Connect With Kindred Spirits

• A Short Note from Shelley

• May Art

• May Pappus Essay: Connect With Kindred Spirits

• Your Beautiful Life: Journal Prompt

• Writing News

Dear Lovely Friend & Reader:

This has been a month of writerly disappointments tempered with the joy of a beautiful Maine spring, friends, family, lilacs, crabapple blossoms, cardinals and goldfinches at the feeder, peeper frogs singing at night, and, of course, DANDELIONS.

In this issue, I’ll share my inspiration for this month’s artwork; a journal prompt; an essay on finding community; a bit of writing-related news about my failed hopes and dreams . . . but not my happiness and creativity.

I hope you are enjoying the change of season this time of year. I hope you are finding good books to read. I hope you are hanging in there despite all the craziness in the world. Remember: there are good people out there, all around you, and we need to find each other and lift each other up.

Enjoy the letter!

Shelley

This drawing colored with markers (the new set I picked up in Maine last month) was a third attempt at creating an image for this newsletter. First, I tried to draw an image of a writer I’m enjoying at the moment, but it just wouldn’t come out. So I dug out an old Victoria magazine, found an article on red hats, and drew this beautifully-designed chapeau, placing it on the head of an elegant woman and adding a cut-out illustration of spring violets and the suggestion that we “connect with kindred spirits.” The little strip of woven lace down the side finished the piece. Bonus? I got this month’s theme out of it.

Did you go to the movie theater to see The Devil Wears Prada 2? I went with a friend, got the big tub of popcorn, and we had the BEST time!

There is something so deeply, satisfyingly human about sitting together in the same theater space, engaging in the same activity, and hearing laughter and groans and gasps, even slurping of drinks and clearing of throats and the occasional whisper or comment.

Of course, during a movie-theater experience, we ought to keep talking to a minimum. As polite humans, we must be considerate and kind. In fact, this is another reason why we should get back into public spaces more often: practice. We need to practice being polite, considerate, and kind members of the community, and humanity at large, again.

We’ve gotten a little rusty, haven’t we? The screen keeps everyone at more than arm’s length. It is literally a screen between you and the world. A distortion. A blind. A barrier. A shield. A divider.

Wow. I never really thought about that double-meaning, but oh-boy, does that ring true!

Sitting in our little rooms alone with our little black mirrors gives us a (selfish) ease but also takes something away from our human experience—the need to “deal with” each other. We don’t have to negotiate anything with anyone. We don’t have to compromise. We don’t have to wait our turn. At first glance this might seem convenient and lovely, but we are lessened because of it and don’t even recognize the loss.

We have become spoiled and, this is the worst part, LONELY.

So many experts are talking about this “loneliness epidemic” we are facing, and I believe (and others have said it) the solution is pretty simple. Turn off the phone. Shut the laptop. Close down the computer monitor. Get offline.

Or as our mother’s used to say: Go outside and find some friends to play with!

Did you read the Anne of Green Gables books when you were in elementary or middle school? Or maybe in high school? I can’t remember how old I was when I discovered Anne and her best friend, Diana Berry, who Anne called her kindred spirit, but the storyline immediately resonated with me.

As creatives, it’s important to find a community of kindred spirits.

Talking to other artists and writers and crafters feeds our own creativity. We share ideas and bounce things off each other. We may try a new technique or be inspired to use that fun stitch in our next knitting project. Maybe we see a friend’s quilt and think, “That pattern would make a beautiful wall hanging.” Or a friend’s watercolor or oil or sculpture inspires an ekphrastic story or poem. Music is poetry is music. They all meld together, the arts. Human expression, human insight, human emotion.

Not only can we learn from each other and be inspired by each other, we can BE THERE for each other, cheering each other on at gallery openings or poetry slams or author readings or theater productions or musical performances.

Yes, we can connect online, but being part of a local “scene” is so much more enlivening. So much more juicy. So much more FUN.

Online groups are easier, frictionless as they say, but lately I’m realizing these connections are lovely but somewhat shallow and easily ignored, changed, or thrown away. It’s pretty painless to unsubscribe, after all. There is no uncomfortable conversation. No break-up. People just fall away from each other, quietly and without friction or even acknowledgement. We watch our data like it means something, but it doesn’t touch our hearts.

