Walk Away from the Page.

Sometimes when I'm writing, I fear walking away from the page. I've gotten to a certain point, and now nothing good is coming out, and the blinking cursor is mocking me, heightening my anxiety that this writing business is all just a farce. Tonight is such a night. So I started cleaning my house. It needed it so I had good enough reason. But as I set about gathering laundry and scouring dishes, the anxiety of the unwritten page, the lack of ideas, followed me.

So I sat down and picked up Hemingway. This is the passage that leaped off the page at me, gave me permission to walk away.

“I always worked till I had something done and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next. That way I could be sure of going on the next day. But sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get going, I would sit in front of the fire an squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs Paris and think, ‘Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.’ So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy because there was always one true sentence that I knew or had seen or had heard someone say. If I started to write elaborately, or like someone introducing or presenting something, I found that I could cut that scrollwork or ornament out and start with the first true simple declarative sentence I had written. Up in that room I decided I would write one story about each thing that I knew about. I was trying to do this all the time I was writing, and it was a good and severe discipline. 

It was in that room too that I learned not to think about anything that I was writing from the time I stopped writing until the time that I started again the next day. That way my subconscious would be working on it and at the same time I would be listening to other people and noticing everything, I hoped; learning, I hoped; and I would not think about my work and make myself impotent to it.” - Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast.

If you're a writer, it is so necessary to read. I know that seems obvious - I don't know a writer that doesn't love to read. But I would be willing to bet that many writers struggle with the same thing that I do - if I read, I'm not writing, and if I'm not writing, I could fall behind, forget my focus, lose my muse. This is the real farce : that walking away is somehow a form of quitting. No, you just have to have rest your writing, feed it, nourish it. You have to let things influence and inspire you.

What do you think? Who are the writers that most inspire you?

Some more Hemingway, plus advice about writing from the great minds behind other American classics. 

book·ish : My To-Read List

Do you remember my goal list for 2012? Reading more was one of my goals, and I've stuck with it pretty well. I wanted to read an average of a book per month. I know other people who devour books on a weekly basis, but my schedule doesn't allow for that, sadly. 

I read Bird by Bird in January/February and Blue Like Jazz in February/March. I just wrapped up Great House, which held some enlightening and intuitive passages, but I am now ready for a change of pace.

On my way home from work today I finally snagged a copy of A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. It's one of those that always seems to be checked out, but today was my lucky day. There are still a few others on my waiting list that I can never seem to catch, like The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides, or On the Road by Jack Kerouac. 

After this I think I'll either read Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott or The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. 

So. What are you reading right now?

[Photo.]

~

book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective

1. (of a person or way of life) Devoted to reading and studying rather than worldly interests.

2. (of language or writing) Literary in style or allusion.

3. (of art and all manner of lovely things) devoted to the written word as a form of art and as a way of seeing the world.

4. (of SheWritesandRights.blogspot.com) anything of the aforementioned characteristics as they arefound on the interwebs and reposted by Bethany, because bookish and writerly things always give reason for amusement.

book·ish : what do you read when you travel?

I stood in the airport before I left for the first of four flights en route to Austria for a whole semester, and realized I hadn't brought a book. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of having nothing in my hands, nothing to preoccupy my mind for that much time. So I went to the book kiosk and picked up Atonement, and since I had already seen the movie, I figured I might like it. Did I ever! This is one of my favorite books of all time, and there could not have been a more appropriate novel to carry around Europe. When I read a good book, I love to become immersed in it, imagine myself as the characters. The setting for McEwan's novel [1930's and World War II Europe] was the perfect fictional backdrop to my travels and my studies. What are your reading habits when you travel? If you read books, do you prefer fiction or non? Autobiographical? Does a magazine suit your attention span better? Do you prefer a book to a digital reader?

book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective

1. (of a person or way of life) Devoted to reading and studying rather than worldly interests.

2. (of language or writing) Literary in style or allusion.

3. (of art and all manner of lovely things) devoted to the written word as a form of art and as a way of seeing the world.

4. (of SheWritesandRights.blogspot.com) anything of the aforementioned characteristics as they are found on the interwebs and reposted by Bethany, because bookish and writerly things always give reason for amusement.*

*All items posted in the book·ish section are found by myself and posted of my own accord unless otherwise stated. If you would like to be a sponsor or host a giveaway, please contact me at shewritesandrights[at]gmail[dot]com.

book·ish: Favorite Book of All Time.

