Sempre e Più

 

In the end, of course, you will take what life offers, but often life offers more to people who ask more of it.

—Garrison Keillor as Mr. Blue

 When I landed in Florence for a semester abroad in January 2002, I didn't have a ready-made friend group to fall into. I can't recall without digging out my old journals how I was doing emotionally in those first few days and weeks, but I do remember how excited I was to be living in a 17th-century villa with a cappuccino bar downstairs. (RIGHT?! That cappuccino got me halfway through my practice novel, but that's another story.)I also very clearly remember, in late January or early February, taking a phone call in the cafe area long after the barista had left for the night. I'd met Aravinda on a school trip to D.C. the previous year, and although we hadn't quite become friends yet, she was having an issue with her roommates (in an off-campus apartment) and needed to talk it out. They were telling jokes that were upsetting her, and even after she explained why she was upset (without getting into it, I can tell you that she was totally justified in her reaction), the roommates and their friends carried on as if she hadn't said a word. As I listened to her speak so openly of her hurt and frustration, I realized that I really, really wanted to be her friend. She trusted me to listen, and because she'd reacted to the situation just as I would have in her place, I knew I could trust her back.   We were friends from that night onward, and had lots of adventures in Italy together (and later on, in Ireland and Greece). Since she recently married a wonderful man named Nevin (which is why I was in San Francisco last month), I thought I'd take this opportunity to honor our friendship and all that I've learned from it.  Aravinda is one of the very smartest and most exuberant people I know, which is a (rare) personality combo I've always found invigorating. I've made many friends over the years I've wanted to be more like, but my friendship with Min was the first in which I was mature enough to realize this consciously.  People who know me in 2013 probably wouldn't peg me for an introvert (I'm an INFP, by the way), but being more friendly and open and outgoing is something I've consciously worked towards over the past decade. Looking back on my childhood and young adulthood, I see I was often fearful—afraid to express myself, to stick my neck out, to try new things instead of judging them. My perfectionism, too, kept me within a relatively narrow range of experience; for instance, when I got to Italy, I was so intent on speaking Italian properly that I never got around to having an actual conversation for all my hesitations. Aravinda, on the other hand, chatted away with every Italian she met, including my cousins in Sapri (on the Amalfi coast) when I took her to visit them.Did Aravinda care if she got the grammar wrong, or used a wonky cognate from her years of high-school French?Nope.Guess which of us my Italian cousins enjoyed talking to more!I watched her in these interactions, and wished I could be like her: so articulate and enthusiastic she almost literally sparkled, candid to a fault—and yet, on the whole, she did not care what anyone might think of her. She was the first friend to read my early writing, marking up my chapters and often telling me, "This is good, but you can do better." I loved her for her frankness, because I knew she cared enough to tell me the truth.Most of all, Aravinda was never afraid to ask for anything she needed or wanted, and before I knew her it had never really occurred to me that I could (and should!) do the same. But it makes sense, doesn't it, that if you want to be a person who has good self esteem, you begin by making friends with kind and honest people who already have it? By the tender age of twenty Aravinda had already mastered the prime directive of Richard Bach's Illusions (which you'll find at the top of this page, because it is the simplest and most perfect advice ever): she was who she is, calm and clear and bright.Lucky for me, some of that sparkle has rubbed off. Today I'm the person I wanted to be back then, and it has a lot to do with my friendship with Minnie Minster. More than she knows, I bet. There are many varieties of friendship, but the best kind offers both friends a continual opportunity to grow into better versions of themselves.  Aravinda is such a rare and lovely bird that to be perfectly honest, I doubted for a long time if there was a guy out there good enough for her. Here's something else I love about who I am these days: I actually enjoy being proven wrong. 

 Wedding photography by Ian Chin.    

Boston Book Festival

 I had a wonderful time at the Boston Book Fest on Saturday! I found out about the Writers' Room (there's an open house next month, I'm thinking of applying), got myself a subscription to The Writer magazine (half price! yay!), and sat in on three fascinating panel discussions—Americans Abroad, Historical Fiction: Imagining the Past, and Herstory: Women in History. All the panelists were very thoughtful and articulate, and I took a lot of notes.   There were two best moments, and both happened at the exhibitors' booths. I stopped by the Grub Street booth (I've been meaning to apply to teach there for four months already, so this was a good kick in the tush) and picked my "literary fate" from a jar of buttons.Which did I choose?Starving artist."No," I said, and dropped it back in the jar. "I'm done with that."Someone at the booth replied, "Really? That was fast." Someone else told me I could choose another one.So I picked this one, which I could live with.  The other best moment happened at the Small Beer Press booth, where I had the pleasure of meeting Susan Stinson.  We chatted about how supportive librarians are, and she positively bubbled over as she told me how many people had turned out for her launch event (which was at a library). Here I captured her mid-laugh. I know that giddy feeling, and it was really fun to watch her enjoying the fruits of her accomplishment. I'm excited to read her novel! 

