Lots of Good News!

Posted on May 18, 2012 by

By the arch in the Bay of Cortez

I have so much news to share with you, I’m making a special “news” post!

James and I just returned from an AWESOME time in Cabo San Lucas, and I’m proud to say that we both feel closer because of it.  The photo I’ve attached to is him and me having an awesome time on our snorkeling excursion.  I don’t think I’ve ever had so many margaritas in a seven day period, but who’s counting?  Nothing got too crazy, we were just very relaxed.  (Of course, you’ll be hearing more about Cabo in later posts!)

My second freelance article with SheKnows Magazine is up!  Love Him In Ways He Understands was inspired by the book the 5 Love Languages.  Hope you enjoy!

Did you hear that Moonlight and Oranges was free on Kindle earlier this week?  If you missed the news, you might want to try following me on facebook (click “like”) and Twitter.  My news is up-to-date there, and sometimes it takes a few days for it to work onto my blog.

I had a friend ask me how I get a monetary cut out of free.  The answer?  I don’t.  What I get is more people reading my book and hopefully, if they like it, they’ll tell their friends who will buy the book.

Oh, and speaking of loving the book, if you liked it and have yet to review it on Amazon, I would love to get a review from you.  It would make my day.

This weekend I’m headed off to the Women’s Leadership Summit in Seattle.  I have high hopes and lots of excited anticipation.  Stay tuned for a post-Summit update!

xoxoxoxo

Elise

 

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Because I Knew You – Guest Post by Karen Phelps Heines

Posted on May 17, 2012 by

I’m honored to introduce you today to Karen.  Karen and I met through a writers’ group where, once a week, we write for half an hour, then swallow our pride and read out loud whatever we’ve just scratched out onto the paper to the three people sitting nearest us.  It takes courage, and Karen has been very encouraging to me in my work. She also introduced me to a large brand of artist’s sketchbook…for writing.  We both share an affinity for long stretches of blank, unlined paper onto which we can crowd our stories.

In this piece, Karen looks into her early years of schooling at a woman who made a huge difference to her.  It’s amazing the impact that adults can have on the lives of children, effects that reach even beyond the life of that adult.  Perhaps it’s because, to quote from the dedication of The Little Prince  ”All grown-ups were once children– although few of them remember it.” I think Mrs. Nowlin remembered being a child, and this gave her the power to change Karen’s life.

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MRS. NOWLIN 

by Karen Phelps Heines

 

“Karen, please read next.”

My heart stopped. My face turned red. I flipped back several pages in my second grade reader as I tried to pull the last words read aloud from my subconscious. I failed.

The whole class looked at me.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t keep up. The story interested me and I lacked the patience to go at the pace of the student reading aloud. Most of the time I kept track of the reader’s place as I read ahead. But this story was good. I became engrossed in it. I forgot about the classroom.

My teacher, Mrs. Nowlin, told me where to start reading. My shyness and embarrassment made it doubly hard to read in front of the class.

Mrs. Nowlin was a stout woman who wore simple cotton dresses and sensible shoes. By the time I met her, her hair was gray. You would not notice her on the street. She taught second grade in one of two elementary schools in Sulphur, Oklahoma in the 1950s.

Sulphur was and still is an agricultural community with the largest national park in Oklahoma bordering the city on the south. The closest town lay nine miles west and it was much smaller than Sulphur. Sulphur lacked the population to develop a magnet school or TAG (talented and gifted) classes, not that they existed in the 1950s.

Mrs. Nowlin taught all the second grade subjects to her twenty-five students. Fortunately, four other girls read ahead and finished their arithmetic homework before she finished teaching the lesson. The third week of class she pulled five of us to the front of the classroom. No boys, just girls. We put our desks in a small semicircle and worked there for the rest of school year.

Mrs. Nowlin taught two second grade classes that year. She didn’t get extra pay. She got no recognition for her efforts. She did it because she was a dedicated teacher who wanted all her students to learn as much as they were capable of during the time they spent in her classroom.

