Destiny Allison's Blog, page 17
March 11, 2013
Book Review: Without a Spare by Bonnie Kassel
Without a Spare
by Bonnie Kassel
Memoir/Travel
Synopsis: Without a Spare is a series of interlinking, autobiographical stories of Bonnie Kassel’s adventures around the globe. In them, Ms. Kassel shares friendships, cultures, cuisines, and herself. Less a travel guide and more a personal journey, Ms. Kassel delivers deep meaning without being deep, demonstrates courage without shirking fear, and offers a glimpse of greater understanding without preaching or teaching. As the author learns how to travel, she also learns what it means to be unflinching in the pursuit of a life worth living.
Review: Rating: 4 1/2 stars
Simply said, I loved this book. Well written, honest, and engaging, Without a Spare transformed an ordinary weekend into an adventure around the world and into myself. Ms. Kassel’s willingness to share her story without apology inspired me not only to travel, but to be brave and open in everyday life.
Without a Spare is in turns thought provoking and entertaining, Ms. Kassel invites the reader to share in her discoveries, friendships, loves, and trauma with a lighthearted touch, a fair dose of humor, and an appreciation of all things living.
When Kassel said, “It is impossible to remain alone for long when you are traveling in out-of-the-way places,” she was referring to one of her trips to India where she ended up wading through mangroves faster than she could say, “Where do you find high, rubber boots?” In this passage, as in many others, her statement revealed a larger truth. When we dare to defy convention, be ourselves, and trust, we create a life worth living. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in what it means to truly live.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=life+without+a+spare
I received a copy of this book for in exchange for an honest review.
March 10, 2013
Love This
Continuing with the “Sometimes someone else says it better” theme.
March 9, 2013
Delving into the Deep and Ditching it?
Sometimes, other people say it better.
“It may be that we are doomed, that there is no hope for us, any of us, but if that is so then let us set up a last agonizing, bloodcurdling howl, a screech of defiance, a war whoop! Away with lamentation! Away with elegies and dirges! Away with biographies and histories, and libraries and museums! Let the dead eat the dead. Let us living ones dance about the rim of the crater, a last expiring dance. But a dance!” ~ Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
(thanks to Facebook friend, John, for sharing this today).
Or different.
Yesterday, on Twitter, a follower had the grace to ask what I meant when I said, “Use your life. Do not use your ideas about life or even about beauty to create your work.” This quote from my book was meant to inspire, not confuse, but my follower didn’t get it. In rapid fire tweets, we had an intense conversation about creative expression. At the end of it, I think I gained more than she did.
In having to explain myself succinctly, I had to look again at what I do, and why. This, I think, is the fundamental job of an artist. It is not enough to just render images, go with the gut, and tweak until we either hate it so much we don’t want to work on it any longer or until we get that peaceful feeling and call it done. Something drove us to express what we did, a searching or hunger for meaning, knowledge, or soul and until we know what it was, we can’t rest.
Sometimes, that means working a piece to death and back again. Other times, it means doing a series on a subject until we’ve exhausted it. Regardless, the creative monster pushes us to understand something fundamental about ourselves.
For years, I have been intense, serious, and deeply passionate (I bet you hadn’t noticed). Hard to live with, demanding, and focused, I wanted to get at the root of things. Then, in this last year, something switched. Instead of pursuing a “great work” I was driven to do something just fun.
The deep artist in me wrestles with this. I hear my literary friends scoffing in the background. The new novel isn’t particularly deep, insightful, or transcendent. It’s just a story. Granted, I pushed myself hard and am diligently pursuing perfection, but it will not be the next, great American novel. I don’t even want it to be.
So today, thinking back on my abbreviated conversation on Twitter last night and contemplating Miller’s quote above, I am doing the artist thing. As in, WTF am I doing? And why?
The new novel is not autobiographical or wrought with meaning wrestled from profound experience (or experience I would have liked to be profound). Still, I’m as excited by this endeavor as I was when first learning to sculpt. On fire, I am consumed, plotting the sequel, studying writing, and conversing with the characters in my dreams. I am, as Miller described, dancing.
