May Days

Now that the threat of frost has finally passed, I'm enjoying lots of spring flowers that I've been able to cut and bring indoors. I'm hoping for a bigger and better cutting garden this year. I've planted more lilies, dahlias, snapdragons, and gladiolas. A few of the perennials I planted last year have already tripled in size, offering up more blossoms for bouquets. 

Spring at the nursery has begun to ease up just a bit. We’ve hit the peak of busyness, and we’re beginning to coast downhill. While I look forward to feeling less frantic (and having Sundays off again), I know I’ll soon miss those spring days where there’s always something that needs to be done as opposed to the slow summer season, standing in one spot most of the day deadheading and trimming back plants. The inactivity gives me more time to live in my head, which is a scary place to be sometimes. But it could also be an opportunity to ruminate on things I’ve written or want to write and ways to better to tell my stories. 

I have some good news and bad news today. The bad news is that I won’t be staying in that lovely beach house in Mexico again next winter. The good news is that Tim and I are in the process of purchasing a beachfront condo in the same town, Chelém Mexico! We looked at our options for beach houses in the area. They were either too far back from the beach with too few windows or in need of major repairs. This is a new building with five units. Four condos are downstairs. The second floor is all one unit. This is the one we have purchased. The living/dining/kitchen area is open, and there are floor to ceiling windows from one end of the room to the other. We get to keep a lot of the furniture, but Tim and I can’t wait to spend some time there this summer making the place our own. We just signed the contract on Friday, so we haven’t officially closed yet. Tim flew down last month to check things out before we made an offer, so I have a few pictures (and one I stole from the listing) to share. I’ll have plenty more when we’re both able to go back in a couple of months. Our plan is to rent it out every year from March to December, then I’ll live there through January and February. So get your passports ready; I’ll share a listing once the property is available for rent.

In other news, I just got my second vaccine today, which means that 3 out of 4 McKays are fully vaccinated!! We all got the Pfizer vaccine. Tim had a low-grade fever and felt a little puny afterwards. Pierce didn’t seem to have any ill effects. I have my fingers crossed that I’ll feel fine tomorrow. 

I’m still writing and editing. The editing process is slow and tedious. If you were hoping to see a book from me this year, I think it’s safe to say that it will not be published in 2021. But the longer this takes, the better the book will be. K.K. is helping to make my pretty good stories into great stories. I’m excited about what we’ve accomplished. I have 5 essays I can consider as final drafts. My editor suggested I try getting some of them published, so I’m submitting my writing for publication again. It could be months before I hear whether or not my essays have been accepted, and I can only get those one or two yeses by pitching to a lot of people. This work isn’t fun, and it will be tough to add to the pile of rejection letters again. But my editor and I think that getting these essays published will help my cause in getting a complete manuscript published some day. 

That’s my Spring 2021 update. Get outside! Get vaccinated! 

Clarity

I feel the need to clear the air this morning. I may be writing this blog post with a few people in mind, but my message is for the entire reading world. It  seems like common sense, and yet, this need to be addressed.

One event, a single moment in time, will be perceived in as many different ways as there are people sharing the experience of that event or moment. If you don’t believe this, read some consumer reviews of movies, books, or products on Amazon. If another person’s experience differs from yours, does this mean one of you is lying? Most of the time the answer to that question is no. It is also possible for two conflicting statements to be true about a single experience. Though I write about one aspect of my story, it is not a complete picture. For example, I may write about the undiagnosed anxiety I had as a child, but this does not mean that I had an awful childhood. I can write about my struggles with faith and church, but this shouldn’t imply that I’ve rejected Jesus or Christianity. 

There was an episode in season two of This Is Us that really stuck with me. Kevin, the typical middle child, was in rehab, and his therapist had the whole family come in to one of his therapy sessions. His mother and siblings seemed blindsided by Kevin’s interpretation of the upbringing he received. Four people in that room grew up in the same house, and four people saw those same years together in four very different ways. Our family is no different. My sister and I did not see the events that happened in our home in exactly the same way. And the version of my story I have to tell does not resemble that of my parents.

Most of the stories I’ve written center around depression, marriage, faith, and parenting both of my children; one of whom is typical and one of whom is autistic. Since my battles with anxiety and depression began as a child, I’ve included a few stories about my childhood. I also write about my extensive family history of depression and suicide. I’ve worried about hurting people with my writing. An author friend of mine told me, “Just write your version of the truth. That’s all you can do.” I can only promise not to inflate or fabricate details. I will tell you about my emotions, my take-aways, my memories. These essays are my stories. 

