A few weeks ago, I took my son for senior pictures. First, a sticky Wednesday night, overcast and warm, and we went to a manmade lake in the middle of a nice neighborhood and I stood back as he smiled under an evergreen, and beside a rustic wooden fence and on a wood-chip trail under tall, swaying trees.
Then, on the Saturday, we went to a studio in cahoots with the high school yearbook for his official senior portrait. It would be five minutes, and we weren’t ordering prints from there anyway, so we were in a goofy mood.
It’s a photo factory, of sorts. Seniors and their parents shuffle in, sit and smile and try not to blink in the bright flash. Pop music pumps from a speaker in the background. There are five or six backgrounds in little booths, and while we waited for the gray one that the photographer needed, she positioned Shaya on a white set and handed him a big wooden block with 2024 carved into it.
I was laughing. So cheesy! He leaned on a Roman column with the word SENIOR in all caps and held his graduation year in his hands.
And then my eyes brimmed with hot tears. I bit my tongue and swiped the corners of my eyes to force back the emotion. I didn’t want Shaya to see - this would be a year of tears, as my baby and my eldest son approached graduation (high school and college, respectively). “I’ll be crying all year,” I said, and he rolled his eyes.
After, we pushed out the door into the hot day and sidled next-door to the Boston Tea Room. It’s a cute hippie shop that used to be on the main street in Ferndale, but had relocated to this office park where it occupied three times as much space.
Meditation cushions and crystals and deity statues and incense. A whole section of books, candles and sage. A tea room at the back, and psychics by appointment.
August has been another month with tons of interruptions to my hopeful schedule. When I block off mornings to write and then one kid or another asks me to spend time with them or help them, I say yes, unequivocally yes, because being a mother is my priority and it won’t be long before they stop asking.
But I yearn to write. I hate to even say it - I don’t want them to think or believe that they are not important to me, my loves.
I sniffed the candles, looking for a soothing, unscented-scent. You know, the smooth wax or the faint vanilla or coconut-y of a candle. Nothing infused or strong.
Finally, I found a blue crystal glass filled with candle, and a crystal embedded in it. This one. I bought it and brought it to my writing desk. Shaya wanted a blanket for trail, and I bought sage for Eliana’s new apartment downtown.
It took a couple weeks, but finally, on a rain-spattered morning, the house was quiet and the kids were elsewhere, and I got back to writing. Went through feedback from critique partners to revise my next novel. Edited a new essay. Cleaned up the email.
It’s a start.
Opportunities to Write in Community!
Registration is now open for the Accountability Cohort, a weekly opportunity to commit to writing with the support of a vibrant community. Details and registration here. I may also be launching a cohort on Tuesdays from 5-6:30 p.m. ET. If that time interests you, let me know!
There are only three spots left for The Writers Community 2024! This intimate program provides guidance for improving your writing, honing your voice and receiving feedback from trusted peers. Apply here.
And don’t forget my FREE monthly Writealong! Next date is September 2nd. Would love to see you there.
August Book Giveaways
There’s just a few days left in August to become a paid subscriber! TODAY, paid subscribers are invited to a live Writing Coaching call at 1 p.m. ET. And, by Friday, I will select winners for TWO book giveaways this month - Bernard Cornwell’s The Empty Throne and e. lockhart’s We Were Liars.
Thanks for reading!
All love, Lynne