Hello! I picked up your “my hand paints” book and couldn’t put it down for the entire 1 hour flight I was on yesterday. I haven’t quite finished but it’s truly spectacular! As a painter you’re able to articulate the emotions/process of painting that I feel but have not been able to articulate very well! One of my favorite lines/metaphors is describing seeing the process of a painting is like showing ones work in a math equation!

I think you’re such a wonderful human being. It was interesting reading it knowing you had written it after NC but before Raymond and Summer and I thought about how much has changed for you!

I’ve heard you are what you think you are, and I’ve also heard that you will manifest what you think about or believe. I got that, to a point. I understood that thinking negative thoughts would color your world negative. But then, I also read that putting a red sheet between your mattress and box spring, or painting your door red would bring you wealth. That didn’t quite ring true for me.

Asking the universe for the sale of a painting might put certain things in motion to lead to getting money. Like conceiving of a concept, doing the painting, and hanging it in a public forum.

Putting a red sheet under my mattress feels like asking to sell a picture that I haven’t painted.

Still … something unseen twitches or sparks in my brain, and motivates my muscles to move in a very particular way. Working in unison with this are my eyes, which broadcast the progress back to the brain. In this way, something is actually realized out of nothing.

And again, if I think for a long time about adopting a child, those electrical impulses make my fingers pick up a pen and fill out an application or home study questionnaire. There are so many deliberate and specific things the brain asks the fingers to do, that it takes a long time. And one day I raise those fingers again in a court of law and say I do.

In Bible School, I learned about the Latin term ex nihilo, which means out of nothing. It’s often used in connection with creation … God’s creation of the universe. And I picture the Big Bang, and all the little bangs that make a painting or a family.

I recently read or heard that there are no big or small moments in life. Just moments. The big thing happens, but then life carries on with another unique moment to follow. There are those events that seem big … a graduation ceremony or wedding, the adoption of a child … a catastrophic accident. But when the judge says this is your child, or you may now kiss your bride, it feels like a big moment.

The truth is, the thing you’ve worked or studied so hard for is the culmination of all that work … all those moments. Like the period at the end of a sentence. Guess what? There’s another sentence coming, or another chapter. So we go from the ceremony or courtroom, and get a good night’s sleep because there is school tomorrow!

There is a certain ebb and flow to life. Three years ago, I was painting a lot. The paintings just seemed to flow out of me without a lot of conscious effort. Two years ago, I put a lot of effort into making a change, or perhaps it is more accurate to say I was responding to changes that I perceived in my life and family.

My kids had all moved away, and so had every other family member that was once here. I kicked up a lot of dust in my attempt to redefine myself, only to undo all of that work and settle very consciously, back where I started.

In response to that, I wrote. Almost every day. That’s what my brain needed to do at that time. I didn’t feel bad that writing took up time that I could have been painting. They are both the same thing. Expression… communication… thinking on canvas or paper. This is how I process my thoughts. It’s not about making a painting. I didn’t know I was writing a book.

One day last winter or early spring, I suddenly stopped posting to my blog. I wasn’t being lazy, I just started doing something else.

It’s like I always say… when the paintbrushes get fidgety, I pick them up and see what they have to say. When the pen calls to me, I pick it up and see what message it wants to record.

Tonight I woke from a sound sleep with words in my fingers.

My family is changing again. It is growing this time. It’s not a sudden change, but the culmination of a lot of work (moments and decisions).

If I’m not painting or writing, I’m living. That way, I’ll have something to write or paint about later.

The man waited for his child to come out of the school. He was early, so he shut off the engine of his minivan. Everything was quiet as he waited for school to get out.

Flags flapped silently atop the flagpoles, but the man was sheltered from the wind.

There was an occasional sound of a car door in the parking lot, but it was really pretty quiet.

Years earlier, he had waited for his other children here.

Those kids were gone. They grew up and left once they had come out the doors of the school enough times.

It wasn’t enough times for the man.

He waited for his child so he could tell him the news.

My books are now available at Joy & Company in Grand Marais.

