Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 13

Olio

It’s National Poetry Month and I’m writing a poem a day until the end of April. Some days I feel like I don’t have anything to say but spring always promises and delivers birds, blossoms, and beauty in unexpected places so there’s plenty of inspiration to be found outdoors. This morning I shared my writing process with students at Messiah University; their professor asked me to demonstrate how to learn from the poems in OLIO by Tyehimba Jess and I found unexpected inspiration for my experimental verse novel OLA’S DREAM. It’s been on hold since last spring; with the pandemic, I couldn’t sustain the focus I needed to do historical research. I didn’t manage to finish a sample poem for the students but I made a start and look forward to the second class I’ll meet on Thursday. The reading that evening is open to the public so join us if you can. Next week I will deliver the 2nd Augusta Baker Lecture at the University of South Carolina; it’s virtual and open to the public as well. If you’re working with younger children, Poetry Boost is spotlighting a different poet every day this month (my poem is here) and MacKids also has a video of me reading A PLACE INSIDE OF ME.

I made it five days without sweets—not bad and the cravings weren’t too hard to manage. I’m letting myself have a sweet today and tomorrow (discounted Reese’s peanut butter Easter eggs) and then I’ll try another five-day detox. That seems sustainable. I had my blood drawn yesterday and the results were mostly encouraging: my iron is normal again, my A1c went down four points, but my cholesterol crept up again. Will see if cutting back on sweets helps at all; I’m mostly vegetarian so suspect the slightly high cholesterol is a genetic inheritance I’ll have to learn to live with. I’m still working on getting vaccinated and generally don’t feel ready to rejoin the world. I backed out of my in-person art class and being in the city last week was jarring—I’m used to Evanston’s mostly empty streets and suddenly folks were everywhere, eating on the sidewalk and flowing in and out of Millennium Park. It will take time to get used to the new normal, I guess, but for now I’m content to stay at home dreaming about the future. I got pre-approved again but haven’t seen anything I love enough to take the plunge and become a homeowner here in Chicagoland. Today I got the final cover for THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE and it’s beautiful! I was given the chance to provide feedback over the past few weeks and Geneva B really came through—can’t wait to share her amazing artwork. It was good to have proof of a successful collaboration because yesterday I had a less than productive conversation about the treatment for what we hope will be a DRAGONS IN A BAG animated film. I spoke to the screenwriter last month and knew he was taking the characters in a different direction but I wasn’t prepared for my beloved book to be completely reworked. It’s unrecognizable at this point so I’m trying to find a way forward. My horoscope for 2021 said I would have to focus on creativity, collaboration, and children, so I’m trying to see this as an opportunity to grow and learn. And I’m willing to compromise—often when films try to stay loyal to the book, they don’t quite work. But I won’t betray my readers or my vision for the *series*—it’s not just one book I’m protecting! I think I’m going to write my own treatment so there’s an alternative on the table. After I prep for Thursday’s class and reading and write my lecture for next week…

detox

I’m going to give up sweets for the month of April! I thoroughly enjoyed my tea party last week and truly felt like I’d earned it after meeting three deadlines in five days. But I need to find a reward that doesn’t involve sugar…I priced trips to Glasgow and Copenhagen over the weekend, thinking that might make a nice birthday gift. But right now there are lengthy quarantine requirements in place and I only want to visit for three or four days. It’s hard to make plans during a pandemic and we’re not out of it yet; Illinois is opening up vaccinations to folks with underlying conditions but I don’t think this Black, middle-aged asthmatic will be vaccinated until May or June. The rollout is happening but not as quickly as we’d like and the variants are ensuring that the virus continues to spread. I don’t mind keeping up with my quarantine precautions. I’ve been keeping my own company for so long that the thought of being around other people makes me anxious. I’ve lived off-peak for years, mind you, and doubt that will ever change; I went into the pandemic knowing how to avoid crowds and don’t miss attending concerts or sporting events. I’m heading into the city tomorrow for an appointment and might just wander around for a while. And the following week my in-person art class starts—I mostly feel excited about that. I’ve done better at building space into my schedule and want to add just one or two new things to my routine. My hot flashes have diminished thankfully but now mood swings are kicking in…some days it feels like I’m revisiting puberty, which was bad enough the first time around! At least now I’m able to be kinder to myself but there are also days when I simply avoid the mirror. I try not to say anything to myself that I wouldn’t say to my teenage nieces…and I’ve learned not to cut my hair when I’m feeling blue. If there’s anything this pandemic has taught us, it’s to be generous and compassionate toward others and ourselves. Not easy but always worthwhile.

