tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60769119090329966942024-03-05T11:53:59.977-08:00Trying to Stay Afloat in a Sea of WordsMy women's fiction blog including musings on all things wordy or watery.gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-82886194847259441362019-11-08T08:03:00.001-08:002021-03-26T08:59:42.874-07:00I've been writing poetry lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmXZuAnL58Df0bYowQdyRqa6QteFmxjAa3v27qaq3NWjeXceYUZnPWt5Rr3J7kTVH9Dy-eBH9Zmt-nSzn7GggFV93e6lkQ2AIUPECQ6mutKjUhT9dm5ixM3cOgGW2Fu6IbGFwowfzQb4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-11-08+at+10.41.21+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="641" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmXZuAnL58Df0bYowQdyRqa6QteFmxjAa3v27qaq3NWjeXceYUZnPWt5Rr3J7kTVH9Dy-eBH9Zmt-nSzn7GggFV93e6lkQ2AIUPECQ6mutKjUhT9dm5ixM3cOgGW2Fu6IbGFwowfzQb4/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-11-08+at+10.41.21+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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I've been writing poetry again lately, a return to my youngest writing self, some of it better than others -- and this, below, not my best. But, it's a clear and accessible poem which I'm finding I personally love lately -- something I've grown to appreciate more and more in poetry: clearness and accessibility.<br />
<br />
Those who didn't know me when I was young, who know me from my books, may be surprised by this seeming veer toward poetry, but it's not a veer so much as a circle, and, of course, if you're paying attention, my spare prose in my published books is often more poem than dense writing (plus there is the "bird girl" from The Memory of Things who presents herself in free verse; and the whole novel in verse I just completed and was recently given a nod of approval by my agent).<br />
<br />
So for example, this moment in my forthcoming <a href="https://read.macmillan.com/lp/jack-kerouac-is-dead-to-me/?fbclid=IwAR2QoYBupWrSyHFLriY4EmnYTL9tLxcJDj4ja0Xk30xR4yegQKHhYmIJZw8" target="_blank">JACK KEROUAC IS DEAD TO ME</a>, the words in this moment, most definitely arising like a bit of poetry in my brain (and this being one of my favorite moments):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3lxSMIAfEytS5mA4JfSsMn2KEAVvSQItg8LAo5m83C_h1i_vt7pWERWanm9EGeG9xQ00gWkK8Lh8a48sw1AvU4iLn4G1YzGbnCGKHRJYhrnWMHjfPyV4Tvl7k2yzdm6aC9wmc8XaVZE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-11-08+at+10.51.54+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="742" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3lxSMIAfEytS5mA4JfSsMn2KEAVvSQItg8LAo5m83C_h1i_vt7pWERWanm9EGeG9xQ00gWkK8Lh8a48sw1AvU4iLn4G1YzGbnCGKHRJYhrnWMHjfPyV4Tvl7k2yzdm6aC9wmc8XaVZE/s400/Screen+Shot+2019-11-08+at+10.51.54+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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What if, instead, it had been simply arranged like this...<br />
<br />
I liked how it felt,<br />
to be<br />
out of control,<br />
a moth on a carnival ride<br />
ready to be swept off by<br />
the wind<br />
<br />
At any rate, here is a poem I wrote this morning, first rough draft, totally raw and unedited* (which would need to be done after a period of walking away to truly glean what I want from it), but I am going to attempt, as I cut and paste it, to leave it that way, as I am also finding at this point in my poetry life -- coming from years of manuscript writing -- there's a big danger in overwriting. Also, you might note that this poem is part of a daily practice/writing exercise I am doing with my dear friend, and extraordinary artist/poet/photographer <a href="https://www.lorilandauart.com/" target="_blank">Lori Landau</a>, where we each draw a line or more of inspiration from the other's prior poem. The line from her poem was <i>"... <span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We will find a way to dance through this darkness. . . </span>"</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Dancing Through Darkness (David Byrne, Tell Me How)</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7ad3e38a-7fff-ef05-a6c4-4c20db606dc3" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Last week, I watched you</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">singing and dancing through darkness,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">your wild and iconic limbs alternating between</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">flailing and chopping </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">your essence both</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">robotic and </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">infinitely </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">fluid,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">your presence, electric</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and electrifying.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-40a7abb9-7fff-bfcb-3260-aa9fea92e644" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">believed.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I believed we can be</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">both broken </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">hopeful,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">both bleeding and</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">staunched,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">both parched and </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">bloated with </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">artandsonganddance and the</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> incessantcontagiousrhythmof</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">per cus sion. </span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I believed that light and movement and balance </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and unfiltered abandon</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">could both ignite</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and set us</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">(me)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">free.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And, yet</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">(and, yet) now,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">for five whole days, I have stood</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">paralyzed,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">rhythmless,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">hurting,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">newsfeed open,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">blank “page”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">impenetrable,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">impenetrable,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">impenetrable,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">words </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">absent, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">(goddamned absent)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">glare of white screen</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">worse</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">than</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">all the</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">darkness.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">*yep, I did make a few small edits after pasting. Mostly spacing/form edits. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-62111890496201125602019-02-26T14:22:00.001-08:002019-02-26T14:40:40.915-08:00While Supplies Last<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
When I was a child my father<o:p></o:p></div>
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Would beg us:<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Girls, turn off the tap,”<o:p></o:p></div>
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claiming supplies of clean water were limited.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Think of future generations,” he’d tell us.<br />
“Your children.
Their children.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But all that rain. . . ” we’d protest. . . <o:p></o:p></div>
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“A world full of oceans. . . ”<o:p></o:p></div>
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We couldn’t possibly imagine this<o:p></o:p></div>
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truth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Now,<o:p></o:p></div>
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I stare at dirty keys,<o:p></o:p></div>
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this blank screen,<o:p></o:p></div>
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my mind troubled,<o:p></o:p></div>
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my minor thoughts<o:p></o:p></div>
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bland and<br />
fleeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I write nothing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The dog woofs, bored, at the window.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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What if words<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
like tap water, like<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
clean air<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
actually do<o:p></o:p><br />
run</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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?</div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-53482872132493273612018-10-03T11:33:00.002-07:002018-10-03T12:18:30.937-07:00Of trees and other trauma. . . <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3JXO9y-NT74kgmC-w_9XWyETrbjzyHuRwx-sGqHGdSe2u5yYdEpPQyNmeq4nhBzpjrsuDMk3AW_kNBqoR4it90dHvH45RW_OTv0fSqzWznrCX219QZVrr81sYSZczJEPDNsuVIQ_lbw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-10-03+at+2.20.58+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3JXO9y-NT74kgmC-w_9XWyETrbjzyHuRwx-sGqHGdSe2u5yYdEpPQyNmeq4nhBzpjrsuDMk3AW_kNBqoR4it90dHvH45RW_OTv0fSqzWznrCX219QZVrr81sYSZczJEPDNsuVIQ_lbw/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-10-03+at+2.20.58+PM.png" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, a few years ago, with the tree. . . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There's a healthy old sycamore in our backyard -- majestic and magnificent, thirty, forty, feet tall.<br />
We're taking it down today.<br />
<br />
*I* am taking it down today.<br />
<br />
I have singlehandedly made the decision to<br />
bring down a<br />
living<br />
thing.<br />
<br />
What if trees have feelings?<br />
<br />
What if the loss of this giant -- a stoic, constant member of our family -- symbolizes some greater loss,<br />
some worse trauma,<br />
some butterfly effect that starts <br />
here.<br />
<br />
What evils did this beautiful old tree ever impose upon me?<br />
<br />
In fairness,<br />
it has some mold, some fungus, untreatable (I have tried for three summers),<br />
unrelenting, that has,<br />
for the past four years,<br />
seen it dropping its leaves, fuzzy and brown, plentiful, as if it were fall.<br />
From May through September.<br />
Then, October comes, and it drops them for the season once and for all.<br />
<br />
The tree is a constant, shedding, mess of dead leaves.<br />
Sometimes, its bark peels off in strips to join in the action.<br />
<br />
In my further defense. . .<br />
<br />
My property is small -- 1/4 acre all told -- and the backyard, modest, encircled with gardens I work hard to maintain, and a small pool I take advantage of daily, though it is too small to even swim satisfying laps in these days. . .<br />
<br />
The brown, moldy leaves cover everything.<br />
Every day.<br />
All. Summer. Long.<br />
<br />
It is sweaty work, if you've never done it, raking a fall-like yard full of leaves in the middle of July.<br />
<br />
The saucer-sized leaves get stuck in the lavender stems, the hydrangea branches,<br />
drift on the surface of my<br />
once pristine<br />
pool.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkGl13OzJetfpbGXgcdEjiFAqu2gKtKZQp8Nz0qY12ehMwIL9ro8FpmAEfw6UYLt_8zbJywhzlM5Cse0wRqNCWRgcvRtv_br0xj05Aef0orWwzYmQ9wkOetZZ-2GwWVWbuK4XSvun9rY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-10-03+at+2.22.02+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="630" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkGl13OzJetfpbGXgcdEjiFAqu2gKtKZQp8Nz0qY12ehMwIL9ro8FpmAEfw6UYLt_8zbJywhzlM5Cse0wRqNCWRgcvRtv_br0xj05Aef0orWwzYmQ9wkOetZZ-2GwWVWbuK4XSvun9rY/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-10-03+at+2.22.02+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, 2009, in front of the tree. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
They clog the lawnmower,<br />
get dragged indoors.<br />
<br />
Brown, moldy leaves in my living room. . .<br />
<br />
But are these really<br />
such unforgivable crimes for twenty years of beauty and<br />
free shade?<br />
<br />
There's an otherwise healthy old sycamore in our backyard, its seasonal show succumbed to the ravages of<br />
climate change, and<br />
time.<br />
<br />
Just as I have, and<br />
will.<br />
<br />
I'm taking it down today. The trucks are here, felling limbs, loudly grinding its branches down to nothing.<br />
<br />
I am murdering it, if you will.<br />
<br />
If it's any consolation, it is not without remorse, without a price to pay.<br />
I will dream about it;<br />
I could water its hefty roots with my real tears.<br />
<br />
The sycamore tree in my yard is all but gone.<br />
blown to bits through a shredder,<br />
its few remains<br />
peppering my yard.<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear tree,<br />
I will miss you.<br />
<br />
I'm very, very sorry to see you gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
- gae<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-46462923852816129012018-09-14T20:22:00.002-07:002018-09-18T07:01:20.185-07:00Legacy - quick poem<br />
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9V9JkLF72V41NrRaqM8c9tELk_5cwrOdBzAUTLgm9aXFC9A4XSNSFsmdYioBOBtd35VrKcQZUv8FTuudB8q2WkQrJnrG2Fikp5REtTWWU9Xc5ekcJe17_cqsMwVATKp_BjMplDAQb57M/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-04-13+at+11.23.38+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="699" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9V9JkLF72V41NrRaqM8c9tELk_5cwrOdBzAUTLgm9aXFC9A4XSNSFsmdYioBOBtd35VrKcQZUv8FTuudB8q2WkQrJnrG2Fikp5REtTWWU9Xc5ekcJe17_cqsMwVATKp_BjMplDAQb57M/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-04-13+at+11.23.38+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I had some thoughts pop into my head<br />
the other day<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
outside a Starbucks in New Jersey,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and needed a place to<br />
jot them all down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Laptop-less, I found a stack of prepaid postcards in the door of my car,</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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leftovers from a summer of<br />
political rantings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
Over a small “tall” iced coffee with almond milk</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wrote, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it occurring to me<o:p></o:p></div>
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disheartened, Now, I can put a value to<br />
my words:</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Thirty-five cents,<o:p></o:p></div>
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pen to paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Today, I spent the day with a firefighter who rushed the <o:p></o:p></div>
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burning buildings on <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9/11<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the scars on his neck, nothing compared to</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
his buddies' who<br />
fell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hasn’t slept a solid night in<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
seventeen <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What price, these things we carry </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
(and, worse,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the things<br />
we do </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
not?)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What kind of legacy is an unread book</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on some </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
library shelf?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- gae </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-69544476627631069942018-05-17T09:45:00.000-07:002018-05-17T09:45:07.942-07:00IN SIGHT OF HELP. . . It's out there -- REALLY -- and May is mental health awareness month<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgV45iCbyH-7mFbpTEYNvaE0dDEtErCHjahqYz2kviONCf-n4-Q0oIEmCRwvcT22_xrCIA452ZQ6o-seoagTmGm5dZtoy4l0opMLOoDaGgUP0dBNlKZFlXRnpjRiKeDjEyTYg74J89a-0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-06+at+1.15.04+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="723" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgV45iCbyH-7mFbpTEYNvaE0dDEtErCHjahqYz2kviONCf-n4-Q0oIEmCRwvcT22_xrCIA452ZQ6o-seoagTmGm5dZtoy4l0opMLOoDaGgUP0dBNlKZFlXRnpjRiKeDjEyTYg74J89a-0/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-05-06+at+1.15.04+PM.png" width="320" /></a><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"</span><i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In Sight of Stars</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> deals with mental health, Vincent Van Gogh, family and recovery; all told in some of the most beautiful prose you will probably ever read. As far as I'm concerned, [this novel] is the equivalent to “Starry Night Over the Rhone,” making Gae Polisner the Vincent Van Gogh of young adult fiction." </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">- </span><i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Teen Reads</i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhajRbl05cYB4Qfcpz-9jRYcw0mAX_Q0PolLAXOJojsTBHfWsLLHeHY4NYrrmbA5CPdWjQyxbBqfYfhGAlnMr-Duu9iMTha81zu5r1Gyz8yIROptipWQdVZydWaqgpRUlhdUG3NYRPYY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-17+at+12.20.31+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="646" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhajRbl05cYB4Qfcpz-9jRYcw0mAX_Q0PolLAXOJojsTBHfWsLLHeHY4NYrrmbA5CPdWjQyxbBqfYfhGAlnMr-Duu9iMTha81zu5r1Gyz8yIROptipWQdVZydWaqgpRUlhdUG3NYRPYY/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-05-17+at+12.20.31+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
May is -- has been -- <a href="http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/may" target="_blank">Mental Health Awareness month</a>, and I have a LOT to "say" about that, except that on the 4th of May -- very un "force" like -- or, maybe exactly force-like -- I fell and broke my hand very un-ninja style, and my typing is, shall we say, fucking limited. </div>
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So, suffice that I want to say this:<br /><br />WE ALL SUFFER. </div>
