Jo Knowles's Blog, page 5

Who do you write for?

The past four days have been nonstop smiling, hugging, note-taking, speech-giving, workshop attending, bad-food binging, wine drinking, late night talking, friend-making, lack-of-sleeping awesomeness.

Usually I document absolutely everything with photos but somehow I got almost none! So I will have to try very hard to plant these memories firmly in my heart. I don't think it will be hard.

Thursday started with dinner in Stowe, VT (which I'd somehow never been to) at an amazing restaurant called The Phoenix with members of the DCF committee. I had the best veggie burger I've ever eaten and met some fascinating people. Great conversation about books and art and kids and nature. Wow.

I was also given the news that the keynote speaker for the conference had a flight cancellation so I would be the keynote speaker instead. *gulp* But I must admit it was the most uplifting, rewarding experience. I've never felt so truly connected to an audience as I did that morning. I talked about books that change us, books that save us, and the role teachers and librarians have in connecting that special book to that child in need. I was that child. And I am so grateful I had the opportunity to talk to a roomful of teachers and librarians who are the ones who bridge the reader and book. It was a real gift to be able to thank them, and encourage them.

Here is a photo of me with Grace Greene as the audience gave my first ever standing ovation. What a moment. I don't think our faces are reflecting the awe and gratitude I was feeling. But it may just be because my friend Cindy was trying to take the photo with my phone :-)



Thank you Grace, for inviting me to speak at this special conference. It was an honor.

Directly after that talk, I was in a break-out session to keep the discussion going and it was both intimate and eye-opening. There may have been some tears. What a wonderful audience.

After that, we had lunch and then it was time to listen to Gary Schmidt! I love his books so much and his talk was very powerful. I'm really glad I got to be there to hear it!

I signed lots and lots of books, which is always a thrill. One woman couldn't decide who to have me sign her book to. Martha finally won. :-)



Then, it was time to head to Springfield, MA for the NESCBWI conference. Cindy Faughnan and I drove through the mountains, coming upon rainbow after rainbow. It was the perfect way to close a magical day.



We met Tamra Smith and Sharon Darrow in Hartland, VT and continued our journey to Springfield. Sadly we were so late I missed the faculty dinner so we went out seeking a restaurant and it took so long to get back we missed the cocktail party, too! Boo! But it was lovely to have some quiet time together.

Saturday morning, I got to sit with long-time writing partners Cindy Faughnan and Debbi Michiko Florence. This was our first conference together, even though we have been working together for, oh, close to ten years? :-)



We listened to Peter Reynolds talk about the power of a single dot. But more importantly, the power of a teacher's encouragement to trust that you are just as special as anyone else. That your dot, your words, _you_ matter. It was a continuation of the theme that began back in Stowe, and it filled my heart with hope for those kids who need to hear that message most.

At lunch, I had the honor to present Tamara Ellis Smith with the first of two Marguerite (Peggy) Davol scholarships. What a joy! Then, I accepted the Crystal Kite Award for SEE YOU AT HARRY'S. Also, obviously a big joy. A big honor. A huge moment. In my acceptance speech, I talked about how there were times when I thought Harry's was just too hard to write. And how it was friends (including Peggy) at an NESCBWI conference years ago who gave me the courage to keep trying. I also talked about how last year, a friend was having similar feelings about her own work, and how we also encouraged her to not give up. Well, she didn't, and she just got her first book deal! :-) I extend that message to all of you, feeling doubt about whether you can do this thing. You can. It will be hard. And it will probably require you to work extremely hard. But if you are willing, you can do it. You CAN!



Saturday night proved to all of us that this conference can feel just a wee bit too big and overwhelming, as we realized just how impossible it was to find each other and try to meet for dinner and then find those we couldn't earlier to meet to visit and chat at night. Yikes! There were so many people at this conference I meant to see and catch up with but I simply never did. Usually we at least spy each other walking through the halls but boy there were just so many people it became impossible. I love that this conference has grown, that so many people are pursuing their dreams of telling their stories. But I also wish I could have been in about ten places at the same time, so that I hadn't missed catching up with so many dear friends.