Today I sometimes hear about a teacher who goes above and beyond for his or her students. These teachers are few and far between. I only had one teacher like that in my twelve years in elementary, junior high and high school. I was lucky.

From Mrs. Nowlin, I learned to set my goals higher if the ones set for me weren’t challenging. This dedicated teacher taught me far more than second grade lessons.

Mrs. Nowlin, you are now beyond my reach. I wish I had thanked you for how you helped me grow. I wish I’d realized what a gift you gave me before I became an adult. You helped shape me. You changed me for the better.

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Teddy & Emma

Karen retired from a marketing career with IBM and has been working for the last five years to free her right brain. She writes at Louisa’s Café and Bakery in Seattle and hopes to finish her first suspense and young adult novel soon. Karen lives in Edmonds with her two dogs, Teddy Bear and Emma Bear.

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…And You’re Still Affecting Me Today

Posted on May 12, 2012 by

There are about 8 zillion wonderful things my mom has done, and that’s if I actually count them all.  It’s more than 8 zillion.

Although I don’t like Hallmark holidays, I do like reminders to say “thank you.”  And since I won’t be able to see you in person for this Mother’s Day, I want to thank you in front of everyone today, Mom.

Surprise!  I didn’t tell you I was doing this.

I’m going to touch on a few things you’ve done that still affect me now.

You read piles and piles of books out loud to me.  I learned delight of tonal inflection and different accents.  I still use this, and my writing is so much richer because you took the time to make books come alive.

You encouraged my imagination by letting me dress up, host costume parties, and act in plays.  You made sure I felt free and unashamed to express myself.  You showed me the world in technicolor.

You listened when I needed to talk–and I talked your ear off.  You let me know that what I had to say was absolutely worth being heard.  You strengthened my confidence and my voice.

You showed me that there was a loving God who cherished me.

I could go on, about how you were always a friend to me, how you taught me to communicate my emotions, and how much time you gave to your kids, and yet, I think this is enough.  I love you more than any of these words can say.

And when I  see you again, I hope I’ll hear this surprise was a good one.

Love,

Elise

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When Everything Aligns

Posted on May 7, 2012 by

It starts with the heart.

I ached for my dear friend who had needed to see a career counselor for many painful years, yet life and fear continued to prevent this.  I’d lay awake at night, praying there was something I could do.

It’s scary as hell talk about your future. It often means facing all the corners of life where you settled for “safe.” I’ve been there. It sucks. And I had to watch her stand where I’d stood, helpless.

But then the fateful e-mail arrived last week. A life coach friend of mine was asking for a work trade. She needed my help recreating a workbook for one of her seminars (i.e. she needed me to write something), and in exchange was offering me access to life coaching tools that she usually charges hundreds of dollars for–tools that I could give to a friend, if I’d like.

I stared at the email saying Oh my God over and over. This was it. This was the need (the life coach’s need for help and my friend’s need for life coaching) meeting the heart (my desire to help) meeting the talent (my writing). God was lining things up.

I emailed back YES! and started writing something I felt totally unequipped to write.

Me?  Write content for a life coaching workbook? Seriously? And yet, I worked till 9 PM that same day, because if everything was lining up like that, I was diving in headfirst.

As part of my payment/trade, my friend and I will be going to the Seattle Women’s Leadership Summit on May 19, 2012!! (Expect a recap from me!)

The first draft of the workbook has been sent in, I’ve done my due diligence jumping up and down screaming with joy, and I can’t believe how amazing it feels to find something so perfect: This job was meant to happen.

So I whisper thank you, shout YAY!, and then, hesitantly say… Let’s do it again.

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Because I Knew You – Guest Post by Hilary Hayes

Posted on May 3, 2012 by

I’m honored to present to you the person and work of the talented and lovely Hilary Hayes.  Hilary and I met through a writing group that I started in my living room.  We write together on a frequent basis and I have found so much encouragement through this women.  She’s kept me pressing onward even when I’d stopping believing I could push anymore.  If you’d like a specific example, she talked me out of thinking I should just stop my work on Moonlight and Oranges.