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We do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbeBNtHtWih4oAema2r6pXoBHw8En043LxVzkM_Tf4l9KJ5-YcSyhRqPne-zI1nN3sMxdLRE1qRqpvHK8VZMbcHEOZg1as7DGOryKb85jDYG13f3hncn-kG_UdEyT0m2EjRHmqfGB7fA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-11+at+9.03.16+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1070" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbeBNtHtWih4oAema2r6pXoBHw8En043LxVzkM_Tf4l9KJ5-YcSyhRqPne-zI1nN3sMxdLRE1qRqpvHK8VZMbcHEOZg1as7DGOryKb85jDYG13f3hncn-kG_UdEyT0m2EjRHmqfGB7fA/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-05-11+at+9.03.16+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Some greatly.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Some less so.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjjVI-aQWIu0EYnZpzqXR-ugI4lL33sedMFDRRvofxoeq7ME0DOOjnjHiT-hGBQh0gYnzWRZHBW0-2Gqw-Jg-TrUXw6nLVkU92e4YwVkfy6m3DpVTxMRQukwv04qd-QC8rGNuluk7oeDE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-01-18+at+1.55.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="779" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjjVI-aQWIu0EYnZpzqXR-ugI4lL33sedMFDRRvofxoeq7ME0DOOjnjHiT-hGBQh0gYnzWRZHBW0-2Gqw-Jg-TrUXw6nLVkU92e4YwVkfy6m3DpVTxMRQukwv04qd-QC8rGNuluk7oeDE/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-01-18+at+1.55.03+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I believe it's only a matter of degree and circumstance that separates us. <br /><br />And if you suffer, there is help out there. Even if you don't suffer acutely, the help is useful. The help can be life-changing. (In this regard, I have witnessed <a href="https://behavioraltech.org/research/how-dbt-helps/" target="_blank">Dialectical Behavior Therapy</a> be life changing, though, as always, it matters that you find a good and skilled therapist/center that fits for you). <br /><br />If there is one thing I hope readers might take from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sight-Stars-Novel-Gae-Polisner/dp/1250143837" target="_blank">IN SIGHT OF STARS</a>**, it is this: <br /><br />Open yourself. Know you are worthy. Let people in. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And, if you want to know more specifics, reach out to me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
xox gae</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrH_wY2uFBkIZZGUrdL5x8QN3-eAgadVp4u_requNl-hGgQdZBbH_nm8JytPYF5BKB620weeU7ULbYpEfZcMFjfzfymwTDXUAP7ZsHY5NKQFXWsVbUh7m-K5qOjVxk5GaBuaRHKAUEN0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-16+at+11.14.18+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="957" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrH_wY2uFBkIZZGUrdL5x8QN3-eAgadVp4u_requNl-hGgQdZBbH_nm8JytPYF5BKB620weeU7ULbYpEfZcMFjfzfymwTDXUAP7ZsHY5NKQFXWsVbUh7m-K5qOjVxk5GaBuaRHKAUEN0/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-05-16+at+11.14.18+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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** now out in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/In-Sight-of-Stars/dp/B07CP7RX2L/ref=tmm_aud_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">AUDIOBOOK </a>narrated by the awesome Michael Crouch </div>
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gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-74903062773955847062017-12-26T13:23:00.000-08:002017-12-26T15:11:55.576-08:00New Year's Resolutions: I'm giving them an A: Avert, Act, Affirm.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPZOCNaC-YZb2MGRWOGPSZ8nnZcVjb_WLb0HwIgOavn9sUqSJhwswWUpC0uAB1VGFjkfHxlgSquO7VlypresaAhyphenhyphenFZJmEy4OGk2MuhoTbq4oU32F-P4u-74bWfVoC3IdVlWZzCdBf7c4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-19+at+9.28.02+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="551" data-original-width="557" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPZOCNaC-YZb2MGRWOGPSZ8nnZcVjb_WLb0HwIgOavn9sUqSJhwswWUpC0uAB1VGFjkfHxlgSquO7VlypresaAhyphenhyphenFZJmEy4OGk2MuhoTbq4oU32F-P4u-74bWfVoC3IdVlWZzCdBf7c4/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-12-19+at+9.28.02+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I know I'm not here as much anymore.<br />
<br />
I miss it, the blogging. I do.<br />
<br />
It's been a year. So much has changed about our world -- our country -- been painfully unearthed, laid bare and oozing, all jagged teeth and slime, like some alien thing from the deep.<br />
<br />
I know for many the evil has been visible for a long time, like some movie clown in the sewers, red eyes glaring, calling for others to climb in. And climb in, they did, and now they've all climbed out again, with the worst of the oozing, pus-filled aliens at the helm.<br />
<br />
For most of us, it feels like a waking nightmare, one many of us never thought we'd see in our country. For our kids' sake, I hope we survive it. . .<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">But I digress. 2018 is on the horizon and there is much to do for as long as this oozing sore of a country is still dragging its sorry ass awake each morning with the sunrise, and to bed after dark. So here are my resolutions. I'm giving them an A. Or three. AVERT. AFFIRM. And, ACT. </span><br />
<b style="text-align: center;"><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>AVERT:</u></b> When <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gae-Polisner/e/B004GBJ8RU/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" target="_blank">THE PULL OF GRAVITY</a> came out years ago, though my editor adored the book, it had very little in-house support. Having taken nearly 10 years to get a book deal, I wasn't about to let the book, which garnered pretty stellar reviews and a Bank Street Best designation, disappear quietly into the ether. So I did what I knew how to do: I put my marketing hat on (yes, my undergrad degree is in marketing) and began to scour the internet for mentions of the book and/or mentions of OF MICE AND MEN being taught, so that I could try to make connections and get the book in readers hands around the country. Checking on my book morning and night, finding ways to promote it, became what I did. I'd often spend three or four hours a day reaching out to schools and trying to get the book seen. It's a habit that has continued through <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gae-Polisner/e/B004GBJ8RU/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" target="_blank">THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gae-Polisner/e/B004GBJ8RU/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" target="_blank">THE MEMORY OF THINGS</a>. The problem is, it's both a time suck and an easy distraction (at least compared to writing something new), not to mention a rather narcissistic sort of endeavor that often only leads to comparison and disappointment. So, for starters in 2018, I am resolving to avert my eyes from all that, and to only to spend a minimal allotted time looking under the guise of marketing or otherwise, assuming anything I need to know will come to my attention. Maybe fifteen minutes on Fridays. The rest will be a battle not to search and click.<br />
<br />
There's a second way I'm needing to avert my eyes. There is a lot of divisiveness and angry discourse taking place in Children's Publishing right now. If you want to see one small example of the nature of it, you can read <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/24/books/in-an-era-of-online-outrage-do-sensitivity-readers-result-in-better-books-or-censorship.html?_r=1" target="_blank">THIS PIECE</a> and then <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/24/books/in-an-era-of-online-outrage-do-sensitivity-readers-result-in-better-books-or-censorship.html?_r=1#commentsContainer" target="_blank">THE COMMENTS</a> to it. The business has grown frustrating and upsetting to me in that way: that, while all of us seem to agree on underlying issues and values, the callout culture and dragging has become ugly for those of us who may not agree with the <i>methodology, </i>who might prefer a more mindful, nonjudgmental conversation. I, for one, try to affirm and hold up, but never tear down on the basis that there is little we can know about a person from a single tweet, or even a single snapshot of their life during a period of time. But we are living through a callout, dragging, tear down culture:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fOUzfMVrRT31Q6eQGltmmmMQ9lCJ1DK85preGc-50lQN4Pi2-jTAu7hjqkRNxPgNHBFsUVFGTdkUrOejyCH3O9evxxuzlT1yQPwVA0OWgIE818_VashfjHc4mbH4T0RijIA47dhTenM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.34.51+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="648" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fOUzfMVrRT31Q6eQGltmmmMQ9lCJ1DK85preGc-50lQN4Pi2-jTAu7hjqkRNxPgNHBFsUVFGTdkUrOejyCH3O9evxxuzlT1yQPwVA0OWgIE818_VashfjHc4mbH4T0RijIA47dhTenM/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.34.51+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>I don't know Eric Smith but have redacted the photo and name of an author I do know <br />and otherwise respect who is here describing another author's public excitement <br />about "dragging" Joyce Carol Oates as "levity."<br />This breaks my heart and I certainly don't feel it elevates the conversation.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Yes, I've saved many screenshots that speak to my concerns, though I won't share more than this single one here, now, because I don't want to have an <u>online</u> faux or half discussion. I am saving them in case I ever have an opportunity to have these conversations in person or on panels if anyone really wants to mindfully dig deep into the complexities of the issues rather than merely championing one side in an angry echo chamber.<br />
<br />
What I do know is that it feels very much like a microcosm of the macrocosm that has been unfolding for the past years in the democratic party, where very little true listening and hearing goes on, only angry barked agendas. And, it frightens me because I believe long-term it will hurt us more than it will help. I believe we need to proceed non-judgmentally, without anger, and that, instead, we not only conflate issues (which undermines their seriousness), but also that there is a large amount of hypocrisy taking place within the movement (people doing the very thing they righteously tell others not to do, by coming up with excuses why it's okay for them, how their behavior is differentiated). In my very humble opinion, twitter has never been the right place to have REAL CONVERSATIONS. TO LISTEN AND BE HEARD. Yet, watching the twitter community is like rubbernecking -- hard to turn away from though it upsets me to no end. So, in that regard, too, unless I have a way to add healthily to the conversation, I'm going to stop reading -- Avert -- and stop wasting time, and stick to what I've always done which is do my best to hold up and share those pushing positive messages (<b>Affirming</b>) and do a better job of averting my eyes from the rest. It's a waste of time which I can otherwise spend taking <b>Action</b>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>ACT.</u></b></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJD6akExjQpSkgM3NZ2eYHxn2-9fryJcG66zh7Rp70U9CxA6VXUoa2bShYai7-7x23qensjqFhBVTxwPHpgSKXjMAHkpFyPaimtea3iMjVmBS9XjL5_PSd4v7QMjHdb-hAiyky5YzqPhA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.47.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="522" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJD6akExjQpSkgM3NZ2eYHxn2-9fryJcG66zh7Rp70U9CxA6VXUoa2bShYai7-7x23qensjqFhBVTxwPHpgSKXjMAHkpFyPaimtea3iMjVmBS9XjL5_PSd4v7QMjHdb-hAiyky5YzqPhA/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.47.50+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With amazing assemblywoman Christine Pelligrino (who won a special election in a deeply red district),<br />
and with my personal superhero, NY Attorney General Eric Schneiderman at a recent fundraiser for<br />
progressive causes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d-66Mass0v8CfvpE8kxYMSCO8ENJajDkR6f4VpBveXpKglBRWSgIXF6sXTVeyVVgsTTHG0Xf_Q6fBJQzwWgY2CAuUY_B_AjZHG6iZUHSBeHgiINn5fVsLlAht2rM2sUG5HdlYn08aLY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.49.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d-66Mass0v8CfvpE8kxYMSCO8ENJajDkR6f4VpBveXpKglBRWSgIXF6sXTVeyVVgsTTHG0Xf_Q6fBJQzwWgY2CAuUY_B_AjZHG6iZUHSBeHgiINn5fVsLlAht2rM2sUG5HdlYn08aLY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.49.20+PM.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campaigning for a local candidate for Town Supervisor </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb7jUxT9xvYEh1tnWjg_SS3uzmW5GNxsWaLgYDcZfD1fIiIltefw_RSQAW8-LuZBk7PbKB0rBLHE-iQNaI3N3TZdnLP5ooV-QNp8IOlhnOdyce1jEmpWllBQNCNdHF1fOXVkMmi7mPyM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.48.10+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="506" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb7jUxT9xvYEh1tnWjg_SS3uzmW5GNxsWaLgYDcZfD1fIiIltefw_RSQAW8-LuZBk7PbKB0rBLHE-iQNaI3N3TZdnLP5ooV-QNp8IOlhnOdyce1jEmpWllBQNCNdHF1fOXVkMmi7mPyM/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.48.10+PM.png" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the women's march with my mom and sisters. <3 td=""></3></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, I am hoping step one, Avert, will give me more time to Act. Whether that action is writing, protesting, swimming, doing yoga, teaching writing, or playing with the dog, it's all good. I just need to DO all the things I want to do, and NOT DO all the things that rile me up but ultimately waste time because they don't get done what needs to get done.<br />
<br />
As far as the resistance goes, I know we're all exhausted, but we're just getting started. We need to turn the country blue in 2018, and that means there is no tiring of marching, of speaking out, of making phone calls, of trying to help in whatever way we are each able.<br />
<br />
Which leads to me to this: <b><u>AFFIRM</u></b>.<br />
<br />
It's this simple: There are many ways to help in this world (and, likely, an equal many ways to do harm). I am resolving to help in the best way I know how, which is to always be as mindful as possible, to leave judgment (and righteousness) behind, and only to lift up and amplify where reasonable, right, and possible, while NEVER tearing down.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHgNhgn-NiLX6R90Snl_LbK-8ixngR3to_dQB8nG_2WB5I6_jUd8gmNNFwTGOIrvAPLa09kJVcetnM_VAIzt2LODImxyZyWiNq3gJDwhFOaPgyShx1BRbenke-JPQdQ5B2wYC245fZHc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.48.51+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHgNhgn-NiLX6R90Snl_LbK-8ixngR3to_dQB8nG_2WB5I6_jUd8gmNNFwTGOIrvAPLa09kJVcetnM_VAIzt2LODImxyZyWiNq3gJDwhFOaPgyShx1BRbenke-JPQdQ5B2wYC245fZHc/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.48.51+PM.png" width="312" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
These are my resolutions for 2018. I will also renew two longstanding resolutions: to be a good confidante, and to take the stairs. Oh yeah, and to stop sleeping so late, even in the face of the endless cycle of depressing news to wake up to.<br />
<br />
These are my resolutions for 2018. What are yours?gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-5034236228088264552017-11-08T14:40:00.003-08:002017-11-08T14:42:17.894-08:00This is a writer's brain. . . it's exhausting. <div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "SF Optimized", system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.12px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "SF Optimized", system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.12px;">
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I want to write a book. Like actually complete a book. I doubt I can, but I want to try.<br />
<br />
*writes book that takes years. quickly discounts accomplishment*<br />
<br />
I just want to get an agent. If I could only get an agent . . .</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*after years of rejection gets agent*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want to sell this manuscript.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*after years of revision and rejection sells manuscript*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want decent critical reviews and a handful of readers.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*gets those. quickly discounts same.*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want more readers and to sell another book.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*does so. quickly discounts same. lather, rinse, repeat. Often multiple times.*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want a starred review.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
(*fuck off. still waiting*)</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want to win an award.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*gets a few. quickly discounts same.*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxgaTb7N4-nqxYjmwlrgAn1t6hJgDMiNEq25VgD68E4ZyDL6WNnuWr0ytxU9Y6S3C_5Sg1XM42SuYepUrH53PgBaigx3Pff-tYvI-MM540413oEDXNBLQJFSyORhu6gS_Ix09TZ6X7yI/s1600/23231411_1862069530474488_8904177315958074169_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxgaTb7N4-nqxYjmwlrgAn1t6hJgDMiNEq25VgD68E4ZyDL6WNnuWr0ytxU9Y6S3C_5Sg1XM42SuYepUrH53PgBaigx3Pff-tYvI-MM540413oEDXNBLQJFSyORhu6gS_Ix09TZ6X7yI/s320/23231411_1862069530474488_8904177315958074169_n.jpg" width="256" /></a>I just want to win a "real" award. The kind that comes with a sticker on the book.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
(*again, fuck off. Who asked you? And see what I mean about discounting same. . . ?*)</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want to write a book that matters.</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
*What does that even mean? And anyway, hard to tell. But let's just, for argument's sake, say that a handful of readers' notes could make one believe that maybe possibly they have done so. quickly discounts same.*</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I just want to write the kind of book that's unique, that's different, that's never been done, that takes someone's breath away. . .</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
* . . . *</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
(I just needed to write that out so I could actually plow forward and write what I'm working on now. . . )<br />
<br />
- gae</div>
</div>
gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-29852210430247228542017-09-30T08:23:00.001-07:002019-02-26T14:37:53.091-08:00Recurrrent dream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXqQP73cE17ro9u9GxRplXyWIp3yxybaTw31bJhM4iznsu0KzIi19y7uht2Do9BXs0S2Qo-dyPHDl_3lxU6ZSyARHO-T4qRMIKiNV15QfCwe6CDl41RWDMtFjFQMSAClRcRAh7RI9ot4/s1600/22050149_1826309157383859_7080016434838250212_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXqQP73cE17ro9u9GxRplXyWIp3yxybaTw31bJhM4iznsu0KzIi19y7uht2Do9BXs0S2Qo-dyPHDl_3lxU6ZSyARHO-T4qRMIKiNV15QfCwe6CDl41RWDMtFjFQMSAClRcRAh7RI9ot4/s320/22050149_1826309157383859_7080016434838250212_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Last night, you appeared again<br />
like you do<br />
every so often<br />
your eyes, always lifted slightly to mine<br />
in that<br />
pleading way<br />
begging for return.<br />
<br />
I resisted<br />
knowing<br />
-- knowing --<br />
(goddamn it, knowing)<br />
<br />
but succumbed anyway,<br />
fell back, back, back,<br />
into that hopeless, desperate rhythm,<br />
into promise,<br />
into aching<br />
tempestuous<br />
fire.<br />
<br />
Last night, you appeared again,<br />
guilted me,<br />
wilted me,<br />
gutted me,<br />
opened me up and<br />
swallowed me whole again.<br />
<br />
I thought i could<br />
stay away<br />
<br />
be better<br />
be<br />
<br />
done.<br />
<br />
<br />
Last night,<br />
<br />
our waking encounters -- so constant these days --<br />
(polite enough, yes,<br />
a familiar hug shared between old barely-friends)<br />
<br />
took hold,<br />
shook me like a dog with a ragged, shredded<br />
toy.<br />
<br />
Broke my neck,<br />
left me limp,<br />
spiritless,<br />
<br />
heaving.<br />
<br />
Loosed my desire,<br />
<br />
like so many spilled, rolling marbles,<br />
skittering<br />
<br />
everywhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-20793507758303797092017-01-04T09:07:00.007-08:002017-01-04T15:21:33.940-08:00Relinquish, Renew, Resolve . . . 2016 into 2017 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_7BWCG_1BUIjtP9BKiJwaAjyXHtLn9R4myUUNsNN6ii_h6BM2wOwZcFXpMEugbpJ4WYgMen2KBnof1yIdU5pbZU1zFCflk1x_MJR3QBf4rvnogTUHUX_XBaZRQK-EOnFWwBCPRhfMdQ/s1600/12651380_1217914834889964_9207511290212455484_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_7BWCG_1BUIjtP9BKiJwaAjyXHtLn9R4myUUNsNN6ii_h6BM2wOwZcFXpMEugbpJ4WYgMen2KBnof1yIdU5pbZU1zFCflk1x_MJR3QBf4rvnogTUHUX_XBaZRQK-EOnFWwBCPRhfMdQ/s320/12651380_1217914834889964_9207511290212455484_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I know many aren't, but I'm a <a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2014/12/2014-into-2015-shifting-and-settling.html" target="_blank">fan of the New Year's Resolution</a>. Sure, time is a construct and all that, but I still like the whole "tabula rasa" vibe of it all.<br />
<br />
January 1 = blank page. Clean slate.<br />
<br />
A chance to start over again.<br />
<br />
Okay, well, make that January 2, because there are too many good leftovers in this house the day after New Year's Eve.<br />
<br />
Still, I admit it is hard. This year more than ever before.<br />
<br />
Those who read me regularly in any forum know how I feel about our world and country right now: It is hard to feel hopeful and renewed in any sense, hard to feel creative or to plan. Hard to feel anything other than panic and despair.<br />
<br />
No mincing words. If you are a democrat, a liberal and/or a progressive, if you are a person who truly cares about our earth, other people, and our world, if you try to live by the motto, "first do no harm," 2016 was a motherfucking assclown, and 2017 is poised to make last year look tame.<br />
<br />
So, at first, I was thinking, "Fuck it. I make no promises. I just need to get through."<br />
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<br /></div>
But I quickly rethought that, because if I'm going to get through, I'm going to need to commit to some things to help get me through. Because, quite frankly, the message running through my brain for the past several weeks: "Eat all the crap! Sleep late! What does it matter, we're all going to die in a nuclear wasteland?!?!" isn't going to help me help my kids. It isn't going to preserve our planet for their kids. It is no frame of mind for the resistance.<br />
<br />
What's that old motto? I can tell you what it's not: It's not when the going gets tough, the tough sleep in and eat all the cookies."<br />
<br />
And anyway, it isn't how I want to spend my last days if they are those anyway. So if it takes a construct that I'm used to, so be it. I liked who I was becoming before that bloated, gloating, orange carnival barker ransacked the landscape of our country. Time to plow forward with new resolve.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>1. Relinquishing & Resolving:</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Boyz to men: </b><br />
<b>It's </b><b>time to LET GO.</b> </div>
<br />
<br />
<b><i>Story one:</i></b> November 8th at around 9:30 pm, the quickly-escalating texts from boys, who were both away at school, began to roll in:<br />
<br />
"Are you worried?"<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxc5t7TjZOSLrJVgAnHMQg-0F4wqjewO9W6iZz0wXUE3GqJGTxfERHlt0dd-Gn4hffn8ug8PR-HaScNpvI2MipsNLaetoYKw1ckIvsXEsdCHCAmzHA-IM_54AtcecjR5Z3VWn6rcVquU/s1600/IMG_3130.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxc5t7TjZOSLrJVgAnHMQg-0F4wqjewO9W6iZz0wXUE3GqJGTxfERHlt0dd-Gn4hffn8ug8PR-HaScNpvI2MipsNLaetoYKw1ckIvsXEsdCHCAmzHA-IM_54AtcecjR5Z3VWn6rcVquU/s320/IMG_3130.PNG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The younger one is taller. . . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"What's going on. . .?"<br />
<br />
"Are you scared?"<br />
<br />
"What's going to happen if he wins. . .???"<br />
<br />
I did my best to steady myself.<br />
<br />
"It's still early. . . " I responded. "No way our country will elect him."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, a little. . ."<br />
<br />
As the night wore on, texts wouldn't suffice. I found my breath -- barely -- and made the calls to them.<br />
<br />
"Yes, it's awful. No, I can't believe it. But, we'll be alright. We've weathered bad periods in history before. . ."<br />
<br />
My voice shook as I lied. I didn't believe my own words.<br />
<br />
<i>How could I let this happen in their world. . . ? </i><br />
<br />
In the days since the election, my boys have made more peace with our country's politics than I have. Maybe it's youth. Maybe it's willful distraction and putting aside. One thing is for sure. They know the biggest truth of all, now: I cannot protect them from the evils of the world.<br />
<br />
The fact of this truth is excruciating. But they are practically grown men. The only thing I can do is let go.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
<b><i>Story two:</i></b> Last week, as I began to type this post, my younger son was on the road from LI to PA, making a drive he had never made before. To those who don't live in NY or Chicago, or LA, I imagine a kid's first big drive from home to anywhere is different than if you live here. But for those of us who live on Long Island and have tried to get from LI to anywhere else, skirting the city to get on to the GW Bridge or Throgsneck, or other such similar maneuverings, is its own kind of dangerous hell on earth. It looks like this, but in motion: The trucks. The aggressive driving. The confusing, last minute, lane changes.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVfMyfytYSCFLOOKf6UsxRk_rk2jJPmwb5gPFC9TaQSlOcIlQ1y_1LVAZ-gjos0WZDAObS4Id0oDewGadMLDuLkkOuzzRx_Y5k4tNhP8dy5X0Ic7e6Ovj82MH6bBVuRNdBNR4-fHdlJmw/s1600/bay_bridge_getty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVfMyfytYSCFLOOKf6UsxRk_rk2jJPmwb5gPFC9TaQSlOcIlQ1y_1LVAZ-gjos0WZDAObS4Id0oDewGadMLDuLkkOuzzRx_Y5k4tNhP8dy5X0Ic7e6Ovj82MH6bBVuRNdBNR4-fHdlJmw/s320/bay_bridge_getty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-agVxGLkXnc9mViUaobb10DjBqpzOZaKOaEuR84hfksC-rY0jDVm4aqc8ZP1u6uCAMVwAfb73r89gtzrforTBG6l_l8cMtGp3V6IBxuioAAod1JMdP6QEraw7DU4uxJGaIMhFdAS1D14/s1600/Screenshot-2014-01-20-20.08.15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-agVxGLkXnc9mViUaobb10DjBqpzOZaKOaEuR84hfksC-rY0jDVm4aqc8ZP1u6uCAMVwAfb73r89gtzrforTBG6l_l8cMtGp3V6IBxuioAAod1JMdP6QEraw7DU4uxJGaIMhFdAS1D14/s320/Screenshot-2014-01-20-20.08.15.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. . . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Before our older so made such a drive, he did it WITH us multiple times, so we could instruct him and be another set of more experienced eyes. But with our younger son, the opportunity kept alluding us, and the one time we did have him try, I was too nervous in the backseat and made my husband pull over and switch drivers.<br />
<br />
Suffice it to say, as I worked on this post and watched the clock tick, it was an excruciating exercise in working to let go -- but a fantastic opportunity to practice. Every time, I panicked, I whispered to myself, "He is smart. He is capable. Let go."<br />
<br />
In a few hours, he had arrived safely, in good time, and did the ride home a few days later, no problem, as well.<br />
<br />
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*** </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b><i>Story-ish three</i></b>: My older son has been engaged in a really wonderful
form of therapy called DBT therapy which has a huge mindfulness component to
it, and once a week, he, my husband, and I participate in a large group session with him. As such, we get to learn the units and components of DBT. There's a piece called "Radical Acceptance," and, as part of it, we work to get rid of the word "should." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">Spend a day doing that alone -- subbing out the word should -- and you'll see how much our brains are constantly focused on <i><u>what we think should be</u></i> rather than <i><u>what is</u></i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><b>So, this is my biggest resolution for 2017: Let go. LET GO. Get rid of the word should.</b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. <b><u>Renew and Resolve</u></b> </div>
<br />
1. <b>Go back to healthy eating</b>. <a href="http://whole30.com/" target="_blank">Hello again, Whole 30</a>. Already under way.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibk7qOVy5OOCurPSdSO8oD7aBBtMY1AtQ7PjSZzj16YWGuIHDE45ofeL7Hseo1uIAc6eMmqJ-D2mJsdqi3KpJNC5ynmUHY0InYDNyBf9bHRJiu9Jm-q-Dq6wA4l0b1silcr-NeVY9nh_8/s1600/15621853_1504840746197370_656022973823841951_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibk7qOVy5OOCurPSdSO8oD7aBBtMY1AtQ7PjSZzj16YWGuIHDE45ofeL7Hseo1uIAc6eMmqJ-D2mJsdqi3KpJNC5ynmUHY0InYDNyBf9bHRJiu9Jm-q-Dq6wA4l0b1silcr-NeVY9nh_8/s320/15621853_1504840746197370_656022973823841951_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've got my "don't grab my pussy"-cat hat<br />
and I'm ready to march on 1/21. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
2. <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DzOz3Y6D8g_MNXHNMJYAz1b41_cn535aU5UsN7Lj8X8/preview" target="_blank">Commit to Political Action</a>. Before my forties, I was never very politically involved. Though I was a vocal Bill Clinton fan, Obama's first election was probably the first one I felt incredibly strongly about, enough to feel deeply, deeply invested on election night. The truth is, I never have had huge confidence in my political "smarts," in that fact that I know enough from an in-depth perspective, to fairly have an opinion worthy of sharing with others.<br />
<br />
Well, guess what 2017? <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/trumps-america-is-not-the-only-real-america/2017/01/02/a15239aa-ced0-11e6-a747-d03044780a02_story.html?postshare=2351483456086831&tid=ss_fb-bottom&utm_term=.552fbd1ed608" target="_blank">You elected the wrong guy, a bad guy, one who stirred the worst underbelly of our society, so I'm done worrying about all that.</a><br />
<br />
I'm reading trusted, neutral sources. I'm sharing action. I'm marching. I'm speaking out. And as a proud member of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/ATLIACTIVIST/" target="_blank">ATLI </a>, I plan to fight back any fear, insecurity and lethargy on my part, and get more and more involved.<br />
<br />
<br />
And, last but not least,<br />
<br />
3. <b><u>Be boldly and confidently creative</u></b>. I made a silly joke on Facebook the other day that I was going to become an arrogant egomaniac in 2017. But I'm only half-kidding. Put it this way: Four books sold to some of the most reputable publishers in history, and three released into the world to pretty good reviews all around, and I'm ready to believe that I am truly a writer worth reading. I'm ready to write with confidence. I'm ready to believe that my stories are published because they're goddamned worthy of being out there.<br />
<br />
Er.<br />
<br />
But yeah. Fuck it. I am.<br />
<br />
Something like that anyway. And on that front, 2017 has started out strong:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>In addition to appearing on many year end favorites and best of lists, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Memory-Things-Novel-Gae-Polisner/dp/1250095522" target="_blank">THE MEMORY OF THINGS</a> just won me my third <a href="https://nerdybookclub.wordpress.com/2017/01/03/the-2016-nerdies-young-adult-fiction-part-one-announced-by-a-convention-of-nerds/" target="_blank">Nerdy Book Club award</a> (thank you, NBC!!) and comes out in a fancy new paperback incarnation in August 2017. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>My <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32766026-in-sight-of-stars?from_search=true" target="_blank">IN SIGHT OF STARS</a> revisions were just accepted by incredible editor, Vicki Lame, and </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczKNelkaab5UDZ3JuTBQ__YJdnW3gsWGFzJONBpJIe0Qf_eAL6-dyMIoost7Z8GaQm25U4RdSlBOCRBQHBRgU-VAzoNmh3SUaYZBhIdZicpLy4eQRuRyHJRfEk9FBcJ8oXMj5AAoW-ZE/s1600/HsHlVsAK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczKNelkaab5UDZ3JuTBQ__YJdnW3gsWGFzJONBpJIe0Qf_eAL6-dyMIoost7Z8GaQm25U4RdSlBOCRBQHBRgU-VAzoNmh3SUaYZBhIdZicpLy4eQRuRyHJRfEk9FBcJ8oXMj5AAoW-ZE/s320/HsHlVsAK.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>I am working on an exciting collaboration with my dear friend and extraordinary writer, <a href="http://www.norabaskin.com/" target="_blank">Nora Raleigh Baskin</a> (<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nine-Ten-September-11-Story/dp/144248506X/ref=pd_sim_14_3?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=144248506X&pd_rd_r=DTATZ3FX5FVZRHCDABR4&pd_rd_w=C4zyD&pd_rd_wg=P751M&psc=1&refRID=DTATZ3FX5FVZRHCDABR4" target="_blank">NINE, TEN: A SEPTEMBER 11 STORY</a>; <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ruby-Outside-Nora-Raleigh-Baskin/dp/1442485043/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">RUBY ON THE OUTSIDE</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Anything-Typical-Nora-Raleigh-Baskin/dp/1416995005/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">ANYTHING BUT TYPICAL</a> and many more!). I mean, seriously, it doesn't get better than that. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
So amidst all the muck, stay tuned for great writing from a writing badass in 2017.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year to all. Feel free to share your relinquishments and resolve in the comments below.<br />
<br />
xox gae<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-19001944139127998582016-08-17T05:40:00.005-07:002016-08-17T05:50:00.539-07:00Empty Nest: raw poem (you can never and completely understand)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjgC3eGJRUksPzCoPXLAOjyE9n1AxxNZB6sFzUK0RgEXgdZI-EwGGKDrgJjraa7FbdJuRFywktJYOL7tSgqf4r_d0qsVwt-IcOI3au5bzinqgqmbK_HW-aRqRIGm-Ji9IWts6Q8VM9ek/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjgC3eGJRUksPzCoPXLAOjyE9n1AxxNZB6sFzUK0RgEXgdZI-EwGGKDrgJjraa7FbdJuRFywktJYOL7tSgqf4r_d0qsVwt-IcOI3au5bzinqgqmbK_HW-aRqRIGm-Ji9IWts6Q8VM9ek/s320/unnamed-1.jpg" width="180" /></a>In hotel room bed ten feet from me<br />
but well out of reach<br />
the boy sleeps<br />
fitfully<br />
heady with things I know so<br />
well<br />
things I can never<br />
know<br />
pain i have lived<br />
and can't see,<br />
pain<br />
i can<br />
never save him from.<br />
<br />
The boy<br />
rolls away<br />
away<br />
his vibrating phone<br />
shaking with the texts<br />
that are ever-present these days<br />
<br />
away from where<br />
I sit<br />
sentient<br />
and toward the window<br />
where sunlight filters in.<br />
<br />
He yanks at the sheets,<br />
heady with nerves and<br />
sleepy excitement,<br />
with exhaustion and<br />
fear<br />
and the unknown.<br />
<br />
I sit in a chair<br />
quiet,<br />
unmoving,<br />
a cup of<br />
lukewarm coffee gripped in my aging hand.<br />
<br />
If I don't move maybe I can fool the clock<br />
stop time<br />
hold on just a little more.<br />
<br />
After a half-managed breath,<br />
I pick up the laptop<br />
and type<br />
wise to the truth that<br />
I cannot win<br />
I am nothing more than a deer stuck<br />
in<br />
headlights.<br />
<br />
I take a sip and type<br />
(what I do, what I do. . . )<br />
trying not to notice my shorts-clad legs jutting from the cold metal,<br />
exposed thighs<br />
bearing skin that betrays me more and more these days.<br />
Time marches<br />
Waits for no one.<br />
<br />
The boy sleeps,<br />
but soon he will wake<br />
and I<br />
will<br />
type and type<br />
and<br />
(somehow)<br />
drive away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-24146905550006388862016-02-20T08:11:00.000-08:002016-02-20T08:11:02.852-08:00The ennui of mediocrity... <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFrfqu-0MhcpX_XrVeFt0SbHNWn4eU9DcL1MwG4He1GJc207wUru7lIQMx6O064iF48HIxCiQutrKthl62yFv-N6h0G_UuajbiL3Nu9IAEXlVycFi-Q18JZs9D0pyr6n0xJB2nhAuyfM/s1600/12604951_1216384411709673_4010126750622110381_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFrfqu-0MhcpX_XrVeFt0SbHNWn4eU9DcL1MwG4He1GJc207wUru7lIQMx6O064iF48HIxCiQutrKthl62yFv-N6h0G_UuajbiL3Nu9IAEXlVycFi-Q18JZs9D0pyr6n0xJB2nhAuyfM/s320/12604951_1216384411709673_4010126750622110381_o.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me n' my pink hat after a workout recently</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've had some virus for days. It's had me mostly in bed, which depresses me.<br />
<br />
I had already been a slacking version of my newish-old former self -- the self of my mid-life crisis who swam no matter what, did the laps whether sleet or rain or flu tried to interfere. Sure, maybe like a crazy person, but like a doer, a shaker, a person who could not endure the ennui of sitting around.<br />
<br />
<i>God, I miss her.</i><br />
<br />
She, of course, was in her 40s. This new me? Bah. What a motherfucker.<br />
<br />
I'm feeling in quiet crisis mode. Like I can't get myself to move as fast as the commands in my head are telling me to. To rally to get more done in a day than I am doing. Each day I get up; then it's bed time again.<br />
<br />
It's not even Facebook/social media that's to blame, to tell you the truth. I don't know what it is. Caring for a mother-in-law in palliative care, maybe, or having a constant stream of visitors, or owning a dog, or getting stuck in the minutiae of copyedits when what i want to do is write a bold new story. . .or maybe this new digestive condition (see, above, "What a motherfucker") that has made me give up my only goddamned vice: a daily cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
All I know is, lately, there aren't enough hours in a day and I can't figure out how to stop wasting them.<br />
<br />
And it's making me miss the wild and dramatic energy of my midlife crisis I had a few years ago. Sure I was a mess, somewhat miserable, but, MAN, I got things done. I had things to say. I was funny and fascinating (even a little to me). I got a book deal, then a second. I became an open water swimmer, swam a 5K then a 10K.<br />
<br />
I WAS DOING THINGS.<br />
<br />
And yeah, maybe I'm still doing things, but it all feels slower and more like been there-done that mediocrity.<br />
<br />
Well, except for the book I have coming out which I'm sort of hoping is the best thing I've written so far, and, yeah, I'm excited for it, but I don't want to JUST be waiting for that. And, besides, even if it is. Then what?<br />
<br />
What if everything scintillating becomes mediocrity once it's achieved?<br />
<br />
I've got nothing.<br />
<br />
- gae<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-32423041854694270732015-12-06T08:03:00.003-08:002015-12-06T12:25:37.907-08:00My Not Quite Annual: Revisit, Renew and Resolve 2015 into 2016 Version<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wdoSR1-emMe3bOLzz1HIBPARVK6j4YGahQEFscNjwLbQJckaYwQ4QPnQ0JoZUQNEvWg3eLUZC7gYSZPyIAkKsH5cmLVKIzSi0gSZQmmT-0V1EmMLzy1CJDHIouTWcVgqBUv2W1fed_s/s1600/12249710_1173971065951008_576200069689034853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wdoSR1-emMe3bOLzz1HIBPARVK6j4YGahQEFscNjwLbQJckaYwQ4QPnQ0JoZUQNEvWg3eLUZC7gYSZPyIAkKsH5cmLVKIzSi0gSZQmmT-0V1EmMLzy1CJDHIouTWcVgqBUv2W1fed_s/s320/12249710_1173971065951008_576200069689034853_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's been a mostly good year.<br />
This guy is my constant. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Though I'm a creature of habit, I'm also a fan of "blank slates."<br />
<br />
I'm particularly a fan of resolutions made upon a blank slate: A New Year filled with hope and possibility. I try to shed judgment. I try not to be a cynic and believe. . .<br />
<br />
I like to believe I keep most my resolutions. Going back to past posts can be a fun *coughs* way to check in and see. So, that's what I've done here, and except for the wholly misguided "do <a href="https://blog.myfitnesspal.com/burpees-101-what-they-are-why-we-do-em/" target="_blank">Burpees</a> daily," most years I like to think I've done a good job.<br />
<br />
So, let's find out. I think I'll revisit a few posts past and rate myself on a scale of 1- 10:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b><u>REVISIT</u></b>:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-rs-of-2011-renew-resolve.html" target="_blank">In 2010 into 2011</a> I renewed three long-standing resolutions I have made well in the past:<br />
