April is always a transformative month. Snow hopefully gives way to rain. Brown lawns and branches start to become dotted with green buds and shoots. Azaleas pop with purple blooms and Forsythia shout yellow streaks. Winter gear gets put away, mostly--since it often gets pulled out again at some point before May.

​Being a gardener, I need to hold myself back. Let the leaf litter lie. I suppose that could be some sort of wise, old adage, "Let the leaf litter lie." Sometimes what looks like a pile of leaves is really a mound of miracles all taking place beneath the surface. All sorts of insects are continuing their life cycle unbeknownst to us. Things that look absolutely done for--will start breaking through the surface in a month. It's crazy!!

This April, while it seemed that so much was coming to life around me in the natural world, there were many instances when things felt like they were coming to a close. And, I guess that makes sense. Life is a cycle. Things end and things begin--and, so often, things cannot begin until other things end. I won't go into all the examples of this in history.

For me, The Room to Write, the non-profit I founded 9 years ago, is coming to its end--of sorts. I suppose it's like that pile of leaves in spring and, really, all kinds of things could be coming to life beneath the surface. We just can't see it. The hope is that some of the programs we have brought to the community can live on in some form. 

My favorite event that became an annual highlight, though it took a pause after Covid--as so many things did, is the Young Writers and Illustrators Meet, Greet & Create event that we planned in collaboration with the Boys & Girls Club of Stoneham and Wakefield (now BGC Metro North). It was always so inspiringto give away so many wonderful, locally-written books to kids of all ages--toddlers to teens--and to offer youth an opportunity to meet the author of each book and feel good about liking to read or write or be creative! We hope that event continues into the future as well. 

The writers critique group coordination has already been passed on to Marc Olivere to keep going and I look forward to submitting to that more regularly when I have time to get back to some of my writing projects. The quarterly Writers and Illustrators Meet & Greets aren't likely to live on, but there are two neighboring writers' communities that have programming that can serve a similar purpose: FYACS's Writer's Studio in Melrose & Writers Collaborative Learning Center in Reading. 

Sometimes we just have to let go. We can't control what happens after that, but we can be hopeful. Sometimes things happen differently from our expectations, but that doesn't mean our efforts were wasted. ​Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher, is quoted as saying something along the lines of, “change is the only constant in life.” Ironically, this quote was found as a fragment of a book he wrote that was destroyed. And, it certainly has value and has lived on despite being only a piece of the complete work it was originally presented within. 

For now, The Room to Write's Board of Directors has decided to let the leaf litter lie for the rest of the year and so TRtW will slip into a sort of hibernation to be sure any new life still trying to emerge has a chance to do so. Whatever happens beyond that--I'll always be grateful for the community I found, the lessons I learned and the opportunity to unabashedly advocate for the art of writing!

I did something for myself! How lovely:)

Sometimes reading email can lead to something good. One wintery day, I got an email from the bottomless cup of local author Pam Vaughan. Just when you think she can't possibly have any more in her: more Pam Vaughn. She's amazing and also usually smiling--two great qualities!

So, thanks to Pam and her fellow volunteer Julia Boyce--the Whispering Pines Retreat found a new home this year at Endicott College in Beverly, MA, which so happens to be a hop-skip-and-a-jump from my house. How convenient! So, I signed up!

I had big plans to be ready and packed ahead of time, but as weeks usually go--I pushed off from my dock much later than expected. The sweet images of a full face-plant into a pillow upon arrival started to dissolve into the reality of hoping I got there before the whole thing was over. I arrived exhausted and wondering how I would string together even one coherent sentence. Check-in. Luggage lugging complete. I had a full 9 minutes before the itinerary was in full swing, so even though I have yet to be published--I slipped right into the role and did what any professional, published author would do upon arrival: face-plant! Eight and a half minutes of paranoid (like, I might actually fall into a deep sleep and miss everything, so I kept checking the time) face-plant felt so luxurious.