@comet_party Really lovely to meet you, too. I hope you like it -- having the book out is like a moveable feast of an extended bday event.— Susan Stinson (@susanstinson) October 20, 2013

   I left Copley Square that evening with the sense that I've only just begun to tap into the literary community here. I want to attend more readings and other fun events, and make more writer friends! 

Memory Lane

 My grandparents are slowly cleaning out their house. There were lots of practical items they encouraged us to take—roughly twenty years' worth of hotel soaps, and I am now the proud owner of a pizza stone and a Pyrex baking set (yay!)—but other things were sentimental.     (For more old-school Sesame Street, check out my Viewmaster.)    We also found some board games from the late '60s, which were good for a laugh:     (Back to your regularly-scheduled craft post next week!) 

Banana Chia Breakfast Pudding

Kind of sad, isn't it, that until I was thirty years old this was the first thing that popped into my head whenever anybody said the word "chia"?:(You too, I bet!) Chia seeds are incredibly nutritious (fiber! antioxidants! those precious omega-3s!), and they're so easy to throw into a smoothie, cakey bread (like banana or lemon or pumpkin), or warm breakfast cereal. I had a really delicious chia pudding for dessert at Quintessence awhile back, and when I spotted some too-ripe bananas in the fridge while I was home last month, I decided to make something similar for breakfast.Gathering whatever I have on hand, experimenting, and taking notes—I need to do this more often! This being a raw pudding with no surprise ingredients, honestly, it was hard to mess up. My mother happily gobbled up a bowl, and she doesn't eat more than a bite of the things I make if she doesn't actually like them.Here's the recipe (if you can even call it that):

• 3 large ripe bananas
• ½ cup almond milk
• 3 tbsp. chia seeds stirred into 1½ cups water
• ½ tsp. cinnamon
• 1 cup chopped strawberries
• 1 tbsp. maple syrup (optional; if you use berries and super-ripe bananas it'll be sweet enough without it)

Let the chia seeds sit in water for a few minutes so they "glub up." Mash bananas with a fork and mix all ingredients together. Yields 4½ cups, so about four servings. (That said, I gobbled it all up apart from the cup I gave my mom.)Next time I'll try letting the seeds soak in almond milk so it'll be creamier. I also want to try a more autumnal chia pudding with pumpkin puree!

Audiobook giveaway winners!

Congrats to Kirsten and Jen—you've won the giveaway. Thanks to everyone who entered and took the time to recommend a scary story! 

so sad that @comet_party Petty Magic came to and end. What a fun @audible book!! -poignant and sweet, yet totally original and suspenseful!

— Anne Weil (@flaxandtwine) September 12, 2013

Queen Liz, part 2

               And I shall conclude this entry with the best booze ad I have ever seen:  (All Uganda and Rwanda entries here.)

Petty Magic audiobook giveaway!

You may remember that the Petty Magic audiobook, narrated by the sublimely talented Kelley Hazen (through Storyteller Productions), came out in August—and I have a free Audible copy to give away!There are several ways to enter:

• You get ONE entry for a Facebook comment
• TWO entries for a share, tweet or retweet
• and THREE entries for leaving a comment on this blog post (I'd love it if you recommended your favorite ghost or scary story!)

And, seeing as it's my little sister's birthday today, I'll give away a second copy if I hit fifty entries before midnight tomorrow (October 15th), when the giveaway closes.More about Kelley and the audiobook production process is coming soon!

Making in Tandem

Making your own hours is one of the best things about writing for a living. I can work on the novel 'til 1AM, and spend the whole next day crafting with a dear friend.If you haven't read Amy Lou's Where We Make entry yet—do! Amy's space is incredibly inspiring—soaking up all the happy creative juju is so good for me. Oh, and she has a brand-new website too, which captures her energy as perfectly as her guest post.I got some knitting done (though no sewing—next time!)It is a lovely friend indeed who takes the time to steam some almond milk for your coffee. Still working on my Pomegranate (by fellow Squammie Bonnie Sennott). This is the most complex lace I've ever done, and I often get comments as I'm knitting on the T. Really enjoying it.          

