Catching Scents

Ah, we've entered into the dark months, always a hard time for me. (I appreciate these months, but they're hard.) I came across this piece from about 20 years ago, about the end of winter and thought I'd share it.

I’ve been catching scents: crossing the parking lot at school when suddenly I smell the mud, just briefly, and then it’s gone again. I know that mud, I know that smell, I think, it’s the late winter smell that comes after several days of thawing, the ground soft underfoot, water coming up as you press the earth down. It comes with the sideways sweep of wind on your arms until suddenly you know, without knowing how, that maybe you won’t need to wear a sweater tomorrow, and you start watching the trees for budding. I look for the moss, delicate sharp flowerlets of bright green, no larger than a thumbtack. The grass is still brown, the soil looks dead, but bending closer under the cover of withered grass is the moss: luxurious, rampant, abundant, if oh so tiny. From here on in I know that spring is coming, even if it snows again. I live in this world, I am embedded in this world, I am the world, and even if I forget it sometimes the truth remains because, see, there’s a whiff of mud suddenly as I cross the parking lot at school.

            I hear the birds so clearly now. I woke up this morning thinking kids were playing on the street and it was the birds: loud, joking, calling their good-mornings to the sky and to each other.

            I went for a walk today through town, up by all the older houses and the cemetery. I was going along, in my own head, when I was struck by a rosebush in front of me. How else can I say it: the sight of the tangled branches, the thorns, the dried rose-hips stopped me as surely as if I’d been hit. All the many shades of brown in the new stems, now gray, lined, no longer thorned but weathered, crisp; the delicacy of the rose-hips purple-red-brown and tough, their hard shiny surface surrounded with a lace of leftover leaves. These had lasted the winter, the storms and the wind, the carelessness of people passing no longer looking now that the roses were gone. The roses told me: stop, and, slow down, and I did, I did, in time to see the tree limb weaving the air into being for me, in time to watch the rippling of water beneath my feet. I stopped and looked below the grate and saw the coursing of water two feet below me. There is water beneath my feet! I stood and listened to the water flowing by, on its own way, water tumbling over itself and joined by more and more water winding its way down the streets to the grate, to… I realized I didn’t know where the water went to after that. I left this for another day and continued walking, but before I had even gone five feet I was stopped by another call of water falling, running. Two grates! one on each side of the street, and I stood there and listened to the water running on both sides of me, running down, running down from everywhere, and now I could hear the plink, plink of water dripping onto slate below a tree and the faster fall of water in the gutters and drainpipes along the houses. Everywhere was water, water, and I stood in the middle of it all and listened.

Cheers -
SA

#FinishUrBookFall - Oct. Update

This year instead of NaNoWriMo I’m taking part in a new challenge, #FinishUrBookFall. Since the summer I’ve been alternating between two projects (described here) and at some point I realized that I maybe had enough material for the first to start thinking about it as a collection. Possibly a book? Certainly a chapbook. Then the #FinishUrBookFall challenge came along and I figured this would be a good way to focus my attention and really get some work done on this.

What can I say, I like challenges.

And it’s been working. I have more energy and direction around this project than I’ve had before, I’m seeing things come together. At the same time, of course, I’m visited by doubt. I’m repeating myself (ideas, themes, words) – I have nothing new or worthy to say – my writing is obvious, trite…

Then at the same time I read other people’s collections, ones that are meaningful to me, that have given me inspiration or encouragement, and I see ideas, themes, words repeated… only in their work I see it as resonance, or echoes, or other ways of describing the ways that coming back to something again & again strengthens it, or turns it, or fragments it in ways that allow you to put things back together in new and insightful ways. So maybe mine will be useful to someone else in the same way.

(Of course there are the works I read that are so virtuoso that there isn’t any expectation of approaching, I’m content to merely kneel at their feet…)

I was blessed to see Ada Limón recently at the poetry book club I go to (author of Bright Dead Things, The Carrying). Among the questions she answered were ones on how she forms her collections. So I was blessed not only with her presence overall but also with very specific notes on exactly what I’m curious about right now, resonating with thoughts I’ve had about this. Her process isn’t mine, of course, but I think it’s similar enough in ways that I can get guidance from her words.

I currently have about 20 in close to final form, or if not finished, at least ready for other eyes, and another 20 or so in larval form. Not everything will go in so yes, I think chapbook is the right answer. Though I’ve also been wondering about what is missing, what needs still to be written, so who knows… I think perhaps quite a lot. It looks like I will come to the end of #FinishUrBookFall and see I have at least another year’s writing in front of me, let alone revision. But that’s okay. Already this exercise of thinking about putting together a book has led to good questions and new determination. And I find the more I write the more endurance I have for it, the more drive I have. The more ideas. The more I want to study as well…

Sometimes it feels my body can’t contain all I want to do. I remember this feeling from other times in my life and back then I got overwhelmed, more than once… I know better now how to ride it out, the rhythm of pushing forward and then, maybe not quite pulling back but allowing myself not to push for a while. To rest in the other rhythms of my life, the other things that need doing. It helps also that I’m working with all of me these days too, in fact, that’s the only way I could do this.

So onward I go!

S.A.

Committing to Poetry at Age 47

On the one hand it’s daunting, how little I know about the craft of writing poetry, or even of reading it. I go to these workshops and people speak with such knowledge, sometimes clearly pulling on years of study. Oodles of poets, of theory, of schools of thought. Of their own experience. I’m reading Robert Haas’s book on form and when I do understand what is being talked about it’s clear how much can go into it. Every word, every line. Antecedents and parallels and responses to other people’s work. And I’m stumbling through, a workshop here, book club there, reading an essay about form or craft here and there, there’s so much I don’t know and never can catch up to. And it’s really daunting.

