fails, and perseveres.

The story that Ravi tells Jaya is the best kind of story: one that has love, trial, and triumph. This story will be with me for a while.

I hope to read more by this author. Her writing is very descriptive and makes you feel what she is trying to convey. It has been some time since a story has captivated me in the way that this one did.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“My power became dependent on the height of my achievements.”

“When we reach, we always chance a fall.”

“But laws are slow to change what is in people’s hearts.”

 

 

Spoilers ahead.

 

 

 

 

I identified with the two women in this book in different ways.

Jaya stuggled with infertility. After three miscarriages, she needed to figure out who she was outside of being a mother. She went to India for her mother, to see her childhood home in hopes that it would explain her mother’s reserved nature and sometimes odd behavior. In finding out the truths of her mother’s life, I think it helped to heal Jaya. She explored destiny versus decision.

Amisha was a weaver of words. She invented a different life for herself in her imagination and spun stories to teach and entertain. She spoke to my heart and reminded me what a good character can be. She made the best of a not so great life.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would recommend it.

 

Books of August

This summer I wanted to read more. I wanted to open physical books and feel their pages, listen to them and what they had to say, or see their words on my phone and tablet. I got my first free Audible book and remembered what I love about listening. Since, I’ve spent hours engulfed in audio. Realizing that my Kindle Unlimited allowed me to listen to audio books of several of the books in my list has upped my game.

I’ve had a craving for stories. Not just fiction but nonfiction and stories in all their forms. I’ve started a few books only to determine that now is not their time for me or they don’t catch my interest. I’ve set them aside for later. However, as far as reading goes, August has been successful.

Jurassic Park

I finally finished Jurassic Park in August even though I started in July. In my humble opinion, it was so good. I finished the last fifteen chapters in two days. I enjoyed it so much and found the movie to be lacking afterward. Every reader knows that the book is always better.

I loved the kids in the book. I loved that Ellie was so fearless. I would have liked to have seen her have a little more adventure. The descriptions of the dinosaurs were great. I did have to Google a few names to get a better visual in my mind.

Jurassic Park is the first movie I remember seeing in theaters. I remember clutching my popcorn and being on the edge of my seat, pointing and exclaiming. I was 6 or 7 at the time. Once my brother was a little older, I passed on my love of dinosaurs to him. He got his dinosaur fix with the Land Before Time movies. I still like watching Jurassic Park from time to time. It was innovative at the time of its release. It “spared no expense.”

 

The Overdue Life of Amy Byler cover

 

I also finished listening to The Overdue Life of Amy Byler by Kelly Harms. It was good, and I liked it. However my fears of it being very chick lit were confirmed, I still enjoyed it. I love the idea of an overworked mom getting a #momspringa.  I appreciated the relationships. I liked how the main character, Amy, dealt with things and her children. I loved that she was a librarian, teacher, and bibliophile. There was just something about the book that I couldn’t love even though I wanted to. I would still recommend it to my chick lit loving friends.

 

 

 

 

I listened to the audio book of I’m Fine and Neither Are You by Camille Pagan. This one I also almost loved, but not quite. I enjoyed it, liked it, and would recommend it to ladies I know like this kind of book. Life is the bad guy and stomps around making life miserable for the protagonist. It had one twist that I didn’t see coming, but after that is pretty predictable. It also came across as very chick lit as well. It reminded me a lot of  The Overdue Life of Amy Byler in that there was a New York trip and was also narrated by Amy McFadden.

 

 

I’m currently listening to The Storyteller’s Secret by Sejal Badani. I’m not quite half way through and am already sure this is one I’m going to love. The story is flowing well, the narrator does a nice job, and I’m really getting attached to the characters. The story is looking to be one that is both sad and sweet. Set in India, it is about a woman who travels there to find out more about her heritage. It has a “finding myself” as well as “self healing” feel. The writing is beautifully descriptive. I’ve had to stop several times to highlight a line that really jumped out at me. I’ll update more when I finish.

I’m also just starting to read The Opposite of Everyone by Joshilyn Jackson on Kindle Unlimited. One of my all time favorite books is Gods in Alabama. This book is already very Joshilyn Jackson. Her characters always have certain quirks that makes them more believable. That’s one reason she’s a great author.

I could learn a lot from her, I think.

I’m reading more and feeling more like my old self. I’m going hardcore with my nutrition so that helps. Life has been flowing these past few weeks. I’m just riding the current.

Happy Reading.

 

Where the Crawdads Sing

Read on. No spoilers.

I’m rediscovering audiobooks. My first true experience with them was in 2013 when I listened to The Hunger Games series. I enjoyed it so much because I was driving a good bit. It’s definitely different than just sitting down with a book and easier to manage on the go. Then, I drifted back to the wonderful world of bound pages and digital.

I listened to Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens this week. A friend told me it was terrific, one of my bookclub friends loved it, and Amazon kept recommending it to me. Finally, it was Audible that caused me to give in. WtCS became my first Audible book, and it was free.

It took me about a week to finish. I listened in the shower, quiet mornings at home, on the drive to work and home again, and even during the slower moments at work. I sat at my desk with one earbud perched in my ear, the other ear listening for the phone or customers.

I was captivated by Ms. Owens’ descriptions of the marsh land where the book is set as well as her explanation of the local animals. I love a good story, but I love it even more when I learn something.

The main character, Kya, really touched me. Her circumstances were so undeserved with her kind, tender heart. She reminded me of myself in ways. It brought back my childhood spent running through pastures, playing in the garden, and wading in the creek. She liked being alone and on her own. I get it completely.

The book begins with her childhood in the 1940’s. The characters are well thought out. The story is mountains and valleys of highs and lows. This quiet, outcast girl educates herself and lives a life that the rest of her town does not comprehend. I loved that about this book.

The narrator, Cassandra Campbell, does such a great job. I love that her voice changes for each character. I love that she conveys the emotions and reactions so well. I was pleased to find that she does a lot of narrating. I’ll for sure be listening to more from her.

I would recommend this book. It was an easy read although the conflicts in Kya’s life had me holding my breath. The coming of age aspect of this book is broken and beautiful. Kya’s story is imperfect and kept me absorbed from beginning to end.

I’m Sorry, Writing

I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry I’ve pushed my notebooks into the corner. I’m sorry I’ve let my laptop sit unused. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long. I’m sorry I left the words swirling around in my head until my emotions get the best of me.

I’m sorry I’ve kept all my words to myself. I’m sorry I’ve let shame, pain, anger, and confusion keep me prisoner. I’m sorry I’ve been letting myself get overwhelmed without coming to you and using you to cope. I always have and haven’t been lately. The last few months of my life have been proof.

I’m sorry my pens have been sitting in cups without so much as being used for a signature. I’m sorry I’ve let myself get to a sorry state of not being as consistent. I’m sorry I’ve let life dictate what my writing hours are used for and letting it steal them away.

I’m sorry I’ve let unimportant things take your time.

I’m sorry I’ve been unavailable.

I’m sorry, writing.