It's the beginning of October. It's a time for cider, bonfires, comfort food, sweaters and boots. And it's time for The Time Traveler's Wife. I've told you before about my obsession with this novel, but here I am. I'm about to pull it off my shelf, crack it open, fall in love with it all over again.

I can't explain it, but something about fall reminds me of this book and makes me want to read it, so I've made a tradition of it. Perhaps it's because the first time I read it, it was fall. Perhaps it's because the novel begins with a beautiful October day in Chicago, much like the one I'm enjoying today. Perhaps it's the symmetry bittersweetness of golden leaves as they fall to the ground and the colorful, heartrending love story of Henry DeTamble and Clare Abshire that commands me: stop. read. relish.

So if you haven't read it, now would be a wonderful time to start.

Source: google.com via Bethany on Pinterest

If you can narrow it down to just one, what is your favorite book? Do you have a book that you read over and over again? Do you reread a certain book at a certain time of year? Am I crazy?

~

book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective

1. (of a person or way of life) Devoted to reading and studying rather than worldly interests.

2. (of language or writing) Literary in style or allusion.

3. (of art and all manner of lovely things) devoted to the written word as a form of art and as a way of seeing the world.

4. (of SheWritesandRights.blogspot.com) anything of the aforementioned characteristics as they are found on the interwebs and reposted by Bethany, because bookish and writerly things always give reason for amusement.

I'm Not the Story Weaver.

I am a writer. Consequently, my general outlook on life is a series of archetypes, themes, plots, summaries, critiques... there's a lot of pre-writing and re-writing going on in my head, and there's no switch to turn it off. All the world is a stage, you know.

But it's the endings I'm not good at. I'm a total sap when it comes to endings. Mostly, I envision that the story actually comes to an end, a resolution. I often realize much further on in my writing and reading that this is a false assumption.

Lately, I've begun to wonder about our fascination with the fairy-tale ending. We began by expecting it, and now we've become disillusioned with it, naturally.

But where does the fallacy lie in "happily ever after"?

Is there no such thing as happiness?

Or have we made a bad habit of ending the story at the wrong part?

So the prince and the princess get married... and???  What comes after that? What exactly constitutes the "happily ever after"? A fairy-tale prince or princess would never be unfaithful to one another. The prince would never be a deadbeat dad. The princess would never become a bitter, self-conscious old woman that drives her prince and her children crazy. They would never lose the castle, the talking livestock, and the pumpkin carriage in a faulty investment. They would never bicker or become alcoholics or abuse their kids. They would never die of terminal illnesses.

And yet, here we are. We live in a dichotomy of pure joy and pure tragedy. We find love and we find hate. We can't get rid of the evil stepsisters and the villains; quite often we are our own worst enemy. We make the best decisions we've ever made, and then we screw it up.

Maybe it's the ambiguity of it, the elusive "happiness" that leaves us confused and frustrated and empty when we try to live in the "ever after." The brokenness wasn't supposed to happen, but it did, and we can't see how it could ever be right again. We have no pre-text for what to do when we screw up, so the "happily ever after" plan is eradicated.

Or maybe it's that we've totally abandoned the possibility of redemption.

I yearn for the easy answer, the redemptive ending. I wish I could tie the strings of all our loose ends together so that our lives would never unravel as they so often do. I keep finding myself trying to weave it all together, tightly, to make it mean something, to make our stories and our selves whole again.

I think it's better if I just stop trying to rewrite the thing. Life is beautiful and gripping and horrific and triumphant and tragic enough on its own.

I'm not the Story-Weaver. I need to just keep reading.



[Image Source: None via Bethany on Pinterest]

Words and Strings

Because I couldn't help but fall in love with this passage, I thought I'd share it with you:

"So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days, you can hear their chorus rushing past:

IwasabeautifulgirlPleasedon’tgoItoobelievemybodyismadeofglassI’veneverlovedanyoneIthinkofmyselfasfunnyForgiveme…


There was a time when it wasn’t uncommon to use a piece of string to guide words that otherwise might falter on the way to their destinations. Shy people carried a little bunch of string in their pockets, but people considered loudmouths had no less need for it, since those used to being overheard by everyone were often at a loss for how to make themselves heard by someone. The physical distance between two people using a string was often small; sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for the string. 


