Available now: Farm Girl!

Dear long neglected blog... I have some news to share...

My debut novel, Farm Girl, is now available for purchase on Amazon in eBook and paperback!

From the back cover:

When Beatrix Hampton, a travel photographer with a passport full of stamps but no permanent address, finds herself searching for stability she heads to the quiet town of Cumberland, Massachusetts. Here, she is embraced by the people and town she spent much of her childhood with, including family friend Cliff Finley and his apple orchard. Bea finds solace in the rhythms of harvest season, but as secrets are unearthed she discovers her ties to the orchard are more than sentimental. Bea must make a decision: will she run like she always does, or stay and help save Finley Orchards? 



I've spent over three years with Bea, Cliff, and Graham in the fictional town of Cumberland, and they are so dear to my heart. I'm thrilled to finally be able to share them with you! My most sincere hope is that you not only read the story, but that you get swept up in it's sense of place, find the characters thoughtful and complex, maybe shed a few tears, and overall love the book. 

Over the coming weeks keep an eye on my social media channels as I'll be posting at least one giveaway over on Instagram, as well as a special giveaway for my newsletter subscribers {click here to hop on the list if you haven't already!}

It would mean the world to me if you could help me spread the word by sharing about Farm Girl by any means you see fit. If you post online, feel free to tag me! 

Thank you for joining me on the adventure that is self-publishing a novel. This is a dream come true for me, and I hope you enjoy reading Farm Girl. 

easing out of vacation

Vacation came and went and there's little proof but a few photos and a small pile of Florida sand that made it's way into my bedroom carpet. Sunday evening we sat at home, and the four of us looked at each other and all wondered out loud, "did that really happen?" That's what nearly six days in the car, and four days of jam packed activities in the Florida sunshine will do to you. It was a beautiful whirlwind of a trip, and within it we created many memories of laughter, adventure, and family legends. 

Now we're home where the wind is still chilling bones, though the calendar says otherwise. Yesterday I drove Lucas to the train station and watched the nearly full moon set low in the horizon. It was breathtaking, the glow and fullness. By the time I pulled away from the car park the moon was gone, tucked in for the daylight hours and the sky laid in wait of the sun. 

The days are flying fast and hard and instead of tightening my grip, I'm easing into the flow of it all. In working on what feels right, and resting when my body needs rest. In starting off gently with breakfast on the couch and kids tucked into my side, and housework nestled in the corners instead of it taking up prime real estate in our waking hours. In laying the groundwork for play and creativity and work, and finding the sweet spot where they intersect and the magic happens. 

It's also in pulling back from a weekly commitment to blogging. I may or may not show up here every Wednesday. I'm giving myself some grace and ease as I dive into other projects that are calling to me, like another round of edits on Farm Girl and furthering the word count on the new novel. {The best way to stay in the know about this space is to sign up for my mailing list, or to have blog posts emailed to you as they get published (you can do so on the side bar)}

A new season, a full moon, a new perspective. Spring is all about uncovering the shoots and buds, giving them room to grow, allowing and nurturing, cultivating. What's being unearthed for you this season?

Guest Post: Jennie Booth

The following is a post by my dear friend Jennie Booth. She's a writer of young adult fiction, contemporary stories, an avid reader, a nature enthusiast, and one of the few trusted people I text when I'm having a writer crisis! I'm so happy to share her words with you today. Thanks Jennie!

When Corinne asked me if I wanted to write a guest post for her blog I had gobs of ideas. Things like how nature helps me be a better writer...why I write...how my goal of finally reading all the books I own is going...and so many more. But as I sat down at the computer, none of them felt right until I thought about Corinne.

Friendship.

It’s such a big word with many definitions and looks and needs. Books have brought me some of my very best friends into my life, both fictional and real. They’ve carried me through rough times and my most joyous days. And when I started writing to pursue publication, I became connected to a support system of individuals who understand the yo-yo of creating art. I’ve found that this group of people is possibly more necessary to my creative process than putting my butt in the chair to do the actual creating.

We all know critique partners are important in writing (and other forms of creative expression, I’m sure) but it takes more than thoughtful criticism to carry an artist through the cloudy times. Having that person you can text/call/message and let out all the fears over publishing (Is it ever gonna happen?) and revisions (I’m making the story worse, I know it!) and an empty creative well (I’m never going to have another idea!) is necessary. Writing may feel like a solo experience when you’re deep into putting words on the page, but I think creativity really shines when it becomes a team effort.