all that glitters

I’ve always had a magpie eye. Anything sparkly or delicate would catch my eye and I would (mostly) resist the urge to squirrel the item away in my room. I did once steal a piece of glass that dangled from my friend’s lamp; if I held it up to the light, I could see a rainbow and at the age of seven, nothing seemed more magical than that. Now, as an adult, I have a lamp covered in tiny crystals and it brings me just as much joy. Yesterday was the memorial for my cousin and I wore the Swarovski crystal earrings she gave me. I haven’t attended very many funerals in person and wasn’t sure how it would work via Zoom, but the memorial service was lovely—a gentle flow of recorded and live testimonials with music Laura loved and countless photos of her throughout her life. There were prayers and poetry, tears but laughter, too. I signed off feeling a little blue and hastily wrote a rather miserable poem before jumping on another Zoom with my friend Stef. We talked about the technical side of death—do you have a will? who’s listed as the beneficiary on your accounts?—but we also talked about legacy and how we’d like to be remembered. We wrapped up ninety minutes later by answering these questions asked of artists by the New York Times:

Did you make anything that mattered?Who and what comforted you?Which moments will you remember?Which ideas would you like to forget?What would a do-over look like?And what’s still on your to-do list as “normal” comes into focus?”

I read another article last month that reported how authors were struggling to write during the pandemic. Fortunately, that hasn’t been a problem for me and I can’t imagine surviving the long months of quarantine without having a way to channel and/or avoid my emotions. My imagination is activated in moments of crisis and so I’ve had a productive pandemic. Memorable moments? The many birds I lured to my deck and window by putting out food. Moving to Evanston in August. Passing my citizenship test on Tuesday! My interviewer was kind and everyone at the processing center was helpful and pleasant—very different from my experience years ago at the crowded, chaotic center in Manhattan. The swearing-in ceremony is delayed due to the spacing requirements in the auditorium, but I get the feeling it won’t be long. Of course, I’m already looking at package vacations for the fall…maybe Copenhagen for my birthday and Lapland for Xmas so I can see the Northern Lights. So much as been put on hold for so long that everything suddenly feels urgent. I think I’ll be vaccinated by the summer and hopefully Europe will get its act together and open up safely for the fall.

Last week my arrived from Russia—a miniature circus stage and an even smaller theater. I don’t have a dollhouse, but I love tiny things and today I’m hoping to start my fairy story. It’s been on hold for weeks but on Friday I turned in my last poem for Moonwalking and that means I have two mostly open weeks without a single deadline looming over me. I signed up for a drawing and watercolor class at the local art center so for eight weeks starting in April I’ll have a chunk of time devoted to my own development as an artist. Every time I hear a COVID-related death announced on the news, I wait to hear the person’s age. Every life lost should be mourned but it’s particularly sad when someone dies young. I don’t want to feel as if I’ve squandered my potential by being too afraid to try new things. And I don’t want a few poems and stories to be my legacy. What else will I leave behind? Many moments in our lives aren’t photographed and will never be archived. So what will the record show? Does it matter? I’m reading a book called How to Do Nothing and it’s partly about how the “attention economy” has made us try to wring value out of every minute of our day…I don’t want to walk anywhere unless I’ve got my pedometer on and I’m getting “credit” for it through some app. But everything doesn’t have to be measured and monetized. Sometimes the doing of a thing is its own reward. Going to try to keep that in mind as I ease into these two less hectic weeks.

seeking “spaciousness”