Here’s the lesson I’m gleaning, again and in a different way: There is no supposed to be. My pursuit of a fictional novel intended to be escapist fun is as valid as any other. Having been dead serious always, I am discovering parts of myself unknown. When I share it, people will take what they will. Some will get it, others will hate it, each of them furthering their own journey in the process.
I do what I do because I have to. When my protagonist’s voice came through my fingers without my permission, I had no choice but to listen. Not surprisingly, the heroine must discover herself in order to save the world. Hmmm, maybe there’s some meaning there after all.
What do you think? What drives you to create? How do you use your life in your art? I would love to hear your thoughts.
March 7, 2013
Why are We Here?
Why do I exist? What is my purpose for being? Does any of it matter? Sometimes I wonder if existential angst is most prevalent in the blogosphere.
This morning, I got an email from blogger extraordinaire, Craig McBreen. He was talking about a conference he had attended and said this, “I’ll be honest, I went there looking for answers, but found none. It was a great experience, but hands-on business advice was sorely lacking.”
Not long ago, I said something similar about a conference I had just attended, so I smiled when I read Craig’s note and immediately clicked to his most recent post. In it, he articulated the importance of branding and how bloggers must think more like entrepreneurs.
Hmmm. I am an entrepreneur. I’ve been one for a long time and have been fortunate. The thing that made my success was being me. Not a brand, not a promise, just a person. Obviously, a quality product and some business sense didn’t hurt, but they are not the most important thing. People won’t buy anything from someone they don’t trust.
So I was wondering this morning about his advice and thought I would give a stab at defining what this blog is about and why anyone should read it.
Here goes: This blog is about choosing who we want to be and how we want to live. It is about going off platform, being honest, and celebrating our creativity, vitality, and passion. I don’t promise to solve your problems. You will, most likely, not rocket to success from anything you read here. Instead, you might find you like yourself a little more. You might discover that it is okay to be who you are. You might find kindred spirits who give you permission to do anything you want to do (within reason, of course) and support you while you do it.
I am not a brand. I am an artist, a businesswoman, a mother, and wife. I am a writer, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. Tomorrow, I might take up knitting (though I doubt it). Next year, I could bag it all and travel the world. Regardless of our means of expression, I think we’re here to live fully, authentically, and large.
That means that there is no right way to do anything, or one size fits all kind of advice. I am happy to share what I’ve gleaned along my journey for what it is worth. If you want to know how to sell your work, I am willing to tell you how I do. If you want to know what I’ve learned about marketing, social media, book design, or doing patinas, ask. If you want to hear about my many failures, I’m willing to talk about them. Then, when I’ve shared what I can, take what you will.
The thing that is most important is that each of us discovers what works for us. One of my favorite inspirational quotes is from Marianne Williamson’s Course in Miracles.
She says, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant? Gorgeous? Talented? Fabulous? Actually who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.”
You can look up the rest of it. It is equally good. I believe that when we shine — and that means loving who we are, what we look like, and what we do — we create a life that is both inspiring and fulfilling. What else is there?
I welcome your comments. How do you shine? What makes you afraid? Who do you want to be and do you have a plan for how to get there? We’re in this together. Let’s build a community of permissions, celebration, and shared experiences.
Book Review: Lime by Melda Beaty
Lime
By Melda Beaty
Fiction
Synopsis:
Lime Prince catapults to stardom as an international super model, leaving behind a disastrous marriage, her family, and her best friend, AJ. An aspiring attorney, AJ is practical, intelligent, and committed to the belief that no man touches her without her permission. When Lime and AJ reconnect, glamour and fashion collide with the harsh realities of domestic violence, causing Lime to choose between her beliefs and career.
Rating: 3.5 Stars
Review:
Lime is an engrossing look at the two sides of beauty. Beaty writes a compelling story about two women locked into the stereotypes of what women should be, and how women are defined by their appearance – for better or worse. Underlying a narrative rich with fashion and personal relationships, is an important examination of what beauty really is.