…And at the same time I’m so glad I didn’t have that kind of education, I think I would have gotten myself twisted up and turned away, frozen completely, unable to go on. I’m glad I wrote a lot that wasn’t poetry but somewhat adjacent to it, read a lot just because. I feel I have developed, or am well on my way to developing, my own style – punctuation, line length, rhythm, etc. And I think it would have been a lot harder if I’d been taking classes or doing lots of workshops, trying to take in a hundred pieces of advice. Why? Because I did not stand solid in myself and would have wanted too much to find my way through others’ paths. But I feel solid in myself as a writer now, thanks to hundreds of blog posts and tens of devotions and even tweets, as I try to distill thoughts into 280 characters that don’t offend my ear. And also through my failures: attempting to write/draw children’s books or comics, and then novels. Only to come back to poems, again and again.

I recently received some excellent critical feedback of a few of them – and I can take it now, in a way I couldn’t have five, ten years ago, or even six months ago. It means a lot that I can take it in – disagree in places – and am strong enough in myself for it. This is only possible now that I am living closer to my true self to begin with. I think I might be ready now to take an actual class or commit to a workshop series at some point.

I’m currently working on two projects. The first is a collection of contemporary poems, spanning the last 20 years and set in the U.S. On nature & fear & the city & wonder & the work of figuring things out. Then the second is a new work, set in Bavaria, of a witch and his dragon, or a dragon and xyr witch. I wanted to try my hand at a longer narrative framework with fantastical elements and this is where I was led… It feels way beyond my abilities at the moment but it will also take years to write, I imagine, and I’ll learn what I need to along the way.

Poetically yours,
S.A.

Crocodile & Cat

So this is a wee bit of something I don't know how to characterize - not a story, exactly, not a poem either, akin to a devotion but not something I'd write for work. But I'm fond of it and thought it should be out there (it originally had a home in my masters thesis).

**********

The crocodile called out to the cat. He was in the river, the cat on the bank, slowly walking, lifting one paw up and putting it down. “You walk carefully,” said the crocodile.

            “With each step I pray.”

            “To whom do you pray?” asked the crocodile.

            “To the god that made me.”

            The moon watched them pass beneath her and breathed out to the stars. The air was cool and bright. The crocodile sank under the water and watched fish dart in front of him. He came up and called to the cat.

            “Cat, what does your god say?”

            The cat pulled his feet beneath him and sat, eyes closed. His whiskers stretched in the moonlight, he lifted his chin to the moonbreeze. “It is all our god, yours and mine.”

            The crocodile ducked under water, embarrassed. The cat sat. The moon watched.

Under water, the crocodile rested his chin in the mud and counted reeds. At fifty he came up, saw the cat, and went back under. He counted frogs. That took longer. At fifty he came up. The cat’s eyes were closed and he said, “It is god who made that water and these reeds and those frogs. You were born of mud, I was born of dust.” The crocodile sank under and counted his teeth, ten times over. When he came up, the cat had tucked his paws under and slept.

The crocodile crept up the bank and lowered his head to the cat. His breath tickled the grass. His eyes were gold. The cat opened his eyes. His eyes were gold. The cat said, “Tell me.”

The crocodile closed his eyes. “What do I say?” he asked.

The cat closed his eyes. “I give thanks for the sun and the rain. I praise the sweet smell of the mud. I dance to the moon and I sing to the wind. When the wind is still, I hum to the earth. I enjoy the frogs. I chant to the trees. All this is god, and I am glad.” He opened his eyes. “What do you do?” he asked.

The crocodile sank low. “I count,” he said.

“What do you count?”

“I count the waterbugs,” he said. “I count the currents. I count the hippos and the frogs and the reeds.” The cat closed his eyes. “I count the raindrops. I count the stones. I count the winds.” The cat sat up and stretched his ears. “I count,” the crocodile said.

“The egret,” the cat said, “names things. She sings these in her sleep.”

“The elephant dreams,” he said, “and whispers these to the ibex.”

He said, “The ibex listens.”

The crocodile raised his chin to the wind. “It is good to pray,” he said.

“It is good to pray,” the cat agreed.

The crocodile slid down to the river and under the water. The cat stood up, stretched his tail, and walked, lifting one foot up and putting it down.

**********

Devotedly yours,

S.A.

So What’s Been Going On With You Anyway?

Hey y’all. There’s been a lot going on in my personal life over the last year, and I haven’t been sure how to talk about it here, or if I even wanted to. Or if it even made sense to keep this blog going.

Eventually, though, I decided I wanted to at least keep this space, so, with a little revision, here we are.

Running

No running right now! Years of ignoring my core, while still partaking in intense physical activity (and probably aggravated by my scoliosis) have led to muscle imbalance and weakness and from there to a chronic knee injury. I’m taking the time right now to really focus on rehab and some other health issues with the goal of being able to return to running and swimming.

Writing

I’ve set aside the novels. They were useful at the time – as a way to keep writing when writing poetry felt too raw/vulnerable, as a way to work through some things I couldn’t look at head-on,  and to prove to myself I could. But poetry is my real love.

There’s a common adage in ministry that you should only do it if you really, really, really, really can’t do anything else. Because why else take up something so challenging and with so little reward. I think the same thing is true of poetry – it’s a calling.

I was trying to articulate for a friend how poetry feels intimately connected to spirit for me and so why making a commitment to it is about more than just words on a page. Here's what I came up with:

That poetry is the medium I live in, breathe with, swim through. Medium as in both as the substance that surrounds me - that sustains and heals and invigorates me - and as the material that I work with.

I’ve been writing new work and revisiting all of my previous writing. There’s not much yet that I feel is complete, or that I’ve gotten enough feedback on to want to share widely (still looking for a poetry buddy!), but I’ll might start posting some work here over the next few months.

Body & Spirit

Longtime readers (don’t know if I have any left!) may see I’ve cleaned up a lot of old posts. Mostly ones to do with goal-setting, or with food/weight-loss. This is probably a surprise given how much time I’ve spent on such posts! But I’ve never found long-term goals to be that useful, as you’ve seen from my inability to keep to them. Short-term goals, yes. Mid-term priorities, for sure. Long-term vision, absolutely.

