Look At Me

 So much has happened since I last wrote here.

I. Some things come without sweat

Sometime in July 2021, I moved from Madrid, Spain, to San Francisco, USA. Between both cities was a 2-week limbo in the UK, during which I met my husband. The first time he called, our conversation stretched into the night; somehow, it feels like we’ve not stopped talking. If anyone had asked me to list what I’d love about marriage, I wouldn’t have thought to include ‘play’. But now, I see how playful I can be and how vital play is to a rich life.

II. Others demand your blood

In January 2021, after a series of unpleasant months, I took a train from Madrid to Nîmes, France, to be with B, whose love has anchored me many times. (If you live long enough, you collect stories of people and events that saved your life.) Sometime later, I wrote: “Maybe it was because I arrived Nîmes stripped of joy, of hope, of the will to be. Or maybe it was just time to see and understand. Pruned vines look like dead, joyless, hopeless things. But even when my eyes can't see life, I know that seasons change, and dead things spring to life.  In time. On time. Tended by His loving hands. Alleluia.” When I returned to Madrid, Dr C turned my attention to tending and pruning the aged vines of my heart.

III. Still, life keeps calling

The older I grow, the more I see that we’re living in limbo and in fulfilment. For a long time, I only focused on the limbo—the not yet. In the last few years, I’ve seen many ‘not yets’ turn to fulfilment even as more ‘not yets’ pop up or continue to lurk. Right now, I’m splitting my time between two continents while longing to plant roots again. Still, I started a garden in our UK home last summer because there’s no point waiting for perfect conditions. It’s probably overgrown right now, but its existence is all that matters.

 IV. Like images in a funhouse mirror, whispering

I moved to SF to work on my novel at USF. As I get closer to the end of the first draft, I’ll probably share more about it with you. I find it hard to talk about my fiction, but my time at USF is helping me get past that. It’s interesting, though, that I always considered myself a fiction writer until a writer friend heard about my MFA in Fiction and said, “But you’re a non-fiction writer.” She was right. I make my living from writing (and ghostwriting) non-fiction, and I’ve published more non-fiction than fiction. Yet, I identify more with a desire than reality. Here’s to tilting the scales someday soon.

V. Look at me

I’ve spent many years in the background writing for others. I love it, and I’m incredible at it, to be frank. But the thing about working in the shadows is that you get used to not being seen—to fading away once your work is done. So, imagine how surprised I was in July 2021 to get an email inviting me to create a Speechwriting course for Domestika. Months of creating and a week of filming in New York came together in ‘Speechwriting: Find the Storyteller in You’. I’m very proud of this course, and I hope you’ll support me by taking it to improve your storytelling skills, sharing it, and gifting it.

VI. The end

Some things come without sweat; others demand your blood. Still, life keeps calling like images in a funhouse mirror, whispering, look at me. The end.

Cover Image Copyright: Domestika