On Sunday morning, Laurel Snyder talked about who we write for, and how to filter out the voices and advice that stifle our creativity. My favorite quote: "You can't write for everybody because everybody isn't a person." I have been thinking about that a lot.

Then I got to give a workshop on "Brave Beginnings" and encourage people to rethink the beginnings of their works-in progress. I realize now this workshop could have easily been 2 hours long instead of 1. But I hope people were inspired by the blank page and could see how sometimes not looking at what's already there can be liberating and help them find the beginning that works just right.

Driving home with friends, it was awfully quiet. I think we all had our own thoughts swirling around in our hearts. The friends we reconnected with. The people we met for the first time. The advice we received. The food we regretted eating. But mostly, that question about who we write for, and who we want to reach, and why, and how we can, and what might happen if we do.

Thank you to all the volunteers who make this conference possible. There is a reason it keeps growing, and it's because you all make it so wonderful.



~*~*~*~*~*~

Think about what Laurel said about how you can't write for everybody because everybody isn't a person. Think about it really carefully. And now think about who we _DO_ write for? Think about who _YOU_ write for. Who do you imagine reader your words? Who do you want to, most specifically? Write a letter to that person and explain why. Why do you want him/her to hear your story? Why him/her most of all? What do you want this special reader to know? To hear? To feel? Then, if you're still feeling brave, share!

School visits, nerves, grattitude, and a Monday Morning Warm-Up :-)

Recently I had a very special school visit. It was at the school where my sister is the school librarian!



I've seen how my sister prepares for author visits so I was pretty excited to get the Mrs. Finnegan treatment ;-)





Steph really prepares the kids for a visit, and she and the kids put a lot of care into making the place feel welcoming:



(Look at the Fred poster! All the kids wanted to know more about FRED!)

Steph said when she put up the sign, all the kids went nuts because they thought the author who wrote "the pigeon books" was coming :-)



I had the extra bonus of visiting during literacy week, so the kids were ALL ABOUT READING that day.



The first thing I saw when I entered the school was this: The kids were taking a reading relay challenge and there was always someone reading in the tub--students, teachers, even the principal!



All the teachers had decorated their doors with book themes. It was fun to see so many friends' books on these doors!



I met with two groups of 7th and 8th graders who read See You At Harry's. It was "Lunch with an Author" and all I could think of was Dear Mr. Henshaw when Leigh has lunch with Mrs. Badger. :-)



Here's one of the thoughtful groups of students I talked with:


I had such a fun time, and it was wonderful to see my sister with all her sweet students.

On my way out, I couldn't resist taking a turn in the tub... with my sister, of course. :-)



Yesterday, I posted on Facebook about how nervous I get before a speaking event. I worry days ahead of time that something will go wrong. The media equipment won't work. I'll forget my speech. The kids won't like me. But so far *knocks wood* none of those things has happened. (At least I hope not!)

I have been so incredibly lucky to be able to visit schools and talk with kids and share our love of books. It is a rare and moving opportunity that is worth every nervous feeling.

Thanks Steph, and all the kids at Holderness Central School, for making the day so special!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

I am very sorry I haven't updated my blog in such a long time! I hope those of you looking for prompts remembered to hit the tag link to find some! I always have a lot on my web site. :-)

For today's prompt, I want you to explore how you convey emotion on the page. I think this is one of the most challenging things my students struggle with. How do YOU convey emotion and show not tell? Writ a scene, share your thoughts. I'd love to have a conversation about this! <3

Finish Every Day

Yesterday on Facebook, I included the phrase, "Life is beautiful" in an update.

As soon as I posted it, I thought about the people who might be hurting that day and see it, and disagree. Who might see it, and resent me. Or just feel sad.

So I almost deleted it. But then I didn't. Because life _is_ beautiful, thank god or spirit of life, or whoever it is that made it so. Without some hope for beauty, without a glimpse now and then, or a reminder to be on the lookout for it, what would be the point?