Eating Vegan in Uganda and Rwanda

When we travel we always pack a lot of nuts, dried fruit, and other protein-rich snacks (like wasabi peas and sesame sticks—bless you, Trader Joe!) Fortunately, Ugandan cuisine is rich in beans, rice, and root vegetables, and there is always fresh fruit available.             

Learning to Listen

"Be vigilant, and allow no one to mislead you by saying: 'Here it is!' or 'There it is!' For it is within you that the Son of Man dwells. Go to him, for those who seek him, find him."

—from The Gospel of Mary Magdalene *

Sometimes I'm not sure how much information is too much, so I err on the side of discretion. I started this blog in 2008 as a record of my creative and professional life, and while I might touch on personal stuff from time to time, it's generally from an oblique angle. I don't see the usefulness in telling you I've been through a break-up, for instance, when I could leave it at "Goodbye Galway."I'm not exactly changing my stance on this, but I am increasingly feeling that some topics we might classify as "personal" might also serve a practical purpose. If my goal is to be useful, and something I've learned has helped me tremendously (creatively and personally), then why would I opt not to share it?Because some stuff might strike you as, in a word...weird.If you know me, you know I am a bit of an "odd duck." I think maybe I always have been. I don't want to believe in something just because a so-called authority tells me it's the truth, or because I want to believe it's the truth. It doesn't make sense to me that there could even be ONE objective truth. So I prod and I ruminate, and even though I might say "I believe in this" or "I don't believe in that," I am also willing to be wrong on any given point (and so "I believe" merely serves as an expression of my subjective truth in that particular moment.) It's only logical to me that if I were to say "that's impossible" or "that's not true," then I would be walling myself off from potentially limitless possibilities. Oftentimes "I don't know" feels like the only reasonable response.For me, "being spiritual" doesn't mean strict adherence to a tradition I had no part in making; it means exploring and engaging and growing a little less uncomfortable with uncertainty, calling myself out on the lies I tell myself (and others) that provide me with an illusory sense of comfort and security. Through this process I grow into a better version of myself. I can see my progress through my interactions with loved ones and strangers alike: I am more patient than I used to be, more loving, more willing to consider someone else's perspective rather than jumping into the same old "mental tape" of you did this to me and that's why I'm totally justified in being a passive-aggressive shrew to you right now. (Not to say this never happens anymore, just that it happens less often because I'm actively working on it.)All this is to explain to you why I'd like to start blogging on spiritual topics from time to time. It just isn't enough to tell you that going vegan opened up a whole new realm for me; I have to give you details and specifics, or else none of this really means anything. I trust you'll take or leave any of it as you feel like; and if you choose to leave it, let me clarify that if certain things hadn't happened to me personally, I would be skeptical too.I mentioned in one of my September Squam 2012 recaps that I learned and grew in unexpected ways through a workshop with Marie Manuchehri, who is a very gifted psychic medium and energy worker. Listen to Marie's radio show and you'll hear plenty about Reiki and spirit guides and chakras and past lives and other stuff many people would dismiss as New Age twaddle. And yet, whether in a five-minute call on the radio show or through her private practice, Marie is clearly helping people to heal their physical and emotional traumas. My dear friend Amiee—whom I first met at Squam that weekend—also took Marie's class, and it changed her life even more dramatically. It was Amiee who introduced me, in a very grounded and practical way, to the concept of listening to my body.Back in March, I was feeling trapped for reasons I'll get into some other time. I was spending the weekend at Amiee's house, and we were talking through what was going on with me; and she suggested she do some "energy work" in a spirit of experimentation. Amiee has since completed her Reiki I and II certification, but at this point she was running on 100% intuition.As my friend moved her hands over my arms, legs, and lower back, I felt some pretty weird stuff welling up. I felt like crying, so I did. I have no idea how long the session lasted—half an hour? an hour? fifteen minutes?