A poet friend told me last month that she was carving out more room in her life for writing—“spaciousness” was the term she used and it immediately resonated with me. I know most people would look at my calendar and think I have plenty of time to myself; I started March with 8 gigs and now I’m up to 10, which is my limit. Really—I mean it. I’ve got two Zoom-free days this weekend and it’s such a delicious feeling to wake without any anxiety about what’s to come. This week I have a few gigs and my citizenship test on Tuesday, but the following week is wide open and just knowing that that’s ahead of me does something to my brain. I had some sad news at the start of this week; my cousin, who struggled with severe depression for decades, took her own life. Her death has made me more assertive this week. I reached out to a friend and said what I should have said when she first made her request for my involvement in a new art project: I can’t. Instead of losing myself in some drama on Netflix, I left the TV off and just wrote all week—two poems for Laura and a few new poems for the novel-in-progress that just will not end. After trying to be patient and diplomatic I finally met with my editor and then wrote down all the issues I think we need to resolve. Not sure that actually helped, but I felt better getting it off my chest. My professor once said that suicide was the ultimate act of self-determination. When a friend from college took her own life, I didn’t see it that way; I was angry at her family and all the people in her social circle who clearly didn’t give her the help she needed. But when a middle-aged adult makes a plan to end their life…it’s different somehow. Now I feel resigned if not accepting. I’ve never experienced that kind of hopelessness but I know my cousin tried every possible therapy. She tried, she fought, and she was so brave for such a long time. I’m just glad she’s not hurting anymore. I can’t travel due to the COVID restrictions so will find other ways to mourn by myself and with my family in Canada. I found some photos of happier days and polished the silver dragonfly earrings Laura gave me years ago. I’m not sure I’ve ever worn them but I definitely wear the dragonfly scarf she gifted me. Most importantly she gave me permission to cry. As awful as the past year has been, I hadn’t been able to really break down until the day after my cousin died. I was talking to her sister on Zoom and when it was time to end the call and say goodbye, I just lost it. I didn’t want to be present when my father passed away; it didn’t feel necessary since I had already said goodbye to him in my own way. I never had a chance to say goodbye to Laura, and I imagine that’s true for so many people who have lost a loved one to COVID. So her death has also made me more sympathetic and understanding of others’ pain, and I’m thankful for that.

Right now the apartment is quiet and full of late-day light. I have a couple more poems to write for this darn book and might have enough room this weekend to actually get them done. I feel so grateful for my life and I feel fortunate that I’ve been able to manage my own mental health with the support of others. My cousin told me that she found a cache of my books among Laura’s things—gifts she hadn’t gotten around to giving. I found out yesterday that Dragons in a Bag has been selected for the 2021 Global Read Aloud and I know Laura would have been happy for me. Let your loved ones know how you feel while you can. Life can be precarious so make the most of the moments you have.

buzz

PBS is the crutch that’s helping me limp along to the end of this month. Today I’m rewatching The Black Church with Skip Gates and I thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Soul! I had nine presentations last week; I only had three this week but there were lots of meetings and deadlines to fill up my days. I’ve met two so there’s just one left. I’m hoping I can crank out four more poems this weekend. I took two lakefront walks with friends and that lifted my spirits because the sun’s been out almost every day and temperatures feel quite balmy. The birds seem to know that spring is coming and I feel optimistic overall. Things slow down in March and I’ve left myself more time to write in April and May. I spent more time than usual on social media this week because my books have gotten a bit of buzz lately. An episode of Drag Queen Story Hour, hosted by the fabulous Black Benatar, featured A PLACE INSIDE OF ME, read expertly by my librarian friend Satia Orange. You can watch that amazing episode here. We learned that that book and SAY HER NAME were selected for the Cooperative Children’s Book Center’s 2021 Choices List. SAY HER NAME is also a finalist for the 2021 Audies—an award for audiobooks—and it was named a “Best Bet” by the Ontario Library Association. You can tell it’s Black History Month because I’m getting a lot of attention north of the border: I was featured in this newsletter of the Canadian Children’s Book Centre and CBC Books interviewed me as well.