<br />
(i) take the stairs whenever possible (unless it's more than five flights or I am carrying heavy things):<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">10! </span></b>No seriously, you guys!! I get a <b><span style="font-size: large;">10</span></b> on this one.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0qwwOQkgu8JzJsXJ0H3dZLybbhqrS21Pq5luTuy0fviYB2FnoiZuu5Lufg8zNFgfvZczZxFHfVSvnu4yuD31ESIZXt9cXv6dbev9Fih216b1zOC6KyNuljFWiJKuJm9rmOmyCdO7eMM/s1600/12244646_968352269885173_6339154568923582276_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0qwwOQkgu8JzJsXJ0H3dZLybbhqrS21Pq5luTuy0fviYB2FnoiZuu5Lufg8zNFgfvZczZxFHfVSvnu4yuD31ESIZXt9cXv6dbev9Fih216b1zOC6KyNuljFWiJKuJm9rmOmyCdO7eMM/s320/12244646_968352269885173_6339154568923582276_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">late November in the open water. And I was in yesterday,<br />
December 5th. Not bad. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
(ii) swim whenever possible:<br />
<br />
hmmm. Define "possible."<br />
<br />
Okay, fine, I'm giving myself a <span style="font-size: large;"><b>9</b></span> on this one. A 9. That's not too bad.<br />
<br />
(iii) be a good confidante/friend. Don't gossip or tell secrets others share.<br />
<br />
Crap. In all honesty, I have to go down a point. I can make excuses . . . whatever. . . but this is the reason I renew this every year. I give myself a solid <b style="font-size: x-large;">8. </b>I've done better. Going back to being a 10 on this next year.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2012/12/reflect-and-renew-and-few-wishes-hello.html" target="_blank">In 2012 into 2013</a>, I renewed a few things too. Let's (not) see how I did.<br />
<br />
(i) Less facebook. Shut up. *weeps* Does not rate self. Moves forward (see new fucking resolution below).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbPc69HqNdTZwIyfZmvHkP9nl7D409897-6g-FHoQsLnHSI6OgZoe4lkpfQkmaH-ukkKMW5iyBZE0ilS7REflHXzj8OynF-XzTS_RoUMjE4osIoFCDoSPn_yRUckRje5koZZjC6hNCVc/s1600/unnamed-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbPc69HqNdTZwIyfZmvHkP9nl7D409897-6g-FHoQsLnHSI6OgZoe4lkpfQkmaH-ukkKMW5iyBZE0ilS7REflHXzj8OynF-XzTS_RoUMjE4osIoFCDoSPn_yRUckRje5koZZjC6hNCVc/s320/unnamed-7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, see. that is me yoga'ing in my "piano room."<br />
No, there is no photo of me facebooking. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
(ii) More yoga, less almost going to yoga:<br />
<br />
Well, I've been doing yoga from home (I've had two consecutive studios close since that post and decided for now to just take charge on my own. Have a few yoga videos I love on <a href="http://www.gaia.com/?cid=ppd:brand&mkwid=smB1kaF00&pcrid=85672015928&pkw=gaiam%20tv&pmt=e&pdv=c&gclid=CMar-PnBx8kCFYQfHwodfp8CBg" target="_blank">Gaia TV</a>. I'm giving myself a solid <b><span style="font-size: large;">8</span></b> on this one too.<br />
<br />
(iii) Less talk, more action, and<br />
<br />
(iv) More reading, less TV.<br />
<br />
If I'm being kind to myself, I'll give myself a <span style="font-size: large;"><b>7 - 9</b></span> on these. I plan to renew and do better on both in the new year.<br />
<br />
* a quick word on this: it's hard to take action, it really is. Some people are better at it than you are (I am). Reach out to those who are and "use" them. Let them guide you. There are organizations that will tell you exactly how. If you are as disturbed about the gun violence in our world as I am, three organizations that will walk (and text!) you through it are <a href="http://momsdemandaction.org/" target="_blank">Moms Demand Action for Gunsense in America</a> (you do NOT have to be a Mom to join and they have Dad chapters too!), <a href="http://everytown.org/" target="_blank">Everytown for Gun Safety</a>, and <a href="http://wagv.org/" target="_blank">Women Against Gun Violence</a>. They are all doing the good, hard work for all of us! But they need your support, monetarily and otherwise. Make phone calls, show up at walks, share information. *<br />
<br />
<a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2014/12/2014-into-2015-shifting-and-settling.html" target="_blank">2014 into 2015</a>, skirting about more of the same:<br />
<br />
(i) Burpees: SHUT UP! But more yoga: not bad;<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuybfLS00FtBkD3USav47uxLmhbDMg0me6H9PfSRa2jo1GhEF5LRDjkQYszzFhO0lwQSxIko8aEBO-iXJ5NEJetxzuZ1b5ePtxywzK9r3OGmohNoNkfdFvvjtipolopwGdKUsjsnCQflk/s1600/12190961_1168724799808968_4503430835390945323_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuybfLS00FtBkD3USav47uxLmhbDMg0me6H9PfSRa2jo1GhEF5LRDjkQYszzFhO0lwQSxIko8aEBO-iXJ5NEJetxzuZ1b5ePtxywzK9r3OGmohNoNkfdFvvjtipolopwGdKUsjsnCQflk/s320/12190961_1168724799808968_4503430835390945323_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
(ii) Write more in different genres (a/k/a stretch my writing chops?):<br />
<br />
Well, first of all, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27426071-the-memory-of-things" target="_blank">THE MEMORY OF THINGS</a> which (finally) sold midyear and is due out Fall 2016 from the awesome St. Martin's Press (I am crazy excited about this!!!) is told from two perspectives, and one of those is in free verse. Why yes, I have no business writing half a book in free verse, but I have anyway, and after 4,000 revisions, and with the help of my incredible editor, I think it's really good. Like, really, really good.<br />
<br />
I've also been trying to write some (so far crappy) short stories (hey, they are hard!!) and even sketched out half a crappy (shut up) picture book the other day about an infamous dive. Not a seedy bar, yo. Off a diving board into the water.<br />
<br />
And, yeah, I even revisited my tween/teen/20-something roots and wrote an <a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2015/11/sometimes-you-write-poem.html" target="_blank">angsty poem which I bravely (stupidly?) shared here</a>. And the new manuscript I'm working on is definitely pushing me outside my comfort zone in various ways, so, yeah, I'm giving myself a solid <b><span style="font-size: large;">7</span>3/4<span style="font-size: large;">.</span></b><br />
<br />
(iii) Try something brave and brand new: Well, crap. I meant to. I wanted to. I have three more weeks. *adds it to this year's list*<br />
<br />
Okay, so, here we go:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b><u>RENEW</u></b>:</span><br />
<br />
1. Yep, swimming and yoga. Here's the thing: I never ever regret doing either after I have finished. There is your test right there.<br />
<br />
2. As always, be a better friend and a confidante.<br />
<br />
3. Take the stairs.<br />
<br />
<b><u><span style="color: #351c75;">RESOLVE. . . and RE-RESOLVE</span></u></b>:<br />
<br />
4. Don't be lazy about the little things. a/k/a bend down and pick it up. (This is actually a renew that, for whatever reason I never mentioned before... I'll tell you story behind it in a little "*" below . . .<br />
<br />
5. Do something Brave and New. Stay tuned, motherfuckers. *smiles sweetly* (I have no clue what it is. . . )<br />
<br />
6. Here we go (and <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/29/opinion/sunday/addicted-to-distraction.html?smid=tw-share&_r=1" target="_blank">this New York Times article</a> is really my impetus to do better): Less facebooking/social media and, yes, this includes taking out my phone. I'll still be there on all those places (!) just with more purpose and control. There are tools to help, if you don't know them, like Freedom or Anti-social. I'm committed to keep trying and to keep renewing along the path as I fall off the wagon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rrZa8vuImyn-gTCFvlIitJZhQvkxC6L84Pfrl9hCTuIU5s_C5FGslMDuQjngStPPgXPbTEXJpLKCBWrqSTBz0LEhhYQo6L_gqjvBt4nzHKvlLr4LBAMw0C-ABOLwdLbXxJ7arWeZa44/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-05-31+at+1.17.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rrZa8vuImyn-gTCFvlIitJZhQvkxC6L84Pfrl9hCTuIU5s_C5FGslMDuQjngStPPgXPbTEXJpLKCBWrqSTBz0LEhhYQo6L_gqjvBt4nzHKvlLr4LBAMw0C-ABOLwdLbXxJ7arWeZa44/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-05-31+at+1.17.32+PM.png" width="320" /></a>So that's what I've got solidified for now. I need to think on some of the emotional stuff -- the relinquishing and letting go.<br />
<br />
There's big work to be done there: 2016 is an exciting and tumultuous year for me. A new book coming out. . . and, an empty nest. Can't even think about that second one... I've got some time to shore myself up on these things, and, when all else fails, I can swim.<br />
<br />
Got any resolutions to renew or share? Love to hear them.<br />
<br />
Hope your 2015 has been productive and good. Here's to a new year coming soon!<br />
<br />
- gae<br />
<br />
**Oh, crap. Edited because I forgot to tell you the don't be lazy story. Basically, there's a woman about my age at my gym where i swim in the winter months. She has MS and is relegated to a walker and very slow movement. In the time it takes me to get out of my street clothes, into my bathing suit, showered and into the pool, she has made it across the locker room and gotten herself situated to get undressed for the same routine. It takes her three times the effort it takes me to get ready; three times the effort to swim. Her name is Debra. She's an inspiration to me... always remind myself that it's so easy for me to do the little things: to pick up a piece of paper from the floor, to go back and turn off a dripping faucet more tightly. One day it might not be. At any rate, she -- that woman -- inspires me. <3 p=""><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><!--3--></3>gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-70093496993808753182015-11-13T09:46:00.001-08:002015-11-13T10:08:10.389-08:00Sometimes you write a poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFBHpivlzQadMtOFBvmOEPURikSmBL4S6tXf6wXyzuHqIesbPAnoyavXEdFSG0Q8mCKBicXSM26vsA6k6ldlR0dL1Peh-AYKeB4kC4UX0fxTKr0_WOJay7nVxNHrAvBcrsTmdZpkFs54/s1600/unnamed-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFBHpivlzQadMtOFBvmOEPURikSmBL4S6tXf6wXyzuHqIesbPAnoyavXEdFSG0Q8mCKBicXSM26vsA6k6ldlR0dL1Peh-AYKeB4kC4UX0fxTKr0_WOJay7nVxNHrAvBcrsTmdZpkFs54/s320/unnamed-8.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if it were yesterday,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
as if <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
time hasn’t<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ravaged <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
mellowed <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> A</span>s
if<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I haven’t swum a thousand miles <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
t<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">he salt water</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
detoxing your touch </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
from <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
my skin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>as if I
need you,<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as if you matter one iota,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as if my words don’t fill pages, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as if my photo won’t live on between </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
closed covers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
stacked neatly and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
forgotten<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> A</span>s if the
heart-pounding hadn’t shifted <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
years ago to <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
mere flutters,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
then a<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>flick of <span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">a </span><br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>we smile uncomfortably
across a table <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in a diner I’ve never been.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Longing pulls at</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
my layers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>as if it
can possibly<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>unfold<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>who
I was<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>back
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>then.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As if it
would make a difference.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>In the dream, a waitress in a peach dress pours coffee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The others at our table chat, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
stab at their salads, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
sink teeth into </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
white-bread sandwiches.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> O</span>ur eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>fight to<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>dart
away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>with all
the rage and fury for what you took,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>with all
the affection and <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>gratitude
for what<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>you
gave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still dream about you, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
like a puzzle, like a condundrum,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
like a zen koan not meant to be
solved,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> but </span>that
eats at me anyway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I still dream about you,<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
awaken confused and drenched,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
like a corpse descending the depths,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
resurfacing,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
like a fish </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
glinting<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
through<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
murky water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like a marathoner,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>who never
learned how to run,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> but has covered the miles anyway,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">gaining distance, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> yet always looking back,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wondering if you will </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ever </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
go away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- gae 11/15<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4cgpqOo5dhpgEPHP0RvcfR58bo4XwyQQbA41p0Tua9Aznq0ktJHYBhLnzrmfp-694bom__mGts4b2EP_7qpuOKHaKMKMS4urA5wteHcoP-_IdbWWBi3aEmfEDgp9WB7FDBxYGRjmzQ4/s1600/1459185_754057954608990_109849511_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4cgpqOo5dhpgEPHP0RvcfR58bo4XwyQQbA41p0Tua9Aznq0ktJHYBhLnzrmfp-694bom__mGts4b2EP_7qpuOKHaKMKMS4urA5wteHcoP-_IdbWWBi3aEmfEDgp9WB7FDBxYGRjmzQ4/s320/1459185_754057954608990_109849511_n-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-65712572897694251592015-06-19T07:15:00.002-07:002015-06-19T07:15:51.358-07:00On Hate and Things I Cannot Bear Nor Fathom. . . <span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I have no words for what has happened this week in Charleston, South Carolina, nor for what has happened before Charleston in Ferguson, in Florida, in Aurora, in Newtown, in Laramie, Wyoming, in NYC. . . everywhere, and seemingly will continue to happen because those of us with love in our hearts are so helpless and hapless or, worse, lethargic, in the face of those who are filled with hate, come from a place of ignorance or are, quite simply, inhumane.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I have no words today and so simply share the words of others who have found some profound ones, together with a strong wish and heartfelt plea that:</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br />
<ul style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 32px;">
<li style="padding: 0px 0px 4px 17px;">*you keep speaking up and out against intolerance, violence and hate, </li>
</ul>
<ul style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 32px;">
<li style="padding: 0px 0px 4px 17px;">*you rally when possible, </li>
</ul>
<ul style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 32px;">
<li style="padding: 0px 0px 4px 17px;">*if you are young, especially, you use your smarts, abilities and your words wisely and eloquently to sway others around you who may come from a place of fear or ignorance, and</li>
</ul>
<ul style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 32px;">
<li style="padding: 0px 0px 4px 17px;">*MOST IMPORTANTLY, you VOTE. Vote for candidates who are first and foremost for tolerance, equality, and peace, who are for protecting lives not just IN the womb, but once they are born into the world and living and breathing among us. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5Rfy27SFZkw0qNHwMMki-lvP7yTjXilsLTCVx3_tmNfBL9cuYlIQy5JD8Z7LnesLmFwi4eDyQwzn_2c20OBs6-n0WGaSV3OzuRFRHM0hBhXkF-n-pRFXrAMw2_IQZNipvmzGws_gXRA1/s1600/10153042_913511042024421_6432079952000165480_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #3a6d7e; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5Rfy27SFZkw0qNHwMMki-lvP7yTjXilsLTCVx3_tmNfBL9cuYlIQy5JD8Z7LnesLmFwi4eDyQwzn_2c20OBs6-n0WGaSV3OzuRFRHM0hBhXkF-n-pRFXrAMw2_IQZNipvmzGws_gXRA1/s320/10153042_913511042024421_6432079952000165480_n.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">If you watch or listen to one thing this week on the Charleston tragedy watch this:</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><a href="http://thedailyshow.cc.com/videos/kb2h42/charleston-church-shooting" style="color: #3a6d7e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: none;">JON STEWART on THE DAILY SHOW ON THE CHARLESTON SHOOTING</a><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">And if you're still feeling hopeless after that clip watch the rest of his interview with Malala Yousafzai and consider donating to the </span><a href="http://www.malala.org/" style="color: #3a6d7e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: none;">Malala Fund</a><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">If you read something, this is a good, important thing to read, with the below lead-in by the beautiful author, </span><a href="http://www.katemessner.com/" style="color: #3a6d7e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: none;">Kate Messner</a><span style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">:</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><br />
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"What happened in a Charleston church on Wednesday night is a lot of things, but one thing it's not is "unspeakable." We should speak of it often. We should speak of it loudly." </div>
<div style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-top: 6px;">
