Beth Navarro's Blog, page 2

Elizabeths on a Train: Looking out and Looking in

 In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.


 “I love the time and in betweenThe calm inside meIn the space where I can breathI believe there is distance I have wandered to touch upon the years of Reaching out and reaching inHolding out, holding in….”
Yes those are Sarah McLachlan lyrics (Don't judge me. SM was integral to my college experience and I will always love her!). I thought about them on the trip. On the train it’s all about looking out and looking in. Similar, I think, to what that song invokes. That song has always struck me. It hits me at my emotional core. The trip’s “looking out and looking in” was an extension of that for me.




I long for the space the write. I long for the space and time. I long for looking out and looking in. And I got all of that on the train, for a few days at least.
A big part of being on the train is the looking out. You can really take in the world going past you and absorb it, not just move through it tunnel-visioned. All hours of the day you could do this. You couldn’t help but do it.
Elizabeth and I speculated about what we might see looking out. We thought Kansas might be a head-down-writing kind of state. It had to be boring. We were wrong.




Look and see.
When we pulled out of Montreal there were graffiti covered city walls. There were brilliant orange and gold leaves in upstate New York. Unbelievable gorgeousness sound tracked by the soft whistle of the train and the tin-y easy listening in the dining car. The scenery once out of Montreal city limits was straight out of a Bob Ross Painting. Happy little trees everywhere.




We saw incredible sunrises in Ohio and Colorado. (Ohio was a place I was sure I’d be fine sleeping though. Ditto for Indiana, but nope they were beautiful on the train.) Everything was train beautiful. 


The glass ceilings and walls of the observation car allowed everything in. I loved seeing country landscapes change as we headed west, from autumn trees to rolling plains to red rocks to desert plateaus. 


Cows and horses peppered the Midwest and llamas and goats hung out in New Mexico. Taking so much in all day everyday is fulfilling and eventually overwhelming. Enriching and debilitating at the same time. You are seeing so much.




And in the looking out something interesting happens. You look in. Being on the train is the time to disconnect and then reconnect to yourself. I don’t think I was really prepared for the depth of this. On the train there are no home responsibilities. There is no real itinerary to stick to. There is you, the world and your story. And your story is there whether you are there as a writer or not. It’s incredibly freeing. You know those moments in your life that you feel a step forward? Where you understand yourself a little bit more in that life changing way? That’s what happened on the train. Being in that headspace was amazing for writing. My brain was open and ready. The outside and the inside became one and I was off.


Elizabeth and I took these pictures on the trip not sure which ones are her and which were mine, but I love them!

To see the "other" Elizabeth's posts about our trip visit her  website.

Annual Report 2015

Steve Kaye, the hummingbird photographer who I met on my writing train trip, inspired me in so many ways. But it wasn’t until I got home and pursued his blog that I found this gem. This is a brilliant idea I’m going to steal. Every year he does an annual report documenting his progress as a photographer. I love this idea. Something to break down what you did over the year, show the progress you made, see what worked and what didn’t. This is valuable information when figuring out how to tackle the next year. It’s also going to be great thing to look back on. So here it goes: my first annual report tracking my progress as a writer.

2015 STATS:
Number of words written (in novel manuscripts): 50,016
            I’m sure I erased and wrote and rewrote so this is more of an approximation, but I’m proud of this number. This includes text added to my young adult novel that is on submission with editors now and the new YA novel I drafted and revised this year.
Number of picture book words I wrote this year: 524
            Again this is an approximation. That’s what this book ended up at but man I rewrote those words so many times! I know 524 doesn’t sound like a lot of words. With picture books every word counts so finding the perfect 524 words is no easy task. This picture is very personal and very close to my heart. Looking forward to sharing it.
Blog posts written: 11
            The year started slow. I didn’t want to generate content just to generate content. I had a lot of novel writing to do so I really blogged only when moved to. I want to continue this practice but the train trip I went on inspired me so much I have about 10 more blogs posts on the docket just reflecting on that!
Books read: 25 books
            I want to up this next year. It was a slow start, but I definitely picked up the end of the year. I’m always reading something at home and listening to another in the car. I think one of my goals should be to clear to my ever growing “to read” shelf (Even as I type that I realize that is a hilarious goal). There are just so many books to read out there and sometimes I get sad when I realize I will never be able to read “everything” Sigh. But dammit I will try.
Writing trips/conventions: 4                        SCBWI Los Angeles Writer’s day, San Diego Comic-Con, SCBWI Summer Conference and the cross country writing train trip. All so inspiring.
Writing classes:1
            I took a one-day workshop with Francesca Lia Block. She is one of my idols! Her books made me want to write for young adults and her class helped me lay the foundation for the novel I wrote this year. It was such a valuable day! If you live in LA, I highly recommend taking one of her classes. For those writers that don’t live here, she does online classes as well!
Number of agents I sent queries to: 87
            Yup. You read that right. The publishing industry is subjective and rejection is inevitable. I researched. I sent to agents I thought would be a good match. I reworked my letter and my pages when necessary. I kept going. It takes only one yes. I proudly signed with my agent this year!
________________________________________________________________________
January 2015- The Art of Asking I loved this book written by Amanda Palmer. I needed this book in January. The year was starting out rough and I was drowning. Death in the family, doubts taking over my writing life and my regular life. Amanda Palmer’s book was a life preserver. It took me to shore and I picked myself and began.
Reading and writing while on my honeymoon in Hawaii

February 2015-Starting something new I hadn't started a new novel in a long time. This felt so good.
"Start now. Start where you are. Start with fear. Start with pain. Start with doubt. Start with hands shaking. Start with voice trembling, but start. Start and don't stop. Start where you are, with what you have. Just start." -Ijeoma Umebinyuo
I wrote a blog called Start.


