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You and Me and a Blank Slate

file000231093664Hello, Brand New Year.

I’ve been so busy these past several days measuring and mixing, stirring and simmering, putting out presents. Hosting. Eating. I’ve barely had time to prepare for your arrival.

What to do on this first day together? Just you and me and a blank slate.

It would be easy to write out a New Year’s list. I love lists. I always feel so organized and fired up and well, a little more prepared for the unknown. But you know what would happen if I put pen to paper today? I’d think too long about 2013, about what I did or didn’t do and about what I wish I hadn’t done. I already spend too many hours looking back. You don’t know that about me yet, but you will.

Speaking of looking back (see what I mean? Already, day one…), I was sitting at a table a few Sunday’s ago with a group of people, talking over Letters and Papers from Prison written by a Lutheran Theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Bonhoeffer who, right? That’s what I said. And, theology? You thought this was going to be a whimsical talk about the new year, thought I might bust out with my outline of writing goals. Maybe you’re wondering why, on that particular Sunday morning, I wasn’t sitting at a coffee shop working on that novel? A very good question. I can see you’re going to keep me to task this year. But, to answer your question would mean going over the list I mentioned, and you might get confused why I would put “avoiding the novel” under things I did and not under things I wish I hadn’t done. So, hear me out.

First off, I wasn’t doing much of the talking at the table. Mostly, I was obsessing about the fact that I didn’t grow up Lutheran and I’d never heard of this Bonhoeffer fellow, who was apparently quite important and influential, and it sort of felt like one of those moments when you’re a writer and you’re sitting in a room with a bunch of other–really great–writers who know their stuff and you think, my god, they’ll finally see how I’ve been faking it all this time. Like, maybe, if I feign ill, I could cut out quick, before things fall apart. You know? These people were smart.

Anyway, I didn’t cut out. I had committed to this Bonhoeffer business. Plus, I was a little penned in between tight seats and sitting right across from the pastor (a kind-hearted man, no doubt, but still…the pastor). So, I stayed. Good thing, too, because, just after my obsessive string of thoughts tapered off, someone read aloud from one of Bonhoeffer’s letters where he quotes a verse in Ecclesiastes:

Everything has ‘its hour’: [‘]…to weep and…to laugh:…to embrace…and to refrain from embracing;…to tear and…to sew…and God seeks out what has gone by.’

Now, I don’t know if you favor Lutherans or if you’re pro-Universe. You’re just a New Year. What does it matter? Focus in with me on those first four words:

Everything has its hour

Even the elusive words of a theologian in prison. That’s when I started paying attention, and that’s when, as the same someone continued to read Bonhoeffer’s interpretation of the verse, I heard a message that fits right in with you and me and Auld Lang Syne:

[W]hen the longing for something past overtakes us–and this occurs at completely unpredictable times–then we can know that that is only one of the many ‘hours’ that God still has in store for us, and then we should seek out that past again, not by our own effort but with God.

You know what I love about that passage? Validation that nostalgia “overtakes” us (I love that word)–when we least expect it. So, looking back is inevitable. I can’t help it, and neither can you. Everything has its hour: joy, regret, anticipation. Those lists of what I did or didn’t do? They’re acceptable, even encouraged. But there’s more.

I have to take care not to seek out the past–or the future, for that matter–alone or I will get lost. You don’t have to be Lutheran or religious of any sort to appreciate Bonhoeffer’s words. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reminisced over 1992 and lost hours in the current day, and it had nothing to do with going to church.

…we should seek out that past again….

Maybe I do that in conversation with God.
Or, over coffee with a good friend.
Maybe I reason things out with my Dad late one evening, after we’ve just said goodbye to someone who lived a long and full life, when hearts are open and the house is quiet and the crescent moon hangs down instead of upright. Holding water as my Dad would say.

Holding. At a standstill. But not for long.

Lots to imagine, Ms. Brand New Year, lots in store. It’s 2014. …Fourteen! 

My word, this calls for more coffee.

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This just in….

I’m breaking from routine. For those of you who know me well, breaking from routine can send me into a tizzy — there’d better be a darn good reason to deviate.

Today, I have two great reasons:

1. Beth Hoffman, author of the New York Times Bestseller Saving CeeCee Honeycutt (a beautiful novel that was released in paperback October 26th) has highlighted me on her website. I hope you’ll take a peek at my guest post. I’m thrilled to be a writer mentioned in her Brava & Bravo category. I’m also thrilled I’ll get a chance to meet Beth in person this week as she stops in Wisconsin during her book tour.

