January good.

I like the general theme of new beginnings that threads through the month of January. So many people balk at a New Year resolution but I tend not to be so sour about folks making changes this month. It makes sense to me. I think it's important to personally evaluate/assess/re-assess. Shouldn't we all eye ourselves with a bare lens of honesty and ask 'what can I do different?' or, 'how can I improve?' January should bring up questions such as, 'What in my life is not quite serving me any longer?' 'What can I do about that?'  I like that at the very least once a year, collectively, folks mindfully and wilfully touch that stone. Even if only for a brief month's time. 

One of the many positive things about being a military family is that it's packed with tangible milestones and the chance to start something new again and again with each job or duty station. As a family, we move every 2-3 years being a part of the military. We've done this for about twenty years now. While we've struggled through some moves and beasted others, overall I still get excited each time we relocate. It's a chance to refine things and try something different on a large scale. It can be revitalising. 

So. 

January. 

It's a great time to reflect and try something new. 

We are doing several something news in the month of January in our household. This new year is an entire season of change and fine tuned recommitment to various things. I've personally re-committed to my writing. I'm back onto studying craft.  I'm locked in with a focus on writing with my students at co-op and even with my children in our homeschool. I have some specific goals; one of which is to focus on completing at least one of my novels this year. 

I enrolled in a paranormal romance writing workshop through AutoCrit that really has me excited and motivated. As a supplement to the workshop, my library lets me have access to the Great Courses for free, so I've been listening to The Real History of Dracula and taking notes. One of the stories I have sitting is actually a shifter based paranormal romance but maybe my writing future holds vampires as well!  If you are an Audible member you have access to The Great Courses, Wolves and Werewolves in History and Popular Culture if you're into that kind of thing. It's next on my list.

It's been fulfilling to make writing fun again through this blog and even with what I'm teaching my children. My eleven year old asked about doing a horror writing course, so I've been creating one for her and my son. I'm utilising RL Stine's Masterclass as a main resource/ spine of the curriculum but we're studying key figures and elements within the genre as well. We've done author profiles, writing sprints, copy work, curated genre research lists, watched videos, read articles, and have been listening to Dracula on Audible together. We are ripping apart and combing through that poor book and it's all been a blast. Secretly, I've been pumped when my kids have started recognising horror devices being employed in a show or spooky scene we're watching on television.

With the way my mind is set up I am always resolving to do something or other and I tend to not be able to let the thoughts go until I jump in and start. Most of the time the obsessions don't singularly hit in January so I start when the spirit moves me. Still this January I finally starting making that homemade pasta I've been thinking about. So far we've had fettuccine, spaghetti and homemade lasagne pasta sheets. My closets have embarked on an editing journey, and I decided to lose thirty pounds for good- though I haven't put a plan in motion on that yet. We'll have to see how many of the new try's become a way of life at our house. I love the different influences we've picked up over the years even though sometimes I do overwhelm myself with all the trying. Still, when the curtain finally closes on my life I will have done it all due to this somewhat annoying trait of mine! I know I'm a Jack of all trades and a master of not a single one- it's a satisfying life trying all the things. 

What type of things have you and your family resolved to do in this new month, new season, and new year?

(Vie-oh-lah) A Book Review

My grandmother was always an excellent cook. On one particular day she was making a new dish she felt especially proud of pulling off. I can't recall what the dish was now but I always tell the story with a heavy emphasis on the punchline. 

My grandmother reaches to lift the lid off the pot on top of the stove with grand flourish. She had the elaborate hand gestures going and all. Me and my sister were wrapt with anticipation to see what was inside. 

She hefts the lid like a grand cymbal and confidently exclaims, "Vie-oh-lah!" 

It's like a needle scratched off the proverbial record. Me and sis are clearly perplexed-it's etched plainly on our faces for a beat until my Auntie hollers from the dining room, "Do you mean, 'voila?!" 

The four of us fall into a ruckus of laughter until we cried. It's one of those memories that I can still see and hear so clearly even a smooth thirty years later. 

It's a story that came back to me while listening to, Finding Me, by Viola Davis. A story that has absolutely nothing to do with the book aside from the parallel of how Viola's family says her name in the book. Yet maybe I'm a little mistaken. There is so much in the book that calls to and runs parallel with my own story and my own rocky family ties that kept bringing me back to my own tales of old. Many of which I've been eager to leave buried in the dust of the past. 

I suspect Viola's story triggered, in the full sense of the word, my memories because there is much about the relationships and circumstances she had growing up in poverty that mirror my own. It was triggering in a reflective way and I found her voice gave insight/perspective into my own history and experiences that I had not considered. There were strong colorise themes that had me thinking more deeply as well. 