A lot of those posts were also about me trying to figure out “what should I do with my life” – but I’m feeling pretty clear about that now, thanks very much.

As for the food/weight-loss posts, I’m sure I’ll write more at some point about my eating disorder. (For example, I’ve been interested to learn that there is a higher incidence of eating disorders among the transgender population, particularly among trans masc people.) But in reviewing what I’d written, I can see how far I’ve come since then, and I didn’t want to perpetuate old thinking that proved unhelpful at best and harmful at worst. So while there may be a few references to struggling with food (especially around marathon training), I’ve tried to remove any other specific references.

And that’s it for now! If you found me from Twitter, that’s where I’m most active. If not from there, you’re probably family / friend / longtime reader, drop me a note here if you want to connect.

Peace,

S.A.

A Coming Out Story

So... last night I and two other queer colleagues of mine shared our coming out / faith journey stories at the monthly gathering of the women's group at the church I work at, in honor of LGBT History Month. I thought you all might find what I shared interesting.

It's a very particular perspective, narrowly focused on the intersection of my church-going experience (vs. my actual faith, which I don't broadcast widely and especially not in that setting) and my identity as a queer person (and not all of that, either). But I had the opportunity and thought my story could be of use to others, and so far the feedback I've received suggests that it is. So here you go.

Happy Belated Coming Out Day (Oct. 11)! Maybe next year I'll write a less heavily redacted version.

Annie

**************************************************

I first came out in 1988, 30 years ago, when I was 16. I’d known before then that I felt different but I didn’t have words to explain how – it was the 80s and all we heard about was gay men and AIDS. Then I was reading the alumnae journal of a college I was considering attending and the then-president of the college was talking about the “lesbian problem” there, and I knew, quite clearly, that that’s where I wanted to go.* I went to college that fall, promptly came out as a lesbian, and once I’d been there a while longer and knew more words, came out quietly to myself as bisexual.

            But the language still didn’t feel right. Back then that word didn’t seem to include trans people, or people who might now describe themselves as nonbinary, and I knew I was drawn to them as well. So I chafed. Then I came across the word queer – as a word nerd I just loved the word itself, the sound and its history and its connection to Queer Nation – and that word felt big enough, broad enough, queer enough to include me and all I was interested in and attracted to.

On to faith.

I grew up unchurched but seeking (and with a strong Catholic bent thanks to my cultural background) – and then angrily atheist when at first I could not find a faith that made sense to me, and then again when it seemed Christianity had nothing but condemnation for me. For years I was happy to turn my back on organized religion – though not entirely on faith – only to first be turned upside down by multiple experiences I can only describe as mystical, and then the growing conviction that I needed to explore my faith within a community. So I started seeking again, reading, praying, and trying to find a welcoming church home in any of the cities I found myself during my twenties. And I’ll tell you, none were a great fit. In some I felt at home liturgically, but not as a queer person (and unbaptized to boot). In others I felt safe if not exactly welcomed, but my spirit was dissatisfied. Eventually I found a church home where both my partner at that time and I felt welcome and invited to contribute to the life of the church, and if my spiritual needs weren’t entirely met, it was made up for by that congregation’s place in New England transcendentalist history.

And then I moved. And I needed to find a new church home, which was complicated by my growing desire to be baptized – which I didn’t understand, but knew was important to listen to. I started my search again, and again didn’t find any place that felt right. In the end, as I was already working at Fourth Church – another decision that didn’t make sense at the time but felt like the right one – and it was as much a community as any I’d found, I decided to be baptized here and to become a member.

But it wasn’t enough. Quite aside from the serious lack of saints, there’s a world of difference between not feeling unsafe and feeling welcomed. And in 2004, still seven years before the PC(USA) would pass Amendment 10-A, and with the lack of any kind of visible effort to invite LGBTQIA+ folks in, I didn’t feel as if there was room for me to bring my whole self to the life of the church. So I continued my search, and ultimately found a smaller Episcopal church on the Northside, near where I lived, with a rainbow flag prominently displayed, and I have continued to worship there since.

So that is my coming out in faith, and I feel that the two are intimately connected. In part because both my understanding of myself as a queer person and as a person of faith are absolutely foundational to my understanding of myself. But also because I see these two journeys as parallel, not just intertwined. My thinking on faith continues to grow and change, and it’s important to me to have a church home open to that – and my queer identity continues to grow and change as well. For instance, in the last few years it’s become more important to me to claim myself as bisexual and not only queer. This has grown out of changing use of the word – as people insist on its inclusive nature rather than exclusive – and also the knowledge that the bisexual community, while statistically the largest component of the LGBTQIA+ community, has, with the exception of trans and intersex people, the worst health and domestic violence outcomes of that same community. So it’s become a kind of political act for me. And my understanding of gender continues to expand as well.

And with that I want to say something about language. It should be clear from my story that language is important to me. It should also be clear that language around sexual orientation and gender identity continues to evolve, sometimes very rapidly. For example, there are definitions on the vocabulary sheet we provided that I’m not wild about, and that’s only four years old. So while language is important and I think it’s hugely important to keep learning, I would encourage us to let go of expectations of getting it “right”, especially if that means we don’t dare say anything at all. Respect and openness are what’s most important – and then listening to what one is told and respecting that.

I imagine the question is out there – as a bi person in a heterosexual relationship – that is, I could “pass” – why come out? Why put myself out there? And my answer is twofold and also intimately connected to my faith.

First, I come out because I can. I’m secure within my family, my workplace, my church – I don’t risk anything by coming out other than other people’s opinion of me. By doing so, though, I may make it easier for others to do so, and I may also make it easier for others to advocate on our behalf. I live out my faith through service, and through trying to “be the change I wish to see in the world”. Coming out is one way I do this.