So, that there was too much information. I know. Sometimes that's how I waste all this precious brain space, so that when it comes time to remember a name, a location and something specific that may need recalling in the future--there's a bit of fog. Anyway, the Whispering Pines Writers Retreat was great! It was small enough to be manageable, and it was filled with people I wanted to follow up with forever after I left. I haven't quite gotten to that part yet, but I'm working on carving out some more time to do it. 

What a great weekend! Such talented participants to be immersed among along with some really great--and very fun--editors and agents who enlightened us with their industry knowledge and insightful honesty: Matt Phipps, Associate Editor, G.P. Putnam’s Sons|Penguin Young Readers; Marissa Brown, Associate Agent, Pippin Properties; Olivia Luchini, Assistant Editor, Penguin Workshop|PRH; Alexander Slater, Agent, Sanford J. Greenburger Associates; and ​Ariel Richardson, Senior Editor, Chronicle Books.
Now . . . I will clam up:)

The Room to Write and the Arts Collaborative of Wakefield teamed up for a second time in 2024 to bring words and art together in one exhibit. Writers don't often get the opportunity to publicly display their words on a wall as art, so TRtW jumped at the chance to be part of a second exhibit. The first time around, artists made art available, then writers selected a piece of art to inspire their words. This exhibit flipped the order and writers offered their writing for artists to select from as inspiration for creating their artwork.

A poem that I wrote this past summer, had the privilege of acting as inspiration for and being displayed alongside a piece of art by Kendall Inglese as part of the Arts Collaborative of Wakefield's October Exhibit & Sale: Elements: Earth, Water, Air, Fire. Of course, being the overachiever that I am--I wanted to weave all four of the elements into my poem, rather than pick just one, though I do love me some wind (aka: air:). Perhaps not picking just one element was to the poem's detriment? I'll let you decide.

Either way, my poem was inspired by the partial quote, "Where flowers bloom, so does hope." I am a passionate gardener and absolutely love that image, which is carved into a bird bath behind the summer cottage we stay in. That optimism was displayed by a lone Balloon Flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) bloom, pictured, that was showing off its purple hue for all to enjoy in an area where it was not planted and had no business surviving, let alone blooming.

The hope exuded by that singular flower so struck me that I took a photo and wrote a poem titled, "Where Flowers Bloom, So Does Hope." The writer and artist pairings from the October 2024 exhibit will begin posting to view on the North of Boston Writers Network blog in December 2024. The prior exhibit, "Tell Me a Story," pairings were featured on the NBWN blog from April to August 2024, if you'd like to look back at those. Read more about the October exhibit by clicking here.

Where Flowers Bloom
​by Colleen Getty

After the fire.
Flood waters retreat.
Embers cool.
Soil dries solid beneath feet.
Winds bring respite,
not fuel for flames.
Earth slowly shrinks and sleeps, but
world unrecognizable remains.
Give time.
Take heart.
The End
simply must precede
The Start.
Life insists on living
below the surface of
her skin, its shell, his eyes—that dirt.
A cell, an egg, the idea—one seed
can soothe our hurt.
Have patience.
Imagination.
Alpine Asters survive on the steepest slope,
And where flowers bloom
–so does hope.*

--This poem and artwork posted on the North of Boston Writers' Network blog, found here:
​Where Flowers Bloom by Colleen Getty, which served as inspiration for the art of Kendall Inglese | North of Boston Writers Network

* Quote from Lady Bird Johnson’s at the Annual Convention of the Associated Press Managing Editors Association, Oct. 1, 1965.
“When I go into the poorest neighborhoods, I look for the flash of color - a geranium in a coffee can, a window box set against the scaling side of a tenement, a border of roses struggling in a tiny patch of open ground. Where flowers bloom, so does hope - and hope is the precious, indispensable ingredient without which the war on poverty can never be won.”

Have I mentioned my belief that the key to happiness is low expectations?