—but at the end of it I felt deeply mellow yet revived and refreshed. At the risk of giving you way too much information (okay, I know this is TMI, but it's useful TMI, remember?), even if I hadn't believed in any of this to begin with, over the next few hours and into the next day I made many more trips to the bathroom than I ordinarily would have. It was a concrete and measurable (ha) reaction—this was for real—and it was also extremely healthy.It turned out that the whole point of this energy work was the release of stagnant emotions I was holding in various parts of my body, stuff that had originated in childhood (and well before that, too, if you believe in that sort of thing). I felt, again, all the anger and frustration and deep disappointment that my parents could not have been the people I wanted them to be. (No doubt everyone goes through this, but it seems like other people don't hold on to things the way I always have. Or maybe I'm just doing that inside-outside comparison again.)At any rate, I understood—truly understood, for the first time—that these were my emotions to process and release, that it would not do to go on blaming my parents for what I'd been feeling all this time. (One unexpected result of this shift is a delicious new sense of mental and emotional and even physical space—space that I can use for something new! As Marie Forleo says in last week's MarieTV episode, "You can't have really amazing stuff show up in your life if you don't have room for it.")The emotional release wasn't the only surprise: Amiee had been having a conversation with my organs. "Your liver is happy. Your spleen and pancreas are content, but they'd be happier if you ate some fresh greens." (Amiee and I had eaten well that weekend, but before that I have to admit I'd been noshing on too much bread and Vegenaise.) But the real aha moment came when she said, "Your uterus is exhausted."Last TMI moment of this post, I promise! In the interest of environmental responsibility, I had been using devices like this in lieu of sanitary pads and tampons for more than ten years, and had continued to use a cup even though I'd never found it comfortable. C'mon, lady, my uterus seemed to be saying. Just get yourself some Luna pads so I can chill.Why the heck would I spend ten years doing something that made me uncomfortable? Because I wasn't listening to my body.Since that strange and wonderful day at Amiee's apartment, I have had one more body wake-up call, and this one happened without any help. I was at the end of a box of contact lenses, and every time I reminded myself to order a new supply a little voice would say, Don't. Don't order any more contact lenses. Your eyes need a rest.In the meantime, I was wearing my last pair well past the point at which I ought to have tossed them, and I will admit that this wasn't the only time I was guilty of overwearing. I finally went to see an optician at Copley Square, and told her I wanted to buy my first new eyeglasses since 2004.When the doctor finished examining my eyes she said, "It's a very good thing you came in. You've been wearing contact lenses for so long that your corneas are cutting off the blood supply, which means that blood vessels are beginning to grow in the corners of your eyes to get fresh oxygen to your irises. We've caught it early so there's no damage yet, but if you'd waited much longer the blood vessels might have grown to the point at which they interfered with your vision—and that is irreversible."WHOOOOOOOOOOOA.That was much too weird for coincidence, right? I knew what was going on in my body; I just needed to pause and actually pay it some attention.Doesn't it feel like we're working against our bodies more often than not? We get frustrated when a cold or stomach bug slows us down, we slap all sorts of chemicals on our skin, we eat food we know will give us indigestion (or worse). And that's the tame stuff. Here's where I think the early Christian ascetics got it entirely ass-backwards (ha, ha): the spiritual is rooted in the physical. If we don't first know what's going on in our bodies, we won't have a clue in any other respect. (My daily yoga practice is helping me tremendously with this process as well, but I'll write about that later.)So...if you've read this far, I thank you for hearing me out. This subject might seem like an odd departure for me, but it feels absolutely right. As I said though, if it's not for you, I won't mind a bit if you'd rather skip it.Also, I'll be tying in the vegan angle to a greater extent in future posts; looking back on the past three years, it's actually been quite a clear progression of experiences from Harmony Homestead Farm to Sadhana Forest to Squam to Hawthornden, all of which helped me clarify my path and purpose—and, piece by piece, allowed me to "tune in" in ways I'd never even dreamed of before.There is some crazy-marvelous stuff underway here, and I'm very excited to hear how your own experiences compare!  *  Research reading for Immaculate Heart. It's fascinating how much of this gospel controverts Church dogma. The Teacher is within you? No wonder they suppressed it!

