Writing Roadblocks: Unanswered Questions

One of the issues I run into in writing a travel memoir is letting unanswered questions become roadblocks (pun intended) to my progress. Today’s topic was how to write about uncomfortable instances without sounding whiney.

I write on a personal level, giving a real-life point of view. I don’t sugar coat. I don’t make it seem like every day is full of glorious adventure. There are problems. There are mistakes. And yes, sometimes there is downright miserableness.

So, how can I be true to the real-life aspect and not sound whiney sometimes?

The goal is to show readers that it’s OK to acknowledge the less-happier situations. When you think about it, most travel books are written about wonderful sites, fabulous scenery, interesting places, etc. Yes, there is adventure and sometimes hardships, but most of the time, it seems like it’s all a fantastic time.

And, for the most part, it is. But, not everything goes as expected. Multiple issues may arise. There are disappointments. Sometimes, when in unfamiliar situations, fear and other aspects may cause emotional upheavals which can affect the enjoyment of the journey.

I want to show what it’s really like to travel; the good with the not-so-good. Not all parts of a trip are full of wonderful sights and positiveness. So, how do you get through that? Because, after all, the trip really is an amazing adventure and the good does outweigh the bad.

How do I deal with it? By writing about how I come to terms with scary situations and how to handle the unexpected. Yes, I’ll admit sometimes I totally fall apart in the moment, but I also use it as a learning experience. I ask myself how can I do better next time?

Each moment is an opportunity to learn, oftentimes minor, hardly noticeable. Other times, a situation can affect your mental outlook for a while until you deal with it …

Like that time within the first two hours of a trip when I almost got into an accident on a round-about. For the next half hour, I was paranoid about the thought. My mind spun ‘round of what could have happened and how my trip would have been ruined, until I got on a nice, quiet, windy, mountain road and was able to calm myself down.

The lesson here: Yes, I almost caused an accident, but I didn’t. At that point, I could have simply acknowledged thankfulness and put it behind me, instead of dwelling on it the rest of the day and being fearful every time I was in heavier traffic.

There are always going to be issues to deal with while traveling. We shouldn’t hide them. I want to talk about my full experiences and hopefully, if and when you get a chance to travel, something I may have dealt with will help you get through your situation.

The Writing Muse Has Me by the Throat

The Muse has me by the throat. She is on top of my head with octopus-like arms wrapping around me head trying to keep my focus on the writing. Her voice is a constant whisper in my ear about what to write about, how I can make the next move with the books and how to write better descriptions and developing the story-telling.

Coming up into Indianapolis on a storm-filled day

I continue making headway with the Wichita book (my third travel writing memoir book). Talking about it helps me focus and gives me the drive to work through the obstacles and self-doubts.

Yesterday, I figured out where I am with that first draft. I thought I was ready to do the last chapter, chapter 16, but I didn't have any photos printed of chapters 14-16, and I discovered chapter 15 was never finished. Photos help me remember situations and find words to describe the landscape and such. It still bothers me that there are things I have no words for -- descriptions of architecture, even things in landscape like land formations, types of rocks, etc. I’m always amazed and fascinated that things in the next state or states can be so different.

This morning I was wondering if I should spend time on a Writers Helping Writers FB page. They talk about everything and anything to do with writing. I've not paid that much attention because how and what I write is not usually discussed. But maybe if I ask, there are people on there who write travel memoirs.

Self-doubt soars when I'm floundering. I need some feedback as to what and how I'm writing. I need that push of encouragement and when others don't write the way I do ... It's not about being told what to do, it's more of a sharing of what we are working on. See, I can't even describe it. Hmmm, so how can I turn this "obstacle" into a learning experience to help me move forward?

I finished re-reading my last book “Too Cold for Alligators” (TCfA) last night. (I hope I can come up with such good titles for these next two books.) Anyway, I realized TCfA does have what it takes for a travel memoir, and the end IS very emotional, and I DID talk about what I learned and all. From what I can tell, it falls in all the parameters of travel writing memoirs. Yes, there are mistakes and repetitions, and I would love to rewrite it ... but as that's already been published, I should move on.

Another question I have is: Is it wrong to talk about the previous book in the next book? A friend who read the first part of the second book (I still haven’t come up with a title yet), because I went to some of the same places I did in the first. But I don't see why I can't talk about those places again. After all, I'm not saying exactly the same thing. The circumstances are different, my mind frame is different. Why can't I be saying, "The last time I was here, the beautiful camellias were in bloom and this year, although I'm traveling the same time of year, they've already turned brown and dropped to the ground. Still, this place is one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited. I love the ..." Plus, I also went to other places so it's not all exactly the same.

I’m in a different place mentally and physically now. The reason/excuse for travel has its differences. Yes, there are some similarities and I’m still dealing with traveling alone, learning to recognize what I want and to speak up. Similar, yet still different. I meet different people, circumstances are different. And it’s sharing – the amazing aspects of life and what’s around me and overcoming the obstacles and challenges that get in the way.

Writing and the Carousel

Sometimes I have so many thoughts and ideas running through my head, it’s hard pulling them together for a cohesive writing. My brain starts spinning. Do I follow this thread of thought or do I write about that other? The carousel spins faster, and the ideas get thrown from the horses to be lost in the darkness.

Last night I was asked a series of questions about my travel writing. All great questions which, although I’ve kind of touched on the various subjects, the overall topic is mostly avoided. I wrote the questions down, and later, while meditating, further thoughts on the questions emerged. Once more I have a list of notes that are related, but not written as a complete piece.

I have dozens of these scrap pieces of paper filled with notes to include in the books or other writings. I never seem to fit them in and yet, they would be integral to the story, to better understanding the writer, to further open various topics to readers, and to add helpful suggestions and tips. Too often these insights fall by the wayside because I don’t get them pulled together. I lose the momentum of that in-the-moment thought process, that flow of fiery creative writing.

Sometimes I get stuck trying to figure out where in the book this topic should go. Should I fit it into a chapter? What about the preface, prologue, or epilogue? Should it be its own chapter? I just can’t make up my mind. It just becomes more head-spinning and eventually falls off the carousel horse.

That said, I do make progress, and the ideas will cycle around. However, when the do, they won’t be exactly the same. It will be different time and space. But that’s OK. I continue on. I do the best I can.

