Feeling Silenced

Leave a comment

Every writer, at one point or another, feels silenced. The classroom should be a safe place that promotes the growth of creativity, not work against it.

There have been times when I’ve felt “silenced.” I took one class, for example, where some of the other students were (or seemed to think they were) too advanced for the class. I felt intimidated and mocked by their comments and while this pushed me to toughen up and expand my knowledge, I struggled and even felt afraid to share my “lesser quality” work. In this particular case, the teacher added to the problem by constantly putting those students on pedestals and ignoring others.

In chapter four of “What Our Speech Disrupts,” Haake tells the story of a time when she was silenced by her own insecurities. She says, “Now, under the spell of Melville’s prose and genius, my future, stark as destiny, seemed clear to me. I was neither smart nor talented enough to be, as I had dreamed, a writer.” She gave up writing for four years. Looking at this in a classroom setting, a student could easily feel inferior to other students, the teacher and even famous writers and their works (like Moby Dick in Haake’s case). The feeling of inferiority can silence a student and even halt creativity. Later Haake goes on to say, “For most of us, by the time we lapse into silence, we are past the point of caring.” No matter the size of the dream or aspiration, just as we can be held back by physical issues and threats we, too, can be held back by mental and emotional ones. Creativity is both powerful and delicate in that in can move mountains but something as light as a feather can disrupt or destroy it.

An open, nurturing, non-competitive environment is necessary in preventing this. Much like a mother loves all of her children unconditionally, with all their unique qualities, a teacher must create a similarly supportive, safe environment, where students aren’t afraid to share their deepest thoughts, fears and dreams. Additionally, it’s important to make sure students know there are no “stupid” questions or “bad” writing and that everything they say or share is valuable, valid and good. Validation and grading are, of course, necessary but should be done in an honest, constructive and positive way. No student should be put above or below another student. The class should feel like a team with everyone working toward the same goal.

Since creativity is subjective, who is to say what work is “better” or “worse” than others? For this reason, students should be primarily graded by their own growth and how they express their point of view. A good argument, especially one creatively expressed, is worth more than perfectly regurgitated information. Much like it’s futile to compare apples to oranges it’s also futile to compare creative writing students to each other.

Creativity needs room to grow. It also requires time and inspiration. By providing a time and place where students feel safe, they can be free to be inspired.

I believe failure often lies in generalization. It seems to me that different approaches work for different people, so why not create a model that does, too? Much in the way kitchen cabinets can be “custom” built to meet individual needs, why couldn’t a workshop? I’d propose different classes to target specific qualities, rather than a broad range of “everyone.” Unique class descriptions, for example “workshop for beginner romance novelists” or “workshop for advanced comedic storytellers” or even something as simple as “critical creative boot camp” or “friendly feedback for all” might help people choose where they believe they’d fit, feel most empowered to participate and safest to share.

In chapter nine of “Colors of a Different Horse,” Sarbo and Moxley say, “Our current understanding of creativity shapes and limits the ways in which we can effectively intervene in our students’ creative process and leads inevitably to a clarification of our role as teachers. Familiarity with creative research increases our sensitivity to the negative effects of external evaluation; fortifies our tolerance for each student’s unique personality style, work habits, and writing process; and prepares us to supplement these preferences appropriately.”

If each student is indeed unique, then the fruit is found in unique approaches which would allow students to feel safe and really dive deep into their creativity without concern of being unfairly compared to other writers, by others or by themselves, like apples are to oranges.

Works Cited

Bishop, Wendy and Ostrom, Hans. Colors of a Different Horse. Chapter 9.

Haake, Katherine. What Our Speech Disrupts. National University. Chapters 4 and 6.

To the girl at the supermarket

Leave a comment

I said hello and smiled through you

And you eagerly smiled back before

Mine melted away

Into your molten scarred unrecognizable face

An innocent smile instantly replaced with sadness since

I could not hide my horror, then my shame

I peered up and down aisle after aisle

Slowly filling my cart while searching and

Wondering—how could I?

