I am a high school English teacher, published poet and essayist, freelance writer, and aspiring author, whose dogs have me wrapped around their little paws. I earned my Master's of Liberal Studies degree in Arts and Culture, with a concentration in Creative Writing, from University of Denver in 2013, and hold a Bachelor's of Art degree in German, with a minor in English, from Michigan State University. I love walking my dogs, running, gardening, reading, and writing.
It all started on a walk with my dogs. Which shouldn’t be that surprising, as every day starts with a walk with my dogs. We eat breakfast, leash up, and head out. Every day begins with a dog walk–and so do many of my essays, poems, blog posts, and book chapters. One of my essays, about to appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from the Dog (in bookstores April 9), was not only inspired while I was walking my dogs, but is also about walking my dogs. It tells the short tale of how letting Jack take the reins (or should I say, “leash?”) and determine our walking route one morning led me to a beautiful view–and taught me a valuable lesson: I don’t always have to be in charge.
The essay had humble beginnings. It started as a January 2015 diary entry, penned after returning home from our walk, and eventually morphed into a blog post on my now debunked, little-read personal blog, where it sat for several years, largely unnoticed. In 2018, while scrolling through a Freedom with Writing e-mail (if you’re a writer and you don’t subscribe already, you should), I learned that Chicken Soup for the Soul was accepting submissions for several upcoming books, one being Life Lessons from the Dogs.
I remembered my diary-entry-turned-blog-post, and, after a few revisions, submitted it. Almost a year later, I received one of the most exciting e-mails of my life to date. The essay I wrote, at the time called “Northern Neck Dog Walk,” had been shortlisted in the selection process for the upcoming Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from the Dog.
Trying in vain not to get too excited, I started a group text including my parents, three siblings, in-laws, and half a dozen friends, and texted out my happy news, complete with far too many exclamation points and smiley face emojis. I e-mailed all of them, too–to make sure they got the message. Though it was difficult, I did manage to resist the urge to post my good news to social media, in the event that, in the end, nothing came of it.
Then, I waited–telling myself it was a big success to have made it even this far.
A few weeks later, I received official word that my essay had made the cut, and would be featured in the book, a fact I quickly plastered all over my Facebook and Instagram accounts.
My complimentary copies of the books arrived last week, and I have been busy setting up fundraisers for Richmond Animal League, where my dogs inspired me to volunteer in their honor for roughly five years, and the Richmond SPCA, where Jack and I completed (and LOVED) several agility classes.
During a recent visit to the Northern Neck, I found myself sitting across from my aunt at a Mexican restaurant where we had met for lunch, along with my uncle, my husband, and my parents. As we noshed on tortilla chips, waiting for our burritos and fajitas and taco salads to arrive, she observed, “So, Amanda, it seems to me your writing has really taken off since you’ve gotten involved in a few writing groups.” Her observation is completely accurate. (And, if I know her, she’ll probably take credit for inspiring this blog post–as she should.)
While writing itself often requires at least some solitude, “no man is an island.” Since I’ve gotten more involved with Virginia Outdoor Writers Association (VOWA) and James River Writers, my writing has taken off, and I am learning more than I ever knew there was to learn–about writing, publishing, networking, motivation, you name it.
One of the benefits of becoming involved in–or at least aware of–the various writing groups in your area is learning about opportunities to enter contests. The Poetry Society or Virginia (of which I am also now a member) holds a contest I learned about when I attended the James River Writers Annual Conference. I entered several poems, and one earned second-place sonnet in one category of the contest. Not only did this success bolster my self-esteem and increase my enthusiasm, but it also meant I got to attend an awards ceremony and luncheon at a nursery near the mountains, where I not only had the opportunity to read my poem to an audience of fellow poets, but where I also got to sit in a greenhouse on a hillside and listen to dozens and dozens of other poets read their winning poems. I left the awards ceremony inspired, awed, and filled with creative energy. (I also bought a dragon plant I’d been eyeing in the greenhouse throughout the readings. It’s my poetree, and since I brought it home and re-potted it last April, it has grown and thrived in tandem with my writing practice.)