What we (or at least I) crave is something deeper and in-person. I want to be part of a local, creative scene. It’s difficult and takes work and doesn’t always pan out, but sometimes it does. We just have to keep trying.

Some things that have worked for me: My last year in San Diego, I volunteered at the San Diego Writers Festival, and it felt so energizing and exciting to meet local writers and talk about their work and listen to them discuss their craft.

In Guam, I joined a couple of dance classes and that community also gets together for sunset cruises and performances and parties, too. To try to connect with the writing scene, I went to a book launch and (nervously) introduced myself to people involved with the University of Guam Press. At the Guam Navy base library, I tried to start a writing group, and it was looking good for a few weeks until we hit a snag, but I think this is still a possibility.

In Maine, over many years, I’ve gone to author readings, attended and applauded at Noir at Night group events, participated in mini-conferences like Maine Crime Wave and once a Maine Romance Writers of America day of workshops, and I’ve even shown up to the Maine Literary Awards. Everywhere I go, I buy books.

While I can’t say these forays into the Maine literary scene have been totally successful, I do continue to look for “my” people, and I continue to cheerlead, encourage, engage, promote, buy/support, and do my best to be a good creative citizen, even if some people are less than generous or even appreciative of my efforts.

Most people are lovely and generous and kind, but some humans can be rude. It’s part of that friction I was talking about. It’s good to have friction. It toughens you up. My creative skin is now fairly leathery.

(I do notice the rudeness, however, even if I act nonchalant. And I talk to my friends—most of whom are readers, and I name names. Just sayin’)

Anyway, as an example of a good experience, while in Maine recently, I participated in an author-talk with two fellow writers at my local public library.

Three of us, novelist Kevin St. Jarre and poet Nylah Lyman and myself, read from our books and talked about writing and publishing and stories and poems. The small but lively people in the audience asked excellent questions that spurred discussion and they even shared some of their own ideas about writing, and it was just a fun time.

Of course, I semi-regularly meet and/or talk on the phone with individual writers, and in a pinch the video-chats and phone calls do the trick, but there’s nothing like having coffee and talking shop with a fellow/sister writer in person.

I’m hoping more of us are ready, now, to disengage from the machines and re-engage with the physical world and with people face-to-face. Creative-to-creative. There are reasons to hope, not least of them, the younger generation embracing analog.

As for Pink Dandelions, I love connecting with you via email newsletter, but I know it’s one more message in the overcrowded inbox. I work very hard to be authentic without being depressing, because the world is fraught enough. I am so grateful for your attention here. Still, it would be better if we were chatting over coffees or a glass of red at a hotel bar overlooking the ocean, wouldn’t it?

Maybe someday this newsletter will arrive in your mailbox, printed in ink on paper.

A couple people have suggested I start a YouTube channel. It’s tempting, but honestly? Philosophically, I believe we need to spend less time on these black mirrors and more time at the dinner table playing gin rummy with our friends. So, for now, I’m going to ponder about how to get this newsletter onto paper sometime in the future.

In the meantime . . .

Going out to the movies. Watching DVDs instead of streaming. Listening to a local radio station. Reading a local newspaper. Writing earnest letters to the editor. Getting out our old cds and even cassettes and listening to them instead of streaming. Going to a live music event. Going to a live theater event. Playing horseshoes or croquet on the lawn. Taking a walk after dinner. Going to church on Sunday morning, even if you are an agnostic. Borrowing books from the library. Doing crafts. Balancing checking accounts the old-fashioned way in your checkbook register, bonus if you do the math on paper instead of using a calculator. Going to the bank and saying hi to the teller instead of using online banking apps or the ATM. Keeping your phone on a table in the hallway instead of pasted to your body all day long. Playing cards on a rainy summer afternoon, with friends if they are around, or solitaire if not. Keeping a birding journal. Coloring books. Play-Dough. Writing a story by hand with a pen and paper. Making chocolate chip cookies. Picking strawberries and making homemade jam. Baking scones to go with the jam. Walking around garden tours to benefit local organizations. Reading poetry out loud. Playing charades. Participating or supporting community theater.

