Forward Movement

Sunset over sand bar to Bar Island at low tide by Laura J. Bear

A review and a plan:

2015 was a big year for good things. It witnessed the launch of my first novel: WHERE THE HEART LANDS in March. I turned a half century old. My son got married. I had the good fortune of participating in two writing retreats: the Cayuga Lake retreat with my writing sisters and the New Hampshire Berlin Writers Retreat at Coppertoppe Inn in Hebron, NH where I was reunited with the extraordinary writer Greg Norris and met several wonderful new friends in person after hearing about them for so long.

We were not immune to sad and tragic things in 2015. We lost our dear friend Mike. The news brought ugly events into our home: racism, torture, death, general inhumanity, and a more and more divided nation with crazier political ridiculousness every day. My fifty-year-old body was suddenly less able to deal with chronic pain issues and stress. With sorrow and age comes renewed appreciation for everything I take for granted every other day: the warm sun on my face, the rain pinging on the rooftop; the kiss of wind on my skin; my family; my health,; my friends; trees, water, birds, animals, nature; quiet; laughter; a bicycle ride; live music; writing; my ability to read; the fragility of life; the capacity to love someone more than yourself; the simple sharing of my day with my spouse; the touch of his hand; the knowing that someone else cares about where I am at any given time.

Each new year offers a fresh page to my story and  I am setting some goals for 2016:

1) Choose kindness over being right, especially in my own house!
2) Write something every day, and don't sweat the word count.
3) Submit a short story every two weeks.
4) Write at least one nonfiction article a month.
5) Finish the draft of novel #2.
6) Play my mandolin or guitar at least every other day.
7) Think before I speak, and listen more than I talk.
8) Cook on the weekends and  freeze dinners for the work week.
9) Laugh more.
10) Go for it: I'm not getting any younger. Quit striving for perfection and jump in.
11) Learn from my mistakes and move on.
12) Get outside every chance I get.

May your new year be your best one yet.

Be Golden

Golden reflection at World's End State Park photo by author Laura J. Bear, October 2015

Since we are having such an unusually warm December so far, I decided that a snowy picture just wouldn't work. Besides, I thought it it might be a good time to talk about some things that have been on my mind, if you'll indulge me for a moment.

The news lately has been distressing: senseless mass killings; discrimination of any number of people; fear so widespread that people are willing to cling to their weapons and their insular slice of the continent at the expense of their humanity; bickering, blaming, name-calling, and general ridicuous behavior of most of our politicians; the rampant materialism and increasing division of our nation. It's enough to make me want to scream...or lash out...or cry...or throw up my hands..or just throw up. Not to mention that this season of supposed good cheer and altruism can be a depressing hell for people who have lost loved ones because their pain is amplified by the fact that everyone else seems so damn happy. I truly can't stand it sometimes.

Yet, I am instantly lifted from the sucking power of this dark mind-muck by the tiniest hint of sweetness--a sparkle of humanity. When I am at my absolute lowest--when my heart is raw and bleeding and open in my chest, vulnerable to the jagged blade of hate--that's when I am most sensitive to the smallest kindness, the quietest act of love. A stranger holds the door open, makes eye contact, and smiles. Someone stands up with you when you speak out against the harming of an animal or some other wrong. Last week, someone told me how much they enjoyed my novel, that they loved my characters and related to them. I can think of no greater praise for a writer, and  I was deeply moved. As silly as people may believe social media to be and as easy an avenue it can be to spread lies and hatred, social media can help people join together: to learn, to grow, and to share the good things that humans do for each other. We can lift each other up, just as easily as we can tear someone down. Why not search for the gold? Caring about others doesn't subtract from your soul, it adds to your happiness bank. The more you care, the more you care. The more open you are to the experience of other human beings, the more open other people are to you.

It doesn't matter what we look like or what religion we follow or don't follow. It doesn't matter where we live or how screwed up our families are. Politics aren't people and shouldn't be treated as such. It doesn't matter what you wear or how big your house is or how much money you make or what the hell the Kardashians are doing. We're all people, damn it, help each other. Take care of each other. Take care of the Earth--our only home. The only thing worse than hate is apathy. The only cure for hatred and apathy is that four-letter word: LOVE. Can we please stop being assholes to each other? A divided nation or region or neighborhood is the breeding ground for terrorism. Hate feeds terrorism. Terrorists win every time we act out of fear and hate. So, just stop. No matter how much it bugs you, be golden instead. You want to lighten your own load? Lift someone else up. Notice how the water in the photo above looks like spun gold? Water is not inherently golden, it reflects everything around it. Be the gold and see how it reflects back to you.