Hilary is a deep feeler.  You’ll get that sense immediately when you read this post.  I had tears pricking my eyes instantly.  Oh my goodness.  This is heart-aching and beautiful.

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BECAUSE I KNEW YOU by Hilary Hayes

I feel as if I have lived two lives: the one before my brother Matthew died and the one after. My life shattered when a drunk driver killed him, and I am now a combination of whatever pieces of myself I managed to pick up and glue back together. Pieces are missing or put back in different places, and while I will never be the same, some part of me has survived to be who I am today.

How do you describe someone who was there for almost every moment of your childhood? Like all people, Matt was a wonderfully complex person, full of conflicting characteristics and nuanced personality quirks. Every time I try to describe him, my words fail. I find I risk romanticizing one aspect of him while ignoring another integral part, or worse, turning him into a caricature, rather than the real and effervescent person I knew him to be. Without him around to defend himself, what can I say?

Thinking on this, I realized I don’t want to talk about my brother. I want to talk to him.

To my unique and wonderful brother Matthew,

I just wanted to say we haven’t forgotten you. At times I am afraid I will, but then I realize how much you are a part of me.

I remember how much you hated injustice and how you were never afraid to point out the faulty logic it was based on. You were continually getting in trouble for rebelling against irrational arguments, meaningless tasks, and pointless demonstrations of power. Right or wrong, if you saw something as stupid, you announced your views proudly and never flinched at the consequences.

You were always looking for a reaction. In everything you did, you said unapologetically, “This is who I am, and I will show you why you cannot help but admire me for it.” I think I have some of that in me too. A spark of mischief that pops out when I suspect I am being underestimated, a bit of humor that takes others by surprise, just because I can. You were much better at it than I am, but I am glad some of your personality rubbed off.

I remember how you always knew what to say to point out the foolishness in my arguments. Ben does that now. He does it less often, when it is most needed and in his own way, but just like you he tempers it with a joke. Maybe it is part of his inheritance from you.

I miss the dynamics of our trio. When you were with Ben, sometimes you were more like twins than older and younger brothers. That bond between brothers was something a bossy older sister like me could never entirely be a part of. But that is the way it is supposed to be.

We had a special bond as well. We were born only 18 months apart and understood the responsibilities of being the oldest girl and boy in the family. Together we watched out for Ben, protected him when things got complicated, confronted the bullies that tried to knock him down, and teased him when life got too serious. We may have gone a little too far, by the way, in our efforts to guard him. He is quite good at standing on his own two feet and can fight his own battles.

There are parts of you in both of us, the rest of the family, and probably every person who knew you. Or perhaps we always had those aspects, but only noticed them when we were first around you. Perhaps the similarities in our personalities called out to each other and formed the bonds that made our relationships with you special.

Perhaps that is what made us siblings so close. There were so many bonds between the three of us, that without you, we did not know who we were. Those ties are still there, though they will never be the same. You are gone, and without you we limp along the best we can, holding on to what you taught us.

I miss you and will always love you,

Hilary

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Hilary Hayes lives in Seattle, Washington where her pale complexion can finally be safe. She studied Theater and Art in college and has spent many years in various costume shops. she now spends most of her creative energy rebelling against her dyslexia and writing. The rest of her dwindling free time is spent reading, baking, creating, singing, laughing, and when the sun is out attempting to slack rope with her roommate.

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I Swear I Didn’t Pack That

Posted on April 30, 2012 by

Allure me with your beauty, then almost get me handcuffed...

The following is a real-life account of a girl who almost got in major trouble with SeaTac airport security.

I’m what most people would call a “good girl.”  I like pleasing people and maintaining order.  But, below the surface of me, lies my fear of doing something wrong.

I wasn’t afraid when I sent my carry-on backpack through the airport X-ray.  That’s because I didn’t know the knife was still there.

