February

60 degrees Fahrenheit on February 5th, 2019

January went by in a long blink. It was one of those months that embodied the saying all parents dread hearing, "the days are long but the years are short." January of 2019 felt that way, only the hours were long, and the month was short. It was a month, for me, of resetting, of evaluating, of new habits - not resolutions. 

January was cerebral, and now February is for action. 

In December I met with a friend of mine who happens to be an herbalist and an energy healer. We'd talked for quite a while about setting up a session with her. Finally, it happened, and ever since there's been shifts and realizations, openings and awakenings. I do believe I was on the path to all of the things already, but the visit with her sped things up, and proved to me that I have a lot of work to do for my body and soul, and that now is as good a time as any to show up for myself. 

 I'm currently healing a leaky gut and diving deep into emotional healing from various things. It's a wild ride full of shifts in thinking about food and how we heal and nurturing, rest and eliminating stress and finding peace as well as voice. I plan on writing more about the process, but I'm not quite there yet... all in good time. 

These days I'm going to bed and waking early. I'm getting on the yoga mat before the sun comes up and then I spend some time writing the first draft of a new novel, pulling a daily tarot card and writing morning pages all before my children wake for the day. Then it's on to life and homeschooling, feeding all of us - body and soul, over and over again, and reconnecting through it all. To self, to each other, to the natural world. 

We joined a new to us weekly homeschool co-op this term. It meets on Tuesdays, and it's the only co-op that my kids and I have left not feeling drained, but instead energized. On the drive home yesterday we opened the windows and when I suggested we head to the beach, the kids both agreed. Last week we were in the midst of the Polar Vortex, and yesterday we saw the temperature rise to the mid sixties. The weather and our bodies are confused, but we'll hit the ground running when the beach calls. They went barefoot, the native New Englanders that they are, and we played and laughed for a good hour as the sun started moving down the dunes.

Flow has been a word that has come back to me over and over again this last week. I feel like I'm in it. I'm listening to what I need, what my family needs, and while occasionally we need a reset (as anyone who saw us Monday knows...) we're also showing up for each other with language that used to be foreign but is now flowing freely about relationships and self, about growth and moving towards what matters most for us as a family. 

Intention weaves its way through the hours of my days, the moments of my life, in a way that I haven't felt before. Spoiler alert, it feels good...

I'm excited to write in this space again. I needed the last two months to take a pause and think about what writing means to me, what sharing my writing means, and what ultimately makes me happy. I'll be writing more about this is tomorrow's newsletter {you can sign up here!} but ultimately writing is a way for me to connect and share, and even if my posts don't go viral and my words aren't being shared a gazillion times. I'm happy to be here, in this space, chatting to those who are reading and enjoy my words. 

My hope for this space in the coming months is to share not so much specifically about my writing journey, but about life in general. Adventures and thoughts and mundane moments. I loved the days of personal blogs, before ads and sponsorship, before motives came into play and the personal narratives that were so good at connecting us to each other disappeared. I'd like to go back to a bit of that... 

So here's to 2019, may it be full of creativity, words, and connection. 

I'm building up my blog reader again. If you have a blog you're currently writing, I'd love if you'd share in the comments! I've been using Feedly, but am open to another option - what do you all use for reading blogs? Please let me know!

When NaNoWriMo isn't for you

Last week I wrote about how great NaNoWriMo is and gave a handful of tips for those of you participating in the challenge. 

And now this week, I'm here to say I've changed my mind. I'm not going to participate this year.

Earth shattering stuff, right? Not really. 

But, we don't often talk about when we change our minds and decide NOT to do something we said we would do. How often do we back out of something, stick our head in the sand, and never discuss the matter? I think it's because quitting, or if it looks like we're quitting, is somehow shameful in our society. 

It's not. So many times, quitting (or whatever word you want to use here) comes down to someone changing their mind. 

We're allowed to do that. People change. Circumstances change. 