The Company We Keep

Photo of view of Newfound Lake from Coppertoppe Inn,  Hebron, NH by Laura J. Bear

I just returned from a wonderful wrtier's retreat at a magical place called Coppertoppe Inn in the foothills of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Not only was the scenery breathtaking, with views from every room, but the company was stellar. Ten writers converged upon the Inn (including me) to share their work, refresh their spirits, and, well...write! It was my great fortune to be invited by a champion of writers: the extraordinary Gregory Norris, author of The Fierce and Unforgiving Muse, the screenplay for Brutal Colors, and Tales from the Robot Graveyard, among many hundreds of other titles. Greg is the quintessential writer: prolific with a seemingly infinite arsenal of ideas; organized with beautifully decorated files, notecards, and notebooks; and incredibly supportive and encouraging to other writers. Check out his blog: http://gregorylnorris.blogspot.com/. Through him, I was able to meet members of the delightful Berlin Writers group--all talented writers and lovely people in their own right.

I had been greatly needing a retreat with like-minded people. An all-consuming day job coupled with the urgent prodding of my latest project, my second novel and all the necessary daily routine stuff, not to mention the daunting task of continuing to promote my first recently hatched novel without being a bother, had depleted my soul. The desire was still there, but I had run out of fuel. I needed to recharge--a creative jump start. I found that in New Hampshire over Halloween weekend.

I arrived a day early, as my drive was the longest: six and a half hours through eastern New York, Vermont, and part of New Hampshire. One of my hosts, Sheila, of Coppertoppe Inn, greeted me on her way out to prepare for the arrival of the group the next day. Her husband Bill took over with charming and interesting conversation and recommendations for dinner in town. I had a luxioroius room with private bath and the breathtaking view above. I began to unwind and settle in for a night of writing after dinner, anticipating the arrival of the infamous Berlin Writers group the next day.

I decided to begin my morning with a  hike down the road from the Inn on the trails of a bird santuary and nature center with views of the lake. As I emerged with some confusion from one of the more overgrown trails,  a car crept down the steep dirt road to the park entrance. Peter Estabrooks and his wife, the poet Esther Lieber-Estabrooks surpised me with a warm greeting and to let me know that I should be receiving a package from them at the Inn today. This confirmed what would be an extraordinary weekend.

The rest of the group trickled in over the morning in small carloads until we were all assembled into our accomodations and had been introduced. The vibe was electric and inviting. Some of us set right to work, while others took some time to relax and enjoy the surroundings. Murder mystery writer Irene G. and I instantly connected on another walk to get the kinks out before sitting to write. The talented writer and artist Judi C. quickly became a soul sister. Heaven is in the kindred spirits you meet along the journey.

On Friday evening, we agreed to read from one of our new works. I had been playing around with a short story about one of the central characters in my new novel. The reading forced me to dig deeper into it. The group consisted of writings from all different genres. Each person read with passion, and the group gave constructive criticism: honest, but never mean. Each fellow writer contributed something with genuine care. On Saturday, it was determined that we must write a short story  of 1,000 words or less with Halloween as our writing prompt. As someone who struggles with finishng anything in one month, much less in one day, this was a daunting task for certain, but I was up for the challenge.

As the newbie to the group, I somehow missed that I was supposed to have a Halloween costume for Saturday night. Sheila came to the rescue with a chic vintage hat, black fitted blouse with gold details, and a wild black skirt for my transfromation into Dorothy Parker. Each reading was a new joy and my heart grew full. The aptly named Newfound Lake was the backdrop for this retreat, and indeed, I cherish my newfound group of writer friends: Irene, Esther, Judi, Bernie, June, Natalie, Jonathan, Tina, and, of course, dear Gregory; and my inspirational hosts: Sheila and Bill, who extended the warmest hospitality one can imagine. Words are inadequate to express my gratitude for the gift of that long weekend, but words are all I know, so I hope they will suffice. Thank you all.

