Personal Essays

Write a poem in 250 characters or less! (Or, let me tell you about my impostor syndrome.)

/ Katie / 11 Comments

Last year, I wrote a poem for Button Poetry’s Short Form Contest. I liked the poem I wrote, though it didn’t win. It later became “Unrequited,” and I’m quite proud of it.

As of last year, I’d never entered any of my creative writing into any contest, ever. Not even in college, when I sat on the editorial board of a literary magazine and could have easily, albeit not entirely fairly, included one of my pieces in the publication. (I wouldn’t have done that. I promise.) I’ve always been timid about my own work.

I realize that I have major impostor syndrome. I’ve never published anything, and I’m terrified to submit my writing to agents and publishers. I’m always far more impressed with what I read from others than with what I write myself. I feel, often, like my creative work is clunky, dull, trite, and uninspired. Not always, but often. It can be discouraging, maddening, and sometimes, debilitating.

To be clear, I’m not looking for sympathy. I think this is a battle many creative people fight every day. Some days, I win. Some days, I…stare at a blank screen and procrastinate and (not infrequently) cry, and I definitely don’t win. But on the good days, when everything comes together, I feel like I’ve made magic, and that keeps me working – through the fear, through the doubt, through the impostor syndrome. And I see that you can’t be an impostor in your own life.

The Short Form Contest requires a submission of 250 characters or less. That’s characters, not words. It can be a poem on its own, or an excerpt from a larger piece. When I discovered the contest last year, I felt…I don’t know, compelled to enter. 250 characters? I wouldn’t feel that bad being rejected over 250 characters. Very few people can do something amazing with 250 characters, right? And so, I entered the contest, knowing my poem wouldn’t be selected, and I felt good. It felt amazing just to put something out there.

So, I entered again this year, with a poem inspired by one of my mom’s favorite books, Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. (I’m helping my mom start her own business, and she was on my mind.)

I like my poem less than last year’s, but I put it out there, because why not? And I feel good. Maybe I’ll enter some other contests this year, or even submit work to some publications or agents. Maybe this is the year. We’ll see, and until then, I’ll keep writing. I hope, if you’re struggling, you keep writing (or creating whatever you create), too.

Oh, and if you want to read the poem I submitted this year, here it is. Enjoy!

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You should have known

I am more than the wings you tried to clip

I am more than meant to fly

You should have known

I am too much to trap and tether

and you are too small to try

Seagull 6

Share Your Shakespeare

/ Katie / 5 Comments

“Shakespeare – the nearest thing in incarnation to the eye of God.” –Laurence Olivier

Books

I got my first book of Shakespeare’s plays in middle school.  I won’t pretend that I could actually read them, but they waited for me.  The best stories do that.  And Shakespeare told the best stories.

When I was in high school, I had the opportunity to play Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  I’d like to think I did well.  Whether I did or not, I enjoyed just being able to take part in a little piece of Shakespeare’s world.

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Yeah, that’s me, in high school, trying to claw out Helena’s eyes.  I’m not sure why the guy behind me is wearing an M&M shirt.  High school’s a strange time.

In college, I decided to study literature, and read a paper at a Shakespeare conference at the Virginia Military Institute.  My paper…did not win, but again, I felt fortunate to just be involved.

I still read Shakespeare.  Pretty frequently, in fact.  I’m not going to wax poetic about Shakespeare’s influence on…well, everything…because I don’t know that I could cover it all in one blog post.  I think the most wonderful thing about Shakespeare’s body of work is just how interdisciplinary and universal it is – there’s something for the readers, the psychologists, the sociologists, the historians, the philosophers, and, of course, the actors.  There’s even a little something for the conspiracy theorists.  There’s a reason Shakespeare is still with us, hundreds of years after his death and several evolutions of our language later.  Very few writers observe and capture so well all of the best and the worst of humanity.

And so, today, on the day that we celebrate the birthday of the Bard, and in the spirit of the theatre, revelry, and bringing literature to life – and embracing our own flawed humanity – here’s my Shakespeare:

I probably should have warned you that I’m no actor.  But, come on, everyone recites Shakespeare when they drink wine, right? RIGHT?!  Anyway, you don’t have to be a great actor to enjoy Shakespeare.  He gave all of us plenty to love, whether we experience it on the stage or on the page.

And there’s something comforting about knowing that long after I’m gone, and hopefully this video is, too, Shakespeare will still be here.

This One’s for John

/ Katie / 2 Comments

My heart hurts today.

When I try to think of something to say about the passing of John Prine, I’m honestly lost for words.  Which is funny, because he certainly never was.  I don’t think we can overstate the importance of his music to the story of American songwriting.  I don’t think there will ever be another one quite like him.  I don’t think the world will ever be the same, now that he’s not in it.

If music comes to us when we need it most, then I’ve needed John Prine my whole life.  His songs have stayed with me since I first heard them, when I was too young to really understand them.  Now I’m in my thirties, and I still listen to them, sing them, think about them, every single day.

And when my dad and I play, we always play some Prine.

So, this one’s for John.  Thank you for everything.  I hope you’re exactly where you wanted to be.