The practice of attaching cups to the ends of string came much later. Some say it is related to the irrepressible urge to press shells to our ears, to hear the still-surviving echo of the world’s first expression. Others say it was started by a man who held the end of a string that was unraveled across the ocean by a girl who left for America. 


When the world grew bigger, and there wasn’t enough string to keep the things people wanted to say from disappearing into the vastness, the telephone was invented. 


Sometimes no length of string is long enough to say the thing that needs to be said. In such cases all the string can do, in whatever its form, is conduct a person’s silence."

- Nicole Krauss, A History of Love

[Photo.]

Library Card! and What I'm Reading Now

Guess what? I am now in possession of my very own library card! I haven't had one since moving to Illinois [unless you count my college ID, but we're talking reading for pleasure here, so it doesn't count.] So technically, this is the first library card I've had since I was in high school.

I know, I know. You're thinking, Bethany "bookish" girl didn't have a library card? What's up with that? But the truth is, I've had this really bad habit, like all book addicts do, of buying most of the books that I wanted to read. [Tell me I'm not the only one that does this!] And then I realized I was broke. I'm sick of borrowing books or just going through dry spells of not reading, so I am now the proud owner of a library card, and I checked out The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. 

Ever read it? Seems like everyone is raving about it right now. I'm 50 pages in [since starting last night!] and I understand why!

So what are you reading? And do you have a library card or do you buy or borrow all of your books? 

book·ish : It All Ends 7.15.

As I write this, I realize I was kidding myself to think that what I feel for this beloved series would ever fit in a single blog post. But then, if you've been reading my blog and know me at all, you are likely a fan of the series, too. In which case, we both know that emotional connections to stories like Harry Potter cannot be explained in words.

Yes, I am tearing up even as I write this. Because the series that accompanied my adolescence, the characters that even now speak to me about bravery, friendship, and love that concurs death, are about to light the silver screen for the final time.

The books will always be here. The movies will be playing over and over for years to come. Still, there's something about seeing this series come to a close that puts things in perspective: I am a grown-up now. Life moves on. I am no longer that 13-year-old, frizzy-haired, introverted word-nerd reading

The Goblet of Fire under my covers at 3 a.m.

Source: eblekage.tumblr.com via Bethany on Pinterest

The small, shining faces of Harry [Daniel Radcliffe], Ron [Rupert Grint] and Hermione [Emma Watson] seem adorably dwarfed and baby-ish in retrospect. Next to their matured versions, we have proof that although it feels like just yesterday, 10 years worth of yesterdays have passed since they first appeared in The Sorcerer's Stone in 2001.

A lot has happened.

Source: sarahbethkilby.tumblr.com via Bethany on Pinterest

For them and for us.

We've grown, too, together and in our own ways. Just like these fictional characters that feel so deeply real, we have struggled to hold our world together, to step forward when no one else will, to accept those very different from ourselves, to understand our enemies, to cling to love and friendship in our darkest moments, to decide who we are and who we could be. And we've survived, too.

So Jo, thank you for giving my generation a renewed love for reading, a true understanding for the power of literature to influence lives.

Whitney, dear cousin, thank you for all the times you let me come over and read the newest installment within 24 hours, and for helping me sneak off to the theater to see the latest film.

Harry, it's been a pleasure. Expecto Patronum.

~

book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective

1. (of a person or way of life) Devoted to reading and studying rather than worldly interests.

2. (of language or writing) Literary in style or allusion.

3. (of art and all manner of lovely things) devoted to the written word as a form of art and as a way of seeing the world.

4. (of SheWritesandRights.blogspot.com) anything of the aforementioned characteristics as they are found on the interwebs and reposted by Bethany, because bookish and writerly things always give reason for amusement.

My To-Read List

So I'm sitting at my local Starbucks on a Saturday morning for the first time in awhile. The scent of my grande Bold Pick wafts over from the table next to me, and people chatter to one another over their coffee. A really cute older couple are meeting on a first date at the table next to me. He is wearing a flat cap and a sweater vest. She looks like a brunette Martha Stewart. It's sweet to hear them talk about their grandchildren and the apartment complexes they live in and insurance premiums and their favorite places in the city.

This morning I was tempted to simply post the draft I had written earlier this week, the one that I would have posted for you on Wednesday had Blogger actually been working. Yet, it seems that the unexpected extra time was the best remedy for the inexplicable hesitancy I had in posting it before, because after reading the draft again and skimming through old posts, I realized - I've said this before. This happens to me often. More often than I'd like to admit.