I’d shaken and searched my purse TWICE before deeming the knife I usually keep there as missing and the purse as airplane safe.  Nope.  The sneaky sucker had worked its way into the bottom lining of my purse, thank you very much.

Do you know what happens when a weapon is discovered in a hidden compartment of a traveler’s luggage?  It escalates the issue to a new level.  Lesson #1.

Security found the knife, I explained what happened, and an ex-police officer informed me that, for that kind of knife, it’s a misdemeanor to carry it on the city limits.  Lesson #2.

I was mortified.  I apologized profusely, and I think my genuine horror assured them this was an accident.  I don’t doubt they could have detained me and made me miss my flight.

When that beautiful knife makes its way back home in the mail, she’s not going back in my purse.

I don’t need to prove my toughness with a spring-assisted Kershaw.  I’ll let who I am speak louder than what I pack in my handbag.

Good grief.

 

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SheKnows Date Night Article & My New Columnist Status!

Posted on April 27, 2012 by

Some of you have heard the news that I just had my first pro-level article published through SheKnows Magazine.

I sent them an article about ideas to keep a married couple’s date night fun and interesting, and they loved it.

Then they invited me to write for them on a monthly basis! *excited squeal*

See my first SheKnows article here.  The Importance of Date Night for Married Couples: Fresh Alternatives to Popcorn and a Movie

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Because I Knew You – Guest Post by Mary Katherine Givler

Posted on April 26, 2012 by

Please join me in welcoming the beautiful and talented Mary Katherine Givler.  Mary Katherine is one of my friends I’ve known from birth.  She was in my wedding and I was in hers.

Throughout our teens her, her sister and I were  known to write dramatic fantasy stories, as well as tape-record our renditions of such strange things as an interviews with all nine main characters of the Fellowship of the Ring as well as with Gollum (the latter ended when raspy-voiced guest ate the radio show host).  We were also known to laugh and talk so fast when we were together, my father swore he couldn’t understand what we were saying.

Mary Katherine is a woman who knows how to have fun, to love deeply, and to dream big.  This is a beautiful post about someone who kept creativity alive when things got tough.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************BECAUSE I KNEW (KNOW?) YOU by Mary Katherine Givler

I have had writer’s block since I graduated college. I have pleaded all the normal excuses: too much work at my day job, not enough inspiration, too tired, not enough time, too hungry. I’m like an equestrian who fell off a horse two years ago and has yet to get back on. But through all this frustration, there is one person who still believes in me as a writer.

I first met Andrew when I was 18. It was at a mutual friend’s party, and we didn’t talk at all. When we ran into each other at a coffee shop nearly a year later, we talked music. The next time, movies. I didn’t know this at the time, but he started camping out at my favorite table whenever he wasn’t in class, in the hopes of seeing me.

Before long, we talked about books. After liking all the same movies, we were surprised to find we despised each other’s taste. He liked fantasy: urban and high. Favorite books? The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. I liked poetry and the character-driven works my professors introduced me to. Favorite? Peace Like a River by Leif Enger, a novel that simultaneously reminds of me To Kill a Mockingbird, an old western, and the Gospel of Mark. When I asked Andrew to read it, he only made it halfway through before stopping from boredom. When I started to read his favorite series, I struggled with the material – a private-investigator-wizard in modern day Chicago. I did, however, make it through the first two books in the (then) 12-book series.

I grew up in a family that loved stories, and Andrew shared this love. When he asked me to collaborate on the screenplay for a feature film project, I couldn’t say no. We fell in love arguing about a character’s motivation and trying to pin down the perfect ending for the story.

With the film company we built, we started to produce advertisements, short films, and music videos. On a Friday in February 2010, he picked me up from my day job and drove us to the set. We were shooting some test footage before the real actress showed up, so I stood in. As I traded lines with the other stand-in, one of our camera men, Andrew stepped in, pushed him out of the way, got down on one knee, and asked the best question I have ever heard: “Will you be my wife?” It was all caught on camera.