I am aware that life can be as ugly as it is beautiful.

On the ugly days, you might not want to hear about the joys of a baby's smile. Or the precious off-kilter wag of a puppy's tail.

Every cute photo on Facebook may feel like a dagger to your heart.

On the ugly days, when your world has come to a screeching halt, it may seem impossible to you that it's still spinning perfectly for everyone else. That everyone else just goes on living, sharing recycled jokes, unaware (but you are convinced it's because they don't care), that you are hurting inside.

The unfairness of it makes you want to scream. Look at me! I need you.

When life is beautiful, you might not want to hear about the stomach flu your friend's son has, or about the dying twenty-year-old cat of some acquaintance on Facebook you're not even sure how you know.

You care, but not in the way you should. Because the world is spinning perfectly that day, and you do not want to be pulled off the ride one more time.

Other times, you have a life is beautiful moment, and you say so. Like I did. But then you are filled with guilt, because you know someone is going to read that phrase, someone who is having an ugly day, and feel that dagger. And you worry this time you are the one who pressed it into someone's undeserving heart.

I am aware that _you_ is me.

And what I'm learning over and over again is that life, whether ugly or beautiful, is a gift. What we do with it is a choice.

Yesterday at church our minster read from a letter Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote to his daughter while she was away at school. It's called "Finish Every Day." I'll share part of it here:

To-morrow is a new day;
you shall begin it well and serenely,
and with too high a spirit
to be cumbered with your old nonsense.
It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the rotten yesterdays.

I like this very much. To think that, cliché as it is, tomorrow _is_ a new day. What an easy promise that is. Maybe it will be beautiful. Maybe it will be a little ugly. But I will try to begin it well.

I will try to remember my New Year's theme to live a beautiful life. To love that cat I don't know. The smiling baby. The puppy's tail. The puking child. The suffering friend. Even the one who drives me crazy.

It is all too dear to waste on my own rotten yesterdays.

Today, I am writing with my long-time writing partners _in person_ for the first time in maybe a year. Today, is a gift day and I'm so grateful to begin it well.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

What can you do to begin the day well?

Trusting the process... and your friends

Last week I finally "finished" the rough draft of a middle grade/tween novel I was supposed to finish last November. I mentioned last week how much I've been struggling with this one, mainly due to constant interruptions as well as, admittedly, using those as an excuse not to work on it. But now there is a draft. There is a beginning (of sorts), a very murky middle that goes on and on and on, and there is an end (of sorts). There is conflict and there is resolution. But... and it is so hard to admit this... there isn't enough heart. There isn't enough life. There isn't enough structure. And there isn't enough plot. There are some funny moments and some sad moments but overall, what I have is a massive collection of scenes all loosely tied together that tell a weak story at best.

I know what this means.

I'm afraid of what this means.

I have to start over on a blank page.

When I admitted this to my husband and writing partners, they were like, "Well, yeah. You've done that with all your books."

And I was like? "Wait, what?" And then I remembered that was true. I seem to be good at blocking the memory of this step out.

"This is your process."

That's what they tell me, reassuringly. And then they say, "You can do it."

Sometimes I think one of the most valuable aspects of this life is to have friends who believe in me when I don't. I can't imagine what I would do without them telling me I can do something I've stopped believing I can do.

Thank you Cindy, Debbi and Peter for believing in me, especially on the days when it seems too hard. It reminds me of how silly that is, really, to say about writing.

Writing is only as hard as you make it.

It might seem hard because I'm afraid. Or feeling tired. Or overwhelmed. Or not sure which way to go. It might seem hard because I'm unsure of myself. Or like it's a waste of time. Or even because I'm just plan lazy. But it's never too hard. That's me saying that because I don't want to do it. And there are certainly plenty of legitimate reasons for that. But those reasons are about me, not about the writing.

Writing is a choice. It's also a privilege. And when I remember that, the mountain seems a little less steep.

I can do it.