So, adjust your expectations and you may just enjoy this poetry. For me, a polished piece of poetry has the potential to be something to fear from the writer's point of view--because I'm saying, "This is perfect! There is nothing more I can do with it, so don't bother to look. Just sit back and enjoy this symphony of sounds." [Chef's kiss into the air . . . mwuuaahhh]

It's so much less intimidating to open up my rough and tumble sketchbook (no, I don't often--ever?--sketch, unless doodling counts. But, taking a break from writing and making time for art of the more visual sense was the intent of the workshop where I received my sketchbook and, like that prized pair of jeans in the closet fitting a little too snugly, I am leaving the sketchbook open to the possibility of being sketched in at some point in the future.

Ok--the poems. That was what this blog post was all about before my sketchy sketchbook swooped in and distracted me, but I have to admit digressions are such fun! So--how did these unpolished poems come about? Well, long story short: this past summer: two adults three teens and a tween = 6, plus cat = 6.25, two weeks later: minus three, subtract another one unexpectedly = 2.25 (a mom, her boy & a cat:) = the ability to hear myself think. Combine this with a collaboration between The Room to Write and Arts Collaborative of Wakefield special art exhibit requiring 12 writers to pair with 12 artists + one summer slumber for all + deadline = 9 writers + me = 10.
So, I had to write. 

At one optimistic point, I told myself that I would write a poem a day. No big whoop! But, I also had a cottage to paint, a garden to rehab, an uncharacteristically angsty teen, and a boy to spend the tail end of summer with. I started with the poem that ended up being paired with a piece of art for the exhibit. Next day a revision of that first poem. Then two poems, rough and ready. Then two more poems with two different pens. That was a challenging day, which is reflected within the poems. The next day, one poem while life simplified. Five days in a row: nothing. I was too busy kayaking, bike riding, beaching, painting, reading and allowing my mind a rest. Then one last poem on the last day of vacation. And, as Pa Ingalls always said, "All's well that ends well." And it did. There was a lot to love about our family's summer vacation, but that last week was a slice of serenity that was something to be savored.

Wow, I did it. 
Yeah, I know I wasn't going to mention my cheating ways in the next post, but this is where criminals go wrong: 
They boast!
I just published my cheatin' post and it has a date in June. Mooo--hahaha. Tech isn't so bad after all.
It lets us pretend we were somewhere we never were.
Wait a minute?! That's bad.
Ok--so tech is as bad as I suspected all along.

This makes me wonder:
Why don't I just post on time?
Clearly there's no magic here. I just talk to you, and you listen, and I don't allow comments, so you don't talk back. 
It all works out.
Why the delay in my monthly commitment?
I don't know.

That's something for me to think about. Figure out. Iron out.
Why do I think this is hard? I think that's a writer thing. We see writing as work and perhaps that's why social media is so prolific (and side note: toxic:) because there is no filter, no editing, no holding back.
It seems everybody wants to be a writer. And everybody wants to be famous.
So--perhaps social media offers up what everybody seems to want whether they should be given a platform to write or be famous at all. They are able.

And now, there's AI. But, really--there will always be unique stories created by humans.
So don't just spill yours away on social media. 
Sit down. Write it out. Think about it. Edit it. Control your own story and don't let people just pull you apart online.
Let your words sit and settle within each reader in their space--
not while they're standing on a subway and looking for ways not to look at the person across from them.
Your story is meant to be digested by someone who is prepared to sit down--napkin on knee--and take it in.
Respect yourself and your story.
It's all each of us has.

This morning I woke up tired. Exhausted. 
For good reason. My family and I were out at a Red Sox game last night. It was one of those days that didn't start out looking like it would be a nice night to watch a ballgame, but it ended up being pitch perfect weather. And, despite not knowing most of the basics about baseball--like rules, jargon, who the players are, stats and such--I really enjoy a game at Fenway Park in my favorite city of Boston! 

