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Rather than talking about what I want to do in 2016, I'm embracing what Julie Hedlund calls the "Anti Resolution Revolution."
     As she says, "Let’s first celebrate success and then determine how to carry that forward into the New Year rather than berating ourselves for what did not get done."
     I also like what Joe Jacobi (Olympic Gold-medalist) says in his article "Don't Be A Goalie - Why Goal Setting Doesn't Work For Me":"The problem with goals is that you focus on what you don't have now. The skinniness you don't have now. The increased income you don't have now. The freedom you don't have now. The friends and relationships you don't have now. The life you don't have now.
      That's too much "don't have now" and a complete energy suck away from what you DO HAVE right now.
      Goalies block shots. I want you to take shots. Shots on goals. Shots that score momentum, not points."
     With all this in mind, I am not setting any new goals for this year. Instead, I'm focusing on goals I've already accomplished. I recently found a list of goals I wrote for myself when I was about 25-years-old. I keep it in my personal treasures box. I was amazed at how my goals haven't changed. And while it took me a little longer to achieve them than I'd hoped, I've checked almost everything off of this list. Here is it:

     I've begun my MFA in Illustration. I'm married to an awesome man. I teach in the MFA in Writing and Illustrating Children's Books program at Hollins University (Virginia, US) every summer. I have over two dozen books published. I volunteered for an adult literacy program in Chattanooga. And I now live overseas in Scotland! I'm not fluent in French or Spanish yet, but I'm working on it and getting a lot of practice in this multi-cultural city. So, just like my other goals, I sincerely believe it's just a matter of time.
     Pretty cool, eh?

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Yesterday was unseasonably warm for Georgia - into the 60s! So Stan and I took Bernie for a walk. It had been a while since we'd been able to enjoy a leisurely sojourn outside, and it reminded me of how good these moments are for my creativity. When I suffer from writer's block or get stuck on a certain scene or puzzle in my writing, I go take a walk!
     In my neighborhood, a walk means going up what we affectionately call "poop alley" where everybody walks their dogs (hence the name). It's a dead end road just outside my neighborhood. There's only one house on it, so the half mile is mostly trees and rocks and banks covered with chipmunk dwellings. It also happens to be one Bernie's favorite places. We walk all the way to the end where the road meets the local elementary school before turning around. He loves it and so do I.

     I can't tell you how many times I've made this walk, trying to shake loose a problem or idea. Something about watching the birds diving through the canopy, my dog sniffing at invisible (to me) treasures, and the light filtering through various shades of green - it loosens the creative cogs.
     It also doesn't hurt that stories are waiting to be had on our little walk. For instance, meet "The Don." This is a male tom cat who lives a few houses up the street from us (and is one of the reasons our cat is an indoor cat). He is the boss of the street and I've seen him face off with many cats over the years.
     His ears used to stand up straight, until about a year ago. I'm sure some lesser cat required some straightening out. Ever since then, The Don has been much calmer, crooked ear and all - confident in his quiet control of our street as he basks in the sunshine on his concrete driveway.
Ironically, he's actually quite friendly - to humans. And he does get along with other cats, as long as they don't question his authority.
      We actually don't know his real name. But for us, for years, he has been "The Don." There's a story there, which I'll write one of these days. Or he'll become a character in a larger story. At any rate, do you see what I mean?
     Squirrels chasing each other, hawks soaring above, gentle breezes and dancing seedpods - they all have stories. Where did they come from, where are they going, what is the relationship, and why? They can all help shake your own story loose even if it's just adding some dimension to an already existing story, character, or setting.
     So, if you find yourself stuck with your writing - take a walk!
     Photos by Stan Dulemba.

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Downsizing isn't easy, but it must be done if we are to become more mobile for this move to Scotland. I'm realizing that a photo of a precious item can sometimes be enough to keep - that I often don't need the actual item. What I do need is the trigger for that memory. Because I plan to use these memories in my writing. Strong writing comes from being able to relate experiences that feel true and I have a lifetime to draw upon.
     One item I let go of was the first gift I ever received from a boy...
     My 5th birthday was looming and somehow Danny came into my life. He lived in a neighborhood that backed up to ours in Maryland. I don't recall how we met, but I do remember standing on the back stoop to our house. If I stepped off or tried to open the door to go inside, Danny would run forward to tickle me. He made me laugh - I like him!
     When I finally did make it inside, I asked my mother if Danny could come to my birthday party. He did! And he gave me a lovely jewelry box as a gift - a music box. It used to have a little ballerina that spun around with the music, but that disappeared long ago. It remained one of my most precious possessions for many years...until I realized it was the memory I cherished. The photo is enough to trigger the memory, and that is what I hold dear and what I will use - that first feeling of a heart in play. The jewelry box hasn't shown up in any of my stories yet, but I imagine it's just a matter of time. Meanwhile, maybe some other little girl is enjoying it.

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After months of training on the bunny hills, I finally graduated. I equate this to getting published. First it was magazines, then picture books and finally a novel was in the works. Staying with the flying analogy, it was time for me to fly off the top of Lookout Mountain. I wasn't nervous at all. (Yeah, right.)

     I usually flew as the light was fading and the sky calmed. Just like in publishing, in flying there are levels of degrees. We called these later flights sled runs, and wow, were they a rush. And what fun to overhear the onlookers whisper, "It's a girl!" as I leaped off the ledge. I loved it. I felt all-powerful! Unstoppable!
     After college... I would chug up to Chattanooga in my '78 Land Cruiser, my dream vehicle, to camp in the LZ - with my own tent. Part of being on the journey is slowly collecting the skills and tools you need. Nothing happens all of a sudden. I slowly created the lifestyle I wanted.