As much as social media can be a time-suck and a whirlpool of false impressions and half-truths, I’m thankful that it has connected me with writer friends like Corinne. She’s given me valuable insight on my novels and ideas, listened to me wallow, and given me pep talks that kept me moving forward. Knowing that she’s on the other end of a text message has honestly meant so much to me.

Five years ago, I went to the first meeting of a library writers group and met my new best friend, Niki Lenz, there. Her middle grade debut comes out later this month and I am beyond excited to celebrate her success. I wouldn’t be the writer I am--or the person I am--now without Niki’s friendship.

And those are just two of many, many others who have traveled with me on this journey. So instead of sharing writing tips or parenting stories here today, I want to fill this space with thankfulness.

Who has helped you along the way? Who would you like to thank? I’d love for you to share your answers in the comments, but don’t stop there. Go and tell those people, too. Spread love and thankfulness into the world today, friends!

If you'd like to connect with Jennie, you can find her on Instagram @jenniereadsandwrites

A quick ode to knitting

My knitting life has been varied as of late. Lots of projects, some knit with thoughtfully chosen and specifically bought wool,  others unexpected and creatively pieced together with yarn from my stash. A ribbed hat made from sport weight yarn on needles so small they blistered the ends of my fingers after a week of constant ribbed knitting, another that was over and done with in two days. I finished a springtime sweater for myself, just in time for our upcoming road trip to Florida next week, and a pair of fingerless mitts made their way across the Atlantic to Sweden and a dear friend. 

Knitting holds a special place in my heart, for so many reasons. It's a balm, a creative outlet, a connection to my past, something I can pass on to my children, a meditation, an obsession, a nervous habit, a distraction, a tool for focusing, it's art and magic and finite and expansive. 

Writing and knitting go hand in hand for me, they compliment each other beautifully. Especially when in the early stages of a first draft, it's easy to get lost in the process. The vastness of the project. It feels endless and the daily word count a drop in the bucket compared to the final outcome. Knitting is almost a physical manifestation of the process... you can see something being created right in front of you, at your finger tips, in your lap. You can then hold your creation, wear it for all to see, and only you know the memories it contains. The silent prayers, the curse words at a dropped stitch, the daydreams and television shows you watched. The plot points you worked out while adding stitches and counting rows and hoping that you bought enough yarn to finish the sweater. 

Similarly to writing, there's hours of work that goes unseen even when someone looks directly at your project. Some of it is thankless and can be quite literally painful. But the hard work, the mind twisting patterns and numbers, the plot holes and complicated characters, all come together in the end in what is *hopefully* a piece of creative, soulful, and useful art. Books are art, anything hand knit is art, and both feel magical. You take an idea, you take a pattern, and breathe life into them. Poof, you have something that is timeless, something to put your name to and say, "I made that." 

Creating something out of nothing, that's what knitting and writing both feel like to me. And I love them both, and how they play off of each other and challenge me every step of the way. Even when faced with ease, there's still the question of how does this fit with the rest of the project, how does this work? Will this work? You don't know until the end. There's trust in both processes, but in such different ways. 