This piece is worth reading & thinking about. The man arrested for the horrific church shooting in Charleston may be referred to as a "lone shooter," but a community raised him. We are all responsible for the words we speak, the things we share on our social media pages, and the things we allow others to say, unchecked and unchallenged. I cannot believe we live in a world where this is still happening. We have to do better. <a href="http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/politics/news/a35793/charleston-shooting-discussion/" style="color: #3a6d7e; text-decoration: none;">SPEAKING THE UNSPEAKABLE. . .</a> </div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">If you are a writer and want to do something small to honor librarian Cynthia Hurd:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Donations in her memory can be made to the <a href="http://www.ccpl.org/default.asp" style="color: #3a6d7e; text-decoration: none;">Charleston Public Library </a>c/o Andria Amaral; Charleston County Public Library, 68 Calhoun St., Charleston SC 29401. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Mother Emanuel Church also accepts donations: </span><a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.emanuelamechurch.org%2F&h=hAQE7R-b9&enc=AZMZkl_JObuY1f4xZ2AJCcnKCmWiziIHnpv9Sto8pZJHntn88OIfjG6Ny_O4vtyZjRaAZoCejb6Yp_4qmyaBEfbQiUUbWxE8y4xdYDQRDJGW5N4P38E4xVvMjXHdmmsFo9MsK_yrnOAp0FRTYhPO1AAXRzxK9ZNpW9Kk4pqh2u_XV2YnmqV8Kn2Nsj8U7vBysPKzL066OBLzSMJAAOhZGhXr&s=1" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.emanuelamechurch.org/</a><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">We must find a way to do better,</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;">gae</span></span></span></div>
gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-85569245497154869552015-04-12T07:01:00.001-07:002015-04-12T07:10:03.741-07:00Morning purge last night<br />
lying in bed doing one of my<br />
constant self exams<br />
i found a hard, little, pea-sized lump -- i thought<br />
i did --<br />
the kind they tell you about, the kind<br />
they warn you<br />
about<br />
i panicked<br />
i trembled<br />
i shook -- i couldn't stop shaking --<br />
i said, as my husband held me:<br />
<br />
i am afraid<br />
<br />
i am afraid of everything<br />
i have always been<br />
AFRAID,<br />
<br />
and he wrapped his arms around me and listened,<br />
then eventually<br />
slept,<br />
as i listed the fears<br />
in my head,<br />
as i trembled:<br />
<br />
fear of sickness<br />
fear of death<br />
fear of aging<br />
fear of losing my parents<br />
my sister<br />
my husband,<br />
<br />
FEAR OF LEAVING MY KIDS.<br />
<br />
(fear of my kids leaving me)<br />
<br />
fear of war,<br />
fear of terrorism on home soil,<br />
fear of storms that will lower trees onto our home with a blow<br />
that<br />
razes things.<br />
<br />
fear of fire<br />
fear of police killing innocent men<br />
fear of politicians who seek to spiral our world backwards,<br />
fear of something happening to the goddamned dog.<br />
<br />
(the dog that i didn't even want in the first place,<br />
the dog that looks at me with soulful eyes,<br />
the dog that i love,<br />
that i coddle like a goddamned child,<br />
the dog that,<br />
last night,<br />
as i trembled and shook,<br />
that is not one to cuddle,<br />
got up without a sound<br />
and moved his sweet self from<br />
his usual spot near the bottom of the bed<br />
to the curve of my side<br />
and stayed there<br />
<br />
(goddamned dog)<br />
<br />
fear of my sons being hurt or unsuccessful or sad<br />
(crushingly sad,<br />
brokenly sad),<br />
<br />
fear of global warming of<br />
seas evaporating, of the dry earth scorched,<br />
of glaciers melting<br />
and tornadoes erasing everything in their path.<br />
<br />
fear of a tiny, pea-sized lump<br />
that will terrorize and undo me<br />
<br />
fear that i will not find the strength.<br />
the strength so many others have,<br />
wear like a second skin,<br />
like proof,<br />
like a shining badge of courage,<br />
<br />
fear that the two little books i will leave are nothing<br />
not much,<br />
not really,<br />
do not make a mark<br />
my mark,<br />
do not amount to a hill of beans,<br />
will say nothing about me, about the struggle,<br />
will not show how deeply i loved,<br />
how hard i tried<br />
how much i wanted to amount to more than<br />
a carbon footprint<br />
<br />
last night i could not stop shaking,<br />
i told myself not to check and recheck, but i did,<br />
because i am weak,<br />
because i fear<br />
(i fear<br />
i fear. . .)<br />
i fear.<br />
<br />
and the pea-sized lump had moved, was less, was maybe<br />
not so hard,<br />
was maybe not there<br />
anymore...<br />
<br />
but still, i kept trembling,<br />
and feeling<br />
<br />
i lay awake<br />
dog pressed to my side<br />
wondering<br />
if i will have the strength,<br />
a fight,<br />
if i will find the joy<br />
in the hardest parts,<br />
<br />
<br />
if i can find the grace.gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-85281455472212902182015-01-13T10:53:00.001-08:002015-01-13T11:07:11.267-08:00aging with (fucking) grace, a rambling and curse-filled post.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzK3VBj6vV5csDMLuCzeA3r1y4zIDj_FqAszw6PyrZD9GLvf5sGEikFQ9mHKw-muiiWMDeVOBKunS3UVRrUPNklT63ByEmkYAxodUwFTmyCUjPekZEi3z_4TWLuWA7UoEwX2FeMpTVnU/s1600/gae+jan+2015+funny+face+monkey+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzK3VBj6vV5csDMLuCzeA3r1y4zIDj_FqAszw6PyrZD9GLvf5sGEikFQ9mHKw-muiiWMDeVOBKunS3UVRrUPNklT63ByEmkYAxodUwFTmyCUjPekZEi3z_4TWLuWA7UoEwX2FeMpTVnU/s1600/gae+jan+2015+funny+face+monkey+hat.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I'm trying.<br />
<br />
Really. (Sort of).<br />
<br />
I'm trying to be (fucking) graceful about this aging bullshit.<br />
<br />
After all, I admire so many people who are.<br />
<br />
In fact, when I think of the people my age and older who I admire, they are the ones who are aging with (fucking) grace.<br />
<br />
They don't complain (at least not to me),<br />
they embrace.<br />
<br />
Embrace grace. How fucking Seussical.<br />
<br />
My whole growing up, I felt judged by my family (sorry family, I love you, but there you have it) for being shallow about superficial things. Like my looks. My body. My hair.<br />
<br />
No crease could be left unflattened in my Jordache jeans when I left the house in the mornings;<br />
<br />
the alarm got set an hour early so I could work on my perfectly-feathered hair.<br />
<br />
And, yes, I kept a calendar of what I wore each school day so as not to commit the offense of repeating a single outfit in a given week (so sue me. . . and did I really think anyone of value was actually paying attention to such a thing?)<br />
<br />
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So, then, I guess in some ways, I was. Shallow, about that shit, I mean.<br />
<br />
It was hard to be a teen girl, then and now. Same as it is hard to be a grown woman, then and now. Maybe moreso, a woman over 40.<br />
<br />
50. *coughs*<br />
<br />
Right or wrong, so much of our identity as a gender is still tied to how we look. If you think it isn't, you're kidding yourselves. In some ways, I think this is awful. In other ways -- and I guess some would view this as anti-feminist of me -- but I actually think it's normal and okay. Or at least unavoidable as a society as we are. It's simply, how it is.<br />
<br />
At times, I truly enjoy our gender differences, and admire good looks, admire someone who takes care of their physical body. I also admire physically many people who aren't typically handsome or beautiful, know seriously overweight people who I think are stunningly beautiful.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's wrong of me, but I loved watching the beautiful faces and bodies parade on and off the stage at the Golden Globes . . . and, though a bit of a brouhaha apparently erupted on twitter over <a href="http://www.eonline.com/news/614011/jeremy-renner-tells-twitterverse-not-to-take-this-s-t-so-serious-after-being-slammed-for-joke-about-jennifer-lopez-s-boobs" target="_blank">Jeremy Renner's rather obvious comment to JLo about her Golden Globes</a>, what else was JLo wanting, actively seeking, but to invite admiration of her female assets by wearing that dress? Am I missing something here?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqn3kllvX-yqMwj25aofPQUzP0LKK2nESTcq2M5J6hMmqAZ9fGF4LjqUzj7SVO4OrfiklG0IVnImRKBBNdbkQnCwh6GJ0aX8yXLIV8z9u7PIpiTWD2gkIZT32biGGt0JFi6F1-4bBexqQ/s1600/Gae+HS+close+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqn3kllvX-yqMwj25aofPQUzP0LKK2nESTcq2M5J6hMmqAZ9fGF4LjqUzj7SVO4OrfiklG0IVnImRKBBNdbkQnCwh6GJ0aX8yXLIV8z9u7PIpiTWD2gkIZT32biGGt0JFi6F1-4bBexqQ/s1600/Gae+HS+close+up.jpg" height="270" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With perfect hair and my usual HS scowl,<br />
pre-nose job, 1982.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, yeah, my looks have always mattered to me, which was hard since I haven't always been a fan of how I looked. After all, by the time I hit puberty, I wore glasses and braces and was diagnosed with scoliosis which was going to require me to wear a large plastic brace on my back -- not the best fashion accessory for a teenage girl.<br />
<br />
Moreover, by puberty, my previously-cute button nose had taken on a strong hereditary Semitic bump (and low dip) that both my boys now have, which is wearable and even handsome (IMHO) on a boy, but not so much on a girl.<br />
<br />
As I was already being badly bullied in high school, it was unbearable to not at least feel pretty when I left the house on a given day. Maybe a less superficial person could have hacked it.<br />
<br />
At any rate, hate me or love me for it, my looks were always an integral part of who I was, how I viewed myself, and, yes, sometimes, I think, were tied to how I succeeded at certain things. Certainly, post nose-job, I could walk into a room feeling like I'd make a positive first impression. I wanted to look good, I wanted to feel pretty, and I wanted others to think the same of me.<br />
<br />
Having said all that, I personally don't think I was shallow or superficial. You may disagree. Really what I wanted most in the world, was what we all want: to feel good about myself, to feel loved and admired, to have friends, and to feel confident in my life. I also cared WAY more deeply about who I was on the inside, and how I treated others, and the good things I did, and so I'm not sure why that so often got lost in the translation.<br />
<br />
At any rate, I struggled then, and still do now as so many others do, when I look in a mirror and don't love what I see.<br />
<br />
Don't love my body -- the too-full figure, the cellulite on the thighs.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTv-mnSBHuXGJRDG7j6ZHddp6ARlH4S2ZI6HOTDRbUW2Uum1dg1cX_SiAoEoGXRNBo2Fv6rReZPPUO2b_g10zvIHiOueWCFy-VxMO7NLPdklReDsSWZkj_xySFD3duTdjkM9nUqxpDq0/s1600/wetsuit+gae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTv-mnSBHuXGJRDG7j6ZHddp6ARlH4S2ZI6HOTDRbUW2Uum1dg1cX_SiAoEoGXRNBo2Fv6rReZPPUO2b_g10zvIHiOueWCFy-VxMO7NLPdklReDsSWZkj_xySFD3duTdjkM9nUqxpDq0/s1600/wetsuit+gae.jpg" height="320" width="227" /></a></div>
<br />
Then, in my early forties (!!!) something sort of miraculous happened: I was in the best shape of my life AND I liked the way I looked! <br />
<br />
I think three things coincided to make this happen,<br />
<br />
one bad (I went through a period of midlife crisis depression and literally couldn't eat much and lost every ounce of body fat I'd ever had)<br />
<br />
and two good: I began swimming religiously -- often several miles a week by my mid-forties-- and my body, for the first time post-baby was lean and mean, and I finally got a book deal and was, for the first time, really doing something in my life I had fought hard for and only dreamed of for a long while.<br />
<br />
At any rate. It was fun. It was exhilarating, especially since so many other good and fun things were going on.<br />
<br />
Alas, fast forward to 2015.<br />
<br />
My forties are somehow, unfathomably, gone.<br />
<br />
Late into them, <a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2012/05/ceci-nest-pas-une-pipe-theres-age-spot.html" target="_blank">an age spot appeared on my hand</a>. I kid you not, it mocks me daily. Once in a while, I take out a pen and draw a smiley face inside of it. I'd like to tell you that helps.<br />
<br />
Late into my forties, the also-hereditary prominent eye bags started really appearing under my eyes. My flat stomach lost shape and the skin got looser around my mid-section.<br />
<br />
And my hands. Oh dear lord, my fucking hands.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuj7rF-rE0O-3g5gHBTF2QwA-yzS2PPCztE6vdgX3bDcGbw_1rIH04yGlAqSC9gi9cLiEkRii1LmQQ5zuYZOvBhZXQoW4SgNT1SMKl4R35gXTL7TKXEQL3bGbFqFSOfr3VmrOHEjO6Skc/s1600/gae+with+ginger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuj7rF-rE0O-3g5gHBTF2QwA-yzS2PPCztE6vdgX3bDcGbw_1rIH04yGlAqSC9gi9cLiEkRii1LmQQ5zuYZOvBhZXQoW4SgNT1SMKl4R35gXTL7TKXEQL3bGbFqFSOfr3VmrOHEjO6Skc/s1600/gae+with+ginger.jpg" height="226" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my mother on my 50th birthday. <br />
And, yes, I am wearing a tiara.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have this particular recollection from when I was in my early twenties I think, of my beautiful mother lamenting how old her hands had become.<br />
<br />
She must have been in her late forties, then.<br />
<br />
We were in her bedroom, I, lazing on her bed, she getting ready for some function.<br />
<br />
I told her she was being silly, and she walked over and she pinched the skin on the top of her hand, and showed me how inelastic it had become, and, thus, how long it took it to resettle. I gave her the typical eye roll and she showed me on my hand, the difference, pinched the skin on mine which immediately shot back down.<br />
<br />
My hands have become her hands back then. I'm sure she doesn't want to talk about her hands now.<br />
<br />
This morning, I sat on the floor playing with the dog, and bottoms of my feet. . . so cracked and dry. . .well, I don't even want to talk about that. . .<br />
<br />
And don't get me started on my thighs in downward dog. <br />
<br />
No one over fifty should ever go into downward dog. Well, at least without long pants on.<br />
<br />
So, I'm trying. I really am. To embrace my own aging with grace. I'm really fucking wanting to be graceful.<br />
<br />
My gorgeous, fucking kickass, goddess writer friend <a href="http://marryinggeorgeclooney.com/blog/" target="_blank">Amy Ferris</a> wrote this the other day:<br />
<br />
<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">courAGE.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">i've decided today that's my new age.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">it looks just like 60, but with a little extra OOOOOMPH.</span></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQLWUZmVtagdn7hBcTxBieodp-K6lOL2N1kUVmtSigbHLkKOzluuaJjhWyz_RO6eleLaBD_UeW_lbb6P6IkyegRqAnm5jn3BLtKSnM-45Z7ipV_uVdAwD7_fxMe15p2n7tBJUas9OTNg/s1600/CourAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQLWUZmVtagdn7hBcTxBieodp-K6lOL2N1kUVmtSigbHLkKOzluuaJjhWyz_RO6eleLaBD_UeW_lbb6P6IkyegRqAnm5jn3BLtKSnM-45Z7ipV_uVdAwD7_fxMe15p2n7tBJUas9OTNg/s1600/CourAGE.jpg" height="92" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm trying to emulate her. Be brave. Be kickass. Embrace this fifty bullshit with grace.<br />
<br />
Embrace the changing body, the thinning hair that's lost all its luster . . .<br />
<br />
the aching back, sore hips and knees and shoulder (okay, that last one probably more a hazard of all the miles swum than my age, but still. . .).<br />
<br />
I'm trying to remind myself I swam a fucking 10K last summer.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to hold on to the truth that the numbers are arbitrary and just numbers.<br />
<br />
I'm always grateful. I promise. Please don't tell me in the comments to be grateful, because I swear I am. And don't tell me I look good, because what most of you see is photoshopped anyway.<br />
<br />
Besides, it's really NOT the point.<br />
<br />
And, yes, I see so many others struggling with real health problems and I kiss the ground for this body -- this very one! -- that has done its work so beautifully, so strongly, without too many major disruptions, kept healthy for me, and keeps carrying me along. I swear, I am not without the right priorities and gratitude. In fact, I'm usually overwhelmed by an aching sense of gratitude toward my random dumb luck in this hard, hard world.<br />
<br />
But I am also my physical body. At least for now. And I am struggling to view it with grace. <br />
<br />
Fucking grace. It keeps on eluding me.<br />
<br />
- gaegae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-14099328715653962272014-12-30T09:01:00.000-08:002014-12-30T20:33:23.714-08:002014 into 2015: Shifting (and Settling) Sands (Renew, Resolve, and Relinquish Redux)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoagS_2h0iEXpH9xbsTQil5K2QKnB0uBzL1Dt_xI9lGfxhkhFqaRflgNnVl4ihizwDWJFexgQaYvkKmJi0W9imjbFXPig6XiugYTtqsak6s0MROqp5HMqI3-_wxNE_1H8wDwPEHIsSZU/s1600/gae+christmas+2014+black+&+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoagS_2h0iEXpH9xbsTQil5K2QKnB0uBzL1Dt_xI9lGfxhkhFqaRflgNnVl4ihizwDWJFexgQaYvkKmJi0W9imjbFXPig6XiugYTtqsak6s0MROqp5HMqI3-_wxNE_1H8wDwPEHIsSZU/s1600/gae+christmas+2014+black+&+blue.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Study in blue. . . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I shouldn't be blogging as I am steeped in revisions on a deadline, if mostly a self-imposed one.<br />
<br />
Still, old habits die hard, and if I don't blog, this New Year is going to roll in in utter silence from me... with the saddest little whimper on record.<br />
<br />
Well. it appears it's likely going to do so anyway.<br />
<br />
The sands of my life they are a shifting. Starting with New Years Eve.<br />
<br />
For the first time in seventeen years, I will be ringing in this new year's eve quietly.<br />
<br />
Without either of my children at home.<br />
<br />
Without their friends or mine.<br />
<br />
Without the food, and festivities, and the noisemakers,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQa9ZnloA6pyEVIrBi03NmhpZB2-V9l7Am25mNPnCjH-92y4LOAUasH3EPIgISHGQF9e0NZsztH6i1U4-wA8QTHGH1Zv1wmHP5XXMEgXTJRza8qJ8J75KvK2mD6T-BH4BtXJPoci4jF0s/s1600/Midnight_+_one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQa9ZnloA6pyEVIrBi03NmhpZB2-V9l7Am25mNPnCjH-92y4LOAUasH3EPIgISHGQF9e0NZsztH6i1U4-wA8QTHGH1Zv1wmHP5XXMEgXTJRza8qJ8J75KvK2mD6T-BH4BtXJPoci4jF0s/s1600/Midnight_+_one.jpg" height="313" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Years Eve 2010-11 Photo credit: Rick Kopstein<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">without the party guests,</span></span><br />
<div style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-size: small;">and the glow sticks and the confetti in the air.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoizNoiwLbvciJLPQI8NKwNgDkRZFRdqQoiD0u7FBzy5tJWYzQE23vxc3N4P5ZbkQfgfcda0_EyiIN0RSN-0dpg2HEWbQ_A3eyvnxqj2zsxEW3u06F61Lacb6pBIxX3kdWn5f9g0uXiY/s1600/P1040270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoizNoiwLbvciJLPQI8NKwNgDkRZFRdqQoiD0u7FBzy5tJWYzQE23vxc3N4P5ZbkQfgfcda0_EyiIN0RSN-0dpg2HEWbQ_A3eyvnxqj2zsxEW3u06F61Lacb6pBIxX3kdWn5f9g0uXiY/s1600/P1040270.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011-12 photo credit: Rick Kopstein</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInWdFDdXksRe0-129rqri-vs1dhpWlGnqFGjieKv4MX_7KelFabusoRHF0jLokEhFVuOIH5oaexbrtZIa5Mov5uJeV7jTIeoCWOUCr30gwbM-1SZaUK1q3m8Gm7UtK5yLLArrOeYWDZY/s1600/DSC_5076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInWdFDdXksRe0-129rqri-vs1dhpWlGnqFGjieKv4MX_7KelFabusoRHF0jLokEhFVuOIH5oaexbrtZIa5Mov5uJeV7jTIeoCWOUCr30gwbM-1SZaUK1q3m8Gm7UtK5yLLArrOeYWDZY/s1600/DSC_5076.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012-13. . . and so on... photo credit: Rick Kopstein</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The writing has been on the wall.<br />
<br />
Each year for the past four, a group of kids has aged out, gone off to college, stopped by on their way to and from other plans.<br />
<br />
The girls whose faces I painted,<br />
<br />
who made wearable art jewelry with me,<br />
<br />
whose New Year's Eve henna tattoos lasted for weeks after they'd all gone home.<br />
<br />
And the boys,<br />
<br />
who eagerly arrived to dinosaur scavenger hunts before retiring to the basement for video games and pizza.<br />
