Golden Air: A Renewed Commitment To Writing. No, Really.

"The reason 99% of all stories written are not bought by editors is very simple. Editors never buy manuscripts that are left on the closet shelf at home. -John Campbell"

So the birthday was fantastic. My parents surprised me with a slew of golden things from the house of Spade, including an amazing necklace, gold sequined jacket and amazing purse that will bring me into my next 25 years. (Thanks Mom and Dad for running into the Kate Spade store in NY!)

 

My mom said that she remembers turning 35 and that everyone deserves an appropriate purse to mark such a milestone, which is one of the many reasons I love her. I've worn it for two days. (It really is perfect. Not only is it pretty, it's functional -- zipper and strap, excellent for travel.)

There were also many special greetings from friends, which meant a ton. I ate a ham and cheese pressed sandwich at Fon Fon and went to Urban Standard and wrote in my journal and felt loved. 

During this mega-writing session, I composed a list of goals for this year. At the top are writing goals, the kind of things that I can't and don't want to put off any longer. 

So, in that spirit, comes the first big symbolic move of 35 -- the purchase of a MacBook Air.

 

It's beautiful. I'm in love. And after having a long hiatus from having a Mac laptop, it's been a most welcome return, the feel of the soft tap tap tap of the keys. (Though I am spending time re-learning some things. Oh you cheeky Mac, you.)

But now the real work begins. What will I write on it? I can no longer make excuses. "I need a new computer." "I don't have time." "I've used up all my words during the day." "Lame, lame, and lame. 

I'm cleaning out my home office, painting it, setting up a new desk and getting to work. I also realize that none of these new things does the real work of writing -- that can be done with a pen and paper. So I can't congratulate myself yet -- after all, anyone can buy a computer and set up a new work space.

But to sit down and do it? That's another story. Luckily I'm supported by good friends, especially writer ones, who know just how hard it can be to begin and begin again. We talk about the process of writing, those of us who are professional writers (and boy do we love to hear ourselves). And I ask them, "should I go to such and such workshop,"  or "what genre do you think this is" and "God, it's excruciating to sit down and start."

They remind me that it is but it's necessary, and that workshops, while helpful, won't do the work of sitting down and doing the work. And that yes, getting away to write is good (who doesn't want to be curled up in a cabin in the woods somewhere, or on the beach, oooh). Truth: the stories are with us everywhere. No fancy retreat necessary.

I know that these blog posts count, and in the next year I am going to post more frequently, even if they are just snippets. So that's one thing. What else will I write? I have a whole lot stored away to get to work on, and only time will tell where it will lead.

Related Links:

Tornado Stories 

Turning 35

I changed my Facebook profile photo this morning:

It was taken at Nate's third birthday party, after all the kids went home and my brother and I took over the bounce house.

Every time I'm in one I think how fun it would be to have a party at a bounce house place with all of my friends. Sometimes adults need it more than the kiddos --  the feeling of soaring through the air and knowing that there's a soft place to land.

You can't really be graceful in a bouncy house, nor serious. So someday I will assemble everyone I know and let them run wild inside a bouncy hall. Think I will do it this year. Someone hold me to it.

***

In two days, I turn 35. This feels like a significant number for some reason. As I shared with a friend today, it seems like a turning point. Halfway through another decade, with little lines forming around my eyes. (I don't really mind that, just as long as they don't appear too fast.)

Many good things have happened the past year. Among them, adopting the charming Gatsby, who came into my life six monts after losing my beloved F. Scott:

 

There were births: my first nephew, Henry, and my godson Jack. I love this picture from Henry's debut:

And births of other sorts too, including helping launch the Alabama Social Media Association, which is all about connecting people. I like that.

In between, there was a lot of travel. This is what I look like happy, on the way to tell a story:

I did yoga on the beach in Miami:

Rode on a New Year's Eve float with a little Elvis:

And went to the Tribeca Film Festival with my brother:

 

There were many good times with the Jazz Hands Family:

And with many friends -- new and old.

I've found more of my voice and shared it, speaking more about writing and community, and the technology that connects us for good. (I really like doing that.) I got to interview my Dad for StoryCorps -- one of the most important interviews of my life.

I was interviewed too, including telling this story of why I live in Birmingham.

I learned to get my hands dirty, working in the yard as part of a complete yard renovation of our house.

There were many good things, too many to list.

***

There have been sad things too, the kind of things that shook me to the core.

This year marked the passing of a dear friend, who was taken far too young. A few weeks later came the tornados, the devastation of which was seared into my brain as I reported on its scope. Walking through the wreckage made me question everything. And listening to the stories of survivors and heroes reached past the jaded journalist and gripped my heart. Three of more than a dozen of the stories are posted. It's the most meaningful work I've done this year.

It helped me make sense of uncertainty.

***

This morning I went to a new church (well, new for me). The preacher invited the congregation to write down their prayers, confessions and messages -- the deepest hopes in our hearts -- on index cards. It felt good to write it all out, this comfortable medium of writing, and to tack it to the wooden cross.

It reminded me of a a Buddhist temple outside Tokyo, where I did a similar thing once, tying my prayer to the tree. It was another decade, and another time.

Moving into 35, my prayers are different. But they are still told in stories (in fact, if you squint hard enough you can read them behind the status updates.)

I am thankful for each story that brought me here, and for the ones to come.

Related Links:

Mandatory Margaritas: Birthday Edition 

August 2, 2009