Sunday, September 12, 2021

Two Sisters at the Market

 Every Saturday from May to October I stand behind my table at the Kingston Farmer's Market. Some days offer more book sales than others and I am always happy for the sales. Making my table is the goal and I have always been able to do that. But so much more than the total books sales each week provides, is the gift of the people I meet. Each Saturday I see neighbors, friends and family. I usually get a hug from Alida and Elinor, have a nice chat with Jim, touch base with my sister in law Louisa, wave to folks walking by, glimpse people out in the courtyard and meet lots of new people. I usually sell a few books to those who come by to get the latest or maybe buy a gift for someone. I meet lots of new readers. Yesterday I had a woman and her husband come by who have bought books from the start , one book in particular having a family connection for her. A character in The Sewing Basket was based on her aunt and yesterday she told me of that aunt's passing. I have dedicated readers who wait for each new book. I have readers that come back after reading one book to get more. Always there are meaningful interactions that make the early morning worthwhile. Yesterday among all the others it was meeting two sisters, Alison and Julie. I noticed them at the jewelry table next to me. Attractive ,vibrant women enjoying their time together. A brief stop at my table can go  several ways; polite acknowledgement, a nod or greeting, " Are you Susan White?" gets asked a lot, pickups , some back reading , a question or two. Sometimes the person states some familiarity with my work; they heard an interview or saw my books somewhere. Maybe they have read a book or two. Sometimes students stop and say they remember having read or being  read one of my books in school. Lots of interactions take place in the five hours I stand behind my table. But sometimes those interactions are deep and meaningful , the discussion and sharing is profound and generous. Sometimes tears well up or fall and connection is made. The amazing thing is that every Saturday I am given at least one of those interactions. Alison bought The Year Mrs. Montague Cried after a short, meaningful conversation. She left the  dining room and her sister stayed behind and we continued talking. I will not even attempt to detail the ground that conversation covered except to say it was raw and real and touched us both. Two strangers let their guard down and shared a bit of the sorrow , the joy and the wisdom life has dished up. Julie bought The Year Mrs. Montague Cried even though she could have borrowed it from her sister. But of course it is not the book sale that mattered to me. On this quiet Sunday morning as I absorb and process the day ,sitting  quietly with my inner voice I recall the minutes two sisters and an author were given. This happened because I showed up and they stopped and we spoke and listened to one another going further than a polite hello , allowing another person to see what lies behind the face we present as we move through this world. It is moments like those that will bring me back next Saturday and keep me at the keyboard. 


 

Tuesday, August 31, 2021

Just Saw my Son

 I took a break from work to go for a walk on this gorgeous afternoon. I walked a couple of blocks to where my boys are working on the Wentworth complex. I scanned the windows looking for them. I was pretty sure I spotted my youngest son so walked back and forth on the sidewalk across the street waiting for another sighting. When I'm sure it's him I stop  and  stare up at the window hoping he will look out. He spots me and gives me a big smile and a wave. My heart fills and I walk away with the joy of the sighting. My work in progress is a story of a mother whose son goes missing and she lives her remaining twenty some years never knowing where he is or what has happened to him. I caught sight of my son for seconds and the happiness I felt speaks loudly to the depth of a mother's love . I get back to a text from my daughter saying she will come for supper and a movie date. How full this mother's heart is. I hold each one of my four children  in my heart and treasure each sighting even when the sighting of one can only be photographs, dreams or memories. Now back to work!



Monday, August 30, 2021

When the Teachers go Back

 I feel this day even though this is the  twelfth  year I have not had to go back. But on this day I feel the end of  August sadness , excitement , challenge and pressure. I remember the marathon of meetings, the creativeness of classroom set up, the catch up  with colleagues, the changes and the giving up of summer. For eleven years I returned to writing on the day the teachers went back and was so happy to do so. This year my summer routine changed drastically and I have been at my desk in July and August but still feel the importance of this day to get myself back to some serious work. I have one ms a third done and have just begun another. I must settle myself today to concentrate on one or the other and possibly taking the time to blog this morning is my way of avoiding this decision. Or maybe it will help me arrive at the decision and I will follow up with some new words being written and a direction being cemented. Going back is on my mind for other reasons and the next few weeks and months will navigate that as well. But for this day August 30, 2021 as teachers go back and a new school year is planned and navigated I will take comfort in exactly where I am. I will stand proud of my past , my present and look with hope to the future. I will relish the words written in the last twelve years and the words yet to write. I will hold all teachers and especially Brianne and Jenna in my thoughts  and remember what it is they are feeling on this day. I will be thankful for the years I was right there with them and thankful for the years since. I will be thankful for the books I read to my students and the books I've written that are in classrooms and in  the hands of today's teachers. I will settle down to write and look forward to some author visits that will take me back  into schools as an author. How very lucky I am !


Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Out My Small Window

 I love summer. I also love the fall, winter and spring. Seasons are such a gift and carry us year after year. Last night on my city street walk I felt the tug of the next season in the gentle cool breeze. As stated earlier this season is very different and I am daily adjusting, processing and settling myself to my present situation. But in reality of course that is always the case. Life is not a stagnant experience but a constant state of flux. We know not what will come at us next. This morning I look out my small window and it is another day of overcast, misty skies. I have to get to a brand new work only a few paragraphs in and that is both exciting and frightening.  Yesterday I finished the read through of the designers draft of The Wright Retreat and feel the excitement of its final stretch toward publication. A new small window of opportunity is what each season provides. I will embrace the days left of summer, the lake swims I will get , the warm sun and colorful flowers. I will figure out the path I'm on and work toward a healthy road back. The zigs and zags and obstacles are the unknown but the tools I have are there whichever season and whatever comes along.  I will keep my tool box full, pay attention to what  I put in and what I take out. This is the day I will face and for that I am grateful!


Wednesday, August 11, 2021

Finding Me

 Amid preparation for tomorrow's launch; you know picking an outfit, deciding on glasses vs no glasses, choosing and practicing a reading and settling on what  will be seen in the background I feel the need to write a blog entry. I also feel the desire to start a brand new book from a blank page with only a snippet of an idea but that will wait for another day. Earlier I went out to attend to some errands; vehicle registration, purchase lipstick for my non existent lips , return library books, buy fruit and one cob of corn. On my walk back I felt  excitement and  elation and it occurred to me it felt like when I was a kid or at least a young adult embarking on an adventure. It felt so good. It felt like I had found me. Now some might say I ran away from home, perhaps they would say I left my marriage, some might think I left my kids and grand kids. Others might marvel that I left the home , the farm , the lake and the life I love. There is a shred of truth in all of that perhaps but I would argue that instead of leaving anything I ran toward something and that something or someone is me. I ran to where I find myself right now to find myself. To some that might sound dramatic but I don't particularly care what it sounds like. For now all I care about is what it feels like. I am hurting no one, abandoning or betraying no-one . I am taking care of me.




 

Friday, July 30, 2021

When a New Book Comes

A mix of dark and white fluffy clouds, sunshine streaming through after a day of rain, a truck racing between stop signs on  Sydney Street, folks walking by my windows; a Friday early evening and a good time to write a blog entry. July is winding down quickly and yesterday I opened the first box filled with copies of Skyward. I am always excited to hold a finished book and do not tire of the thrill. I remember opening the first box of The Year Mrs. Montague Cried. I sat in the Shopper's Drug Mart parking lot and sobbed holding the first book as I pulled it out of the box. I still fill with emotion when I really think of the journey that brought that book in to existence. I would have to search my writing journals to determine exactly when the existence of Skyward began but I know the work that took it from the seed of an idea to the book I placed in the book ends last night. I have announced Skyward's arrival, posted proud pictures and had lots of congratulatory comments. Tomorrow I will take it to the market and send it out into the world. So far only Burton and Megan have received copies. I had some copies ordered for a school by a teacher friend and will be pleased to do a follow up visit when school starts. My online launch will be Aug 12th at 7:00. Check out the event on my author Facebook page. I may even at sometime later in the fall have an in person gathering to celebrate book ten. I really want Mitchell Barr to make chocolate cakes with boiled icing so we can eat cake and celebrate. 

Wednesday, July 21, 2021

A Writing, Healing Residency

 The summer of 2021, a much different summer. A summer in the city. A summer where I walk a different route and rest my head at the end of the day in a different place. I gaze out different windows at a different landscape. Somehow in my weariness, confusion and fear I finally realized that  I needed to take care of myself before I could take care of anyone else. I had reached the end of a taut and fraying rope. I am writing this summer which is not the norm. I usually spend long hours in a garden, make several daily trips to my lake and put writing on hold until a later date. But this summer I am writing, I am resting and allowing myself a reprieve. I am stepping back from the normal and finding my way toward peace and healing. And  I am allowing the people in my life to find their way toward that for themselves without my daily worry and obsession with their well being as if by doing all I did I could fix or prevent their  hurt and struggle. I am on a writing /healing residency of my own choosing. Today I wrote the last lines of a book I'd been running from. Today hopefully Skyward left the printer and is on it's way to my waiting hands and heart. Today I walked on city sidewalks with a friend who'd come in to have lunch with me. Later I walked the same sidewalks to meet Meg and the girls at the library and spent some time in their company. I was a well Monkey, a happy Monkey and what better Monkey do I want for them. I walked back to my small space and sat to write the last chapter of Jasper's Road, the third book following Amelia's story. Walton Lake Road, a road in my heart and the road I drove away from several weeks ago. One healing day at a time is the gift I embrace today and as the street lights come on I am thankful for this day.


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