And if and how could I correct my transgression?

Should I apologize or simply start over and try again?

Offer up a joke or a note about the weather?

I wanted…

I needed another chance to prove I’m not that person

To you

To me

To the guy cleaning up in aisle three

But neither of us knows me evidently

Or even well enough to know I’d react that way

Or that I’d care this much about a complete stranger

Or that I’d obsess over you and then somehow forget you

Before suddenly spotting you again

In the last aisle

My last chance

But face to face I froze again before making amends

I was immersed in fear again

I smiled that same stupid smile again

This time sincerely hoping it might hide

My insincerity, my regret and my fear

But it didn’t.

I wanted to tell you I didn’t mean to hurt you

But my pathetic face failed us both

And you let me know I missed my chance to make it up

To you—oh who am I kidding?

To me!

This time, you didn’t smile back

This time, you looked through me

And I deserved it

I had my chance to be a better me

And I blew it

I’m so sorry.

Boom Boom Boom

Leave a comment

My mom says I’ve never been the type to let grass grow under my feet, meaning when I get an idea in my head I go for it.

That made me laugh considering how much planting and gardening my husband and I have been doing this week. And, of course, then I applied for graduate school the other day and later that same night I was accepted. Since then, I’ve already scheduled my courses, handled financial aid and bought books. For something I’ve put off for so long, it’s all happening so fast.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

With no time to catch my breath or change my mind (not that I would), I’m holding on tight and embracing the process.

My first class is early next month. I’m anxious and excited and nervous… like a school girl (sorry, couldn’t resist it). I don’t know what to expect really, but I am sincerely looking forward to the whole experience and whatever the future holds. I have a good feeling and that’s good enough for me… for now.

By this time next year, I’ll be well on my way to my MFA in Creative Writing, something that’s been on my 30s Bucket List for a while now. (If you’re good) maybe I’ll share that list with you at some point and you can help me keep track of all the crazy things I continuously add to it.

We’ll see…

In the meantime, I hope you’re enjoying this lovely spring weather, finding time to recover from the darker days of winter, relaxing a little and planting some seeds of your own. It’ll be summer before we know it!

xo

Planting Trees…

2 Comments

In addition to the real trees I’ve been planting with my husband in our yard, I’ve also been planting some metaphorical trees of my own.

I’ve officially applied to graduate school and if all goes as planned, next month I’ll be on my way to earning my MFA in Creative Writing.

This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while but all the moving around we’ve been doing has made getting started a bit challenging.

Well, I’ve found an online program that sounds absolutely perfect for me. It will give me the opportunity to expand my knowledge and skill set while taking my writing to the next level. I will continue focusing on my novels and I might even add a screenplay or two to the mix. Oh and my husband promised to call me “master” when I graduate. That’s a kinky incentive if I ever needed one!

This is simply another seed I’m planting in my garden. But this is one that I can take with me wherever I go. It’s time to grow. And the sky’s the limit!

I am SO excited to take this next step toward reaching my dreams.

Wish me luck!

Monty

Leave a comment

My husband and I planted our first tree today in our backyard.

In fairness, my husband did most of (read: all) the hard work of lugging and digging and scooping and planting while I played with our daughter and took pictures.

What a wonderful feeling to have planted our own tree. Another first for us. And certainly a first for me. Growing up in the city, I never had the pleasure of doing something so naturistic (is that a word?) until now.

I feel so lucky to have such a wonderful husband and child. We love each other so much and that love grows stronger each day. Isn’t that what life is all about? We are building such a beautiful life here together in Iowa in our new home. Everyday life has its ups and downs and we do our best to savor the highs while working together to get through the lows. Things aren’t always easy and breezy and, like you, we have our challenges. Some days are harder than others but having each other makes it all worthwhile.

Today is a good day.

We planted a tree.

