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NEWS! (The Good Kind)

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Hello Dear Friends,

I have some tremendous news: I'm honored and delighted to announce that

Sara Crowe, of Pippin Properties, is now my agent!  This is me these days:





In a word: HAPPY.

If you don't have much experience with the publishing industry, you might be wondering what having an agent means. The key point is that having a literary agent, a *good* literary agent is one of the most important steps on the path to selling and publishing a book. It's also one of the hardest to achieve. Agents are flooded with queries and sample chapters year round. They have to A) absolutely love a story and B) think they have a good chance of selling it, before they can offer representation to an author. When I queried Sara with TOUGH, my middle grade science fiction project, I knew the odds were slim to none that she'd pick it up. But she did. And with that YES, my life as a writer is on a new and thrilling path. Sara is an accomplished and well-respected professional in her field. …

Found: On Fragility and Time

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It was a bright but freezing day. My little beach was completely empty, so I walked alone, with my hood up and my head full of worries about the recent headlines. Politics, injustice, dissent, and prejudice ricocheted through my mind. I kicked stones and muttered angrily. I couldn't write. I didn't want to. It was high tide. The water was calm in contrast with my thoughts.



When the water's high, there's usually nothing much to find. After all, it's the waves that leave treasure. People usually just leave trash.

Nevertheless, as is often the case, it felt like the universe chose to drop me a sign. A few of them. All strange and troubling in their own ways. The first was a pair of scuffed and sea-washed sunglasses that read "Seattle" on one side and "Storm" on the other.



This might have been a positive signal. The Seattle Storm are a women's basketball team and a damn fine one at that. But something about the glasses bothered me. I put the…

Rhysling Nomination

In a world gone mad with terrible news, I received a bit of happy news this past week. My poem, "When the Gunman Comes", has been nominated for a Rhysling Award. I feel astonished, slightly embarrassed, and deeply grateful to the kind soul (whoever you are) who did this lovely thing for me and my poem.

The poem, first published in Mythic Delirium Magazine by the generous Mike Allen, is an exploration of my anxieties about gun violence in America. I still feel close to the sentiments reflected there.

To learn more about the Rhysling Award, click here.

Thank you all, again, for your support.

Transformation

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Hello sweet friends,



I hope this post finds you well and journeying into the new year with relative ease. I'm feeling okay, though I admit I'm still deeply troubled by the headlines. I'm doing my best to keep my gaze fixed on action, beauty, and art, but I can sense Panic prowling nearby, a hungry old cat. Not that I would deny my fear. I think she just needs to settle by the fire instead of attacking my feet, if you know what I mean.



In more cheerful news, this morning, as I paused in the garden near my children's school, I noticed a definite shift in the air. The birds must have noticed it too because they were out in abundance, chattering and clamouring away in the green cedars and barren oaks. 

Winter is still with us, but a long, slow thaw is beginning to relax the land. The ground is softening.

The wind is not quite as sharp. 

The ice is melting. 

As my little corner of the world slowly transforms over the coming weeks and months, and as our country and world tr…

Time & Silence, Color & Light: On Being a Writer Now

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I often walk the small public shoreline near my home. This particular beach is cold but lovely, washed with multicolored stones, swells of coarse grey sand, and rags of jewel-toned seaweed lacing the land to the sea. Seabirds and shellfish are common sights, salmon and eagles a bit less so, and rarely, harbor seal pups sleep on the sand while their mothers hunt.


Each time I walk, I try to remind myself to be present and content with the beauty around me, but I often find myself naturally searching for something. I scan the sand for seashells, shards of colorful sea glass, a surprising stone, or even an image to collect and share with friends and family online. My search is both causal and methodical. Every few steps, I check the ground, I look up at the sky, I look out over the water, I look down again. When the weather is wet or windy, as it is in the fall, I’m often alone. A few times -very few times- on this journey, I’ve found something of interest or extraordinary beauty in the …

Sirens : Lovers

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Hello sweet friends,

Thanks for stopping by! I'm newly returned from my fourth time attending Sirens Conference, a wonderful experience designed especially for readers and writers of women in fantasy. I've said a lot about this conference in the past and you can find those entries here: 2013, 2014, 2015. This time, I'll hit the highlights and just say that Sirens continues to be an affirming and centering weekend. I'm so grateful to all the staff, volunteers, guests of honor, presenters, and attendees who make each year incredibly special and important.
Darian, Lola, and I started our weekend on Wednesday at my mother's home in the foothills. We visited, sang, ate, sipped tea, and hiked a while in the red rocks nearby. (My mom and stepdad live in the foothills near Castlerock.)

My sweet mama at the piano:


Darian on a cliff:


Lola among the rocks:


On Thursday, refreshed and rested, we made our way to the Inverness Hotel in Denver where we registered and ate an early d…