Just a few ideas. What else do you think would be nice to bring back? How many ways can we EJECT technology from our daily lives and still get stuff done, maybe with a little more FRICTION, which is something everyone is talking about these days? Because, turns out, friction is good for us, my friends.

Hit reply or leave a comment.

Write about a time your were involved in a creative “scene” whether that was music or art or writing or fiber art/craft, etc. What was it like? How did it inspire you? Write about the positives and negatives. Reflect back on the experience with as many details as you can remember.

Alternative or bonus: write about the kind of creative community you aspire to be part of now and in the future. Describe the type and the place and the activities. Is there a book, film, or tv show (I’m thinking Midnight in Paris) or historical group (example: Algonquin Round Table) that inspires you? How would being a part of a local “scene” like this impact your creative life? How could you tip-toe (or jump both feet) into a local creative community near you?

I’m working at a very slow pace on Liv 3. I revised and polished a 725-word short story to enter into a contest (must send that out today!)

Remember the class/mentorship I talked about in March? Well, let’s just say that did not turn out to be what I expected. I gave it three weeks, and what happened is that the program went through some behind-the-scenes upheaval (I don’t have details except what I could scrounge up on Reddit and from what eventually transpired in the program itself) and what I was getting from the program was not what was sold to me, i.e. a one-on-one mentorship. Luckily, I was able to request a refund.

However.

You might also remember that I intended this to be my last big push to get to the “next level.” Something went out of me when this failed, and my insides shifted, and suddenly I realized I don’t want to push any more. At all.

Yes, things have been building to this crisis all year. First, I decided to let my social media accounts go dormant. Now I’ve decided to stop blogging on Type M for Murder. My online writing journal lags for weeks and even months between posts, and I’m wavering on whether or not to keep that going (and being more faithful to it) or shutting it down.

I will definitely continue with Pink Dandelions because I feel called to it. I love it. I want to make it into a mailed letter someday.

I’m so, so, SO glad I made creativity and living a good life the focus of Pink Dandy rather than specifically writing craft, the publishing industry, getting an agent, etc. I don’t want to write about marketing, getting the books “out there,” indie versus small press versus trad publishing, ads, or begging people to please support my work financially. I don’t want to ask you to buy my books. If you want them, you’ll get them. If not, that’s ok.

If you are a fellow writer and someone who still wants to publish and have dreams of making a living or the New York Times or Amazon bestseller lists, I’m hear to cheer you on. I applaud anyone who hangs in there. It’s just not for me. The push. Not anymore.

I want to continue to write about living a joyful, creative life. I want to continue to inspire you to do the same. I am loving my life right now. A burden has been lifted. I feel free. Suddenly, I want to pick up my knitting needles again and finally make a sweater. I’m gardening. I’m drawing. I’m listening to bird songs. I’m polishing short stories, ones that are more literary.

Will I still write mysteries? I don’t know. I’ll finish up the Olivia Lively series and see how I feel. I may or may not write short mystery fiction.

I want to rewrite some old novels I have tucked away. I want to rewrite them for my own pleasure and satisfaction as literary or book club or women’s fiction.

Will I publish again? It depends. I’m not going to push, but if they come out well and I think readers would truly enjoy them, I might find a way, look for an agent or publisher, or indie pub them for anyone who is interested. But I’m not going to spend any emotional energy on what happens with the finished product. My energy is going into the creation.

I have no desire to be famous. At all. I’d really just love to delight my readers.

I hope this finds you and brings you some pleasure and some encouragement and some inspiration. Maybe it helps to see that I can try to rise and fail and still feel joyous and whole and happy, maybe even more so than when I was striving (ineffectively, it turns out) to make a living wage from my writing, and it just wasn’t happening.

I’m going back to writing for writing’s sake. I’m going to concentrate on being a creative, an artist, and a member of the writing community without any goal of making money. Don’t feel sorry for me. Yes, technically I’ve failed at a writing career, I suppose, but I’m feeling extraordinarily good about it. I promise.

With all this going on this past month, I didn’t get anything done on The Peony Hotel. I will have something for you in June.