Riffing off the idea of Viola's writing voice, what an excellent narrator to her own story she truly was. Her literal voice has a rich fullness that had me conducting a quick search to see if there was anything else out in these streets narrated by her for me to listen to.  I highly recommend the audio version which is what I listened to. 

Finding Me is a book that has been on my TBR list for a long time and I kicked off my New Year listening to it while waiting for my son at swim practices. The book is raw and beautiful and poignant. She blasts off with a profane hook for the reader. (Peep my writer's jargon! lol)

I was gagged that she was out here cursing freely and frequently- I hadn't expected that. I had an image of who I thought she was. It was an image I had neatly generated over time after multiplying her public persona by the image of who I guessed she was in her acting projects divided by my own respectability. I was way off and I'm glad. So yeah, she curses- and it ADDS to her writing voice. It added to really understanding who she is and where she came from.

Aside from the excellently profane hook, within the first chapter she was, as the kids say, "spittin'". Just so much poignant truth. She has a beautiful way of telling her stories of the past while being anchored in the wisdom of her present. It's so well done. 

She speaks candidly about the entertainment industry and the evolution of her experiences within it. When she talks about the perception of "classics" and being classically trained at Julliard where any perspective  outside that scope was sub par, I felt that. It made me think more deeply about the history of code switching and instances where I've felt compelled to do so. 

I loved how she spoke of her experiences in Africa and how essentially it was a catalyst for her owning her own choices. She decided how she wanted to move and show up in the industry early on. The book has many poignant moments that call the reader to think differently. To reflect deeply. While the book spoke deeply to my experience as a black woman, the book is for everyone.

I actually am a writer.

At a certain age, I developed the belief that being a writer was kin to being clever. I likened it to being as powerful as God; with the creating worlds with words and all. At an even earlier age I learned that a person can evoke with words in negative ways just as easily as they can with sugary flowery concoctions of words or the poignantly beautiful stuff. 

An obvious concept: It all has impact so be careful with your words.

When I discovered writing/journaling/reading, it was absolutely an outlet for me as a young girl. It was the best outlet I could have ever had. In hindsight I was holding a lot within. I'd had a lot of experiences that I didn't know what to do with. I hadn't learned or understood how to identify my own feelings. Writing was my chance to dissect all the...things. Writing allowed me to write and scream, and cry, and mourn everything I would never say or even mildly articulate to anyone aloud. I could simultaneously explore all my avenues of thought that it felt so stifled or shuttered. Writing in my youth was the foundation for me having a voice in my adulthood. 

In many instances I was coming of age in a familial culture where children were seen and not heard. As an adult with perspective, I would actually say children, in general, were an afterthought in the wreckage of "adult" business and choices in most of the households I lived in. In the end I wrote some very raw and troubled emotional tirades on paper as I came of age and it permanently changed some of my relationships. It was the catalyst for me having to learn some hard but necessary lessons. When it comes to my writing origin story I can most widely say, that at the time, the lessons I learned changed my personal perspective and the freedom with which I wrote- drastically. 

I always wanted it back though- the freedom. I don't know what that says about me deep down but I still wanted to be one of the ones gifted with the natural talent to use words and be brave enough to use them with a bold free hand even when I consciously shunned the idea or felt shame for wanting it. Because isn't it wrong to wanna BE God- even if just on paper? Isn't it selfish to be free? Isn't there a right way to use words? A righteous way? Shouldn't it be my goal to be tempered and responsible and polite--cautious? Shouldn't my writing think about the people around me? 

As a young adult I remember reading Oprah's notorious book club pick, A Million Little Pieces. It was a bold, unflinching, and in your face read. I was suspicious and intrigued at the author's talent and audacity. When the scandal unfolded it was almost like an affirmation. I let out a breath. It affirmed my burgeoning Spiderman philosophy in writing, "to whom much is given, much is required". The author's very public smack down and cancellation before the social masses ever really did that sort of thing was a mental back pat that you didn't just write any 'ol kind of way and get away with it! 

Anyway, I got into the habit where I would write journals and lists and contracts and letters and all that everyday informal stuff- because I still needed to write but my voice was gone. I lacked depth and authenticity when I wrote. I would try to write something personal and be bogged down with thoughts about what others might think or how they would be effected or how my words might come across. I would measure my words against the standards of others. Bare bones magical storytelling or raw emotion, the shit that splinters open something real? That was and is something entirely different and I no longer dared to do that. 