<br />
Who fought over glow sticks, who trashed my floor with spilled sodas and scarred my ceiling with exploding caps from holiday "crackers," which half made me cringe, but more made me smile, at the sheer fact of it.<br />
<br />
Of the fact that we all were here.<br />
<br />
For seventeen years, on this one night, we were all here.<br />
<br />
Somehow, I thought I had more time.<br />
<br />
This year, most of the adults bowed out, their children off on their own adventures, they too have decided to make new plans. In the city for fancier dinners. For theater or concerts,<br />
<br />
off to celebrate with their grown children.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqev_KPD_35xwvl0h5pO-mOuusXoPC8QllB01w3JZ9qjxQl6_iwyYaOXa6d7218fv98Mk612vUKZDxpIwFiX41iN3uCw7ER5mVcmqMl_-d4u_CAFzC-R0246QKRX_jvPU_JDpJY6llOw/s1600/DSC_5179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqev_KPD_35xwvl0h5pO-mOuusXoPC8QllB01w3JZ9qjxQl6_iwyYaOXa6d7218fv98Mk612vUKZDxpIwFiX41iN3uCw7ER5mVcmqMl_-d4u_CAFzC-R0246QKRX_jvPU_JDpJY6llOw/s1600/DSC_5179.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">glow sticks headband in the aftermath. . . </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Other plans.<br />
<br />
My youngest son feels the weight of it too -- "I looked forward to it every year, Mom. It was magic," but he too, is ready to move on.<br />
<br />
Needs to move on.<br />
<br />
Like sand in the hour glass. . .<br />
<br />
But, oh, how that sand rushes through.<br />
<br />
<br />
So, I'm trying to be big about it.<br />
<br />
Accepting.<br />
<br />
But I'm a creature of habit, especially when the habit is having my children.<br />
<br />
Yet, I have to accept. Let the sand settle down all around me.<br />
<br />
Accepting, I think, is the buzz word of our fifties.<br />
<br />
But how to accept without atrophying?<br />
<br />
This post is a mess. I apologize.<br />
<br />
I meant to be witty, make lists. I mean to resolve, and I will. Yes, that's what I meant to do.<br />
<br />
I like to resolve and many of them I actually keep, even some of the bigger ones. Take these from 2010: http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-rs-of-2011-renew-resolve.html<br />
<br />
although the burpees may have fallen by the wayside. . .<br />
<br />
But it is nice to go back, reflect on some of the things I've accomplished. I know I feel like I have less energy and resolve than I had in 2010, so it gives me incentive to make new goals, to set them in (virtual) stone, and give myself less of a chance to just settle here. <br />
<br />
So in echo of 2010 into '11, here are my 2014 into '15 R&R's:<br />
<br />
<b><u>Renew</u></b>: see, e.g. 2010, yes even the burpees, if more of a yogic burpee... (http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-rs-of-2011-renew-resolve.html);<br />
<br />
<b><u>Resolve</u></b>:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwdeaMDub5dlGnahcvNV5mv1t2V_sKPXKtUaleoH4yAPYKqqzVbzGwdrbL-mlMiB7oEnToBFInvMqMr6ced0FtewLYRwrD7BQuyWOJuG7THL-CjJaaBAINsezExvzGAhBs6Id2F5XJCU/s1600/yoga+gae+2+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwdeaMDub5dlGnahcvNV5mv1t2V_sKPXKtUaleoH4yAPYKqqzVbzGwdrbL-mlMiB7oEnToBFInvMqMr6ced0FtewLYRwrD7BQuyWOJuG7THL-CjJaaBAINsezExvzGAhBs6Id2F5XJCU/s1600/yoga+gae+2+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yoga me, circa 2012...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><i><u>more yoga, less sitting</u></i></b>. 50-year old bodies need both the flexibility and balance of a yoga practice. I don't love yoga, but I'm convinced of this in my (very achy joints and) bones;<br />
<br />
<b><i><u>more writing in new genres.</u></i></b> I have always wanted to write a picture book, a play, and am suddenly interested in writing short stories, which never appealed to me before, so that's cool). I have a collaborative project about to go out on submission, and I also have started to explore new publishing options for some of my unpublished work, at least the work that has garnered the approval of at least one reputable NYC literary agent (if not two or three, which some of them have!) and one reputable editor, but never made it through "acquisitions" for whatever various marketplace reasons.<br />
<br />
<b><u><i>Try something brave and brand new</i></u></b>. Stay tuned. I don't know what this is. It could be a longer swim (which means longer than a 10K which could be hard!) or a swim in a brand new environment. It could be the new publishing endeavors (see above) or it could be something brand new and exciting all together.<br />
<br />
This I know, I have to do something. It's the new things, the brave things, that keep us from feeling irrelevant.<br />
<br />
<b><i><u>Relinquish.</u></i></b><br />
<br />
Social media. Not altogether, no. But it has to give. It has to make room for more permanent successes. This one is hard for me. To find the balance. And, equally, to find the discipline.<br />
<br />
My view of myself and my physical body. I need to stay in shape because it's healthy and invigorating. But one glance at my legs in downward dog makes it clear there is no holding on to that body.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjf9ZLsibS1O8HQYbshIbtOeRnv07_8-ZAEAom-NdRcFUxo8oyTp9CEUuhTnRaY8jAjhrKqG4DMmda5cuCyFTnJHeesKueGEDqFjKbUIxIYaXgrvDXKUb9_MFpvXxhHVdg1L4vV8sJIro/s1600/Holden+and+Sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjf9ZLsibS1O8HQYbshIbtOeRnv07_8-ZAEAom-NdRcFUxo8oyTp9CEUuhTnRaY8jAjhrKqG4DMmda5cuCyFTnJHeesKueGEDqFjKbUIxIYaXgrvDXKUb9_MFpvXxhHVdg1L4vV8sJIro/s1600/Holden+and+Sam.jpg" height="148" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
My children as they were,<br />
<br />
<br />
embracing all that I can hold on to:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
the wonderful young men that they are now.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGdfbfwEc3K3MxOhLzwaVV3Y8JqDe9iXzuUryqZaRkdwSTqoJhAApmvVzJr8j5Lu1IZIK7lgJ13GkQBckRiguWeAFuCXM84CZzrSgCs7eMjN4rt4HcSP_-cReDyfrLHvhvZp0nE4Mnh8/s1600/Sam+and+Ham+Geneseo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGdfbfwEc3K3MxOhLzwaVV3Y8JqDe9iXzuUryqZaRkdwSTqoJhAApmvVzJr8j5Lu1IZIK7lgJ13GkQBckRiguWeAFuCXM84CZzrSgCs7eMjN4rt4HcSP_-cReDyfrLHvhvZp0nE4Mnh8/s1600/Sam+and+Ham+Geneseo.jpg" height="320" width="270" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is a process. I'm figuring out how to let go.<br />
<br />
It helps when I hear them sing and play guitar.<br />
<br />
https://soundcloud.com/samuelgraymiller/that-western-skyline-cover<br />
<br />
https://soundcloud.com/holden-miller-1<br />
<br />
But, man, what an unfathomably short time we get to borrow them. . .<br />
<br />
Relinquish: so many things. Let go.<br />
<br />
Move forward, rather than stew. After all, 2014 has been good. It's seen the release of my new book, seen me complete a 10K in the open water. Seen Son One really find his place socially, have success with his music, know he's good. See Son Two make the varsity basketball team, himself become a really good musician.<br />
<br />
For all of us, it's been full of successes and struggles, accolades and "rejection."<br />
<br />
But more than anything, we're lucky. It's been good.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpJTPApDZoMbSDxNS7pYUCdylRapelnNohHXXhR6_6l7CCY7YgHVXVHG_i5LnoGxJj5amizTgu27p4mx0PWmQ2qQXBCu1XgnjIuiQ-06zGnEZsFUexoAufrk5sYW_65oVO3KXeylIpHk/s1600/gae+and+david+atlantic+city+20th+anniversary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpJTPApDZoMbSDxNS7pYUCdylRapelnNohHXXhR6_6l7CCY7YgHVXVHG_i5LnoGxJj5amizTgu27p4mx0PWmQ2qQXBCu1XgnjIuiQ-06zGnEZsFUexoAufrk5sYW_65oVO3KXeylIpHk/s1600/gae+and+david+atlantic+city+20th+anniversary.jpg" height="319" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And so, if I ring it in quietly with my husband and our dog, and a list of things I still need to do -- want to do -- what can be blue?<br />
<br />
How can I be anything but grateful?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFypZ1Dpk-XGAz0qKrcDMBXY81b6QvgMJpyxMomRJ0MCNbKNm0aPUGzdGgkEsnH9ncjznTKGOvRCtsEA8-rxnAq9BY-WB8GlZgNKbW_R01KrBxolBL-JBHr6pBcAGuQW7oSqdLuIKe5Xc/s1600/Charlie+at+West+Neck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFypZ1Dpk-XGAz0qKrcDMBXY81b6QvgMJpyxMomRJ0MCNbKNm0aPUGzdGgkEsnH9ncjznTKGOvRCtsEA8-rxnAq9BY-WB8GlZgNKbW_R01KrBxolBL-JBHr6pBcAGuQW7oSqdLuIKe5Xc/s1600/Charlie+at+West+Neck.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie at the edge of shifting sands... photo credit: Laurie Capobianco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Wishing you all a peaceful, healthy New Year full of hope and love.<br />
<br />
xox gae<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-88138058567822217312014-10-29T10:47:00.004-07:002014-10-29T11:39:08.025-07:00Things I've done. Things I want to do...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nSseQY4SyIVCW7ImdwVUD2ZUY4EssdHTJpYkLCUTZRaZrmjFatuF-eEjvRWM77mQiS_Z2flKhvWiE0zEr6hwmnikJKwF_QxSheUrxT4YXiCeniO8QTdor8TY6pNu6Py2lMBCDb2kcig/s1600/gae+black+and+white+late+sept+14+2+pm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nSseQY4SyIVCW7ImdwVUD2ZUY4EssdHTJpYkLCUTZRaZrmjFatuF-eEjvRWM77mQiS_Z2flKhvWiE0zEr6hwmnikJKwF_QxSheUrxT4YXiCeniO8QTdor8TY6pNu6Py2lMBCDb2kcig/s1600/gae+black+and+white+late+sept+14+2+pm.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me, a few days ago or so...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I turned fifty in July.<br />
<br />
Fif-tee.<br />
<br />
I keep saying (and typing) the word, because i don't really believe it. Otherwise, I'd probably be less quick to admit it.<br />
<br />
Fifty.<br />
<br />
I think 50, and I think: that is simply UNFATHOMABLE.<br />
<br />
Then the line from Princess Bride pops in my head:<br />
<br />
"<span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333330154419px; line-height: 18.1999988555908px;">You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."</span><br />
<br />
So, here I am. Fifty. Well, actually, more than three months in.<br />
<br />
I've done a lot in the past ten years I never thought in a million years I might do. Actually succeed at. I didn't even imagine a few...<br />
<br />
Like,<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Swam a 10K plus (7+ miles) in the open water (probably clocking close to 200 miles of open water swimming each season for the past several years);</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Swam in waters as cold as 37 degrees;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Secured three agents, two book deals, and have written eight manuscripts;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Got two manuscripts published -- <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Pull-Gravity-Gae-Polisner/dp/1250019338" target="_blank">The Pull of Gravity</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Summer-Letting-Go-Gae-Polisner/dp/1616202564/ref=la_B004GBJ8RU_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414604136&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Summer of Letting Go</a> -- by two of the most prestigious (or at least literary) publishing houses in history: Algonquin and fsg; and</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Was well-reviewed in the <a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CB4QFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nytimes.com%2F2014%2F05%2F11%2Fbooks%2Freview%2Flove-letters-to-the-dead-and-the-summer-of-letting-go.html&ei=riVRVJPNEOKHsQS9voGIBg&usg=AFQjCNEMv8KqR0ubKOlD3YxUUmfWdXCRRA&sig2=Ahur4bZC66eHL5VWP7as1Q&bvm=bv.78597519,d.cWc" target="_blank">Sunday New York Times Book Review</a> (say, what?)</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFa_yh8ddCmWzMktaNMVlBS03SabA8GupeLhihRyA5FDUHCU5KEghlk1Jae6GRooiSumlHHl9MvW-SwSwbRD1Pcyhrn2Seut1rYNS1Qnc4a5LKijHUBM8WH1qHTnJk-9oeUk5PY73oOE/s1600/NYT+snip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFa_yh8ddCmWzMktaNMVlBS03SabA8GupeLhihRyA5FDUHCU5KEghlk1Jae6GRooiSumlHHl9MvW-SwSwbRD1Pcyhrn2Seut1rYNS1Qnc4a5LKijHUBM8WH1qHTnJk-9oeUk5PY73oOE/s1600/NYT+snip.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
</ul>
<div>
Still, there are many days I feel like an utter slacker. Like I'm wasting time and I'm going to have a thousand regrets... Like the clock is ticking and there's so much I want to do. . . </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>get another (effing) YA ms published (for Pete's sake);</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Publish my second piece of unpublished women's fiction, THE SWIMMING SEASON, if I can't get a traditional publisher to take it by year's end, with a hybrid or curated press... big brave move I'm not sure I'm ready for...</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>write a picture book;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>write a play;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>do more yoga;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>read more;</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>teach creative writing; <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1J8RlpjOVqgmgnQrxAMSl-_3-BpukA8RRWDHqXFxEzy8O5IsVRq-R0-TaLAolJ39T_V9Q3hNH0fjLoMoj2nLiHl0_TMQKkMJBFzVPDXYrWTKYLBZr23FiEiN54VJFi36j1_jjkqTwtDk/s1600/Gae+and+AKW+complete+a+10K,jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1J8RlpjOVqgmgnQrxAMSl-_3-BpukA8RRWDHqXFxEzy8O5IsVRq-R0-TaLAolJ39T_V9Q3hNH0fjLoMoj2nLiHl0_TMQKkMJBFzVPDXYrWTKYLBZr23FiEiN54VJFi36j1_jjkqTwtDk/s1600/Gae+and+AKW+complete+a+10K,jpg.jpg" height="121" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing the 10K+ with Annmarie this past summer!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>swim from Long Island to Connecticut (oh, come on, Annmarie, you know you want to); </li>
<li><br /></li>
<li>and</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>contribute more charitably/be involved/try to make a difference in our world.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Some days, I'm full of productivity. Other's I'm a total slug. I do a lot of starting and stopping, too much starting and stopping these days. The writing, especially, is hard. So much easier to veg out in front of The Voice, or facebook when the going gets tough, and the words aren't flowing, and the water is freaking cold.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I'm fifty. And I have a whole lot I still want to do.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-gae</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-61966326877672988552014-10-10T09:08:00.002-07:002014-10-10T09:08:34.912-07:00Falling, Failing and Chutes & Ladders Redux (with essential footnotes that should be read contemporaneously with the piece)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgnBgPwXIvWK_-9x_TwtQI_YsIwybGykWcD81ZjKmw8YD26LPJunReZBtJ69TSLGjuHP45-Kn2hTbsCwK9qshFFBlyNWVgUxscLR_2A4vo0jB9LSRzSZci6rIPojKw5aOGHT0WTZZwMPI/s1600/fall+gae+in+blues+with+leavs.jgp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgnBgPwXIvWK_-9x_TwtQI_YsIwybGykWcD81ZjKmw8YD26LPJunReZBtJ69TSLGjuHP45-Kn2hTbsCwK9qshFFBlyNWVgUxscLR_2A4vo0jB9LSRzSZci6rIPojKw5aOGHT0WTZZwMPI/s1600/fall+gae+in+blues+with+leavs.jgp.jpg" height="200" width="161" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me, trying to accept the fall...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One of the most interesting things about being a parent is trying to take your own advice. Or at least the advice of others you dispense to your own kids freely. Like this awesome <a href="https://medium.com/thoughts-for-thinking-women/two-words-of-advice-for-all-college-freshmen-996008f0c5c5">advice from Kelly Corrigan about failing</a> that I've been dispensing to my college son for weeks:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9EGNT997hrqvI7oC49hL5c1tT1kbSAhuiGcEB9EPo_MxZdt0S1VWBUDk39NDI4ykT_BzAHL_IS_vl7H1k_IVp42GriQmaUcs4k22Tr98TljRZIoyWB8QQeyVfDcY57FkDup4DWKpNThV/s1600/Dont+cramp+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9EGNT997hrqvI7oC49hL5c1tT1kbSAhuiGcEB9EPo_MxZdt0S1VWBUDk39NDI4ykT_BzAHL_IS_vl7H1k_IVp42GriQmaUcs4k22Tr98TljRZIoyWB8QQeyVfDcY57FkDup4DWKpNThV/s1600/Dont+cramp+up.jpg" height="123" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://medium.com/thoughts-for-thinking-women/two-words-of-advice-for-all-college-freshmen-996008f0c5c5">Great advice from Kelly Corrigan, from this terrific speech</a>,<br />that I've been dispensing to my kids freely.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I mean, I love that.<br />
<br />
I love that so, so much.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, I handed in my next young adult manuscript -- one called <a href="http://www.dystel.com/newsletter/childrens-and-young-adult-newsletter-10-october-2014/">THE MEMORY OF THINGS</a>, which I think may be my favorite ever -- to my amazing, smart, wonderful, cherished editor at <a href="http://algonquinyoungreaders.com/">Algonquin Young Readers</a>, who unceremoniously <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn1</b></span> turned it down.<br />
<br />
If you don't know the stinging-sharp, kick-in-the-gut pain of rejection, made ten-fold worse by being rejected by someone you know and love, whose approval you deeply seek and desire, then you might as well not bother to keep reading.<br />
<br />
But if you do, then follow along with me, here.<br />
<br />
This has been my writing life. Most writers' writing life. This constant rejection, coupled with self-doubt, that only gets compounded by more rejection. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn2</b></span><br />
<br />
I wrote about the path-- my path -- of trying to get my books published maybe best here, in one of my most popular blog posts ever called <a href="http://ghpolisner.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-writing-life-chutes-and-ladders.html">My Writing Life: Chutes & Ladders</a>. So, when my current editor turned down my current manuscript, I had to remind myself of this: that my prior editor had turned down the manuscript that my current editor loved and nurtured and bought. <i>This</i> is the subjective nature of writing, of making, or trying to make, art.<br />
<br />
And, so. Now I set out to find that new editor, the perfect-fit one who will help spin this new, worthy manuscript into gold. . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPkoB1c9LTdz0RB8etv1ZEn7GtH5_qmxF61oN4bRSPYgB5vjomsPtsZzieXd5AmE-FWGW6ncnj_GmucIXBF8yLl1P81gD_IE2RmSkRpGGS4F9xb_QlGK048lJCErSN4epeMXU-T_X_D9g/s1600/TMOT+snip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPkoB1c9LTdz0RB8etv1ZEn7GtH5_qmxF61oN4bRSPYgB5vjomsPtsZzieXd5AmE-FWGW6ncnj_GmucIXBF8yLl1P81gD_IE2RmSkRpGGS4F9xb_QlGK048lJCErSN4epeMXU-T_X_D9g/s1600/TMOT+snip.jpg" height="168" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.dystel.com/newsletter/childrens-and-young-adult-newsletter-10-october-2014/">The write-up for THE MEMORY OF THINGS in my agent's October newsletter</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To do that, I slide down more chutes. I climb more ladders. I find new edges to bounce back from.<br />
<br />
I'm ready and excited to bounce back.<br />
<br />
Within hours of my <a href="http://tinyurl.com/noaq52x">agent's newsletter</a> going out, we had five requests to read the manuscript. In fact, THE MEMORY OF THINGS had the honor of garnering, <i>within ten minutes</i>, the first request.<br />
<br />
I'll take this as a good sign.<br />
<br />
And, while we're waiting, I'll rake leaves. One foot up on the next rung.<br />
<br />