During our first few months of marriage, I was trying to get through my last semester of classes and simultaneously keep food on the table and our home livable. I started to forget the dream I had of writing. But Andrew kept bugging me to try, even just an occasional poem.

There’s no one more sympathetic to writer’s block than another writer. Watching him work through his own writer’s block, and then flourish, is what kept me trying. Last year, he was in the middle of finishing his degree, working 30 hours a week, and still found time to write 1,000 words of his novel every day.

It is because of this discipline that he is in the revision process of a 100,000-word novel. And it is good. Everyone should be so lucky as to have someone in their life whom they believe in this much. His talent and discipline inspires me to keep trying. Every day.

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Mary Katherine Givler works in administrative health care during the day and battles writer’s block at night. She lives in Moscow, Idaho, with her husband Andrew and kittens Hobbes and Houdini. If you want to know more, you can find her at flavors.me/marykatherine

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Barefoot

Posted on April 23, 2012 by

During a recent bout of summer-like weather, I decided to barefoot run.

I suggest trying it at least once in your life (find smooth, clean asphalt). The  firmness of the ground pounding against your bare feet is incredible.

I brushed up against more than asphalt on my run around Green Lake; I got the reminder that sometimes the fastest and easiest way isn’t 100% of the time the best: Maybe I don’t need my high tech running shoes to do it right.

There was a little pride involved with this run: barefoot running is viewed by many as “bad-ass,” and I don’t mind the attention (okay fine, I crave it).

As I ran, I saw five turtles on a log, soaking up sun, no longer huddled below the murky surface. I, like them, had escaped the murky ceiling of Seattle clouds.

My mom ran with me. She’s in her 50s, has always been interested in health, but she usually does things like dance or yoga, the less-intense stuff. I’ll say it again: My mom ran with me.

When I took off my shoes, I stopped churning through the crowd in a gasping blur. I got to see that adorable cohort of turtles. I sighed with pleasure at the velvety lawn when I stepped off the pavement.

Just to make sure I didn’t forget, the next day a million new muscles between my knee and ankle chorused their recollections of the prior day’s adventure.

Don’t forget this, they whispered.

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Because I Knew You – Guest Post by Adriel Hollandsworth

Posted on April 19, 2012 by

This post comes from someone very special to me.  Adriel has known me since I was born.  She was the older sister I never had.  Our mothers were sisters who lived in the same city, so Adriel and I, the cousins, grew up with a very tight relationship.  I cried with despair when she left for college and I wailed in the bathroom after her wedding ceremony last summer because I just couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up.

Adriel is a talented, deep writer and I love everything she puts on paper.  This post is heart and magic and the stuff that touches the soul.  She’s taken a unique spin on the prompt, looking at how one special place has changed her life.

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Pier at Catalina

BECAUSE I KNEW YOU by Adriel Hollandsworth

For my life, the “nature vs. nurture” question has a simple answer: nurture all the way. Everything I am today has come from a multiplicity of relationships and the real question for me is whether there really is a me at all. I feel like a mosaic of hundreds of people – their voices, hands, eyes, laughs, journeys… really, who am I not?

For me, however (and perhaps this is my unique piece), besides people there is an alternate shaping character set of my life: Places.

The lure of a new place emboldens me. And, all those people who have influenced my life… at least 70% I would never have met if it weren’t for the travel bug.

I’ve been places from Honduras to Hawaii, from Edmonton to England, from Dehli to Dubai… and a lot of places in between. And each place discovered has given me permanent gifts and longings that have turned into one voice of melancholy for, I’m sure, what must be heaven – the perfect place I was made for but have never actually seen. Each place has its own whisper hinting at it.

But not all places are equal in whispering of heaven or teaching me lessons or providing life-altering conversations.

Catalina.