Second, if I don’t come out, if I keep some of myself back, then I lose opportunities to be of service, and I am not being who I believe God called me to be. For example, a year ago I was asked to lead a workshop at a women’s event at the Presbytery level. And I was flattered, and interested, but without knowing who would be there, and without being publically out, my gut feeling was “But you don’t know who I am, and I can’t trust that I will feel safe”. And I turned it down. I have faith that I have contributions to make in this world, and I don’t want anything to limit them, especially not my fear.

So that’s why I’m here, tonight, speaking to you all.

*I don't think I ever shared that with my parents before. Hi, Mom and Dad! 

Afterwards

It only just occurred to me that I didn't write any update here about the marathon. Probably because I didn't finish, and was okay with that, and had other things I was thinking about... But here's what I wrote to a friend who asked about it.

I haven't blogged yet, but when I do it won't be a play-by-play of the marathon as in the past - more a meditation on pain and privilege. Stuff I've been thinking about all season, actually.

This is what I wrote donors:

"If you were tracking me you'll know already that I didn't finish. I'd been in pain from the start and at mile 17 it was too much to continue and I dropped out. Nothing serious, just an unfortunate combination of long-term structural imbalances and unresolved past injuries - stuff I'd struggled with all season but just came to a head during the race.

      This experience has strengthened my resolve to "retire" from marathoning, so I'm especially grateful for a super-successful fundraising year - together we all raised over $1700 for Chicago Lights! (Or $100 for each mile I finished.)"

What made this year different (in terms of going on despite pain) is that 1) this year my back was hurting as well, and it was actually worse walking than running, and 2) I really didn't have anything to prove to myself or anyone else. Last year, once I realized I could continue, I wanted to keep going as long as I could. This year I realized the only way I could possibly continue was an extended break at the aid station, with no guarantee that I wouldn't have to stop again. And I decided that the pain was worse than my pride.

I'm putting a hold on marathoning, though oddly enough, the first half, despite being painful, went well. I kept an even pace and felt stronger than I had all year. But that made me realize how much I've missed that kind of racing (at distances of 15k - 13.1m), and how in the future, if I were to do a marathon again, I'd want to know I could run it that way - strong, steady, and able to push harder as I went along. But for that kind of running I would need to train for at least a couple of years - purposefully, eyes on the prize kind of training - and not until after I've gotten my shoulder and back taken care of. And honestly I don't want to train that hard, I have too much else I need to focus on.

So that's the marathon.

Some of what I plan to focus on - what I already am focusing on - is writing, and increasing my activism around anti-racism and trans rights. NaNoWriMo begins next week... *rubs hands*.

Still running though, I've been loving my short early morning runs in the dark, watching the sun begin to rise (it's still dark when I get back!) and seeing who else is up that early. A lot more people than you'd think.

Contentedly,
Annie

A Few Last Thoughts

Welp, the marathon is in less than a week. I'm as ready as I can be... which is to say I'm really not well trained for this one, but I'm in a better place for it than I was last year and I managed to finish then. So not feeling excited but also not feeling nervous... mostly curious. What will it be like? Each one has been so different.

You'll see plenty of articles talking about setting your A goal, B goal, and C goal for any race. Usually it has to do with time/pace but aside from a vague desire to finish under 6 hours that seems ridiculous for me this year. Here are mine:

A goal - Finish under 6 hours.
B goal - Stay present, be in the moment as much as possible.
C goal - Finish.

And now that I've written them down I see that my middle goal is really my first. At some point in doing these I realized that I can do them, I am physically capable of covering the distance. More than once, as a matter of fact. And so I think the reason I keep doing them (since goodness knows I'm not doing them faster each time) is for the experience of it. In which case my main goal needs to be truly experiencing it, to the best of my ability. All of it, including whatever might come up for me emotionally or mentally.

I think I need to take some time this week to meditate on this and set some intentions. :)

So, revised goals:

A goal - Be present and in the moment, with my thoughts/feelings and my surroundings.
B goal - Finish under 6 hours.
C goal - Finish.

Choosing my music will be a part of setting my intentions. I'm going to stay with what I've been running to all summer, these songs and rhythms have felt intensely personal in a way I'm not going to talk about here, but here's what I've been listening to:

Macklemore - "Genesis"
Michael Blume - EPs "When I Get It Right" and "cynicism & sincerity"
Bomba Estéreo - "Amanecer (Remixed)"
Nakhane Touré - "Brave Confusion"
Fania Studio - "Calentura: Global Bassment"

Plus a whole mess of singles I've found through Spotify over the last couples of months, a lot of club/dance/trance/trap and a lot of it fantastically queer, in all senses of the word.

And then, if I hit a point where I need to not be present for a while, I have episodes of The Adventure Zone lined up. (I don't know how to describe this, it's a live-action Dungeons & Dragons game, yes, but good grief it's so much more. And terribly, horribly funny. I can't actually listen to this while running - I keep stopping and laughing - this is for those times when I can't do anything but walk for a while.)

See you on the other side -
Annie

I'm Running A Marathon When?

Oh yeah, in less than a month.

Maybe time for some updates. Even some introduction for those who haven't followed my running before.

First of all, I'm running it because I like training for and running marathons. There isn't anything noteworthy or inspiring about this, this is just what I like to do. Some people travel, some people play video games, some people take intensive classes in their area of interest. I run long.

Second, I'm raising money for Chicago Lights as part of the process because it's an organization I hold highly, all the more so because I get to work so closely with staff. (Not closely in terms of my work but rather physically - my cubicle is surrounded by Chicago Lights staff and I get to hear all kinds of cool stuff that goes on behind the scenes and most people will never even know was a part of the process. But trust me, these programs are in good hands.)

(And if you'd like to contribute to my fundraising campaign - every bit helps! - you can do so here.)