That is why I need a knitting project while I write, and a writing project while I knit: so I can remember to trust, myself and the process. To remember that every stitch counts, every word counts, and individually they might not amount to much - but together they make something useful and beautiful. Something timeless. 

~~~~~~~

Tomorrow my monthly newsletter goes out. If you haven't signed up to my mailing list yet, you can do so here. I promise I won't send you a gazillion emails!

Next week my family and I will be on vacation... but don't worry, there will still be a blog post next Wednesday! I'll be introducing you to a trusted writer friend of mine, Jennie Booth. I asked if she'd like to write a guest post for me, and she kindly agreed. I can't wait for you to meet her!

Tenderly lit corners

This winter I've been spending a lot of time alone. I've been searching out quiet spaces, tenderly lit corners, tending to myself by going to bed way before the rest of my family and getting up hours before the earliest riser stirs. 

These moments I'm taking for myself are non negotiable, and when I don't get them, I feel a disconnect down to my deepest core. 

Not all seasons are like this, needing such a drastic return, or introduction, to self care. 

And I don't mean self care in the bubble bath, chocolate sweets, binge watching shows and movies sort of way. I mean self care in the most sincere sense, care of self which comes by way of turning inwards and collecting the parts of self that haven't been heard recently together in a gathering... where the only goal is to hear oneself. All of the parts of self, even the disgruntled and hidden ones. 

It's beyond easy to disassociate from ourselves, the core of our being. We're living in a time where everything is fast, instant, and noise is constant. Not just by way of sound, but the incessant information being thrown at us. The clattering of voices - read, seen, heard - that forever sells us things that we don't need. Ideas. Thoughts. Judgments. Comparisons. 

Currently I'm healing a leaky gut, but I'm also tending to a weary heart. Tired from years of disconnect, tired of trying to fit into a mold, tired of trying to be good and nice and not rock boats or make waves. In doing all those things, for years, I've lost touch with my inner voice, and worse, my intuition. So consumed with doing things the 'right way', there's a steep learning curve in learning what is my way. The right way for me may not be the right way for anyone else. And that is a tough pill to swallow. 

It means not caring so much about what others think, not worrying about judgement, it means trusting in something that women for lifetimes have been told not to trust: themselves. Ourselves. Me.

And so I've been stealing away here and there, on weekend afternoons and weekday mornings. For moments, and sometimes hours at a time. With my books, tarot cards, notebooks and pens, and sometimes just myself, whatever tools I need to go further, to dig deeper, to listen better. The benefit in the process of excavating myself is that when I come out from my cave of sorts, I'm able to be more present with my family, and more loving towards myself and others. The closer we become to our honest, true selves, the brighter our lights shine. 

I'm listening, and I can't un-hear. Can't un-see. Can't un-know. 

I'm listening, and finding a connection to my self that can't be forced or rushed. One that has needed an undoing in order to become. 

Are you walking this path as well? Have you come to find yourself at this stage of life in different ways than you were able to previously? Have you read Women Who Run With The Wolves? It's a conduit for depth and seeking, and an invitation to reclaim intuition. Are there other books along the same vein that you would recommend? 

Where I'm From

This is an exercise that makes the rounds every now and then. I brought it out for my creative writing students yesterday. It's such a versatile, meaningful exercise that sounds good no matter how simple the vocabulary you use. I remember using it in a workshop, and then writing another version when I was blogging years ago. If you're interested, here's a template you can use to create your own poem.

If you write your own version, let me know, I'd love to read it! 

Where I'm From

I am from Ten Rod Road, garden hoses and sprinklers all summer long, Ball jars that pop on sticky afternoons, and T's salsa. 

I am from shared bedrooms, revolving furniture, forever open doors. 

I am from the daffodil beds, the tire swing, the scent of lilacs on spring breezes. 

I am from shoes set out for Saint Nicholas, Easter dresses and patent leather, from deep and long held grudges, from Dorothy and Rae, Mary Jane, Tee and all the sisters. 

I am from seamstresses and pipe fitters, quilters and dancers, from strong willed and tough love and lots of laughter. 

From because I said so and make do and be good and I love you. 

I am from kitchen sink baptisms, maroon fabric covered cushions in the Congregational church pews, from choir songs and natures hymns of birdsong. 

I am from the hills of Johnstown, from Germany, Ireland, and Wales, from Saint Patrick and Saint Lucia, warm potato salad, pork and sauerkraut, apple pie and chocolate cake for breakfast.

From unions, Temple, and tales from Elkins Park. From rosary beads and a portrait brought home from the war. 

I am from telescopes and kaleidoscopes, from photo collages in the hall and sepia toned photographs kept in shoe boxes, from hand sewn clothes and quilts and stories...

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!

November rambles

November is here, and it came with it's predictable moodiness. Overcast weather, drizzles for days, and a foreboding sense of winter. 

I love it. 

For those of us who love quiet, and a slower pace of life, November is something of a treat. Especially early November, where it's nearly too early to start focusing on the holidays, but they're still in sight as a balm for when the grey gets to be too much. And let's be real, there does come a time when it's too much. But to stave off the dreariness there's fairy lights and glowing candles and before long the next season of The Great British Bake Off drops in the US on Netflix (the 9th!). 

These early November days I'm thinking about what I'm interested in and want to write about in this space, aside from writing about writing. I keep coming back to the idea of slow living, and I want to expand on that. Slow, intentional, minimal... all buzz words, I know, but they resonate deeply for me. In slowing down, I always learn about myself, and notice more about the world around me, and how I want to exist in the world. 

