Back from France! Part 1

Entry courtyard, Le Vieux Couvent (LVC), Frayssinet.

Back home from France! Too soon, too quick, too much to write about. It was an amazing trip, even if some days seemed as if there was too much food (impossible to believe, I know), too much to see (all awe-inspiring), and far too many angsty-hours waiting for my suitcase . . . Air Canada managed to misplace my luggage (with many of the required art supplies I listed in my last post) for a whole nine days. However, thanks to the emergency wardrobe my LVC hosts had on hand because "this sort of thing happens all the time," I easily survived, and with an unexpected bonus when I returned to Albuquerque:

The "secret" path from my room to the art studio.

The easiest unpacking of my life: everything went right back into my closet. No laundry!

One of the many LVC gathering areas.

Which then gave me extra time to think and write about all the quirky, unexpected, and quite wonderful things that happened. There are so many of them that I've decided to write two posts: one on my top 12 happy memories, and a second post next week about the art side of the retreat. So here goes: 

The back road to the church and convent buildings.

1. Meeting the rest of the tour group. It was such a pleasure to meet up again with people I had known from an earlier trip to Taiwan, but equally special was meeting so many new friends. Our backgrounds were as varied as the many places we came from, and I absolutely loved listening to the different voices and accompanying accents around the dining table. So much so that I often caught myself saying odd phrases like, "Bonjour, y'alls," or thanking people with "gracias" rather than "merci" whenever we were out and about. Hopefully the French thought I was just one more crazy American and didn't give any of it a second thought.

 

2. Splash Ink Lessons. As I mentioned, next week I'll be posting about the art that came out of the retreat, but before that I want to say a huge thank-you to Ming Franz for making the trip possible. It wasn't easy organizing all of our tickets, rooms, individual requests, or bringing the vast amounts of paint and paper we needed every day. Without Ming, there wouldn't have been a trip and I can't imagine any of it without her.

 

Adventures in splash ink: Thank you, Ming!

 

3. My room. I felt incredibly fortunate (and a bit guilty) to have one of the best rooms in the house. It was so nice we called it "The Princess Room." What no-one realized though is that if you're going to live like a princess, you have to walk like one. If I fell over the ledge dividing my room from the doorway once, I fell one thousand times. I simply couldn't see where the ledge ended and the floor began. Eventually I got the hang of it: there is a drop--think before you fly, and I learned to hold onto the door frame before stepping into space. Awkward but life-saving.

 

Le Ledge of Death.

 

Le Princess Bed Extraordinaire.

4. Furniture Shopping in Collonges-les-Rouges.

One of my most unforgettable days was a morning spent helping one of my travel companions shop for patio furniture in the village of Collonges-les-Rouges--far more interesting than wandering around reading historical plaques: "built in 1564 . . ." Except halfway through sales negotiations, re: shipping details and what color chair cushions to choose, I suddenly DID notice a plaque. And not just one--an entire roomful straight from Albuquerque, NM. In the front of the store every wall was plastered with metal plaques and New Mexico license plates featuring Route 66 and the joys of riding a Harley down the highway. I was speechless until I was able to tell the shop owner that I and several other members of our group were from Albuquerque, leaving him as stunned as I was. He then led us outside to show where he was cooking lunch on one of the Mexican clay stoves he sold--the type of ubiquitous clay fireplace found in almost every backyard here at home. I still feel as if I were in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

 

Everything in this village was made from red sandstone.

Except for the clay stoves from New Mexico.

 

5. Kitty Boy (or at least that's what I called him). Although there were several cats on the premises (with strict instructions they were not allowed into our rooms), I've always been a push-over for gingers. Despite the language barrier (I'm assuming the resident cats only spoke French) this chaton was happy to sit on my lap and be smothered with affection whenever possible. On our last morning I just had to know what his real name was (Pierre? Jean-Luc?) but no one could tell me because it turned out he didn't actually live there--what a little cad! He'd only been visiting for the treats and attention.

 

What's for lunch? I hope it's not foie gras AGAIN . . .

I'm ready for my close-up, Monsieur Rousseau . . .