As far as my actual training goes this summer it's been... okay. Better than last year for sure, I've been able to hit all my recent long runs. They've been hard, much harder than in the past, and I'm pretty sure that's because I haven't been getting my midweek mid-length runs in until recently. (All due to scheduling issues - especially the challenge of scheduling morning runs when both The Dude and I are training for this and have similar mileage ramp-ups.) And I had a couple of old injury flare-ups earlier in the summer where I had to back off  of training for a while - luckily that seemed to take care of those.

I think this will be my last road marathon for a while. (I know, I know, I've said that before.) I'm looking forward to more trail running, and also to regaining some speed by training for shorter races. This will be my fifth Chicago Marathon (plus my "rogue" marathon as The Dude likes to call it), and that seems like a good number to pause on.

But first... there's a twenty-miler coming up this weekend and then the insanity of taper. And then...!

Always take the ice bath,
Annie

Little More Action

Midday through summer, and marathon training is going well. I've had to shift my schedule around plenty between travel, work, and family, but I've hit all my long runs and all my speed workouts, so I'm feeling pretty solid. Guess it's time to start fundraising.

Writing is feeling more solid these days too. I signed up again for Camp NaNoWriMo, this time setting my goal in minutes rather than words, since I needed to revise and research and brainstorm above all else. That's been pretty consistent too, and I'm getting interested and excited again vs. just confused and overwhelmed.

My summer is heavily fueled by music, as always. Some familiar albums giving new energy -  Macklemore & Ryan's "The Heist", and Grimes' "Art Angels". Then albums new to me - "Calentura: Global Bassment" (remixes of classic Fania releases), and Bomba Estéreo's "Amamecer: Remixed". Fantastic electro grooves, perfect for digging into words or steps.

And very grateful for Spotify for introducing me to new stuff I would not have heard otherwise:

Mona Haydar's "Barbarian"

Madame Gandhi's "Top Knot Turn Up"

Lulu Be's "Rude Tings"

FAKA's "Uyang'khumbula"

Hope your summer is treating you well!
Annie

Where I Am

Well, I had been going to leave an update about my marathon training and about my writing since it's been a while since I posted on either... but then news about the detention centers broke and now SCOTUS and I'm just angry and grieving and have been angry and grieving. And am gearing up to go to small-town Ohio for our annual summer visit next week and having emotions about that.

So.

I don't write about politics here*, but I don't think it's news to anyone reading this that I am pro-immigration (actually pro-open borders but that's a conversation that's nowhere near happening in this or many countries), pro-choice, support Black Lives Matters, support trans rights, queer AF, and, oh yes, have a keen interest in science...

...while also a believer and seeker who worships and works in not one but two religious communities, even though my adherence to organized religion is often strained and my individual beliefs far from creedal.

Just so there's no question where I stand. ;)
Annie

And to leave you with something inspiring, 'cause I got nothing, not today...

Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble. - Rep. John Lewis

*I write devotions for work and find I am unable to keep my politics out of my Bible reading and thus reflection... but since we're not supposed to get political in those I find ways to veil it. Today's felt especially pertinent (and we write these weeks, if not months ahead of time), but I was apparently feeling more hopeful then than I am today.

Yup, Doing It Again

Marathoning, that is.

This time with The Dude (first time ever).

He's under the impression we're going to run it together... mhmm, we'll see.

But it's fun to plan together and share the process.

I am over the moon happy about training again. No really, the feels are too big for me to get down right now, I just... sigh. Happy happy.

(I'll try to get more coherent about it as we go through the summer, I can't just wave my hands around and squeak every time I talk about it.)

We'll be running it for Chicago Lights - me again, him for the first time. I'll get our fundraising info up soon.

And now to map out this week's long run!

Gleefully,
Annie

Paranormal Romance!

Ana Coqui from Immersed In Books has put together a 30-day list of romance novel recommendations, a different theme for each day. Friday's theme was paranormal, easily my favorite kind.

But I didn't see my favorites in that post or most of the Twitter comments that followed, and I didn't recognize most of the authors listed, so I thought I'd put together my own listing. Originally I was going to do it via Twitter but when I saw the number I'd accumulated... well, a blog post seemed more readable.

Some words about the books on this list:

• Most of these are m/m, with a few f/f, a few f/m, and some ménage.
• I'm always on the lookout for more writers of color and also for writers not from the US/Britain/Canada - I've marked these (WOC/INT) and welcome recommendations!
• There are some short stories/novellas on this list and I've noted those as well.
• There's some overlap with my list of ghost stories but not a lot. Most of those weren't romances.

There's disagreement about what constitutes paranormal vs. fantasy vs. science fiction, etc. As I think about it, a book is paranormal if people/beings are, or practice, magic (or abilities are so augmented as to appear magical to most people), and the world either feels like this one or outright references this one, whether in current times or historical ones (even if alt-historical). There are a couple of exceptions to this on the list and I've noted those too.

Finally, and this is so hugely subjective (as if this whole list weren't), but when it comes to shifter stories (persons who can shift from one form to another, ie. werewolves), I just don't seem to be able go much beyond coyote/wolf or dragon shifting. I don't know why. I know there's a universe of shifter stories out there beyond that but I haven't read many and don't feel compelled to. But with so much out there to read I'm not going to worry about this. (There's one exception on this list and I have noted that too!)

On to the books! Alpha by author. And, as usual with my lists, I'm not trying to review the books here. If it's on the list, I thought it was at least good enough to share. If you want more of my take on individual ones, I review almost everything I read on Goodreads (I'm not 100% caught up though.)

Charmed and Dangerous: Ten Tales of Gay Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy
A couple of my favorite authors (KJ Charles, Jordan L. Hawk, Jordan Castillo Price) and then an introduction to some new faves (Ginn Hale, Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling).

Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Astrid Amara, Ginn Hale
Recognize those new faves I mentioned?