So instead I'm going to touch on a subject I haven't mentioned in awhile: what I'm reading. Last weekend I went to see the newest film adaptation of Jane Eyre starring Mia Waskowska and Michael Fassbender and Judy Dench (love her!). I loved it.

I have never read the book, which I feel slightly ashamed to admit as an English major.  My best friend owns the book and let me borrow it after we saw the film and I am now about one fourth of the way through it and enjoying every page. Literature of that era is often hard to adjust to because of the vocabulary, but Charlotte Bronte wrote from Jane's perspective with distinct frankness, making it an easy read. My best friend claims that I'll fall in love with Mr. Rochester even more than Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy, but that remains to be seen. 

My goal this year has been to read at least one book per month, but I haven't been disciplined thus far. I think I can have Jane Eyre read by the end of May if I read at least two chapters per day. With my nine-to-fiver and freelance work, plus writing this blog and all the other responsibilities I am tied to, reading for pleasure all too often takes a back seat. Yet, when I am reading a book I enjoy, I feel much more edified and inspired than when I'm not.

So here is my to-read list for the next few months; hopefully I can stick to my goal and get through all of them:

I Wish Someone Were Waiting for Me Somewhere by Anna Galvada

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

One Day by David Nicholls

O Me of Little Faith by Jason Boyett

Quitter by Jon Acuff

Blood, Bones, & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

Love in the Time of Cholera by Bagriel Garcia Marquez

Love Wins - Rob Bell

Surprised by Hope - N.T. Wright

Writing Down the Bones - Natalie Goldberg

Bossypants by Tina Fey

As you can see, my list is a mixed bag of fiction, theology, "self help," foodie reads and writing advice. I'd love to know your reading list. Are any of these on your list or have you read them already?

Have a good weekend, friends.

Why I Write : A Good Read.

Sometimes, in the simultaneous business and laziness of daily life, I forget how truly delicious it is to devour a good book. For as much as I love writing and reading, I don't read books as often as I'd like. Several dozen of my favorites lay waiting on my shelves, gathering dust and whispering to me,

"Have you forgotten the moment when Michael discovers Hanna's secret? Have you forgotten the scene when Claire and Henry meet in the library for the first time? Remember that favorite line you read over and over in Stafford's poem, 'the signals we give-yes, or no, or maybe- should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.' Or the sensibility you felt when you finished The Great Divorce? Open me. Read me."

 I neglect them, thinking, I've read you before. I need something new, something that will take me by surprise. At the same time, I have an annoying habit of buying or borrowing books that I don't finish. Even classics that others rave are their favorites lay half-worn and dog-eared to page 54, and the next 200 pages lay completely untouched.

So when I grabbed Bernard Schlink's Homecoming to take with me on the train downtown this weekend, I wasn't expecting to get caught up in it. I loved Schlink's The Reader from the page one, but Homecoming, with all its intricacies and seemingly unrelated circumstances that surround the life of Peter DeBauer, did not earn my momentum as easily and so it lay discarded and half-read on my shelf for two years. It was the lightest book I could grab on my way out the door to spend the day in the city - just in case I had a spare moment of boredom and found myself in desperate need of distraction. Somehow in reading it this weekend I was able to push through my disinterest and finally understand Peter's voice in the story.

I don't think it was Schlink's writing that was to blame for my previous neglect; I am woefully immature when I open a book. If it's from an author I've read before, as is the case with Homecoming, I have a set of expectations that need to be broken down and replaced with something better than I could have imagined. The author needs to simultaneously break my expectations with something entirely different, and yet they also need to offer me pieces of them that I found fascinating in their previous works. For Schlink, he has this habit of creating highly introspective characters that take the time to ask the questions that the reader is wondering, too.

"Why? Why does what was beautiful suddenly shatter in hindsight because it concealed dark truths? Why does the memory of years of happy marriage turn to gall when our partner is revealed to have had a lover all those years? Because such a situation makes it impossible to be happy? But we were happy! Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily. Because happiness is only real if it lasts forever? Because things always end painfully if they contained pain, conscious or unconscious, all along? But what is unconscious, unrecognized pain?" 