Catalina Island, twenty-six miles off the coast of Los Angeles (and twenty-six miles long), the most popular of the Channel Islands, the dry desert isle used for filming Westerns in the early twentieth century, populated with buffalo and dotted with only two small towns… Catalina. Eucalyptus trees scenting the wind. Catalina. Cold salt water with dark rock jetties and kelp beds, full of little eyes and silver streaks darting to-and-fro and the occasional bright orange garibaldi or sparkling abalone shell. Catalina. Foxes, barracuda, wild pigs, hermit crabs, the Toyon cherry, poison oak, sage, quail, rocks, rocks and more rocks, prickly pear cactus, dust, palm trees, monkey flowers, seagulls, seals, sharks, stars. Catalina. Sail boats, kayaks, pick-up trucks, golf-carts, ice-cream stores, lifeguards, piers, fishing poles, bright beach towels and sunscreen. Catalina.

Catalina has been one place of constancy my entire life. I often would stay for the summer and work at camp, and my senior year of high school, I spent the entire spring there working.

Ocean View from Catalina's CBS camp

At Catalina, I first jumped off a pier.

At Catalina, I first started breaking some rules (it needed to happen).

At Catalina, I first fell in love.

At Catalina, I first experienced betrayal and rejection.

At Catalina, I first experienced God as with me in the midst of pain.

At Catalina, I first went night-swimming in breath-taking, sparkling bioluminescence.

At Catalina, at the admonition of my artistic aunt, I first learned to fully inhale moments with every sense – smell, taste, touch, hear, see – to expand my experience and memories. To this day, I can conjure up Catalina in every one of my senses, and it’s one of the few places I can do that.

At Catalina, as adults, me and my cousins found true friendship in the midst of brokenness shared. A cheating fiancé, an eating disorder, fighting for parental visitation rights… We realized we were no longer kids and we needed one another.

At Catalina, I learned most friends are seasonal, and all friends change. But those moments of friendship shared shape the rest of your life.

At Catalina, I learned that climbing is exhausting, but the view from the top will give you amnesia – you can’t remember the pain once you see the panorama.

Elise and Adriel at Catalina

At Catalina, I learned that sometimes the only way to make it to the top of the cliff in sweltering heat is to make it one more step into the sage bush – to grasp a handful and smell it while you push on.

At Catalina, I learned that hard work precedes the most satisfying play.

At Catalina, I learned I was meant to swim.

At Catalina, I learned that the best kind of living only leaves room for a quick whisk of mascara daily, and one dress-up weekly.

At Catalina, I learned that I long for quiet time at the opening and closing of a day, but that I need people in between.

At Catalina, I met someone who called me months later with his friends to tell me that they thought I was beautiful. I never heard from him again after that, but that random act of kindness was the death-knell to my life-long struggle with self-rejection. I still have my moments of insecurity, but when I hung up the phone with Stewart, something was permanently healed in my soul.

After the fire

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, at Catalina, I have found constancy that goes deeper than the surface. Fires have wiped out the original Catalina landscape I knew through childhood, but the roots of the burnt trees sent up shoots months later, and now the hillsides are growing again. The original trees are gone forever, but new life comes again… bringing the same smells, the same colors, the same visitors, the same animals once more.

And in my life, the disasters that wipe out my plans or make dramatic, permanent, unsolicited changes… I have finally found and admitted that they don’t ruin and end my life. Yes, certain things and people are gone for good. But, after a season of darkness and watery cold, the deep roots underneath sprout again.

I don’t know who I would be today if it weren’t for Catalina and the space that island provided for me to grow, learn, change. More than any other place on earth, this island has shaped me.

What’s your Catalina?

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Adriel Hollandsworth has been writing almost as long as she’s been traveling to Catalina Island. While her subject matter has vastly changed over the years from illustrating stories of jungle princesses (age 9) to 70-page unfocused sci-fi drama (age 14) to melancholic, attention-seeking introspective blogging (age 20), writing stuff down is as vital to her survival as breathing. When she isn’t writing, she’s probably reading, running, bantering with her husband, or discovering someplace new.

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