 

6. The "school bus." Which took me forever to understand was really, really for tiny school children. I'm sure I wasn't alone in thinking when we were first told a school bus would be picking us up from the airport that a school bus meant, well, a big yellow school bus. So when I saw the small white van that was to be our ride for the rest of the trip, I didn't understand. I became even more confused when I took my seat; it was so tight. Surely I hadn't eaten that much on the plane. All I could think was, "Gosh, the French are skinny. What's wrong with them?" Finally one afternoon after sitting in my usual sideways position receiving numerous bruises to my rib cage and kneecaps I saw the yellow triangle on the windshield warning oncoming traffic of les enfants on board. The other drivers must have been astonished to watch us full-grown adults tumble out when we reached our destinations.

Skinny little road just right for our skinny little bus.

Side street in Cahors too skinny even for us.

 

7. Les Picnics. The food was exactly as you would imagine French cuisine to be: first-class. Servings and courses were numerous. Wine in abundance. Presentation, beautiful. I ate every bite, usually while promising myself I would never eat again. And then dessert would arrive and my plans would mysteriously change. But despite all the country charm of the LVC dining room, my favorite meals were the outdoor picnics under the trees and with no mosquitos--ever. (Flies, yes, but they were a pretty gold color and didn't bite.)

 

One of my favorite picnic sites: the Water Gardens, Perigord.

 

8. Chaud Chocolat on a rainy day. Our visit to the mountain-high village of Saint-Cirq Lapopie was one of the days lunch wasn't provided by LVC. It was also a day when we were told families ate out and it might be difficult to get a seat at a restaurant. None of this meant anything to me because this was the day I planned to skip lunch. Instead, I went shopping for new clothes as by now I had given up on ever seeing my suitcase again. The streets were steeper than steep and we had been warned that "if you go down, remember you have to climb up." Things worsened as it began to rain. Yet up and down the cobblestones I went, my shopping bags becoming increasingly soggy with every step until I had nowhere to go but to a cafe. By this time I was also longing for not coffee, but my preferred chaud chocolat. To my dismay, when I entered the only restaurant I could find all the tables had "reserved" signs on them. Within seconds, however, no problem--a waiter took me to the best table overlooking the best view, removed the reserved card, sat me down and insisted I stay as long as I wanted. The chocolat was steaming hot and even came with a package of biscuits. Sitting there watching the rain fall and feeling so peaceful is something I will always remember.

 

Rainy day, Saint-Cirq Lapopie.

One shop wouldn't let me leave until they demonstrated how to style my new dress three ways. Only in France.

9. Before I bought clothes though, I bought a berry bowl.

I've always wanted a berry bowl and this one with a matching plate was obviously waiting for me. Handmade in Toulouse out of glazed terra cotta, I've been using it every day--not just for berries, but cherry tomatoes, rinsing spinach or draining a serving of pasta--it's a keeper!

10. Rocamadour and the Black Madonna. Prior to leaving Albuquerque I didn't pay very much attention to what our daily itinerary would be. Part of me wanted it to be a surprise, another was too busy collecting "12 plastic spoons" etc., etc. Visiting Rocamadour and the Black Madonna was the last thing I ever thought we would be doing, so it came as a genuine gift when we went there for the day. Black Madonnas have always been important to me, with a visit to Montserrat being one of the highlights of my life. As soon as I got home from this last trip I couldn't wait to re-read the memoir written by my friend Elaine Soto, My Journey to the Black Madonna. In her book she includes a chapter describing her own visit to Rocamadour illustrated with her artwork. Reading this section again added an entirely new, and shared, dimension to my feelings about being there.

Somehow I walked from top to bottom.

The main street at last.

11. Les Milandes. Another surprise was going to Josephine Baker's home, Les Milandes. You can't go to Europe and not visit a castle and this one was definitely worth seeing, especially as it had on display a full array of costumes (the banana skirt!), photographs, and furniture. The woman in the gift shop issuing tickets was impressed with the way we said "caaa-stle" as opposed to her British-inflected "cah-stle." "We wanna see the caaa-stle!" "Oh, I do like way you say 'caaa-stle,'" she said. "It's so much more . . ." Here she paused. As I was in a hurry to get inside the caaa-stle--no dilly-dallying for me--I suggested: "Jazzier?" "Voila! That's it! It's much more jazzier! Oh, I do like that too!" Always happy to help.

Les Milandes; Josephine Baker's home.

