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Not Feeling Jolly? Read This…

Here we are, smack in the middle of the holiday season, and I’m waffling on how much good cheer I plan to spread. Too much will spread me too thin, and too little will make me feel crusty and crotchety. I’ve already told my kids that I don’t feel like buying a tree this year. “Jeez, mom, why not just cancel Christmas?” my daughter said. 

See? There’s pressure everywhere to be jolly and generous, to shine brightly, to bake and shop and make polite chitchat. It’s the time of year for white elephants—the kind that come in wrapping paper or as 2-ton grievances that crush the joy out of family gatherings.

7 Secrets To Writing a Finished Piece EVERY Week

Vince Reidsma started out as just my friend Martha’s dad, the guy who kept the pool clean so we could swim all summer. Later, when I was in my teens, he was the guy from church who spent a lot of time talking to my parents as their marriage was unraveling. More than 30 years later, as one of my mom’s best friends, he has re-entered my life wearing a new hat: seasoned writer.

Thankful For This Conversation…

I have terrible writer’s block today. I’m talking the worst. I’ve stared out the window, snacked on stale peanuts, made a cup of tea and let it get cold while I paced around, yelled in frustration (just once), done two loads of laundry, and bought a pair of boots online.

All I want to do is write about being thankful. Why is it so hard? I think it’s not because I have nothing to say, but because there’s too much and no easy place to start.

Live First. Then Write.

It was my first time facing a group of millennials and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was serving as a panelist at the Indiana University Media School Career Day. As an alumna with a journalism degree from IU, I was there to talk about writing careers.

How would I relate to a generation steeped in technology and global influences when my college memories included snail mail, interviews conducted on landlines, an electric typewriter, and learning to “burn” and “dodge” photos in a darkroom?

3 Ways To Massage Your Creative Muscle

I was lying face down in a dimly lit room, listening to the sounds of a harpsichord or sitar or something equally soothing, willing myself to be soothed. I’d been looking forward to this massage all week. I’d finally convinced myself that I deserved it and that I would not, under any circumstances, regret the expense. It wasn’t regret that followed me into the room, but a sticky cloud of anxiety.

Why did I drink coffee before my appointment? And why, why, why did I get on Facebook? I should have known better than to start my day wading through negative stories.

Peace Be With You

I’ve mentioned before that I work with a coach. Recently he had me take a “needs assessment.” I thought it might be like one of those quizzes in Cosmopolitan magazine, revealing that I need to buy more silky blouses, or light a scented candle. Or maybe it would be similar to a “love languages” test and tell me what I already know, that I need a lot of hugs.

I was surprised to learn that my number one need is for PEACE.

Pardner, This Ain’t Your First Rodeo

When my daughter was in fourth grade, she sang a solo in her school’s production of Schoolhouse Rock. I was sitting in the auditorium behind two men. A few bars into her rendition of “Elbow Room,” one turned to the other and said,”I’m guessing this ain’t her first rodeo.”

Of course, I was thrilled to hear this compliment and it was all I could do to keep myself from tapping the guy on the shoulder and gushing about how she takes voice lessons and dreams of being a stage performer.

Fiction: Hello Loved Ones

It’s 1968 in Holland, Michigan, and Sally Van Sloeten wants to know why her father doesn’t love her. Her mother, sister, and brother call her dad a deadbeat and never want to see him again, but Sally vows to find him in time for a Father/Daughter banquet, even if it means running away with a gas station attendant named Cash. She doesn’t care that her brother Lenny was arrested for breaking Cash’s nose. She won’t let Lenny’s explosive temper stand in her way, and she’s too preoccupied to wonder what has him so angry. All she knows is that she has to be like the other girls, whether it’s at the banquet or in the front seat of Cash’s car. But as Sally realizes her dream, her mother reveals a painful secret that sends her spinning out of control.

Something’s Gotta Give

A couple of months ago I skipped writing a blog because I was writing a script for a client about how important blogging is. It was one of life’s many ironies.

Then, more recently, I paused my weekly blog for a month to allow space to finish my manuscript, sign my publishing contract, and just breathe.

During this time, I watched one of my favorite movies, Something’s Gotta Give. There are so many things I love about this movie: Diane Keaton’s portrayal of a writer, the way her writing desk overlooks the ocean, the way she cries and laughs out loud as she writes.

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