"The Coroner's Bride" in print!

Exotic Gothic 5 is out in the world! This is old news, but the books were shipped to me in New Jersey, so I had to wait a few weeks to hold them in my hands.They are so beautiful. Well worth the wait!You may recall that this anthology includes my very first published short story, "The Coroner's Bride." Previous posts on EG5 here and here; I mention in the first post that my agent nudged me away from short-story writing six years ago, but I'm happy to report that she really liked it. Someday I'll get to work on a spooky story collection a la In a Glass, Darkly or Sarah Monette's The Bone Key (which is exquisite, by the way; one of my very favorite works of fiction).

Where We Make: Amy Lou Stein

[Amy Lou Stein dyes, sews, crochets and knits from her home studio just outside of Boston. She has taught me how to trace sewing patterns (to leave the original pattern intact) and how to use a serger for sewing jersey. Amy is—no contest—the most energetic person I know, and I love how that verve comes across in her writing.]

 My darling friend Camille asked me to write about my creative space, so here goes.Our house is its own “creative process.” Even though I do have a designated space for crafting, I manage to overflow into the garage, basement and assorted nooks and crannies with my bins 'n pins.My work room is the back mudroom leading to the yard and laundry, perfect for accessing hoses, slop sinks and plant matter. But it’s also the path my family (and sometimes the entire neighborhood) use to go in and out of the house. Since I have no door between me and them, finishing a thought is an emotional and creative Twitter feed, limited, interrupt-able and open to the world. I do a lot of dyeing and I have all sorts of jars full of concoctions, powders, plant matter and pretty stones. I have been using our garden’s coreopsis to dye some silks and cottons that I recently indigo dipped and I am almost finished with a pretty blouse. My absolute favorite part of my room is the sweet trash-picked USPS table from 1931. It’s so high that I stand up to sew and now I am so used to it I prefer standing and sewing. The light streams in during the afternoon and makes me happy.My only lament is my lack of organization in terms of shelving (and lack of shelves!) I need a twelve-step program to address my unhealthy relationship with every crafter’s best friend, THE PLASTIC BIN. The bins are full of every single kind of thing you might ever need...until you need it—and then I realize that OMG I ran out of fusible interfacing or, dread of dreads, fructose for my Indigo vat (that happened today).I usually spend some time cleaning the space only to explode (literally) fiber everywhere when I have an idea. Hence, it is impossible to be anywhere in our house and not see some remnant of cloth, pin, yarn or hook along with many unfinished objects. Where We Make is a weekly series on creative workspaces, appearing each Friday. Read the submission guidelines here. If you'd like to contribute a profile of your own space, please email me at cometpartyATgmailDOTcom.

Faux Vintage

I had so many crafty plans for the summer, but in the end I only finished one project.I fell in love with this cotton lawn as soon as I saw it on the Mood Fabrics website. It felt so 1940s, and perfect for a summer blouse.I actually finished the sewing back in June, and sewed on the buttons at a Make Out session in July (if I remember rightly). The pattern is Colette's Violet blouse.Even though the blouse came out well and the whole process went quite smoothly, I'm reluctant to call this a successful F.O. I fell in love with the print without stopping to consider if it would actually flatter me, and I'm not sure that it does. I should have gone with a solid color or at least a smaller print. Secondly, it's too short! The next time I make this pattern I'll add two or three inches to the body length.I also don't have much to match it with. I did get these awesome high-waisted denim capris from Bettie Page back in July (the salesgirl said they're actually cut from a 1950s pattern), but it would be great to have at least one pair of shorts and one skirt to match as well. Colette has the perfect patterns, of course (and I already have Ginger in my stash). Making this blouse has reminded me why dresses are easier; you put on a dress and you're done. No matching!Yes, I wimped out on the buttonholes by doing loops instead. The buttons were left over from this summer 2012 knitting project, a ginger-cat for my friend Alicia's daughter. (Those embroidery classes paid off! I never would have done such a neat job before Jessica and Rebecca.) My first collar facing!As for the pattern itself, I'll echo everyone else who's made it and say size down. I made it in a size 6—I usually wear an 8 or 10—and it's still fairly roomy. This was my first Colette project, and the directions are SO clear and easy to follow, especially compared to the way traditional commercial patterns are written and laid out.After taking these photos I went into town for yoga and dinner, and had to rethink all the things I don't like about this blouse after I received three compliments from strangers of both sexes within literally five minutes (one of whom ducked into the Citizens Bank ATM lobby where I was getting cash especially to tell me how pretty it is!) I think the Donna-Reedishness of it really appeals to people. Maybe I remind them of black-and-white photos of their twentysomething grandmothers. For example:(A Green Goddess bowl and a Loco-Coco smoothie at Life Alive, delivered by a girl who said "I love your shirt, it's really pretty." The lighting makes the greens look less appetizing than they are. Thoroughly delicious, especially with that ginger nama shoyu sauce!)