I had another ultrasound on Wednesday and the reassuring results were posted online this morning. It feels like I’m clearing out a closet that’s been too cluttered for too long. Once I make space, I’ll have room for…more clutter? No. My friend Purvi told me she’s been dreaming about spaciousness. I could use a little of that. But it doesn’t fall from the sky; you have to be deliberate about making room in your life for unknown quantities. I feel ready to switch off auto-pilot and try something new. Last week I delivered a keynote and found myself digging through old photographs, trying to trace the origins of my love of poetry. The next night I had to give a reading—my first time reading my own poetry for 45 minutes! I worried I wouldn’t have enough poems but wound up having too many, and instead of being embarrassed by some of the oldest ones, I felt a little bit proud. Today I would be too ashamed to submit those poems for publication but back then, I guess I was bolder, more open. I have another keynote coming up in April: “‘Sometimes the Axe Is the Cure’: Poetry as Balm and Blade in the Black Lives Matter Era.” I have a second reading that month as well—a chance to curate a new set of poems. And April is National Poetry Month so I’ll be writing a poem a day, generating new material. A friend asked me to record a short video for her upcoming virtual tea party—all the guests are being asked to wear a fancy hat and red lipstick. I have neither, of course, so ordered a cute little hat and just need to buy some lipstick. I’m already thinking about what I want to say and which of my mother’s fancy teacups I’ll use. It’s nice to have something to look forward to! I’d like to start planning a trip for my birthday but will it be safe to travel in October? Will I be vaccinated by then? Who knows. Maybe instead of going back to London I’ll try Copenhagen this time. My friend invited me to do a three-week meditation challenge about attracting abundance. There was too much emphasis on money but I liked the prompts that made me think about clutter—the emotional baggage we all carry that prevents our hands from grabbing hold of something new. It was nice to realize that some of the things that used to hurt a lot don’t bother me as much anymore. Our bodies can heal and so can our hearts. Time to grow…

Honoring Black History: ROOTS RUN DEEP

I only lived in Lancaster for a year but in that time I managed to connect with a few schools and community organizations. The pandemic limited what I could do in my last months in PA but when ROOTS RUN DEEP was finally ready, I sent a copy to Valerie Pritchett at ABC27. She featured me for the station’s 2020 Black History Month special and she’s kindly done it again for 2021. You can see the interview here.

It’s snowing—again!—but I made it to the post office and my new snow pants arrived just an hour ago. We’ve had a fairly mild winter so far so I can’t really complain about February’s subzero temps and nonstop snow. The winter blues often set in at this time of year but I’ve managed to keep them at bay with plenty of walks. All of these Zoom presentations are exhausting but I find that a walk outside helps me recover. I had an evening presentation at CalArts last week so couldn’t walk afterward; I settled for a few hours of silence. This coming week is winter break for many schools; I’ll be teaching a fantasy fiction micro class for Uptown Stories (if you want to register your child, just check the NYC resident box). I’ve also got a book club meeting and a poetry workshop at this library followed by an event on Saturday for the African American Read-In. On Friday I’ll deliver the keynote for this conference at West Chester University; my talk is titled “I Am Not a Poet: Mentors, Mantras, and the Door We Must Open” and the following night I’ll be giving a reading followed by an open mic. You can register for the conference here. Tomorrow I present for students in Japan so I’m making the most of this quiet, snowy afternoon. Just finished watching The Dig on Netflix—very soothing. It’s always good to think about what we’ve built in our lifetimes and what we’ll leave behind for others to uncover…

rest

I stopped napping over a year ago but my afternoon naps are making a comeback in 2021. My weeks feel so full and that’s partly my fault—I’m still saying “yes” to too many requests—but it’s also Black History Month, and I thought I’d have time to teach and give keynotes and visit schools virtually because my deadlines were LAST month. I met all three but, of course, that doesn’t mean I’m done; my editors circle back needing more poems, more revisions, more more. By the time I reach 3pm, I’m out of steam. If I curl up with a book to read for an hour, I invariably fall asleep after twenty minutes. I’m keeping up with my daily steps and the treadmill and my vitamins, yet I still feel bone tired some days. But this week, after all my Zooms, I took a moment to celebrate myself with High Tea at Home prepared by a local French cafe, Patisserie Coralie. I got a box for myself and a box for my nearby friend and we toasted each other over FaceTime. Not the same as a leisurely three-hour tea off a three-tier tray in a swanky hotel, but it was still nice. I’m very grateful for my friends! This week I’ve felt myself withdrawing, getting cranky each time I’m asked to do some small thing. I did my first IG Live event on Wednesday for World Read Aloud Day. I was nervous and wasn’t sure I could read a picture book using my phone but Gayatri (Desi Book Aunty) made everything easy and was so calm and affirming during our chat…when it was over, I immediately turned my phone’s camera back on and filmed another read aloud for a bookstore in CA. I’d been fussing about that but doing the first run with Gayatri made me feel more confident about doing the second book. Scratched that off my To Do list and then sat down for another online meeting with a pre-service teacher in TN. She asked such excellent questions about literacy and community-based publishing that I felt truly hopeful about the next generation of readers and writers. Yesterday I led a poetry workshop for middle grade students in Brooklyn participating in the Black Lives Matter at School Week, and this morning I did story time for the Hospital for Sick Kids in Toronto. I started this week by surprising a class of 3rd graders in Toronto who read and loved DRAGONS IN A BAG. Tomorrow I’m looking forward to a conversation about Black joy, which is part of the Capricorn SFF conference here in Chicago; everything is virtual so feel free to register and join us. I have nothing scheduled for Sunday and I’m not booking anything more for April or May. Folks keep asking what I’m working on and I *do* have several projects that are patiently waiting for my attention. But those stories will have to wait a while long because right now–it’s nap time! Enjoy your weekend.

