A New Adventure

Gone are my hardwood floors, my large front and back porches, my arbors, and my gardens. My new front porch is a good size for a little house. I have a nice deck out back, but there’s linoleum in the kitchen and bathrooms and I’m back to wall-to-wall carpet.

Gone is my country view on all four sides. My new neighborhood is full of well-maintained little houses and lawns, but there are lots of dogs and kids and basketball hoops.

Gone are my big spare bedrooms. My new house has one spare room with a queen-size bed that has to share its space with Mike’s desk. The smallest bedroom is my new office.

Gone is the three-car Morton barn building, the three-compartment out-building, and the potting shed. My new house has a utility shed in the back yard and a single-car garage.

Gone is Michael's weekly three-hour two-acre mowing, now he’s looking at a half hour … maybe … to cut the sweet little back and front yard.

Gone is my five-minute commute to work. Thirty minutes might get me there on time … at least for now.

Gone are my spacious bathrooms. I think I can turn around in both new bathrooms. I think.

Gone is my pantry, my laundry room. Now they are one in the same.

Gone are the six fireplaces, old wood mantels, and unique wooden walls and ceilings. My new house has one wood-burning fireplace and beautiful stonework, but the walls are drywall, the ceilings – popcorn. But clean. Clean is good, right?

Gone is my country kitchen. Hello range that needs replaced, and pink Formica countertops.

But halleluiah, also GONE is the monster mortgage payment. Ginormous heating bills. Stressing over the economy. Time to make changes, sacrifices, and move forward. To a new dream. A new adventure, as my sister put it. A move back to Ohio in five years, to be near our children, grandchildren, and to build a new house. A new house that’s every bit as beautiful as the Farmhouse. Our current temporary, smaller, cheaper house is part of making that dream come true.

I’m grateful for it.

A Southern Fried Woman moving north? Yep. You heard it here first. At some point in the next few years, this southern woman will head north. The “South,” however, never leaves you. It remains in your heart no matter where you hang your hat. For me, as I grow older, what’s more important than my geographical location … is my family.

And that’s all I need to say.

Blessings to you and yours.

Hello November?

It's November 1st. I've skipped a whole month.

I'm moving. Yes, moving.

Again.

Downsizing, economy, moving closer to family ... too many reasons to name. It's a good thing. Truth is, October was filled with mixed emotions, tons of work (packing up a house is lots of work) and writing. WRITING, WRITING, WRITING.

Many good things loom on the horizon. More than ever before. Michael and I have entered into what we believe to be (despite the economy and the move into a much smaller house) the most exciting time of our lives. We welcome it.

We'll keep you posted.

Blessings to you and yours.

Goodbye September

September has blown in, spun around, and is threatening to leave the same way summer did.

Raining.

Rain. God, when will it stop? Occasionally, I think God likes to remind me what it was like to live Ohio with continuous days of rain. Falling on my gray moods, rolling fog penetrates my head as well as the air outside. The house is damp and cooler. I'd like to start making fires in the fireplace and forget the world exists outside of my cocoon. I withdraw once again to the computer, to my stories, and to a world in which I'm most comfortable.

I'm making decisions this month. Going so long between blog posts (as usual) is not because I'm not writing. In fact, I'm consumed with reading and writing these days. Blogging has taken a back seat, once again. I've been consumed by one book after another, and seldom sit without a book in my lap. My heart longs for the next chapter as my hands reach for my reading glasses. I'm engrossed in many genres I don't write in. It's refreshing.

I met with my best writing friend this week, and the one thing I realized while having lunch with her is that this whole year has taught me a valuable lesson about how I want to spend the rest of my life. Writing. The passion never wavered. In fact, it strengthened. Working a full-time job has forced me to look hard at my future. I'll blog more about that later.

But for now, I'm itching to do what I love most. What relaxes me, moves me, makes me who I am. It's been long enough, the funnel is full and I'm ready to get to it.

Blessings to you and yours.

Change

Change.

I see it, feel it. The air around me is enhanced by the smell of change. Hot and humid evaporated and left us with cool and cloudy. School buses, mums for sale, brown corn waiting for harvest. It's September. Not yet Autumn, no longer Summer. That in-between month not sure what season to call itself.

The air conditioner has been turned off. Crisp night air blows into my bedroom, carrying an aroma of plowed earth and the occasional scent of a far-off skunk. I'm waiting. For more change.

Change. Brilliant, earth-shattering change comes so seldom in our lifetime. An idea, a thought, a dream of success drives us to make changes. More often, change is subtle and we adapt to most of it. But unfortunate or deliberate mistakes force changes that are often perceived as horrific, when in fact, they are not. I thought perhaps this entire past year would stifle me, hurt me, turn my writing into scraps meant for the dogs.