Or, as so often happens with me, you get excited when you first think of something, decide it's a great idea, only to think about it as the days go on and realize it isn't the right choice for you. 

Over the last few years, I've tried to listen to my gut, to think before I act and speak, and to give myself time to process ideas before making a decision. I didn't do that with NaNoWriMo earlier this month. I got swept up in the excitement of it, remembering the fun of years past, and compared those feelings to those associated with the slow steady work that has been my writing life as of late... the two years and then some it took to write my latest novel, and the months it's taking to find an agent.

Ultimately, I forgot the process that fits with my life. 

By late last week I felt a growing sense of dread. I couldn't even think about planning and plotting my next story, because what was the point? I was just going to spend November freewriting and getting words in, and then after the month was over I could see what I had and go from there. I'd have 50,000 words to work with and weed through, and that would be amazing. 

Over the weekend I realized that the very thought of working through 50,000 quickly written words was the very thing that was filling me with dread, and I hadn't even written the words yet. 

And then, I gave myself permission to say no. To change my mind. To examine my life and remember what works for me, what my limitations are and be realistic in order to continue a writing life that is fulfilling, and sustainable. 

I am certain that there will be times when I'll be able to do NaNoWriMo again. But right now, as a homeschooling mom who is just finding her groove with so many things, I'm not willing to jeopardize my sanity, my sleep, my time, for those 50,000 words. 

What I am willing to do is cheer all of you on who are participating, and get to work on my next book in a way that makes sense for me, right now. Slow and steady. Like so many things in my life, slow and steady progress made by creating and meeting small achievable goals, is the way to success. My family and I live a purposefully slow life that meets the demands of all our personalities. This is not a hindrance. Hustling is not in any of our natures, and when one of us is hustling, it effects the rest of us. 

At this point in my life, I'm unwilling to let the culture of busy and hustle get the better of me. Even if that means backing out of commitments and challenges and anything that does not feel like it is a good fit. 

I'd invite you to do the same. Whether that means jumping into NaNoWriMo or not (again, read last weeks post! I think NaNo is a great thing! I fully support you if you're doing it next month!) 

I'm willing to bet our world would be a better place if we could all have the freedom to change our minds and say no when something doesn't feel right. 

It might give us the space to explore what brings us joy and what makes us tick without judgement, or own or others. 

Ritual

The fans are still working overtime. Hot cups of tea are relegated for first thing in the morning, and then by mid afternoon I'm so desperate for the ritual that I sweat through a steaming mug... because that's what it's really about, the ritual. I've never figured out how to make iced tea that pleases my taste buds. Then, even if I make a half decent pitcher, a glass of the cool beverage disappears quickly. A few gulps, and it's gone. There's no waiting, no patience required, no gingerly testing, risking burned taste buds and that bit of spilled boiling water if you wince and pull the mug away from your lips too quickly. 

We turned the oven on the other day to make a cake to celebrate our return to the school year. Our calendar is filling up with activities and field trips, indoor climbing and birding with the local Audubon, some road tripping and many weekly hikes. Chocolate cake so moist and spongy, it was worth the warmth in the kitchen on an already sweltering day. The ritual, the celebration, the return. 

The kids bake every week, every Tuesday to be exact. They take turns selecting recipes and baking (mostly) on their own, and then they select poetry to read for Poetry Teatime, and we celebrate the every day beauty of words and sugar and togetherness. It's simple, this ritual, but in it's own way it's just as meaningful as the first cake of the school year. 

Noticing the importance of rituals and routines, while honoring the unexpected and impulsive, and noticing the ebb and flow of each is part of my life's work, I believe. I am a creature of habit, an introvert who loves the comfort of home and seek out cozy nooks and sofas where I can tuck my feet underneath me wherever I go. Knowing this about myself is half the battle. Loving this about myself is the other half. 

