I'm not dead. And neither is this newsletter.

Spring is an interesting time that seems to sit at the crux of death and rebirth. Much like a real birth! For women, going into labor brings with it a risk of death even with the promise of new life. It’s a pinnacle moment, a liminal space. And spring can feel like that too.

The snow melts to reveal the dead plant matter from last season, the bare earth . . . and other unexpected departures. But, look, there, baby crocuses pushing up from the dirt. Worms squelching through the mud. The tiny buds glowing green on the ends of our flowering bushes.

Recently, after the four foot snow piles covering my backyard finally melted, my kids and I went outside to clean up a bit. They headed straight for their outdoor toy bin. I flipped over the plastic pool that had leaned against it all winter and looked down beside my son’s foot to see a thick coat of brown, undisturbed fur. I screamed and yelled for him to back up. The mound of fur looked fresh and like it might start moving any moment.

At first I thought of our cat who went missing the year previous and had a similar hued coat, but that made no sense. I couldn’t tell if the animal were dead or alive or even what it was. Something rabid about to pounce? I couldn’t see it’s face.

When I eventually walked around to catch a glimpse of the front of it—giving it a wide berth—I recognized the animal for what it was: a well-preserved raccoon.

Could it have been that large one I saw prowling down our side street a few weeks back? Or was that its mate, out looking for its lost love? (Do raccoons have mates? I have no idea. I just love a good romantic tragedy). The animal looked to be curled up to sleep, my guess, looking for shelter from one of the snow storms where it ended up unexpectedly buried under a few feet of the white stuff.

“Mom, can we keep him as part of our family? Please?” my daughter asked.

(Trying not to gag). “Um, no, honey. Not this one,” I said. (She’s also nursing a ladybug pet back to health that I haven’t had the heart to tell her didn’t make it.)

For days after this grim backyard discovery, I found myself still thinking about the animal and feeling sad about it. Maybe it was tied in connection to our lost cat. Maybe it was just the proximity to death in our own backyard serving as a reminder of the fragility of things.

And after a cold, bleak winter this newsletter (and also my writing??) seemed to have been teetering on this same brink, but I realized it was only a necessary hibernation in order to bring about a rejuvenated sense of life. Can you feel it too? The keyboard calling your name. That manuscript project you put down sometime in November winking at you from your desk. Pick me back up, it calls.

It’s time to start writing again.

I saw Pulitzer Prize-winning author Paul Harding speak this past week and one of the things he mentioned was the “privilege of influence,” which is to say that our writing is always in conversation with what we are reading. And I’m here to add, maybe our writing is also in conversation with the natural world around us too. With death and rebirth, with our animal neighbors, with the seasons and the storms and the first buds of spring.

And what a privilege that is. To be writing in communion with nature.

UPDATES:

*This update is to say I HAVE A BIG UPDATE coming soon! Stay tuned for the next newsletter . . .

*NEW CLASS ALERT: Finish Lab: A 6-Week Draft Completion Sprint is a course for novelists who are just oh so close to the end and need a final kick in the pants to get the book done. This focused six-week writing container will help you move from the middle of your novel to a finished draft—without losing momentum. This class begins Wednesday, April 29th, 10 a.m. Registration goes live next week.

*I have an opening for a development edit beginning April 15th. Have a draft ready for some feedback? Reach out and save yourself a spot!

*The LitSet Lab returns next week with another video tutorial focused on successful scenes. “Raising Stakes Without Melodrama.” Grab a subscription to view!

Creativity Through the Senses for this week:

See: For my husband’s birthday, we went to see Project Hail Mary. One-man-alone-in-outer-space movies don’t typically have me running to the theater, but I actually really enjoyed this. It was humorous and sweet, and I’m a sucker for stories about unexpected friendships.

Hear: I’ve been listening to Kate Quinn’s The Briar Club for my book club pick this month. The author makes an interesting choice by framing the book with a murder mystery and essentially giving us a handful of different individual’s stories who all live within one apartment building (and seemed to be linked by one mysterious woman).

Smell: I went to Salem with my daughter on her recent day off and we both got spell jars, because, obviously, Salem. Mine is a Spring Simmer Spell (i.e. potpourri to boil on the stove) made of dried lime, lavendar, and mint. Yum! I might keep making my own to sweeten up the air of my home.

Taste: DRIED MANGO. It’s sweet and leathery and always there for you when you need a quick bite. My family has basically eaten $50 worth of it this month alone.

Touch: The firm reliance (and chug spout) of my new unearthly yellow Yeti water bottle. Does anyone else feel inspired to hydrate more after purchasing a new water bottle or is it just me?