He’s a Montmorency Cherry tree but since that’s a mouthful, we’ve decided to name him Monty. I’m looking forward to watching him grow and perhaps planting more. He will make a nice addition to our family and our home.

Mommy, kiss it!

1 Comment

My 2-yr-old daughter, Lyla, recently discovered the healing powers of mommy kisses. And, as a mommy, I recently discovered that it is AWESOME to be able to so quickly and easily kiss away my daughter’s tears.

It’s true. A mother’s kisses are nothing less than mystical and magical, kind of like unicorns. I’ve actually known this since way back when I was Lyla’s age since my mom also has magical kisses. My mom’s kisses had the exact same effect… and sometimes they still do. Now that I think about it, maybe it’s hereditary? Nah, I’m pretty sure it simply comes with the job description.

But isn’t it amazing how something as simple as a kiss can make the hurt instantly go away? When Lyla bumps, falls, bruises or scrapes, a kiss from me is enough to stop the tears. It’s kind of wonderful actually.

So at my daughter’s request, I’ve kissed everything… well, almost everything. I’ll get to that in a moment.

Without hesitation, I’ve kissed her forehead dozens of times. I’ve kissed elbows and knees, arms, legs, feet, hands, fingers and even toes. I’ve kissed the top of her head and her tummy.

I even fell for it the day Lyla said, “Mommy, kiss it” and then puckered her lips. With no questions asked, I puckered up too but as I leaned in for what I’d assumed would be an innocent peck on the mouth, at the last second the little turd stuck out her tongue. I realized too late that she must have bitten it and thought a kiss from me would heal it. I’m not sure if it helped but I now have my guard up for next time she tries to trick me and lick my face. Yuck! But I can’t blame her for trying since biting your tongue sucks and, to her, nothing quite compares to mommy kisses.

“Mommy, kiss it,” she says after each and every ouchy. Bump her head or stub a toe? Better find mommy! It doesn’t always involve a boo-booed body part either. There are times when she asks me to kiss something that wasn’t even an ouchy at all.

On special request, I’ve kissed her best friend, Tags the Tag Ball (it’s sort of like a security blanket-ish item but it’s a ball with tags whose name, for obvious reasons, is Tags). I’ve also kissed a bear or two, a dolly and even a Dora and a Wubbzy.

I know my husband’s jealous too. He’d never admit it, but I’m 100% sure that he wishes his kisses were as magical and mystical as mine. I mean, while he’s no unicorn, kisses from Daddy are obviously good too and they will certainly work in a pinch… I guess. But, in our house, nothing compares to Mommy’s kisses.

If only this could last forever! But I know she’ll someday have a hurt that can’t so easily be kissed away. And, perhaps before then, she’ll probably outgrow asking for kisses altogether. So I’m cherishing this time while it lasts and, at her request, I will happily kiss it–whatever it is–no questions asked.

Well, like I said earlier, almost anything.

I admit there was one time when I turned her down…

Recently, after a rather rough bout of stomach flu and a weeklong case of the runs, Lyla’s tummy was finally feeling better but my poor little angel had a very sore tushy. And I guess baby powder was no longer doing the trick.

So far, that was the only time I’ve drawn the line when she innocently looked up at me and said, “Mommy, kiss it!”

Social Brainstorming

1 Comment

Writing is typically a very solitary activity. In general, creative types can tend at times to be almost hermit-like especially during our most creative journeys of self-discovery and expression.

Nobody comes to mind, other than maybe the Dalai Lama in all his meditative glory, who can get further inside his or her own head and stay there longer than a writer.

I am guilty of this.

I seek out solitude to write. I need my own space, time, peace. That used to be easy. But these days, being a mom and wife, my time is filled with all sorts of activity and distractions. And achieving solitude is no longer a simple task. I’ve considered taking desperate measures such as locking myself in a closet to find a minute to write. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of but I’ve been known to mentally leave the room mid-conversation or physically go off and hide in the bathroom to quickly jot down notes in moments when inspiration strikes.

