I saw this in the New York Times and had to share. I can almost see myself living in these rooms.
Whew! It’s been a while. I’m still here. Living. Writing. Laughing when I can. I’ve thought about blogging twenty times a day since the last post ten months ago. I have snaps on my phone that make no sense now, but at the time, I connected them to an idea. Something to share here.
I wasn’t ready.
Hence, the graphic ↑.
Last week, Cherry cleaned her room. If you know a normal sixteen-year-old, then you understand the magnitude of the event.
“Mom, I don’t want this.” She handed me a clear acrylic cube of printed cards.
“What are they?”
“Conversation starters. The white elephant gift from the swim team Christmas party.”
It’s been parked on my desk since. This morning, I opened the box and withdrew the first card.
How do you measure success and who do would you consider a successful person?
Taylor Swift. Barack Obama. J. K. Rowling. Elisabeth Crisp.
Success isn’t talent, money, power, or accolades. It’s knowing at the end of the day, I’ve done my job. It’s a line of sequential X’s on the calendar, representing the days I put a pen to paper, fed my family, bound a wound, or made another person laugh. Success is measured in quantity time.
Quantity. Not quality.
Time. Not dollars.
Are you ready to start?
How much are you willing to give?
Life happens, and I respond. It’s survival instinct. But after fight or flight, I shut down. Also survival instinct. The problem is my world doesn’t allow time for daydreams, so I push on until the well is dry.
This morning, like the Ella Henderson song, I went to the river to pray. For me, that means staring into space, listening for a silenced inner voice, moving my hand across a smooth clean page, indulging in the sound of my pen’s nib etching new ideas.
Will it work? Don’t know. What can I expect? Doesn’t matter. The important thing is to trust the process.
If you want to join me, here’s some mood music.
Books are a uniquely portable magic.—Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
Here’s the plan:
- Read fifty books in 2015. I won’t count a book I don’t finish.
- With a few exceptions, most are written by women and published in 2014 or 2015.
- On the first day of the month, I’ll post the last month’s list. I’ll also post on Goodreads where you can find a short synopsis of every book. See the link to my Goodreads account in the side column.
- I’m a reader, not a critic. So, no reviews. But, I’m happy to share in the comments and learn what you think, too.
Here’s what I read in March:
- Running Blind by Lee Child
- Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple
All of these books came from the San Antonio Public Library. They are shelved in the New Book or Express Collections.
Total books read so far in 2015: 16
**March was a weak month. I started several books that I didn’t finish.