12. The Caves at Pech Merle. Were cold and drizzly and one of the most interesting--and moving--places I have ever been to. The wall art dates back 29,000 years and from the minute I entered all I could think about was how much I miss working in clay (temporarily on hold until I have a studio again). From early childhood when I was given a book on Neanderthal and Cro-Magnum cultures for Christmas I've been hooked on clay beads, bison and woolly mammoth figurines, and especially wall paintings made on damp earth and rock. Walking underground and seeing these creations was, without exaggeration, a dream come true.

 

No photography allowed so I "borrowed" from the website.

13. And one more: Swimming lessons. The two items I most wanted from my missing suitcase were my flip-flops and my bathing suit. Every day I would pass either one of the two pools and wish I could go swimming. On the day my case finally arrived it was late and nearly time for drinks and dinner but when I saw the sun sparkling on the water, I knew if I didn't take the opportunity to swim I would regret it for the rest of my life. Within minutes I was ready to go. What I had completely forgotten, though, was that I hadn't been in a pool for close to ten years. Worse yet, this particular pool was shaped like a soup bowl with rounded walls; no stairs or railings. Regardless, I thought I could just walk in (how hard could it be?) when of course I promptly lost my footing and fell ingloriously into the deep end. At the same time I immediately realized I had forgotten how to swim. Oh, great, I thought. I get my suitcase at last and now I drown. After a few micro-seconds of near-panic instinct suddenly kicked in and I found myself floating on my back, looking into the beautiful sky and thinking how perfect the whole trip had been. Just float, I told myself. Just float. And so I did.

Next post: It's all about the art! See you soon.
 

Art Retreat in France: Packing My Supplies

 

Just a few more days and then I'm off to France! My first holiday in three years: Le Vieux Couvent and a splash ink class with my friend and art teacher, Ming Franz. Along with 15 other splash ink enthusiasts, I will be gone for two weeks, ending with a final day and night in Toulouse before our flight home.

I've wanted to take a workshop at Le Vieux Couvent ever since I first heard about it in a Domestika class during the pandemic. The course instructor posted on his website that if and when the travel restrictions were lifted, he would be teaching his next workshop there. I remember thinking about how much fun a trip like that would be and how much I wanted to go. Unfortunately, I never got there--until now when Ming told me she was teaching a class in that very spot and I couldn't wait to sign up.

And as excited as I am to finally be going to Le Vieux, there remains a certain bittersweet element to the timing. Back during Covid when I was daydreaming about painting mini-masterpieces close to Cathar country (I'm obsessed with Cathar history), my husband was still alive making great plans of his own. He thought it would be an amazing opportunity to accompany me on the trip not as an art student, but to go vintage car hunting. He had heard of a local car rental company hiring out vintage vehicles and couldn't make up his mind whether we would rent a Lamborghini or just a plain old MGB for touring the Dordogne when my workshop finished. The idea was that while we were out driving, we'd be looking for a vintage auto or motorcycle to buy and bring home for restoration. It was a wonderful plan. Except you know what they say about plans.

Obviously, things didn't work out so well. Instead of packing for two and wondering if I'd be needing a headscarf in case we ended up in a convertible, I'm doing my best to prepare for my first solo attempt at "I-can-do-it travel" without having a non-stop panic attack. To keep myself as distracted as possible, I've been concentrating on accumulating travel art supplies--both the required ones for the course and a complement of fun items for my own daily sketching.

Splash ink, or po-mo to use the correct Chinese term, requires some heavy-duty accoutrements: large sheets of mulberry paper, trays to place the paper in, jars and jars of liquid watercolor and sumi ink, and a wide variety of additional bits and pieces not that easy to travel with. Thankfully Ming will be bringing the paper and paints, but to help lighten the load we've all been asked to bring the following items for individual studio use:

• 12 plastic spoons
• 12 plastic cups
• 1 roll of Frog tape
• 1 apron
• 1 pair of rubber gloves
• plastic wrap
• 1 hake brush
• 4 watercolor brushes, flats and rounds
• 1 mixing palette 
• 1 spray bottle
  

Also required is a roll of heavy duty foil. Again, thankfully, another participant has offered to bring a roll to share with me, and I am very grateful!