Of course I love spending time with my family and friends but, still, I try to make or find the time and peace and quiet to write whenever and however I can. It’s important to me since I need it to achieve my dreams.

But as creative as I can be when I’m alone and as tempting as it might be to stay hidden away in that quiet, creative place, I know that I can’t stay there forever. It’s obviously not healthy to be alone all the time or even most of the time. While we all need some semblance of peace and quiet to catch our breath, we also need direct (and indirect) contact with other people. Finding a healthy, happy balance can be a struggle for some of us.

It is for me.

While I love making new friends and being around people, I also long to be alone so that I can think and create and write. Until the words flow from my brain and onto the page, it can often feel like I am at war with myself. I need to crawl deep down into an almost meditative state to accomplish my goals, but I also need to stay healthy and that requires a level of human contact.

I hate to admit it but sometimes I have to force myself out of my head and out of my house in order to be physically around other people. In addition, I urge myself to occasionally pick up the phone and have real time conversations.

But when all else fails, I turn to my social network of choice: Facebook.

And, in addition to its obvious “social” benefits, I’ve discovered a whole new reason to love Facebook. When I’m stuck on an element of creativity or when my mind has come to a fork in the road or even a dead end, I can simply update my status to ask for help. Until recently, I had no idea it could be such an amazing brainstorming tool!

Earlier this year, I was struggling naming a new character so I posted a description. Within minutes, my Facebook friends were in a frenzy bouncing names back and forth. Some took it seriously while others were more playful, but all were helpful and inspiring in their own ways. Later, I posted that I needed a name for a fictional company. I got great responses for that, too.

When I worked in corporate events, I loved (most) meetings and, more specifically, brainstorming sessions. For one, they helped break up the day. But more importantly, I found that the act of getting people together around a great big table in a conference room was the best way to get and then expand upon some really awesome ideas. Sure, we’d all sometimes bitch and moan about being too busy for yet another meeting but those meetings were productive from a creative point of view. Even the conference calls had their high points, although those were much more challenging for me to pay attention.

These days, conference rooms and boardroom tables are practically obsolete. At least they are in my life. I’m sure companies still use them, but now social networking sites allow us the freedom to brainstorm with our friends, family and even folks we don’t know. It’s an easy, far more efficient and convenient way to get opinions and answers from a multitude of people, near and far, and way more than could possibly fit in an actual conference room or, for that matter, in my living room. Facebook makes it easy to gather my family, friends, acquaintances, work contacts, associates, former classmates and even my dentist all in the same “room” to simultaneously ask a question.

I like that.

And, with no boss looking over my shoulder, I can post any topic or question that strikes my fancy (and I can be pretty darn fancy), then go off and spend time with my daughter, take a walk, make a phone call, workout, bake, go shopping, have lunch or even take a nap while I wait for feedback. And it’s all-but guaranteed to eventually come. Even if half of my Facebook friends are busy elsewhere, there’s a good chance that the other half is itching to be involved. So now instead of getting reprimanded or risk being fired, the answers are simply waiting for me when I return. It’s brilliant!

I also like that I can sit in my PJs and call a meeting of the minds (as well as the wise asses) whenever I want. Morning, noon or even in the middle of the night, there are bound to be people ready and willing to join in and post their ideas or give me a swift kick in the tuchus with an inspirational quote or two when I need it most.

As the song goes, “That’s what (Facebook) friends are for!”

And, not to brag, but my Facebook friends are pretty amazing. Individually, they are some of the smartest, funniest, most creative, inspirational, talented, sincere, thoughtful, charismatic and just plain helpful people out there. Together, they are a brainstorming force to be reckoned with. And perhaps the coolest part is that they come from all aspects of my life: past and present.

Because of Facebook, I have received their combined assistance on many occasions. And for that, I am eternally grateful. In fact, I hope to someday include a special thank you message to all of my Facebook friends on a future acknowledgment page when I finally reach my goal and publish my first novel. Wouldn’t that be a great way to show them how much they’ve meant to me?