A More Peaceful Language

Raise your hand if you've ever used any of the following expressions.He chickened out.People are such pigs.I want to get my ducks in a row.There's more than one way to skin a cat.We all have. I'm way more conscious than I used to be of the violence implicit in our everyday language, but I still slip up sometimes. The opening night of Main Street Vegan Academy, Tali and I were talking about how delicious the DF Mavens non-dairy ice cream is, and I wondered if it would be all right if I had a second helping. "Or would that make me a piggy?" I caught myself as soon as I said it, and felt especially mortified to have said such a thing in a room full of vegans!I suppose this seems like a non-issue to a person who still eats pigs, but for me—someone who has read of how intelligent and affectionate pigs are, and that they roll in the mud to keep cool because they don't have sweat glands—this was definitely an unconscious thing to say.  I want my language to reflect my values. I want to avoid saying or thinking words like "hate" and "kill" and "shoot," and the unpleasant expressions mentioned above, as best I can.If you're interested in thinking more deeply about our language choices and how they reflect our attitudes about animals and food, Colleen Patrick-Goudreau did a podcast back in 2006 called The Language of Meat. She even gets into the etymologies of meat-related words we take for granted. (A more recent episode on the subject is Verbal Vivisection: How Euphemisms, Oxymorons, and Doublespeak Disguise Our Violence Against Animals.)I've been wanting to call a lot of things "bullshit" lately. It's a word that's been trickier to let go of, since in my in-person and online conversations about veganism I'm placing so much emphasis on seeing and telling the truth. "Baloney" is a word that makes me laugh, so it doesn't feel like an appropriate substitute. On the other hand, when I remember what is IN a slice of lunchmeat—hormones, antibiotics, lethal bacteria—the word "baloney" (all right—"bologna") fills me with indignation. Which is exactly how I feel when I want to use the word "bullshit."This isn't as "nit-picky" a topic as it might at first seem. Becoming more compassionate and aware human beings entails modifying our behavior on every level—and that often means changing what comes out of our mouths, not just what goes in.

Queen Liz, part 1

En route to Queen Elizabeth National Park, we saw a mini-bus with these words decal'd on the back window:

IF GOD SAY YES

WHO CAN SAY NO?

It made me happy. On the way into the park, we saw a pair of lions lounging in the long grass. (Holy crap, we really are in Africa!)We arrived at Mweya later than anticipated, around nightfall, and some of us (who shall remain nameless) panicked when faced with the prospect of spending the night at a wide open, unguarded campsite. We realized that if the park rangers aren't expecting anyone—or if you don't arrive early enough—there won't be anyone there in the evening to light a fire and keep the animals away. Jill offered to spring for a night at the fancy-pants lodge up the road, but we nixed that idea as soon as we realized how much it would cost. (Take your biggest estimate and double it! Sheesh!) Fortunately there was a good hostel-restaurant nearby, so we had a cute and very reasonably priced little cottage to ourselves for the next two nights. You should have seen the stars.(If you are wondering if I got enough to eat as a vegan, it was all good. I ate so much hearty tasty food in Uganda and Rwanda that I'm devoting an entire post to it!)In the morning we got up before dawn, and saw many beautiful animals and landscapes:Next time: WE WERE THISCLOSE TO A LEOPARD AND IT WAS GORGEOUS!(All Uganda and Rwanda entries here.)