At the same time, it's a choice that comes with privilege, to slow down. I find it increasingly painful to read about minimalism and anything remotely to do with self help and the wellness industry because of how glaringly obvious it is that there's misrepresentation happening, cultural appropriation right and left, and a lack of self awareness and privilege. 

I'm not sure where that leaves me, except to share my own experience, acknowledging the privileges I'm afforded. 

And my experience? It's about how my body does not do well in a hurried state. A rushed state. A loud and noisy and stressful state. And how I'm starting to think maybe it's our society and culture that is troubled, and not me. 

Or at least, maybe our society could do a better job of accepting people who are not in it for the money, who aren't in it for the glory, who aren't in it to keep up with the Jones's, but who want to exist in a way that keeps them content and doesn't hurt anyone else in the process. 

I want to talk about living in a way that isn't exactly mainstream. About motherhood, but more so, about how someone who is extremely introverted feels about mothering growing children. About becoming more eco-friendly... in our kitchen and with our wardrobes. 

This season, there may be a shift in this space, and at this very moment I want to extend a preemptive olive branch: by speaking about any of these topics, I am not condemning your way of living. I will be sharing what works for me, in hopes that maybe a bit will resonate with you, or perhaps you could learn something new, or spark some interest. As with everything I write here, I write for myself, but I also write with the thought that maybe someone needs to hear what I have to say.. and that person might feel less alone after reading my words. 

That's what happened last week, when I shared about my roller coaster of emotions that comes with rejection. I'll tell you something, it helps me to hear that others are in the same boat. So it often comes full circle, and a bit of vulnerability can go a long way. 

Thank you for reading my ramblings, I wasn't sure what I was going to share today when I opened up a new blog post, sometimes my favorite bits of writing come spilling out without a plan or an outline, they flow as they see fit.

voice

It's the end of October, and as cliche as it is to say, I don't know where the month went. Last I knew we were gearing up for a road trip and various visits and field trips and a month of activities, and here we are on the other side with heads spinning and candy bowls overflowing and sugar highs all around. 

In the midst of the comings and goings of family life, this month I've made another push forward with agent queries. I've sent out quite a few, and have received quite a few more rejections. Some flat out no's, some encouraging messages, and another one to add to a growing pile of "I like the concept, but the voice is wrong for me." 

The voice is wrong. 

Of course, upon receipt of such feedback I spiral, thinking about how terrible my writing must be, and vividly picture myself throwing my novel into the recycling bin, all the notebooks and sticky notes, the printed - and digital - copies. I imagine what life would be like without writing. Reading for the sake of utter enjoyment, not ever thinking, "yeah, I'd like to write book someday." 

The thing is, I've already written a book. Several. I may need to write a few more for one to stick.

The other thing is, logically I know this is something newbie writers struggle with: finding their voice. 

I've been thinking for hours about voice. My voice. About how I've cultivated a voice in my blog writing, and in my longer Instagram posts, the style I write in, and the depths I dive. How I struggled to translate that into fiction, and how when I was writing Farm Girl, at times I felt like I was skimming the surface. How I didn't think the voice used in my creative non fiction was worthy of fiction. How every single time Tori Amos's song Silent All These Years plays I weep. About trusting our voices, no matter the context, no matter the medium, and how often I simply don't. How I use my voice, or don't, daily. How impossible it is to hear our own voices in the din of constant media thrown at us from all angles. How voice and ideas dance, and the execution of both is work. How no matter how many times I say, "if you bring a dish to the sink, and there's no dishes in it, please wash your dish" the dishes occasionally pile up in the sink.

I'm thinking about how the times I think least about the specifics of my writing voice (like getting it right...) the more authentic it is. 

Because let's face it, the Instagram captions and these blog posts get less attention than a single sentence of my novel... 

So, I'm thinking about voice today, and thinking about how the only way to really get to where I want to be is to write more. Here, there, everywhere. Because that pit in my stomach that comes up whenever I think about reading a really good novel and thinking to myself, "yeah, I tried doing that. It didn't work out," is uncomfortable, downright painful, and I'm not willing to live with it quite yet. 

~~~~~

I'll be sending out my monthly newsletter tomorrow... 

If you are interested and haven't signed up yet, head over here to do so!

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. 

20 ways to jump start your creativity

~take a walk

~leave your phone at home

~go screen free for an hour, a day, a week...

~bake something, maybe a loaf or two of pumpkin bread

~try a new medium of art. Paint, draw, knit, crochet, collage, calligraphy.

~take yourself on a date to someplace you've always wanted to go

~play tourist in your town or city

~read outside your usual genre

~write outside of your usual genre

~make a list of things you love

~make a list of words that start with a specific letter

~make a list of lists you want to make

~give yourself permission to daydream

~think about what you used to love as a child

~watch a favorite movie with the intent of noticing something new

~look for patterns, in nature, in your daily activities, in your thought patterns

~go outside and sit with your eyes closed for ten minutes

~follow a butterfly

~journal. Write without stopping, even if you only write one word over and over and over again... see what comes up

~move with the intent of exploration and a sense of curiosity, always

*next week we will be traveling, so there will not be a blog post and the monthly newsletter will go out the second Thursday of the month instead of the first. Take care!*