There are family members that have forbidden me from writing about the important roles they played in my life. I do not believe this is a reasonable request. I did not live these stories in a bubble. It is impossible to tell my stories without mentioning other people that played a part in shaping those stories. No one owns the exclusive rights to a life experience shared by multiple people. No one family member owns the exclusive rights to a shared family history. I have consulted a lawyer on all the steps I need to take in order to protect myself from liability. It grieves me to have to do so. It doesn’t have to be this way, especially since I don’t seek to vilify anyone. If any family wants to write their stories and their perspective of our shared experiences, I will not stand in their way. Even if their stories paint me in a less-than-flattering light.

I say all of this because my words are already being twisted and misinterpreted. I am not an atheist. I was not physically or sexually abused as a child. I’m appalled and dumbfounded that anyone has come to these conclusions after reading my blog posts. My book is not a tell-all exposé. It barely even registers as controversial. I’m annoyed that I have just started the editing process, nowhere near to having a published book in my hands, and yet here we are, addressing the inevitable backlash. 

As I design my new space for writing/reading/crafting/solitude, I have found prints on Etsy of some of my favorite quotes. This one arrived a few days ago. It will hang over my desk. I leave you with this.

One Step Closer

Spring has arrived, which means I am transitioning into survival mode. I’m working six days a week, and my days are a blur of plant deliveries and customers’ questions. Any spare time at home in the evenings and on my one day off are dedicated to writing and editing. I know a few of you actually look forward to my weekly blog posts on Mondays, which I appreciate. For the next few months, these posts will be less frequent. 

Last Monday, I didn’t have time for a blog entry, so I wrote a rather lengthy Facebook post. If you missed it, I shared some news. I am working with an editor! It’s a small step towards having a book published, but I’m excited about this development. Your comments on that Facebook post made me teary. It’s so heartwarming to know how many of you are celebrating with me and believe in me. I sent the first essay to my editor last week, and I received her feedback on Saturday. This, too, made me pretty weepy. It’s one thing to hear praise of my writing from friends and family. But to make an editor say, “Wow. Well done.”, and see adjectives like “fascinating”, “compelling”, and “moving” attributed to something I wrote was thrilling. The essay wasn’t perfect; she had suggestions for how to tell the story better. But since I felt this nagging possibility I’d receive feedback indicating that my story was hot garbage, I was over the moon when I read this email. We have scheduled weekly Zoom calls on Mondays. Today I learned a lot about how to make a good story even better. I can’t wait to use this knowledge to improve my other essays.

I’ve spent many years listening to people who focus on my shortcomings and things I shouldn’t do instead of using that energy to recognize and nurture my talents. This has made it difficult for me to accept praise when I’ve done something right. No matter how many people tell me I’m a good writer, I will always have this deep-seated belief that I’m not good enough. I crave hearing “Well done” (even though I sometimes find the praise hard to believe), and I really hate this about myself. If this writing gets out into the world, I know I will have to develop a thicker skin. In my 40s, I’m learning the hard way that I can’t please everyone. While I hope my book makes its way to people who will find solidarity within my stories, I am aware of this reality: my essays are guaranteed to piss some people off, and bore other people to tears. Knowing this doesn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. 

I am so very grateful for those of you who are in my corner, whether you’ve always been there or arrived just recently. Thank you for your words of encouragement. Some days, they’re the only thing that spurs me on.

Not Write Now

For the past 2 days, I’ve had the privilege of reading Praying With Our Feet by Lindsey Krinks. Lindsey and I both ended up in Nashville, though we both grew up in the same small church in South Carolina. In fact, my summer job for 2 years in high school was babysitting Lindsey and her brother Russell, which does not make me feel old at all. 

While much of our stories are so very different, there are a couple things we have in common. Both of us were Church of Christ elder’s daughters. Both of us have family histories of addiction, depression, and suicide. I feel a kinship with Lindsey as she describes the confinement of her faith because of the limitations placed on women in our church. I identify with her fear of falling victim to a family curse. 

I know it has been difficult for her to publicize this book, as she is such a selfless person. She is a modern-day Mother Theresa loving on, advocating for, and ministering to the homeless and marginalized here in Nashville. I will plug her book, but I also encourage you to support Open Table, a non-profit organization who’s goal is to end poverty, support the marginalized, and educate others on issues of homelessness. 