"What is law? Is it what is on the books, or what is actually enacted and obeyed in society? Or is law what must be enacted and obeyed whether or not it is on the books, if things are to go right?"- Bernard Schlink, The Reader

Schlink does not do readers the disservice of trying to offer an answer. That his books revolve around post-war Germany and their attempts to rebuild after the World Wars tells us : we may never have an answer to these questions, whether on the larger scale of reconciling past mistakes as they pertain to feuding countries, genocide, or law, or on the smaller scale of personal relationships between men and women, parents and children, strangers and friends.

And Schlink has a knack for plot twisting. You can sense as you read that pieces of the puzzle have yet to fall into place, that beneath all the questions and examinations of law, culture, society, and archetypal themes, an unforeseeable truth lies waiting for you and the protagonist. Once revealed, the effect is stunningly perfect; the beguiling maze of its progression now makes complete sense, even while you wonder, mournfully, why it had to end that way for the characters.

Needless to say, I'm enjoying Homecoming so much that I almost didn't take the time to write this post, yet reading it is so inspiring that I couldn't help but write about it.

That's what a good read will do for a writer, and that's why it's so important to continue to feed our imaginations with as many stories as possible.

Reading spurs me on toward new ideas and possibilities, and soon my well of inspiration is overflowing onto the page.

Feed your hunger for a good read, and your own page will never starve.

Ritual: Poetry

I have this book, Good Poems, a collection from Garrison Keillor. He compiled a collection of more than 300 poems of every type and subject, written by the greats - Shakespeare, Donne, Yeats, Dickinson, Whitman, Frost, Hughes - and other lesser known poets.

I first discovered the book when I was a page at my local library. When I was bored during my shift, I'd sneak into the poetry section, grab this book and read it where the librarians couldn't see me from the front desk.

I loved it so much that I bought it, and now, every once in awhile I pull it from my shelf, entwine myself in a blanket, and read and read and read.

Never have I started at the beginning of the book and worked my way to the end, a phenomenon I only just realized the other day. I always find myself opening to a random page and reading it. Backwards. If I open to page 342, I work my way back through the book: 341, 340, 339... I have no idea why.

And I don't read it silently, and I don't read a poem only once. I often find myself reading it aloud, many times over. The second, third, or even fourth time takes me deeper and deeper into the poem until its rhythm becomes ingrained in me, like a tidal wave or the melody of a song, or the steady tick of a clock.

And when I reflect on each word - its meaning, its placement, the subsequent punctuation - I find a clue, a piece of the puzzle that reveals a little more about the writer's thoughts and feelings, their stream of consciousness.

Somehow this ritual, the book between my hands, the blanket cloaked around me, the sound of my own voice stumbling over the rhythm like waves over rocks until I am finally immersed in it like a river tide, feels more right and real to me than prose does right now.

One of my favorites:

A Light Left On

by May Sarton

In the evening we came back

Into our yellow room,

For a moment taken aback

To find the light left on,

Falling on silent flowers,

Table, book, empty chair

While we had gone elsewhere,

Had been away for hours.

When we came home together,

We found the inside weather.

All of our love unended

The quiet light demanded,

And we gave, in a look

At yellow walls and open book.

The deepest worlds we share

And do not talk about

But have to have, was there,

And by that light found out.

What are your favorite poems or poetry sources? Do you have a hard time reading poetry? Do you have a method for reading it that helps you understand it better? Do you enjoy another artistic medium better - music, visual arts, prose? What inspires you?

Top 10: Books that Changed (or Made) My Life

When did I first decide that I wanted to write? It's funny... I don't remember. I wouldn't say that I have always wanted to write, but I can say that I've always loved to read.

This week, one of the assignments that my writing partner and I gave each other was to choose a book that made us want to write... and of course, I could not think of just one. Which led me to wonder, is it fair to try and only choose one, or would it be more honest to say that it was all books, or maybe the act of reading itself that gave me the urge to write? For reasons I don't entirely understand, I'm hesitant to try and answer that question. At times, a single phrase in a book overwhelms me with inspiration. Other times, I find a deep sense of gratification in the story as a whole. And then there are the moments when the sheer act of turning a page, of smelling an old book, of holding it with both hands, is a deeply spiritual, emotional experience.

As we discussed our picks, I was struck anew with the realization of how deeply influential good writing is and how transformative it is when people learn to read. As a young girl, my days were filled with great stories, pages, and words. When my frizzy-haired, stick-figured self had no one to relate to, I always found deep comfort in the weight of a book in my hands, and a deeply awkward main character, not unlike myself, that could be found within it's pages.