So now that I have that all done, my next step is choosing the sketching supplies for my personal use outside of the class, and believe me, choosing the "right stuff" has not been easy. I have dithered and re-thought and changed my mind so many times (including the middle of the night when I jumped out of bed to add yet one more perfect pencil to the pile) I am sure one of my conclusions was to "not bring anything at all." However, I think I have finally settled on my will-not-change kit and this is it:

• A tiny tray of Daniel Smith watercolors. The set I have here began life as the DS urban "Sketcher Set" created by artist Liz Steel of only six colors, but since buying it I have added some personal favorites, including Buff Titanium and Undersea Green. 
  
• A Hannemuhle concertina watercolor sketchbook. I bought this particular sketchbook at Christmas to start a series of "Bunny in the Snow" paintings that morphed into "Bunny Goes Wild" drawings in a completely different sketchbook I won't be taking with me. (The story of my life.) The reason I chose to bring the concertina book on this trip was a) it's very lightweight, and b) I thought it would be fun to experiment with a continuous sketch that filled a single book from front to back, cover to cover, and c) it was just sitting there on the shelf, so why not? Use it or lose it.
  
• A pad of high-quality bright white drawing paper made by Peter Pauper Press. This will be for some "Bunny in France" (or any other animals I may encounter) thumbnail sketches.
  
• 3 waterbrushes: 2 flats, 1 round. Tip for traveling with waterbrushes: do not fill with water until you arrive at your destination, and keep the brush section very loosely attached to the barrel while you travel. If you tighten the sections together too strongly, the compression in the plane can lock everything up and prevent you from taking the brush apart to fill with water when you're ready to do so. Which means you will break it, like I did on a previous flight.
  
• 1 woodless pencil made in Italy that is the most expensive pencil I have ever bought in my life (and it was even at a discounted price). But it is beautiful, doesn't roll off the table, and is the best bunny drawing pencil money can buy. 
• 1 Bic #7 mechanical pencil for detail drawing.
  
• 1 thick lead sketching pencil for shading and because I bought it on a trip to the Metropolitan Museum in New York years ago it carries happy memories. (I bought a few of them in case you were wondering how one pencil could last so long.)
  
• 1 Koh-i-noor Magic pencil. These pencils are indeed magic. Several shades of color all combined into one lead, they are super fun to use whenever you want to quickly add some color to any kind of sketch.
  
• 1 gray shading flexible fiber tip pen. (Confession: I don't really like this pen, but it seemed a good opportunity to use it up and toss it before I go home. My hope is that I will actually grow to like it and discover all kinds of interesting uses for it. Maybe.)
  
• 2 #8 black Gelly pens. I love these pens in all their colors, but black seemed the most sensible for this trip. I am bringing two so that I have one for writing as well as drawing.
  
• 1 double-hole pencil sharpener so that I can sharpen both my large and regular-size pencils.
  
• 1 black eraser. I try not to use an eraser but sometimes they are a life-saver. Black erasers are my favorites.
  
• 1 glue stick. Besides being handy for pasting ticket stubs, fortune cookie wisdom, and any other strange little bits of ephemera inside my sketchbook, the ability to collage or simply paste a clean piece of paper over a failed sketch is one of life's great creative miracles.
  
•  2 binder clips to hold my sketchbook flat.
  
• 1 six-inch plastic ruler to help with my terrible sense of perspective as well as possibly helping me to draw straight lines. (Or that's the hope at any rate.)
  
• 1 zippered pouch (made from recycled soda bottles) declaring my eternal love for cats. The pouch is small but big enough to hold absolutely everything other than the sketchbook and pad.

Because I will also be writing as well as painting, I'll have this cute Moleskine cachet journal handy featuring a Van Gogh sunflower study on the cover. A friend recently brought it home from Europe for me and it's a great reminder to stay loose, stay happy, and stay creative every day! (Thank you, Sue!)

 

Tip of the Day: Seize the day. Go for it. Just do it. Yes--and all the other clichés you can think of. They're true. They're real. They're the best advice ever. So what are you waiting for? Whether it's starting your novel, buying your first sketchbook, or wanting to travel to Siberia--take the leap, because . . . if not now, when?

Happy 2025; My Year to Go Forward

© Creative Commons Zero / Dreamstime.com

 

Happy 2025! Happy-to-be-back-blogging-again! Happy just to be here at all! 

