Three's Not a Crowd

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My daughter called me the other day to tell me she'd met with her advisor to pick out her classes for next semester. She was pleased with how the meeting had gone and excited to tell me about her new schedule -- the one that would start in January.

How did this happen? Weren't we just decorating her dorm room a couple of weeks ago, trying not to complain about the heat in a dorm that still, in the twenty-first century, did not come equipped with air conditioning?

Sort of. Parent and Family Weekend was just a couple of weeks ago, and we were in her dorm room, swapping out summer clothes for winter. That night, the room was a cozier temperature than it had been in August and, although none of us said so, we were counting the days until Thanksgiving, spurred by the task of making train reservations.

Has it really been almost nine weeks?

It's not that I don't miss her. We've just all done what we're supposed to do. Gone to work. Gone to classes. Fallen into a new routine.

A new normal.

Discovering that new can be normal is kind of cool. Who knew my husband and I could be a family of two again without tap dancing around a big, empty hole in the house? Who knew that we could morph back into a family of three as though two months hadn't passed, and then step back again, even as we counted the days until Thanksgiving break?

Thousands -- or more likely millions -- of parents knew this. And they could have told us. And, on some level, we'd have believed them. But, as the old saying goes, "seeing is believing."

Time passes -- quickly sometimes, and, other times, excruciatingly slowly. Texts are exchanged, along with the occasional phone call, and conversations shift as new roles and new boundaries are established.

But life is good. She is happy. And mostly, so are we.

But the best news of all is, despite the distance, we remain a family.

Of three.

Friday Feature: Time Management...in Retirement?

When you think of retirement, what comes to mind? No more alarm clocks? Sailing around the world? Pursuing a hobby, or maybe even a new career?

I'm betting that time management doesn't even crack the top ten.

But, when you think of it, what could be more important when you suddenly find yourself with more leisure time to manage?

As it turns out, those who manage their time are happier in retirement than those who don't. I'm not talking about checklists and daily schedules, here -- more like a flexible set of goals and wishful to-dos. Kind of like the way parents are encouraged to look at a toddler's diet -- a week-in-view big picture rather than a day-by-day line item assessment.

Actually, this makes quite a bit of sense. By the time we retire, it's been decades since we've had hours of free time to play with every day, so it's only logical that it might take some time and practice to find a new balance.

So go ahead. Make those retirement plans. And, while you're at it, make that bucket list, too.

You're going to want to have some things to put on your calendar.

I'm Better When I Have a Plan

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Sometimes, the most important part of being a writer is being prepared. Today, for example, I had a doctor's appointment. Based on past experience, I expected to be in the waiting room for a while, so I arrived prepared. I had my laptop, my notebook and an article I was using as a reference for an piece I was writing.

Good thing.

As I type this, I've been in the waiting room for over an hour. I took a blog post from notes to completion, using my phone as a hot spot so I could do the necessary research (the on-site wireless access wasn't doing the trick). And now I've begun this blog.

When I first started writing seriously, I devoted a block of time every Friday morning to my craft. For a long time, I thought that was the only way I could write, but, over time, I learned that if I was serious about writing, I had to adapt. When I first retired, I had entire days at my disposal, and when I don't have a full teaching load, my morning sprints work wonderfully. But these days, when teaching requires a chunk of time every day, I'm back to doing what I did when I worked full time -- writing in life's nooks and crannies and waiting rooms.

Admittedly, certain kinds of writing lend themselves better to small snippets of time than others. Blogs, articles, promos and already-sketched-out pieces and chapters are easier to pound out in sections than a blank page waiting to be filled or next scene waiting to be determined.

But writing is like exercise, albeit without the cardio benefits. The more we write -- no matter what it is we're writing -- the better we get at it, and the easier it is to do, even under less-than-ideal conditions.

So, as my characters wait patiently for me to return to them, I'm checking other projects off my list so that when I get a chunk of time at my disposal, I'm not distracted by deadlines and shorter works, but can, instead, figure out that next scene and put it on the page.

That's the plan, anyway. And having a plan is half the battle.

Happy Birthday!

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We've been celebrating a lot of birthdays month. My mom hit a milestone this year -- one that surpasses the 29th anniversary of her 29th birthday -- and we celebrated a friend's (substantially smaller) milestone last Saturday. My husband's birthday is three days after my mom's, and our friend and his college-aged daughter both celebrate in October as well.

Clearly, this is not the first year that we're celebrating all of these birthdays, but as I look at the range of ages, it strikes me that not all birthdays are created equal. When we're kids, we can't wait for our birthdays to arrive. Birthdays mean cake and presents and parties and a day that's all about us.

As young adults, we begin celebrating our birthdays differently. Our friend's daughter celebrated her first at-college birthday, something our daughter will do next month. As we head deeper into adulthood, the shimmer of birthdays begins to dull. We focus more on the celebrations of our children, and, over time, acknowledge our own birthdays only grudgingly.

Why did we develop this backwards view, where youth is to be celebrated, but that a life well-lived is to be somehow brushed aside, obscured by a number which, in the end, means nothing?

I don't mean to get morbid here. I'm just wondering: why don't we strike up the band and create a big fanfare for every year that we're alive and accomplished? Do we find it somehow frivolous? Do we think we're too mature? If so, who convinced us that trading in a party for maturity was somehow a good deal?

My mom has been alive for more decades than she wants me to tell you. She and my dad have been married for more than fifty years. They've raised two daughters who've grown up, moved out and added new branches to the family tree. My parents have friends, family and colleagues who value them, support them and remember when they could dance all night, but who love them just as much now that they'd rather stay in and watch Netflix. When my sister and I planned their golden wedding anniversary celebration, it was small, at their request, but what it lacked in numbers, it more than made up for in love.