Blood Moon Rising

Super Moon Blood Moon Lunar Eclipse 9/27/15 photo by Kevin Tomasello

Harvest moon, blood moon, total lunar eclipse, supermoon: all this happened at once this month. The moon was its closest to the Earth on September 27 to 28th, causing its greatest gravitational pull on our planet and offering a rare view of our nearest orbiting neighbor. A super moon is the closest full moon to the earth, which makes for a gigantic luminescent orb as it rises in the darkening sky. Although the term blood moon denotes gothic images of werewolves, vampires, and witches, its scientific meaning is less dramatic. A blood moon is a relatively new term for the fourth total lunar eclipse in a tetrad: four total lunar eclipses separated by six full moons (six months) with no partial eclipses between. According to Earth and Sky earthsky.org,  the term blood moon carries religious significance as a prophesy for the end of time. I'll let you read more about that on their website, but there seem to be so many signs of the end of days that I wonder if these days are in fact much longer than our 24 hour days? In any event, it makes for a spectacular night image with associated chills up one's spine. This moon also has the distinction of being a harvest moon: the full moon that shines closest to the autumnal equinox. The brightness of this full moon supposedly allowed farmers to work at peak harvest late into the night. Great story fodder, in any event!

I've been feeling the gravitational pull of my writing. It's been a struggle lately, juggling an increasingly stressful full time job with the utter need to write. Most of my days and nights are spent piecemeal: tiny morsels of time spent on projects that scream for intense, in-depth immersion. I find myself desperate for any tidbits of distracting creativity: a line of a poem, a musical phrase, quiet solitude for contemplation and gazing at my toenails, searching for the right words to lay down on the page. Any writing accomplished is like blood-letting: laborious, scrutinized, depressing, a strangled glut of words choked from a moldy gourd. Recently, a pleasant, although obviously non-writer gentleman informed me that he didn't see the problem with writing a book. "You just come up with an outline and write it out, don't you?" I nodded, teeth clenched, head wobbling like a pumpkin on a corn stalk. If it were that easy, I suppose I would have a thousand books by now. Perhaps, a book should appear easily written, like a doctor who breezes in for a five minute visit with his or her patient, quickly diagnosing and treating a medical problem. No one sees the eight or more years of schooling and the four or more years of residency: the extended sleepless marathons of common colds and domestic abuse cases; the wretched consequences of mistakes; the soul-battering humiliation and genuine fear of not being an immediate expert. Everyone thinks they know what it is because they read it on the internet or their second cousin's nephew's girlfriend is a nurse and she said ...

Not to compare writng to medicine, but why not? It requires the skill of a surgeon, the language application of a linguist, the most passionate open-heart imaginable, and the full-body armor of a knight: not to mention the total exposure of your very soul to the whole world. To all my writer friends out there: may the blood of passion eclipse your doubts and reap your best harvest as you grow and grow and GROW.

First, Get Outside...

Photo of author in her kayak by Kevin Tomasello c. 2015

I need a distraction from working on my new novel--okay, not really, I need an excuse not to work on it. Actually, a little procrastination goes a long way. Too long. I have a whole list of writing projects I need to work on, so why do I hesitate? My mind craves silence...and nature. Ideas rush between the tortuous convulusions of my cerebrum, yet I balk at putting them to page. My much more prolific colleagues continue to create and publish every scribbled thought--or so it seems--while my words thunk to the page with all the elegance of a corpse.

The truth is, I have been pulled away from writing by the bodacious bounty of a rare and splendid summer. The hot sun has been tempered by the low humidity--almost impossible in this Susquahanna River valley, nicknamed "Sinus Valley" for good reason. Even without a breeze, the air has been warm and dry with a hint of the Atlantic sneaking in from the far-off coast. Our little dog Teddy raises his muzzle often, as if to sniff the salt air. We are several hundred miles from the coast, however, and even further from the wonderfully rocky Maine coast we love so much. Not the crowded Downeast known to most vacationers, but further up, to Acadia's Schoodic pennisula and beyond. My husband and I were married on a fishing boat 14 years ago, in the harbor. Sadly, our paradise has been discovered by developers and summer in Bar Harbor has been lost to a bulky luxury hotel that juts out into the water while masses of sightseers crowd the streets. For the first time last summer, it was a chore to buy a week's pass to Acadia National Park. People spilled from the crush of the parking lot into the park office like marshmallow Easter Peeps squished in their box. The beauty of Maine's craggy coastline, though, is that there is so much of it that one can find hidden gems in its lesser known crevices. There I go, off on a tangent again. Ah, the winding mind of a wanderer.