McCormick Templeman: Dipping your toes in different realities

To celebrate my new website, I've planned a series of fun and juicy Q&As with some of my favorite creative people. First up is McCormick Templeman, novelist and all-around marvelous being. Her new novel, The Glass Casket, comes out in February! You told us in our first Q&A how you came to study Chinese medicine, and how acupuncture school gave you a healthier sense of perspective about your writing. You've also said that you sometimes use diagnostic techniques from Chinese medicine to organize and revise a manuscript in a more organic way, and that acupuncture treatments can sometimes lead to a breakthrough. Do you feel that studying acupuncture has allowed you to tap into a deeper reserve of creativity?Absolutely. I’ve had many of my biggest breakthroughs while getting an acupuncture treatment. It’s like a plot walk on steroids. Moving the Qi through one’s body clears up physical, mental, and emotional blocks, and I’ve found that in my case it also clears up narrative blocks. It really works wonders.I also think that studying something deeply can do wonders for a person—especially if it’s a jog away from the path you’re already on. Writers spend so much time alone, living in our own fictional worlds, that it’s important to keep a toe dipped into a different reality. I think it has become difficult to do that these days when promotion and social media presence have become such a large part of our job, and while I think social media can serve a purpose, I think it can also prove detrimental to our writing and to our wellbeing. There’s so much noise and so much of it can make you feel bad and is ultimately meaningless. In the immortal words of Le Tigre, “GET OFF THE INTERNET!” Get out into the real world, challenge yourself, try new things, commit yourself to something unfamiliar and difficult. Step out of your comfort zone for a while and when you come back to your writing, it will be all the easier to reconnect with the pleasure, the magic of it. And because you are replenished, you will have that much more to give. You're one of the most intuitive people I know. How would you say you use your intuition in the service of your writing?That’s so kind of you to say. I don’t think I’m especially intuitive, but I do think I trust my intuition more than most people do. When I’m drafting, I’m really following a sense of joy, a desire to tell myself a story, and in that stage, there is nothing but intuition for me. I shut out logic and external voices, and just allow myself to wander and play.When it comes to editing, I become much more analytical and rigid in my approach, but even then, I’m still trusting my gut. Usually when I set a manuscript aside and then approach it again, I don’t do close read-through at first. The first thing I do is think about how I feel about the different parts of the book. Is there anything that’s been sitting wrong with me? Is there anything that makes me feel a little queasy when I think about it? That’s the part I start with, and only once I’m sure how I feel about the part that doesn’t work, do I get really rigorous and critical in my approach to how to fix it. Contrary to that popular cliche of the self-destructive artist, the older I get the more I see just how integral a role self care plays in my creative process. Are there any special foods or rituals you find particularly nourishing as you are settling in to write?I wish that I could say I’m always mindful of self-care, but I’m afraid it goes in cycles for me. I don’t write every day—far from it. I think and plot and plan every day, but I only sit down to write once I’m ready to write or revise the whole book. During the phases where I’m not writing, I spend a lot of time daydreaming about a book, letting the world start to form in my mind, getting glimmers of a character or an event, and during that time, I try to enjoy a full, balanced life where I eat well, exercise, enjoy spending time with my family, and get good sleep. It’s like that phase of the cycle is preparing my body and mind for the main event of drafting or revising. But when I’m working, I lose track of the real world. It’s like I’m possessed, and I can’t stop to think about healthy habits, nor do I have any rituals. I just work constantly. I become reliant on the kindness of strangers. (I seem to remember you once sending me an email reminder to eat lunch.) This is the phase where things like coffee and processed foods can become dietary staples. I try to make up for it during the healthy cycle by eating lots of spinach and kale and things like that. And then, of course, there’s the part of life where a book goes out on submission. That’s vodka and Ho Hos for breakfast time.# # #I'm a little afraid to ask if she was joking about the vodka and Ho Hos. Seriously though, I love what McCormick has to say about removing physical blocks to clear creative blocks, and about stepping outside our comfort zones to rediscover the magic in our own work. Do you see why I adore this woman??

I have decided on just the right simile for meeting @MKTempleman on my birthday. It is like ten Christmases rolled into one.— Camille DeAngelis (@comet_party) September 19, 2013

Find McCormick on the web at McCormickTempleman.com, and on Twitter at @mktempleman. Preorder The Glass Casket on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Indiebound. And of course, there will be another giveaway come February! (An undead Snow White—I am so jealous I didn't think of it first!)

Where We Make: Yours Truly

Earlier this year I accepted a position as a resident assistant at an ESL school in a Boston suburb, which means I get room and board in exchange for easy part-time work. I've made some very dear friends here and I get to save my advance money (YAY!), but other aspects of life on campus are, needless to say, less than ideal. I am living in a dormitory—not nearly as nice a dorm as those I had at NYU!—and I know many of my friends and colleagues (who are living, y'know, responsible grown up lives) find this state of affairs somewhat horrifying, though they are too polite to say so. Yes, in my private space there are cinderblock walls, chipped linoleum flooring and a long-forgotten flip-flop gathering dust under the window seat. At any given moment, day or night, I might hear teenagers shouting and singing in any of a dozen languages in the commons outside my window. But there's also plenty of built-in shelving, a sufficient number of electrical outlets, and an abundance of sunlight for my maidenhair fern and basil plant to revel in.

I became a writer, a real writer, in a room I shared with three other girls at La Pietra, so life at Pine Manor feels like coming full circle in a way that actually amuses me. I'm reminded on a daily basis of just how little I need in order to do what I do best: I have my own desk, my own chair, my own room, and money to keep me. Virginia Woolf would concur that I am absolutely set.

No matter how temporary, though, I do like to make a space my own. I've crammed the shelves with books for research, pleasure, self improvement, and all combinations thereof. I've put up a bulletin board my dad gave me, and it still sports a Spag's bumper sticker from when my aunt Kathy lived in Shrewsbury in the '80s. Funny thing: when I look at that sticker, I think not of the past, the ersatz golden days of dowdy Christmas sweaters and are we there yet?, but of how right it feels to be living in Massachusetts here and now. 

Where We Make will be a weekly series on creative workspaces, appearing each Friday. Read the submission guidelines here. If you'd like to contribute a profile of your own space, please email me at cometpartyATgmailDOTcom.