Of course, I’ll probably need more of their help to get there!

Mommy’s Law

2 Comments

We’ve all heard about Murphy’s Law. Well, here’s some Mommy’s Law:

  1. The later mommy goes to sleep, the earlier baby will wake up.
  2. Baby will always get a rash, bruise, scratch or some other sort of unexplainable injury the night before a pediatric checkup.
  3. Guinness World Record breaking growth spurts are more likely to occur the night before any occasion for which a formal outfit and shoes have been selected and purchased for baby than any other day of the year.
  4. If mommy should happen to win either a date with daddy or a girls’ night out, the baby’s energy the following day will be multiplied by the quantity of glasses of wine mommy consumed the night before.
  5. The moment the house is finally clean, baby’s diaper will explode.
  6. If mommy buys a new dress, baby will immediately vomit all over it. If said dress or alternate article of newly purchased clothing happens to be white, baby will be sure to have consumed a full tummy’s worth of something in the darkest, most disgusting shade imaginable (strained peas, anyone?).
  7. When mommy decides to bring the stroller along, baby will want to walk. But when no stroller is available and mommy’s hands are full, baby will demand to be carried.
  8. Baby will happily show off clear pronunciation of all her new words and numbers behind closed doors but will only speak baby talk when others are around. If “others” should happen to include mommy’s in-laws, baby will jump at the opportunity to showcase her mastery of the letter “F” and attempt to rhyme everything with the word duck.
  9. The moment mommy brags about anything, baby will enforce a strict no bragging penalty (i.e., “My baby loves to eat her veggies!” Penalty = Baby will never eat anything green ever again)
  10. Baby will be an angel throughout the supermarket, enticing mommy to shop till she drops. But the moment mommy pulls her overflowing cart into the checkout line, baby will turn into a demon. The longer the line, the more head spinning action will ensue.

Happy mommying!

Just Another Day in Iowa

7 Comments

The other day,  while on my way to meet up with my super-awesome sister-in-law, Randi, with plans to tag along with her and participate in my first ever cookie exchange, the strangest thing happened…

Well strange by my apparently somewhat sheltered city girl standards anyway.

I was alone in my car driving down (or would it have been up?) Highway 34 (just past 360th Street) toward Carson from Malvern when I saw something that seemed rather odd in the not-too-distant distance. While it didn’t appear to be a car or vehicle of any kind, I wasn’t quite sure at first what it was. But whatever it was, it was definitely in my lane and coming my way fast.

Thinking maybe it was just something or someone passing something or someone else, I looked to the left of it and in the other lane there was a caravan of vehicles all bunched up beside and behind it, moving slowly, sort of like a funeral procession. I was perplexed.

I glanced back and as it continued getting closer, I realized it was a horse.

A fucking horse!!

And (damn it) it was coming right at me! If having a horse galloping full-speed-ahead into the direction of my front bumper wasn’t bad enough already, no one was riding it. I didn’t know what to do. So I slowed down and eventually came to a complete stop right there in the middle of the road. Then I did what I think anyone in my position would have done: I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. And in the event that the horse had exceptional hearing or was taking subliminal requests, I whispered the words, “Please jump!”

When I opened my eyes, the horse was in the other lane passing me.

Feeling happy that it hadn’t actually attempted to jump over me, since in retrospect it may have miscalculated and crashed through my sunroof, I removed my foot from the brake and, with my heart still beating out of my chest, pressed gently on the gas pedal and speed dialed my husband.

He and I talked for a few minutes and I eventually calmed down as he casually said things like, “Welcome to Iowa.” After assuring him that I was indeed fine and so were the five dozen homemade baby cheesecakes I’d been transporting, I told him I loved him and hung up the phone.

But then, mere (not mare… get it?) minutes later, before I had the chance to fully relax, something else happened. I spotted deer (plural) darting across the road ahead of me.