And so can you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Think about the power of the phrase, "You can do it." How can you use that in your own life, in encouraging yourself and others, and how could you use it in your fiction? Is it something you might need to whisper in your main character's ear? Something he or she needs to convince someone else of? Start a scene with dialogue beginning "You can do it" and see what happens...

And speaking of "you can do it", here's my progress so far :-)

Maybe You Could Do More

Some of you know, the past few years I have been trying to be "a runner." Or jogger. Or, probably most accurately a plodder. Each year, I add a mile to my yearly goal and attempt it on my birthday in September.

My challenge: I live on a twisty, hilly dirt, and once winter sets in, it can be very difficult to run on, especially when we get a very snowy winter like the one we've had this year. The road narrows, it's icy, and it's really just not safe to walk on, much less run. In fact the last time I went for a walk I had a very graceless wipe-out.

But we've had a few warm days and the snow banks have receded and it looks like the ice is mostly gone. So today, it's time to get back out there. Last September, I was able to run 6 (very slow) miles. But I'm afraid after a few months of not running at all, I'm back to square one. This happened last year, too. It's a bummer.

But last week, in a moment of inspiration (and perhaps delusion), I downloaded the training schedule for the Couch to Half Marathon plan. I meant to do the Couch to 10K plan, but for "some reason" I clicked on the half marathon link instead. My goal is only to run 7 miles. But there's this little dreamer inside me that says, Maybe you could do more...

So it is 6:52 a.m. as I write this and the training schedule is staring at me with a photo of this very fit lady at the top running like the wind and even though I know I will never look like her, with my frumpy body and my slow shuffle, somehow I'm still inspired to try. Today is the day.

On a parallel line here, I have been in a bit of a writing slump. Specifically, with a book that was technically or maybe just theoretically due back in November. That was the date we chose for the contract but I have been silently hoping no one else will remember.

Because I still haven't managed to finish the very rough first draft.

Last year I took on a teaching position and I also began doing more speaking engagements and traveling to more conferences and I had revisions come in for another novel and... all this meant I kept getting interrupted. Every time I tried to get back into my work-in-progress I felt I'd slipped more and more behind.

Like my running, the days I could finally get out there I felt I'd lost so much I could barely make progress. It was getting more and more frustrating and stressful. Eventually it began to feel hopeless. Eventually I more or less stopped.

But that's not really an option, is it? To give up your goal, your dream, just because it seems too hard?

No way.

On Friday, I had finished my school visit duties for the week. I finished an essay I'd committed to. I was done with all my student packets. I had a full day to write. It was like looking at a flat, ice-free road on a perfect-weather day and just standing there thinking, This is probably going to hurt, but you've gotta start somewhere.

Sometimes, opening my file, or putting on my sneakers, is actually the hardest part of getting back to the task at hand. It's the final commitment to starting again. Starting from what feels like the bottom of a very steep hill. So I told myself:

Just write one sentence. It can be terrible.

So I wrote one terrible sentence.

And then I told myself:

Maybe you could do more.

So I tried.

And soon I'd written 500 words. And maybe not all of them were so terrible. I felt myself finally stepping back into the story.

Today, I will write 1,000 words.

I'm also going to find my running shoes, buried under piles of winter boots and mismatched winter clothes at the bottom of the closet. My instructions say to jog 30 seconds, then walk 60 seconds. Repeat until you've gone 2 miles. It doesn't sound so hard, when you break it up like that.

One sentence. 30 seconds. It's possible.

I know a lot of you struggle too, so I wanted to put this little phrase in your head this morning, just like it lodged itself in mine.

Maybe you could do more.

I'm pretty sure you can.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Write to the prompt: "Maybe I could do more..."

What else can you do?

Yesterday I heard a piece of an interview with Kathleen Turner on NPR. She was on to promote her new musical and when I turned on the radio, she was specifically talking to the interviewer about how she had done a lot of film acting, but now she was doing stage. And the interviewer said something along the lines of what a successful film career Turner had had, and why would she leave it all? Wasn't it risky? And Turner said something like, of course doing something different is risky. But the biggest risk of not trying something new is that you'll never know what else you can do.