The walk-out songs for the players and the intermittent song samples in between plays gives me reason to dance in my seat and feel like I'm out at a dance club and yet . . . I'm sitting (haha:) and the songs don't last long so there's no getting sick of one particular song or sweating on the dance floor. 

Oh--and there's a ball game going on and depending on how good it is, you can tune in or out of it at will. The peddlers are walking around with various snacks and drinks balanced on their heads. I LOVE THAT!! In the midst of the world's attempt to make everything electronic--super annoying--Fenway Park insists on clinging to some of that traditional human element that really makes it a creature all its own. And it feels so alive in there. People getting in and out of seats at all times, peddlers crawling around the aisles hoisting over their heads: hotdogs, lemonade, chowder, popcorn, beer, pizza, cotton candy and whatever else they think fans might want. The hotdog guy is most impressive with that heavy, metal container of steaming dogs and rolls safely outside the vat so they don't get soggy. 
$7 will get you a dog in a fresh bun, wrapped and with one packet of mustard.
Not much to pay for nostalgic-and-nitrate-filled magic from my husband's youth delivered to his seat:)

I can't claim to be a baseball fan, but I am definitely a Fenway Park fan. The energy is an automatic mood lifter. Participating in the wave and singing Sweet Caroline off key is something you have to experience. Even the construction of the building, with its cement and steel painted green, feels so real as you walk around and you're inside and outside at the same time--inside a city and yet outside of it, too. I love it!

So, now.
It's May 31st.
I'm tired.
It's Friday.
I want to have a nice cup of tea and write in my journal.
​--to not really think or have to make sense quite yet.
But, wait!!
I finished the journal I was writing in yesterday morning.
I'm pretty sure I bought several journals last time I purchased one.
I even found the website for my favorite journal company, Studio Oh!, and got them delivered to my house.
So. Where. Are they? Even. Just. One?
No.
​I'm out of journals.
Like someone who craves coffee or something sweet in the evening. I'm searching around unconvinced I can't have a single journal ready to call into action. Coffee and chocolate lovers? You know what I'm talking about as you open cabinets, refrigerator doors, check your favorite stashing locations telling herself there has to be one coffee's worth of grounds . . . one forgotten piece of chocolate--SOMEWHERE!!
And after looking at the same locations you already looked you realize there is none.

I have already cued up several journals online to be delivered, but not this morning. Not today.
So, what does a girl who needs a journal like a morning cup of coffee do?
Well, I look at the list of "to do"s that I did not want to do and decide to do them. Ugh!
The good news is that this is the second thing on my list and now it's done.
And was that so hard? No. Did I even enjoy it? Yes.
So, why do I procrastinate doing it every month until the last day of the month?
I don't know that I have a good answer for that. I think it's just easier, safer to write in my journal and know that it is only for me. Spelling mistakes are not an issue. Substituting the wrong word is obsolete--and my least favorite writing mistake: not adding "not" before a word so that the meaning of the sentence is actually the opposite of what I meant to write. Fictional example to give you an idea of what I mean: "I do not like bunnies." becomes "I do like bunnies."
(Sorry bunny fans. I currently do not like bunnies since they eat everything in my garden down to the nub.)

Here is my blog for May. Is it amazing? Let's say, sure:)
It's a blog. My thoughts as I think them.
A concept that is simple but not always easy.
Musings I usually capture in my journals.
Go get yourself a journal.
​It will pair perfectly with your cup of tea or coffee
​--or that hidden piece of chocolate!

April was such a busy month! Everything that was usually quarterly and staggered so that each quarterly happening doesn't fall within the same month--all fell on the same month: April.

I'm still trying to catch my breath. Something I'm so glad I said "yes" to was the collaboration between The Room to Write, the non-profit that I founded and direct, and the Arts Collaborative of Wakefield, a local arts organization. So, in addition to all the quarterly things, TRtW also had a month of art programming to plan, get the word out about, and carry out. Artists and Writers featured together. Yay!