And at every stage of my life, it seems, I've found book after book that meets me where I am emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and it takes me somewhere new. Even better, I love to find out that the people who wrote them were also once awkward, inquisitive, imaginative young people that found books and authors that inspired them, too.

The Official List:

1. I Think that It is Wonderful - I read this over and over when I was little! The start of my love for poetry.

2. Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, Judy Blume - between the ages of 8 and 13, I read this about 400 times! It was the first book that I remember mentioning World War II, Hitler, and anything about being a Jew. Note to teachers and parents: I recall this book much easier than any elementary school history lesson...

3. The Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster - the first book where my teacher told us to think about writing themes and messages, rather than merely text.

4. A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle - between the ages of 10 and 14, I read this about 800 times! The characters were so unique, but utterly relatable.

5. Harry Potter (1-7), J.K. Rowling - controversial those these books were in my household, they had a huge impact on my life and my desire to write. My own peers, kids who at one point felt indifferent to reading where consuming these books like after-school snacks - all 700+ pages of each one! And suddenly, the underdogs, the awkward, geeky kids had a hero who fit their mold. And suddenly, it was cool for teenagers to talk about the things that are important in life, like love, friendship, good versus evil, and ask ourselves, could we be as brave as Harry, Ron, or Hermione?

6. A Great and Terrible Beauty, Libba Bray - initially, it was the sheer gorgeousness of the cover that made me pick this one up. But the style of writing, the character of Gemma Doyle, and the recurring theme of coming of age as a young woman had me hooked from the first page. (Sadly, the sequels don't quite live up.)

7. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley - by the time I finished college, I had read this book for a class no less than 5 times. A little daunting after the third time, but I still love it. The first time I was assigned to read it was in my high school British Literature class, and after reading it we had to write a 10-12 page research paper. To this day, that paper is one of my proudest accomplishments [135 points out of a possible 135 points from one of the most demanding teachers at our school!) and I am still utterly fascinated by the layers and layers of meaning to be found between it's pages, not to mention the inspiring author herself who dominated her own husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron - at the age of 18, no less!

8. The Reader, Bernard Schlink - It's simple: this book changed my life. I was working at my hometown library as a page, and one day I came across this book. The cover looked interesting, but I was drawn to the simple, mysterious title more than anything. It was the Oprah's Book Club seal on the cover that kept me from actually checking out for 6 months... When I finally did pick it up, I found a story so rich with compassion and raw, utterly human history that I could not believe that I had not even heard of it before. It's been made into a great film, but I highly suggest you read the book first. If I had to choose, this would be the book that made me want to be a writer.

9. The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger - If I were stranded on an island and could only bring with me one book, this would be it. The characters, the plot, the writing - all work together to create this magnificent and completely original love story. It's like listening to your favorite album on repeat - it just never gets old, and you feel like the characters are real, like they live in your head, and that each word was written for you. DO NOT under any circumstances see the film before you read the book, or I swear you may never pick it up. Even if you read it first, I'd say the movie is a rental at best. Some may disagree, but in my opinion, that cinematic "interpretation" is like getting McDonald's when you ordered filet mignon.

10. Atonement, Ian McEwan - Of all the books I could have chosen to take with me when I traveled in Europe, I impulse-purchased this one in the airport just before we left American soil. Talk about context. Once again, the writing itself is reason enough to love it, but the characters and the story are so vivid and heartbreaking that it was glued to my hands for the first two weeks, save for that whole seeing the world part of my trip... Again, this book has a film adaptation, and I am happy to say that it is every bit as good as the book itself, although I always recommend reading it first.

Tell me, what are your favorite books?

A Time for the Bittersweet.

It's been a few days since my last post, mostly because the last two days of work brought me twice as many emails as I've been getting in the last two weeks! But I wanted to take a minute to lasso my thoughts into something tangible, and to get some feedback.

Last night, I finally sat down with two of my very dear friends for the first time in several weeks. We ate dinner, talked, prayed, shared news, and laughed about many things. And then I saw it. Laying on the ottoman next to my feet was Mackenzie's fresh copy of Bittersweet, the newest book by one of our favorite authors, Shauna Niequist. I wound up reading aloud a chapter called "Twenty-five."

The chapter is at once a call to action, a letter to Shauna's twenty-five-year-old self, and a prayer for twenty-somethings everywhere who are desperate to figure out who they are and what they want.