I've been mulling that over a lot. Thinking about my own comfort zone and how much I dislike stepping out of it. How scary it is, and certainly how risky it feels. And yet time after time when I force myself to try something new, I learn something really important about myself and the world. Sometimes, it's true, I learn that I'm not very good at something. But I've also learned something more important than that. I've learned that people are lenient. That kids don't mind if you stumble on a few words when you're trying out a new presentation, or in a recent case, speaking off the cuff for the first time. I've learned that falling doesn't hurt as much as I think it will, and I don't have to look graceful getting back up. I just... have to get back up. I've also learned that I can do a lot of things I didn't think I ever could. And that has been well worth the risk.

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Think about something you've wanted to do or try but haven't because you've been afraid you'd fail at it. Write a scene about a character attempting this thing and what happens when they fail at it. Now rewrite the scene and what happens when they succeed. Be sure to really get inside your character's head. Harness your own fear. Use your imagination to come up with realistic emotions for your worst-case and best-case scenarios. What happens? Does the worst-case turn into humor? Did it really turn out not to be so bad after all? How about the best-case? I hope this exercise will encourage you to try for real. :-)

The Bond Writers Have

This year I started teaching in the MFA program at SNHU. It's a low-residency program that meets twice a year in person for several days of critiques, workshops, readings and community building. Between the residencies, I work as a mentor to five students. This month was my first winter residency at the fancy Mountain View Grand in New Hampshire. It's beautiful. Also cold. And I think because of the weather, a lot of people stayed inside. What happened this winter that I didn't see happening over the summer was this "coming together," even when nothing was scheduled. Students pulled up chairs and couches making circles to talk, share challenges in their work, and then impromptu readings. I was "caught" in one of those.


Photo by Franella Smith, a student in the program

Now normally I do not like to read in public. At the faculty reading, when faculty read to the student body, I get so nervous I make myself sick. But sitting around with students in this casual circle, I felt a part of something special. First, I was honored to be allowed in. Second, I felt that since the students were being brave and reading raw work to one another, I wanted to be a part of it. So when Kip, shown, said, "How about you, Jo?" I said yes. Because I wanted to. I really wanted to be a part of this special thing I was witnessing. This bonding of writers. This circle of trust they had created.

I think we writers are bonded by our deep longing to be heard. To tell our stories. I can sit at a table with writers and instantly know that if nothing else, we share that one thing. That one giant thing that makes us look at the world a little differently. Sometimes a little more tenderly than it deserves. And sometimes a little more cruelly. But we are always looking, interpreting, seeing the story there, or _a_ story anyway, whether it's true or not.

I feel I have been given a huge gift by being accepted into this community of storytellers. And I guess I just needed to thank the universe, and in particular a certain friend who suggested I apply for the job (thank you, Robin!!) and the generous person who hired me (thank you, Diane!!), for helping me find my way here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Share a story about a time you bonded with another writer(s) or shared a special "we are writers" moment.

Finding Beauty: A Theme and a Challenge for 2014

As some of you know, every year I choose a theme in January to help me keep on track (sane) the coming year. You may notice today is January 6 and that I haven't posted on this blog in a very long time. My theme should probably be something along the lines of Slow down. Be less busy. Take time to reflect here.

But..

I don't actually know if that's the reason I haven't posted yet. I think the reason I haven't posted yet is that I have been happily (or at least determinedly) living my life--a theme I still hold dear to my heart which I chose for 2013. (You can read that entry here: http://jbknowles.livejournal.com/468705.html)

Confession: As I just wrote that, I literally had to ask myself: Wait. Is it 2014 now? Or is it 2013? I really don't know what year it is? How is this possible??? And then, dear reader, I actually just clicked on my calendar to be sure. I don't know what this says about my frazzled brain. It has been a very busy year I guess. I've been doing a lot of living.

The deeper truth though, is I have been waiting for true, fresh inspiration. And that hasn't happened.

