How To Deal With the World?

Budapest circa 1995

I'm returning to basics--taking walks around the neighborhood with a friend, taking pictures with my cell phone, taking time to tell myself that the reason I started writing back when I was eight years old was to understand the world and to use the beauty of language to ask important questions and seek answers, and also to observe. My father always reminded me that it was important to be observant. I don't know what inspired him to offer that shiny gem, but it managed to light a path in my brain and, more importantly, in my heart, My first book was eight pages long, bound in knitting yarn. My new novel is 300+ pages, yet the impulse is the same: look closely and maybe we will see. I'm also reminding myself that much of life is good. This picture of our son and me in Budapest made me smile. I hope it will make you smile too. I'm also linking to Caroline Leavitt's blog and her stupendous interview with Anne Lamott. Their conversation really speaks to what I need, and what I believe we all need these days: kindness and honesty. http://carolineleavittville.blogspot.com/…/anne-lamott-talk…

Hello, to my cover

Strangers In Budapest, my new novel, launches Nov.14, 2017

Beauty persists

A reminder to turn your attention to beauty. It will help you.

Snow Moon 2017

Hello, snow moon (from my kitchen window) here.

Remembering

My father died six years ago this month. (December 13,  2010). He was a complicated man and often difficult, but he was also one of my biggest and most consistent cheerleaders when it came to my pursuit of writing. For all his ability to be critical about many things in life, he never suggested or implied or hinted that I should stop writing. I started writing poetry when I was a teenager and during those years I would share my poems with my father. I can see him sitting across from me in our screened-in porch, carefully going over every line and word I wrote, pausing to consider what I was trying to say, and encouraging me to keep on with it. Later, when I was publishing articles in national magazines and newspapers, he was my number one fan. With each publication, I got a congratulatory note and a phone call. I'm eternally grateful to my dad for this gift of acceptance about my passion for books and words. Recently, as I was cleaning out old files, I came upon a letter he wrote to his four children about the importance of pursuing what we loved, how it triumphed over such things as money and status. His letter is wistful, but it was written with a generous and courageous heart. I'm sorry he died before my first novel was published, but with greater clarity I see how my decision to pursue a life of writing truly thrilled him. With thanks, and much love to you, Dad. You can read portions of his letter here: http://confessionsofahermitcrab.blogspot.com/2016/12/ancestral-wisdom.html

Embers In the Sky