What I'm Taking Through December

Over the last year or so I've been posting thoughts about what I learned or experienced in a particular month and what I'll try to carry forward from that experience.

Subject to external pressures, of course. People visiting. Deadlines. Being immersed in living instead of reflecting on it.

My novel has debuted, and I have a few events coming up. I'm editing a novel, revising another one, and writing on a new project that's stretching me in exciting ways. 

So the two things I'm holding throughout the rest of the year: gratitude and space.

My book filling a table at our
local independent bookstore.

Me, back home after the launch,
exhausted and happy,
with flowers from my family.

As if filling a table in the bookstore weren't enough,
this is my book IN THE WINDOW
with the new release by Jean E. Pendziwol 

  

The birch on a recent golden morning.
It has fewer leaves now.

Some days, the sky and the clouds 
are beyond words. Yet I still try.

Gratitude because I had the opportunity to do a thing, and now I'll have a bit of a window to share the excitement and this work with others. People will get to read about these imaginary people I've known for a decade or more!  

Gratitude at being part of a large and supportive community of writers, readers, and artists of all sorts. Saying this doesn't seem like enough, so I say it often, and I mean it every time.

I'm also grateful for the opportunity to live here. I mean: it never grows old.

And space because I've been online a lot, thinking about and working on projects related to MAKING UP THE GODS, and I'm coming into a time when I need some space to do my best work.

Which is not to say I'll never post here. I'll certainly share news! I am travelling, and I have at least one new publication on the horizon. But I'll be working more and talking about it less. And resting in between. 

This year has had its moments. I'm grateful that for me so many of those moments brought projects to fruition. I hold space for those for whom this year has brought destruction and violence. I wish them the light of an early morning sun, one that shines through golden birch leaves.