March 2015-Your Infinite HeartAn opportunity arose to write a picture book. THE picture book. That one in my heart that’s been waiting to be written. I have a few stories of the heart waiting to be written. This one floated to the top and it was exactly the boost I needed.


April 2015- Stories connect us I had the opportunity to be part of Skype in the Classroom. I met with classes around the world and talking about stories. This was eye opening. This is why I do this.
I wrote a guest blog for The New Hollywood about this called Collateral Blessings.
My visit with an amazing class in Pakistan.

May 2015-Writing, Writing, Writing and marketing, marketing, marketingWriting: I was on a mission to get this first draft of Alien Boy out. A shift has happened. First drafts used to be hard for me. How do I get this right??? First drafts are now my favorite things. There is so much freedom here! I can write whatever I want.  WHATEVER I WANT. I can always fix it later. Doing this takes me places I wouldn’t dare to go sometimes.
Marketing: It’s a part of being an author. I love the new look of my website and pictures by the amazing Ragan Wallake. I also had the pleasure of speaking to the SCBWI Westside Schmooze about marketing with the fabulous author, Greg Pincus. 



June 2015- Exploring my passions
One of my goals this year was to bake a new pie a month. One of my friends happens to have an amazing food blog called Beauty in the Bite and we decided to collaborate! The Pie Lady was born.I also finished the first draft of Alien Boy. Finishing a draft feels so good.


July 2015- I heart process Despite the crowds, the sweat, the claustrophobic nature of that exhibit hall, I LOVE Comic Con. I get so inspired by the creators and the fans. The vibe is so motivating. There is nothing quite like it.
I get a good dose of process at SDCC. And I wrote a blog about it, I heart process.
The Walking Dead exhibit at SDCC.

August 2015- SCBWI Summer ConferenceI wrote this post after the conference ended: 
The SCBWI summer conference is over. (For those that don't know it's the Society of Children's books Writers and Illustrators) That conference is the place I feel most myself. The moment I enter those hotel sliding doors I feel tension fall away. I am with my tribe, surrounded by 1000 people who also love what I love. Stories. So grateful to be around people who totally get me. We value each other there. "What's your story? What do you write? What do you draw? What's yours?" And we do care. At least I do. It's place it's okay to scrawl down notes obsessively, daydream and believe. It's okay to talk about craft and process all day long. We are all in this together. I see that in everyone there, weather you are brand new, or a seasoned award winner. What always surprises me at the conference is when I can't think I could possibly be any hungrier for my writing career, my appetite increases 100 fold. I feel closer and closer to my goals. 
One thing I do that I think some might not understand is when I listen the keynotes, I write so much down. But it's not because a lot the things are new to me. Some are but not all. I write things down that I've heard before. Because writing things down solidifies it in my mind even more. I can't hear those important lessons too many times. "Work hardest" was a big one that carved itself even deeper into my soul with every pen stroke. My emotions feel right at the surface when I'm at the conference. It's actually right where I like them to be. It's invigorating. But that vulnerability is not sustainable back here in the real world. Walking out the hotel doors I feel the thread of magic from the weekend pulled from me in spools. But I keep enough to fuel me. Let's get to work.Thank you Lin Oliver and Steve Mooser.
Dan Santat speaking at the SCBWI LA Summer Conference.
After the conference I was ready to hit that revision of Alien Boy with all I got.
September 2015- Soul-mate agent!            I found her or she found me? Either way. It was an exciting month. Finally finding that yes and validation outside myself and outside my inner circle. She had wonderful notes for my first novel I wrote and I set forth on a rewrite and once that was done my baby is officially on submission, sent out into the world. Yikes and yay!


October 2015- Writing Train Trip This was a trip of a lifetime. For me writing goes with trains like pencils go with paper. It was everything and more.
Steve Kaye  who we met on this trip and source of inspiration of this annual report, said this on the train, “The people in coach are aggressively peculiar. The people in sleeper cars are deliberately peculiar.” AGREED.
I am blogging weekly about this. Find all the Elizabeths on a Train posts on this blog to read about this adventure. The other Elizabeth is also blogging about this, check it out on her website.


November 2015-InspirationI had the chance to go to an event in Long Beach and see my other writing idol, Neil Gaiman. Such a wonderful night. I had the chance to meet him briefly before the event and he told me, “Confidence is everything. Have that and they will follow you anywhere." I take that to heart.




I also took a great trip my husband to Solvang, CA, a little Danish town north of Santa Barbara. Inspiration found me there.
A story begins with this clock.This was at the medicine I needed to keep revising.
December 2015-RechargingThis month was about fueling the fire (reading a lot) and wrapping up first revision of Alien Boy. Getting some good family time in. Preparing mentally for the next year.


What this year taught me?I learned that working harder is the key. Not where I want to be yet? Work harder.
Some goals I’m thinking about for 2016 are: Reading more non-fiction, getting my next novel ready for submission and working with Francesca Lia Block one on one on my manuscript. 2016, let’s do this!

 What goals do YOU have for next year?