The character development is excellent and the story flows. I was immediately engaged in the rapport between the main characters, and by the end of the book, I cared for them. I would have preferred the book not to have a prolog and wish the ending had been as well developed as the beginning.
I look forward to more books from this author.
I received this book in exchange for an honest review.
March 5, 2013
Permission Granted
At 4:30 am, the alarm went off and we trudged through the security line and boarding gate, yawning and stressed. My youngest son, flying from Denver, had overslept and missed his flight. In Atlanta, we made for the Delta lounge and threw back a fabulous Bloody Mary. It helped a little, but I still worried. Would my son manage to arrive in time? Hurried text messages flew back and forth as we researched options. It didn’t look good.
After landing, cab ride, check in, quick shower, subway, people, noise, and floor so sticky we didn’t need to hold the rail as the train lurched underground, I tried to hide my disappointment. My husband squeezed my hand, his eyes gentle with sympathy.
We met the rest of our group at the box office, made it through the ticket line and up the stairs to our mezzanine seats. The curtains opened and the lead launched into a solo scene, but I couldn’t concentrate. Then, my phone vibrated. My son was a block away. I dashed outside to meet him as a long, black limo pulled up to the curb. He emerged, grinning sheepishly. “What? It was same price as a cab,” he said. I shook my head at him, laughing. My son has always had his own style. Red-eyed, wrinkled, and tousle haired, he opened his arms and I flew into them. I hadn’t seen him in months, but there was no time to savor the sweetness of his scent.
In the theater, I watched him and the performance simultaneously. My son, Mr. Drama, had never seen a Broadway show. As he sat on the edge of his seat, eyes bright and hands gripped, tears streamed down my face. The show was great, but his reaction to it was magic.
Later, we walked Times Square in search of dessert. At midnight, there were more people on the streets than the entire population of Santa Fe. Every shape, size, ethnicity, and style sashayed, staggered, clicked, and pointed under the daylight glare of giant screens. Energized, I quickened to the pace, clamor, and juice of the city. My legs hurt from walking in heels. My eyes burned from exhaustion. A million conversations assaulted my ears, drowning out cohesive thought. The sensory explosion continued through the weekend.
Yesterday, after hugging family goodbye, my sensations and experiences melded. An impressionist canvas in my mind, countless dots interacted in myriad colors to paint a picture vital and profound. I love New York. There, everyone is different. The bald and beautiful black guy in tight, black leather wore a shade of lipstick so bright it glowed. A white, retired college professor and his curly haired wife stood out like blooming tulips against gray concrete on the uptown train because they smiled, made eye contact, and held hands. We saw a bit of everything, but seldom suffered the tedium of generic. The city, so different from everywhere else, sparkled with individuality and vitality.
Last year, in Miami, we drove through South Beach on a Saturday night. My other sons had just turned 21 and were going clubbing. On every block, scores of young women in tight, black dresses and high heeled sandals stood in line under flashing, neon signs. After awhile, they all looked the same. Canned sex, despite the freshness of youth, had no appeal. Then, leaning against a light post, a young woman in tee shirt and torn jeans flashed a smile at her two companions, both dressed in identical, black dresses. Unafraid to be comfortable, the girl glowed and the boys shouted in unison, “We’ll get out here.”
Over and over again, in a world filled with clutter, repetition, and noise, the authentic voices separate themselves. In books, music, art, and social media I look for what is unique, passionate, and eloquent. I also look for voices courageous enough to ignite my empathy. When they ring out in a tweet, a post, a poem, or a painting, they make life rich and inspire me to be fearless.
Today in my brown Santa Fe scene, low clouds tarnish the bright sky and mountain peaks. I’m tired writing this, and procrastinating. Too many emails await and responsibilities clamor, but I am still savoring the trip and basking in permissions granted. If that black guy could pull off that shade of pink lipstick, what is it that I can’t do?
