Thursday, July 25, 2024

It's been a minute

The view from my office window

 

It's honestly been a lot longer than a minute. There was a time this blog served as my virtual journal, where I wrote without thought to who might be reading it. Then somewhere along the way, I got suckered into the clicks, the metrics, the shares and spent my time boosting posts into my social media timelines. It suddenly became more important to be noticed than to be creating. 

Which wasn't good for my mental health or my writing. 

Creativity is a tiny flame in the darkness, vulnerable to wind and weather. I had forgotten how carefully it needs to be tended. 

It doesn't not slip my notice that my endless scrolling on social media and craving for the external validation it sometimes provided coincided with the long slow slog of my current manuscript. I've said this before and I'll repeat it here - if only to hammer it home in my mind - to write means being able to sit with the discomfort when it gets difficult. Having social media as a crutch meant I had a ready exit from the work. 

Not only that, but the rapid fire nature of a social media feed seemed to obliterate my ability to focus my attention on long form work - both reading and writing. 

If anything is the death knell for a writer it's the inability to read and think deeply. 

It's also been a year full of radical changes in my personal life. In 2023, my spouse left a toxic job and is now semi-retired. We sold a house and moved fully to our homestead farm in Central Massachusetts. (We still have a storage unit full of unpacked boxes to prove it.) I won't even mention the cataclysmic changes in the world at large.

Everything culminated in my decision to step away from most of my social media streams. I haven't checked my personal Facebook feed in 2 weeks.* And in just those weeks, feel like my mind and thoughts have room to grow. I've engaged with my writing more fully and more deeply than I have in a long time. 

I'm letting myself be bored instead of reaching for my phone. 

I'm emailing long letters to friends. I have a bunch of cards I'm planning to mail as well. 

And most remarkably, the days feel longer. Story is swirling around my mind again. I spent several intense days doing a final read through and light edit to LITANY FOR A BROKEN WORLD ahead of sending it to my editor. After all the time struggling to write it, rewrite it, multiple revisions and changes, it finally says what I wanted and needed it to say. 

Whether or not it finds its readership isn't up to me. I can't make that happen through social media or promotion. I will be releasing it just after the new year. What happens after, happens. There will be a book 2 (Working title EVERY SKY A STRANGER). There are other stories tickling my back brain. 

There will be plums to harvest in a week or so. And blackberries. The kale and chard are taking over the garden. Everything grows and matures in its own time. The garden, the orchard, stories. Our lives are a process. Not a destination. 

I'm still here. I hope you are, too. Wherever you are in your process, I hope you find the breath and time to simply be. 


With fondness,

LJ


*You may still see me posting on IG, because there's never a bad time to add beauty to the world. Most of what I post there are photos of StarField Farm, knitting, pottery, food, and of course, my dogs.



Subscribe to BlueMusings and receive my short story collection, STRANGER WORLDS THAN THESE, as my gift.




Thursday, June 08, 2023

Litany for a Broken World



I am still here, though you might not know that by looking at my (sorely neglected) blog or my spotty social media presence. Finally, after 5 years of word-wrangling, I have finished my latest manuscript. 

A young girl's disastrous first foray through the multiverse cleaves her from her family and abandons her in a homeless encampment, adrift in a body not her own.

A doctor struggling with grief volunteers for the annual Boston homeless census and is confronted by the impossible and her deeply buried childhood trauma.

A lonely, disaffected seer rejected by those he seeks to help is drawn from his home by a desperate call across the world walls.

Three strangers, each broken in some way, become targets of an organization exploiting those with the ability to travel the multiverse.

Drawn together into a conflict that has already destroyed generations of multiverse Travelers and damaged countless worlds, the three must risk everything that matters to heal the fractured places in themselves and across reality.

This is Litany For a Broken World. 

I'd like to share the first chapter with you. 

 

Tuesday, February 28, 2023

When every day is blursday

Winter finally arrives at StarField Farm

 
 
The past few months have gone by in a blur of family stress and change. And even when change is ultimately positive, it is still difficult. 

My spouse left the hospital he had worked at for the entirety of his 30+ year career. At my urging, he has taken January and February off to decompress from the traumatic years of covid, among other stresses, before he decides what's next. Which means neither of us have the external markers of time passing. Hence the title of this blogpost. 
 
Despite everything, I have managed to complete the (as yet unnamed) multiverse novel and am deep into its second revision. In the process, I have unlocked the conflicts at the heart of the sequel. Now I'm eager to complete book 1 and move on to drafting book 2. 
 
Book 1 takes place over a few day span in a Boston winter, so in a way, I've been living in those brief moments in time for several years. Blursday, indeed. When I look out the window today, the landscape finally matches my internal sense of place. 
 
Living in the Northeast US, the other way I have always kept track of where I am in time is the march of the seasons. And that, too, has been changing in ways that I find quite disorienting. 
 
In my lifetime (I'll be 60 this year) I have watched the seasons skew, more extreme "100 year" storms, & overall less predictable seasonal weather patterns.

There's already word that there will be no stone fruit in New England this season because of the weather extremes we had earlier in the month - from 50 degrees F to -13 within days.

I am a scifi geek, so I often reflect on the ST:TNG episode The Inner Light where Picard's consciousness is snagged by a memory beacon & he lives a lifetime with a civilization coming to grips with its own extreme climate change as its sun ends up as a supernova. Ah, Science Fiction shining a light on the present since forever.

This is heavy thinking for a beautiful snowy morning in Central Massachusetts, so I will leave you with a haiku:

 

round bellied birds perch
trees snug in coats of fresh snow
how still the world waits

 




Subscribe to BlueMusings and receive my short story collection, STRANGER WORLDS THAN THESE, as my gift.



Monday, November 28, 2022

The False Urgency of Commerce

I have deleted hundreds of emails and text messages in the past week exhorting me to Spend! Buy! Save! Donate! 

To be honest, I love shiny things as much as any crow, but I'm done with the false urgency of commerce.

These not-so-subtle messages embedded in all these communications is that w are not enough. That we need to fill our emptiness with stuff. That we are judged on our acquisitions. 

I guess our society has always had this lurking, but it feels like it's ramped up to eleven this year. 

Fuck that noise.

We are wonderful for who we are. (Thank you, Mr. Rogers).

So share your weird and wild selves. 

We are the gift.



Subscribe to BlueMusings and receive my short story collection, STRANGER WORLDS THAN THESE, as my gift.