Learning (Again) the Lessons of Connection

A few years ago, I told my husband I needed a change to my days. What I meant was that working at home alone was no longer so great for me. I was starting to become lonely, and the loneliness was shading the days with more and more grey, no matter the sunshine outside. 

Having a home office had been great—and still is at times—but I am an extrovert. I need my alone time, but too much of it and the sadness seeps in. So my husband, Preston, kind soul that he is, let me borrow an office space—often used as spillover space when an employee needed more room to spread out—and I started going into the office with him several times a week. 

It wasn’t as if I spent gobs of time talking to everyone at work, and sure, I was still doing my own work in a room by myself, but having the office door open, just hearing the voices of the people around me and interacting enough to say hello and to see how they were doing cured all my bouts of loneliness.

Then the pandemic hit. They needed that office space, the one I had been using, to spread out and be safe. I packed up my keyboard and mouse and my insulated thermos and started working full-time back at home. Let’s face it, having to work from home is not the worst thing in the world. I am lucky I have my job, that my husband has his, that we have a roof over our heads. Let me be clear: I am not complaining. 

The months passed, and I worked from home, with the windows and my computer and the phone as my connections to the world during the day.

As the pandemic continued, I talked to my single friends, the ones who lived alone. “I’m struggling,” they said. “This is too much.” I thought I understood how they must feel. I wasn’t lonely—after all, I see Preston at the start and end of every day—but I thought I could imagine how they must feel.

But now I can see I couldn’t, not really. 

This past weekend, when my husband was at work all day Sunday, for some reason I hit a lonely wall. After all this time, I’d been perfectly fine on the days I was home alone and then suddenly I wasn’t. I’m not sure what made the difference, but I could feel the edges of the grey seeping in, just under the cracks. And I thought, “If this is how I feel, under such easy circumstances, how must my friends feel who live alone?” I’m guessing I still don’t have a clue.

I have a plan for myself on how to tackle the loneliness. I’m not worried about me. But it’s made me even more concerned about my friends who live alone, especially as we head into the colder months. I was already calling them, but now my calls will increase. “How are you? Tell me about your day.” Sometimes it’s not complicated to show you want to be there for someone. I don’t have easy fixes for their loneliness, but I can at least try harder.

Do you know someone who lives alone? Reach out. Chat. Zoom or FaceTime. Ask them how they are. You might not be in the same room, but you can at least make an effort to show up for them. Let them know you have not forgotten them. Let them know they matter to you.

(Photo by Eduard Militaru from Unsplash.com.)

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Sales at My Bookshop

Looking for gifts? I have lots of sales going on at my online bookshop.

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Upcoming Events

November 4, 2020, 5-6:30 p.m. EST: “Moments that Matter: an Introduction to Flash Nonfiction” Writing Workshop. Join me in this free session with Community Building Art Works. We’ll talk about flash nonfiction, how it works, why it works, look at some examples, and then I’ll give you a prompt and you will WRITE. Session is free but registration is required.

November 10, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

November 17, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

December 1, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

December 15, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

A Letter to Say You Matter

A decade ago, I got an email from one of my college professors. She let me and a few other former students know that our poetry professor was ill and reaching the end of her life. We were urged to reach out and tell her what she had meant to us. I can’t remember now if it was said explicitly in the email, or simply understood, that as my poetry professor faced her mortality, she was grappling with whether her life had had an impact on anyone.

I stepped away from the computer. I went to the next room and sat down. I put my face in my hands. Not only was I losing my dear poetry professor, but she was wondering that? This is the poetry professor who had introduced me to Mary Oliver, a poet I still read to this day. This was the poetry professor who allowed me to study one-on-one with her for a whole term. We would sit in her little closet of an office and hunch over small poems, yet a whole world was opening for me, a new sky of light and stars. I lost track of time in that office. What did I need time for when I had words I loved? This was the poetry professor who said she would stick by me when the literature magazine that I edited (and she advised) had a fight with the administration over ownership and power. She did just that: she never wavered. Not once. 

She taught me so much more than about stanzas and meters and line breaks. 

After the email about my professor’s impending death, I wrote to her immediately, but to this day I do not know whether she got my letter before she died. And now, years have passed, but my memory of her has not.