2024 wasn't exactly a stellar year for this blog; three whole posts for an entire twelve months due to lengthy eye surgery and subsequent recuperation. I couldn't see, so I couldn't write. (Or read very much, for that matter, either.)

But that didn't mean the year was lost, or solely centered on measuring out eye drops. Before I was totally out of action, I did get a lot done, including:

• Upgrading my website to now sell my jewelry and artwork.
• Completing the 100-Day Project. Some of the pieces from the project can now be purchased at my site.
  
• Going on numerous local adventures with my wonderful friends. Favorite trips were visiting Albuquerque's Turquoise Museum and afternoon tea at The St. James Tea Room.
  
• Finding some great books, the best being The Riders and Dirt Music, both by Australian author, Tim Winton.
• Discovered graphite watercolors--an amazing product I can't imagine how I ever lived without. Prior to finding them by chance on a YouTube channel, I had used water-soluble graphite pencils, but watercolors mixed with graphite in pans? Never. I'll be writing more about why I'm such a fan in my next post.
  
• Finished, edited, and polished both the final draft of my novel, Writing a Ghazal by Moonlight and my novella The Seaweed Collector. (At last. The End.)
• Created a series of illustrations for The Seaweed Collector.
• Walked (almost) every day as best I could.
  
• And finally the big one: I signed up for a 2025 art trip to France. Yes, I did. I will be staying in a former sixteenth-century convent-turned-art-retreat just outside of Toulouse for a new splash ink class taught by my friend and art teacher, Ming Franz.
  

While the trip to France might sound like the most exciting thing I have to look forward to, I do have some other equally important plans, starting with:

• Spend more time on market research and manuscript submission. Whether it's seeking out agents and editors for my yet-to-be-published manuscripts, or increasing exposure for my existing books, artwork, and jewelry, I want to up my marketing by assigning a daily time slot dedicated to business.
  
• Organize and polish my many short stories into a series of three anthologies.
• Finish my dystopian novella work-in-progress.
• Draft out and sketch two new picture book ideas: (Hint: they involve furry little animals wearing clothes.)
  
• Revive this blog and get back to a better posting schedule.
• Re-arrange and streamline my apartment to become a more functional art studio. For a long time I've been looking for an art studio to rent when it hit me: I have walls, I have space, I have good light--and far too much furniture. As soon as I return from France I'll be changing, well, everything.
  

In the same way that I like to list my past highlights and future goals, I also like to choose a word for the year, and this year the word is: Courage. And I must say, I can't think of anything scarier.

However, given that 2025 is the Year of the Snake (I HATE SNAKES!) I'm going to try my best to look 'em in the face, even pick one or two up by the tails, and hey, you never know. I might just make friends with a couple. So here I go: new year, new me, new vision. I hope you will find an equally inspiring, if not challenging, word for your own great year ahead.

Tip of the Day: Pick one thing that frightens you the most about creativity (and we all have at least one). Write it down, and then ask yourself why you're so afraid. It could be as simple as "fear of failure," or, "There's too much to learn. I'll never manage it all." Or, "Editors are so mean. Rejection makes me feel worthless."

One of the reasons I have always feared snakes is that my father was from New Zealand where there are no snakes. I was raised with terrible phobias because any kind of snake was considered a potentially deadly foe; no thought was ever given to non-venomous varieties or how helpful snakes can be maintaining their environment. 

Creativity can be just as frightening when we don't know what we're doing, or why we want to do it. This year, make a commitment to conquer that fear by learning as much as you can about whatever is calling you. You'll be surprised at how harmless it can be! 

Los Caminos de la Vida

The paths of life

are not what I used to hope

are not what I used to believe

are not what I used to imagine

 

The paths of life

are very hard to travel

they are hard to walk

and I can´t find a way out

https://lyricstranslate.com

Los Caminos de la Vida

The paths of life,

They are not what I used to think,

They are not what I used to imagine

They are not what I used to believe.

The paths of life,

They are very hard to walk,

They are very hard to travel,

And I can't find a way out. 

 

I hope I am not as desolate as these song lyrics imply, but I have to admit to feeling somewhat lost without my husband. Nothing in my past prepared me for the road of grief and loss; no one ever told me it would be so hard. But that doesn't mean I'm entirely without direction or hope, or that I can't "find a way out."