In addition to the opportunity to enter and maybe win writing contests, becoming involved with writing groups gives you the inside scoop on classes, workshops, and conferences. I learned about the year-long novel-writing class I enrolled in at VisArts at
the James River Writers Annual Conference. Had I not joined that group and attended that conference, I never would’ve learned of or taken that class. Had I not taken that class, I can almost guarantee you I would not have finished my second manuscript, and if I had (which is unlikely), it would not be nearly as strong as it is (though it still needs some work).
Participating in the class at VisArts not only ensured I completed my manuscript, but also allowed me to meet several other really talented writers, people I learned a lot from and who are still helping me with my writing today. And if that isn’t enough, it was through taking this class that I was asked by a classmate to co-chair the 2019 Writing Show with her. (Shameless plug: The next one is this Wednesday! Topic: How to Write a Killer Synopsis.) This opportunity has been priceless, and we’ve only just begun. Already, I have met so many intelligent, literary people; learned a TON about the writing industry; and been inspired over and over again. My involvement in James River Writers paved the way for me to take the VisArts class, which in turn paved the way for me to become more deeply involved with James River Writers.
My involvement in VOWA may also soon support my role as co-chair of The Writing Show. Yesterday, I attended VOWA’s Annual Conference. One of the panel discussions centered on how to please an editor. It just so happens the May Writing Show topic centers on how to make freelance writing financially rewarding. My hope is to contact one of the editors I heard speak to VOWA yesterday about speaking at The Writing Show in May.
“So, Amanda, it seems to me your writing has really taken off since you’ve gotten involved in a few writing groups.”
Finally, I learned about Life in 10 Minutes at a James River Writers class a few years ago. Since learning of Life in 10, I have taken several of their workshops, attended a one-day event, and taken a class. These experiences have produced several pieces of writing, a few of which have gone on to appear in sweatpantsandcoffee.com, Nine Lives: A Life in 10 Minutes Anthology, and more. I even got to interview Valley Haggard for a blog post, which was later republished in WriteHackr Magazine. The same class where I learned about Life in 10 Minutes was also the reason I finished my first manuscript.
Joining writing groups and becoming involved makes writing, usually so solitary, a social activity, in the most productive of ways.
Joining writing groups and participating in their contests, classes, conferences, and workshops is not the only decision that has helped support my writing–my family, fellow writers, friends, and colleagues have also played a role–but joining writing groups and becoming involved makes writing, usually so solitary, a social activity, in the most productive of ways.
I began my teaching career in the fall of 2006, just weeks after graduating from college and returning home from a five-month semester abroad in Germany. Nearly thirteen years later, I still teach at the same high school in the same classroom I walked into as a fresh-faced, 22-year-old, first-year teacher, barely older than my students. Looking back at the past decade or so, I realize there are a few things any aspiring English teacher might want to know.
Your life will be a revolving door of essays and papers to grade.
1. You are always going to have more grading than anyone else in your building. Ever. Stacks of essays, research papers, journals, etc., and they will require a lot of attention and time and thought and feedback. As soon as you finish grading one pile of papers, the next paper is due. Your life is a revolving door of essays.
If you can deal with #1, go ahead and read #s 2-5. If you can’t handle #1, just stop reading right now and reconsider your career path.
You will have the joy of discovering and rediscovering literature for the duration of your career.
2. You are going to get to know your students very well because of the things they write. They will often write things they will not say–things that will surprise, sadden, and delight you.
3. You are going to have the joy of discovering and rediscovering literature for the rest of your career. You are going to become an expert on the books you teach, and yet see something new in them–Every. Single. Time.
Writing college recommendation letters is a lot of work–but it’s also one way you will directly, positively impact your students’ futures.
4. Lots of students are going to ask you to write lots of college recommendation letters and scholarship letters because, well, presumably you can write. For the same reason, lots of students are going to ask you to look over their college admissions essays (as if you didn’t already have stacks of papers to read!). It’s a lot of work–but it’s also one way you directly, positively impact your students’ futures.
