Thoughts of a Well-Intentioned Blogger on New Year's Eve

I had the very best of intentions when I began this blog. After all, writers write, right? (we won't discuss how long it's been since my last installment here). But after many years of writing only for myself, and then somehow stumbling into writing novels, I've guarded my words carefully. It's daunting at times, throwing your words out there in the world for anyone and everyone to read. They might have meaning to some, but for every person who thanks you for those words, there's a bully, an internet troll, or just a general jerk to tell you that you stink. I should know by now to ignore the bullies, trolls, and jerks though because that's part of life, but I find myself occasionally hurt by their words because I'm sensitive. I'm a writer. I feel deeply...about most everything. So, I guard my words carefully, and I gather them up and protect them from the world, and I squander them. And I get sidetracked...more easily than I'd like to admit. So I don't make an ideal blogger. I've determined now, at least for me, that the word BLOG means that I don't post frequently "Because Life Often Gets...in...the...way."

I don't post often and I don't even care to. But, when I do, I really have something to say. I mean, kudos to all those people who publish daily blogs and pictures and recipes and helpful ideas, but it's just not my thing. But, by all means, you bloggers go ahead and keep doing what you do!

So, here I am on New Year's Eve, and I have all these thoughts racing through my mind. Like, why didn't I publish a book during this calendar year? Well, I've realized that life really does get in the way of writing, but also in the way of thinking...and creating. And I refuse to force words just to put something between the cover of a book. Hopefully my readers will understand that and will happily welcome my next installment into the Rose series with open arms. I want her story to be intriguing and unique and realistic, so I won't ruin it with words that don't come easily.

This year has been unique for me in many ways. I am continually met with new challenges from my autoimmune disorder (Mixed Connective Tissue Disease  - MCTD) and some days I can't bring myself to accomplish much. Honestly, that gets in the way of my writing, too. And I hate that my physical limitations can mess with the words that my heart, soul, and mind work so diligently to create. Such is life though...we all have a cross of some kind to bear, and I accept that this is mine. Maybe when I don't feel like creating as many words it causes me to hoard them even more. But, I vow to be kind to my body, and to not mentally flog myself when I don't feel like pounding out pages and pages of manuscript.

Another thought about this year is of all the celebrity losses. Us creative types are admiring of each others' works. For example, I seldom write without listening to music, and the musical losses of this year have been been astounding. It saddens me to know that there will be no new lyrics from these people...no new songs for me to leave on repeat as I write my next novel. People like me take these losses personally, even though we had no actual personal connection to those artists.

My husband, Joel, and I at Edinburgh Castle in July 2016

However, despite my challenges and losses, this year surprised me with the opportunity to travel. I almost declined the offer because I wasn't sure I could endure the long walks, hurried airport dashes from gate to gate, and physical demands that come with travel abroad. Somehow, my husband assured me I could make it, and so I booked the ticket. Oh, how glad I am that I did. I celebrated my 20th wedding anniversary with roses and a view of the Edinburgh Castle from my hotel window.




Later that evening, we visited chilly but beautiful Portobello Beach, had champagne by the coast

and surprisingly met up with the ever lovely Nicola who we had only talked to online until that night.

 I walked the streets of Edinburgh this summer, met friends in Dublin with whom I'd had online conversations with for over a decade at an Elvis Costello concert

and even had lunch with Rita, who was surprisingly in the same area of Dublin at the same time.

I visited the Edinburgh Writer's Museum...a religious experience for anyone who feels the need to put thoughts into words.






I winced in pain as I climbed those tiny concrete stairs in that beautiful building, but I did it with pride.



















And I cried as I stood before the desk of Robert Burns, and I cried again when I went back to see it two days later.














You see, Mr. Burns is one of my favorite people. And as I stood there in my Rosy Tieks, next to his words and next to his statue, I felt a giant of a man next to my tiny feet.                                                                       

 

He wrote Auld Lang Syne, the traditional song sung every New Year's Eve...a song I often refer to in my books. Since he and I were born a few centuries apart, seeing his belongings was as close of a meeting with him as I'll ever get.

I visited Trinity College Library in Dublin, saw The Book of Kells,










and lost my breath temporarily upon entering The Long Room.

Another love of mine, though strange to some, is visiting cemeteries. Some day, I'll finally publish that book I've been working on. Anyhow, I visited several lovely resting places in Edinburgh and Dublin. Some of the tombstones were literal works of art, as well as the gardens which surrounded them. I walked and walked and walked. Worth every ounce of discomfort that my body experienced to be in the presence of these places, and I'll cherish the pictures that I took...with my camera, as well as with my mind. So, even at my age, I find myself still learning and growing. I think the day we stop that process is the day we truly die, even if our bodies are still alive. At least growing pains mean I'm still growing, and my physical pain serves to remind me that I'm still alive to feel that pain.






















As for new year resolutions, well, I hate that crap. More often than not, they  fade away with the presence of February. I want to make lasting promises to myself that I have a chance of actually keeping. Like, I promise to myself in this next year to be more open to all the things I might be unknowingly closing myself off from. For instance, if I hadn't pushed myself to travel, I would have lost out on so many experiences, like the conversation I had with the wonderful lady at the antique store who, after I told her of my books and my main character, Rose, offered a gift of this vintage bracelet.




And I wouldn't have experienced this flurry of feathered friends in St. Stephen's Green, when a local gentleman introduced me to the park's most welcoming residents.

By the way, thank you, John, for all your Irish hospitality. Our visit was so much more special because of the generous amount of time you spent showing us John Foyle's Dublin...










There will always be loss and heartache, but there will also always be good to look forward to. Enjoy it, and cling to it when it comes to you. I wish for myself to open up my heart and soul more so I can experience more good times, even when I doubt myself, and so I can share more words more frequently, even when life gets in the way. And I wish for you all in the coming year whatever good things you hope for and need in your lives. As always, peace and love to you all...