One of the things helping me to find a way both in- and outward has been my return to reading. Not being able to read during the initial stages of grief is apparently quite common, so finding myself once again enjoying a book has been a huge relief. At the top of my "that was so good!" list is a book recently published by my friend and former writing group member, Suzanne Blazier. In September of 2019, only months before we were all hit by the pandemic, Sue did something I had often dreamed of doing but never had the nerve to try: she walked the Camino Francés, the historic pilgrimage route from  St. John Pied-de-Port, France to Santiago de Campostela in Spain and then on to the Spanish coastal town of Finesterre. 

It was a very long trip. And far more difficult than I realized until I read the full manuscript. From nearly-impassable trails of sharp, jagged rocks to battling constant rain and catching a debilitating cold, it's a miracle Sue came home in one piece at all. Yet, regardless of her challenges (maybe because of them?), Sue managed to find a wealth of beauty and meaning along the way, moments she made time to write about in her insightful journal that eventually became Prancing in the Pyrénées, Sloshing Through Galicia; My Way Along the Camino Francés.

I don't want to give away too much of the story, because I hope you will read Prancing in the Pyrénées for yourself, but I do want to say how much I love this book, and for reasons that have nothing to do with me ever walking the Camino. 

The first time Sue's story inspired me was while her book was still in manuscript form. It was smack in the middle of the pandemic restrictions. All of my writing and art groups had closed down and the only activity open to me was endless walking, something I mentioned in my last post on Urban Writing. Back then I suppose we were each in a separate state of shock, unsure of what was really going on. My "therapy" was to walk every day. Each morning when I would embark upon my solitary and lonely walks, I would imagine I was on the Camino, making a pilgrimage of some sort to understand what on earth was happening. Some days I would walk thinking of how the world could heal itself; other days I would walk in an attempt to figure out what I meant by "healing." Thinking of Sue's trip gave me a reason to walk beyond mere exercise.

Now that the pandemic is over and the manuscript draft is an actual hold-in-your-hands book, Sue's story continues to inspire me. I keep turning over what Sue achieved, thinking of how she did it and how to use the same motivations that kept her going forward. Chapter headings such as "Solitude," "Where are you from?" and "Re-entry" have made me think of how I, as well as other readers, could use these titles as journaling or writing prompts in our own lives. Some ideas that came to mind were:

1. Write a travel memoir of your own. This might seem a bit obvious, but if you focus on trips that were more than "just for fun," what significant journeys have you taken that were deeper than rest and relaxation? How were you changed by travel?

2. What do you need to travel with? What can you leave behind? Besides being an entertaining read, Prancing in the Pyrénées definitely has its practical side. Advice on topics from language skills to what items to bring or leave at home are invaluable tips for anyone seriously planning a Camino pilgrimage. As a dedicated minimalist, I was impressed with Sue's pared-down list of travel items, from clothing to toiletries. There are so many areas in our lives in which we carry too much: shelves of unused art supplies; books on a TBR pile that will never be read; photographs of distant events that mean little or nothing to us. What do we really need to carry, not just for survival, but to be happy?

3. Many years ago when I was still thinking about what it was I most wanted to write, I took take a class on travel writing. At the beginning of the class the instructor explained the origins of the word "travel," saying that it came  from the Old French word "travail" which in turn was a reference to weaving, describing the action of a shuttle carrying thread back and forth through other threads on a loom to create a piece of fabric. To my ears, "travail" was more closely related to "trouble" than travel, but I also have enough horror stories of my own to know how troublesome travel can be! In her book, Sue does an excellent job of sharing her travel-travails and how she overcame them, persevering to complete her trip in the best way possible. Have there been times in your life when you wanted to give up on a project, goal, or dream? What did you do to keep going? How did you encourage yourself? What roads or projects were you forced to abandon? Do you think of re-starting any them, and if so, how could you make that happen?

The Mexican poet and Nobel laureate, Octavio Paz, once wrote that reading is a pilgrimage. He believed that readers are forever changed by what they read, and in turn they cannot help but express that inner change to the world around them. I couldn't agree more. From Sue's book I've learned how vital it is to clear the road for those who follow, write the guidebooks for those need them, and to be as honest and open about our lives as we can be. Whether you plan to walk to Spain or sit reading in the sun with a cup of tea, Prancing in the Pyrénées will be the perfect travel companion.

