Jennifer Crusie's Blog, page 59

Happiness is a Second Look

As I have whined to you all before, so far 2023 has kicked me in the teeth, or at least it felt that way. I’m handling it, my teeth are loose but not lost, and one of the ways I’ve been handling it is working my way through Rosalind James’s New Zealand rugby romances. Full disclosure: I know zip about New Zealand (yes, I was there once, for a couple of days of romance conference and book tour which means I saw most of it through a car window and met most people signing books; it was beautiful and the people were wonderful, but I still know zip) and even less about rugby (I grew up in Ohio and went to school just south of the Canadian border, I know football and hockey, that’s it). James’s books are gentle, based on family and even the rugby stuff is about teamwork, plus she’s a good writer, so that makes her good recovery reading. Also, I have some major rewrites coming up there and it’s good to read somebody new that you like to see how they do things. Think of it as a second look at romance writing. Times changed, what’s happened?

At the same time that I’m starting to think about taking a second look at my writing, I’m suddenly in a place where I’m taking a second look at my life. Nothing major happened, I’m not dying, everybody I love is fine, I’m just having to look again, see things differently, and since the second looks are coming all at once, in several important areas of my life, I was, uh, freaking out. Full disclosure: I’m still freaking out a little.

But Bob’s talking me down, so I’ve been taking a second look at that partnership and realizing we’ve both changed, that even though our relationship is a business one, we’re also partners this time in a way we weren’t before. Older, wiser, more open to each other’s ideas, more communicative.I’ve always looked at Bob as somebody who rescues me when I hit a plotting wall, but after the last couple of months, looking back at some of the conversations we’ve had, I’m not thinking of him as a rescuer anymore, not thinking of him as somebody I yell for in emergencies, but just as the other half of our collaboration.

And I’ve started e-mailing with another old friend, Pat Gaffney, who is giving me incredible support on another of my Huge Life Changes, making me take a second look, not just at our friendship (as in “Why the hell haven’t we been e-mailing weekly for the past ten years?” but also at her importance in my life forever, non-judgemental, eager to help, irreverant and funny as hell, and just a damn good person.

And of course, there’s Krissie, who is always there for me. She’s had a tough winter, too, but if I need help, she’s there. Always there. The kind of friend you bind to you with hoops of steel, not because she always bails you out but because you’re sisters and you fit and life is better because you’re in this world together.

And then there’s Mollie, who is always there, too, who grounds me and makes me remember that I need people in my life, and who is pretty much the most important person in my life. That mother/daughter thing isn’t easy, but we’ve got it down pretty well now.

I’m not a people person. I tend to bury myself alone in the country, shut my door and not go out for days. And yet, I’ve got this tribe, this family I made inadvertently, and the stress of this year has made me look at them all again and realize that they’re a constant. Always there. (This is not a comment on my real family, whom I love and respect and treasure: My brother and his wife and kids who are adults now but still kids to me, my cousin and his wife and kid, who’s the mother of two now, which is why Russ now lives in Ireland, too far away. My daughter and my son-in-law who is a gem and their three fascinating kids, who are still kids, thank god. These are good, good people.)

So in the middle of all of this, I’m reading James’s rugby romances, which are full of Maori sayings and lovely bits about the different cultures, and at one point, one of the characters talks about something her grandmother told her:

“We are only visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, and then we return home.”

I’ve spent the past thirty years digging myself in to stability, prioritizing safety above everything else, and the last ten years really digging in, not taking chances. But I kept coming back to that line as my world did a semi-implosion around me: Maybe I’m just passing through here. (Maybe? C’mon, Jenny.) Maybe trying to be safe is like trying to hold water in your hands, not just futile but missing the point. I’ve spent decades observing and learning, but the whole growth thing has eluded me because I was keeping myself safe. Maybe I needed to, but that’s missing the point. The point to take that second look, observe the reality or the closest facsimile thereof, let it pass through your fingers, and enjoy the moment. There is no one right answer. There is no one right path. Look at every with new eyes, and remember that the moment is not in the future, the moment is now, as it passes through my fingers.

Happiness, I have just discovered, is looking at everything again, breaking the emergency glass that keeps me safe and reaching for the moment, whatever the hell it is. All of a sudden, I see big changes ahead and I’m excited about them.

What moments that you reached for made you happy this week?

This is a Good Book Thursday, March 2, 2023

I’ve been reading a lot of rugby romances by Rosalind James that are set in New Zealand. It’s like hockey without ice. In New Zealand, which is one of the loveliest places I’ve ever been. Very soothing.

What did you read this week?

Working Wednesday, March 1, 2023

I’m working. I’m shoveling snow, bathing dogs, sorting through clothes, changing sheets, throwing out half the house . . . the usual. Also getting back into Rocky Start after two weeks of being sick as a dog, so I’m trying to be extra cooperative since I just dumped everything on Bob during that time. Turns out “extra cooperative” makes Bob extra nervous. I should have done this years ago.

What did you work on this week?

Happenss is a Hint of Spring

Okay, it’s not exactly warm here up north, but things are shifting, we’re not getting a lot of freezing temperatures and . . . basically I’m short on things to be happy about so I grabbed that one.

Give me some good stuff, people: What made you happy this week?

This is a Good Book Thursday, February 23, 2023

This week, I read a lot of Book Bub samples. Just the samples. Nothing tempted me onward. I think I’m just getting too picky in my old age. I did fall down the rabbit hole that is “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” on You Tube, and then I went on to “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” “Kiss the Girl,” and Robin Williams being fabulous all over the place as the Genie. Turns out, Disney is musical Wellbutrin.

So what did you read this week?

Working Wednesday, February 22, 2023

We’re moving from scene sequences to acts (me) and to single ms. (Bob). I think Bob is also on his way to the Outer Banks, which is good because I’m still at about 50% after weekend before last. But still work is getting done.

What did you do this week?

Happiness is Finally Making a Big Decision

Well, so far February has sucked, but one good thing: It’s forced me to make a big decision I’ve been putting off, and now that that’s decided, everything is so much simpler. Simple is good. From now on, I’m with Nike: I’ll just do it.

What made you happy this week?

This is a Good Book Thursday, February 16, 2023

I read nothing this week except for some websites; not riveting reading.

What’s good that you read?

Working Wednesday, the Late Edition, February 15, 2023

I was sick all weekend, like contemplating the ER sick, and then slept through Monday and Tuesday, so I didn’t notice it was Wednesday until, uh, now (7:31 PM). I apologize.

So I mostly cried and threw up this week. What did you do?

Happiness is . . . I got nothing.

Somebody else pick up the ball today, please.

What made you happy this week? All I’ve is a great brownie that I didn’t have to bake.