Slip n' slide
I’ve been absent from Substack for longer than I intended. I wrote you an entire post about why that happened and where I’ve been, and blah, blah, blah, unexpected tooth extraction, crushing depression. You know, the usual song and dance. But this morning I woke up thinking about a question that was posed to a group of us at a recent gathering: “what would your eight-year-old self think about the life you are living now?”
Among all that blah, blahing, I turned fifty back in May. From a societal standpoint, there’s a lot to unpack about turning fifty, especially for a woman. Yet, it was just another day, and I crossed that threshold without much fanfare (as I prefer it). I didn’t build an internal effigy to my youth and burn it down. Didn’t wallow on my decisions that led me to this point in my life. To be honest I can go down that rabbithole any regular old day. I attempted to skim through my birthday portal like the Gen-Xer I am, skilled at navigating life’s slip n’ slides. And the universe delivered a resounding head slap when less than a week later I broke a wisdom tooth and had to have it extracted.
Last week, Dave and I escaped for a short break to New Mexico. The area we visited has a history of attracting writers. In fact, Aldous Huxley lived at the farm where we stayed and built several of the outbuildings. In a flush of optimism, I brought along my laptop assuming I would be inspired to dig back into the book. But it was not to be. Instead, I engaged in long periods of daydreaming.
During prime covid, I spent five weeks at an artist residence. Although there was a community living on the retreat property, we were in that stage of the virus where for the first two weeks, I couldn’t have direct contact with other people. While I was there, I finished my first round of revisions on Voyage of the Pleiades and sent it to my editor. The beginnings of Garden of Shadows were assembling in my mind. With so much alone time, I learned that lying beneath the towering ponderosa pines and watching the clouds rolling by was an essential element to my creative process. By myself, in nature, with infinite space to allow my imagination to roam. It wasn't something new, I’d engaged in this activity regularly as a kid. But as I moved toward adulthood and the perpetual motion of life, it fell away.
Which brings me back to the question of what eight-year-old Amy would think of me today. Contemplating my answer has given me some much-needed perspective. She would’ve ignored the regrets, the struggles, the financial wobbles, and focused on the fact that she did make her dream of becoming a writer happen. Maybe it was later in life than she would’ve expected, but here I am. And here’s hoping that this insight will help to kick my editing into gear, so I can get Where the Clouds Gather to you this year as planned.
A few other notes before I leave you. Our documentary on the eclipse was nominated for a Central Great Lakes Emmy. The award ceremony is on June 27, so please keep your fingers crossed for us. Here is the link if you haven’t seen it yet.
Also, Fauve Press is publishing a gorgeous book at the end of June, and I’ve been the lead on the final push to get it out into the world. I’m proud to say that not only is Shelly a friend, but a supremely gifted writer. Knowin’ Sugar is appropriate for middle grade to adult, and is a lyrical, rich, coming of age story that really is for everyone. It’s on sale for pre-order now, releasing on June 23!