Hell Cop 1 & 2
More stories by Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling, and Ginn Hale. These don't seem to be available any more, I don't know why.

The Druid Stone by Heidi Belleau & Violetta Vane

Light by 'Nathan Burgoine
He also has a paranormal trilogy that I've started and like a great deal so far, but I hesitate to call it a romance. As far as I've read, anyway.

Gail Carriger's Parasol Protectorate series, particularly the novellas at the end. The whole series is romantic in nature but the novellas are straight out romances.

Caroline's Heart by Austin Chant (novella)

K.J. Charles. Well. Obviously the Charm of Magpies series, but I think I like the Green Men series even more so far (counting The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal as a precursor to that series). Probably mostly because of the time period it's set in, but also the nature of the magic being explored and also the hints at conspiracy.

Elliot Cooper (stories)
     Clockwork Menagerie
     Hearts Alight
     Junk Mage (this is a mix of magic and sci-fi)

Sweet by Alysia Constantine

R. Cooper's Being(s) In Love series (mix of novellas, stories, and novels) and Familiar Spirits series (novellas). Have I already raved enough about her books in other posts? I'm not sure I can. I think you can read the first three of the Being(s) In Love books in any order and then they start building on each other - you don't have to read them in order after that but I'd suggest it. The Familiar Spirits novellas don't have to be read in order. Yet. I'm hoping for more in this line.

Beary Christmas, Baby by Sasha Devlin (WOC) (novella)
Polar bear shifter! And such a cutie. I definitely want more in this world.

Blind Man's Wolf by Amelia Faulkner. First in the Tooth & Claw series.

Kim Fielding's Bureau of Trans-Species Affairs series (novellas)

The Long Past and Other Stories by Ginn Hale. Magic and steampunk and dinosaurs. And you can hear her talk about the research that went into this book at The Hopeless Romantic (this is also a hilarious episode).

Alexis Hall's Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator series. Not available at the moment, but hopefully sometime again in the future. I originally checked the first one out from the library, so that's a possibility.

Jordan L. Hawk's Whybourne & Griffin series and Hexworld series. And they have more too (in particular a ghost series I very much want to read), but I haven't gotten to those yet.

Something to Remember by Elliott Junkyard (story). And there's a prequel to this, available free via his webpage, I believe.

The Lightning-Struck Heart by TJ Klune
Okay, this is straight-out fantasy. I include it here though because he has a number of paranormal books I just haven't gotten to yet, including a werewolf one that I know is going to rip up my heart. (Which is why I haven't read it yet... but I will.) I also include this one because it is flat out one of the funniest books I've read in a long time - crying, I was laughing so hard.

Half by Eli Lang

Shelly Laurentson's Call of Crows series. She has several other series as well, and I've looked at them, but... not for me. But I loved this one.

Out Of Her Depth by Pike Martell (story)

Lime Gelatin and Other Monsters by Angel Martinez (WOC) First in the Offbeat Crimes series.

Snare by Erin McRae & Racheline Maltese (novella)

Robin Moray's Bonded to the Alpha series (werewolves) and Something Wicked (witches). I think it's the same world in both so I'm looking forward to some resonance between them if not crossover. I came to this author from her BDSM novella series and was thrilled to see she writes paranormal as well.

The Better to Kiss You With by Michelle Osgood. First in the series.

E.E. Ottoman (novellas)
     Business Makes Strange Bedfellows
     Selume Proferre

Jordan Castillo Price's PsyCop series. She has more paranormal books and series as well, and I intend to read those too, but I'm still on this one so far.

Seducing Chaos by Luna Quinn (WOC)
This is the first in a planned series and I'm hoping the authors continue! I read the world as a future magical apocalyptical Earth, rather than a fantasy one, but I could be wrong about that.

Darkling by Brooklyn Ray

Water & Air by Janelle Reston (story)

Shatterproof by Xen Sanders (WOC) (also writes as Cole McCade)
I want to gush all over this but I haven't yet read the new edition (which has notable changes). Just. Go read this, and then go check out everything else he's written (but pay attention to his excellent content warnings).

RoAnne Sylver
     Stake Sauce
     Moon-Bright Tides (novella)

Holley Trent (WOC). So many books. So far I'm halfway through the HearthMotel, Afótama Legacy, and Norseton Wolves series (these all interweave). Trying to hold off on any of her other series until I've finished these three but I make no promises.

Better Off Red by Rebekah Weatherspoon (WOC). First in a series.

Close Quarter & Slow Waltz (this is a follow-up story to Close Quarter) by Anna Zabo

And then there are a few books that aren't romances as such but have such strong romantic elements (oh, the pining!) that I had to include them.

The Glamour Thieves by Don Allmon
Slouch Witch by Helen Harper
Amir Lane's Morrighan House Witches series

And, just because, Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya (INT). You know, if you like your slow-burn paranormal romance stretched out over 12 volumes.

And that is quite enough of that. Though I'll probably have another list equally long by this time next year.

Happy reading,
Annie

More Music to Enliven My Morning

One of the things I LOVE about running in the mornings again is listening to music in the mornings while I run. Here are some new (and one old) favorites of mine. 

Miguel, "Pineapple Skies" (from War & Leisure)

Mon Laferte (featuring Juanes), "Amárreme" (from La Trenza)

Macy Gray, "Sweet Baby" (from Stripped, her jazz album)

Janelle Monáe, "Make Me Feel" (from Dirty Computer)

Happy listening!

Annie

Surely I Never Said That

It's early (very early) days yet, but The Dude and I are thinking about marathon training together, for 2019. We'd do it with the Chicago Lights Marathon Team, the same fundraising team I've run with for my last two marathons.

I'm so excited. *big grin on my face, happy dance in my chair*

When The Dude told me he was thinking about it, I shot out of my seat.

"Let's do it together!"

Side-eye from him: "Didn't you say you were done with marathons?"