     For many years, my life was about flying, which is why I eventually moved to Chattanooga full-time. (My job at Buster Brown Apparel, drawing Charlie Brown and Snoopy, funded the adventure.)

And I flew!

     Eventually I even bought my own glider - a beautiful one with a cobalt blue edge.

     Many people thought I was crazy. Some admired how I chased my dream. Some focused only on the end result of these years of steady learning and growing to become the hang-glider pilot I was.
     It's so similar to writing and illustrating.
     People see me published now, with so many picture books and a novel under my belt. But to only see the end result is to make incorrect assumptions. Chasing dreams isn't easy - they take work. But there are steps you can take to achieve even the wildest dreams. The first step is deciding what that dream is and moving your life in that direction. Small decisions feed into the path from then on. And eventually, you will be ready for the mountain.
     I still dream about flying sometimes, and would never put it past me to take it up again someday. But for now, I am a children's book writer and illustrator. And as I say on my bio page - sometimes this business can feel just as crazy as jumping off a cliff with a kite tied to your back. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't jump!

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After that first taste at hang-gliding, I couldn't wait until I turned eighteen - old enough to fly. Time to chase my dream.
     My first real experience came through the University of Georgia. I was a senior (majoring in Graphic Design, focusing on illustration) and found out about a trip to a hang-gliding school at the last minute. I rented the last tent available through the rec center - it didn't have a fly cover, but I made do. I was on an adventure!

     I set it up in the LZ (landing zone) in the shadow of Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

     The first step to learning how to fly was to stay on the ground. We learned how to run with the glider. At the time I didn't understand this, but that nose up position is all wrong. It basically puts the wings in stall mode - it's how you land, not how you fly. It's your instincts saying 'but I want to go UP!' A sure sign of a beginner, but I was learning nonetheless.

     Just like writing or illustrating, I was laying the groundwork, learning the rules on which to build my structure, so that I could soar.
     After that first weekend, I saved every dime I could to go back and move further along in my training. Being a broke college student, the weekends were too few and far between, but I didn't give up.
     Equate that to learning how to write or illustrate - going to conferences, reading 'how to' books, taking classes and learning the in's and out's of the industry. Maybe you don't have the resources, so it seems to be a slow-moving process, but you're still on the journey.
     The next time I went up to Chattaboogie, we climbed a small hill (the bunny hill) with our gliders on our shoulders. We took turns running off the hill, trying to hold the glider in the correct position to fly. I've got it right in this photo, which is why I'm off the ground!

     It wasn't easy to do. Everything in my subconscious said, "I want to FLY!" Which made me push out on the bars, placing the glider in stall mode. And when it stalled, the glider would come crashing down, dragging me with it down the hill and... through the cow patties. Did I mention the bunny hill was in an active cow pasture? Yup. A victorious day of flight training ended with a harness covered in cow manure.
     This is a lovely analogy for writing and illustrating. There are the rejections, the failures, the jealousies, the general feelings of trying to do the impossible. Becoming a writer/illustrator is a mental game with yourself. It's can be so tempting to quit, but as they say, that's a sure way to fail.
     So I didn't care about the cow patties - literally being dragged through the muck - I was flying!

     Just as with publishing credits, eventually I graduated to the larger bunny hill.

After buying some new shoes which actually fit me and let me run better (appropriate tools), I mastered that hill too.

     And that led to the mountain...
     Keep reading to find out what happened next!

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In an earlier post, I mentioned my desire to fly. And in a weird way, my desire to fly makes a great analogy for the writer/illustrator I've become. Let's look at it that way...
     From a young age, I was fascinated by birds and flight.

I tried to come up with plans to build wings and to create the velocity I'd need to get off the ground. I wanted something that seemed impossible, but I figured if I could break it down to the basics, I might be able to solve how to do it.

I remember researching the bone structure of birds, the shape of their wings, and trying to understand the concepts of flight. Think grammar, outlining, sentence structure, etc. on the writing side. On the illustration side, think shape, light, air, density. It was a puzzle I wanted to figure out and recreate.

     So it was no surprise that when I learned about hang-gliding, I knew I wanted to try it!
     In high school, I heard about a flight simulator in Chattanooga, Tennessee and talked my dad into doing it with me. It was a great opportunity to dip in my toe and try it on for size. It was mostly a zip-line with a hang-glider attached. Pretty safe.

     But for a few seconds during my turn, I pulled the nose down, out of its stall and placing it into true flight mode. I'd found the sweet spot. It only lasted a moment, but much to my father's dismay, in those few seconds I experienced true flight and I was hooked. Writer and illustrators know that feeling: the perfect sentence, description, color, line.

     But I was young when I did this - only in high school. Dad said I'd have to wait until I was an adult, 18, before I could consider taking up hang-gliding seriously. Sometimes it's not the right time to chase our dream yet. He thought I'd forget by then. I didn't...

      Check back to hear what happened next...

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In preparation for our move to Scotland, I recently accomplished a huge goal. I culled down a lifetime of memories - letters, photos, albums, etc. into two waterproof containers ready for storage. I also took digital photos of most of the images so I'd have them in a format I could use and play with.
     It made me rather nostalgic looking back at all those photos. There are so many stories and I thought I might share a few...

     This is the house I grew up in as a child. It was a new neighborhood with few large trees in it. The back yards laced together like one uninterrupted picnic blanket.
     Even then, I dreamed of flying.

     My father told me that if I ran fast enough and flapped my arms hard enough, I would. So many evenings folks could look out their window to find that strange neighbor girl running across their back yards, flapping her arms like a drunk duck. I'd return home and swear that I'd gotten off the ground. It began a theme that ran through my life for many years. But that is for a later post...

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