I always say how nobody goes out to a gallery to look at 8x11 white pieces of paper with words on them, but this time they did because the pieces of writing were accompanied by colorful, unique art. The writing was also colorful and unique in its language and format, but it helps to have some eye candy to draw a reader into words on a wall.

There were so many other things that happened--regular programming at the Senior Centers--a great lineup ending with Stephen Puleo this afternoon--as well as two local author interviews at WCAT Studios and the usual critique group meetings: Multi-genre, Kid Lit and the Senior Group. There was a board meeting, a Writers and Illustrators Meet & Greet as well as six local authors visiting the art exhibit to read the books they authored aloud to kids and parents, there were exhibit evenings and afternoons and various discussions here, there and seemingly everywhere. More about that and photos can be found here:)

May is usually very busy, but I think compared to April it may be calmer. I'm looking forward to that. After spending three and a half hours of one day this month trying to bunny-proof my back yard by blocking all entrances, I am looking forward to some uninterrupted garden time. And some Z-zz-z-z--z-z-z-z-z-zzzzzzzzzzz . . . 

The Big Apple! Normally, I am a big fan of apples--I even have two apple trees.
​
I saw the email come across my computer in the fall and thought, "Maybe I'll do it. I'll hop on a train and head out to New York City to the Society for Children's Book Writers and Illustrators winter conference taking place the second weekend of February. After all, it's February. Dark. Cold. A good time to shake things up.

Part of it felt like a good excuse to get some alone time and focus on my writing. Another part of me was wondering what it was like to attend a writing conference solely as a participant since for the last several years I have been a volunteer at the New England SCBWI Spring Conference either as a Manuscript Critique Coordinator or more recently as a Volunteer Coordinator since there were no Manuscript Critiques at last spring's conference. And then, there was the fact that there was no conference, altogether, planned for New England in 2024. 

That left New York to seem like something worth trying!
Even if only for one year. And after this conference?
Yes, one year was all I need.

I have to admit that just sitting on a train for four hours, alone and in the designated Quiet Car sounded like a rare luxury that I looked forward to, and even though I may not be eager to attend another NY conference any time soon, I am glad I went, but it was a steep and pricey learning curve.

First lesson, when they say "coffee" from 7-8am on the first day of the conference before the welcome, they mean just coffee, and tea, and you're lucky if even just that holds out for the full hour. Luckily, I drink tea because they ran out of coffee that first day before 8am. Those of us used to the New England conference where there's fruit, bagels, muffins and pastries available had to rush down to buy an overpriced muffin three floors down at the hotel's grab'n'go store. Oh, right, conference participants got 15% off their purchases, though you couldn't make use of that if you arrived before Saturday because you needed your name badge to get the discount. The vendor assured me that there was actually something for free: the receipt. At least he had a sense of humor:) Luckily I do, too.

I was happy to run into Federico Erebia, an author I knew from back "home," who I had met because he was one of the volunteers at the New England conference. It was so nice to see a familiar face. Another unexpected face? A gal I graduated with from high school, Andrea Keyo, who happened to sit next to me at a workshop. What are the odds??!! It was so great to see her--she was one of the high school friends that I never saw outside of school but we had a lot of fun in our library study block. She had done a pivot from lawyering to writing and NY was her first conference.

One thing to know when you go to a conference is that there is a lot of stuff in a very little amount of time, so you will leave absolutely exhausted. Even a supposed "veteran" like me was ready for a one-month hibernation after my trip to NY. I really enjoyed the speakers and the workshops. I feel like I took some great tips away, but honestly it was the personal stuff that helped me justify the cost and time. My two run-ins with familiar faces were highlights along with a planned run-in with a friend I had met while spending a semester in Ireland for college and that I had not seen in, I think we did the math, 18 years!