This afternoon, I participated in a workshop through The Porch (via Zoom) where Lindsey was able to talk a little bit about her experiences with the publication process. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve been home from Mexico for 2 weeks, and I’m beginning to slide into a funk. I felt like my head was in such a good space, and I was accomplishing so much with my writing and editing. Now that I’m home, I am stalling out. I tried to sit and write today, and I just couldn’t find my groove. I am frustrated and discouraged. I know places aren’t magical, that my body doesn’t physically need to be in Mexico for my brain to be able to write. But my loss for words is making me panic. Will I have to wait until next January to get them back? Will I EVER finish and have something worth publishing? 

Just hearing Lindsey talk about how isolating and challenging the writing process can be, gave me a sense of solidarity. Knowing that someone else has navigated through the same emotions I’m feeling right now is a comfort. I think I need more of this. I need support and resources. I need a writing community. I need to know this funk isn’t permanent. 

Spring in the gardening industry is a vortex of chaos, but I MUST find ways to nurture this skill/desire/outlet of mine. Now that our downstairs renovation is mostly done, there’s a new bedroom for Reagan to use when she’s in town. This will allow me to turn her old bedroom into a writing space. It’s not Mexico, but I will cherish and work with the room I’ve been gifted. I hope some of my words will be able to find me in there.

International Women's Day

WARNING: Curse word ahead

Today is International Women’s Day. I’ve spent the last month making edits and additions to stories about my experiences as a woman growing up in a conservative church and home, so this topic is fresh in my mind. Yesterday, I discovered an inflammatory video of a Baptist preacher instructing women on what their husbands expect from them. Year after year, when these misogynistic messages are discovered anew, I am shocked and angry. Frankly, I’m SO tired of saying “It's (insert year here), and the church is STILL feeding us this bullshit.” Since the #metoo movement began a few years ago, more and more women are taking a stand and calling people out. The church is not immune from this trend.

Church, you are losing your women. In a society striving for equality, the more you push messages that marginalize women, you will continue to loose us. It took this horrible video, posted by a woman in that congregation, going viral for the church to pressure this pastor into taking a leave of absence to “receive counseling”. THIS is the aspect that angers us women the most. If millions of people hadn’t seen the video, how much longer would this church have let him continue to tell women that Godly wives don’t “let themselves go” by gaining weight and wearing sweatpants with flip flops? How many men in that church would keep giving their OK on these kinds of sermons from this pastor because they also believe that their women should strive to be “trophy wives”, or at least aim for the “participation trophy?” All the things I’ve put in quotation marks are words the man actually said, by the way. I refuse to share the video, but it shouldn’t be hard for you to find. 

Women in the church, me included, have been psychologically damaged by the purity movement, that shamed and devalued women if they had premarital sex. Women have felt like second-class citizens when our daughters are told they can only speak up at church if they’re in a basement with an all-female audience. Women have had to shoulder enormous guilt if they don’t strive to be mothers (or can’t be mothers) because “That’s what the Bible commands of all women!” Women have been pressured to live up to the Proverbs 31 woman, because it is God’s ideal woman. Women have been told their physical needs pale in comparison to those of their husbands, who need sex constantly because God made them that way. Women have endured years of physical abuse from the hands of their husbands when the church tells them to stick with it, because they don’t have scriptural grounds for divorce.

Women are SO TIRED. Church, you MUST do better. For those people that plan to come at me with scripture that backs up your belief of keeping women silent, trust me, as a Church of Christ elder’s daughter, I HAVE HEARD THEM ALL. I will not hear them today, so save your breath. 

Next time I post, I will hopefully have some much happier thoughts to share. I just needed to get this stuff out of my head. 

Melissa, out.

Winter Sabbatical 2021: Week 6

TRIGGER WARNING!

I’m aware of my Nashville friends currently under a blanket of ice, with temps below freezing until Thursday. Some of you may be hating me right now. If you need to take a pass on viewing my pictures or reading my update today, I totally understand. 

First off, I want to wish Reagan a very happy 20th birthday! Her plan to celebrate yesterday was cancelled due to the weather. I’d hoped she might get a few inches of snow for her birthday today, but it looks like more ice is on the way. My guys both had man-dates on Saturday; Tim at a friend’s house and Pierce with his buddy at a Best Buddies Valentine’s party. Pierce made me a couple of Valentines. It was hard being away from Tim on Valentine’s Day, but we managed to work around the separation. 

I went to the Gypsy Market on Thursday and saw lots of beautiful things. Since I was on foot, I was limited to what I could carry in my backpack. I purchased 2 pieces of Mexican pottery for the garden, a hand painted mask, and a Mayan wooden puzzle box. 