dizzy

It’s still snowing here in Evanston. I went out earlier today to deliver a birthday gift to Cozbi. She’s still reeling from winning *four* awards yesterday for her two beautiful books EXQUISITE and ME & MAMA! Award days can be difficult and I usually skip the ceremony and avoid social media for a while. Often the same few people win the same few awards, year after year, but when someone so deserving finally has their work recognized—you can’t help but celebrate with and for them. Cozbi is truly one of the most generous people I know (on top of being a phenomenal artist) so it was thrilling to hear her name called again and again. I found out Sunday night that Noa Denmon won the Caldecott Honor Award for her incredible illustrations in A PLACE INSIDE OF ME and couldn’t stop laughing and grinning…I was proud of her but I also felt vindicated. In part because I predicted she would win that exact award back in April, and partly because it felt like a big middle finger to the major review outlets that chose to ignore our book. A friend’s book got SIX starred reviews but he was entirely shut out of the Youth Media Awards; our book got just two reviews and zero stars, but Noa won the Caldecott. So now we have a lovely silver sticker for the cover and we’ll be printing and selling a lot more books. I spent half of yesterday trying to stay on top of my Twitter account; that’s how I found out that was a nominee for the YALSA Nonfiction Award. On Facebook a librarian friend told me that my poetry book was also on the Rise list, which features feminist books for readers age 0-18. This morning a poet friend messaged me to ask if my publisher had submitted SAY HER NAME to a PA poetry prize…they hadn’t and it looks like we’ve missed the deadline. Sigh. Awards are exciting and can be fun but most books don’t get shiny stickers and even if we blow through this third printing of 40K books, my dragon books will still outsell A PLACE INSIDE OF ME and they haven’t won any awards. Does that mean they’re no good? Of course not. Do kids like the books that win the most awards? Not always. And to even be considered for an award, you have to be able to get published yet the industry continues to exclude most BIPOC kid lit creators. I’m doing a dozen virtual events in the coming weeks and THAT is what really matters—connecting with kids and families and schools. I’m getting one or two requests every day so will have to start turning folks away but a student this morning asked if I had met my goal as a writer, and I have. I write for a living, I spend (part of) my days dreaming, and I’m telling the stories I want to tell. No awards for me this year but I’m happy for my friends, grateful for my own blessings, and ready to keep on fighting for equity in this industry.

herself

On Saturday morning I watched Herself and when it ended, I did an online search for “how to move to Scotland.” The film is set in Ireland, but it motivated me to work on my five-year plan. Over the holidays I scribbled a few statements down, all starting with “What if…?” But yesterday I made actual statements: “By 2026, I will have a home abroad.” I don’t have many goals, just half a dozen right now, but having clear goals makes it easier to complete specific actions that will set me on the right path. Over the weekend I heard from USCIS; since I applied early in 2020, I won’t have to take the new civics test (phew). I should be getting my interview appointment letter in the mail, so it seems that moving to IL definitely sped things up. My ultimate goal is to have a home in more than one country. I’ve felt that way for some time now, but I’m sure more people are looking abroad after the failed coup that took place last week. Watching Herself was difficult at times because the main character is in an abusive relationship. Her eldest daughter runs for help when Sandra’s husband tries to kill her, but the youngest daughter Molly witnesses the assault. The rest of the film follows Sandra as she searches for a secure home for herself and her girls, and everything hinges on random acts of kindness. It’s a really powerful film and I don’t want to give anything away, but the ending summed up how I often feel about the US. At one point, Sandra’s daughter hands her a photograph taken during happier days and Sandra bursts into tears because she misses the man she fell in love with but knows she can’t go back to him. But was he EVER a better man? Wasn’t he always the kind of person who needed to control and terrorize others? His mother sort of confirms that in the end, but by that point it’s too late. I feel like that kind of psychological conflict mirrors the experience of African Americans. We love this country and it claims to love us but there’s little evidence of that…just cycles of brutality and broken promises. Yet we keep hoping things will get better. We WORK to make things better. Georgia voters—organized mainly by Black women—turned the state blue. And within hours, the Capitol was besieged by White nationalists. One step forward, two steps back…