I’m not going to lie. I was a bit startled by them at first, having heard horror stories about deer-in-headlights type accidents and having seen my fair share of Allstate Mayhem (I love that guy!) commercials. But still I felt confident that I could handle the situation. Shit, I’d just survived my first potential head on horse collision! Compared to that, this was just Bambi (or Bambis?).

Besides, I’d been warned about this. My husband and practically every other member of our family and close friends had been warning me since we moved here about the dangers of deer this time of year. And they taught (or at least told) me what to do if I happened to encounter one (or in this case, about eight or so).

No problem. I got this! After all, I’m an Iowan now. So I simply slowed down (again), put on my hazard lights this time, stayed as alert as possible and carefully watched back and forth from side to side for more deer. Easy-peasy.

It wasn’t scary. On the contrary, it was beautiful. What I got was the equivalent of a front row center seat as these delicate, majestic creatures jumped one by one clear across the road and darted off into a field. It was probably one of the coolest, most peaceful experiences I’ve ever had while driving.

Well… That was until I saw the white pickup truck coming from the opposite direction screech to an abrupt halt onto the side of the road. The truck had stopped so fast that I thought for a second that maybe it had hit one of the deer. Suddenly, I was concerned for the driver and any potential passengers, as well as the deer. But my concern quickly morphed into pure panic when two men in bright orange vests flung open the doors to the truck and jumped out wielding weapons. Before I could think or even blink, one of them ran into my lane, waved his gun in the air (like he just didn’t care) and immediately opened fire!

Are you effing kidding me, Iowa?

For the record, he missed. And for obvious reasons I’m totally relieved.

So we’re clear, I don’t stand on either side of the gun issue. Americans currently have the right to bear arms and, while I choose not to do so (and certainly not without the correct bra), I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s rights or strike up a debate. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no fan of violence and I adore cute furry things with faces just as much as the next gal, but I also occasionally like to eat them. Sorry. And, that said, I’m grateful to farmers and hunters and all other people who get their hands dirty so that I don’t have to.

But even though I have no personal, political or moral dilemma or issue with hunters or guns, I’d prefer not being shot by one. So if you enjoy hunting and/or if you’re planning to shoot a gun for any reason, please spare me the details and (for the love of God) aim that thing away from my face.

This was not my first time in the presence of an overly anxious, obviously desperate dude with a gun. I don’t mean to brag, but when I was 17-years-old, I got held up at gun point. That’s right, bitches. I apologize; I’m not sure what just came over me. That bitches comment just felt right in the moment. Anyhoo, I was a freshman in college at the time, working the register at a Wawa (if you’re unfamiliar, it’s kind of like a 7-11 only better) in Philadelphia.

It was right smack in the middle of the day, during the dinner rush when a man pointed a gun at me and told me that if I gave him all the money in my drawer, then he wouldn’t shoot me in the face. Once I pushed past the panic and remembered how to open it, I gave him the entire drawer. It and the sum of its contents were not worth my face or my life.

In case you’re wondering, I did not see my life flash before my eyes that day, nor did I have any sort of out of body experience, probably because I had zero plans of losing my life that day over a drawer full of hoagie money. Nope. Not me. Sure, I was scared beyond comprehension. I was only 17. But I managed to refrain from passing out, throwing up or shitting my pants.

And despite my latest Iowa encounters with the runaway horse, deer and even the overzealous hunters, I did none of those things the other day either.

I admit that I briefly considered running over the dude with the gun just to teach him not to phuck with a Philly girl. But I quickly thought better of it. I know better than to antagonize an armed and possibly intoxicated a-hole.

So I opted instead to speed up and give him a friendly Iowa wave (and not just my favorite finger) as I passed him and his buddy as-quickly-as-possible. I needed to get on my way. Like I said, I had a cookie exchange to get to.

Deck the Halls with Cookies and Candy! Fa-lala-lalaaa…

5 Comments

My holiday baking and candy making extravaganza begins today!