Sasha Perspective on Traveling Writing

Sometimes in my traveling, I can’t find the right words to describe what I see. It’s rather ironic that a person who works with words has such trouble coming up with good descriptions. 

Then again, maybe it’s because I’ve not traveled a lot in my life. I am not familiar with other places. I spend time researching histories of sites visited, but to research types of landscape or architecture adds to time-consuming work when I just want to write.

I am not out to present a text/technical book. I write from a personal perspective with those bits of researched historical facts inserted. My books are not just about sites visited. The trips are not just about physical places. They’re about the total experience of traveling, and that includes all the emotional aspects of the journey, too.

I don’t want to separate myself from my emotions. I spent too many years hiding who I really am. I refuse to live that way now, and that is reinforced in my quest to live whole-heartedly. To share a traveling adventure means my readers get the whole package; the exciting times, the stressful moments, and the downright scared occasions. 

This is me, living whole-heartedly, and being a happier person because of it.

Photography this past week

I didn’t get to the drawing boards the last couple of days, but I did continue to take photos every day. I started a Photo-a-Day challenge in February 2016. It was only going to be for 100 days, but we were having so much fun, we’ve kept going.

The challenge came in handy after moving in 2015 and all the new house renovations in 2016. My art work went on hiatus and I was floundering horribly with my photography direction. The subjects I loved to photograph no longer interested me. Of course, most of those subjects were away from the house and I was staying home more and more because of the house renovations.

The photography challenge kept my heart in the visual creative field. It pulled my focus into subjects immediately at hand around the yard and I discovered it was like going on a treasure hunt. What joy! I never know what I’m going to find and I the smallest of details in leaves, flowers, old stumps, rocks, and such are intriguing. 

Ice formations in the rushing brook remind me of chandelier crystals

The brook, which can be seen out the sliding glass door, often catches my attention with its ever-changing flow. There’s something different to focus on every day. The view from the deck lets me look down on it. However, there are quite a few trees blocking making it difficult to get good pictures. The sound, though, is amazing! The roar as it tumbles over and between rocks is sometimes so loud I can hear it in the house and any conversation outside is with raised voices. 

Last week the warm temperatures melted all the ice, but this weekend with the returning cold, the water started freezing up again. The snow receded enough I was able to get down over the embankment. Gosh, that water was rushing! The new formations of ice were squeezing the flowing water into smaller channels between the rocks. 

I am fascinated by the ice crystals on the rocks. Some remind me of ice castle caves and others chandeliers. I took over 50 photographs trying to different views or the rocks, water, and ice. It’s fascinating how quickly it changes between one day and the next and morning to afternoon.

However, I am disappointed when I import the photos onto the computer. Once again, what looks fascinating in real life, doesn’t quite capture it in a small picture. The rushing water creates a blur when I focus on the ice crystals and if I focus on the water, everything else is blurred. 

What does this mean? 

One is that I need to make better use of the new camera. It focuses a lot slower than the old which is a nuisance when photographing wildlife. 

Two is the need to take more time while shooting the picture. I tend to be a hurry-up-and-move-on type of person trusting that I can use the computer to edit (most get deleted).

Three is to not let myself get too carried away in finding a lot of fascinating things to photograph. One the one hand, it’s, like I said, a treasure hunt, and how fun is that! But on the other hand, it’s time consuming to go through to delete and choose which to edit. 

All of this said, taking pictures brings me tremendous joy and I love sharing that joy. I post my one-photo on our challenge page and others I’ll post to my Facebook page so others can see. It’s my way of finding beauty every day.  

2016 – A Year of Growing Positiveness

I entered 2016 with lots of hope after the rollercoaster emotional ride of 2015. The selling of one home and the buying and moving into a new, smaller home left me drained and I wanted 2016 to be the exciting new chapters of a new book in my life.

Renovations in the new house continued with a custom-designed and built kitchen and a choice of unusual colors. I felt a driving need to surround myself with color. However, the work on the house continued to drain most of my energy even when I wasn’t doing the physical work. I didn’t have anything left to put much effort into writing, photography, or drawing. I felt the floundering of 2015 was ongoing. Where was I going in my art career?

But there was also a part of me that understood I had to patient because sometimes “… hope would be hope for the wrong thing.” I felt a change coming. I knew the inspirations and drives would return. 

The photography got a spark when, beginning February 1, a couple of us started a photo-a-day challenge for 100 days. I was unsure if I would keep up with it, but we were having so much fun, we kept going and are still doing it. Making time to take photographs led me into looking at things differently. It also makes me pay attention to the interesting beauty that’s all around me.

Spring came and I caught the gardening spark. Melissa, at Agway, said that plants they have early are OK to plant early, so I filled the back of my car with pansies, violas, English daisies, and Johnny jump-ups. I filled flower boxes and lined the back porch railing. Then as the weather warmed, I cleaned out the front gardens. I wasn’t sure of all the plants there, but I wanted more and subsequent trips to Agway had me filling those gardens and making more garden areas. 

The garage was the next big project and that led to creating more gardens as I strived to “Sasha-fy” my house. I bought lilies from The Lily Lady in Sutton and created a lily garden. The drought almost put an end to the outside garden projects, but a “water angel” offered to fill my rain barrels. She also gave me more lilies and I extended the lily garden. With her help, I continued to water the plants throughout the summer. 

In the meantime, I was reading books by Brene Brown and one by Doreen Virtue. Brown writes a lot about the same issues I like to talk about (and she’s done years of research). I wanted to “change how I think by changing what I think about.” I am highly bothered by commercialism and mistruths, false advertising, and all the depressing news we are bombarded with on a daily basis. Even though I don’t listen to the news or read about it, it still seeps in. And with the ugliest presidential campaigning ever, I had to do something for my own sanity. 

I began to redo the affirmation cards I made years ago using colored index card (still all about color). I post these around the house to provide constant positive messaging. I read some of them daily, often changing them around, and still occasionally making new ones. This has made a huge change in my demeanor.

Late summer had a new farmer’s porch built on the front of the house and the end of August into September had me driving to Wichita, Kansas, for my oldest grandson’s wedding. That turned into quite the 16-day adventure! The funny thing is I whined and complained throughout the whole trip, but once I got home, I realized how amazing it really was and how brave I was. I would do it again in a heartbeat! That realization and the commitment to experience more positiveness in life is transferring to the current book and I’m reliving the adventure as I write the story and edit the photos. 

I was inspired to get a Fitbit to motivate me into exercise. I am not so good at motivating myself and this is getting me up out of the chair and moving. I also joined Coach.me in which I developed a list of daily goals. I am actually doing more every day. I’m back to meditating, doing Tai Chi, I added leg lifts to my exercise routine, and because I have the online check-off list, I push myself to accomplish everything. I also cut back my caffeine intake to one mug a day (I like coffee too much to totally give it up). 

I wanted to share my new found positivity and desire to live a whole-hearted life and I came up with the idea to do these short “Dear Divine Presence” letters which I post daily on Facebook. One, this is my attempt to post positive messages in the face of all the negativity that bombards us on a daily level. Two, this is my way of giving back for all the wonderful things and messages I receive.

So, 2016 had a renewal in photography, writing, and mental well-being, but what about drawing? The desire to draw never went away for the two years I put the charcoal aside. I thought about it all the time, but never found the ambition to go to the easel. I had a number of unfinished drawings taped to various easel boards.

Blam! October slammed me new inspiration. I don’t even know where it came from (maybe from the Divine Presence prayers or just being more open to The Muse or…). I found myself at the drawing board and not only was I back to drawing, but my style has taken on a new persona, and once more, it’s all about color. The charcoal with just a hint of color pastel has turned into background layers of charcoal and lots of bright pastel color. 

Suddenly, after not doing any drawing since … well, I finished one I’d started in 2014 in January 2016, I did two drawings in a couple of weeks and a third by Christmas. The funny thing is, the four scenes are spring, summer, autumn, and winter, in that order. I hadn’t planned that. Now I can’t wait to see what 2017 has in store!

In closing, I would like to add that one of the most positive experiences of this year is the community support I’ve received. I was so hesitant to move to Hillsborough, but the people in this community have been so nice. People have graciously assisted me in whatever help I’ve needed. I am so grateful. 

Plus my very good friend lives across the brook and we get together once a week for Weekly Wednesday Winefest where we might work on a project (she’s been instrumental in helping me downsize and organize) or we just sit with our glass of wine and enjoy the most amazing conversations. 

It seems in today’s society there is less and less community. People don’t have time any more. We are human beings and humans need connection to others. We can’t save the world, but we can do our part to help each other. This is my goal for the coming year. 

Grieving for Christmases Past

I’ve been an emotional wreck these past three days. For three days, I’ve spent the mornings dissolved in tears; my heart ripped open bleeding more tears into my soul, and my head pounding from the stress. 

I’ve struggled with the holidays since my mother’s passing in 2011, but this year it sneaked up on me. I thought I was OK. This is my second holiday season in a house that does not have memories of her (except for her picture which I keep close by where she can watch me working). I have a lot going on and I keep happily busy.

Thanksgiving morning it hit me as I wondered if my sons would call to wish me a happy day. I’m usually the one to call them first, but on holidays, I would like them to call me. My oldest messaged to wish me a happy day and somehow that set me to thinking about past holidays and how, since my mother passed away, I choose to isolate.

Today it dawned on me that my vision of Christmas morning is of our house in Kensington with the tree in front of the picture window and sparkly garland tacked around the main living spaces. Presents (we always went overboard at Christmas) would extend from under the tree, to in front of the TV and fireplace, into corners of the living room. I picture my dad standing tall in his green, black, and white plaid flannel shirt, my brother and his wife, and the aunts and uncles. Mum and I would be in the kitchen getting dinner ready; the aromas of roasting turkey and various vegetables and more wafting through the house. And my sons would show up with wives and grandkids. 

Christmas was basically the same year after year – it was Christmas. It had been that way since I was young and Don and I were the only kids. But changes came as changes do. The older people started leaving one by one. My mum and I tried to carry on, but others wanted their own Christmas celebrations at their own homes on Christmas day. Yes, we were invited, but mum was stubborn and would not leave the house and I guess I’ve picked up that same trait.

So, five years after my mother’s passing, I realize I’m not just grieving losing her (and having her pass on Christmas Day!), I’m grieving for all our Christmases past ... because they can never be the same. I have total respect for other family members making their own choices. I certainly make my choices and stand by them. 

There’s no going back. New Christmas memories need to be made and while I may still choose to be alone Christmas day, today I have a better understanding of the grief encompassing me around the holidays. I’m getting better. 

A Holiday Revelation and Yet Another Issue to Work On

After five years since my mother’s passing, and more, really because there were the years of decline, the holidays are still tough for me. I’ve been blaming it on my mother’s passing, but wait ... it really started when both my sons decided they (and their families) would stay at their own homes for the holidays. They have every right to do so and I allow them their choices. I understand and can see things from their stand point. I know they love us (me, now).

Then when my brother and his wife also decided not to come any more, Mum and I settled into our “alone” holidays. Ma refused to go out, although we might have gone once or twice to Don’s for Thanksgiving, but Christmases were just the two of us. We stopped buying presents. Today I am realizing how much that still hurts; and how MUCH it hurts!

I’ve occasionally talked about this in past – a little. I’ve never told any of them how much it hurt and how much it hurts me still. Ma never talked about it at all. Maybe it hurt her more than she ever let on, and more and more she’d just sit in her rocking chair locked in her own thoughts. After all, Christmas, especially, was her favorite holiday and she so loved buying presents for everyone and having everyone come to the house. She lived to have a house full of family. Suddenly having the holiday day just being the two of us must have been more traumatic for her than I ever realized.

Maybe it’s time to start talking ... except I can’t without tears. Every year the season is full of tears. And I CHOOSE to stay alone.

I’ve been afraid. If I start to talk about how I feel, it will all come down to being my fault. I’m afraid that they will start pointing out all the things that I did wrong and where I was/am lacking as a mother and grandmother. I’m afraid that somewhere along the way I’ve hurt them. How can I ever fix that? How can I ever know that I didn’t do anything wrong? At least I don’t think I did. But I’ve always had to be true to my authentic self.

I have mentioned the poor mother/grandmother aspect before, but not so much about the holiday issue. I just kept telling myself that they all have the right to celebrate holidays as they see fit (and they do). I still love them no matter what. Maybe it’s only in my mind that there are issues.

This is something to work on during this season. I have to be gentle and loving with myself, as I am with others, and work on better understanding why I feel as I do. I thought I had this behind me, but evidently there’s more I need to resolve within myself.

The work goes on. I am Enough! I am getting better! I am a good, loving person!

  

Back to the Drawing Board (Literally)

The day before yesterday I went back to the drawing board – literally. I haven’t done a charcoal drawing in two years although I think about it often. 

The stand-up easel is always ready with a drawing board and a blank piece of paper attached. I also set up a table easel nearby, also with a board and a blank piece of drawing paper taped to it. There were a couple of photographs on the easel for a someday drawing. Neither were what I really felt like working on, but I didn’t feel like looking through photos on the computer and printing anything new.

I put a drop cloth under the stand-up easel, put on latex gloves (charcoal is messy), and got out a wide piece of vine charcoal. Returning to drawing is like riding a bike, right? You don’t forget. I began laying down the background. I used a lint-free piece of paper towel to rub the charcoal smooth for the sky and water; so far, so good with that first layer. 

I work in short time frames and after a break to work on my book, I went back into the studio. This time I put in a few foreground trees and leaves. These first steps are getting just the basic shapes and the darker values. Oh, wait, I forgot to put in the reflections in the water. I squeezed the shading between trees and once that was done, although not perfect, I was satisfied with the first day’s work.

Yesterday, I returned to the drawing board. I added color. I’ve added touches of pastel color in the past, but this time I want to do more color. Uh, oh, here’s where I realized I had made a very amateur move: I had already started putting in foreground shapes before fully finishing layering in the background. And, as I said, charcoal is messy – and so is pastel. Both media smudges easily and while smudging is used in layering, once I start putting in foreground detail, it’s harder to correct/change background without making a mess of the drawing. I reached the stage I don’t like what I’m doing.

So, what did I do? I started another drawing, a different picture, on the table easel. Jeez, I can’t ever just do one project. I have to have multiple things going on at the same time. I got the first layering done then went back to working on the book. 

I always go through a period of not liking my drawings. There’s that time frame between the thrill of the beginning and the excitement of the finished piece where I get discouraged and hate what I’ve done. I see all my “mistakes.” Sometimes I’ll walk away for days – the last time I walked away turned into two years. I have uncompleted drawings that I’d like to finish, but for this first time back in awhile, I wanted to do a new picture.

Usually, when I persevere and continue working, I get past what I don’t like and get a finished product which pleases me. There’s that sense of accomplishment. I can’t compare my work to anything anyone does. What’s ironic is that when I look at other works of art, I prefer the crisp lines and fine detail, yet that’s not how I work. Then again, one of the aspects of my work is in creating the “illusion of detail.”

What also amazes me is, after I’ve been away from the drawing for awhile, what I notice in the picture I’m working on compared to the photograph I’m using as a guide. Why didn’t I notice the reflection came over farther? Why didn’t I see that branch bent the other way? How come I didn’t see that tree should be taller?

This never fails and it intrigues me. Luckily, I’m not trying to do an exact copy of the photo. The photograph is just a guideline to the drawing. I still want to capture the essence, though, and I want to have sizes proportionate. 

And so, the work continues. 

Writing although my Brain is on Overload

I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed lately with all I have/want to do that my brain is on overload. I’m all over the place (in my head) and I struggle with decision-making. I plug away at putting together the latest (at the moment I’m just blogging the story) book writing which will be put it together in a “real” book later. 

Thoughts in my head go ‘round and ‘round until they spiral downward and I crash. There are so many projects and I keep switching the pots from burner to burner, but nothing is getting done… or so it feels. People talk about multi-tasking, I multi-brain task. That just causes frustration because it doesn’t get work done. Sometimes it feels my head is going to explode with everything going on.

Last night I read something interesting. Unfortunately, I was bouncing back and forth between a couple of books and I can’t find where it is I read this. It was something about listening to God and making room in your thoughts to hear the messages. I wish I could remember what she said, but how I interpreted it was: How can I hear what God (angels, spirits, Muse… whatever) is telling me if my head is too full of all that spiraling chatter that is constantly going on inside me? And even if I could hear it, how could I tell it was a “message” when it’s jumbled in with all the other stuff?

This morning as I was journaling, I realized that it is here that I usually get those flashes of what I call Muse-inspired ideas. (Not so much lately as my mind has been so overwhelmed). I think this is because when I’m journaling, my mind is more focused in recording yesterday (less full of crap at that moment) and I’m open to the flow of words. (And also why I work better in the early mornings before my head gets full of everything else in life.) (I know, this doesn’t make exact sense; it’s not quite “it.”)

Hmmm, let me see if I can take this further. I pride myself for being an in-the-moment person, but sometimes, the spontaneity backfires. There’s too much going on, too much I want to do. Decision-making gets harder as thoughts in my brain tumble over one another. I get caught up in the spiral and can’t get out. I crash and burn. The work I do isn’t satisfying. I feel I’m hurrying through it and that leaves room for mistakes or forgetting things. And the spiraling goes down as my thinking gets all tangled and piles up like a clogged drain. I lose the flow.

So, how can I resolve this? Make more to-do lists? I love lists, but the list grows long, quicker than I can cross off items accomplished. Hmmm, the lists, too, are jumbled; a little of this, some of that. It all has me bouncing around.

This almost makes me envy my friends who are more linear-thinking and focus on one task at a time until their projects are done. I am not like that. There has to be a way for me to straighten myself out and continue doing work I love. I’ve come up with a couple of ideas this morning. One has to do with making project lists with each project on its own sheet of paper. This may help me keep my mind (and physically see) the accomplishments I make with each project without other projects getting in the way. It’s a small step.

And another thing I have to stop is letting myself THINK about all the stuff I have to do. Whatever project I’m working on at the moment is the only one I should be thinking about. That doesn’t mean I can’t work on that then go off on another project later. But when I go on to the next project, I need to only focus on that one.

I still have to be me!

Countdown to Leaving Day Continues

Work for the week over, I am back to getting ready for the trip. I have to work hard to keep the panic down. I don’t feel ready – but I will be!

This morning I dug out the old Tracfone and a recorder I bought for my January-February 2015 trip. I haven’t used either since. The Tracfone doesn’t seem to be charging. I bet I’ll have to get a new one. I may not use a cell phone around home, but I need one while traveling. It’ll be off to Radio Shack tomorrow, I guess.

I changed the batteries in the recorder. I didn’t make good use of it on the last trip. This time I want to use it for making notes as I’m driving. I hate it when I forget something I saw. Often there are just little things like something in the scenery, a funny sign, or a place I might want to visit sometime. 

I keep looking at the atlas, but the route is pretty much decided, unless for some reason I take a detour. I love maps. Of course, it’s always a worry that I’ve missed something and I’ll mess up. I won’t.

I have a huge list of things I need to get done before I leave – and leaving is only three days away (that is if I can get out of here on Wednesday, which I’d like to). I have crossed off one item on the list of 16 as of this moment, now a second, but I added another.

Tomorrow I’ll do laundry and that’s when I’ll pack clothes. I’m not a dressy-up person and I worry about wearing a dress. Will the family be disappointed if I’m not in a dress? I don’t wear dresses well. I do have an old dress that’s really beautiful – as long as I’m not wearing it. I’ll try it on and if I don’t like it, I’ll have to stick to pants and shirt. They’ll have to take me as I am.

But I think they know that by now.

Searching for Direction and Purpose

For someone who writes all the time, I feel like the loose end of a rope in hurricane winds. I’m just flopping around going every which way. I’m very passionate about my writing, but my topics are all over the place. I can’t seem to find one clear direction or purpose. It bothers me because how can I ever develop a solid audience if I’m not focused.

I am ruled by my emotions and most of my writing comes from whatever emotion is stirring me at the moment. Today might be something I read that ignites the spark in my mind, tomorrow could be about gardening or an adventure I go on (even if it’s something that strikes me while running errands), and the day after that, my mind could be on fire writing about a comment someone made.

If I can’t feel what I’m writing, the words and stories mean nothing to me. Even the news articles I write for the paper or a magazine must stir my emotions and be a subject of interests. 

I have to admit that I purposely work emotionally. That’s what fuels my passion to write. I take topics and explore them with words and feelings. I consider hows and whys. But the issue comes down to publishing. How can I write more books when I operate with a lack of specific purpose?

I wrote “Too Cold for Alligators” and when it was time to publish, I had to choose a category. It was disheartening to realize that how and what I write does not fit into one category. And yet, it’s very exciting to me to write this way. I don’t want to be put in a box. I want to add poems, pictures, segments of history, maps, and such to my stories. Why does that have to be a no, no?

I wrote the second travel book – well, partly travel, but including the above parts, too. And this is where I… fumbled. I don’t want to spend the hundreds of dollars to have the book not be successful. I put it in the travel category and travel readers are disappointed because it’s not a normal travel-writing book. If I mention poetry then people who don’t like poetry won’t read it. I can’t refer to self-help because I won’t tell people what to do (if something in my story stirs them in a direction or helps them deal with a situation then I’ve done my job). 

I can’t even fully explain why and how I’m road blocked – because I absolutely refuse to do what every other author does. Am I a failure? No, I’m sticking up for what I believe. I’m sticking up for me! I am not a cookie-cutter writer.

I continue to journal daily and I write an occasional blog. I write emails to friends and I write some stories for the newspaper. I have thousands of pages of various other writings that mean something. My mind has been stuck on how to organize it all into cohesive subjects to put together books. I remain stuck. The task is daunting.

There is something within me that is driven, though. I feel pushed to make this happen. I 100 percent believe my writing serves a purpose. I may not be able to state exactly what that purpose is, but the desire to do it pulls me apart because I’m not getting it all together. I have hard copies of some filed in various folders. There are hundreds of writings in various places on the computer. And I’m writing new things.

Last night’s reading of “The Courage to Create” by Doreen Virtue stirred something within. She wrote, “You can’t water down your original idea to make it conform to normal.” I’ve never been “normal.” I’ve never wanted to do exactly what everyone else was doing (and maybe why I had few friends in school). For me, to “water down” my creativity to be “normal,” is like chopping off one of my hands. 

This insight has not solved my issue with direction and purpose with my writing because I still don’t have a specific category to fit my writing into. But getting an affirmation to be true to my own style of creativity has ignited the spark again. The door is open.

Another Tough Lesson Learned

I took on a commission job to help someone. I jumped in with both feet eager to help and share my expertise. However, it did not go so well. I over stressed and was frustrated. I crashed and burned. It wasn’t totally my fault, but I was devastated to have failed, or think I failed in someone else’s eyes. I didn’t fail. I stuck with my integrity! I put a lot of time into this project.

I don’t like to let anyone down, but I need to be true to myself. It is what it is. I got out my big drum and drummed away the negativity. I meditated, settling into the spaces between the sounds after I stopped drumming. (Sounds weird, but it’s a cool experience.) After awhile I got up and went outside to do Tai Chi feeling the wet earth on my bare feet; ground and center, ground and center, work with heaven and earth energies. 

Back inside I picked up Doreen Virtue’s book “The Courage to Create.” I didn’t get far in the current chapter because the words jumped off the page at me. Talk about fitting the situation! I grabbed a pen and began writing a few affirmations:

• Distraction is a time-waster -- (I let this other “job” distract me from my real work)

• My creative passion is so strong I don’t want to do anything else! – (When was the last time I felt this way? When was the last time I did MY art work? I let everything distract me.)

• My passion for MY work will cause my audience to be passionate about it. 

• I am emotionally satisfied with my work. – (Again, I haven’t really done anything recently about my personal art work and I’m missing it.)

• My work must be a natural extension of myself. – (And I realized this other job was not natural for me. Yes, I did have some passion because I wanted to please, and there was a writing aspect, but it wasn’t a comfortable fit.)

• Perfection is impossible. – (I still try and I’m devastated when something doesn’t go right.)

The distraction, which I allow, is causing too much stress. It’s time to get my act together. I need to decide what’s really important and make sure I do it. Yes, I love Facebook and email and it helps me to not feel lonely, but it’s too distracting. I have to get away from the computer and spend time in front of my easel.

I’ve already made some moves in this direction by spending time in the flower gardens. Now I need to make time to draw. I can do it!

Being Unlovable

I couldn’t work outside in the garden yesterday due to the rain. Sometimes Sundays tend to be my “lonely-feeling” days, especially when I’ve spent time with family or friends the day before.

Mid-afternoon I was taking a Spider Solitaire break and I started thinking about love. My last lover, a guy I dated for 22 years, never once EVER said he loved me. He was more apt to call me stupid than give me approval. Yes, I stayed with him all those years. It was a conscious choice and we did have many good times and it was with him that I got the travel bug.

After he left was when my mother started to decline and I chose to give my attention to her. It was Ma and I for the next 15 years and when we moved to Bradford, my life was also taken up by being an artist, writer, and photographer. I didn’t have time for, nor want, a lover in my life.

I can’t remember the last time anyone said, “I love you.” Oh, family does the “Love you” when saying goodbye on the phone or in emails and such, but when was the last time I felt loved, truly loved? When was the last time I felt someone really cared for me? (Yes, I have family and friends, but that’s a different kind of love.)

Does that mean I am unlovable? I stop to think about it because I never took into consideration that I am unlovable. I just kept the belief that I don’t have room for a lover in my life. But if I do think about it and I’m honest, what man would ever want to spend time with me now? I have nothing to offer and what most men want, I am unwilling to give.

So, does that mean I am unlovable? How has the past shaped who I am today? And can I say, physically and mentally shaped? Yes, this is about choices that I have made in the past 20 years.

Hmmm, this is a subject I’ll have to think more about.

Time in the Garden

It’s the first week in July. I should have started writing this in April. My gardens are not where they should be by this time of year. This is the first summer in my new home. By the end of next month, I will have been here a year. It’s been a year of renovation and living in clutter. One area gets cleaned up and organized, but then it gets messed up again in fixing somewhere else. It’s getting there and the newly added garage is a huge help in storage space. But I digress. I want to talk gardens.

The house came with a seven foot deep swath of gardens on either side of the front stairs. I recognized rhododendrons, lilacs, roses, and azaleas. I remember from last summer that there were some wild flowers: goldenrod, black-eyed Susans, yarrow, and daisies. Along the slab is a single row of day lilies.

It’s been fun seeing what’s coming up and some of the plants are still not yet identified. I think there are some daisies. I’ve weeded out sheep sorrel, wood sorrel and tiny oak and maple trees. Right now I’m debating whether to pull the wild strawberry. There’s a lot, especially on the front south side (the front of the house faces west and gets a lot of afternoon sun). 

The garden is straight-lined (like the house) and I’m trying to create more of a curve. The guy who rebuilt my kitchen and built the garage also likes to do landscaping. He’s going to build a front walkway and we’ve discussed how to do a slight curve to work the walkway with the new part of the garden. 

I’m at the stage of the game in my life where my body doesn’t allow me to do a lot of physical work. Too much of the past years have been spent sitting. My knees are shot, my feet, hips, and back hurts. I break up my day now by doing a little writing, then going out to the gardens. I get outside before the sun gets on that side of the house.

Yesterday I took white spray paint to the cement deer I’d painted brown the other day. I added the white to the chest and inside the ears. Spray paint isn’t exact, but it’s quick. I’m determined to add brightness to dull-colored items in the yard.

I loaded the wheelbarrow (which I spray painted purple on the outside) twice with mulch and started putting that to the right of the front steps. The left side is mostly done except for the very front of the garden to which I am extending to add that curve. I’m putting a layer of newspaper down first to help keep the weeds down.

I didn’t like where the hose reel was, so I moved that over a bit maneuvering it between iris, day lilies and an azalea. I pulled out quite a bit of wild strawberries, but left some. Two loads were all I could manage before my body screamed for a break.

This side of the house is too sunny and hot to work during the day, so I do my inside work. I’m in the process of making a gardening manual of all the plants in my gardens. I’m gathering info from websites and writing my own version which I print (along with a photo). This way when I want to know something about one of “my” plants, I don’t have to thumb through a book with pages and pages of what I don’t have in my yard. It’s a slow and tedious job, but it’s also teaching me a lot about the plants.

I don’t get back outside until 5:30 p.m. I deadheaded and watered the flowers in the boxes on the back deck first. Out front I debated about more mulching, but decided to deadhead the big hanging planter. 

I got a folding chair from the garage and set the planter on the bench on a bigger pot so the height was easy for me to work. Petunias are sticky things and I got to it. I hadn’t deadheaded this in a couple of days. They are mixed in with calibrachoa (which look like small petunias, but are not). This kept me busy for awhile. The little latch-thing broke on my favorite snippers. Now I can’t put it in my pocket. 

I felt a bite on my leg and looked down. Drat! Ants! There are so many ants in my yard. They are everywhere and they are swarming. (Do they call that swarming?) Anyway, if I stay in one spot any length of time they start crawling on me and they do bite! I’ve put a ton of ant stuff down. I think they like it. (Just like that animal repellent spray seems to attract the squirrels and raccoon.)

I finished the big pot and did a smaller and watered both. I also watered the rest of the flowers in my gardens.

I have a long way to go before I can be considered a gardener. I’m struggling with these plants that say they like full sun, at least 6-8 hours a day, but by late afternoon, they are looking burnt and wilted. 

See-Sawing a Garden Project

One minute I’m up, the next minute I’m down. Maybe I’m breathing in too many spray paint fumes.

I’m working on a big project and other projects are suffering. But I know me. If I don’t finish this, it’ll fall by the wayside and I’ll never get back to it. I feel I could work 24 hours a day and I’d still feel behind and chaotic.

The current huge endeavor is gardening. The house already had two flower gardens on either side of the front door. They were 7 feet deep rectangles with one side longer than the other due to the house layout; plain, square-edged rectangles to a plain, square-edged house – boring and unappealing. 

It’s a bit exciting waiting to see what comes up, but in the meantime, I went to the local Agway a couple of times and spent way too much on annuals and perennials. Even before I had them all planted, I began making my own garden manual. If I want to look up a plant in my yard, I don’t want to thumb through hundreds I don’t have. My goal is to list every plant, have a write up about it (gathering info from websites on plants and plant care). A timely job for sure, as I’m also taking photos and adding pictures to better know the plants.

A couple hours a day I’m outside playing. The guy who built my garage helped me fix up a new flower bed in the middle of the lawn incorporating the crabapple tree that was already there. He did the cutting in and taking the grass off the top, then we mulched. I had already planted a couple of flowers in that area and we added a couple more. (My body just won’t handle that much physical labor any more.)

I’ve finished researching the plants I bought or brought from Bradford; although I eventually want to get photos of leaves and seed pods. There are a couple that if I don’t deadhead every day, I can’t tell if it’s a new blossom coming or a seed pod. Now I’m to the point of trying to identify what’s coming up in the older gardens. Some I recognize and some I don’t. Some I remember from last summer when I moved here: black-eyed Susan, goldenrod, yarrow, and, of course, I know roses, azaleas, and rhododendrons.

I’m learning that some plants like to be mulched up close while others like a couple of inches between the mulch and base of the trunk. There are different kinds of fertilizers for some while most do well with just Miracle Grow. I’ve even learned that coffee grounds are great to use around some. (‘Course I still have to look up which is which for now, but eventually I’ll remember and know.) 

Some plants want dry soil, some moist, and others need daily watering. I’m still struggling with if it says to plant in full sun, why do the plants wilt in the afternoon? There are plants that in these dry conditions need to be watered morning and evening (mostly those in pots and flower boxes). 

But I’m getting better and this property no longer looks like a cookie-cutter, boring-colored place. Oh, and the spray paint? I’m adding color to all the lawn ornaments, feeders, poles, and flower boxes. I intend for my yard to be bright, colorful, and happy.

A Legacy Ends

Entering the cool, dark tunnel of Ruggles Mine on Islinglass Mountain in Grafton doesn’t even give a hint of what’s to come. Glimmer catches my eye even in the near dark. I take my time getting down the steep incline carefully maneuvering camera, pail (pitifully small compared to the size buckets some people brought), and walking stick. The tunnel winds downward, turns, and I get a first glimpse of how deep this mine is. 

A few more steps and I emerge from the tunnel into the bright light. I look up from watching my footing. The size of the open pit is stunning! This isn’t a little hole in the ground. Flashes of light are everywhere as the sun reflects on the many shiny mica, quartz and feldspar surfaces. Openings in the walls at various levels are caves, caverns, and more tunnels of past excavations. Some are narrow and round while others are tall and wide. Many are inaccessible while there are those that allow an explorer to delve into the dark depths. 

I continue on the descent. Do I look at the walls or the ground at my feet? It doesn’t matter as there is sparkle everywhere and the ground at my feet is just as intriguing as the walls which go up and up and up. 

The incline becomes steeper and I choose to use the stairs to the side still being cautious of footing. The stairs have a short rise which is easier on bad knees and short legs. A tumble wouldn’t only be embarrassing it would hurt – a lot – as my mind pictures my body toppling down the hill. I pause halfway down and look to the wall above one of the caverns where ravens nest. Did they nest here this year with no one to look out for them? The huge stick-build structure is empty. I find one small, black feather – perhaps they did.

Already I notice other differences. Though I’d only been here a couple times in the past, there are signs that things are not the same. The neglect shows. The winters take their toll here and the trail is rougher and not as clean. (Debris was always cleaned up in the past and the trail smoothed out as best as possible.) Falling rocks have not been cleared away. It would be easy to step wrong and twist an ankle. I pause for another breather and to take in the sight. It’s still a long way down. 

I debate about writing an impersonal, just the facts, piece or being more personal, but with over 200 years of history, I don’t need to repeat what has been said. Oh, it definitely is fascinating and I could go on and on. 

The mine, bought by the current family and opened in 1963 as a tourist attraction, closed in the fall of 2015, and is now up for sale. Perhaps it is my own sadness at changes. I did an interview with a couple of the owners in the spring of 2014 for the InterTown Record newspaper. They both had wonderful and different stories; she with growing up at the mine and he with a more geological take on the mine. She and I had wonderful conversations as she talked about what it was like as a child growing up in a mine. He gave a personal tour with not only a history lesson, but a fascinating geology lesson as well – priceless. They worked so hard to make this an enjoyable experience for the public. I could have happily spent days with them!

Another difference today is the free-for-all feel. Yes, it is free as this open house, held by the realtors, is a last opportunity for people to explore the mine under the present ownership. (It is hoped a buyer will step forward and there is some interest; whether it would remain open to the public – who knows.) This day there is no one watching and visitors take the advantage to explore areas not previously open to the public. Plus, they can haul out whatever rocks they can carry.

The chink of hammer on rock and children’s excited voices echo off steep walls and through tunnels and caverns. The sun beats down in the open pit and some people are flocking to the dark caves to get cool and explore. (The smart ones brought flashlights.) I don’t take any detours this day. I have all I can do to make it down through the south tunnel and then get back up.

Again, I look up and up at the walls and see the tops of trees over the top. That the excavating (by hand) actually began in the 1800s way up there is intriguing. Mica and feldspar were the two main minerals mined here, but there have been over 150 others found. 

Sweat runs down my back and the pail grows heavy. What I wouldn’t give to haul out some bigger pieces to put in my gardens as mementos. I’ve always loved rocks. They don’t have to be expensive, just pretty to me. I don’t even have to stray off the main path as what is at my feet is fascinating. 

Another rest over, I trudge onward and farther down entering the south tunnel. This area is a frozen glacier in the winter and flooded in the spring. Even now there are wet, muddy places where the water trickles down from the first cavern and other places. Some people pan in the stream finding pieces of beryl, quartz, pyrite, or garnet. People are exploring the caves off the tunnel.

I finally emerge into sunlight again, pick up a few rocks, and pass under another rock cropping onto the flat area at the end. Time to turn around and head back up. 

The climb up and out is much slower. I stop often and chat and joke with others. I tease one young girl in a walking cast that she should have a walking stick like mine. Everyone is friendly and eager to tell of their finds. Some have been here many times and others are first-timers taking the opportunity of the free day.

I get back to the entrance red-faced, extremely hot and thirsty. The line of people waiting to go into the mine extends well into the parking lot. I chat with a friend, grab a free cheeseburger, and head back down the mountain. I am shocked at the number of people still arriving. An hour and a half into the open house, the parked vehicles and people on the road extend over a mile, halfway down the mountain and from there a line of cars is still coming in. Many were turned away. 

I hope a buyer is found and they continue the legacy of allowing the public the opportunity to do their own prospecting.

Time Frame to Kansas City, Mo.

June 6: Google Maps says 20 hours, 38 minutes to Kansas City, Mo., taking I-90W and I-70 W for 1,406 miles. June 7: 21 hours, 43 minutes. For me, the joy of driving is to take my time and enjoy the sights along the way, so I want to give myself plenty of time. 

I was originally going to give myself five days to get there which would mean leaving on a Sunday and allow time to do a little sightseeing along the way. This would also let me get the week’s work done before getting on the road. I’m only good for driving 5-6 hours a day and now, in looking at all the construction icons on the map along I-90 and I-70, I am not sure I can make it within that timeframe.

The 5-6 hours on-the-road hours usually includes stopping for one meal and perhaps doing a little sightseeing; an excuse to get out of the car and stretch. I need to be looking for a hotel by 2-3 p.m. as that’s when my energy runs out. I find myself dozing at the wheel and that’s scary. 

I developed that routine back in 2013 when I went on my first trip. I’m usually up 4:30-5 a.m. and spend a couple hours on the computer and then out of the hotel by 8 a.m. It’s good to be settled in the next hotel by 4 p.m. which allows time for dinner and work on the computer before bed.

Another aspect of traveling has to do with the return trip. I like to take an alternative route on the way home as much as possible. Of course, that’s not always convenient when needing to keep to major highways and interstates, but some newness is essential. This often means that I can’t say, “Oh, I’ll stop there on the way home,” because, even if I do the same route, my mind is not in the same place. 

So now I am thinking five days to KC aren’t enough. I don’t want to be late as I’m meeting up with others. I didn’t want to be gone more than two weeks, but when taking a driving trip, I have to take sightseeing opportunities. If I put more days in the beginning, does that mean I should short-shrift myself on the return? Does that mean I won’t be able to make stops?

Upcoming 2016 Big Adventure

My oldest grandson is getting married in September. He lives in Wichita, Kansas; the wedding will be in Kansas City, Mo. I said I’d go – and I’m driving out. The difference in this trip and the last couple I took is that there is a specific time limit in which to arrive. 

I was excited when I first heard and pored over the maps. Soren’s dad and grandfather are flying to KC where I will meet up with them for the last leg of the journey to Wichita. This will save them a car rental and give me company on the road for a bit.

As the weeks went by, my enthusiasm waned. The old fears over traveling popped up. This time there’s the added pressure of a holiday weekend. I prefer traveling when crowds are less. I don’t like booking hotels ahead because I like to be spontaneous. Who knows what I’ll see along the way? Maybe I’ll want to stay in a particular area for more than an overnight.

Eric made his arrangements and this morning he informed me of hotel bookings. I went online and found there are no vacancies at either of the places he is staying. I prefer Comfort Inns anyway and although I don’t like booking in advance, I figured I’d better do so. I don’t want to take the chance of not finding a place nearby the others if I put it off. I now have three nights taken care of. 

Google Maps says it is 20 hours, 38 minutes from here to the hotel in Kansas City. The major routes would be I-90 and I-70. I’m generally OK at five to six hours driving in one day which means I would need five days at a minimum to get there. That would not leave me a lot freedom to do much sightseeing on the way out, but there is a little leeway.

Right off the bat there is Niagara Falls within an 8-hour drive. The question is whether I want to stop there. I’ve never seen the falls, but would I want to do so at the end of August when there would be all the last-hurrah crowds before schools start for the year. Should I take the time? Would I regret it, if I didn’t?

Today I am thinking no. 

The earlier planning had me listing rivers and lakes I’d be crossing or by-passing. I got as far as the Missouri border. I’ll want to finish that. I also researched various routes; some to bypass the big cities and I may elect to come back a different way. I’ll also make notes of points of interest although, for the most part, I’ll make choices in the moment and within the time frame.

Back to planning.

Sink Holes

My apologies for not writing lately, May has proved to be a tough month, and just as I thought I was through it, I was hit with a double whammy. Arrghhhh! Such as it is, and part of it is my own fault for letting myself get so overwhelmed that I don’t think straight. 

I feel I’m pussy-footing around; afraid that something else will go wrong. That’s not a good place. I’m feeling good at the moment, but the way things have been lately, I don’t trust the good feeling.

It’s a bit of a set-back after all the work I’ve been doing with manifesting and all. “Bit” is too kind; it’s more like being slammed to the ground then stomped on. The road lately has had big sink holes and I don’t see them until I’ve fallen in. I thought I was beyond that.

I want to believe in Wayne Dyer. I want to believe in the ability to manifest. I wanted to prove my past wrong.

But the universe likes to throw curve balls with a “let’s see how you’ve learned all those lessons you’ve bragged about.” Yep, I got caught in the trap. I didn’t pay attention and fell on my face again.

I’ve never been the type to visualize goals and have them come true. I’ve always found goal-setting to be a disappointment; it just doesn’t work for me. There have been many times when I’ve put an intent out there, but if I dwell on it, it never comes true. It seems I just have to throw the wishes out there and whatever one come true, is a welcome, joyful surprise.

Am I giving up on Dyer and manifesting? I don’t want to. Some of what he preached is true and I totally believe. Maybe I just haven’t worked everything out yet. Everyone says to take baby steps and I do, but like a baby, I am easily distracted by a pretty bauble and I wander off the path, and as usual, I got distracted by work, home renovation, and other things.

Maybe it IS just because Mercury is in retrograde that this has been a crappy month. And not that all has been crappy, just the bad happens to overshadow the good at the moment and leaves me feeling like an old, wet, dirty dish rag wrung out and left to rot. Hey, May is supposed to be a pretty, happy month.

The extra work during the month of May, the Summer Guide, is done and I managed to clean up stragglers in work and straighten out things. Now I can get back to normal… if ever I can be normal. I look forward to June with hope. 

I bought lots of bright, colorful flowers the other day to reward myself for getting through May. Of course, now I have to figure out what to do with them. They bring such joy. I have to decide which to put in containers and which will line my yet-to-be-built walkway to the front door. 

Crawling out of the latest sink hole, I pause to brush myself off. Perhaps in time, I will understand what I went through. I’m already getting clues. I let the focus of work overshadow joy and I got so overwhelmed that I forgot how much I love my work. I forgot that everything does work out and I tried to force things to move faster. I didn’t take meditative breaks and my mind short circuited.

Now, I remember to breathe. I realize that I made the work a lot harder than it needed to be. I took lots of notes for next year. I will do it better! 

And yes, I will also get back to the self-work and the exploration of my wandering mind.