Tip of the Day: As an additional resource, Sue has also created a blank Camino Journal for pilgrims to take notes and record their days. Although the book is designed for travelers, you might want to think about using it to journal from the prompts I've listed above. Use it to brainstorm your most memorable paths and journeys. What could you write about them? What did you bring home to share?

While you're writing, here is Los Caminos de la Vida in its entirety. It's a sad song, but like so much of life, strangely filled with comfort despite the darkness. That said, may your path be always safe and sure.

Introducing my Etsy Shop: Valerie Storey Designs

 

At last! I'm so happy to announce the opening 

of my Etsy Shop: 

Valerie Storey Designs

"Inspired by the past, created for today."

Earrings, bracelets, necklaces and pendants -- I have a brand! Everything is handmade by me, one-of-a-kind, never to be repeated and all with free USA shipping. 

Here's a small selection from the sixteen items I'm currently listing:

 

Although quite a few of the individual beads I've used were purchased right here in Albuquerque, many of them are from all over the world, collected during my travels to places such as Taiwan, Portugal, and Spain. I'm always looking for distinctive, unusual beads whenever possible, and often these are only available in very small quantities, guaranteeing that whatever I make from them will be one-time-only pieces.

Similar to the way I write and paint, my approach to beading depends a lot on the magic of randomness. I start with a handful of color (oh, how I love color!) and let the beads find their own way into a design often inspired by my many years spent visiting museums and galleries. Art history has always had a big influence in everything I do, inspiring my novels such as Overtaken and The Great Scarab Scam, but it's still a huge surprise to me to see how a piece will turn out: Egyptian, Etruscan Revival, mid-century modern: every bead tells a story!

One of the most surprising things to have come out of all this is my new appreciation for photography. Etsy requires a wide variety of product shots, and I have to admit the process was difficult for me to learn--I almost gave up at one point I found it so hard. But after several days of trial and error, I think I'm on the right track to figuring it all out: light boxes, satin drapery, as much daylight as possible . . . confusing at first, but like all creative endeavors, definitely worth pursuing.

Anyway, I hope you like my efforts and that you can visit my shop in time for the holidays! Over the coming weeks I'll be listing new items, so please stay tuned.

Tip of the Day: While I will always consider myself first and foremost a writer, art, beading, and working with hand-built pottery has enriched my life beyond measure. I can't imagine a day going by without at least a few minutes sketching or working on a new design for a bracelet or pair of earrings. The strongest advantage of having these varied interests is that they really do feed each other, especially when I'm stuck or hit some kind of road-block. Going back and forth between, say, a difficult scene in a particular chapter, to figuring out if blue beads look better with gold or silver findings, keeps my imagination active and open to receive the answers I need. Better than working solely on one project until you reach potential burn-out, always try to have another creative outlet ready and waiting. You'll be glad you did! 

UPDATE: Please note my shop has now moved to Valeriestorey.com

Traveling Light and Going Goal-Free

© Creative Commons Zero / Dreamstime.com

Here we are: June already, and the time of year I usually do a goals check-in, asking myself how it's all going, what's working, what isn't . . . Oh, boy.  

What can I say? As much as I'd love to tell you that my cumulative efforts toward goal-completion are moving with rocket speed, the truth is, they are not. In fact, a few weeks ago I actually got rid of my goals journal, and I feel a lot better for it.

As we are all probably sick of hearing (and knowing), 2020 hasn't been much of a joy ride. So many plans have had to be changed, put aside, or dropped altogether. For me personally this has involved abandoning plans to take new art and language classes, as well as giving up on even thinking about overseas travel. What I can do, however is keep working, as in:

• Keep writing, which means continuing with my WIP.
  
• Keep submitting my work for publication.
• Keep learning and practicing to improve my drawing and painting skills.
• Keep beading and building inventory for an eventual business, one that was supposed to start this summer, but now is, well, getting ready for NEXT summer!
  

My "modified goals" are simple, doable, and fit into my new 2020 routines and schedules. To make things even more streamlined, I've been doing some packing, putting away art supplies I'm not using at this exact moment; placing various unfinished works-in-progress into plastic storage containers; discarding old writing exercises that I know for sure I don't want to edit or publish, ever. 