Elizabeths on a Train: Stations and Anchor Points

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.
Anchor: a source of stability or security  
Somewhere in the southwest

Our stops along the way became the anchors of our trip. A time to regroup and revitalize.
Montreal was our point of origin. I flew in, leaving Los Angeles early in the morning, and arriving in Montreal mid afternoon. This was a wonderful place to start the adventure. A foreign, beautiful city. I checked into the LHotel which I highly recommend. It’s a boutique hotel full of gorgeous art. I wish we had more time in this city. It’s so strange to be in a place where the people speak French yet we are so close to the US boarder. A foreign place so close. I wandered the town a bit before Elizabeth got in. We went to a Le Local a great restaurant. Then in the morning ate at café down the street while listening to Massive Attack. Our nerves and adrenaline were palpable as we took a cab to the train station, our first train station of the trip, Gare Centrale. It felt grander then it probably was. I think it was all the French signage and the people getting their shoes polished. We were so excited we had no idea what we were doing. We went to the information desk. “Where do we get tickets? Where it says tickets? Oh.” The station had Hugo Cabret written all over it. We waited in line for our train to be ready to boarded. I held the last of the Canadian coins I had in my hand I intended to give my girls as a souvenier. I rolled the coins in my palm. I told Elizabeth I wanted to make up a fantastical story to tell them about the coins. A tall tale. We brainstormed about finding the coins in a velvet-lined box in the corner of the depot by a man playing an accordion. The man whispered to me, “Behold the magic coins. Only the worthy find them. Give them to someone ready for a dream-like adventure." Off we go.


This place anchored me in imagination.
Our second anchor point was Schenectady. We rolled into this station around 5 in the early evening. We had spent our day on the train. Our first magical giddy hours of writing and reading and watching the world pass by. We had two hours to spend in this town. Enough time to grab dinner. Right outside the station was an Irish pub. Perfect. I had a large refreshing beer and bar food. Just what I needed.


The Schenectady station was…. interesting. We were definitely not in the city anymore. The waiting room was small and lined with plastic chairs. Several were broken and to indicate their condition was this:
The pig-ephants of Schenectady. (My next picture book?)
 We wandered to the stairway that lead to where the trains pulled in. It was scary to say the least. The Zombie Apocolypse stairwell, we nicknamed it. 



We shouldn’t have been surprised. We initially took the elevator down when we got off the train and we thought we would die in there. It was straight out of a horror movie set. When the door closed it did nothing. The stairwell wasn’t much better. It was dank and dirty. It had a locked and abandoned sheriff’s office at the bottom of it.
Rick Grimes? You in there?
But we hung out in this stairwell for a while. I think we liked it. In addition to the bugs that owned those walls, was art. Art on these dank walls. I loved it. I mean it wasn’t great art. It was actually very strange. But I loved it all the same. The station made me think that magical and creepy things happen in Schenectady. One day I will write that story.


This place anchored me in humor and adventure.
Our next stop was Chicago’s Union Station. I was most excited for this stop. This stop was my home. This stop was my childhood memories of meeting dad at the train station, the trips going downtown from the suburbs. And we had five hours there. 
This will always be the Sears Tower to me.We had spent the night on the train and woke up a few hours from Chicago. I needed this anchor. I was tired and a bit cranky (Me? No!). Sleeping on the train wasn’t the best sleep ever. I needed reinvigoration. This city of childhood was just the medicine I needed. We met my brother and his family in the station. I got to hug on him, my sister in law and adorable and energetic nephews. 



We had lunch a great Chicago diner. Felt the wonderfully crisp air and took in the view of the Chicago River and beautiful buildings. Stocked up on snacks. It was a great. Until I hit the wall. I felt like I was still on the train. Oh man. Where is that Dramamine? We sat in the waiting room along with way too many other people. I tried to close my eyes and that didn’t help. My brain felt like mush. The motion sickness was also making me home sick. I missed this town. I missed my brother. I missed my parents. It was a lot. I really wanted to get back on the train. I needed to keep moving. We got back on the train in the early evening and my mind was still jittery. I was happy to be continuing on. I wrote into the night and nostalgia was in the drivers seat. The motion sickness jitters melted away.


This place anchored me in memories.
Kansas City was our next stop. The first “fresh air break” we had. One where you can step off for a bit, but we are not to wander far. We had twenty minutes at 10 pm. And on a whim, Elizabeth texted her brother who lives there, who she does not see often, to see if he could run up to the station to say a quick hello. He said yes! I was dead tired at this point, but I had to meet her brother. We rushed off the train and headed into the station. Her brother, a musician I learned, was there. They hugged. We hugged. I eavesdropped on family conversation you usually don’t have in front of other people. It was short but sweet. Elizabeth was smiling so big. That made me happy. It made me sad I didn’t have more time with my brother that day.
This place anchored me in family.
The next station stop was a fresh air break in Colorado in the morning. We had forty-five minutes to stretch. We wandered to the train station and back. The air smelled so good. There is something about Colorado air. That air was medicine. I felt better. And we laughed because the first thing we saw was a cowboy talking about texting on his cell phone.
As seen inside the Colorado station.



This place anchored me nature and juxtapositions.
Albuquerque was the next station on the fresh air break schedule. We had forty-five minutes in the late afternoon. A number of Native American vendors set up stands on the train platform. They sold random things like National Geographics, a Fiona Apple CD and Sylvia Plath. I bought some turquoise earrings.




This place anchored me in joy in the little gifts.
 Our final fresh air break before home was in Flagstaff, Arizona. The home of my college, the place I lived for two years before moving out to Los Angeles. It was late at night. We only had about five minutes. Enough time to step off the train for a few moments. This place is the setting of a pivotal anchor point in my life. My first real time of independence and adulthood. Memories of the speech team and hours and hours immersed in stories and poems. The train blocked my view of the school. But I imagined it. Downtown looked how I remembered it. I remembered the late night eats and music. I said a little prayer. This was days after the shooting that happened on campus. I will always have a love for this town. 


This place anchored me in purpose.
All the anchors/stops on the trip informed my next writing session on the train. They were my fuel. Anchor points are found in writing too. They are points in the story that your characters make decisions, reevaluate things and change and power the course of the story. The train and its stops felt like a story on wheels that you were inside of. The anchors helped me find those parts of my writing. I’d hop back on the train, feel the wheels pull away from the anchor point. I’d put my fingers to the keyboard and go.