And so, summer has made me weary. I've lost myself a bit. I'm tired. I'm waiting patiently for the arrival of my most recent order of yarn so I can cast on for a new sweater. I'm ready to pack up the swimsuit and the boogie boards and wash the hand-knits and dust off my boots. I'm ready to not sweat as soon as I take a sip of midday tea. 

But for now I'll take those beads of sweat on my upper lip, and know that my rituals are carrying me through until a bit of ease creeps in with a change of weather patterns, and I can tuck my feet under me on the couch and throw a hot water bottle on my lap while knitting as a child reads aloud next to me, and the change of seasons breathes new life into all of us. 

multitudes...

I've gone quiet on most social media platforms this week. I'm feeling as though there's not much for me to add to the conversation on what's happening in our country, the border, the president, the government, the divisiveness. 

Times like this, it feels frivolous to talk about anything else. It feels as though if I turn to look away, I'm ignoring what is happening. And if I'm not speaking, how will anyone know where I stand? 

But, in order to not go numb, we need to continue with our work, whatever that may be. We must continue the work of keeping ourselves grounded, and informed, and mentally healthy in order to continue to process, to find ways to help, to be useful. It's a tricky thing to balance, and something I'm not sure any of us know how to accomplish. 

What I do know is this:

We are capable of doing more than one thing at a time, and we are capable of feeling more than one thing at a time, as well. We can be horrified, stricken, and disgusted by policies and the hypocrisy our leaders, and still find joy in our children. We can be saddened by the separations of families, and still find time to read a good book and smile at the jokes. We can frustrated and maddened by the institutional racism that plagues our country, and still take a peaceful walk on the beach and marvel at the ebb and flow of the sea. 

And that fact, that we contain multitudes of layers and feelings and joys and pains, that makes us human, and as long as we remember that each person on this planet is, in fact, human... maybe we'll have a chance after all. 

But for now, I encourage you - as I'm encouraging myself - to write on. To create. To feel empowered to do your work, to inspire and champion others work as well. We need words. We need beauty, the pretty and the messy. We need sincerity and truth and humanity. Connection. And with art, in all it's forms, we can find those very things. 

So keep writing. Keep creating. It matters.

Growing

I haven't showed my face around here for a while, so... hello. This is me. The thirty something year old version of myself that is occasionally hard to recognize. Or rather, was hard to recognize. Not so much anymore. 

On our road trip I found myself squinting at the road signs on the highway, having headaches that weren't from dehydration or fatigue. Turns out, when you're driving around your own town and not really paying attention to signs - because you don't need to - you don't really realize when your glasses prescription changes... 

An eye exam showed that, low and behold my prescription changed enough to make a not so subtle difference... so I bought myself some new glasses. 

After wearing the same frames, give or take, for fifteen years, a change was in order. And a change it has been. 

My word of the year - I assume you've all heard about this concept by now - is grow. Meaning to grow into myself, to grow my writing, my yoga practice, my patience.... you get the idea. 

The most challenging of all of that, is growing into myself. 

Somehow, I've avoided it for the majority of my life, focusing instead on what I thought others would want me to be and do and dress and act.

So this growth thing, it's been kind of huge. 

And my new glasses are all part of it as I'm choosing to wear things, to adorn myself, with things that I like, instead of thinking about if other people would like how I look in them.  Like corduroy overalls, oversized glasses, flowy, shapeless dresses and clogs. All the clogs, please. I'm choosing to buy things and wear things that fit my body comfortably now, instead of someday. And to exercise because I love my body, not because I want it to change or become smaller. I'm a little softer around the edges than I used to be, but  no less strong. And frankly, I love how my curves play with my strength, how soft doesn't mean weak. 

I'm choosing to pause before saying yes, to honor when my gut tells me to say no, and to really look at what negative "obligations" I can eliminate and things I truly want to do because they add something positive to my life. 

The last few years I've known somewhere deep down what I wanted out of life, who I wanted to be and who I am. Sometimes I've had to squint to see that person, and the headache that caused... I'm done with. I don't want to squint to have to find myself. 