Also, this week I’ll post an interview with debut author, Jody Hedlund. Her novel, The Preacher’s Bride, was released in early October and is another book I didn’t want to put down. She’s an author to watch. Stop by on Wednesday, read about her novel and her writing process, and drop your name in the comment section (if you do, you’ll be entered into a contest to win an autographed copy of her novel).

See there? That little shake-up was well worth it.
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Curiosity, Minus the Cat

Writers, by nature, are curious people.

We are always searching for the who and the where and the what, digging up answers from our psyche – or the psyche of an imagined character – to create story after story.

We question other writers, too, asking How do you do it? How do you survive the absence of your muse? What do you say to someone who doesn’t write, who rolls their eyes to find you hiding in the basement – again – huddled over your laptop?

How do you spend your days? We want to know. To answer this very question, Cynthia Newberry Martin hosts a guest author once a month. Every bit of detail I read in those posts either inspires me or connects with me in such a way that I find the confidence I need (yet again) to call myself a Writer.

So, it should be no surprise that writers get tagged now and then with three questions or twenty-five or (this time) eight. Suzanne Conboy-Hill and Ann M. Lynn both tagged me, and it’s taken me way too long to respond. I can whip out a flash fiction story in half a day. But, ask me something about myself, something I should be able to answer easy enough, and the first response you’ll hear are crickets.

…

“Me?” *nervous laughter*

SO, here are eight tidbits of information about me, along with links to three other writers whom you might want to check out for yourself. No formal tagging here – I took too long, game’s over I’m sure – just simple recognition.

And, thanks Suzanne and Ann, for the questions!

1. If you could have any superpower, what would you have?

Telepathy. There, I said it.

I won’t lie. I obsess about every submission I send out. Wouldn’t it be lovely to know the second an agent or an editor picks up my submission with their very own hands?

Yes or No. Yes or No. One flash of a thought in their minds, and I’m on my way – to strangle my muse or to celebrate. No wait times, no checking and re-checking the inbox, no more stalking the postman.

2. Who is your style icon?

If we’re talking wardrobes, then I’m in trouble.

For fashion guidance, I depend on the goodness of my friends. Friends with money and with taste. I accept hand-me-downs without hesitation, because – left to my own devices – I am a fashion disaster. So, if you see me wearing something sassy and in style, you can assume I got it from a friend.

3. What is your favorite quote?

It’s difficult for me to choose a favorite quote. There are so many great ones that I love about life and about writing. I latch on to one quote that strikes me on a particular day, but the same quote might not mean as much to me the next day. So, here’s one I’m holding onto this week from Mary McNamara’s recent article in the Los Angeles Times:

…[I]f you’re a writer, you don’t write for money or fame or a chance to dish with Oprah Winfrey. Basically, you write because when you’re not writing, you’re even more cranky than when you are writing.

Yep.

4. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

“Ever?” I have a terrible memory. That’s one reason why I write — because I forget the things I insist on remembering. Recently, though, my favorite compliment came from my daughter who’s almost four.

“You look beautiful,” she said. Her eyes traced my outfit from head to toe.

She ignored the three blemishes on my face that might suggest I’m fifteen and not forty. Then, she stopped at my feet and gave me the eye.

“Except for your shoes,” she said.

She’s anti-Birkenstocks, and her comment reinforces my answer to number two above. Left to my own devices….

5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?

Every year, Fall throws me into a melancholy mood. One of the ways I survive that mood is to play lilting music that rises and falls and lifts and carries. Ingrid Michaelson has been on my mind a lot. But the other day, this song struck my fancy:

6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?

A night owl. Late night hours are the most quiet times at my house. Plus, I’m just lazy before the sun comes up.

7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

To this I say “Achoo!” and “Pass the Claritin.” I love them both — from a distance.

8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?

I am forever running out of time. When I decided I wanted to pursue my writing for real, I knew I would have to do it during those moments in between — moments that are fleeting as soon as they start some days. And, I like hard and fast deadlines.

There you have it, more than you wanted to know. Now, along with Suzanne and Ann, here are three more writers whose blogs I read and tweets I follow — for inspiration, for lessons in the craft, and/or for a good laugh:

I’m off now, to practice my telepathy.

I’m sending you messages right now to leave a comment and retweet this post (stack those stats).

Just kidding.

(Sort of.)
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