To see the "other" Elizabeth's posts about our trip visit her  website.

Elizabeths on a Train: Vulnerability

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.

Trains feel dangerous at night. A thunderstorm underneath you. Rails screaming. Whistles whispering. When other trains go by they feel centimeters away and the sound takes you to another dimension. The speed is disconcerting. You wonder if the conductor feels as tired as you do. Thoughts of derailment are very present. It reminds me of the time in college I had fallen asleep in the backseat of a van while my coach was driving us back from a speech tournament. I woke up to white out conditions. All I saw was snow and couldn’t help but think; What if we are crashing, tumbling down the mountain and I just haven’t felt the impact yet? What if sleep was still cradling me? 
 My first night on the train these thoughts kept waking me. AND what if we derail and no one can find my hard drive?? But finally I was too tired and I relaxed into the rhythm of the rails.
At night on the train you have to become completely vulnerable and give in to sleep, while a machine barrels you down man-made tracks or when at ten pm the train completely powers down in the middle of no where, the light from inside the train makes it impossible to see out, and we are pretty sure Dementors are boarding.
I don't know how to do a Patronus! Help!

Vulnerability is imperative when it comes to writing. Writing with walls up does not work. In fact I’m not sure why you would even want to write that way. Writing is the place I can be completely open with no reservations. When I feel stuck, most of the time I realize it's because I'm holding back. Once I allow myself to be susceptible to the muse, the barriers fall.
Montreal

The whole trip was a lesson in vulnerability and not being scared of that vulnerability. The night before my flight to Montreal I realized I had never flown to a foreign country before or to a place where English is not the first language. Even the Air Canada gates at LAX felt someplace I didn’t belong. Very fancy, clean, French over the PA, and they even have a Spanx store at your disposal. (If THAT doesn't say fancy I don't know what does. Maybe I should get some Spanx for Montreal so I don't offend the nation.) As I flew away from my LA homeland the landscape looked like an alien planet from above. Everything reminded me of the fact that I was facing the unknown. What business do I have going to Montreal? I thought ridiculously. But I embraced the fear and talked to people. When my travel mate was delayed I did not hide in the hotel room. I explored the city on foot and found beauty in the French street signs and beautiful buildings and my ears got cold for the first time in a long time in actual fall weather which was pretty nice.
Sunrise over Ohio


As with train riding, in writing if you let yourself be vulnerable, you wake and the sunrise is gorgeous. It is a secret ingredient to writing magic.

To see the "other" Elizabeth's posts about our trip visit her  website.

Elizabeths on a Train: The Deep End of Friendship

I was nervous to see her. I thought might cry. I knew I’d cry. She was so much a part of my deeply rooted love of story. In fact she is one of the deepest, strongest roots. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 
I have a handful of really good friends. Friends that even though we may not talk or see each other on a regular basis, sometimes years go by, but we pick right back up where we left off, in the deep end of friendship. Elizabeth is one of those people.



We met while working at Vroman’s bookstore in Pasadena, CA fifteen years ago (Fifteen years ago???). We became fast friends. We stocked shelves and recommended books in the children’s department and once and a while were reprimanded by our boss for talking. It was like sixth grade all over again. Our favorite thing was closing the store. We’d spend the last hour reading stacks and stacks of picture book galleys and pilfer the pile of young adult ARCs (advanced reader copy) to take home. We brought our secret writings into the open forming the first critique group I was ever a part of. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding spending a giggly night with me before the big day, drinking beer and enduring having to watch my brother streak the courtyard in celebration (I shielded my eyes). Those days were pretty wonderful.
Back in the day.
And then they weren’t. And then she moved away. It was a rough time for her to say the least. I understood why she had to go, but my heart did break a bit.
So much happened in the in between. I had two babies. We both went through a divorce. You know, the type of times you need friends like her near and she wasn’t. At least physically. But the support was felt over the miles.
We kept in touch over Facebook (Facebook is good for some stuff!). Earlier this year the idea of a writing train trip wouldn’t leave my head. I really wanted to do it. I mused about it with Elizabeth in a Facebook message and she wrote, Let’s do it! Why not?? Why not indeed. We planned over the months leading up to the trip. I bought party favors (because it’s not a writing train trip without party favors). We messaged each other with packing list items and travel reminders and countdowns. And by the way, you know you are traveling with the right person when you realize you packed the same book to read on the trip (Book club and a writing trip? Boom!).
I got into Montreal before she did and could not wait to see her. I passed the time wandering old Montreal and arranging the party favors on the bed so she’d see them right away. I drank glass after glass of Cabernet and ate an entire charcuterie platter. I was anxious, excited, hopeful.
Train trip favors!
We met at a lovely restaurant, Le Local, diving in with a long, long hug. We ate a late dinner giggling our way through. I sighed realizing I was relieved. We had picked up right where we left off.  Well of course we did. We could have talked all night, and our boss couldn’t write us up this time.

