Faith and Fairies
“I believe in fairies,” Gwyn tells me.
“Me, too,” I respond.
In our house we tell stories incessantly, and they’re all true. They began with Special Baby, Gwyn’s imaginary friend when she was two years old. Special Baby could do everything Gwyn couldn’t, like go to the library when it was closed and eat extra servings ofdessert. Then came Lilly the Lilac Fairy who lives in the gnarled lilac tree over Gwyn’s sandbox and who is too shy to show herself to grown-ups.
A Writer’s Polar Vortex
Here is one of the secret ironies of being a published author: As you move toward launching a book, your writing life is decimated. Those quiet, searching hours of half-starts and rambling experiments, those blessed days of research and play and discovery, those driving weeks of inspiration—as well as months of paralyzing self-doubt that this mess of words you’re accumulating will ever amount to anything—are replaced with two-hour conversations with your copyeditor about the proper formatting of ellipses and coaching sessions on how to use Pinterest to market your new book and the seemingly exciting but actually grueling work of setting up readings. I could whine about all this, but instead I want to make a point: It’s hard to stay balanced—it’s hard to keep writing—when you’re also publishing. Launching a book is its own creative endeavor, as I’ve explored in earlier posts, but it is not writing. I can’t…