And, now, for your reading pleasure: some Beta Reader feedback <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn3</b></span> on <a href="http://www.dystel.com/newsletter/childrens-and-young-adult-newsletter-10-october-2014/">THE MEMORY OF THINGS</a>... (you may click on the photos to enlarge them.)<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQgfl-qLKPE614cEHzLBiynKJhkn6PpvsN6am0eQEb_IEf9ksZvABlEZI16VzUUpQwCmDHIN_86bzY7p3BOLpoKbqZJAlvkjEgIcuf_t564ZcZR8RNTc29RCPbPSAgumdhMGhdwlsQuj6/s1600/TMOT+Wendy+feedback+snip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQgfl-qLKPE614cEHzLBiynKJhkn6PpvsN6am0eQEb_IEf9ksZvABlEZI16VzUUpQwCmDHIN_86bzY7p3BOLpoKbqZJAlvkjEgIcuf_t564ZcZR8RNTc29RCPbPSAgumdhMGhdwlsQuj6/s1600/TMOT+Wendy+feedback+snip.jpg" height="131" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><i>High School Librarian . . . </i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd05-HmCmW6XcPmkcbGyr1hSRSP551c11VUMKemgyBSbwwzE9e7U6ulIteG0VuT4NDtItpYtmd0-4WCZsQ548Sjs8N5Vx3-KbfbZ1TPQZxVdHtZo9_pqISHtFFYx83ro10M0cK_iIOEto/s1600/TMOT+Jessie+Grembos+feedback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd05-HmCmW6XcPmkcbGyr1hSRSP551c11VUMKemgyBSbwwzE9e7U6ulIteG0VuT4NDtItpYtmd0-4WCZsQ548Sjs8N5Vx3-KbfbZ1TPQZxVdHtZo9_pqISHtFFYx83ro10M0cK_iIOEto/s1600/TMOT+Jessie+Grembos+feedback.jpg" height="99" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><i>Teen reader I enlisted through an English teacher in Indiana. . . </i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4OQW1YmhIIa53FMf7OFAINr1gWdusSZJWC6NLHHRHpcD7JBBrS0teiGCpLrME_lDY4COHgbywW4189KWXvEvr8wOEb0uZFbJoNxJx2gMDuEO7oyRy4Ks6HwK5ajLp_sFbFpmglvAnSSK/s1600/TMOT+Jane+Small+feedback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4OQW1YmhIIa53FMf7OFAINr1gWdusSZJWC6NLHHRHpcD7JBBrS0teiGCpLrME_lDY4COHgbywW4189KWXvEvr8wOEb0uZFbJoNxJx2gMDuEO7oyRy4Ks6HwK5ajLp_sFbFpmglvAnSSK/s1600/TMOT+Jane+Small+feedback.jpg" height="223" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><i>President and co-founder of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BooksAreMagic">Books are Magic</a>. . .<br /></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3CnXY5hsJca6vYqJ7ALorpEm3sV6rqCoM346xs62DpzFjWfsif-XkCAJ5T5LDB_YYaNoLg71JOFjLkkFS__T9nddNnNSqwgNUbbHbMr58byVorNF79ZmrBdAXdHIX2DQSTZatvK4B0HG/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3CnXY5hsJca6vYqJ7ALorpEm3sV6rqCoM346xs62DpzFjWfsif-XkCAJ5T5LDB_YYaNoLg71JOFjLkkFS__T9nddNnNSqwgNUbbHbMr58byVorNF79ZmrBdAXdHIX2DQSTZatvK4B0HG/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback+2.jpg" height="69" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH-W9Xh7qO3tmuAh0WhJy4EBpgY0geGB_tfSJ6wEDeGnoEQGibYuEucSRFwz-kiPgadF1I0Wri0kgJiEtxWF7PlqyghUZ8DuJPJzwTHYJeCk91FkynO5Ueh_MVkSjI9XLUz49QkX_ckI9/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH-W9Xh7qO3tmuAh0WhJy4EBpgY0geGB_tfSJ6wEDeGnoEQGibYuEucSRFwz-kiPgadF1I0Wri0kgJiEtxWF7PlqyghUZ8DuJPJzwTHYJeCk91FkynO5Ueh_MVkSjI9XLUz49QkX_ckI9/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback+3.jpg" height="43" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYjLopdhc9ddNXubDr00VTu3oMEssJaazDO3ALU-_U73n9Ubd1f1jM63HAbNgNGDPSfPJUNRuSH_AauBze4lpXcqjra8T0ck8xodHm3dDi-3J7V0MBLzUDHsiP-q_or_ov3lbt5TGiV4U/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYjLopdhc9ddNXubDr00VTu3oMEssJaazDO3ALU-_U73n9Ubd1f1jM63HAbNgNGDPSfPJUNRuSH_AauBze4lpXcqjra8T0ck8xodHm3dDi-3J7V0MBLzUDHsiP-q_or_ov3lbt5TGiV4U/s1600/TMOT+Cathy+feedback.jpg" height="76" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><i>Elementary Reading Teacher and avid reader. . .<br /></i></b></td></tr>
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- gae<br />
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p.s. I also have a piece of women's fiction called THE SWIMMING SEASON out on submission. Love me from this post and want to get more of me? <a href="http://www.dystel.com/staff-e-mail/jim-mccarthy-personal-essay/">Ask my agent </a>about that one. And about my other dark & edgy YA called JACK KEROUAC IS DEAD TO ME. Go on. Go on. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn4.</b></span><br />
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<b><u>Essential footnotes</u></b>:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn 1. I mean, perhaps there was a ceremony and I just wasn't privy to it, what do I know? Perhaps she made a voodoo doll of me at my laptop, placed it in the center of the manuscript, and burnt the whole thing down. Perhaps there was cake involved, which would have been lovely too.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn 2. Of course, the bruised and battered ego is buoyed, thank goodness, by manuscripts selling and books coming out in between, that garner awards and good reviews, and bring letters from teen -- and other -- readers who love them. We call this keeping us out of the ditch. Okay, fine. I just made that up and called it that. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn3. Yes, yes, we writers learn quickly that we are supposed to take our BETA readers feedback with a grain of salt... well, so far, my BETA readers have ultimately been correct. So, salt and all, I'm sticking by them. Especially my teen beta reader's feedback. ;) </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>fn 4. In fact, what are you waiting for? Here's his phone number. </b></span><span style="background-color: #94b494; color: #f0f5e9; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 15px; text-align: center;">212 627 9100 </span><b style="font-size: small;">You're welcome. </b>gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-43595196288856315192014-08-25T06:03:00.003-07:002014-08-25T08:05:07.344-07:00Longing, falling, rambling, striving. . . routine...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KBPgvveWiqI3MCtm-1dpJn0QpBP5vYesgesCQJIcPDRePa7-GTFLQ1V07b0DZH10IRrD6iEzUxzypUG12PiO6meSgUob4QYPcUqjdfKwGuqanN01DFnIgnL7DpruTKDI3xLMcohvZt0/s1600/gae+august+2014+moss+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KBPgvveWiqI3MCtm-1dpJn0QpBP5vYesgesCQJIcPDRePa7-GTFLQ1V07b0DZH10IRrD6iEzUxzypUG12PiO6meSgUob4QYPcUqjdfKwGuqanN01DFnIgnL7DpruTKDI3xLMcohvZt0/s1600/gae+august+2014+moss+chair.jpg" height="200" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a recent photo of me...</td></tr>
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<div>
I'm on a lot of social media these days for my writing "career," and I feel this constant need to update my photos.<br />
<br />
You might think it's vanity, but it's not exactly.<br />
<br />
Rather, it's this odd combination of social media ennui and the fear that someone will see me at a book signing who has just seen a stale photo of me online and say, MY GOD, I barely recognized you.<br />
<br />
This is me. Sort of. Almost. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is me, aging. I can picmonkey and photoshop it out all I want, but we know the truth: the computer, my cellphone camera, and me.<br />
<br />
I see it everywhere: in the skin around my eyes, on my legs, on the looser paunch around my middle. I feel it everywhere, in my constantly-corrected posture, in my shoulders and my hips. Sure I can photo shop it out for you, but I am stuck with the crueler truth.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
This blog post is a ramble. I haven't been here -- to this blog -- in a long time. I'm afraid to look to see how long, for fear it will remind me just how fast time flies.<br />
<br />
Of just how little I accomplish compared to what I mean to.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't need reminders.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoaUBohGpb9FBhQo2XvPplNung_4C2VE7XyBefIQO8RgLqf_aK7OffqeCnxSMOPYAas3aXANH9pxS4q0pZOMjMPHMzqX6p3kZYR9wf46ItADGDgg2_5AK23PMfMOx9afHezI_DjHPSGg/s1600/Sam+and+Ham+Geneseo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoaUBohGpb9FBhQo2XvPplNung_4C2VE7XyBefIQO8RgLqf_aK7OffqeCnxSMOPYAas3aXANH9pxS4q0pZOMjMPHMzqX6p3kZYR9wf46ItADGDgg2_5AK23PMfMOx9afHezI_DjHPSGg/s1600/Sam+and+Ham+Geneseo.jpg" height="320" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two good boys. I love them at this age, but it's all loss<br />
and leaving... so crazy hard to bear.</td></tr>
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<div>
Dropped my son off to college again two days ago. He's a lovely young man.<br />
<br />
<i>But, how did the boy go? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How did this round of goodbyes come so soon again? </i></div>
<div>
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<div>
The other one starts his junior year in less than two weeks. Another amazing boy who keeps leaving.</div>
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<div>
I don't want comfort or platitudes. I just need to purge.<br />
<br />
I know how to navigate it for now.<br />
<br />
I'll do the routine. Write. Swim. Do laundry.<br />
<br />
Some of it pleasure, some necessity, all of it staving things off.<br />
<br />
Things that cannot be staved off.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's nearly September. The month of longing, before the months of cold and hard-to-bear. In it daily, I promise I'm not this morbid and scared. But sitting here, quietly, for a moment, staring it down...<br />
<br />
I feel like I'm falling, and I'm so very afraid of the fall.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMHKMcq2jda7hk676EHSjTOqtCw73Mz0D0A_V3E2kO5koqyibV4sxLnZciFvltufWGTqllk8LGdrw2ruT_ehD9RzqLu0Y3r4SB1ZvP_uivCx1UuxvKXsHE8lgN6EdYI369VvceFbrFh0/s1600/gae+wetsuit+picmonkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMHKMcq2jda7hk676EHSjTOqtCw73Mz0D0A_V3E2kO5koqyibV4sxLnZciFvltufWGTqllk8LGdrw2ruT_ehD9RzqLu0Y3r4SB1ZvP_uivCx1UuxvKXsHE8lgN6EdYI369VvceFbrFh0/s1600/gae+wetsuit+picmonkey.jpg" height="320" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, this summer, about to swim... <br />
oh thank god for the swimming.</td></tr>
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<div>
Last month I turned fifty.</div>
<div>
<br />
50.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I swam two 10K's this summer, one actually at least a mile longer than a 10K. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I turned in my next manuscript to my agent, and am waiting to hear news from my editor.<br />
<br />
I did things. I made almost the most of it.<br />
<br />
And yet, the questions pound frantic in my chest, the answers almost never really enough:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>What next? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What do I want to still do?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How do I accept it all with grace?</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
How do I plow forward with bravado, when the days will grow shorter and darker and colder, and each step is just a step closer to leaving,<br />
wanting,<br />
falling,<br />
longing, and<br />
letting go.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- gae</div>
gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-23977247587733783962014-06-08T19:02:00.001-07:002014-06-08T19:02:40.320-07:00In loving memory of my extraordinary editor, Frances Foster<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #628697; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; margin: 13px 0px; padding: 0px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh90s4zzV0CHrz3EZN_4iUKN-ZxAWvBEMtYgFlyGfBQ3ro78ba4lSv_sMz5IbDTLruhpKvC3q5OlT_fxl5zcp-hyETfsLRIbZcOQog1exwpaPI7I1QZ0SjI4j7-9ALtr8TkEM9nmg3WXq2/s1600/gae+may+2014+with+lori+pendant+pmd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #3a6d7e; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh90s4zzV0CHrz3EZN_4iUKN-ZxAWvBEMtYgFlyGfBQ3ro78ba4lSv_sMz5IbDTLruhpKvC3q5OlT_fxl5zcp-hyETfsLRIbZcOQog1exwpaPI7I1QZ0SjI4j7-9ALtr8TkEM9nmg3WXq2/s1600/gae+may+2014+with+lori+pendant+pmd.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="174" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;">Last night, the world lost an extraordinary editor and human being, the loving and beautiful Frances Foster.</span><br /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;">I was only lucky enough to work with Frances on one book, THE PULL OF GRAVITY (though as Frances and I discussed, I am equally and incredibly lucky to be in the hands of my new editor, Elise Howard). But, Frances was the first person, after years of rejection, to take one of my manuscripts</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"> on and champion it, and believe in me. We had a few lunches, many phone calls, and, I like to think, an immediate and extraordinary connection. I will never forget getting out of the elevator in the flatiron building on my first visit to discuss my new book deal, to find her greeting me in the hall.</span><br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQF-jC6he6MEQk5dqV1UqZlMzywxw8k118oEglN1uNQ-sUD907mHVAFZXN_T739nefNRjTpuZsunvuKczrhstUw5XxSVaQN03D_nDbeHGdPJd3HQ_IPQD39I3SzJuqlgW1viJhDDuGJY6/s1600/Frances+snip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #3a6d7e; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQF-jC6he6MEQk5dqV1UqZlMzywxw8k118oEglN1uNQ-sUD907mHVAFZXN_T739nefNRjTpuZsunvuKczrhstUw5XxSVaQN03D_nDbeHGdPJd3HQ_IPQD39I3SzJuqlgW1viJhDDuGJY6/s1600/Frances+snip.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.222222328186035px;">Frances teased that I won the award for her authors who most clearly labeled<br />their manuscript versions submitted, this one "The Last Best Version."</td></tr>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br />To me, Frances was the epitome of warmth, wisdom, humility and grace. I can hear her voice on my answering machine, the way she said my name, and from that, whether she was calling with good news, or to comfort me about some silly snag with the book.</span><br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaZD1J8DK7-MB0VFwg1A-ZYotDamS6T7JQeNy_Ho-XxWUdNZRnvX8XEbInkt0WCo1aNp9GQ7A-GuX8ebinzBTgMAEElX9Jrnm5HDBNsv5uKDjwKHfkJwvpsVqAfPTDbnLGF6D3Y_HVnRR/s1600/Frances+snip+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #3a6d7e; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaZD1J8DK7-MB0VFwg1A-ZYotDamS6T7JQeNy_Ho-XxWUdNZRnvX8XEbInkt0WCo1aNp9GQ7A-GuX8ebinzBTgMAEElX9Jrnm5HDBNsv5uKDjwKHfkJwvpsVqAfPTDbnLGF6D3Y_HVnRR/s1600/Frances+snip+2.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.222222328186035px;">This note came after she asked if I might take a stab at writing jacket copy<br />for THE PULL OF GRAVITY. </td></tr>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;">I will always strive to write stories that might make Frances proud of me. I'm sad, in our many in-person moments to not have taken a single "selfie" with Frances - she always seemed too regal and important to bother with such a trifle. Lord, I miss having that trifle now.</span><br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QL4nXAT_7AJ3ZLFsR7etRvTYcMcNJuv1W4QkuKAAS_j-jpklxY8g6tQMr3IY02f-9V_I5bMlF_UXnIKGXO_y-g8rKIBljPLuFRmUZ63plP3fmtFYhpyKFipBOlfbcy90PugREPqW9Fct/s1600/Frances+tribute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #3a6d7e; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QL4nXAT_7AJ3ZLFsR7etRvTYcMcNJuv1W4QkuKAAS_j-jpklxY8g6tQMr3IY02f-9V_I5bMlF_UXnIKGXO_y-g8rKIBljPLuFRmUZ63plP3fmtFYhpyKFipBOlfbcy90PugREPqW9Fct/s1600/Frances+tribute.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.222222328186035px;">The tribute I wrote for Frances when she was honored by the Eric Carle Museum shortly before her stroke.</td></tr>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;">Frances has suffered greatly in the past 18 months. I hope she is at well-earned peace. A bunch of her authors lit candles for her Saturday night, all around the country, and she went peacefully, I think, guided surely by that light. </span><br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 20px;">Seems fitting since she guided us by such sure light.<br /><br />With love to, and kinship with, her friends, family, and extraordinary authors. In that regard, I still marvel at the company I keep.<br /><br />gae</span></div>
gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-41471567303460366602014-02-25T08:21:00.001-08:002014-02-25T08:21:32.356-08:00Book Stuff: Promotion, Reading and Reviews (and please don't be sick of me...)<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Book jacket author photo,</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO,</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">credit: </span><a href="http://www.rickkopstein.com/" style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;">Rick Kopstein</a></td></tr>
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<br />
This book business is a funny thing.<br />
<br />
When I thought of writing a book, only dreamed of getting it published, I never
thought about the business side of things.<br />
<br />
By trade, I'm a lawyer. While I was doing all of that writing and dreaming on
the side, it was purely creative. My outlet. When I was thinking business, it
was my current day to day work.<br />
<br />
Oh, the things I know now. . . if only I'd known them then. . .<br />
<br />
But this isn't about that, I'm not telling you those things here today (sorry),
but suffice it to say, some of it has been way harder and lonelier than you
would think, and some of it has been way more wonderful and inclusive than I
could ever imagine.<br />
<br />
But, I will tell you this: if you're not JK Rowling or Stephen King, there's a
LOT self-promotion required. It's just how it is, and it's a delicate art, one
many of us fail at on a daily basis.<br />
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<br />
For example, today is the one-month mark till the official publication release
date of <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781616202569">THE SUMMER
OF LETTING GO</a>, yet I feel many of my most loyal readers must be sick of
hearing about it already, that I've been talking about it for years (I have!).
It took me years (again!) to get the book deal after <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781250019332">THE PULL OF GRAVITY</a>,
and another two years (!) for the book to be coming out. And, because of my
involvement at last year's <a href="http://www.ncte.org/annual">NCTE</a> (I
have a lot of wonderful teacher/librarian followers of my fist book), we got
the ARCs<b>(fn 1)</b> out early and far and wide. So, hard not to be a
little sick of it, right?<b>(fn2)</b><br />
<br />
At any rate, as the book comes out, and I (try to) steel myself for the
reviews, I've been thinking a lot about myself as a reader, and trying to
remind myself of the many different ways which we -- I -- read a book. The
individuality and subjectivity of it all <b>(fn3)</b>, if you will.<br />
<br />
What I mean is this: There are books I love, that others don't feel the same
connection to. Conversely, there are books people love, absolutely rave about,
and I do not love them. Can't (or won't) even bring myself to finish them.<br />
<br />
As my reviews roll in, this is (or, ahem, should be) helpful to me, especially
when I see a reader voice that they haven't connected to my book.<b>(fn4)</b><br />
<br />
So, I was thinking today what it means to be a reader. How many different kinds
of readers there are, and, maybe moreso, how many different ways there are to
read (and love) a book.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">This was one of those MUST books for me</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">in the past two years... </span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">so much so that I sought the author out</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">personally via email and we are now friendly.</span></td></tr>
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For example, there are about five or six books I am either
actively reading or still in the middle of (or, let's face it, personally done
with (did not finish)), and it occurs to me that even though some of these
books are taking me forever, it's not because they're not (IMHO) worthy (that
goes for the "dnf"s as well!), but rather due to other circumstances
(everything from time constraints and distractions to actual physical placement
[I left it in the car and forgot about it for weeks, or, it's in the other
bathroom ;)). I will say, however, that there is, of course, the rare book that
none of those tangents or interferences will stop me from reading, the MUST
books, and, I suppose, as writers we strive to be that MUST book for at least a
few of our readers.<br />
<br />
But this morning, I was thinking about some of those "not MUST"
books, and how, in their own way, they really are MUSTs.<br />
<br />
For example, I have been reading, <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9780061124297">WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN</a> <b>(fn5)</b> for
well over a year now. There are a few reasons why it's been taking me so long.