Anyway, I have been soaking up the glorious days of this solstice before they get away. Occasionally wracked by guilt for not writing every day, I have taken long weekends away from my day job to bicycle the rolling hills, paddle the river, amble through the local park with my spouse and my dog, pluck juicy tomatoes and alarming zucchini monsters from the garden, and generally goof off. I don't feel too bad, though (says my wretched, sniveling, shackled inner writer). Soon enough, the leaves will fall and the bite of winter will arrive. There will be plenty of days to document all this rumination. Hopefully, those pasty white words will lose some of their dead weight and dance upon the page like snowflakes. For now, let the sweet sun shine!

Thank the stars for the dark night, or I'd never get any writing done.

Summertime...Lessons Learned

Author with Teddy In Ithaca

Okay, this photo is a few years old, but the subjects look about the same. I've been trying to focus on writing the next book, but I do get distracted by the beautiful weather lately. I wrote a chapter tonight on Novel 2, but I haven't been keeping up with my blog, so I thought I'd take a few moments to write an update.

We had a heavy downpour here this afternoon: cancelling our plans for bike riding or walking the dog, but helping me get back to work on my writing with little regret. It's been difficult to stay the course. My debut novel WHERE THE HEART LANDS has been doing well, but the process of discovery is slow. I know I need to get more of my work out there, but so many things tear me away from the writing each day: full-time job as a speech language pathologist, husband who likes to do things with me, and furry family members who demand attention, treats, walks, and petting. My son is all grown up and now a married man with his own demands, but I still miss him and want to talk to him all the time. The weather in upstate New York has been spectacular. A rare and welcome treat. This summer has been cooler--in the 70s and low 80s with lots of sunshine, and plenty of rain in between. We're due for a heat wave this week, but it still feels like Fall is just around the corner. The seasons move so fast any more, like life.

As I grow older, I cherish the beautiful things so much more. Is it my imagination, or are the weekends and summer days growing shorter? I wish I could talk to my 20-year-old self with the knowledge I've gained in the thirty years since. What would I tell that feckless young woman?

1) Chase your dreams, you might not get another chance.
2) Work hard, and love your work. Don't be such a lazy ass!
3) Be kind to everyone, mean people need it more than anyone else.
4) A smile works much better than an angry word.
5) Forgive yourself, you're never going to be perfect.
6) Don't dwell on the past, it doesn't change a thing!
7) Tell people what you love about them.
8) Give up the people and things that don't love you back, without regret.
9) It's okay to be still sometimes.
10) Listen more than you talk. You will learn much more than you ever imagined.

Enjoy each day, my friends. There will never be another like it!

Dog Days of Writing

Teddy sound asleep in the shade of the Burning Bush.

It's the dog days of summer this weekend. Hot, humid temperatures after a mostly cool, pleasant season so far. Teddy does what most dogs do during the smoldering heat--sticks to the shade.

We spent all day yesterday pulling out overgrown weed trees and other jungle-like growths spilling over from the neighbor's into our gardens. We were a little grumbly at first, then we decided to ask our neighbor if she minded if we cut down some stuff on her side of the fence. She was relieved and even offered homemade iced tea after she came out to help. We spent the afternoon sweating and hauling brush as we chatted and learned more about each other's lives. She is recently divorced and raising a daughter with health problems. Not much time or care for what her garden was doing. A good reminder not to judge your neighbor.

Today a nice bicycle ride with a friend we haven't seen in a while. The 93 degrees didn't seem quite so bad with the breeze! I've been re-reading May Sarton's journals--THE HOUSE BY THE SEA after reading JOURNAL OF A SOLITUDE. An intelligent, somewhat tortured, talented soul who greatly inspires me. She is more positive in SEA, where she moves into a rented house on the coast of Maine. Maine is a special place for me, but today I am grateful for our little home on the hill with our wild gardens and good bicycling roads. Trips to Maine help me with my ocean fixation. I love that rocky coast with the mountains and sea in one stunning place. If it weren't so far from family, we would be there all the time.

I've been getting some positive feedback on my novel WHERE THE HEART LANDS and knocked out over a thousand words tonight on the new novel. Back to work at the day job tomorrow, then another day "off" of more writing and, if the weather holds--another bicycle ride. Life is what you make it. Sometimes I need a kick in the pants to remember.

Do something that inspires you today.