5. You will have opportunities to be active “in the field”–to judge, run, and enter writing contests, and to attend writing workshops, classes, and conferences. Of course, this is what you make it and you get what you put in. I try to take full advantage of this perk of the job. I believe participating in and facilitating contests, attending workshops, and completing classes all enrich me both personally and professionally. I also feel like the fact that I blog, publish articles and essays, and continue honing my craft and content knowledge earns me some credibility with my students When they notice the byline on the framed articles around my classroom boasts my name, they are often surprised and in awe. When they see the awards for articles and poems on the windowsill, they often want to know about what I wrote. I could be wrong, but I feel like knowing I actually WRITE helps them feel like I am more capable of teaching THEM how to write. I am not just a talking head, parroting back the rules of writing; I am also a writer. I love that my job lets me directly engage with activities I would be doing anyway: writing and reading. And, often, my career as an English teacher directly SUPPORTS my writing endeavors outside the classroom, as well. Many times, I have earned professional development points for my teaching license. My school even supplemented the cost of my graduate degree in creative writing.
There are many reasons not to become an English teacher: endless stacks of papers and essays, trying desperately to help students understand Bryant’s “Thanatopsis,” standardized tests, the persistent struggle to find effective ways to teach proper grammar.
But, for me at least, the reasons to become an English teacher are even more numerous: watching students notice their own improved writing, taking advantage of professional development opportunities that also nurture your personal literary interests, diving deeply into beloved books, helping students learn to read between the lines. I could go on.
If you can stomach the less enjoyable aspects of the job (and, remember, every job involves these), the rewards–at least at my school–far outnumber the inconveniences and struggles.
In case you’re expecting some deep meditation on the practice and value of going for a walk, or an extended metaphor about life as a walk–or anything like that, let me warn you: This isn’t that kind of poem. This is just a rambling, silly little rhyme I composed in my head yesterday afternoon while I was, well, walking my dogs.
I hadn’t run the first mile of this morning’s run when my mistake occurred to me, striding into my consciousness as clearly as the morning sun shone through the frigid air. I stopped mid-stride and unlocked my cell phone, accessing my e-mail.
“My pre-morning run mind must’ve been misfiring,” I typed as fast my thumbs could dance across the screen, in an attempt to explain the initial, embarrassingly erroneous e-mail I had sent not 20 minutes before setting out for this run. My mind, unaware of its own cloudiness before my run, had suddenly cleared as I ran. As my body warmed up to the run, my thoughts, too, became more awake and fluid and ran through my mind freely, unencumbered by any morning fog.
We all know people who live by the mantra: “But first, coffee.” I feel a similar sentiment, but my coffee is a morning walk with my dogs or a morning run (or, on a particularly good day, both).
I don’t do anything important before my morning dog walk (I mean, besides breakfast–the most important meal of the day). I don’t have the mind for it yet. I need the time to move around outside in the fresh air and quiet, to gather my thoughts from wherever they roosted for the night and sort through them. My day–at least, the productive part of it–cannot start without this ritual: breathing the morning air, communing with nature, watching the morning roll in as my morning mind-fog rolls out. My body burns the calories and my mind burns off its fog.
I find the act of walking or hiking or running outside integral not only to my preparation for the day, but also to my writing. My personal essay “The Reward,” which will appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from the Dog, to be released April 9, was
Several years ago, I read a profile of a poet in Poets & Writers Magazine. I wish I could remember his name and the exact quote, but what I do remember is this: He loved to go for walks. He explained that he would begin a walk, his mind full of worries and stress over his own and the world’s problems. By the time he finished his walk, the
problems were still there, but the worry and stress were gone. A walk’s ability to peel the worry way from problems allows us to think about them more clearly. This holds true not only for problems in our lives, but also for obstacles in our writing. I don’t typically begin a run or walk or hike with the intention of unraveling the knots in my tangled plot or finding a word to rhyme with “marathon” or “silver,” but often, the solutions and ideas simply present themselves as I move, as if the unrestrained movement of my body also releases my thoughts to wander my mind without hindrance or boundary.
This past summer, a neighbor let me borrow her copy of Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Now, several months later, one aspect of the book I remember most vividly is Murakami’s conviction that he runs so he can keep writing. And indeed, there are many parallels between running a long race and writing a long work.
“Don’t talk to me; I haven’t had my coffee yet” has never held true for me (which is good, because I don’t drink coffee, so I would be decidedly anti-social if it were true), but the same concept does hold true if I haven’t been outside for a walk yet.