Growing into myself, and then staying close to my heart for the inevitable ebbs and flows of the inner journey, is the challenge. It's what life is all about. Growing into, and then loving, the self. It's only taken me thirty some odd years and a new pair of glasses to get here...

Baby steps and giant leaps

I'm sitting here with my mug of steaming hot tea, a to do list, and the first chapter of my novel printed out and with pencil edits throughout. Procrastinating. But also, I wanted to come here and share a bit of an update, to share about my book. 

Let me tell you, that statement feels like a gigantic leap, and triggers all sorts of impostor syndrome symptoms within me. 

Because yes, I have a book. But also, it's far from done. There is no book deal. No agent. No publishing plan. Yet.

The thing about writing a book is that it's done in baby steps. Hundreds of baby steps. Building word on to word, sentences into paragraphs, pages into chapters, and on and on. Right now the book is over 300 pages. It's not entirely a mess, but it's in need of some work. And, once I'm done with it, it's only the beginning.

So maybe I'll tell you what's on the horizon, and where I'm at today. Because if you're along for this ride, I want to be honest with you: writing a book is a long and involved process. And then when it comes to publishing... it's just as long and involved.

Right now, I'm working on the fourth draft of my novel. It's tentatively called Farm Girl, and is about a young photographer named Bea who doesn't have a permanent address, who finds herself wanting to go home. The trouble is, the only place she ever felt at home was her now deceased grandmother's house. So Bea travels to the orchard across the street from her grandmother's house and stays with family friend who was like a second father to her as she was growing up. She quickly finds herself tied to the orchard and community in ways she never expected...

It's a quiet, sweet story, the type I enjoy reading. I think that's important when you're writing fiction, to write something you'd want to read. Anyway, I'm on the fourth draft, and I'm just beginning the real nitty gritty type of editing. With each draft I've peeled away layers to reveal the actual story, and now I'm at the point where I can easily see what needs to stay and what needs to go - what is essential to the story.

This stage feels daunting and tedious, terrifying but also creative and kind of fun. It's a different type of adventure than the rest of the writing process has been.

It's also been the hardest to jump into.

Maybe because I know it's going to be a lot of work.

Maybe because I know once I dive in, I won't want to come up for air.

My goal is to finish this next draft by the end of April. It's doable, I know it is. So here I am, with my pencils and highlighters, ready to take the next baby step. But first, more tea...

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In defense of February

Here in the Northern Hemisphere we are firmly planted in winter. And I've got a confession to make: I love February. 

Hear me out!

I know it's an unpopular position, but I adore February, and I wholeheartedly love winter. I get it, SAD and the cold and heating bills and ice and germs... I've heard it a million times, and I understand. I do. There are specific hardships that occur in the winter months, no doubt. 

But I still think February is a gorgeous month that doesn't get nearly enough credit. And so, without further adieu, here is my list of ten reasons why I love February:

• The way the light plays on either end of the day. Wisps of pink and orange dance across the sky, and spread more and more every morning and evening.

• There is no escape, no between seasons, no temperatures faking us out and tempting us to put away one set of clothes for another. We are neither at the beginning nor the tale end. We are in it. And there's a beauty to that, I think. Whether it's being planted in the middle of a season, or in the middle of deep soul work, or in the depths of a project where you can't really see how it's possible to give up, but there's also just a hint at the end. Deep work. That's what February is.

• Frost pictures on the windows. Delicate designs appear in the morning as if out of nowhere, each design as different and unique as snowflakes.

• Valentine's Day. And not for the reasons you may think, as my husband and I rarely celebrate each other on this day, but for the children. How excited they get, and how they don't know that it's a Hallmark holiday. There's an innocence to the holiday that's been long forgotten. The care that goes into hand drawn hearts and homemade cookies is priceless.