Fun outside the Albuquerque station
The train brought out the best in our friendship I think. I haven’t belly laughed that much in a long time. There was a lot of spontaneous singing and much creative brainstorming including our pipe dream of owning our own train just for traveling writer’s retreats, complete with a yoga car and fancy waiters serving great food. We came up with hilarious young adult novel ideas with titles like So Far From Normal and another called So Here’s the Thing. After seeing the Amish young people we thought that there should be a YA novel about Amish teenagers. We also came up with Train the Musical composed by Train (the band) of course. A ballad and rain drops running down a train window? Um that’s perfection. Train will be so stoked about this idea we think. We contemplated our album we could create called Train Sounds. We fantasized we were secret agents when we got the 007 compartment on the way to Chicago (I'm still bummed we didn't get a picture of that placard). We were sure we were sleeper agents about to be activated. “EOAT’s we need you!”
Elizabeth is adorable by the way. Example: She whistles a cute, not-at-all subtle whistle and looks around conspicuously whenever something strange or notable happens (which is often on the train) and writes in her journal.
I mean come on.... adorable.We were perfect travel companions I think. We both had a great fun together, but it was also super easy to go off on our own and do our own thing if that’s what we wanted. No pressure to be with each other 24-7.


The fun continued as days went on. We tried do planks and dips in the our compartment to do a little bit of a workout and let’s just say, that didn’t really work. I really wish we had a picture of that. We were laughing so hard I’m pretty sure the couple  in the compartment across from us through we were crazy. We had happy hour in our 9 and ¾ mugs. We had a great talk about gender and books/toys. “Glitter is for boys and girls right?” a boy asked her once. Why yes it is. Glitter it up, kid!!! We contemplated train tattoos to commemorate the experience, but a single train track just looks like an upper case “I” so… nah.
Happy hour
On the last leg home we both listened to The Raven read by Christopher Walken. It was sorta perfect.
I also told her I was sorry. When she lived out here she needed me more then I knew. I wish I had helped her and shielded her from a person that was destructive. I felt like I should have known. I wish I knew. Elizabeth, I’m sorry. You deserve so much more then what you experienced those years out here in California. Going to your wedding next year will no doubt be one of the most joyous experiences of my life. I’m so lucky you found Ken. And Ken is a lucky, lucky man to get your love.
We ended the trip where we began, so many years ago, at Vroman’s Bookstore. We got there early in the morning so we kicked it in Zeli’s coffee shop with hot chocolate and a giant blueberry muffin. We used to love to get the tomato feta sandwiches from here on our lunch breaks. So many memories were here, it was almost overwhelming for our travel weary selves, but it was perfect place for the train trip debrief. 
We sat close to the Vroman's door trying to act super casual and while waiting for them to open.We wandered the books aisles our old stomping grounds, familiar, yet unfamiliar too. We bought each other books as end of the trip gifts. I got her Bone Gap by Laura Ruby and she bought me S by JJ Abrams and Doug Dorst. We went to my house and took real showers (Oh my god that was the best!) and lounged on the couch watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The end was coming so near and we were feeling it. We were so tired physically and mentally so we were ready I think, but still. She lives one day and 13 hours away from me. I know. I google mapped it. That’s too far for a forever friend like she is.

As much as this trip was about writing. It was as much or maybe more about friendship.
This beautiful pixie can steal my phone and take a selfie anytime.

Elizabeth's on a Train: Pushing 40, Pushing Limits

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.
Our compartment The seats turn into a bed.

The train pushes you. Your expectations of comfort become more flexible. (Dude it’s so cozy in here!!!) Award-worthy silliness fills the gaps of lost sleep. Flattening yourself against the sleeper compartment doors to let someone squeeze by you becomes routine. In fact strangers in your very, VERY close proximity brings you closer and bonds you into an unbreakable band of train travelers. In turn, your writing wonderfully allows for anything and everything. Yep boundaries are shot. If you are willing to be pushed you can get to an amazing place. I knew the train would push me and I was craving that. Being pushed is what I need sometimes.

            People commented on this sweatshirt. "Oh you're not a... Oh. I see what you did there."
Why cross-country? Why now?
Elizabeth and I are both turning 40 next year. No one on the train believed this by the way. Countless times we heard how young we must be.
“Two young ladies going on this adventure alone!”“How old are you?” Pushing 40.  “NO!”
They thought we were so young. The average age in the dining car was probably 60, but still. We’d take it. And to be honest I can’t believe I’m turning 40 next year. That is actually happening. Remember when 40 seemed positively ancient? It doesn’t feel that way at all. I feel like I’ve had some life experience at this point yes, but I feel as young as they were thinking I was.
Forty.
It feels like the time to DO something. You know? Putting ourselves on a train bulleting across the country seemed like the perfect thing to do. I wanted to go on an adventure as I went into my fortieth year on this planet. I’m working harder on my writing then I ever have before. I’m pushing every limit and you have to I realized. To get what you want, you have to go after it hard. If I want the space the write, if I want that publishing contract, I have to work harder then ever before. At the SCBWI writing conference this summer, this was the message I heard on repeat from some pretty amazing writers and illustrators. (Dan Santat, Varian Johnson and Kwame Alexander, I’m talking about YOU.) And I’ve taken it to heart. I write in the early hours before my girls wake up. I write on my lunch breaks at the day job. I write at night after the kids are in bed. I write. I write. I write. If I want it I gotta do it. And dammit I was going to write on a train cross- country.



View from my desk


When you are on a train there is not much else to do, but read, write and point at things. So the focus felt easy. But like I said, the train pushes you. You’re a bit tired. You are not necessarily on your perfect meal schedule (which, I don’t know about you, definitely can mess with me. Hangry!). You’re not the cleanest you’ve ever been. (Showering is NOT luxurious or bruise-free on the train….) But it’s good. You’re at your limit and if you give it into the train’s push maybe you can see how far you can actually go.





To see the "other" Elizabeth's posts about our trip visit her website.

Elizabeths on a Train: Strangers on a Train

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.
I make assumptions. I think we all do. Hell, my driver to the airport assumed I loved Taylor Swift. Dude, I’m wearing combat boots. Don’t let my blonde hair fool you. (And I MIGHT love the song Bad Blood. SO WHAT??)