On Tuesday night, I thought of her as I opened the box that got delivered. It held the pages of my first poetry collection—my publisher sent them to me so I could proof them. I thought of her the next day as I was teaching students how to write their life stories—how to use sensory details, how to show emotion through action and setting, how to reflect on the past. I thought of her the other night as I doodled a panel of hearts meant to represent my students and all they had given me and I, too, wondered if my life mattered, if what I was doing would have any impact on anyone. And I thought of her when I felt the joy that comes when one of my students has an aha moment. With clarity and understanding comes wisdom, and with wisdom comes peace.

Yes, Imogene Bolls, you had a tremendous impact, and you will always matter to me.

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Upcoming Events

October 10, 1:30 p.m. EST (Zoom): Stop by and Chat with Me
As part of Press 53's anniversary celebration, I will be Zooming with anyone who wants to come by and say hello, ask questions, talk about publishing, about characters, about writing, anything! Please come by and say hello. Free of course. Join here.

October 10, 7:00 p.m. EST (Zoom): Reading from A Small Thing to Want: stories
I'll be reading from my short story collection and answering any questions. Hope you can join me. Free. Join here.

October 13, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

Love Lessons

Twelve years ago on a Saturday in August, I hooked my arm through my father’s and traipsed down a cement walk that led us to a terrace where a small group of friends and family sat waiting. Two people were standing on that terrace—a minister, and Preston, who would in about twenty minutes (after we laughed and said vows and shed a few tears) become my husband. Next to the terrace was Boone Lake, and on Saturday afternoons the water buzzed with speedboats and pontoons. We expected to have to raise our voices during our little ceremony so that our friends and family could hear us since we weren’t wearing microphones. But for that half-hour, the lake sat serene: quiet and contemplative and beautiful. 

Sometimes life grants us all little gifts. That was one of them. The big gift was my husband, who for twelve years has been as steady and loyal and loving as I ever imagined he would be. Maybe more, really. Every day—and I mean literally every day—I tell him how lucky I am to have him as my life partner.

Before I met and married him, when I was still single and dating, I read an article titled something like “ten things you should look for in a partner.” (I’m pretty sure my mom clipped this article out for me, probably in hopes that it would help me with my dating selections, which could sometimes, let’s be honest, not always seem like such good ideas in the end.) I can only remember two of the items: one was to pick someone who doesn’t smoke, even if you yourself smoke (I did not smoke, though I still remember that particular tip because I found it interesting—the idea was even if you were a smoker, perhaps your potential non-smoking partner would influence you to quit, which says a lot about how strong a partner’s influence is). The other was to choose someone with whom, if you two got stuck in an elevator together, you would never become bored. The idea was to find someone whose conversation you didn’t tire of. I definitely heeded that advice. I have never ever—not once in twelve years—gotten bored with our conversation. 

The other day Preston and I were hiking and a group of about ten young women crossed us on the trail. They all had matching t-shirts, and now I can’t remember what the t-shirts said but I remember wanting one, too. They said something that indicated friendship and love. (Perhaps they were pink—that would have also made me want one.) We asked what the t-shirts were about and the young women said that one of the women was getting married in a few weeks. They asked if we had any advice. I said I did.

Who knows now what I told them? I can’t remember. I’ve been divorced—no one should be taking advice from me! But then I think about my second marriage and Preston and I think this: 1) Pick someone you admire and respect, someone who inspires you. 2) Pick someone with whom you can work out disagreements (I’ve always been the peacemaker in relationships, and Preston is more the peacemaker than I am). 3) And last, spend at least one minute each day telling your person you love her/him and why. Divorce doesn’t usually come because of one moment and one day; it comes from an accumulation of moments and days. Make more of those kind moments.

We could all do a little more of that, not just with the people we love but with neighbors, family and friends, strangers. 

Also, look for the gifts. Even during our greatest sorrows, life offers at least a small gift if we just stop and notice it.

May all of you find love every day.

Cookie heart photo by Roman Kraft from Unsplash.com. And yes, now I want a waffle cookie.

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Calling All Levels of Writers
for a Four-Day (Online)
Memoir/Essay Workshop

September 30-October 1, 2020

Want to write about your life?
Ready to become a better storyteller?
Don’t know where to start and need some direction (and motivation)?

In this workshop you will generate new writing, read writing that inspires, and learn some tools and techniques on the craft of personal essay/memoir writing. Learn more here.

Early bird registration rate until September 7th!

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Thank You to WETS

Thank you to WETS/NPR and Wayne Winkler for interviewing me. In this interview, I talk about my new story collection, A Small Thing to Want, how characters come to me, how I handle rejection, and advice I wish I could give to young writers.

You can listen to it here. (It's the first item listed under "PAST" appearances.)