I love the idea of New Year’s resolutions. Sometimes I set them; sometimes I don’t–but the idea of a fresh, new start and setting goals for the new year appeals to me. Despite my love of a good goal, this January, I didn’t begin the year with any specific goals in mind, other than to revise my manuscript and hopefully send it off to an agent by April. Now that we are coming to the end of the first month of the year, I have taken a little time to reflect on what I have achieved, even without a particular list of goals in mind.
Around January 15, I learned my short personal essay “The Reward” had made it to the final selection round of pieces to be included in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from the Dog.About a week later, I got unofficial word it will be included, and I can expect my official notification sometime next week. This particular achievement is actually the indirect result of a resolution I made in 2017 to submit pieces to publications on a (somewhat) regular basis.
5. I also took time this month to read my manuscript through as a one whole piece for the first time, addressing issues as I found them (I am sure there are more to find, and another–probably multiple other–read-throughs are in my future). In addition, last week I submitted a short story to a literary magazine, and am in the process of reading through a writer friend’s middle grade novel manuscript.
All in all, I’d say it’s been a strong start. Now: to keep the momentum going. Maybe I should set some goals…
Finish revising my manuscript
Write a query and synopsis for my manuscript (I am sure writing the manuscript itself will prove a less arduous endeavor!)
Send my manuscript to an agent, preferably before the end of April
Continue to co-chair the 2019 Writing Show
Continue writing for The Village News
Take at least one writing class or workshop in 2019
“We were going to send you a Christmas card, but just look for our ‘Merry Christmas’ mass text message instead.” That flippant statement blared over my car’s radio speakers as I drove to work listening to Christmas music earlier this week. It’s true–I myself will send out a few “Merry Christmas” texts of my own come Christmas day, but not in the form of a mass text to the majority of my contact list. I will send them to a few intimate friends and family members as a small reminder that I am thinking of them, that I love them, that I truly wish them a happy holiday. And these texts will not be in the stead of my annual, page-long Christmas letter, sent in a signed holiday card, in some cases with a personal message and wallet-sized family portrait.
Technology has seemingly diminished our need for the annual holiday update, decreasing the value of a year summarized in an annual Christmas letter. After all, we can post anything to social media for all to see with the swipe of a finger across a screen. And just like that–POOF!–the need to sit down and spend time writing a Christmas letter, signing a card, and addressing an envelope have vanished.
When I was a kid, my parents always sent out a Christmas letter detailing our family’s year in the trips we had taken, the family and friends we had visited or hosted, our most recent move, the achievements we had experienced, etc. Many of my parents’ friends and family members did the same. I loved reading everyone’s annual update, typically folded neatly into a festive card, which my parents would tape to the garage door until it was completely covered in Christmas cards. I always loved that colorful door, decorated with season’s greetings from people we loved.
When I was a kid, I loved reading everyone’s annual update, typically folded neatly into a festive card, which my parents would tape to the garage door until it was completely covered in Christmas cards.
Now that I am an adult, in many respects living in a world very different from the one I inhabited as a child, technology has seemingly diminished our need for the annual holiday update, decreasing the value of a year summarized in an annual Christmas letter. After all, we can post any major milestones, achievements, sorrows, job changes, moves, new arrivals, and adventures to social media for all to see with the swipe of a finger across a screen. And just like that–POOF!–the need to sit down and spend time writing a Christmas letter, signing a card, and addressing an envelope have vanished. If anyone wants to know what we’ve been up to, they can check our Facebook page or our Instagram account or our Twitter feed.
The need to let someone know you’re thinking of them goes beyond a “like” on Facebook or Instagram. Why not put in a little more effort (it’s just once a year!), and take the time to sign a card? Even better–write a quick personalized message. You know–in your handwriting. With a pen.
But these posts, while informative and fun and entertaining, are impersonal announcements. They do not say to any one friend or family member or neighbor, “Hey–I wanted you to know about this. You are special to me. I am making an extra special effort to stay in touch with you, because you matter to me.” Similarly, while studies have shown we all get a little kick out of “likes” and comments on our social media posts, as well as a thrill out of the sound of the text message alert on our phones, the need to let someone know you’re thinking of them goes beyond a “like” on Facebook or Instagram. If you truly care about someone, why not put in a little more effort (it’s just once a year!), and take the time to sign a card? Even better–write a quick, personalized message. You know–in your handwriting. With a pen.