  
On the train those assumptions creep in. There are some characters, yo. But then you talk to people and the assumptions slide away in favor of something much more interesting.
Character list #1: Strangers on our first train from Montreal to Schenectady:
·      Overheard in the Montreal station, “I don’t understand how fucking people don’t understand how fucking important spirituality is.”·      The custom officials board the train. They are so serious man. “What is your reason for this trip?” We are writers. I mean it’s not work. It’s for fun. But it’s more then that. It’s…. “Uh huh.” He makes a note with no trace of smile of his face.·      We encounter very serious train employees. I feel like train workers should be more jovial in general. They aren’t. But the whistle is.·      The Conductor on leg one from Montreal to Schenectady! Oh my. When he comes on the PA with his super New Yorky accent, we know we soon will not to be in Canada anymore. “DO NOT use the bathroom right now. <Insert big sigh here> Do Not. Please.” Then a couple minutes later he gives a similar announcement. Elizabeth and I couldn’t stop giggling.·      Old men who haven’t showered. Gotta love public transpo.·      Sweet, but kinda sexist Amtrak dudes. “You girls are too young to be traveling alone!” I mean I’ll take the young remark. I will take it. But yeah we’re pretty damn capable.·       A disheveled man talks to the conductors behind me about how his hand got mangled in an accident then shows everyone who will look his hands that didn’t work.·      A cross dresser with purple hair and a lovely purple dress who passes E and I’s table. “I’ve read that book! Great book.” (Hollow City by Ransom Riggs) I wish we had suggested a book club for later that day.·      A woman stands up facing the window holding a small book the size of her palm. She prays as we pull into the New York station.·      We chat with a British guy (in a crazy zombie stairwell we discovered in Schenectady), hauling a huge backpack, who is traveling solo from Montreal to Vancouver.

After the first leg, we quickly realize the forgotten stranger factor. And for two writers traveling, this is inspiration gold.
There is something about being on a train with strangers. They move from the category of stranger to another unnamable one very soon after the train doors close. Camaraderie builds, even if it’s a silent one. You know each other in a familiar way. There is an understanding of sorts.


 Character list #2: Strangers on our second train from Schenectady to Chicago:
·      Aylynn, a beautiful and sweet attendant greets us as we get on the train in the evening in New York. She mets us right out side the sleeping car with her clipboard resting on her hip. “Two Elizabeths. I like that,” she says checking us off her list. She shows us to our compartment (Ooooo a small, cozy space that I’ve always wanted!) “You are expected for dinner in the dining car,” she tells us as we get settled. Fancy!·      You can’t avoid meeting people at meal times if you are in the dining car. You are seated with strangers. Our first dinner companions are a younger couple going to Ann Arbor for a wedding. They seem a bit of a mismatched couple. We have fun brainstorming a concept for a zombie night train movie with them. Eugene, our waiter, will be one of the stars.·      A lot of Mennonites who speak German board the train. One couple is so serious. They look like they felt so misplaced and not of this world. She wears a floral dress with a white bonnet and hiking boots. I wonder where they are going. She is not happy. A man, who I assume is her husband, has his arms around her protectively at all times.·      Our first breakfast companions are Alfredo and his best friend from high school, whose name has escaped me. We have a great talk with them about reading and writing. Alfredo is a writer and a teacher. His friend, an engineer, along for the ride. Alfredo tells us about an amazing writing residency in Italy I think we must go to. He tells us about taking his own daughters on a train trip when they were teenagers. It gets me thinking about how much the girls would love this I think. Especially Frankie, she longs for a cozy place to call her own. Alfredo is writing a book about how reading is important to writing and asks if we’d interview with him later about that. Absolutely!·      Off the train in Chicago for a five-hour lay over. We are super dizzy from being on the train for so long. Dramamine save me. We are so dizzy we think a woman in the lounge in Union Station has blue skin. But after a actual discussion about this we decide it's just a trick of light.·      We see an older man with a therapy dog. The dog scrambles under his chair when anyone walked by pissed to be there and scared as hell.·      We explore the Chicago streets and see my brother, my sister-in-law and my nephews who are dressed as purple minions for lunch (the nephews not their parents). Okay so they aren’t strangers, but they were such an anchor for me on this trip. The familiar among the strange. I’ll talk more about my brother in another post. I miss him and his family every damn day.·      Our second dinner companions are an older couple from Kansas City. He was a newspaper reporter. He vividly remembers writing about Truman dying. She loves writing, but feels like she doesn’t have time with her sixteen grandchildren. I tell her to write anyway.  Character list #3: Strangers on the Southwest Chief (the train from Chicago to LA):