Love. Pride. Relationships. Friends. Family. Respect. These are indicators of a life well-lived, things that are earned and burnished with time. And birthdays give us an opportunity to acknowledge them. So why not make the day of our birth a celebration? Instead of measuring them against the high points of years past -- and often coming up short -- why don't we make them a day that celebrates the things that take a lifetime to achieve and appreciate?

I know, I know. I'm being childish and self-indulgent. Maybe I should just grow up.

Or maybe that's what I want to celebrate in the first place.

Friday Feature: Self-Evaluation

This semester, I'm once again teaching a first year seminar where we're talking about things like success, perfection and happiness. My goal isn't just to get my students to think about these things and learn about them, but also to get them to think about themselves in relation to these things and to maybe discover a little something about who they are, and who they want to be in the process.

As a result, I'm compiling quite a collection of articles toward that end. This one, from Dan Waldschmidt's blog, was posted last New Year's Eve -- a great time for introspection and personal reflection.

But what if we don't have to be college freshmen to ask ourselves these questions? What if we don't simply reassess around the start of a new year?

How would you answer these ten questions?

5 Things I Want My Readers to Know

Beach bums or my next cast of characters?
(Photo: Morguefile)

A while back, a fellow author posted things she wanted her readers to know about her. I thought that was a pretty cool idea, so I jotted down a few ideas of my own, and thought I'd share five writer-type things I want my readers to know about me. 

It all starts with the characters. For me, everything begins with the people -- the story, the plot, the entire book. I start by creating a cast of characters -- who they are, what they like, what they dislike, what they want -- and a problem or inciting event. From there, the rest of the story emerges.

I'm a pantser. I don't plot. Sure, I have an idea of where I want the story to go, but my characters usually express their opinions, too. In the end, I may or may not end up where my synopsis said I was going (I usually don't). You've heard of flying by the seat of one's pants? That's how I write.

I enjoy promotion. Although I truly dislike promotion of the "buy my book" variety, I love any form of promotion that puts me in touch with readers. I like writing newsletters, crafting blogs, tweets and Facebook posts and meeting people at book signings and events. It feeds a different part of my creative side than writing does, and the feedback I receive really does get filtered into my books. One reader comment can trigger an entire subplot. 

I don't read nearly as much as I'd like to -- at least not when it comes to novels. As much as I try to squeeze in my stack of novels, I end up reading mostly non-fiction unless I'm on vacation. During the school year, I read a lot of articles and books in the psychology/social science realm, but, since I believe everything we read impacts us in some way, I draw inspiration from these materials, too -- not just for the classes I teach and the articles I write, but also for my fiction, if indirectly.

I find a lot of my reading material on Twitter. My Friday Feature has become one of my favorite things to write, and I often find the article that sparks it all in a tweet. I read very little in the way of print media any more, instead finding the "latest and greatest" via social media, which leads me to the electronic version.

As much as I complain and become frustrated over a lack of writing time, I really do believe that a writer can't write unless she has a life and experiences to inspire her. Fortunately, my life provides plenty of those things. 

So Long, Starbucks

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Today is the last day my favorite Starbucks will be open. This evening, the baristas will close this store for the last time and, tomorrow, they will begin readying a new store, one that will open on Friday.

One that's even closer to my house than the old one. And has a drive-through.

But I can't imagine I'll avail myself of the drive-through, at least not very often. For me, the allure of my Starbucks has always been the cafe. There, I run into other regulars, along with friends I haven't seen in quite some time. I have coffee dates, even though I don't drink coffee.

And I write.

Message from one of the baristas
(who's also a writer) who knew I was
working on book revisions.

Big chunks of my first novel were written in the cafe at the Randolph Park Starbucks. Sections of the next novel, the one that sat in a drawer for close to a decade before I finally pulled it out and got serious about revising it, were written there as well. I had release celebrations for Casting the First Stone and Chasing a Second Chance there, and my book celebration at the Gettysburg Starbucks was made possible by a former Randolph Park barista who'd risen to the position of manager at a new store. And, when I needed a cake and yummy nibbles for my Casting the First Stone party, it was another Randolph Park barista who not only created it for me, but also made truffles and connected me with a colleague who baked giant cupcakes in gourmet flavors.

Remember Norm and Cheers? The Randolph Park Starbucks has long been my Cheers. No, they don't call out my name when I enter (well, one of the baristas does), but they know my drink, my job, my avocation, me. I talk with the baristas about kids, life and writing -- theirs and mine -- because they're more than just people who create my beverages. Many are my friends as well.

Fortunately, they'll be traveling to the new store, so that much -- the heart of the store -- will be the same. I haven't seen the inside of the new place, but if the exterior is any indication, I think I'm going to like it.

Still, I'll always have a special place in my heart for the Randolph Park store, and I'm hoping it doesn't become, well....

Kathleen Kelly: [writing to "NY152"] People are always telling you that change is a good thing. But all they're really saying is that something you didn't want to happen at all...has happened. My store is closing this week. I own a store, did I ever tell you that? It's a lovely store, and in a week it will be something really depressing, like a Baby Gap. Soon, it'll just be a memory. In fact, someone, some foolish person, will probably think it's a tribute to this city, the way it keeps changing on you, the way you can never count on it, or something. I know because that's the sort of thing I'm always saying. But the truth is...I'm heartbroken. (IMDb)

Okay, okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but I couldn't resist pulling in a quote from a favorite movie (You've Got Mail), especially since it was running around in my head. 

And endings are sad.

I guess a Baby Gap wouldn't be the worst thing. 

But it will never compare to my Starbucks.