"Now is the time," Shauna says again and again. Now is the time before families, before mortgages, before iron-clad schedules, before "job security" that keeps us from reaching for what it is that we're actually passionate about. Before it gets that far, ask yourself what you want and make sure you do it.

Could there have been a better time for the 3 of us to read this? Now IS the time. So we talked. We talked about what we want and what we know we're good at it and what we're doing now to try and make it happen. No solid conclusions, but I am finding more and more that in this period of time where change is the only constant, we should stop being afraid of change and start using it to our advantage.

And this is the very core of Shauna's book: change itself is bittersweet, but it makes our lives so surprisingly, unexpectedly, and beautifully rich. Like coffee. Like chocolate. Like a good Merlot. Like a deliciously well-written chapter in a book.

What I like about chapter "Twenty-five" is how Shauna examines our tendency to cling to familiarity, to circumstances that keep us from reaching our full potential because we are afraid of change.

Any life-changing moment, any epiphany we have doesn't come when we're walking on cloud nine. It doesn't come from being in our comfort zone. It comes when we've just discovered that what we thought was "good enough" isn't good for us, and so we have to try something different in order to find that thing we "can't live without."

I'm not sure that life is about finding ways to make yourself "happy." Can any of us define what that is? There is no remedy, no choice that can ensure that elusive thing that is often only there to make us dissatisfied with what we've already been blessed with.

"Happiness" only satisfies one facet of our appetites, and eventually we realize it isn't enough to make us whole. And then we realize, we don't like the person we're becoming. What we really need is balance. We need boldness and courage.

Bittersweet is a way of life, one that's more real and true and one that allows us to make decisions with the wisdom that the bitter and the sweet, the good and the bad, are intertwined and equally necessary to becoming selves that we are proud of.

We may hate that we don't have everything figured out right now. We may wish that we had peace of mind, the feeling of being secure, settled. But peace never comes at the cost of settling.

Instead of grabbing desperately for the time when we're so sure we're going to "have everything figured out," let's take our twenty-something years and live them like we know they should be: the years that we will look back on as some of the most poignant, the most teaching, the most changing, the most triumphant, the most bittersweet.

The Writing, Reading Woman.

I'm telling the truth when I say that I have started at least four blog posts in the last week, and have only gotten through two or three sentences before losing steam and deciding I am too tired for my thoughts to make sense here. I have written several times in my journal where I feel more free to let my mind wander unhindered from deeply personal things to the more reader-friendly subjects I might have posted online. I like blogging, but my biggest enemies are the back button and the little red "X" in the upper left hand corner of this window. I'll try to make this short and succinct before my motivation runs dry.

I am currently reading Traveling with Pomegranates, a co-authored memoir by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter, Ann Kidd Taylor. The memoir walks readers through major life transitions of both mother and daughter, set against the backdrop of a richly feminist view of Ancient Europe. Sue is a 50-something woman coming to grips with the end of her youth and the beginning of her writing career. Ann is a 20-something woman coming to grips with the end of her undergraduate studies, and subsequently her plans for graduate school, which have been rejected by the only university she applied to. Ann has no alternative plans and has fallen into a deep and nearly inconsolable depression while Sue has fallen into her own state of despondency as her body begins to exhibit premenopausal effects.

As Sue passes the torch to her daughter and Ann hesitates to accept it, both experience spiritual awakenings and personal enlightenment that are heavily influenced by divine feminist figures, from the mythical mother-daughter connection of Demeter and Persephone, to Athena, to the Virgin Mary and Joan of Arc.

This read has challenged, inspired and comforted me as I find my own struggles reflected in those of the characters. Sue, who is best known for her fictional novel The Secret Life of Bees, describes in sincere and raw detail her struggle to augment her lofty dreams of being a novelist into a tangible work. Ann pours out with frank, but almost lyrical honesty the inner pain, healing, and growth that led her to what she is now- a writer. Both women discover the necessity of drawing inspiration from wherever one may find it- the earth, recurring images, one another, and oneself. As I continue to read, their experiences both validate and soothe my own insecurities as a woman, as a wife, as a writer and as a daughter. To recognize inspiration and allow it to change one's life, Sue and Ann avow, is truly divine.

"You must learn one thing. The world is made to be free in. Give up all the other worlds except the one in which you belong." - David Whyte (quoted by Ann Kidd Taylor in Traveling With Pomegranates.)