·      We realize we had a 20-minute fresh air break at ten PM in Kansas City where Elizabeth’s brother lives. She messages him last minute and he can meet us for a quick rendezvous!  We sit and chat with him in the KC station. I’ve never met anyone in her family I realize and it’s nice to see her with him. There is also an unavoidable homeless fellow sitting across from us looking for bibles. I can only give him a smile. I hope that helps.·      A full on cowboy on a fresh air break in Colorado has his cell phone attached to his ear. “Did you get my text?” Interesting juxtaposition. Then later in the observation car he is set up on the laptop and once again has ear to cell phone glued.·      We sit down with Alfredo early the next morning and talk about reading and writing and importance of story. We exchange emails so we can keep in touch.·      #hotguyreadingonatrain You know the Instagram account? Yeah we see the perfect guy for that page. He looks like James Franco. He’s wearing flannel, a ball cap, reading Vonnegut, writing in his journal. Really? But then he starts watching Face Off on his laptop. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.·      We see Alfredo and his friend out the window leaving at Lomy, New Mexico. We knock but they don’t hear us. #godontgo·      There are Native American vendors in Albequerque selling jewelry, magazines and CDs.·      A dude plays a unplugged cream-colored electric guitar in the observation car at sunset·      A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle gets off the train in Gallup and walks into the rainy night ·      Our final dinner companions are a warm and wonderful couple. The man is originally from Ireland and the woman is from Chicago.
Character list #4: Strangers encountered the last day on the Southwest Chief:
·      At Sugar Pie Honey Bunch breakfast (that song was playing) we meet yet another great couple, Steven and Carol Kaye. He is a nature photographer specializing in hummingbirds. They are coming back form the National Hummingbird Society conference in Sedona. He reminds me so much of my Grandpa Hilsabeck. They have a similar voice and my grandfather was a photographer of nature as well. We talk about art and love and marriage. Steven says one of my favorite things I hear on the trip. “The people in coach are aggressively peculiar. The people in sleeper cars are deliberately peculiar.” AGREED.
This trip was an adventure in the seeing the country. This was a writing trip. This was bonding time with one of my best friends. The strangers, the oh so peculiar and fascinating strangers were a variable I did not factor in. And it was the crazy glue that held this trip together.
 

ChaTo see the "other" Elizabeth's posts about our trip visit her website.

Elizabeths on a Train: Forward Motion

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.  See right outside Montreal


As with stories and with life, you can predict and anticipate all you want, but until you move forward you will not find out the truth. We hopped on our first train in Montreal and had seven hours of uninterrupted writing time. I had an agenda for the trip (of course). I was doing the final edits and read through of my manuscript due to my agent two days after my trip ended. I jumped right in.


And the moment the wheels turned, the whistle blew and rails took hold of our car, I felt it. The forward motion looped in and secured itself in my chest and off we went.

On the train you are literally moving forward the whole time. The forward motion was so constant that it became part of my internal tempo. And then…. that movement carried over from the physical realm to the mental. I couldn’t help but actually feel progressive motion leading me…. somewhere, somewhere deep inside at the origin of the secured spot in my chest where the train’s motion took root. A journey within was beginning, moving at light speed and traveling galaxies.
The words flowed forward on the train with less effort it seemed, that root found it’s way into my brain and fingertips. In writing, forward motion is necessary. Keep going. Spit that draft out. Just go forward. Find the answer that way. Seeing the country passing by compelled the pen the move (but the bumps do make writing not the easiest by hand, but the computer worked just fine. Elizabeth and I imagined ink streaks on our faces if we had to handwrite then being super bummed at the end of the trip that we couldn’t read any of our brilliance. Computer, thank you for being so handy dandy.)


There was also something about the forward motion moving me closer to home the whole trip that was comforting. Journeying back home. It felt right.
Sometimes I close my eyes and try to remember the locomotion. And I can for a moment. I put my pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, and write.

Train travel is much like story telling. You are in more then one place at once it feels like. Other worldly. And pulled by a magical thread rooted in your heart.

Elizabeths on a Train: Anticipation

In October 2015, my friend Elizabeth and I went on a cross-country writing train trip from Montreal to Los Angeles in five days. Here are some stories, insights and musings that came from that adventure.
Yes I am one of those annoying people who think train trips are magical. I fantasized it would be part Wes Anderson move, part Agatha Christi novel, part Before Sunrise and part Hogwarts Express (minus the murder and falling in love parts). I noted I’d have to make sure I found the escape hatch once on board. And now almost a month post train trip, I assess that it did not disappoint.


I wanted some adventure as I headed into my 40thyear on this planet. A cross-country writing train trip seemed to be the perfect thing. There’s something about it that seemed exotic, literary and intrepid. So naturally I asked one of my soul mate friends who I haven’t seen in four years if she wanted to go. And of course she said yes!
My printed manuscript (that added some weight!)

As the trip got closer, the anticipation built. Unbelievable excitement, dreams of travel snafus and internal debates on how many notebooks to bring filled my days. Phone calls and endless texts with Elizabeth, my travel partner in crime, with nearly daily planning tid-bits and virtual screams of excitement (20 days! 10 days! 1 freaking day!). I prepared by reading articles about train travel (They all say it’s magical!) and reading the Amtrak website for information about the train routes itself (Oh my god this is going to be gorgeous). I found that Amtrak recognizes the enchanted combo of writing and train travel and has a writer’s residency program. I plan on applying for that in the future. I made detailed packing lists complete with check boxes and curated a wardrobe for the trip that included: Flannel shirt, jeans, moto style sweater, combat boots and glammed out sweatshirts. I printed out my manuscript just in case power was an issue. I was ready. I packed light, but smart. Let’s do this.


Then the day came. We were starting out trip in Montreal, which in and of itself was thrilling. I had never been there, they speak French and use money with fancy pictures! I was so excited on the plane I’m sure it read like manic and crazy. The attendants ignored me. Piled in front of me were three notebooks, my MacBook air and a book I was reading. Maybe it’s standard protocol to stay away from a writer immersed.
Ransom Riggs has some beautiful books.

The flight was filled with my imaginings of the train’s dining car where a suit-wearing waiter with linen draped over his forearm would reveal dinner by the unveiling of silver cloches. (Yeah I should probably have lowered my expectations.) There can be so much hope in anticipation and prediction. It drives me in my writing and was so very present on this trip.
What will Montreal be like?The train stations?Seeing one of my best friends after four years?The people?The sleeping car?Showering on a train? How’s that gonna go?Will my writing get caught in the magical web the train weaves or will I get distracted by the beautiful country we live in?Will the character in my manuscript see that he himself is worthy?Will readers see the hero my character is? Will they see themselves in him?
The anticipation brimmed over. “Something fantastic is about to happen” were the words running through my brain.
Exploring Montreal


 I mean, is there anything better then sitting in a Montreal hotel lobby drinking wine, dreaming of trains and words, eating charcuterie, reading Ransom Riggs, and waiting for your best friend to walk through the doors? I texted her: I cannot even WISH to see you! We found that to be an interesting autocorrect. Like I’m so excited, I couldn’t even wish for it. (Side note: I felt extremely guilty for not speaking any French in Montreal, but I said cabernet and charcuterie. That counts for trying right?)
Waiting!