A self-proclaimed chewy-gewy treat addict, I’ll admit I’ve waited all year for this. I’ve always loved to bake and get otherwise creative in the kitchen.

I think all of us creative types need a second imaginative outlet. If you’re primarily a painter, perhaps you also like to sing? If you’re a musician, maybe you also act? Many writers I know turn to the kitchen, whether it be baking or cooking or creative drink making (and drink drinking), for the release of that unspent pent up artistic energy.

While I too partake in the occasional drinky-drink for various inspired and not-so-inspired reasons, personally I love baking. It satisfies my creative needs and soothes my soul, much like writing. And in recent years, to the gratitude of my family and friends, I’ve added making candy and canning jellies and jams to my repertoire! And, of course, I never do anything half-assed (my father taught me that lesson!). Nope. I joyfully frolic in complete creative obsession!

Back before I became a wife and mom, I would compete with myself year after year. If I made 20 different types of cookies one year, I had to make at least 21 varieties the next. Spending the majority of my 20s living and working in North Jersey and New York City, it often seemed that the size of my apartment and closet-sized kitchens were counter-proportional to the quantity of cookies and cakes I chose to make.

But that’s when I learned to improvise. Add a little extra creativity to the mix, so to speak, and you can make anything work. For example, when I ran out of counter space, I turned to the coffee table, sofa, chairs and window sills. One year, I had an army of gingerbread men strategically spread throughout my tiny one bedroom apartment. They had already invaded my kitchen, living room, bedroom and even my bathtub. A dozen or so of them were waiting outside, perhaps planning their next attack from my fire escape.

Competitive and obsessive? Who me?

Well if the snow shoe fits!

The Christmas following the birth of my daughter, it got worse. With a new bundle of joy and a recent kidney disease diagnosis, all of our money was going to diapers and doctors. We were flat broke. While I could’ve given up my festive holiday hobby, I decided instead to get even more creative with it. So I got my supplies on sale and made my own packaging, decorations, ornaments and wrappers. Since these were the only gifts we could afford to give, I wanted to make sure each one was made with love. I wanted my family and friends to feel special and know that even though we’re struggling financially (and at times, physically), we love and cherish them very much.

At first, I struggled with it. I thought my loved ones would feel slighted. I wondered if they thought I was being selfish, cheap or stingy. But you know what? I was worried for nothing because in comparison to gifts we’d bought over the years and wrapped with pretty and expensive paper, ribbons and bows, the people in our lives seemed to appreciate these homemade gifts even more. And perhaps more than they loved receiving and consuming them, I loved making and sharing them.

In regards to our financial situation, well we’re not out of the woods yet. Far. From. It! We’re all in the same boat, and the economy has taken a paddle to everyone’s bottom line.

Had I known the economy was going to crash mere months after I quit my job to take a huge risk and become an aspiring novelist… well, I would have still done it. No guts, no glory. Right? No pain, no gain? I guess I’m a glutton for more than just sweets. Let’s just say, I’m bound and more-than-determined to stay the course and live life by these sorts of mantras until I achieve my dream. Then at that point, I’ll continue doing it for shits and giggles.

So today, I start my annual making and baking for the holidays. In round one, I will be making candy cane kiss cookies from scratch and itty-bitty baby cheesecakes with homemade toppings. My homemade toppings will be comprised of jams and jellies I’ve made and canned throughout the year. Tomorrow, I’ll add the classics: oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, meringues and snickerdoodles for a few of my favorite elves.

Round two will be all about candy. Val’s Candy Workshop has already been prepped. I’ll be making coconut cream bon-bons, peppermint patties, peanut butter cups and brittle. Plus I got tons of candied fruit, pretzels, cookies and some other homemade goodies with which to experiment.

This year, the secret password is fondue.

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like chewy-gewy calories and chocolate covered everything! We can worry about burning it all off in the New Year.