• The beach in winter. Walks along the beach in February are heaven. It's quiet and still, and if you're lucky there's a snowbank to crawl over and frozen seaweed to navigate and a plethora of beach treasures to find. The beach during winter is a reminder that our planet is bigger than us, and it ebbs and flows with not only the tide, but the seasons. We'd be lucky to remember that on a regular basis. 

• Snow. As of right now, we're lacking in the snow department (I know many of you are knee and hip deep in it though!), and I've got two children who are desperate to use their snowshoes and sleds... honestly? I'm right there with them. There's an absolute and utter joy that comes from sledding, and a peace unlike any other transcends when you walk through quiet, snowy woods. 

• Hot tea, hot cocoa, endless baked goods, and hearty winter meals. 

• Cancelled plans. This time of year they happen for many reasons, and the only thing I've found to manage disappointment is simply embracing cancellations. And as an introvert who would be happy in a Hobbit hole with a stack of books... cancelled plans sometimes feel like a gift. 

• No creepy crawlers. No ticks. No ants (though I did spot two the other day... hardy suckers...). No mosquitoes. 

• My children's laughter as they sled down hills, helpful hands for shoveling, rosy cheeks just in from the cold, chilled noses, cold hands searching for warmth, and snuggles. In February there is an endless supply of winter snuggles. 

I remember years where winter seemed to slog on, it was endless. What's changed? My perspective. Also... finally outfitting myself in some solid winter gear (eBay has made that much more affordable... and buying second hand is not only good for our wallets, but the environment!) so that being outdoors is comfortable, no matter the temperature. But really, it's acceptance. We can't rush mother nature, we can't change the weather, and just as there's beauty in each of the other seasons, there's much beauty to be found in the depths of winter. You just need to know where to look.

Coming home to the blog... updates

Happy 2018, a month and a bit late!

It's been a while, hasn't it? The end of 2016 found me ramping up this space, and then in the beginning of 2017 I decided to put all of my creative efforts into finishing a novel that had been shelved. And so this space stayed silent, still, quiet. 

2017 was a banner year for my writing. I finished not only the first draft of my book {tentatively titled Farm Girl} but also the second and third drafts. As of writing this post I'm waiting on some feedback from a few trusted readers before diving into the fourth and then final drafts before beginning the process of querying agents and getting the ball rolling towards publication. 

There's a lot of waiting at this stage of the game. Waiting for feedback. Waiting for self imposed deadlines in terms of giving myself space from the manuscript to gain perspective. Waiting to feel like a writer. Waiting to call myself an author. Waiting to hear back from the professionals. Waiting, waiting, and more waiting. 

Instead of twiddling my thumbs, I've decided to jump back into this space and claim my title as a writer, and invite you all along for the ride! While I don't claim to be doing any of this right, or by the book, or in a professional capacity, I'm doing all of this the only way I know how: in fits and starts, piecemeal, ever changing, and imperfectly. 

Here's what I'm committing to in this space: 

• Weekly blog posts focusing on the writing life, daily habits, joys, successes, failures, the journey to publication {fingers crossed}, my book{s}, and life in general. Blog posts will be published on Wednesdays.
• A monthly newsletter starting in March! I promise not to try and sell you anything {except, you know, eventually, my books...}. I'll be sharing a recap of the previous months blog posts, any updates in my writing life, and things that move or interest me and I want to share with you. The newsletter will be coming out the first Thursday of each month. 

I hope to create some sort of community and connection with you all. I'm not sure what place blogging has in the super speedy internet world full of instant gratifications and likes and fast fast fast... but I've been feeling the need for deeper words, deeper connections, and a deeper living recently. I hope to convey and create a bit of that here. 

Feel free to poke around this updated site, check out old blog posts, subscribe to my newsletter, check out my author page on Facebook, sign up for posts to be delivered to your inbox {see the top right of the site!}, and let me know what you think! As always, thank you for reading. 

xo,

Corinne