And then seeing Elizabeth? That deserves it’s own blog post. It lived up to every expectation.
Writing and the train both constantly hold the feeling of “what will happen next??” This is what happens when you are not stationary. “Keep moving. Keep writing. Keep going,” the train taught me.
The anticipation adrenaline rush didn’t end after I landed in our starting point in Montreal. It’s renewed every morning, every new train, every new depot. It spilled over into our not knowing what the heck to expect of our short layover in Schenectady, New York except that everyone we’ve ever known always just says, “Oh yeah Schenectady.” What does that MEAN?
You can’t stay in anticipation. Next comes letting go into the experience. Relaxing into it. And there…. we found wonders.
Boarding our first train in Montreal. Look how happy I look!

Newsflash: Anyone can like anything

Author Shannon Hale teamed up with Bloomsbury Children’s Books this month to start the campaign #storiesforall. This made me so happy. Shannon gave an amazing talk on the subject of gender when it comes to books at the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators conference this past summer. She is a Newberry honor author and encounters “the boys books versus girls books thing” often. She has an award winning series of books called Princess Academy. She once did a presentation at a schools and learned that the assembly was optional for boys because “you know it’s a ‘girls’ book.” She’s seen the look on boy’s faces who come to her signings and love her books but are afraid to say so. These are also not isolated incidents. And she’s talking about it.
This is a subject that hits close to home for me. Not only with books.
When my eldest daughter started kindergarten we were shopping for school supplies. And she saw a cool metal lunchbox. She had to have it. It was Star Wars. My nerd self was quite proud of her. And she was proud too. She carried it confidently into her class showing anyone she could find her shiny new lunchbox. A month into school I noticed she put princess and My little Pony stickers all over the lunchbox covering the Star Wars graphics. I asked why. She shrugged it off and I left it alone. Then a week or so later she asked if she could get a new lunch box. Why? Because the kids at school told her girls can’t like Star Wars. My stomach sank. And this wasn’t the only incident. “I hate My Little Pony. That’s for girls.” Boys would tell her. “You like Minecraft? But you’re a girl.”
Sigh. Because if you listen carefully. What’s being said is not just: That’s for boys and that’s for girls. There is something else there much more damaging. I also hear: If it’s for girls, it’s not worthy of boys. If it’s for boys, girls are not worthy of it.
Target recently said they would stop separating toys by gender in their stores. There was actual outrage and confusion about this. “ But what will I do???” Here’s my guide I posted on Facebook to help these people out:
Steps to buying toys now that Target is not separating by gender:1.     Go the toy aisles2.     Have the child pick out what they like
End of instructions
Oh you’re shopping for a gift and feel completely lost without the gender labeling?1.     Go to the toy aisles2.     Think about what they’re interests are (Don’t know? Ask!)3.     Buy something you think they will likeEnd of instructions.

I worked in the children’s section of a bookstore for a while (loved it!) and I saw gender separation quite often. Heck we even had tables filled with books labeled: Books for Boys and Books for Girls. Many parents didn’t think their boys would want a book with a female protagonist. Although for girls I noticed it was fine for them to like a book with either a male or female protagonist. Back then when I was bookseller. I didn’t think much of it. After all those gender roles had been in place since I was little. We are taught that from a young age. I’ve heard, “Ew that’s for girls” more then once. (Girls say the same about boy stuff too. But not often when it comes to books or even toys for that matter.) And do sometimes girls gravitate toward some books and boys to others? Sure they do. But after hearing Shannon’s talk the gravity of perpetuating this mindset, set in and became distressing.
Because what that is teaching boys is that girls are not worthy to be their heroes.
Shannon said something to this effect and it shook me to my core. And as a bookseller I think I was part of the problem for a time. I know sometimes when asked for recommendation I would go the easy direction. Who’s the gift for? A boy? Okay how about this… Although in my defense I have recommended the heck out of Tamora Pierce’s Alanna series for boys. I wish I had done more. I wish I didn’t even ask if the child was a boy or a girl. I wish I just asked what their interests were.
Books teach empathy. It’s one of the reasons why I write them. Maybe if a straight person read a book about a gay person, there might be less bullying. Maybe if a boy read a book with a strong female protagonist, they might believe strong women matter, exist and should be respected. Maybe if a white kid read a book about a black kid, there would be less racism. To see yourself in a book is a wonderful and important thing. But to read about people different then you is also imperative. Because you begin to find in these books something past the obvious difference. You find similarities. You find compassion. You find understanding.
My daughter picking out any book she wants.

Gender roles are taught to my kids in school, really everywhere. It’s inevitable. I think, most of the time, it’s not meant in a malicious way. But anytime I can, I tell them: You can like anything. Anyone can like anything. You can do anything.
And this is not a hard concept for my kids to learn. “But make up is for girls right mom?” Zoe asks me. A lot of girls like make up yes. But nope. Anyone can wear it. “Even boys?” Even boys. “Really?” Really. She nods, accepts and walks away.

   Thank you to Shannon Hale to opening my eyes to this. I will continue to educate myself and spread the message. #storiesforall

To see more please check out Shannon Hale’s Tumblr. #storiesforall