What?????
Me, say something like that???

(Okay, maybe I did...)

Ridiculously yours,
Annie

Ghost Stories

I've been thinking about ghost stories lately. Or rather, I was thinking about what are the kinds of books and stories I like to read (I was pulling together a list of recommendations for a friend), and as I did so I realized that I've read a lot of ghost stories.

And then I realized that a lot of my story/book ideas involve spirits of some sort. Or different ways of being haunted. Or communication with the dead. Or... ghosts, I guess. I had just never thought about it that way before. Huh.

Anyway, I thought I'd share some of my recent favorite ghost stories with you. These are in alpha order, short stories first, then books. With an essay in between!

Presque Vu - Nino Cipri, Liminal Stories
Old Habits - Nalo Hopkinson, Uncanny Magazine
Postcards from Natalie - Carrie Laban, The Dark Magazine
If A Bird Can Be A Ghost - Allison Mills, Apex Magazine
Twilight Travels with the Grape-Paper Man - Sara Saab, The Dark Magazine

How To Talk To Ghosts - R.F. Kuang, Uncanny Magazine (the essay)

I didn't offer any commentary on these because I find short stories are kind of like poetry for me in how I respond - there's either something I respond to immediately or there isn't. I thought all of these were lovely, all made me think, all of them pinged my heart.

On to the books!

Here I'm not going to comment (much) because these books give me SO MUCH FEELING and GOOD THINKING I wouldn't be able to contain myself. I'll just point out the level of romance / sexual explicitness so you know to avoid (or pick up).

KJ Charles, The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal
          Ah, I'm not sure how explicit this is? I don't remember. There is on-page sex, and there is a relationship between the main characters, but the book is not a romance, it's interconnected ghost stories. That will break your heart.

Alysia Constantine, Sweet
          Both a romance and explicit. (Warmish, not hot. Well, I suppose that depends on what you're used to.) And heart-breaking.

Stacia Kane's Downside Ghosts (Books 1-3)
          Again, I don't remember how explicit this is. The relationship develops over the course of the books but it wasn't the main focus of them, the mysteries were. For a long time I didn't realize there were more than the three books - the story line at the end of book 3 felt complete. I did later pick up book 4 but it didn't seem to be adding anything new to either the world or the characters so I stopped. But the first three were great.

Cassandra Khaw, Hammers On Bone
          Monsters meets film noir. Marvelous. Oh the language.

Amir Lane's Morrighan House Witches series
          There is also a prequel novella, Rise. Relationships, yes, sex, a little, not not not romantic. In a review I described the first book I read of these as a hot mess - but a compelling, winds around your mind and heart and throat kind of mess. I started these as e-books but then bought them in print so, mess or not, they clearly speak to me in some way.

And last but so very much not least, Jordan Castillo Price's Psycop series. Yes, a romance (and definitely sexually explicit), and also murder mysteries, and, as the series continues, possible conspiracy as well. Great characters who change and grow over the books.

Overall, a treasure of stories too good to save for Halloween.

And please pass on your recommendations!

Annie

It Must Be Spring, I'm Setting Goals

Even if it is currently snowing AGAIN.

I've gotten twitchy about setting goals publicly over the last year, especially ones to do with running, but things have been going well the last couple of weeks (slow, slow, but still improving) and I've begun to set my sights forward.

So I think I'm going to shoot for the Hot Chocolate 15K in November.

I've run this before and enjoyed the race. It's a good distance, at a good time in the year. No time goals this time around, I just want to be able to work up to that distance again and have a race on the calendar.

And in non-running goals, I've signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo this month. You may remember that National Novel Writing Month (November) is a world-wide writing challenge of 50,000 words for the month. Camp NaNoWriMo happens twice a year, in April and July, and you set your our challenge for the month, be it time spent or words or pages or even specific projects.

I've set my goal as 15,000 words for the month. I've done a lot of research and revising and transcribing over the last four months but very little new material in that time, and it's been hard to get started again. Excruciatingly hard. Then Camp NaNo came up in a couple of different Facebook groups I'm in - I hadn't even been aware of it prior to last week - and I thought this might be the challenge I need to get back into a regular writing (vs. revising/research) habit. So far it seems to be working. (Cross fingers.)

Hmm... perhaps I need to set some kind of challenge for myself for the garden?

Not happy about today's snow,
Annie

Music To Enliven My Monday

After watching NBC's "Jesus Christ Superstar" last night and having the music in my head every time I woke up, I needed to drive it out. (But Brandon Victor Dixon as Judas was amazing!)

FYI, none of these are videos, just the music.

Started with a little Jesse y Joy for the car ("Ay Doctor!")

Then, since I have the day off (one benefit of working for a church), I ran home after dropping the boys off at school and these came up on my iPod:

Stevie Wonder's "Signed Sealed Delivered" - this may be one of my favorite songs ever:

Neneh Cherry and The Thing's "Dream Baby Dream":

I used to have a playlist that I called "trance", just for long distance running, when I wanted to lose myself in something long and rhythmic. Then I realized I loved all those songs too much to just listen to them on long runs, and I mixed them into my usual running playlist. I got to see Neneh Cherry at Pitchfork a couple of years ago and it was one of my favorite performances ever. She didn't do this one, though, she wasn't performing with The Thing on that tour. This is another song that builds and builds and builds and then... just fades.

Then I finished out my run with "Despacito", but I won't share the clip for that, since I'm aware that some people have gotten tired of it by now (not me!) and there's no need to make it anyone's ear worm.

And then I wanted to share a new band for me, Bang Data. Apparently they did music for the TV show "Breaking Bad", but I'm always a few years (or more!) behind with TV. This is "El Pacino":

Now, since I'm home by myself, I can play Juan Gabriel and Lila Downs all day without anyone complaining.

With a song in my heart,
Annie

Some Good Short Things

Thought it might be time for some positive things, all short...

