The dedication in my memoir reads: to my mother, and to all single mothers, who are doing the very best they can.
In my book I wrote, in part, about the challenges I faced going through an unexpected divorce and how many of those experiences helped me appreciate what my own mother went through as a single mom.
I heard the word “springboard” the other day and it made me flashback to the summer I was nine years old and went off the high dive for the first time at the community pool.
Except that I didn’t. What really happened was pure humiliation: I climbed the long ladder for what felt like ages, shuffled to the edge of the diving board, looked down, and froze. Uh-uh. There was no way I was jumping. With shaking knees, I backed up and started down the ladder, which was a slow process because I had to wait for all the kids behind me to back up too. And then I went home.
As I sit at my desk in Chicago, it seems surreal that less than twenty-four hours ago I was on a Florida beach with a rainbow stretched over my head. Actually, it was the second rainbow to grace me in three days, but when it comes to rainbows, you don’t count them, you simply stop what you’re doing and stare.
A rainbow moment is a right-brain moment, a burst of color and creativity from a higher realm.
Today I feel like writing about mistakes. Heck, I’m even open to making some. Not that I haven’t already made my fair share. From the workplace to the home front, as a parent, wife, or friend, my mistakes sometimes include big life moments and, other times, small sweaty details.
What’s the secret to writing a scene that works? You may not know how to name it, but you certainly know when you read something that’s just meh, so-so. What’s missing? And what would it take to fix it? You might think good writing requires a mysterious balance of action, dialogue, setting, symbolism, and so on, and those things are all important. But there’s one fundamental ingredient that trumps all the craft in the world.
On this cold and dreary winter day, I’m feeling warm fuzzies thinking about all the beautifully creative people in my life (yes, that includes you!). I love watching others express their unique visions and there’s nothing I enjoy more than seeing the seed of an idea take root and sprout into something tangible.
I also know that, sometimes, it’s hard to believe that our creative efforts will bear fruit. Projects can begin to look like the view out my back window: frozen, lifeless, dull.
My sister and her teenage son were visiting from Colorado. We were walking back from the coffee shop near my house when I looked down and there it was—a hundred-dollar bill, waiting patiently on the pavement for me to leisurely bend over and pick it up. The two of them hadn’t seen it and they were astonished and envious that I had.
The extra cash was just what I needed. It allowed me to take us all out to dinner and buy some birthday gifts for my nephew.
This week the word perseverance has been scratching at me, wanting to be written about. It’s pestered me with all the doggedness you would expect from it. So here I am, struggling to come up with an opening story to illustrate what it means to persevere and why it interests me.
I don’t have a story. But that in itself is perfect. Because the essence of perseverance isn’t in the moment of triumph, realization, or reward. It’s not about the outcome. It is, by definition, the steady persistence in a course of action—and here’s the best part—in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
I was driving in the car with my 16-year-old son when I realized I had nothing to write about this week.
“I have no ideas for my blog,” I told him. “I’m drawing a complete blank.”
“Why don’t you write about the movie you went to?” he said, referring to Bohemian Rhapsody. “You liked that.”
If you’ve ever been laid low by illness or injury, you know how frustrating it is to lie there thinking of all the things you should be doing. You plan how you’ll “catch up.” You make a lot of promises to yourself. Once I feel better, I’ll exercise. I’ll cook more. I’ll go to the beach and sit in the sand. And I’ll balance that with being super productive. I’ll write every day. I’ll do the dishes!
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions