January 30, 2024

January has been a whirlwind of things and people and emotions and lessons all seemingly coming at me at once. And I’m ok with this because everything has been needed and asked for. Be careful what you ask for…I know this but yet I bravely ask for the lessons I need.

I’m writing daily which is a huge step for me, just twenty minutes and some days it’s lyrical prose that will find its way into another book or a standalone essay some day. But most days I’m ruminating over the day before and what I’m doing that day, more journal than shareable prose. I’m finally sending my book out for queries to agents. My success rate is 0/12 and I’ll just keep sending queries out until the Universe yells at me to stop with the letters and bios. Perhaps by that time I’ll have the frame for the next book and I’ll switch my focus and send out proposals for book two.

I usually write from the couch in our living room and the winter light is different, a cooler yellow than summer or autumn light. I’ve never noticed this before and I’m glad I finally did. Thinking about this early morning light and witnessing it for it’s own unique beauty makes winter easier in some ways. Paying attention to the beautiful rather than the flat gray days, the dry and battered weeds and grass just outside the living room window.

Writing this next book about the prairie and my home is helping me see things I see daily. Like how the light casts on the book case is a pale yellow more akin to the walls in the office than the lovely heavy cream of the rest of the walls and ceiling. It glints off the silver frames surround favorite pictures of my boys. The rainy day picture when my Evan was a toddler playing in the rain. My Pearce at 18 months, striking his best young poet pose.