The sabbatical, as I call it, has accomplished quite the opposite. As I read the dribs and drabs from the past months of here and there, I view my writing very much as grapes in a press. Condensed, but richer. Turned into something undeniably palatable. Smooth.

I like this change.

There are more changes to come. Some not so good, I'm afraid. But, as always, I'm a survivor. I'll get through it and it'll end up as prose somewhere in one of my stories. This year has proven to me one great fact. Unconditionally, I'm a writer. That, dear friend, will see me through the rest of my life. Every change in life can be twisted to the good. If we want it to be.

Blessings to you and yours.

Rules? What Rules?

I'm deep into the third book of the Outlander series. If you've never read the books by Diana Gabaldon, I highly suggest them. My head is wrapped up in the ecstasy and agony of Claire and Jamie and what could possibly happen next! I've been meaning to finish all five books before the new one comes out this year. I hear OUTLANDER has been successfully optioned for film and they're currently casting characters. But who knows where that stands, really. All I know is that they're going to have to go some to make the movie as magnificent as the novels.

But, here I am, not only devouring the novels, but studying Diana's writing style. She's quite a genious, in my opinion. Her research is amazing (like Jodi Piccoult) and, once again, Gabaldon holds me in the palm of her hand as my time slips into the stratosphere. We Gabaldon readers tend consume her books in only a few day-long reading marathons.

What's even more amazing to me, is she breaks every damn rule in the book. Not only are her novels 800 pages to over 1,000 pages in length, she does stuff like change point-of-view not only within the paragraph, but within a sentence!!! In the book VOYAGER, I recently read point-of-view being changed twice in one sentence. I just sat there. Stunned. I had to read it over and over. But then I started to laugh. The way she wrote it, it made perfect sense. I understood who was thinking when, and was not confused by any "talking heads."

Now, if you've ever sat through months/years of creative writing classes, as well as hours of never-ending writing conferences, you would know that changing point-of-view within a paragraph or a sentence is a huge WHAT-NOT-TO-DO RULE. A big no-no. It warrants immediate rejections from editors and agents. Unless, I guess, if you've already sold millions of books and your name is Diana Gabaldon.

You go girl. My hero.

Blessings to you and yours, Ms. Gabaldon.

Where Do You Draw The Line?

As a writer, we're bombarded with emails. It's our own fault. We signed up for every newsletter available.

As the Internet became the popular breeding ground for writers seeking to advance their careers, we found ourselves overwhelmed with information.

If you're a writer, you know what I'm talking about. How much time have you spent, reading one blog after another? Do you find yourself caught in a maze of Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace? How many Writer's Digest and Publishers Lunch emails land in your Inbox each week?

Then there are the writing groups and conferences, all pulling for your attention. Shoot, I just want to go for coffee with my writing buddy, Dena. Talk writing. Gossip. Share the latest in our quest for bestseller-status. Laugh about it.

Throw in a full-time job, family time, time to clean the house, mow the yard, and do the laundry ... hells bells, it's no wonder we're frustrated. We squeeze writing and editing time into the early morning hours or late in the day. Occasionally, when things are slow at work, I can write a blog. Like now.

As I sit here now, I yearn for the days to attend another writing conference, plan my next publicity and speaking tour, support the open-mic in Winston-Salem with the Writer's Group. I'd give a kidney for non-stop writing time. I want to live in my stories. Start the next book. Finish the current one.

Setting priorities is tough when there's so many of them.

I need a new website, gather my thoughts for a few magazine articles I'm wanting to write, set my writing goals for the rest of the year. The list becomes longer as I think about it. I'm ready to draw the line.

So very ready.

Blessings to you and yours.

Practice What You Preach, Pam. Take Time To Blog.

Where has the month gone? I strolled through Garden Ridge the other day. You know, the cheapie store that sells housewares. Well, I kid you not, they've stuffed the front of the store with Halloween yard decorations. Front and center. Smack dab as you walk through the door. Christmas trees and walls filled with every ornament imaginable are just beyond the pumpkins and broomsticks. Of course, summertime clearance items are now stashed way in the back.

I hate it when stores rob us of our time.

Our time on this earth is so fleeting. My children visited recently and we poured through bags of old pictures ... sighing ... remembering. They were babies only yesterday, it seems. Laughing and crying over one memory and the next, it made me stop and ponder real hard about how little time we have to make life matter. To write a letter. To perform a kindness. To learn from our mistakes. To say we're sorry. To express our love. To call an old friend. To rest. To leave a legacy.

To blog.

Take time to make life matter.

Don't let time take you.

Blessings to you and yours.