The temperatures were pretty mild when I arrived in January, but the days are steadily heating up. I’ve gone outside to get sunshine a couple times a day. I continue to write and edit. I have a tentative book title in mind, and I’ve written what could be an introductory chapter. We shall see. 

I’ll keep it brief today so I can get back to writing. Stay safe and warm, Nashville!

Winter Sabbatical 2021: Week 5

It’s been a pretty chill week. While I go the the Farmer’s Market and do other grocery shopping for the week on Mondays, my Tuesday-Friday schedule has been pretty consistent: Wake up, walk on the beach while listening to a book or podcast, update journal, work out, eat breakfast, write or edit, eat lunch, write or edit, walk on the beach while listening to book or podcast, write or edit, shower, Netflix or read, dinner, Netflix, bed. I’m spending about 4 hours a day writing new material or editing old stuff. Saturday and Sunday are spent reading on my back porch, listening to the ocean, boats, and people on the beach. Today, I was told about the “Gypsy’s Market” that takes place every 2nd Thursday of the month, in the same location as the weekly Farmer’s Market. It’s hard to think about another 5 mile walk this week, having just completed my Monday trip. But there will be handcrafted items like jewelry and art, and this could be a welcomed change of scenery in a couple days. If I go, you’ll be sure to hear about it. 

In case you missed my Facebook post last week, I love this house so much, I’ve already booked it for January and February 2022! This place has been SO much better for me than Miami was last year. When I get back, I’ll have to start playing the lottery so I can buy a Mexican beach house of my own some day. Or I could just save the money I’d spend on tickets and put them in my beach house fund. It may take me 20 years to get that piggy bank filled up. I only have a couple of pictures this week. After 5 weeks here, I continue to be amazed at the piles of empty and perfect conch shells littering the beaches. I’m not much of a shell collector, so I leave them for others. I continue to find a few pieces of sea glass every day. I don’t think I can carry 10 pounds of glass home with me, so before I go, I’ll have to weed out all of the less than perfect pieces. I’ve been watching more Netflix:

-The Crown (Season 4)

-The History of Swear Words 

-Community (Seasons 1 and 2)

-Evil Genius

-Don’t F*** With Cats 

-The Keepers

-The Staircase. 

Yes friends, I am the stereotypical middle age white woman who’s fallen down the murder porn rabbit hole. Since Tim detests true crime shows, I’m binging them while I can. Shouldn’t this creep me out since I’m living here alone? Maybe, but it doesn’t. I watch a couple episodes of Community to lighten up the mood before bed.  I’ve also finished a few more books:

-Willa’s Grove by Laura Munson

-Draft No 4 by John McPhee

-The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

-Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

-On Writing by Stephen King

-Planting Native by Sharon Sorenson

Most of you know I make an effort to praise what I love and avoid trashing what I hate. I only enjoyed reading the last 3 books on that list, and the King and Lamott books were rereads. I forced myself through the John McPhee and Annie Dillard books about writing. I fail to see why these books are so highly regarded. McPhee had a few nuggets of wisdom, but I had to wade through lots of name dropping, reminders on every other page that he’s written for Time magazine and The New Yorker, and such long-winded setups of his stories I forgot what aspect of writing he was trying to illustrate. I mean, the man wrote an article for The New Yorker on oranges that was 40,000 words long…and was indignant that the editor had the audacity to remove 85% of the story to make it fit in that week’s issue. GET TO THE POINT, MAN. Dillard believes writing is a painful, arduous, and miserable process. I kept thinking, “Then why do you write? Why don’t you do something that makes you happy?” In Dillard’s opinion, not only is writing excruciating, there are very few brave souls who should accept the challenge, she being one of them; oh how she suffers for her art. I’m sorry, but how is this supposed to inspire me? What makes you believe you’re chosen for this profession and that the rest of us shouldn’t even bother? 

Lamott and King may not be elite literary scholars, but they’ve sold millions of books, so they’re obviously doing something right. They both acknowledge that most of us could write, and lots of us may even be good at it. Though most of us will never get a book deal, just the act of putting pen to paper can be fulfilling enough if we love to write and desire to learn how to make our words soar off of the page. I have no time for writers who make me feel like I’m a worthless piece of poop pursuing a fruitless endeavor. I’ll take my advice from people who know they don’t corner the market on being published writers and are eager to help us join their club. 

I am stepping down from my soapbox now and going for a walk on the beach.