I have been patiently waiting for a theme that can inspire me and carry me through a year of living a better life for myself, for others, and our ever-increasingly fragile planet. How do I put that into a short and meaningful phrase? Nothing felt quite right.

Two nights ago, at the SNHU graduation, I was sitting among the faculty in the front row, feeling kind of out of place and proud at the same time. Dressed in my robe, holding a speech for my student in my hand, sandwiched between two remarkable writers, I kept thinking, How can I be here? Should I be here? Do I really belong among all of these incredibly smart and talented people? And then I told myself, well, you ARE. So enjoy it. Someone thinks you belong here, why can't you? Live your life! Remember?

Then Mark Sundeen, the author of The Man Who Quit Money and other brilliant things (http://marksundeen.com/) took the stage. Mark is a brilliantly funny and poignant writer. When you talk to him, the beauty and kindness of his soul dances out of every pore. He grins in a wicked way, and yet it's a kind wickedness, if you know what I mean. Mark is the kind of person who looks back at you, not through.

Mark's commencement speech began with a lot of humor about how little money we all make doing this thing we love, but in the end, he delivered 4 pieces of advice. It all resonated strongly, but it was the last that truly spoke to my heart.

With Mark's permission, I share a bit of it here:

Live a beautiful life, and design it with your full heart.

Of equal importance to my dream of being a writer is my dream of living a life of intention and autonomy... Ultimately, I am a writer because I'm in search of the truth, of some sort of enlightenment, and I realized early in life that for me, there was no truth to be found sitting in a cubicle juggling numbers or entering data or selling useless products to gullible people, where I felt my efforts were creating the exact same crummy world I wanted to condemn and transcend through my writing. I couldn't do that because then everything I wrote about truth and nobility and the wonder of the human spirit would be a fraud. So for me living simply isn't just about slumming it, it's about living nobly, about the self-determination allowing myself to spend my life pursuing what I love—maybe one day this is writing for 6 hours, another day it's skiing in the middle of the afternoon, another day it's reading manuscripts from students, another it's harvesting vegetables and cooking them. To me that is freedom. I want my life to be a thing of beauty. And I encourage you to invest the same vision, intention, craft, imagination, poetry, and form that you put into your book—put it into the living of your life every day.

While his entire speech was inspiring, the big moment for me was this sentence:

I want my life to be a thing of beauty.

What a goal. What a dream. And yet… does it really have to be so hard? What is beauty? Where is beauty?

The gift is being able to answer the first question honestly and the second willfully and with brave determination, even in the darkest times.

Beauty is everywhere. It can be found in the harshest corners of a broken heart. There is beauty in life as well as death. In a love remembered. In a struggle survived. Searching for beauty in the ugly, in the seemingly hopeless, in sadness, that's what hope is. That's what living is. That's how you live a beautiful life.

Yesterday, I ventured out for a walk in the cold. I'm at the SNHU MFA Winter Residency in Northern New Hampshire and the temperature with the wind kicking up was bitter. But Mark's words were bouncing around in my chest and the hotel we're all staying in, while beautiful, felt as though it were shrinking around me and I needed the air and the sky, their beauty, no matter how biting they might be.

The first thing I came across as I stepped out was a somewhat tacky ice-sculpture of a train. It just seemed so out of place up here in the mountains. I would have preferred something more reflective of the quiet beautiful space we're in. But as I stepped closer, I saw that the train had windows. And the frames had this beautiful detail. And when I stepped even closer, I saw that through those windows was this view:



Beautiful.

Beauty in the ugly.

I moved on. I knew there was a farm nearby but wasn't quite sure where. The wind picked up and I heard some children yelling in delight. I followed the sound and discovered two children flying down a tiny hill on tubes. There was a man who works at the hotel giving them big pushes with a pole and it struck me as so funny that here at this fancy resort, even sledding you get some assistance. "You can't do this where you live in California!" he called to them. And they said, "In California, we don't own snow pants!" There was so much delight in their voices. So much joy. So much beauty. Even if the privilege of it all felt a tad phony to me. Their joy was real. And it was beautiful.