On the Nature of (Beautiful) Things

Here's the very belated Christmas present I mentioned in my post on selfish knitting.It's for my dear friend Jill, who gave me some really beautiful vintage clothing after she moved from Minneapolis to the D.C. area last spring.One of the pieces was her wedding ensemble—embroidered linen, since apparently she was a bit of a hippie! I knew I wouldn't wear the blouse, so I asked her if it was okay to cut it up and turn it into something else, and she was cool with that. On our Turkey trip we were reading about Lucretius in a New Yorker that got read cover to cover at least twice, so this project was inspired by a line from De Rerum Natura:

Thus things for things shall kindle torches new.

As I ruminated on this line in particular, I became enchanted with the idea of one form of love turning over into another—one kind of love creating another. Elliot and Spencer's parents, like ours, are no longer married, and as a child of divorce I think about this from time to time: that my parents had to come together because we wanted to enter into the world through them, and that in a cosmic sense they may have had very little choice in the matter. (I don't actually believe that, but it's always fun to ruminate on these Big Questions, right?)So as I stitched, I enjoyed the symbolism in cutting up Jill's wedding blouse to make something completely different (and equally pretty, I hope).I did the embroidery 100% freehand. I didn't have a plan, and I didn't trace a design onto a piece of Sulky Solvy (though that was my original intention). I wanted to see how it would turn out if I took a more organic, "type B," anti-perfectionist approach. Actually, I can't see that it would have turned out any nicer if I had sketched something out beforehand. I'm very happy with it!I used my all-time favorite calico for the backing.

Vegan Eats on Either Coast

I feel like I've been bopping all over the place since I got back from Uganda. The Monday before last I went down to New York for my Yaddo pal John Searles's book launch (more about Help for the Haunted soon), and had an exquisite tapas dinner at Sacred Chow with Steve beforehand. (We hadn't seen each other since London at the end of 2010, so it took me awhile to get used to seeing him with no dreads!)Smoky home fries, BBQ'd ginger seitan, Dijon marinated raw kale, grilled black olive seitan, root vegetable latkes, (those waffley things—they came with a delicious sour-creamish sauce), and sunflower lentil pâté with jicama. I could hardly pick a favorite.Turns out Steve is a vegetarian now. I used to think of him whenever anybody mentioned chicken quesadillas, so it feels good to see him eating healthier foods.Banana pound cake and a macaroon with blueberry compote. Not the sort of macaroon I was expecting, but it was still pretty tasty.Then last weekend I went to San Francisco for Aravinda and Nevin's wedding (more on that soon, too), and the day before I met up with Spencer for lunch at Herbivore on Valencia Street. His "meatballs" were really delicious, and my grilled corn-cake platter was a welcome change from the tofu scrambles I usually order for brunch (mostly at Trident).Black beans, salsa, guacamole, home fries, and grilled corn cakes with vegan sour cream.Minnie Minster promised a vegetarian Indian buffet after the wedding, and HOLY MOLY was it ever good. That's a masala dosa.On Monday I wandered around the Ferry Building before meeting up with a new friend to watch America's Cup, and found a juice bar and vegan doughnut stand right next to each other. I guess they kinda cancel each other out, but don't know that I've ever had a vegan doughnut before, so I couldn't resist. It was insanely delicious. (Blueberry frosting!)(Random sign that made me smile. Probably not vegan though...)

Hello Kampala!

Before we left for Uganda I got to spend a couple of nights in D.C. with the fam. Kate and Elliot bought a house earlier this year, and it was so much fun to see it for the first time and ooh and ahh over all the improvements they've already made. We had a little happy-new-house pre-trip root beer toast (nice root beer, no high fructose corn syrup!), and I found this fortune inside the cap. It was a little bit disconcerting, actually, because taking myself less seriously is something I have to work at on a daily basis.Laid over in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.First things first: we set up our tents at Kampala Backpackers Hostel. I expected to feel disoriented—seeing as this was my first time in Africa—but everything felt new and fresh and exciting, even something as simple as sucking on sugar cane from a street vendor:After wandering around our neighborhood for a bit, we met up with Spencer's friend Ambrose (from his first trip to Africa in 2007), and experienced mall food Uganda style:This photo doesn't actually capture how intense it was. A waiter from each restaurant in the mall hurries to your table and tries to get you interested in their menu over everyone else's. It was a relief when we all finally decided on what to order!The next morning Colin met us at the hostel, and after a brief trip to the travel agency to iron out the details and pay our balance, we drove down to Queen Elizabeth National Park. We had to stop for fruit, of course:SO CUTE!Jackfruit. I loved it in India—I remember it tasting like a cross between pineapple and mango—but we never got around to buying any this time. I did snack rather compulsively on passionfruit though, haha. Next time: Queen Liz, part 1!(All Uganda and Rwanda entries here.)