It ended up that she was only available on Saturday night, which was when the networking events were happening as part of the conference. But, honestly, I was so exhausted by Saturday night that I was really looking forward to easy conversation with an old friend more than having to put forth the brain power that would be required to network and make connections with strangers--even those I had the commonality of writing with. So, it was like a mental vacation to meet up with my old pal Lisa and catch each other up on the last almost-two-decades of our lives. We had a great burger and some beers and even--like the old Irish Catholic ladies we are--took time out to duck into St. Patrick's Cathedral to light a candle and say a prayer for a couple of sick people in our lives.
Seeing Lisa? "The" highlight!:)
​As with so many things in life: it's the human connection that makes the difference.

So, I had some fun! Was it because of the conference?
No.
Actually, I think the conference was exhausting and frustrating with how expensive it was, how cumbersome it felt at times, how little it offered for the price, and how it seemed they wasted opportunities, like when people flooded the ballroom to look at portfolios on Friday night. The ample space in the room was not well used. The portfolios were all crammed on a few tables so that everybody was looking over shoulders as someone else turned the pages of a portfolio. Only an hour and a half was allotted to that event, which was definitely not enough time to look at portfolios, let alone reconnect and try to network with people we hadn't seen in a year or wanted to get to know at the same time. It was practically over before it began. Perhaps scheduling the networking events for Friday night, when people were charged up and had energy, would have been better than sticking networking at the end of a long Saturday. 

That's my honest reflection. Between the train ride, the hotel cost, the cost of the actual conference (and that doesn't count if you paid extra for a critique, which I did not) and then food--it's really, really expensive if the only reason you're there is to attend the conference. But--luckily I connected with an old friend, I ran into another, and I got free tickets to sit in the studio audience of Stephen Colbert's The Late Show where I was fortunate enough to see Stephen Colbert, but also his two guests that night: Billy Joel and Ryan Gosling. Yes, Ken! My teenage daughters were very jealous!

Was there a robbery and a shooting where a Brazilian tourist got injured while I was watching Ryan Gosling present a mink fur coat to Stephan Colbert? Yes. Did I walk out unaware of the manhunt going on only blocks away? Sure. I guess that's par for the course in NY.

I like to walk and so I made good use of my Friday covering miles of New York: Central Park, Madison Ave, 5th Ave, the Empire State Building and Times Square (where the prior night's shooting took place). I asked the door man at the Empire State Building for a good place for lunch. My hot tip: The Playwright's Tavern! Besides the receipt, it was the one thing I got "free" in NY. Any beverage with lunch was free and of course I maximized the value by ordering a beer--the house ale (or lager? I can't remember, but it was good--even if it wasn't free:).

There was something so exhilarating about walking as far as I wanted in whatever direction I wanted for as long as I wanted without any teenagers complaining about how long we'd been walking, getting hungry or wondering, "Why are we going this way?" What I needed more than a conference, was some freedom. You need that every now and then.

So, am I glad I went?
Yes.
Will I go next year?
No.
But, like carrot cake is sometimes just a way to get the cream cheese frosting, a little professional development can be a good way to get out into the world, connect with friends expected and unexpected, and to travel and see the world beyond your front yard. Also, it served as a good dry run for the DC trip my family was planning to take the following week--also on the same train.:)

One thing that can be a struggle for many of us--writers, artists or not--is making connections, building community and forcing ourselves to be social. Despite the unpredictable weather, Wakefield's Festival by the Lake on Saturday, June 10, 2023 provided a wonderfully casual way to do just that and connect the good old-fashioned way: face to face. 

In my capacity as director of The Room to Write, I like to think of the festival as a big party that presents a wonderful opportunity to introduce our nonprofit to the public, answer questions, and a great way to find out what the community needs from our organization in terms of programming and support for writers of all ages and all levels.

This year we were fortunate to have four local authors as guests in our tent available to talk to, purchase books from and to have books signed. Each author sees book events as more than just an opportunity to sell books. It's a chance to be social, to connect with their audience and to meet author creative people looking for community.