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Down with Perfectionism

Down with Perfectionism

I am the teen who—before computers became a mainstay—rewrote entire pages when I misspelled a word. White-out wasn’t pretty. Cross-outs weren’t perfect.

I am the college grad who looked over my records with disdain, those A-minuses peppered throughout, mocking me with their negative connotations.

I am the woman who struggled to enjoy her wedding day because—while stunning, while beautiful—the reality didn’t match the months of planning, the vision in my head.

Before all of that, before all of the perpetual I am’s that stick with me even now, I simply was. I was the kid who didn’t know any better, who was happy, healthy—and free.

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Embracing Pure Imagination

Embracing Pure Imagination

Yesterday was my deadline for beginning to write the next draft of my novel, after months of re-plotting, restructuring, re-everything. I wasn’t quite ready to sit down and do it: the task of writing actual manuscript words, facing the reality of having to actually execute the story in my head, felt incredibly daunting. The night before, I was frozen in fear.

Then yesterday morning, the universe gave me a gift: I woke up singing “Pure Imagination,” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

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Writing My Own Ticket

Writing My Own Ticket

One thing I miss about commuting into Manhattan for work (the only thing I miss, really) is the train ride. Some people have their best thinking/brainstorming moments while walking, in the shower, cleaning up around the house, but for me, it’s “passengering.” Sitting still while in a moving vehicle (nothing to trip over, that way!), staring out the window, watching the world rush by. There’s something about that movement that frees my brain to whirl as rapidly, rushing from concept to concept, connecting thoughts and creating epiphanies as quickly as the window view passes from tree to tree.

This past week, I visited family in Indiana, and—as a starving artist who needs to finish her novel before even having the chance to get paid for the effort—I went the long, less-expensive route of taking a train there: Amtrak’s Lake Shore Limited line that runs from New York City to Chicago. I would be getting off in South Bend, merely 1 1/2 hours from the train’s final stop. The trip length would total 17 hours going, 18 coming back: I would have lots of brainstorming time!

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Wickedly Wonderful

Wickedly Wonderful

This past week, I went to see Wicked on Broadway for my brother’s birthday. It was spectacular, as always: I’ve read the book, know the music by heart, and have seen the Broadway show once before (for my birthday, coincidentally). This time, though, the experience was different. I suddenly saw in Elphaba’s journey that of my main character’s, one of being different and unaccepted by her peers. Elphaba’s storyline hasn’t changed, but suddenly it resonated with me in a whole new depth of feeling, now that I’ve had to put myself in those emotional shoes.

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Castles in the Sky

Castles in the Sky

Fourteen years ago today, our world changed forever. The United States was hit with the most violent terrorist attack that we have yet known, and this was followed by an increasing amount of civilian attacks around the globe. We could no longer pretend that we lived in safety, could no longer embrace idyllic, imaginative childhoods of the past. Our internal worlds became one of fear, of paranoia, of cynicism.

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Dark Clouds and Silver Linings

Dark Clouds and Silver Linings

“When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.”

~Maria, The Sound of Music

At the end of August, a Facebook TimeHop post from three years ago popped into my NewsFeed: a picture of my right foot in a walking boot with the caption, “My rockin’ new style for the next few weeks.” I was struck by two things: an amazement that the event that so drastically changed my life was three whole years ago, and a snarky observation that I was so optimistic then, not yet knowing the hell this injury would put me through.

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Let Boys Read Widely

Let Boys Read Widely

As a writer of middle-grade literature, I’m constantly browsing Amazon, Goodreads, and BookBub for new books to discover and read. This morning, I happened upon The Hidden Treasure of Glaston by Eleanore M. Jewett on Amazon. The book seemed interesting, a medieval mystery about a boy in search of the Holy Grail in 12th century England, based on actual Arthurian legends and historical events.

If I wasn’t inclined to read the book before, I most certainly am inspired to now by the vehemence wrought in me over one reviewer’s comment:

“Typical female writing that bogs the reader down too much with scenery descriptions and a bit of a challenge for the young male mind.” [Linked here.]

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Asking the Questions

Asking the Questions

Every few years, I like to revisit books from my childhood. These are the ones that have stood the test of time and are just as enjoyable now as the day that I first discovered them, with an added dash of nostalgia and the comforting feeling of returning home. I recently began rereading the Time Quintet by Madeleine L’Engle (though, truthfully, I still consider it a trilogy). I said a warm hello to old friends Meg Murry, Calvin O’Keefe, and of course precocious, intuitive Charles Wallace as I settled in for the journey that had imprinted itself so resolutely on my young self.

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Keep Looking Up

Keep Looking Up

Ever since I was young, I shared a love of astronomy with my dad. Looking at the stars was a way to see beauty in the world, organization amid the chaos, possibility in spite of all prevailing notions of “this is right and true.” Stargazing allows for us to feel big and small at the same time: we are just a blip on the universal radar—our everyday banal troubles are self-created and unimportant—yet we are precious; we are significant. We have yet to find life elsewhere in the cosmos. This doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, but it does show that it’s not a common commodity, and we should cherish ours all the more.

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Facing My Fears

Facing My Fears

You can’t hide forever from the thunder;
Look into the storm and feel the rain.

~Josh Groban, “Brave

I recently said goodbye to a comfortable job editing and proofreading at the United Nations to follow my dreams: To Write. To spend the best hours of my day working on my material and my message to the world. I’m incredibly fortunate to have the support of a loving husband, which makes this path easier than it is for most.

But that doesn’t make it easy.

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