One is easily "technical" or logistical (is that word? It seems to
be...): the print is dense and small. These days I often need reading glasses,
but I forget I need reading glasses or don't know where they are. So, when I
first started reading it, I often had to put it back down. Thus, I had no
traction in it. Yet, every time (EVERY time) I pick it up, I am completely
engrossed in it, and marvel that it's truly one of the most staggeringly
well-written books I've ever read. And when I put it down (most often because
there are other books I "need" to read or get to in the YA realm to
feel like I am keeping up with the business side of my work as a YA writer), I
can't wait to get back to it. All of this is reminding me that a really good
book, one that holds your attention, can still take one forever to read.<br />
<br />
There are the books where the writing is absolutely brilliant, but I don't
personally connect to the characters, or where the characters and the writing
are brilliant, but the story is too (insert whatever here: political,
supernatural, dystopian, gory, etc.) for what I love to read. Whatever the
case, the truth is, reading is such a subjective and personal thing.<br />
<br />
So, as I head into my release and the inevitable less-than-glowing or
"dnf" reviews, I remind myself of this. It's one reader. Good or bad,
it's only one person's view. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBAdyHR5H0mQ7WRT1HAZaz5-JEEW2Tj8LPdxSmrBGpFwIlD99vaU6sdSuL4WgSzhUOuELxZof0-e__KE6SyR-EO5Yb6Iq-JAgm2sD-kTmmnQEDcQz5eGGCamtB1zUJ4KcmZRy0Ch1t5c/s1600/Charlie+reads+Summer2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBAdyHR5H0mQ7WRT1HAZaz5-JEEW2Tj8LPdxSmrBGpFwIlD99vaU6sdSuL4WgSzhUOuELxZof0-e__KE6SyR-EO5Yb6Iq-JAgm2sD-kTmmnQEDcQz5eGGCamtB1zUJ4KcmZRy0Ch1t5c/s1600/Charlie+reads+Summer2.jpg" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
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Charlie prefers to eat a book slowly, rather than read it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br />
Would love you to share in the comments what kind of reader you are and your
MUST books.<br />
<br />
And, stay tuned over the next few days for the special launch feature for THE
SUMMER OF LETTING GO.<br />
<br />
xox gae<br />
<br />
<b style="font-size: 11pt;"><u>footnotes</u></b><span style="font-size: 11pt;">:</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
1. Advance Reader Copies a/k/a Galley copies</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
2. please don't be sick of it, and if you read the ARC, please do consider
buying the hard copy. It has been twice edited from the ARC and has beautiful
shiny perks that the softcover ARC didn't have...</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
3. FYI, for example, those all-important (or at least very important) critical
reviews from places like Kirkus, School Library Journal, and Publishers Weekly,
most of us don't realize that is just ONE</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
reader, often merely contracted out by the publication (ie, not even a staff
writer) who reads the book and voices his/her opinion. That ONE opinion then
carries a heck of a lot of weight, if not always with readers, then at least
with gatekeepers, to wit: booksellers and librarians.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
4. People often ask me how I deal with bad reviews, and my quick answer is
that, for me, the bad reviews validate the good ones. If all I ever received
were 5-star reviews, my mind would quickly discount them as people "just
being nice." But when I am forced to see that people will, in fact, be
readily (*coughs*) less than nice about their feelings, it allows me to accept
the positives better, and, to some extent, to remind myself not to
"own" either. Does that make sense? It is, however, always hard to
deal with really mean reviews. Those are another story altogether. Luckily, there's
a really fun series by author</span><a href="http://noblemania.blogspot.com/2014/01/childrens-authors-read-reviews-of-their.html" style="font-size: 11pt;">Marc
T. Nobleman</a><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> where we authors get a chance to read our mean reviews
loud and proudly (</span><a href="http://noblemania.blogspot.com/2014/01/childrens-authors-read-reviews-of-their.html" style="font-size: 11pt;">I'm
somewhere in episodes 4 -6</a><span style="font-size: 11pt;">) which helps us to blow off some steam. ;)</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
5. I hear it was made into not-such-a-great movie. Don't let this sway you! The writing is simply brilliant!</span></span>gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-5833998642146397552013-12-29T07:53:00.001-08:002013-12-29T11:11:11.685-08:00Year-End Round Up, plus Sorry I've Been MIA<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4si4UkxzhnpQ3pAoZgUYEU-L7_J2po9grSJY1P-bq4kAUjgrfFoH9QeNUnPgzF-FlIlDvwNdffD34HMdQAqDCp853dPCbzahzoaCUvX_TDgNTVQ2c0DEq5ctUXfKhjutdqsW73stMeIk/s1600/gae+kisses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4si4UkxzhnpQ3pAoZgUYEU-L7_J2po9grSJY1P-bq4kAUjgrfFoH9QeNUnPgzF-FlIlDvwNdffD34HMdQAqDCp853dPCbzahzoaCUvX_TDgNTVQ2c0DEq5ctUXfKhjutdqsW73stMeIk/s200/gae+kisses.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kissing goodbye another year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I know, I know, I've been MIA from this blog.<br />
<br />
The loudest complainer? My mother.<br />
<br />
Okay, fine. The only complainer. But still. Nice to know someone is reading.<br />
<br />
Something happened to me around September of this year: I ran out of words. Okay, fine. Not exactly ran out, but they weren't coming, here, there anywhere, and I wasn't about to force them.<br />
<br />
Sure, I've written some, and done writing-related stuff (first and second pass pages for THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO were in there, I think, and I'm muddling through a new manuscript, still). But the words felt stuck. They still do.<br />
<br />
I blame the confluence of a few things for taking my words away, both physically and emotionally:<br />
<br />
1. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6076911909032996694#editor/target=post;postID=3811944803970269970;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=4;src=postname" target="_blank">My oldest son leaving for college</a>;<br />
<br />
2. my younger son having escalating heart issues which have gratefully been resolved (thank you Dr. Levchuch, Dr. Hoch and St. Francis Heart Hospital);<br />
<br />
3. my editor rejecting not one but two manuscripts (I'm not gonna lie, sometimes the No's do get hard) and,<br />
<br />
4. first and foremost, this:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwAMdsQ800JmghA09wegUumrbMI7J_lbuj-SLGAC7R4zDbyFVrGWe7Kfsbv6Xf_GdvWYfjTvoDQXX2HSKxz_BEgqM6ovUY04gHRCvx_RO3_8RuNdbA_-tIeMSfJENf-XLnGQlEOMuce4/s1600/131022-194350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwAMdsQ800JmghA09wegUumrbMI7J_lbuj-SLGAC7R4zDbyFVrGWe7Kfsbv6Xf_GdvWYfjTvoDQXX2HSKxz_BEgqM6ovUY04gHRCvx_RO3_8RuNdbA_-tIeMSfJENf-XLnGQlEOMuce4/s320/131022-194350.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Charlie. He's a jackapoo. And a handful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We got that for my younger son at eight weeks. See #1 and #2 above.<br />
<br />
At any rate, I've felt totally bereft of both time and words, or at least good, descriptive, evocative words that are worth sharing, and I figured no one here would really miss me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWvSkswA6_bEU6s9oQ7Syc2iPh1RHQfZhVw2G32wx6SuJFx8TKG0r7U6mwx6npiBuw5b0ed2Y9aWZb0VpY8HOqOgcaJn41X3Reza5-jtHW-4tbnMLuMHpUtqROoA1HcyQeHy9MVXAxoI/s1600/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWvSkswA6_bEU6s9oQ7Syc2iPh1RHQfZhVw2G32wx6SuJFx8TKG0r7U6mwx6npiBuw5b0ed2Y9aWZb0VpY8HOqOgcaJn41X3Reza5-jtHW-4tbnMLuMHpUtqROoA1HcyQeHy9MVXAxoI/s200/family.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's my dad, sister and mom with me a few nights <br />
ago. My cheeks are pink from martini. Oh well.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Alas, my mother does, and to tell you the truth, that's enough for me.<br />
<br />
The words still don't feel "here," but I'm going to force them, and in doing so, this is going to end up feeling like one of those rambling Christmas chain letters (sorry, people who send them, you know who you are. . .)<br />
<br />
Anyway, with blame (and thanks) to my mom, here's a year-end round up since last I posted:<br />
<br />
My older son is doing well up at college. He's a talented musician and, most importantly to me, he's coming out of his shell -- this boy who wouldn't play his music for anyone in the comfort of his own home, let alone get up on stage, is actually playing open mic nights and singing in his quaint little college town. <br />
<br />
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb-vvTLAl7NitIEXpY4OoLpIKi37O7FLw-gqMVjhtSSUOsEq4xG9I6Aflo5WPsEyiqPxroIcjeToIlzPLoSV4U7LZaAZNXCt5hlSRoRu5faXWsl-CbOlI9vBulHVuPSU1jUCPufmRimU/s1600/sam+and+friends+December+2013+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb-vvTLAl7NitIEXpY4OoLpIKi37O7FLw-gqMVjhtSSUOsEq4xG9I6Aflo5WPsEyiqPxroIcjeToIlzPLoSV4U7LZaAZNXCt5hlSRoRu5faXWsl-CbOlI9vBulHVuPSU1jUCPufmRimU/s200/sam+and+friends+December+2013+-+Copy.jpg" width="103" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a favorite shot of Son One.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's the thing, though: I don't know how he already got to be a college kid. I know, I know, this is a refrain from mothers everywhere, and until it happens to you, there is simply no way to explain how it feels. How your home both feels remarkably empty, and yet, somehow, almost cruelly, the air and space fill in. We adjust, I guess. But there's a price. Tiny holes in our heart, that never exactly repair. The years we have our children at home are way too fleeting. But then, so are, just, all the years.<br />
<br />
Speaking of holes in one's heart, Son Two, as I mentioned, had some heart issues. To be specific, he had a super ventricular tachycardia (SVT) that required an ablation to fix it.<br />
<br />
He's amazingly all better now, but scariest few days of my life. Let those be the worst of them. From your lips to blah, blah, blah. . .<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wHJC5asroozXZB7EBM4PWUBxxRFrl_wvSgO-tcK9UHt47e0jmFN3nKgdQsgY9fU1_Y_EyOWn4r2OSQjLRhZJWvK2Nz81K0YUW6r7AyF92qjxlmOKWz7RVrS8p5hhcAP2k0AO6DD5n38/s1600/Holden+w+pup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wHJC5asroozXZB7EBM4PWUBxxRFrl_wvSgO-tcK9UHt47e0jmFN3nKgdQsgY9fU1_Y_EyOWn4r2OSQjLRhZJWvK2Nz81K0YUW6r7AyF92qjxlmOKWz7RVrS8p5hhcAP2k0AO6DD5n38/s320/Holden+w+pup.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Son Two with the dog, the week he came home with us.<br />
Does a picture speak a thousand words? I dunno.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The crazy thing is, my next book -- THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO -- that comes out in March, has a boy with a heart issue in it. Son Two did NOT have a known heart issue when I wrote it. Second time I've written a manuscript where something has come true soon after. Life imitating art or coincidence? Don't know, but I'm not giving my teen characters any more health issues. I'll leave those to someone else.<br />
<br />
As for the rest of us? My husband, David, sang a lot this year. He and his friend/guitarist David, performed their first paid gigs as David & David. These were some of the very best nights I had this year:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXhEZ0aKc6JfCUwBAml_nuakmHRy47O_OUA01FHijjBJl0Mr3DTHvxKdrU_QLq5O6pbxU9UX82oSq8GLCOO0cRaBvfKLxoKomAnJND8HwL09B4EkaVTMlQPcIZUBusVILcAMYZqf0ROE/s1600/david+singing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXhEZ0aKc6JfCUwBAml_nuakmHRy47O_OUA01FHijjBJl0Mr3DTHvxKdrU_QLq5O6pbxU9UX82oSq8GLCOO0cRaBvfKLxoKomAnJND8HwL09B4EkaVTMlQPcIZUBusVILcAMYZqf0ROE/s320/david+singing.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This right here is the number one thing that keeps me<br />
drawn to him. The guy can sing. Note to marrieds:<br />
pursue the things that bring you joy. Don't stop striving.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx4FUkm4TC8shVF1rwIvuzB4mYpyf_EYHOaTdgq6vkAyUVnEqDI3xraiUNtV4qV89huWwrnyPATYuRgComthw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
And me?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipC3QTuSvCv4cR2SSchhlrQoYY-qNQEj-Ded577mTfDRy80SjbXn0hEAEe8XMQgzxffLwEO65EVKLmjQTxec_HwVVgeZiX_3m0bcCJ-nvtHB-4ubsSYmMJlM_LYRbsFlCJvOmSS8MAtJo/s1600/gae+and+annmarie+october+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipC3QTuSvCv4cR2SSchhlrQoYY-qNQEj-Ded577mTfDRy80SjbXn0hEAEe8XMQgzxffLwEO65EVKLmjQTxec_HwVVgeZiX_3m0bcCJ-nvtHB-4ubsSYmMJlM_LYRbsFlCJvOmSS8MAtJo/s320/gae+and+annmarie+october+13.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
With my friend Annmarie, and the few stragglers of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/WestNeckPod" target="_blank">West Neck Pod</a> we've dubbed the <i>Polar Pod</i>, we swam in the open water through mid-November when the plummeting air and water temps and my son's medical stuff derailed us long enough to lose acclimation. With water temps down in the low thirties, fear we are totally done for the season.<br />
<br />
Last year, the coldest I swam was around 37 degrees, this year did 35 degrees, so at least there was that.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm back in the pool for the winter, anxiously waiting for spring.<br />
<br />
As for writing stuff, as mentioned, am mid-way through a YA manuscript. <i>Trudging</i> is the best word I can find for that.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6076911909032996694#editor/target=post;postID=6716713895139452054;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=3;src=postname" target="_blank">THE PULL OF GRAVITY movie</a> continues to be both <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6076911909032996694#editor/target=post;postID=6716713895139452054;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=3;src=postname" target="_blank">Pie-In-the Sky</a> and in motion. A few things have made the pie seem more reachable, the fork extended, if you will. A week ago, I had lunch in the city with the director. If anyone can make this happen, he will. Crossing my fingers for the New Year.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_btinCjEasmd-8u3dtnXljWBvA7oUnrKGoHN7PPut4VIhrl07lOEgYgM-6P6hreTtXrDTYdASpwOB8sNZlZBJxboiCbTjVXyMWrUnA8Tbl81yh6MV32DdS4LQ-RbXFWcRGbiLB-BZEc/s1600/TSOLG+shelf+spines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_btinCjEasmd-8u3dtnXljWBvA7oUnrKGoHN7PPut4VIhrl07lOEgYgM-6P6hreTtXrDTYdASpwOB8sNZlZBJxboiCbTjVXyMWrUnA8Tbl81yh6MV32DdS4LQ-RbXFWcRGbiLB-BZEc/s320/TSOLG+shelf+spines.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And, <a href="http://www.algonquinyoungreaders.com/book/the-summer-of-letting-go/" target="_blank">THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO</a> is out in advance copy and getting some really amazing early reader reviews.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7sXl9jyfbSHS2mgCVjXNxOFYiXtgEAkhEe66ee9Dh3UxEP1khOHGS-GwLSgKeBYAReA16Uh8AP3zrzw2bTApibSOErx0pDRwRF5UE4RA-Lhun8HvoH7TB0QtPHAKtO3LrvHwrY_ZK7k/s1600/Five+star+reviews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7sXl9jyfbSHS2mgCVjXNxOFYiXtgEAkhEe66ee9Dh3UxEP1khOHGS-GwLSgKeBYAReA16Uh8AP3zrzw2bTApibSOErx0pDRwRF5UE4RA-Lhun8HvoH7TB0QtPHAKtO3LrvHwrY_ZK7k/s400/Five+star+reviews.jpg" width="392" /></a></div>
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<br />
It comes out in March. If you're local to Long Island, I'll be doing a launch party and reading here, at <a href="http://www.bookrevue.com/" target="_blank">Book Revue</a> in Huntington on the evening of March 25th. It's hard to compete with the likes of Cameron Diaz and Snookie (both appearing at Book Revue soon), so, if you're around, I'd love for you to come.<br />
<br />
** forgot to add that the audio rights to SUMMER sold to <a href="http://www.highbridgeaudio.com/summeroflettinggo.html" target="_blank">Highbridge Audio</a>, and it will be released in that format in March, too. So excited!<br />
<br />
And that's it, Mom. There you have it. What I've been up to since I posted last.<br />
<br />
What's that you say? Tell you something you don't already know?<br />
<br />
Meh. Make up something new and interesting yourself. Feel free to come post it here. As between the two of us, you are the far better storyteller. My books would be lost without you.<br />
<br />
But truly, thanks for reading, and thanks for wanting to read more.<br />
<br />
To anyone else who is reading -- to all of you: have a very happy, peaceful, healthy New Year.<br />
<br />
I leave you with <a href="http://www.esquire.com/blogs/news/we-broke-the-internet?src=soc_fcbks" target="_blank">this link</a> which is, IMHO, this week's imperative reading.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.esquire.com/blogs/news/we-broke-the-internet?src=soc_fcbks">http://www.esquire.com/blogs/news/we-broke-the-internet?src=soc_fcbks</a><br />
<br />
The world is a'changing. Some good, some bad. Never stop using your voice.<br />
<br />
See you all in 2014.<br />
<br />
- gae<br />
<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-54331265787236373042013-11-11T07:41:00.002-08:002013-11-11T09:34:48.376-08:00To my father and all who have served, on Veterans Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjP3lqFAm_JsP8b0UDhfSCOgnzjGePL-lAzmXtNjswsWqklGH84wH9KRq4nNmfhLiRksQhXqMktIKAxSAk1gSmy5VQP3zc3M6-D1KBRCXdN72CfMLBnzHLBcZB5-M3c64g6-_2unPDwcw/s1600/War+is+not+healthy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjP3lqFAm_JsP8b0UDhfSCOgnzjGePL-lAzmXtNjswsWqklGH84wH9KRq4nNmfhLiRksQhXqMktIKAxSAk1gSmy5VQP3zc3M6-D1KBRCXdN72CfMLBnzHLBcZB5-M3c64g6-_2unPDwcw/s320/War+is+not+healthy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am not a religious person, but a spiritual one. . . and yet, I pray. . .<br />
I pray to the human spirit that one day, in the not too distant future,<br />
compassion will always win out over fists, bombs and guns.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is my father. . .<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YpH7_zg7ywZU3-rJQhGjC7pFz6AGI2h9KfVe7q1X-HqkaVrpOX6lW9mQyNc6GCiVX2r0XEIojli0EQr68SeelmqRR8rXqILzuiSPMINBdlmtco5L239y6Z8I0-lcnmG7xIctw8ueAJY/s1600/dad+home+from+vietnam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YpH7_zg7ywZU3-rJQhGjC7pFz6AGI2h9KfVe7q1X-HqkaVrpOX6lW9mQyNc6GCiVX2r0XEIojli0EQr68SeelmqRR8rXqILzuiSPMINBdlmtco5L239y6Z8I0-lcnmG7xIctw8ueAJY/s320/dad+home+from+vietnam.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">returning home from service in a MASH unit <br />
Vietnam, Chu Lai, 1966 - 967. . .<br />
how lucky we are that he came home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is the note that I wrote to him today, and the plaque for his bronze star that hangs on my son's wall here at my house:<br />
<br />
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This is an incredibly moving piece written by Laurie Halse Anderson today in the Huffington Post:<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/laurie-halse-anderson/post_6127_b_4254014.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false" target="_blank">VETERANS NEED YOUR HELP</a>. </div>
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Read it and share it, then do more. Click on the links. Share the information. And donate, even $5 or $10 -- heck, even $1 -- to help a veteran who has done so very much for you.<br />
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With deepest gratitude to all who have served and continue to serve.<br />
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- gae<br />
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<br />gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6076911909032996694.post-1370477805326142572013-10-31T05:50:00.000-07:002013-10-31T05:50:10.914-07:00Halloween Riff Redux<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: #c1cfc2; color: #628697; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 20.66666603088379px; margin: 13px 0px; padding: 0px;">
Still love this one from 2011... resharing. Happy (safe) Halloween. :) </h3>
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Halloween Riff (Sugar Rush)</h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.666666984558105px; text-align: center;">Me, last night, with the treat my sweet hubby delivered</td></tr>
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Reeling from a sugar high (after weeks of not eating any) and inspired by a copy of Edgar Allen Poe's <em><a href="http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html" style="color: #3a6d7e; text-decoration: none;">The Raven</a></em> (reprinted way below) that serendipitously arrived in my email box this morning, I penned my own version of some early Halloween terror.<br /><br />I invite you to join me in the comments and create a little Halloween homage of your own.<br /><br />Definitely treat over trick.<br /><br />- gae<br /><br /><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><strong><u>Deprav'in</u></strong></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Once upon a Tuesday, teeming, with the thought that I was dreaming,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">when consuming pounds of creamy, malted chocolate balls galore,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">should my sugar-coated teeth, my growing thighs felt underneath,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">this memory, now, so vague and brief, it barely lingers at my core. . .</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">“Tis only fair, you see,” I muttered, “to mix some sweet amidst the bore,”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">only this: a sugar fix, and nothing more.</span><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Ah, distinctly (I was sober), it was in the bleak October,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">sent my husband like a gopher, to the aisle in the store. . .</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Eagerly, no, not a Spartan, sent him for the whole damned carton</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Tried to cease, but played my part on, part on asking, yes, for more --</span><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Now, the fear of scale uncertain, holes in teeth will soon be hurtin’,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">So that now, to still the beating, of my heart, I stand repeating,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">"'Tis some minor weakness leaving, exiting through every pore,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Calories to soon be leaving, through my every pore.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Twas only candy, nothing more.”</span></div>
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<br /><strong><u>The Raven</u></strong></div>
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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,<br />Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,<br />While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,<br />As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.<br />`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -<br />Only this, and nothing more.'<br /><br />Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,<br />And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.<br />Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow<br />From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -<br />For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -<br />Nameless here for evermore.<br /><br />And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain<br />Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;<br />So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating<br />`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -<br />Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -<br />This it is, and nothing more,'<br /><br />Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,<br />`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;<br />But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,<br />And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,<br />That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -<br />Darkness there, and nothing more.<br /><br />Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,<br />Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;<br />But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,<br />And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'<br />This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'<br />Merely this and nothing more.<br /><br />Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,<br />Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.<br />`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;<br />Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -<br />Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -<br />'Tis the wind and nothing more!'<br /><br />Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,<br />In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.<br />Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;<br />But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -<br />Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -<br />Perched, and sat, and nothing more.<br /><br />Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,<br />By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,<br />`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.<br />Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -<br />Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'<br />Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,<br />Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;<br />For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being<br />Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -<br />Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,<br />With such name as `Nevermore.'<br /><br />But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,<br />That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.<br />Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -<br />Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -<br />On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'<br />Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,<br />`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,<br />Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster<br />Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -<br />Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore<br />Of "Never-nevermore."'<br /><br />But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,<br />Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;<br />Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking<br />Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -<br />What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore<br />Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'<br /><br />This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing<br />To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;<br />This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining<br />On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,<br />But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,<br /><i>She</i> shall press, ah, nevermore!<br /><br />Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer<br />Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.<br />`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee<br />Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!<br />Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'<br />Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -<br />Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,<br />Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -<br />On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -<br />Is there - <i>is</i> there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'<br />Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!<br />By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -<br />Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,<br />It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -<br />Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'<br />Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -<br />`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!<br />Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!<br />Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!<br />Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'<br />Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'<br /><br />And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting<br />On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br />And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,<br />And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;<br />And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<br />Shall be lifted - nevermore!</div>
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-Edgar Allen Poe</div>
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gae polisnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491813685110351809noreply@blogger.com0