I keep returning to C.S. Lewis, as I have since I was a child. George MacDonald, Hans Christian Anderson, The Brothers Grim, and more recently Ben Loory and Italo Calvino.

Music inspires me, but I can’t listen to it and write at the same time. I do listen to music sometimes when I paint.

I’ve never really had a writing mentor. I share what I write with friends. I read about writing, and I have taken classes and joined writing groups.

My favorite writers are my mentors, I guess. I don’t have the opportunity to talk with them, but they inspire and influence me.

Getting “stuck” has not been a big problem for me. I just start writing to get it flowing.

I think about things, or notice things, and whatever is in me comes out again in creative ways. I don’t do anything to be creative. I just document the thoughts in various ways.

The biggest surprise for me in The Adventures Of Flash Meridian is that it happened at all. I didn’t plan to write a book, and I didn’t realize, for 19 years, that I was writing a book.

At first, I was writing captions for pictures. Then I was writing “episodes”. I did that for a long time. Somewhere along the way, I noticed that the episodes fit together … dovetailed into one continuous story.

Writing a novel is too big of a job for me, so I had to “unlearn” or let go of the expectation of it being anything. I wrote the book because I loved writing it. I love the surprises that I, myself, found in it. That is enough for me. Others may enjoy reading it, but I don’t need anyone to validate it. Of course I love it when someone reads it, and discusses it with me, or asks questions about it.

“Unlearning”, is a key to my writing. Through writing, I am able to focus on long held beliefs about myself and let them go. I can pack away the gifts that were given in love, and with gratitude, slip into something that fits better.

The best piece of advice I’ve gotten this week is to keep it simple. Keep the writing about the story, and not about impressing someone with my vocabulary or ability.

A piece of long term advice was to describe things, rather than just saying something was “beautiful” … what made it beautiful? Don’t ask your reader to do your work as a writer.

The next thing I’m working on is a collection of short stories.

My next book tour date will be Saturday, March 16, 3 pm at the Cook County Senior Center in Grand Marais. I’ll be reading from all three books, and will have books available for sale.

I believe every human is creative. Maybe you haven’t shown a painting in an art gallery or danced on a stage, but I believe you are creative. Navigating the pushes and pulls of life requires some ingenuity, and just being here proves that you are a survivor. You are creative.

You might think you have a plan for your life. We have to have some idea of what we will do tomorrow. But if you write your future in indelible ink, you may find yourself frustrated or disappointed. All we can do is try. We move from one day to the next with an idea, but if we are flexible, we can shift and cope with the reality tomorrow brings.

In the same way, I cannot plan the end results of my creative impulses. I listen to my spirit, and let my hands follow the leads of my heart. Each impulse informs the next one. I’m not following a recipe that someone else has worked out in a test kitchen.

And yet I do have a roadmap. Humans have been drawing and painting for many thousands of years. But I can choose the route I take, which may lead me to unexpected discoveries on that map.

Others may have followed the path I choose, but my carry on bag is different from theirs.

I bring all that I am on my journey. This makes my experience unique.

Each one of us comes upon the designated photo opportunity with a particular history that is unlike anyone else’s.

The meaning or interpretation that is obvious to you, may never occur to me. What I surmise may surprise you. And that is the gift.

This is what I hope to achieve. To encourage you to trust your gut. To follow your heart and express whatever it is that you feel.

The more you ponder, the more you will discover. You have all you need already.

Often, the thing I am most reluctant to acknowledge or express, is the thing that will be the most enlightening for me, and beneficial to others.

My weaknesses become my strengths when I embrace them.

The thing I am ashamed of can be the thing that enables you to say me too! I thought I was the only one.

I charge my creativity by reflecting. Meditating. By making sense of what I have felt. When I calm my mind, memories bubble up … I don’t know how else to describe it … from yesterday or my distant past.

I used to think it was too late. Too late to grieve whatever I thought I lost as a child. Too late to change long held beliefs.

Now I see I am still me. I am the child I was. I am the one who has allowed me to persevere, and not to quit.