I feel a lot lighter and a lot happier. With only a small amount of projects on my plate I feel as if I'm on a kind of creative vacation, the kind that only requires a small overnight bag and plenty of sunshine and rest.

Traveling light suits me and has always been my preferred way to see the world, whether it's a quick trip to Santa Fe, or a longer journey to Taiwan. Not only is a small suitcase easier to carry, but I never have to pay for any unwanted baggage fees. Most importantly, a small case makes me focus: What do I really need to have with me every day? What items will only create clutter, take up too much room, and will probably never be used anyway?

I weighed these same types of concerns to evaluate what it was I truly wanted to have with me for the rest of the year, if not beyond. As I was packing up my old first drafts and unused sketchbooks, it got me thinking about what else I could let go of, things that might be causing more trouble than joy in my life. You might recognize some of these in your own life and feel the need to let go of them too: 

• Emotions revolving around creative work. Something I've learned about creativity is that it's never going to be free of anxiety and stress. Stress that something isn't "right." Stress that a project or manuscript will never be "good enough." Heck, I can even stress over finding a typo in an old blog post! So often our expectations are light years beyond what is required to achieve or complete any given project. The sooner you can let go of worry and just create without expectation, the better your work will naturally become. Ironic, isn't it?
  

• Over-achieving. For me this means the need to work on too many projects at once. I fell into this bad habit when I read--and believed--a very stupid book that claimed multi-tasking was what highly-motivated professional writers and artists did: spin plates while walking on high wires and jumping through hoops with paintbrushes in both hands and a manuscript in their teeth. All day long! After hard experience and a lot of burn-out, I now know: tackling one project from start to finish is a far more productive, and satisfying, way to work. It's also a whole lot less to carry around in my brain.

• TBR pile. I love to read, more than anything else on earth! But sometimes I can have such a huge pile of books to get through it feels like I'm in some never-ending high school English class: read those books, write those reports! Better to have just one book that I really want to read than a stack of homework assignments.

• Too big of a to-do list. Another of my really bad habits: sitting down to write a daily to-do list that should only include: "buy milk, check post office box, pick up dry cleaning." Okay--that makes sense, one round trip should do it all. But then I start adding things like: Finish novel (which requires at least another six months). Practice drawing faces (well, maybe I have time for that over the weekend). Gesture drawings--twenty of them (which would take probably three hours). And it doesn't end there. Usually I need to get a second piece of paper to write down everything I want to do for the rest of my life. And it's all so counter-productive! Believing that I can accomplish all of this while going to my day job and buying the milk is a good guarantee that I end up wanting to do nothing but read one of those books from my TBR pile. From now on, my to-do list is going to be the size of a post-it or I won't even bother writing it.

• Too many ideas. Although I've done a good job of packing up my various projects in order to concentrate on finishing one manuscript in the form of my current novel, I still keep getting IDEAS. I don't want to ignore them completely and I don't want to lose them, but really, there are days I wish they'd go visit someone else. In order to semi-solve the situation, I've taken to simply writing them down and putting them away in a folder. I want to add "never to be seen again" but who knows, there might come a day when I'll be glad of them. The one thing I'm certain of, though, is I'm not going to a) dwell on them, b) drop everything else I'm doing to pursue them, and I'm especially not going to c) purchase anything they might cry out for such as new paint sets or special supplies. No, no, no!

• Too many online obligations and interactions. This is a difficult one, I know. But there's been something special about having this extra alone time to befriend myself, getting to know what I really want from life, and what types of goals will suit me best when I do come out of isolation. None of us need a thousand "likes" to know our work has value, just a strong inner voice reminding us to show up and do whatever we can at any given time.

To me traveling light means the ability to travel well and to travel easily. It means going where your heart calls you, not where the guidebook says you must. It means being able to stop and smell the roses right in front of you rather than  rushing off to find and paint acres of magic orchids just because it sounds so grand and accomplished. For now simplicity is truly the key. Happy Trails!
 
Tip of the Day: What's weighing you down right now? There's no reason to carry anything other than what you love, but even those things might need to be re-examined in order to navigate our current world with greater ease and a lighter step. Take some time to consider what to keep, what to get rid of, and what you might want for later but don't want to discard completely. Pack it up and save it for next year!