I went through a stage where I believed that if I could become clever enough maybe I could be a writer without the authenticity bit. I don't know if I consciously mapped a course for that but there was a time where no matter how many hundreds of books I've read, no matter the vast cumulative hours, days, years of literary consumption I had, I could never have the knowledge or insight that made me smart enough to spin a masterpiece others would want to consume. It's hard to write well without including little splinters of yourself. Ironically, no matter how many vocabulary words I know, it's the simple words that ring true and it the plain language that always hit me the hardest. 

I haven't been brave enough to be my real self on the page for a good and long time. 

I'm so glad I've grown a bit. I'm so glad I tried writing down the bones again. I'm so glad that I'm getting past discounting myself. I'm so glad that I'm learning and flexing my writing muscles as they grow. I suspect this blog will be about me learning. 

I'm proud to say that being a writer of a certain age I am still learning many things anew. I used to think people grew up to a certain number of years and then refused anything new or fresh in life. I had seen that model of living in action with seemingly irrefutable evidence to that adage- you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I'm so glad familiar or even societal habits don't have to be passed along or consumed. 

There are many things to talk about many things here on my little blog. It's still the way I process life but I will likely talk most about me learning to write authentically and just plain...better. 

What are you all learning and talking about in this season of your life? If you are a writer, what personal limiting beliefs are you overcoming?

 

Chile, I can't believe it!

I don't know what wild hair made me search the blogger sphere and look for my old blog but I did. I also don't know what possessed me to see if I could log into it... 

Presto! 

I'm here. 

Since my last entry in 2011 I've had several more moves including a second move back overseas and but to Germany. We moved to Kansas a second time, California once, and also repeated Georgia. We currently reside in Kentucky but will be on our way to Washington state soon enough. This military life has been...extensive. 

Since my last entry I've had two more children and my son who I announce on the blog is fourteen going on fifteen this year. 

Since my last entry I've attempted to write a romance novel-- several times. At this point it's been a while since I've written a story but I can still vividly recall those first days I first decided to try and ended up with over 50 pages written. 

It was magical. I didn't know I could until I did and it was coherent and it was real. Now I have MANY unfinished manuscripts strewn about the home now. It's foolish to think that this year will be the year but I must admit...sometimes I be playing the fool.

Since my last entry why family became permanent homeschoolers during and then also "after" covid. It's been amazing- at least I hope. There is always the fear that the kids will grow up and one day reveal that it all sucked and they struggled and did for me but would have preferred public school.

My middle child actually wants to go back next year and while I've gone full advocate for homeschooling I would let her make that choice to return. This may be one of those things she needs to see for herself. She's in that tween stage and I want her to feel heard, understood, supported, and validated in choosing what's right for her. 

Not so secretly I suspect public school won't be what she hoped it would be, learning style wise, and I can validate, support, hear, and understand her right to change her mind as well. As far as I'm concerned it's not such a high stakes decision to experiment with. Recovery in either direction is low cost. 

Since my last entry too many changes, twists, and turns have happen for me to list them nonchalantly in a reintroduction post. Over the years I have thought many times about blogging. I think I even produced a couple of entries on a "new" blog somewhere out in these cyber streets at some point. Can't recall where. I had a knitting video podcast on YouTube that I started and quit within the same year many years ago. Funny enough, I enjoyed all of those things. Simply put, I did not make time or seriously dedicate myself to them. 

I used the internet a certain way when I was younger. It was a spare time compartmentalised occasional conversation piece.  Now I often wonder if I had been more diligent could I have parlayed my hobbies and interests into something more that was lucrative and fulfilling. Hindsight is always 20/20, ultimately I think the answer is that I didn't have confidence/determination/motivation anyway.

There's always that pesky little problem of never quite being able to group my words in that impressive way that could evoke like I always dreamed. 

In the early years, when I was blogging there were plenty of examples of hobbyist going professional. Now days I feel a little out or sorts and put off by the terrain out here. I'm not so sure that blogging happens just for blogging sake anymore. I'm not so sure that personal blogging isn't plain out of vogue.  It seems as though that is the sole roadmap for a blog is profit.  

Isn't everyone using AI now anyway?! lol. 

Regardless of all the reasons I could talk myself out of things, I'm back on blogging. Old school. The purpose is for my own pleasure. The content will be a range. I live a full bodied life and my brain is always on. I be doing and experiencing all kinds of shit. 😂

On that note, I don't intend to censor myself though I also don't curse much anymore. 

Nevertheless, we've established, I'm a woman of a certain age- I'll say what I want and be free here.