Composing a Christmas letter provides an excellent opportunity for you to reflect on the year. It gives you space to sit down and look back on the growth you and your loved ones have experienced in the past 12 months, allows you to go back and savor the year before a new one begins, and might even help provide some clarification regarding what your priorities for the new year might be.
Along with saying to loved ones, “Hey, look! You’re so special to me, you made my Christmas card list!”, composing a Christmas letter provides an excellent opportunity for you to reflect on the year. The things you remember from the year and the things you want to include in your letter are likely the things that were most important to you, or that made the most impact on you. It gives you space to sit down and look back on the growth you and your loved ones have experienced in the past 12 months. The changes you have made. The goals you have achieved. The trips you have taken. All the things we quickly post to social media, and then likely forget about until they show up on TimeHop or in our Memories on Facebook. Writing a Christmas letter allows you to go back and savor the year before a new one begins, and might even help provide some clarification regarding what your priorities for the new year might be.
Writing my Christmas letter and signing my cards doesn’t feel like a chore; it feels like a beloved holiday tradition.
A few days ago, I was talking to my sister about Christmas cards and letters. We both agreed that sitting down to address envelopes for our annual holiday mailings was therapeutic. We watch a favorite TV show or listen to Christmas music and just leisurely write out our cards. It gives us reason for pause, a break from the go-go-go. For those moments while I am writing my letter, signing my cards, and addressing my envelopes, nothing else is on my mind. All the thoughts running through my head involve the highlights of my year, or the loved ones whose names and addresses I’m handwriting on the page. It doesn’t feel like a chore; it feels like a beloved holiday tradition.
I should say that even as I bemoan the lost art of writing Christmas letters and signing Christmas cards, many people do still send them–and I eagerly check my mailbox every day from Black Friday to New Year’s Eve in anticipation of receiving them. I don’t adhere them to my door like my parents did when I was growing up, but I do display them–in a kind of Christmas card garland. The cards and letters and family photos cling festively to a strand of Christmas lights adorning my back entryway, where I walk under them every time I leave home, and every time I come back in. These greeting cards bring me joy when I find them in my mailbox, when I walk under them to leave home, and when I walk under them to return. They fill my heart with Christmas cheer. I dare a mass text message to do that.
In January of this year, I began participating in a 10-month novel-writing class at the Visual Arts Center of Richmond. Our last class meeting took place last Wednesday. Today, not going to class will feel a little strange. It’s weird–to not go somewhere you’ve been going once a week–every week–for almost a year. The commute to class, the class itself, the commute home–all became a sort of ritual, a routine. More than that, it was how I knew it was Wednesday.
Last week, both my husband and my mom asked me how I felt about the impending end of my writing class. A little sad, really–but also ready. The experience more than served its purpose. I wrote the rough draft of a manuscript of which I wouldn’t have written even three chapters without the class, which provided me with the space, structure, discipline, tools, support, and motivation to do what I needed to do: Write.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You are the reason I can say I have completed the rough drafts of not one, but two, manuscripts. You are the reason I can say I found the discipline and motivation to sit down and write. You believed in me, so I believed in myself.
In November 2016, inspired by NaNoWriMo, I wrote less than 1000 words before other priorities took precedence and my motivation to finish fizzled. The passage I share here was all I had completed of the manuscript until I started the novel-writing class in January 2018. Now, two years later, that passage has been butchered, redistributed, and repurposed in various ways, in what has matured into a 70,000-word manuscript for a novel–one that never would have been written had it not been for my instructor and classmates at VisArts. And so, then, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I have to say: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You are the reason I can say I have completed the rough drafts of not one, but two, manuscripts. You are the reason I can say I found the discipline and motivation to sit down and write. You believed in me, so I believed in myself.
But I didn’t just finish my manuscript (as if that weren’t enough!). I also met some really talented, supportive writers, one of whom invited me to work with her as co-chair for the James River Writers 2019 Writing Show, an opportunity that means soon, I am going to meet even more exceptional writers. And editors. And agents. And publishers. And and and. I also learned all kinds of valuable information and tools, ranging from obligatory scenes (So helpful! Our instructor is a genius.) to best bad choices. I also got to eat some delectable homemade cake baked by our instructor’s wife, and read a book I never would’ve: Salt to the Sea, by Rupta Septey. Basically, I got more out of this class than I ever imagined I would, from a finished rough draft, to improved writing skills, to deeper insights on writing and reading–and then some cake.