I followed the path and saw a sign for the farm. The road was snow-covered and still so new that it was that pure kind of walk where your footprints alone are the only signs of someone having stepped there before.

I came across a pair of donkeys who let me scratch their foreheads. They seemed contentedly bored. Bored and beautiful.



Next was the hotel's barn full of a nice sampling of sheep and goats and lamas and all the cute farmyard stage animals you'd expect to see, but it was more of a petting zoon than anything else and there was something so strange about being there by myself, no staff people around because what crazy resort person would be visiting the farm in such sub-zero weather? Well, I was. And it was the absence of anyone else that made that moment so absurdly beautiful. The animals just looked at me and then ignored me. I didn't have food. I was of no use. So they let me watch as they meandered around one another. Seemingly confused about what their purpose really was on a day like that.



Honestly their indifference to me made me laugh. And then I saw this other pair, set apart from the rest. Facing each other as if it say, I only have eyes for you.



And that was beautiful, too.

Next I decided to follow a trail freshly groomed for cross-country skiers. But again, no one was skiing on a day like that. So I had the path to myself. It was eerily quiet. But something told me to keep walking. So I did. And found this tree. And I wondered, what stories could it tell?



In the summer, this tree is in the center of a golf course. Perfectly mowed and groomed in it's artificial beauty. But now, winter, nature, had covered up all the falseness with an honest blanket of white. And that was beautiful all by itself.

Last night, I went to a faculty reading and each reading was painful and hard and told of grief and despair. But underneath that, almost as if it couldn't be helped, was hope. My heart was at once rung out and then filled up. The words were both ugly and beautiful. Crushing and uplifting. They were ultimately about survival. About figuring out how to keep living even in the darkest times. That these women, these mentors, shared their stories so wholly and raw and honestly, was beautiful too. (Thank you Katie Towler, Amy Irvine McHarg, Leslie Jamison--you are beautiful inside and out)

This is how I want to live my life. To see the beautiful and how it can trump the ugly almost every time. It's believing in that, it's the constant searching for it, that I want to remember to do every day.

Yes. I want to live a beautiful life and, as Mark puts it, design it with a full heart. This is how I want to share my life.

Keep finding the beauty. It's so easy most of the time. And even when it's hard, to know that it's possible makes all the difference.

I want to find beauty in all the people I know and meet. I want to find it in objects. I want to find it on the dirty streets. In seemingly impossible situations. In moments of frustration and doubt.

Can I do it? Maybe not always. But I think it's a goal worth aiming for. I challenge you to do the same.

~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Write about something beautiful.

Have you been to the fourth dimension?

Last week was a special one for me.

First, Vermont Public Radio aired the book group meeting I had with the wonderful kids at the Burnham Memorial Library in Colchester, VT. It was part of a series called Dorothy's List. This is the state book award list which students read from and then vote for their favorite at the end of the year.

You can see photos and listen to the event here:

http://digital.vpr.net/post/dorothys-list-jo-knowles-emotional-novel-see-you-harrys

One of my favorites (shared with me by a parent):



Second, my local paper ran a story about me! It was so kind and thoughtfully written, though everyone goofed on me about the photo. :-) The intern they assigned the photo to got a little excited about having my computer cast a glow on me, which was sweet. But in the end, I couldn't help making the comparison...



:-) Anyway, it was a real treat to hear from local friends who'd read the article, especially those who didn't know a lot about me or my writing or my story.

You can read the article, called "A Writers Path to Understanding," here:

http://www.vnews.com/news/townbytown/hartland/9650222-95/a-writers-path-to-understanding 

I'm not one to get paid a lot of attention to, and I'm not one to feel very comfortable when it happens, but these two events were so special and I am very, very grateful. Talking to kids about stories and writing and life has turned out to be the most rewarding and meaningful aspect of my writing life. To get the opportunity is a true honor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:

A colleague of mine wrote a thought-provoking post about writing at the SNHU page: "What is Literary Writing, and Why it Matters in the Matrix," by Amy Irvine McHarg. You can read the full entry here:

http://www.mfawriting.org/2013/12/literary-writing-matters-matrix/

I love this excerpt:

"It may sound like Star Trek stuff, but the fourth dimension is the place we want to access in poetry and prose. When we write deeply enough, there is an opening, that takes us below the horizontal plane, the surface of the ego, into the creative unconscious. It is here, where the rich textures and nuances happen, the place where writing becomes not just a craft but an act of grace."