Beginnings and Endings

/ Katie / 6 Comments

For many people, and for me, most years, January is the time for new beginnings.  My January started with an ending.

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Betty Lou McGhee Osborne, October 4, 1929 – January 14, 2020

This is a picture of my sweet grandmother as a teenager.  I like this one, because she’s smiling, and she always hated pictures of herself and never really smiled in them.  I would give just about anything in the world to see her smile again.

Losing my grandmother is hard enough.  Knowing that I’ve now lost my last grandparent is jarring, overwhelming, weird, and sad.  It’s like losing pathways in my life.  It’s an odd, sort of melancholy feeling, knowing that roads you’ve always taken, houses you’ve always visited, rooms you’ve slept in, kitchens you’ve eaten in, hills you’ve always known, are lost to you now.  Sure, you can go back to visit, but you’ll never go back in the same way.  You’ll never go back and find home.

So, where do I go from here?  Lots of people have asked this question, I’m sure, and I know I’m lucky to be asking it in my thirties, and not any sooner.  But you never really have enough time with the people you love.

Writing now, suffering through my second horrible upper respiratory infection of the season, pondering loss, I’m quite glad to say goodbye to January 2020.  See you again never, you shameless bully.

I know there are brighter days coming, and I’ve made lots of plans.  Sometimes, you just have to keep going with pieces missing.  Every beginning has an ending, and sometimes, you just have to start there.

Hello again, world!

/ Katie / Leave a comment

It’s good to be back!

I haven’t written on this blog in a long time.  What can I say?  Life gets busy.  Priorities change.  Blah, blah, blah….  But if you’re here reading now, I doubt you want to plod through a bunch of excuses.  So, I’ll just say, I’ve not written on this blog in a long time, and this year I’m going to start writing in it again.

If you’ve followed before, thank you!  And I hope you stick around, because things are going to change a little (which my mother tells me is healthy and not something to be afraid of).  If you’re new, welcome!  I’m glad you’ve stopped in and I hope you sit a spell and stay a while.  For everyone, as we start a new and exciting writing journey together, here are a few (ten – a nice, even number) things you should know about me, because I’ll be writing about them.

I’m a Virginia girl.  1,000%, born and raised and (probably) never leaving.  I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains near coal fields and cow fields and never too far away from a good plate of biscuits and gravy.  My grandfather was a coal miner, my dad plays bluegrass, my mom fries chicken, and I can flatfoot ‘til the cows in the fields come home.

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My husband is pretty awesome.  We’ve been married for five years, and the theme of our Virginia-chic wedding was “Beach Boy Meets Mountain Girl.”  He takes good pictures and he drives dirt roads like a champ.  Our pets are also pretty cool.  We have a crazy dog and a 20-pound cat.  They’re not friends, but they seem to like us okay.  I ask Graham at least once a day when we can get a couple of goats.  And maybe a pony.  And a pot-bellied pig.

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We live in a 200-year-old house.  When I tell people this, they usually either gush about how cool that is or ask how much work that is.  It’s both cool and a lot of work.  We consider ourselves stewards, not residents, and we feel a tremendous sense of responsibility to give this house the care and attention it deserves.  Which is a lot.  #oldhouselife

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I read.  I don’t just like to read.  I consider it a really vital part of who I am.  I think words are their own special kind of magic – authors take a blank page and create something that didn’t exist before.  I usually read over 100 books in a year.  I’m particularly fond of Neil Gaiman, and if I could bring an author back from the dead, it would be Mark Twain.  Or Shakespeare.  Or maybe Chaucer.  Or Vonnegut.  Yeah, no, I can’t pick just one.

I write.  Duh.  You’re here, on my blog, reading a post that I’ve written.  I’m working on a couple of novels, I write for a local publication, and I’ve also been known to write an occasional poem or song.  Usually when I’ve had a little too much wine.

I also sing.  My whole family does music.  I’ve been told by several of my relatives that I was singing before I could talk.  I obviously can’t attest to the veracity of this claim, but I’m inclined to believe it.  I started out doing country, moved on to musicals and then to studying opera, and now I’m back to country (real country – Dolly Parton is my spirit animal), with some bluegrass, folk, and Americana in the mix, as well.  When my dad and I play together, we call ourselves “Rum and Wine.”

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I’m a big advocate for historic preservation.  I live in a historic village that’s situated minutes from new neighborhood development in Loudon County.  Living in a part of the country that’s at risk for major over-development of monotonous monopoly houses and suburban sprawl, I firmly believe in preserving historic structures and natural areas.  I think they’re a valuable, essential part of any community and we’re all better off for appreciating them.

I’m a good cook.  My kitchen is tiny, and I think I’m proof that a big kitchen isn’t necessary to cook a good meal.

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My last big project was dumplings.  201 dumplings, more precisely.  Hand-mixed filling, hand-crimped wrappers, and fried in batches of eight.  It was…an experience.

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I really love to incorporate local ingredients, especially local booze.  And speaking of booze…

I love wineries, breweries, and cideries.  And luckily, living where I do, I’ve got lots of choices.  On weekends, I’m always out exploring new places with my husband and our friends.  Virginia wine has come a really long way in a short amount of time, and I think that’s worth celebrating.