I’m focusing on moving forward. During my walk with a friend today I thought of something another friend once said: “It’s time to BUILD. Not just do, build.” It’s so easy to get caught up with all the things that need to get done. I have no Zooms this week but my days seem to slip away so quickly as I scratch things off my To Do list. I met one deadline yesterday but missed another last week so now will return to that project before starting on Book #3, which is due on the 25th. I could do this indefinitely, I suppose. Write, submit, revise. Write something new, submit, revise. The paperback edition of THE DRAGON THIEF goes on sale today, and I’m happy because it’s much more affordable. I’m supposed to be doing a bunch of bookstore events to promote the paperback, but I haven’t heard from my publicist and I’m not going to press her. I’m going to use this week to think about the foundation I’ve laid so far and what I need to do next to build another life. I hope I’ll always be able to write for a living but if I didn’t have to hustle so hard, what would I do with that time and energy? I signed up for a friend’s vision board workshop this weekend so that will hopefully help me to picture my 2026 life. I’m considering an online Spanish class that starts next weekend—not helpful if I do wind up living part-time in Scotland, but another language might open other doors. That’s the point of life, right? And when certain doors don’t open, you take the tools you’ve gathered over the years and build your own home/school/press/theater…

clearing my plate

2020 is on its way out and I’m trying to clear my plate. I had hoped to publish this picture book back in February but the illustrator wasn’t done and then the pandemic changed everything…then I moved to IL and now I’m waiting on the final proof so I can finally hit “publish.” It’s an imperfect book—I gave up on my original vision a long time ago and now it just needs to land in the hands of kids in Central PA. I found myself thinking about my own childhood and introduction to Black history; when I was six or seven, my father led a summer camp to teach kids about our African heritage. I don’t remember learning anything about Black Canadian history, but we met at a school in downtown Toronto and made papier-mâché African masks and we watched Roots on VHS. I tried to leave the room before Levar Burton was whipped but my father dragged me back in. There was a playground nearby that had orange tube slides…the cover of this new book makes me think about the 1970s and the colors of my childhood. Gracie’s art is far more sophisticated than anything I could produce as a child, but it still reminds me of that summer camp and our attempts to connect with something new and important but also remote. That’s how 2021 feels right now—new, important, but remote. I attempted a five-year plan and once again fell short…the one-year plan was a bit better but compared to previous years, it looks a bit thin. It’s hard to plan when we don’t know what the future holds. The vaccine is here but won’t be widely available for several more months. My plan for 2020 started with a long list of work-related travel—not this year, and hopefully never again. Maybe we’ll be able to fly safely by September, maybe not. I don’t miss my hectic travel schedule and intend to earn a living from royalties and advances going forward. That means I have to finish projects—I’ve got 3 books due in January—and then I need to pay attention to the partial manuscripts that have already garnered interest from editors. Then what? It was interesting to watch Soul over the weekend. A Black jazz pianist finally gets his big break but dies before he can take the stage; looking back at his life, he realizes it was quite empty and finally performing on stage as part of a famous quartet doesn’t leave him feeling fulfilled. I listened to a podcast yesterday about how humans synthesize experiences in order to keep moving on—the things we think will destroy us, actually don’t. But the things we expect to make us happy might not be as satisfying as expected. Either way, we fold good and bad things into our lives until they lose significance over time. If that’s true, what *really* matters? The expert on the podcast felt that renewal was key—you never fully arrive at a place of professional or personal satisfaction, but we all have the capacity to keep searching. Sounds exhausting! But it’s also a relief because it means you don’t have to have everything figured out by the time you reach ____. Your whole life can be devoted to setting goals and searching for purpose, and experiencing failure or disappointment won’t change that. You just pick yourself up and keep trying different approaches, experiences, paths. Works for me! I’m thinking more about my next professional shift. Professor to author to…?

I hope you found some peace and joy over the holidays…here’s to a MUCH better 2021!