February 27, 2013
Wading through Cyber Space
Source: At the Edge of the World by Maciej Duczynski
Do you ever wake up wanting to scream? Not a scream of terror, or pain, but one of beauty and thrill, angst and frustration, as if somehow, muddling through the muck of cyberspace is equivalent to traipsing through an enchanted land where everyone but you can hear the crickets?
That was a long sentence. Sorry. I have these new routines that simultaneously open my mind and crowd it. Sometimes, it’s wonderful. I’m meeting people all over the world who I really enjoy. Other times, the stream of people shouting “Buy me,” makes me want to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and hide.
I would like to buy it all, spend my days in leisure, and explore the countless offerings. Unfortunately, that’s impossible. On most days, I’m lucky if I find time to discern what I have to offer. I suppose that’s what this blog is about — sorting through the onslaught of information, ideas, and passion and sharing the convoluted life of an artist and author. Thanks for listening. You have no idea what it means that you comment and share my ramblings.
Over the last few months, Twitter has become my favorite platform. I used to love Facebook, but these days, it is often stale, dated, and choked with ads that have no relevance to me. Truth is, while I enjoy my interaction with friends and fans, I no longer trust Facebook. Having done the proper thing, and used the “promote this post” button a few times, I suspect the company is buying likes. When one of my promoted posts goes “viral” to 5,000 people, but the majority of those liking it are men aged 13 to 35 living in Muslim countries, I have to question Facebook’s legitimacy. As a woman author and artist, loudly proclaiming in favor of women’s rights, these likes don’t make sense.
OK, enough bitching about Facebook. Can you tell I’m a little scattered this morning? Up late last night working on the book cover and tired, I had intended this post to be about passion and originality, but it morphed into something else. Yes, in this enchanted world, things can go astray quickly.
The thing about the web is that it is so easy to con people. We all want to be heard, have our voices rise above the fray, and matter. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be here. I don’t listen any longer to those who shout the loudest, or to those so timid they hide behind an ongoing stream of motivational quotes. I avoid magic incantations, cackling voices promising surefire spells, and snake oil salesmen. They are anathema. Instead, I listen for the honest voice that questions, inspires, and shares.
The other day, a young woman on Twitter posted a simple statement. ”I hate everything about my body,” she said. Saddened, I reached out and told her the hardest thing for a woman to do is ignore expectations, but when she does she will never question her beauty again. We are becoming friends.
When we stop trying to live up to what we are supposed to be, we become who we are. Then, our authentic voices matter and will be heard. The scream? I want to scream to cyberspace “Trust yourselves, be whole and human. Share your passion, joy, and despair. Show me who you are, not the persona you try to maintain, and I will love you for your honesty.”
As I imagine screaming this into the void, I suspect I am really screaming into a mirror, for I am just as likely to get lost as everyone else. Thanks for joining me on this journey. It matters. If you feel like it, follow me on Twitter. As always, I welcome your thoughts and comments.
February 26, 2013
Creative Curse
OK. Business out of the way. Obviously, I’ve been thinking a great deal about that aspect of my life and it is essential, but it paints a fairly two dimensional picture of who I am or why I do what I do.
Serious artists and writers are compelled to work. Drawn into a mine shaft on a cart without a steering mechanism, we have no choice but to follow the path. It’s scary down there, plummeting the depths of experience and emotion without a map or a guide. Nevertheless, we keep going. To stop is to die.
I struggle a lot with how to make sense of everything I do. Pulled in multiple directions by forces over which I have little control, I have never followed just one career path, art media, or thought process. My friend, Nancy Reyner, recently described her personas as clothes in a closet. Each morning, she wakes, meditates, and chooses the appropriate persona for her day. Will she be a painter, writer, teacher, or mother? Perhaps she’ll slip into some comfortable jeans and be a slacker. The point is, she gets to choose. We all do.
I loved her analogy. It was so clear. Many of my friends write, teach, make art, and own businesses simultaneously. Creativity, once ignited, is unstoppable. It pulls us in multiple directions and allows us to fully explore all parts of ourselves. As we do, we get to see ourselves naked. Knowing that self, and loving it, is the joy of being a creative. It is also the goal. Once we are whole, what we have to share is powerful, regardless of our method of expression.