Though the end of our class was bittersweet (sweet because, you know–cake), I certainly have no regrets. I completed a manuscript (albeit rough). I met inspiring, creative people. I learned a ton. I get to continue working with one of my fellow writers going forward into the new year. I read a book. I ate cake. And now I’ll take a step back from the piece I just (pseudo) finished (piece being of writing, not of cake; I finished my entire piece of cake…), and start trying to revise (again) my first manuscript, which needs some serious TLC after being neglected during the writing of the one I just finished.
Writing a novel isn’t a piece of cake, but eating a piece of cake with classmates in celebration of having written one–that’s pretty sweet.
Thanksgiving is just around the corner, but in my neck of the woods, some houses are already donning festive Christmas lights, and I’ve seen at least one fully decorated Christmas tree in a picture window, lit from trunk to tip. As Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday sail in on the heels of a Thanksgiving not yet arrived, our thoughts begin (already!) to turn to holiday shopping. What to get for that avid reader or writer on your list? What to get for that dog mom or dog dad who already has it all? Well, you’ve come to the right place, because I have an idea for both of them, and both ideas support small business, retreat from consumerism, and feature handcrafted goods.
The Literature Lover
My first idea involves helping you enjoy 20% off your purchase at Literary Book Gifts. All you have to do is use the promo code MindtheDogWritingBlog20 and you’ll get 20% off your purchase. There’s no minimum purchase, and it doesn’t expire! At Literary Book Gifts, you can find men’s and women’s T-shirts and tote bags featuring designs inspired by great works of literature.
Literary Book Gifts is a small business with a big mission: Sparking a love for literature.
Literary Book Gifts is run by Melissa Chan, the company’s owner and sole employee. Her background is in graphic design, but in an informal interview, she told me she loves “literature because it is always there for you, through good times and bad. The stories in the books are the biggest inspiration for the company. The designs are meant to act as a foundation for positive discussion about the books, ideas, and authors who wrote them. I hope that they will spur others to head over to the library and do some reading.”
Melissa Chan, owner of Literary Book Gifts, says, “Books are the biggest inspiration for the company. The designs are meant to act as a foundation for positive discussion about the books, ideas, and authors who wrote them. I hope that they will spur others to head over to the library and do some reading.”
Her company is based in Toronto, but her items ship from printers here in the US. All the shirts and tote bags are professionally printed, and, according to Chan, the shirts are made of “high-quality 100% cotton with some of the heathered colors having some polyester content.”
If you’d like to support a small business with a big mission, as well as give a one-of-a-kind, practical, and personal gift to the writers or bibliophiles in your life, head over to Literary Book Gifts and use promo code MindtheDogWritingBlog20.
The Pet Parent
Please excuse the shameless promotion of my awesome husband for the remainder of this post, but he is pretty talented (and a really dedicated dog dad), and he creates really beautiful stained glass artwork in a workshop in our backyard.
His most recent creation is a hand-drawn and custom-made (by him!), hand-lettered (by me!) dog paw stained glass piece. You can order these in any color, and we can paint any dog name on the bone for you. The dog mom or dog dad in your life is sure to love this thoughtful, personalized, handmade gift. To order one (or several!), find us on Instagram: @creaseyscreationsva, or simply leave a comment on this post and I’ll be in touch!
I should’ve known everything was going to fall into place when, Friday morning, my dryer finished drying my clothes at the same instant I unlocked my back door to leave for the Master Classes I’d registered for as part of this year’s James River Writers Annual Conference. (I don’t like the washer or dryer running when I’m not home.)
The James River, viewed here from Floodwall Park, is still high from the rain produced by Tropical Storm Matthew.
The James River, which gives the James River Writers its name, is still swollen today from Tropical Storm Matthew.
Actually, my first sign that the universe is in harmony came about a week earlier. When I registered for the conference back in September, one of the two Master Classes I wanted to attend (like, really, really wanted to attend) was full. Just a few days before the conference, though, I got an e-mail informing me a space had opened up, my refund hadn’t yet been processed, and I could attend the class after all. It was perfectly serendipitous.