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Adventure is everything.  Life is too short to sit at home, and the world is too big and too interesting to not see.  I like exploring, I like learning new things, I like meeting new people, and I believe that an adventure can be as big or as small as you want it to be.  For those of us with itchy feet and empty wallets, it’s important to keep perspective – there’s plenty to experience right outside the front door.

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On that note, our next big adventure starts in two days!  Iceland, 2019!  (Booked on points, because I make stories, not money.  If you’ve been, please send recommendations for what we should do!)  I will be posting about it, so if you’re interested, keep an eye out.  And, you know, generally, stay tuned for more.  You can also follow me on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/myvirginiadiary/), Twitter (@VA_Writer), and Instagram (@virginia_writer).

Cheers, friends, new and old, to new stories and new adventures!

Newspaper Memories

/ Katie / 1 Comment

When I graduated from college, I knew two things:

  • I had a degree!
  • I had no idea what to do with it…

I’d spent the last three years devoting myself to reading and writing, and I’d earned my bachelor’s degree in English a year early and with honors.  In college, I was “the wunderkind.”  My professors respected my work and encouraged my curiosity.  Out of college, I was a twenty-year-old kid with a lot of debt and no real job experience.

I wasn’t scared for my future. I had an abundance of confidence, but not cash.  So I did what any slightly lost, mostly broke kid would do:  I applied to every job for which I was even marginally qualified.  Thankfully, a couple of employers took a chance on me.  One of those employers was the local newspaper – a freelance gig, sure, but a chance to get my name out there and make money doing something I loved.

Growing up in the theater had cured me of shyness, and college had taught me to write well and concisely (and quickly, if I had to).  Writing for a newspaper – interviews, deadlines, etc. – was a natural fit and I loved it immediately.  Talking to people and writing about it didn’t feel like work.  Having the opportunity to meet people in my community and share their accomplishments was a privilege.

My first article was about a sweet elderly lady who made prayer bears and prayer flowers for grieving families and families whose loved ones were in the hospital.  In the fall of 2007, I sat with her for a couple of hours in her living room.  I’d prepared questions, but the conversation was so easy and so honest, I didn’t need them.  As I was packing to leave, she made me a set of my own prayer flowers, and prayed for my health and success.

From there, I met with a 97-year-old ham radio operator and we talked about the days when radio was new and exciting.  To her, it still was.  I interviewed two little boys who decided to grow out their hair and donate it.  They wanted to honor their grandmother, and they didn’t care at all that people said they looked like girls.  I walked around a hospital and spoke to volunteers who often came home utterly exhausted and still wondered if they could do more.  I spent an afternoon with a church youth group as they were preparing for a mission trip.  For many of them, it would be their first airplane ride, and not one of them was afraid.  They were just excited and eager to help.

I handled quick deadlines.  I worked late.  I wrote on my lunch break.  I skipped dinner.  I learned to take decent photographs for the first time in my life (much more difficult than I thought it would be…).  More than anything, I realized that people have good things to say, and it’s important to hear them.

In 2009, Graham and I moved from Abingdon for what we thought would be a temporary stay in Northern Virginia.  The prayer flowers from my very first story came with us.  All these years later, they still sit on a shelf in my study.

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I look at them often, and they remind me that the people we meet are never just a means to an end, and that kindness and compassion are real, tangible, and enduring.

New Year, New House, Same Me

/ Katie / Leave a comment

I’ll be honest – I’ve never made a New Year’s resolution that I’ve kept.  I believe that we should always strive to be more kind, more honest, more engaged, more fulfilled, and just happy, but for me, setting goals because the calendar’s turning over feels a little, well, artificial.

It’s 2017 – twelve days in – and I’m sitting in my same chair, writing on my same laptop, using my same brain, in my new (old) house.

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I know that this house will become a project not just for 2017 but for life.  And I mean that in a couple of ways.  Graham and I will spend this year (and the years to come) making this charming old farmhouse everything it was ever meant to be.

And that is my hope, not resolution, for now and for always, for all of us in 2017 and beyond.  That we appreciate ourselves for who we are.  That we set the path for who we will become without fear or doubt.

That we embrace our flaws and build beautiful things with them and make our lives everything we want them to be.

I wasn’t perfect in 2016, and I expect I’ll be the same ridiculous person in 2017.  And I’m pretty okay with that.

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But as I look ahead, with my same eyes, I am excited and a little scared, and hopeful, always hopeful, that I will keep working and writing, that I will keep singing and dancing and having fun, that I will learn and try and fail and succeed, and that I will do my part to make this world everything I believe it can be.

Making Dumplings

/ Katie / 5 Comments

Life is a lot like making dumplings.

There aren’t exact measurements to get it right.

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Sometimes things get messy before they get better.

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Just keep at it.

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Because it’s okay to be a little rough around the edges.

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And it’s okay to be unconventional.

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That’s what makes you beautiful.

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Don’t stir the pot.

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Just let things rest sometimes.

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Add a little spice.

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And always savor every bite, because chicken and dumplings never last long.