Hi folks, I'm a novelist as well as a picture book author. I am especially fortunate that way, lucky, if you will. I am half a century old and over the course of my journey, the nature of luck has been made clear to me. This month my series is Lucky March, where I'm exploring the wonder of luck in our lives.
Oh, March has brought waves of luck to my life. My book Plumb Crazy is almost ready to be released again as an ebook and in paper for the first time. It will be under my alter ego name: Cece Barlow! I'm traveling to Washington state to visit with dear friends in April for a writing retreat marathon. I feel grateful and happy. I am just glad to be part of the verse.
This week I will respond to Walt Whitman's poem, "Oh, me! Oh, life!" Go here to read his genius words.
Here is truth to me. I don't really understand myself, and life is so far beyond me--like the stars to a speck of dirt. And yet I'm caught up with the mundane of my species. I see multitudes people gossiping, slandering, and back-stabbing. I live with folks who share knowledge to ends of the Earth and wonder: has it helped? Art has lost value, faith is fading except for the worst of it, and foolishness flows over the edges of every vision, in this ad-driven, branded, socialized bumper sticker world. The sideshow prophets declare that written words are dying.
Don't think I'm not caught up in it all. I am in that multitude, my head turning toward the visual nonsense, the profane silliness, and the unholy devaluation, when I could spend this moment being so much more. Yes, I am just as faithless as the rest.
Here's the thing. I want light. I want meaning, I want purpose, but I am mired in empty useless years that I wasted for no good reason. I did not open my eyes earlier, so I must open them now. I am woven in the fabric of my times. I am asking, shouting really at the great universe, struggling to not let the waves of sadness overcome me.
What good can I do? I look out but those words fall on my beating heart. Life! What good can I do? My hands curl into fists, and I shake like a leaf being ripped by a storm wind.
The answer comes to me, whispering, still, soft. A voice! You are here, dear one.. You were born. You breathe. You are are. This is the great poem, and you are allowed to contribute one verse to it all. Write your verse. This is the gift of life.
Lucky me! Lucky you! I hope you think about the verse you are writing. I pray that you do the most with what you have to offer. We all need you to do that. I will be back next week with more Lucky March.
NO doodle this week! But here is a sneak peek at my book cover for PLUMB CRAZY! I am so excited to share this with you! I hope that you share it too!
"The basic hidden thing that every Loser Girl knows—she has value, like every person, star, whale, rock, and slug. The whole universe has its share of risks. Slugs get stepped on, whales are hunted, stars explode, and people, well, people are fragile, easy to break. She was a secret unseen commodity, like di-lithium crystals found on planets that few would visit and even fewer could endure. Riches hid inside of her. No one had found them yet. But they would. It was just how the universe was put together."
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