Do you know what she's talking about? Have you been there? My challenge for you today is to explore your own interpretation of this fourth dimension Amy describes. Where is that place for you? For your story? Take a minute to close your eyes, slow your breathing, and open your mind to the core place of your story. Then open your mind's eye and look around. Feel. Breathe again. What do you discover?

Apparently, I love a challenge

Recently I made an important discovery: I LOVE a group challenge!

For years I hosted JoNoWriMo+1.5, in which we all set goals and checked in to keep accountable. Do you know how many books I finished/revised thanks to this challenge? A lot. And I know many of you did, too. :-)

Then I signed up for the Couch to 5K challenge, and managed to get my sedentary butt moving and moving and moving! It was a miracle. And the great thing was, a bunch of my friends joined me and many of us ran farther than we have our whole lives. What an amazing feeling!

It seems I stick to my goals when I join something like this, which requires me to share my progress in public, but also to cheer on people who are going through the same thing with me! I guess I don't like doing this stuff alone. I love to encourage my friends to reach their goals as much as I love to meet them myself. There's something so special about doing something good for you TOGETHER. Know what I mean?

Recently, I did the 30-Day Plank Challenge. I printed out the schedule and put it on my refrigerator. Every day when I completed the task, I got to scribble it out and it felt SO GOOD to do that. :-) I also checked in with friends both on Facebook and Twitter and several of us managed to complete it. Yay!

My writing partners and I check in with each other every day and share our word-count or revision goals and cheer each on until we reach them. I know if it weren't for checking in with my friends on many of these days, I would accomplish nothing. Instead, we work together and make a ton of progress.

Do I rely too much on others to help me stick to my goals? Maybe. But I love not being alone. I love feeling like my success feeds their success, just as much as theirs feeds mine.

Now that I know how well this all works for me, I've made my own challenge for December. I've posted it below in case you'd like to join me. If this seems too easy or too challenging, you can tweak it to fit your own needs. In fact, this is your Monday-Morning Warm-Up! I've added my writing goals as well, and I encourage you to do the same. :)

I hope you'll join me!!

DECEMBER GOALS

1. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups
2. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups, run at least 1 mile; write 500 words
3. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups; write 500 words
4. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups, run at least 1 mile; write 500 words
5. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups; write 500 words
6. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups, run at least 1 mile; write 500 words
7. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups
8. 2 min plank, 10 sit-ups, 5 pushups
9. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups, run at least 1.5 miles; write 1,000 words
10. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups; write 1,000 words
11. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups, run at least 1.5 miles; write 1,000 words
12. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups; write 1,000 words
13. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups, run at least 1.5 miles; write 1,000 words
14. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups
15. 2.30 min plank, 15 sit-ups, 7 pushups
16. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups, run at least 2 miles; write 1,000 words
17. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups,; write 1,000 words
18. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups, run at least 2 miles; write 1,000 words
19. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups,; write 1,000 words
20. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups, run at least 2 miles; write 1,000 words
21. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups,
22. 3 min plank, 20 sit-ups, 10 pushups,
23. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups, run at least 2.5 miles; write 1,000 words
24. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups; write 1,000 words
25. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups, run at least 2.5 miles
26. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups; write 500 words
27. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups, run at least 2.5 miles; write 500 words
28. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups
29. 3 min plank, 25 sit-ups, 13 pushups
30. 3 min plank, 30 sit-ups, 15 pushups, run at least 3 miles; write 500 words
31. 3 min plank, 30 sit-ups, 15 pushups; write 500 words