I attended both of the Master Classes I had hoped to attend on Friday, and went home, thinking no more about it.
As with the Friday Master Class I had wanted to attend, every single literary agent with whom I had hoped to meet had been completely booked. My first stop upon arriving at the conference Saturday morning was the pitch table, where I wanted to add my name to a waiting list to pitch to an agent at some point during the weekend. I was hoping for a particular agent, but I was willing to meet with any agent who might have an opening, so long as I got to meet an agent and practice my pitch.
“Which agent’s waiting list do you want to be on?” the man behind the table asked me.
I hadn’t even finished saying her name before the woman behind me jumped to my side.
“Well this might help you out,” she said, and then turned to the man. “I’m actually here to cancel my 2:10 appointment with that same agent.”
And voila! Just like that, I had my spot.
“Get over the idea that other writers are your competition. All writers are your tribe.” —Laurie Gwen Shapiro
I should probably also mention that this particular agent was the same agent presenting at the Master Class that had originally been full, but in which a slot had seemingly magically opened up for me at the last minute. That was the same class during which I sat beside a man who happened to have the 2:00 appointment with the same agent with whom I had a 2:10 appointment the following day. When I sat down in the seat he had just vacated, I noticed he’d dropped something important. I picked it up, and what are the chances I would run into him in his car in the parking garage, pulling out of his spot at the exact instant I pulled past? I was able to get his attention and return his lost belonging.
To top it all off, driving home, I hit all but the last two lights on Broad Street, green. That. Never. Happens. In fact, it was the green-light experience on Broad Street that got me reflecting on all the other pleasant coincidences I’d experienced since the conference’s beginning the day before.
That night, I experienced another coincidence, though this one belonged to someone else. My husband and I attended a good friend’s (also a writer) wedding, where we met the best man, whose name was Ryan. His girlfriend’s name? Also Ryan. What are the chances of that?
And that brings us to today.
Just as the dryer had finished its cycle right before I left for the day Friday, the eggs I was boiling on the stove top for my dogs (their staple treat isn’t Milkbones, but chunked up hardboiled eggs we call “egg bites”) this morning finished boiling at the exact instant that
I was pulling their leashes from the laundry room so we could take our morning walk. By now, of course, I was used to the universe playing directly into my plans, so I smiled to myself and carried on with my morning.
A few hours later, I found myself back at the conference, with hundreds of other writers. Now, what is the likelihood (and don’t actually tell me, because the math would ruin the magic) that, in a popular plenary session, I would sit down and look up to see that three seats away from me sat a former student of mine? Or that the only other woman who got lost trying to find the restroom in an empty hallway of the Greater Richmond Convention Center would be the wife of a woodworker my husband is dying to take a workshop with, who we’d met at Makers Fest last weekend? Small world, huh?
To top it all off, on my way home from the conference today, I turned on NPR. The Hidden Brain episode I heard promoted a few days ago, made a mental note to listen to, and then forgot the mental note, was airing. The topic? Coincidences.
(Don’t read too much into it.)
All that said, here are some pearls of wisdom from one of my favorite panels, Replenishing Your Creativity Toolkit.
“If it [writing] was easy, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it good.” —Moe Ferrara
“You don’t get inspiration, really. Your inspiration comes from your dedication. If there is a muse, it’s you.” —Pavana Reddy
“You write. You read. You let others read what you write. That’s what you can control. Keep swinging the bat. You have control over how many times you swing. Even if your batting average is low, if you keep swinging, you’re gonna hit something.” –Lina Maria Ferreira Cabeza-Vanegas
On Creative Space and Process
“You have to be nice to yourself because no one else is going to be. You can’t sit down and tell your brain, ‘Write now or else!'” –Lina Maria Ferreira Cabeza-Vanegas
“If you’re really excited about your ending, write it. It’s probably your beginning.” –Lina Maria Ferreira Cabeza-Vanegas
“Write every day. There is no inspiration. You are the muse.” –Pavana Reddy
And one more pearl of wisdom from another favorite panel, Think Like a Word Entrepreneur:
On Writing Community
“Get over the idea that other writers are your competition. All writers are your tribe.”—Laurie Gwen Shapiro