Discovering. Rediscovering.
How a bad metaphor got me thinking about both
Before we begin…
Hi, Friends,
I’m back. I hope you all had a safe and happy 4th of July. I turned away from the holiday itself, read the news, and prayed. Then I wrote because the world I build on the page is one way I can process and yes, avoid at least for a brief while, the world that is unfolding around me.
In the process, I made a small discovery. Or was it a rediscovery?
Welcome! You’ve reached Spark. Learn more here or just read on. If you received this from a friend, please join us by subscribing. It’s free! All you have to do is press the button below. If you have already subscribed, welcome back! If you see something you like, please hit that heart so others can find us more easily.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t a honeymoon
I struggled this week to rewrite a stubbornly resistant section of my novel I’d dubbed, for want of a better metaphor, “The Honeymoon.” The section follows my two main characters during the early years after losses that devastated them but lead them to an unexpected partnership which challenges what they know about themselves and the world. Against all expectations, these first few years are marked by surprise, growth and even joy.
Then it hit me that the obstacle was calling this section a honeymoon. This is no honeymoon, this is a period of discovery and rediscovery.
This resonated with me. I began to think about all the times I’ve made big moves, started a new undertaking, or left a relationship or committed to one. There was that period, after finally taking the plunge, when every action, idea, thought, insight quivered with possibility and also the sense of growth. I could feel new shoots of confidence trying to break through the crust of assumptions and even pain I’d been carrying around. Everything felt new. I felt new. That sense of newness or discovery carried me through the times of exhaustion, fear, fatigue. For a while anyway.
I remember when we left New Jersey and moved to San Diego in 2002, leaving behind friends and family (mostly mine), and jobs that had served us well. We crested the hill near our new house where the branches of a giant pine arced across the top of the hill and framed the road that swooped down and seemed to end in the Pacific Ocean. The water was blue that March afternoon. So was the sky. The word that came to mind: limitless. We still didn’t know if we’d made the right decision or a wrong one, only that we’d made it and now what lay ahead was figuring out how to live with it.
I discovered a sense of freedom that comes with breaking away from what is known along with the anxiety that comes with moving to a city I didn’t know filled with people I didn’t know. I continued to do the work I knew but this time as a contractor, my own boss. I edged towards the writing that I’d always intended to do. That, too, produced anxiety. Now that obstacles like less flexible work schedules and parenting were removed, I had to confront my old fear of failure in a more direct way. As I did, I passed through several phases of rediscovering the frightened kid I thought I’d buried but also the woman who’d finally grown enough to help her.
Since working on this part of my novel, I’ve been wondering about the cycles of discovery and rediscovery or, more accurately, the ratio of these two forces in my life. No doubt, my upcoming birthday has something to do with this. Uncovering the new, the unexpected happens less often than does rediscovering places, people, ideas, notions that were once new to me but have retreated back into the landscape or the recesses of my mind. I am not yet sure how I feel about this. On the other hand, just thinking about it helped me frame that stubborn section in the rough draft of my novel. I wonder what else I’ll come upon as I keep at it.
A few recent discoveries: New Books on My TBR List
Two books from Maine
I discovered The Midcoast and Mill Town: Reckoning With What Remains while trying to search out a novel with a title I forget by an author whose name I cannot recall. Sound familiar? I read it in the late eighties or early nineties when it first came out. I remember it took place in Maine. Or she lived there. I remember a small, misanthropic character who may or may not have had a hunchback or was a dwarf but who definitely had a red beard or red hair. The book was written with both wit and heart and I remember seeking out interviews by the writer later. The title had two words. One of them, I think, began with “C.”I lost and found it once before but now it is once again lost to me. She was someone I wanted to follow. And now I’ve lost her. I’ve tried all the googles with scraps of what I think I know. If any of this sounds familiar or you have a magic way of searching both memories and google for lost books, let me know (hypnosis maybe?).
In the meantime, I stumbled across two fairly new reads that are rooted in Maine. One’s a thriller. The other is nonfiction. Both look amazing.
The Midcoast by Adam White drew me in after I read this review which extolls the author’s ability to tell a gripping tale while unearthing the deeper mysteries and conflicts of a family and of a small New England town where, ultimately, there is nowhere to hide.
Mill Town: Reckoning With What Remains by Kerri Arsenault asks “who or what we are willing to sacrifice for our own survival. Kerri Arsenault grew up in Mexico, Maine where the paper mill supported the town for over a century. Like most mills in Northern New England, this mill sustained families for all those years but also contributed to its demise.
And one from well outside of Maine
Then there is a book that has nothing to do with Maine. Instead Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin offers a story about two friends who partner in college to make a video game and reach dizzying heights of success over thirty years. I’m interested in long-term relationships, especially those that fall outside of the usual love-story. John Green calls it “Utterly brilliant. In this sweeping, gorgeously written novel, Gabrielle Zevin charts the beauty, tenacity, and fragility of human love and creativity. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow is one of the best books I've ever read.”
A Podcast I Might Actually Listen To
I confess that I love the idea of podcasts but hardly ever listen to one all the way through. I’d much rather read the transcript than fill my head with yet more voices. I think I need to get over this. I’m going to start with A Strong Sense of Place , a podcast about books for which place is as important as characters. We talked a bit about this idea not long ago. A Strong Sense of Place (see the home page here) is not only intriguing but a great source of books to read so I’m adding it to our Resources for Book Clubs & Readers.
Do you have a podcast you would recommend to readers and writers? Let us know and we’ll add it to our Resources for Readers and Writers
(Thank you to Gayla Gray from So Novelicious for introducing me to A Strong Sense of Place in this great interview with its founders Melissa Jouwad and David Humphreys)
If you’d like to share this info with other folks who are love Maine or love reading, here’s a button that makes it very easy:
Where We Get Our Books
If you’ve been with me since the beginning of Spark, you’ll notice the same sign off each week – referring everyone to the Spark Community Recommendations Page at bookshop org where every purchase supports local bookstores. I’ve been promising to update you on the status of our commission.
Sorry to say, we’ve only raised $9.70 in commissions in roughly two years. This is not a bad thing. It just means most of us don’t actually buy our books from bookshop.org. So, I’d like to ask: where do you get most of the books you read? Take this quick poll.
As for the money itself, I’ve got some ideas for how we might support both writers and literacy programs no matter where we get our books. I’ll be running these by you in the coming weeks.
Welcome new subscribers!
Before signing off, I want to welcome all new subscribers. It’s thrilling to to find so many new folks on board each day - especially after taking a break! If you would like to check out past issues, here’s a quick link to the archives. Be sure to check out our Resources for Readers and Writers too.
That’s it for this week. Let me know you are and what you’re reading. If there’s an idea, book, or question you’d like to see in an upcoming issue of Spark, let us know! Use the comment button below or just hit reply to this email and send your message directly.
And remember, If you like what you see or it resonates with you, please take a minute to click the heart ❤️ below - it helps more folks to find us!
Ciao for now.
Gratefully,
Betsy
P.S. And now, your moment of Zen…a brief lesson in chilling out
Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”
What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.
Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed.
I can’t wait to see what you send!
Searingly honest and thorough reflections build connections. I am grateful to be a member of your audience.
I usually start with the public library. If I love the book or need more time to read it or just want to have it, I purchase from Thrift books. Their software for searching and the price choices are great!