Our curse? We don’t fit neatly into any one box. That makes us difficult on our significant others and a marketing nightmare. Unfortunately for all, when I’m working, I’m not making product. I’m breathing, damn it, and I’m not selling an object. I’m inviting the world to share a piece of my soul with each creation.
So is it possible to package a person? And should we bother? All the talk about losing fans if we switch from one genre to another without using a pen name is disconcerting. Why would I want anyone to know only one aspect of who I am? I tried that in a marriage once. It didn’t work.
I think the soul of the artist emerges regardless of subject matter or media. At the end of the day, or its beginning, we are a whole person naked in the dark. The personas we adopt, the subjects we choose, and the media with which we express ourselves are irrelevant. What matters is that we express, explore, and share who we are and what we discover.
What do you think? I welcome your thoughts.
I don’t know how to be just one person
OK. Business out of the way. Obviously, I’ve been thinking a great deal about that aspect of my life and it is essential, but it paints a fairly two dimensional picture of who I am or why I do what I do.
Serious artists and writers are compelled to work. Drawn into a mine shaft on a cart without a steering mechanism, we have no choice but to follow the path. It’s scary down there, plummeting the depths of experience and emotion without a map or a guide. Nevertheless, we keep going. To stop is to die.
I struggle a lot with how to make sense of everything I do. Pulled in multiple directions by forces over which I have little control, I have never followed just one career path, art media, or thought process. My friend, Nancy Reyner, recently described her personas as clothes in a closet. Each morning, she wakes, meditates, and chooses the appropriate persona for her day. Will she be a painter, writer, teacher, or mother? Perhaps she’ll slip into some comfortable jeans and be a slacker. The point is, she gets to choose. We all do.
I loved her analogy. It was so clear. Many of my friends write, teach, make art, and own businesses simultaneously. Creativity, once ignited, is unstoppable. It pulls us in multiple directions and allows us to fully explore all parts of ourselves. As we do, we get to see ourselves naked. Knowing that self, and loving it, is the joy of being a creative. It is also the goal. Once we are whole, what we have to share is powerful, regardless of our method of expression.
Our curse? We don’t fit neatly into any one box. That makes us difficult on our significant others and a marketing nightmare. Unfortunately for all, when I’m working, I’m not making product. I’m breathing, damn it, and I’m not selling an object. I’m inviting the world to share a piece of my soul with each creation.
So is it possible to package a person? And should we bother? All the talk about losing fans if we switch from one genre to another without using a pen name is disconcerting. Why would I want anyone to know only one aspect of who I am? I tried that in a marriage once. It didn’t work.
I think the soul of the artist emerges regardless of subject matter or media. At the end of the day, or its beginning, we are a whole person naked in the dark. The personas we adopt, the subjects we choose, and the media with which we express ourselves are irrelevant. What matters is that we express, explore, and share who we are and what we discover.
What do you think? I welcome your thoughts.
Re-Release of Shaping Destiny and the importance of a good cover
As I work to complete my new novel (or rather, finish the grueling months of edit) I am also debating which publishing route to choose. It is not an easy decision as many of you well know.
Last year, I published Shaping Destiny. Celebrating the anniversary of the book, as well as everything I have learned since then, I am planning a re-release. The truth is, I cut my teeth on many mistakes. Not least of these was my cover design. Yes, I hired a professional, but he is a graphic designer, not a book designer. While the original cover is attractive and interesting, it doesn’t capture the essence of the book, the spine lettering is upside down, and nowhere on the cover is the genre. In addition, last year I knew nothing about writing a jacket blurb.
Thanks to wonderful readers sharing their comments and wonderful authors sharing their resources, I’m really close to the new cover design. I’m especially grateful to amygdaladesign@myopera.com and Ida’s work on this project. What do you think of the design?Please share your input in the comments below. What do you think of the design?
