I’m gonna apologize in advance because this post is a LONG one. You ready? You got some coffee/tea? OK – dig in:
A strange fact about me is that although I’m a fairly messy and disorganized person; my Outlook calendar is a wonder to behold with recurring goals scheduled, my coworkers’ time off schedules noted, etc. Even hubs and I have individual and shared Google Calendars where we check on each others’ whereabouts before we schedule various events. (I even recently had to upgrade to the paid version of the Doodle poll to herd multiple cats for a meeting. I also have a calendar reminder to cancel that before I get charged the monthly rate again.)
So although I have a monthly reminder to write a blog post; this month has already been as such that I had to scoot that calendar reminder and … well, yeah. I thought I was going to have a Second Friday post, but now it’s a Third Friday blog post.
Sigh. Here we are.
My plate had been just ridiculously full lately. Some of it by choice, some of it by circumstance – usually due to over-scheduling and over-committing myself. (So, basically my fault.) The biggest expenditure of energy over the past few months is that I helped chair a political advocacy committee in support for my kids’ school district and the District’s technology referendum. I met and volunteered with some amazing people (sincerely, I have some lifelong friends that I now get to treasure). I REALLY pushed myself out of my comfort zone (I still really hate phone banking).
All of these things sound AMAZING, don’t they? LOL, it’s great until you lose by a 300+ vote margin and find out that barely 30% of your community’s registered voters actually voted. Votes matter, people. Even in off years.
There is obviously something detrimental about volunteering for anything that is going to take away from your writing time. Full stop. It takes away from your precious and fleeting time, it expends mental energy. I went to the chiropractor last week and he was like “what have you been DOING?” (I seriously throw my body out of whack, that’s how talented I am at being a stress ball.) But, as I’ve told my husband: I know that I NEVER want to run for political office (I don’t think I could have anyway for … um, reasons.) And honestly? I met really good people. And advocating for your kids’ future is always a good choice. And there was at least one person that I ended up working with that helped me unlock a character in my work in progress.
So what’s next? I’m going to be holding down my couch for the foreseeable future. (I had a preview of that this weekend when I was laid low from a combination of my Covid booster & flu shot. I am really good at napping and taking up real estate on my couch.)
I am also taking the next couple of months to strategically figure out my next steps regarding community engagement. But more importantly, how that balances with work, my family, and my work … the creative kind.
Because, what is the point of having a writing blog and calling yourself a writer if you’re not writing.
Here’s the news from me on my recent reads, what I’m watching, and writing progress:
Listening: I’ve been on an R.E.M. kick lately. Maybe I’ll write more later, but maybe you’ll search up some R.E.M. and just get what I’m feeling? Maybe? You can let me know in comments if you get it.
This evening, I am going to see A.J. Croce in concert, with my dearest Anderson. This is a musician that I’ve seen … four times? He is Jim Croce’s son, in case you were wondering about the last name. Obviously, I enjoy his music – otherwise, I wouldn’t go – but it’s the camaraderie. And it’s the memories that A.J. brings up when I think about the DECADES and venues I’ve seen him play in. (Seriously, the first time I saw him in concert was late June 2000 up in Duluth, Minnesota. I still have the signed poster.)
Recent Reads: Sooooo far away from my Goodreads goal, but the book that recently kicked my ass and my headspace was Pedro Hoffmeister’s AMERICAN AFTERLIFE. It’s dystopia, but not set in the too distant future.
Watching: I went ahead and indulged in two movies recently at my local indie movie theatre.
THE ROYAL HOTEL which is set in Australia. (I see some negative reviews online. Don’t listen. You can wait to stream online, but it’s a good watch.)
And … (swoon) … PRISCILLA. Let’s get something straight right now: I am not an Elvis fan. If I was, I’d probably like his gospel stuff, which is saying a lot considering I’m agnostic. HOWEVER … if you tell me that Sofia Coppola is going to direct a biopic that’s about one of the most polarizing musician wives this side of Yoko Ono? I. Am. In. And I got to see it with my best friend – so … winning, beetches. Beautiful. Sumptuous. Uncomfortable in the subject matter. One of the best damn soundtracks …
Which brings me to what I’m watching small-screen: GEORGE & TAMMY. Oh, sweet Lordt. I’d like to tell you that my mama raised me better than to be taken in by some sweet-talking, silver-tongued devil like George Jones, but my matriarch’s side of the family that absolutely worshiped at the altar of folks like Cash, Jennings, Kristofferson, Nelson, and … yes, Jones, would have loved this biopic of George Jones and Tammy Wynette. And the main actors in the show (Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain) do their own vocals. It’s just … it’s a must-watch.
I also finished 1923 and I loved every single minute of it. Eye p*rn. Nearly every part of it. (And a brutal and necessary look at the Indigenous schools that were part and parcel of our country’s last century.)
Writing Life: If you are a writer, you acquaint yourself frequently with failure. It’s just the way that it is. But my most recent failure is one of my own making. I whiffed the deadline for the Bouchercon anthology and did not submit a short story for consideration. If you know me, you know that I am deadline-oriented by nature – it’s my profession, it’s just who I am. In my writerly life, it’s not uncommon for me to miss an “artificial” deadline. (Ahem – you’re reading my “first” Friday on the third Friday.) Maybe I need to beat myself up more, but … well, I don’t do that. I missed a deadline. That means I have a story that will need to find a home someday.
November, babies. It’s been a brutal month in what’s been a brutal year, but *shrugs* … we dust ourselves off. I can’t guarantee that things are going to get better, but I can guarantee that things are still going to happen whether we’re ready or not.
Be gentle with yourselves! Drink something warm. Make some soup. You’re loved.
– Shelley
PS – I was going to be all FANCY and produce this recipe in my professional Canva subscription (that I have a calendar reminder to cancel), but November 18th is my momma’s birthday. Last year, I nearly set my kitchen on fire trying to make her favorite cake. (The heating element decided to GLORIOUSLY set itself ablaze. It was a fantastic discovery to make at 5 AM on the morning of Mom’s birthday.)
Anyway – this recipe is her grandma’s and *my* grandma submitted it for inclusion in the 1978 Rossville Presbyterian Church cookbook. It’s the only time I’ll willingly use margarine. And I did not edit this into a Canva-worthy graphic, because it’s perfect as-is. With my momma’s handwriting and everything:
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What is First Friday? This started originally as “Friday Fare” where I posted a hodgepodge of links and some of the things that were living rent-free in my noggin. This is a monthly version of that.
michellekubitz 