I've been running in the mornings again! Very short, and I have NO endurance, but even to want to get up early and run is a big deal. And oh, I love watching the sky at this time - when it's clear it's the most beautiful deep iris that slowly lightens - when it's cloudy might be even better, I love watching the clouds move across the sky, lighter streaks of blue across the dark that then catch the sun as it rises.

I've been reading some amazing short stories this winter - I'll do a list at some point with links and all - both speculative and romance. It's been hugely inspiring and has made my fingers itch - I have some ideas I want to explore that don't fit in any of the novels currently living in my head (plus right now I'm back in research mode but not writing is making me cranky).

One short grumble: After going several months of wondering why I wasn't falling asleep as well as I was used to I lined up dates and realized this had started at the same time as I started reading ebooks. Silly me, I've been careful with the kids about no screen time right before bed, and I don't get on the computer at night, but I didn't think about my tablet being a screen. So this week I've been trying out only reading print before bed and I've been sleeping better. Only problem - when the hell am I am supposed to get to those books that demand reading straight through?

Then a quick skim of the music in my head this morning:

Allen Toussaint - Brickyard Blues

Bomba Estéreo - Soy Yo

I missed Bomba Estéreo at Ruido Fest last year, but am planning to go this year - the lineup was just announced, with Panteón Rococó, Ana Tijoux, Kinky, Combo Chimbita just a few of the acts I want to see - so I am clearing my calendar for that weekend and putting together my pennies.

What's giving you life this week?

Annie

It's Been A Tough Week

I'm so glad to get to the end of this week.

Quick reminder: I did NaNo last year all by hand, and have spent the last three months transcribing those pages, researching, and editing - but I've had no new material (on that book at least). So I was excited to jump back in over my birthday mini-vacation... but no. And then not in the days after. I couldn't even get myself to try. Convinced I had nothing to offer and nothing I've written is in the direction I want to take it in anymore...

So this week I made myself start again. Just write something. Anything. For fifteen minutes at a time, that's all. I could do that, right?

Oh. my. God. So painful. It reminded me that writing truly is a muscle, one that has atrophied over the last three months, just as my running endurance has. But I made myself go on, moving pen over page. Dry, dull, though at least I ended each session knowing what was coming next... a series of sticky notes the breadcrumbs to get me started the next day. But nothing interesting or useful for a few days.

And then? Maybe a little glimmer of something interesting? Maybe only a marsh-light but still more than I had? I'll keep following it and see where I end up. But oh so daunting after having felt so sure of this in the fall.

And I need to read more of what I aspire to in my writing. Lately it's been a lot of escapist stuff (end of winter, y'all). I'm okay with that but it's not where my own writing lies.

My movement towards writing was interrupted a few days by a doozy of a migraine. Typically I get auras, maybe some pain - that's not too bad as I get older and especially not if I take something right at the start of the aura, and then a period of impaired thinking for a while after. Nothing horrible, I just can't focus well or think as easily or quickly as I'm used to. If it's a really bad one I might have some numbness around my mouth, but that hasn't happened in a while. Air pressure and hormones are the usual triggers for me, sometimes light. But seriously, my migraines are not usually a big disrupter in my life.

But Monday. Woah. Almost as soon as I woke up the aura was on me and I could tell it was going to be serious. I didn't realize it would be so trippy. Memories, memories of dreams, memories within dreams, random sense impressions all colliding together, even as I was getting myself and the kids dressed and moving towards school. As if my brain was bifurcated and all that was happening on a second level. I could focus on what needed doing immediately, but only that - no planning, thinking ahead, decision making. The kids were asking questions (and both talking at once, as usual) and I had to let them know I wasn't going to be able to explain anything to them or answer anything not relating to right in front of me, right now. Got them to school (did not drive, we took the train), and then came home to cancel phone meetings and let my boss know I would not be coming in, then spent the rest of the day on the couch reading - if I was going to be in an alternate head space I wanted it to at least be a cohesive world something one created, rather than the fragments of mine I was experiencing and didn't know if I could trust.

Things mostly cleared by mid-afternoon but I was wiped out by then and still not certain of my thinking. I went into work the next day but only lasted a couple of hours before another aura started and I headed back home, though it was nothing near as painful or strange as the day before. And the rest of the week has been trying to recover from all that, going to bed earlier, drinking more water, trying to eat well. I'm still feeling a little fragile though not horribly so.

I don't know what triggered this - it's been maybe twenty years since I've had a migraine this bad. But I'm not counting out the news that exploded in the queer romance world.

It's been awful. I suspect the majority of readers of this blog know nothing about this and I'm not going to try to explain. The rest of you either know all about it or are Russian bots, based on my stats. But it's just been... ugh. Vile behavior from an author exposed, which then led to the exposure of awful behavior from an editor and a publisher - all of whom had power in this corner of the writing world, the corner I consider home.

I have no skin in this - I'm just a little fangirl over on the sidelines who dreamed of maybe someday submitting something to that publisher because they were the first queer romance press I encountered back when I was all *starry eyed* THIS EXISTS?! Since then I'd heard enough murmurs about that publisher and encountered enough other presses to be over my hero-worship but it still feels rotten to see what's been exposed (and what's been unleashed afterwards as people find out and react all over the place). All the more so because an author I truly admire and had some exchanges with was at the center of exposing things, and my heart hurts for him and everyone else who has been hurt by Riptide and Sarah Lyons and the people going by the name Santino Hassell.

Some good is coming from this, thankfully, I've seen more lifting up of authors of color in the past week than before and there have been some amazing outpourings of generosity and effort across Romancelandia to the authors affected by all this, but... ugh. Shit shouldn't have had to happen for growth to occur.

But hey! Aren't our teenagers amazing! (Speaking of something else that shouldn't have had to happen...)

Sad and tired and wanting to put my arms around the world,
Annie