'Tis the First Day of Spring. Goddess help us all.

It's the spring equinox in the northern hemisphere. How ya doin'?

To state the obvious—these are tumultuous times. Every day I’m reminded of this exchange between Frodo Baggins and Gandalf.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

I don’t think you have to like The Lord of the Rings (which I do, in fact, like very much) to appreciate the sentiment.

Aside from the travesties happening in the world around us, my own life has recently gone through an unpleasant, jarring change. This may fall into the life-gives-you-lemons-make-lemonade category, but the change, as much as I didn’t want it to happen, will give me more time for writing and art (and newsletters) once my brain and heart gets used to the new reality.

I saw one artist on social media say they weren’t going to make any more art because the world was on fire and there were more important things to do. If I’m in a burning building and I stop to paint a picture, my art and I will be consumed by the flames. So running for water makes more sense.

But we need art. Okay, maybe not my art specifically. My art and stories aren’t going to save the world, but they’ll save me. And maybe they’ll help someone somewhere a little. What is a world without stories and art, leaps of wild imagination, lighthearted nonsense, and beautiful poems? I’m not saying anything original, of course.

Toni Morrison wrote, “This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. That is how civilizations heal. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge — even wisdom. Like art.”

What on earth would she say about today?

Over the last couple of years, my time for creative endeavors has been severely limited. But that has changed! Despair shall not take over the room.

Now for what I’ve been reading.

The Secret Lives of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw. Yeah, I know I’m big on fantasy and whimsical, but I like realistic fiction too. If you like short stories and sharp characters, this is for you! (By sharp I mean distinct characters with agency.)

“If Grandma dreams about fish, there is a baby baking inside someone in her life. Everybody talks about how she’s only been wrong once…”

Jollof Rice and Other Revolutions by Omolola Ijeoma Ogunyemi. I love interlocking stories. These stories are expertly woven together, and while nearly all of them are realistic, the last one if set in the future, and…oh boy. I had to put the book down for a minute because it was horrifying and so possible.

“We enter into the hospital’s jail.”

all about love: new visions by bell hooks. I’m actually in the middle of reading this and talking about it with a friend (a book club of two). I’d read a couple of hooks’ years ago and wanted to read something that might be good for this moment we find ourselves in. As we drown in vengeance and vitriol, maybe we should reach for the lifeline of love. Cheesy? Oh well! Still true.

“All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm's way.”

And when not reading, here are two YouTube channels I’ve started following.

Books ‘n’ Cats for literary analysis (cat included!) She focuses a lot on the gothic. Definitely my cup of tea.

Rebecca Watson (skepchick) for science, nerdery, and critical thinking. What can I say? I like how she explains things.

FunkyFrogBait because her pointed commentary on online nonsense is funny. She covers a lot of topics that I don’t need to know about it, but I do need to laugh, so FunkyFrogBait it is.

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Over on Patreon, I’m serializing another novel. I shared this novel with some friends many years ago, but I’ve been working on it since then, making changes. This newsletter is free and my blog is free, but if you want to support the making of all the things, go on over and become a magical patron or spell caster and get art in the mail! In the meantime, here is chapter one of Sunlight & Mercie.

Mercie wore red lipstick because red was the color for lying. She rehearsed her lies. Already she regretted them, but she’d promised an evening of dishonesty, and she never broke her promises.

If everything went according to plan, her mother would be happy and forgive for the sin of existing. Her mother often commented that Mercie had a lot of sins for someone just twenty-two, but then again, her mother thought one sin was as good as a hundred.

Mercie’s roommate, in her mismatched clothes and her hair piled high and held up with chewed on pencils, poked her head around the door. “They just pulled up. You ready?”

Mercie dropped the lipstick in her purse. “Why be ready? Ruins the surprise.”

Linnie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, don’t get your mom mad right away. You got a whole night to get through.”

“Suddenly now you’re worried I’ll be disowned?”

“Damn, I wish she’d and get it over with. No. I’m worried you’ll look like an idiot. You’re not a good liar.”

Mercie walked by Linnie and into the narrow hallway. “No worries. You won’t be there to see.”

The knock rattled the door.

“I can’t believe you agreed,” Linnie said. “After everything.”

Mercie was giving the living one more look over before answering the door. “Hey, you said you’d throw the beer bottles away!”

Her roommate grinned. “At least I put the DVDs out of sight.”

“Gee, thanks.” Mercie tugged at the waistline of her sweater. “Do I look all right?”

“You look like a night out, not like a nice time with the family. Isn’t that sweater a bit tight for family?”

“That’s rich.” Mercie put her hand on the doorknob, and when she flung open the door, the late afternoon sunlight poured in. “Mom!” she said cheerfully. “I’m so glad to see you!” The red was working beautifully.

Her mother tilted her head to one side. “A cold front’s moving in, dear. Don’t forget your jacket. Why, hello, Linnette. How are you? Your bra strap’s showing dear.”

“I’m just grand, Mrs. Winters. Thank you for asking.” Linnie left the strap where it was.

“You’re still working with Mercie at The Sunlight. Is that right?”

Mercie glanced down at her feet. Both girls knew how much Mercie’s mother felt about her working at a grocery store.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Linnie. “That’s right.”

“You girls really should consider moving. Do you know that I saw gypsies—gypsies!—a few blocks away? What is this neighborhood coming to? It used to be so nice.”

Linnie and Mercie exchanged glances. Their neighborhood had never been nice. “Gypsies, Mrs. Winters?” asked Linnie. “Really?”

“That’s right. This ghastly wagon pulled by a horse—a horse!—in Lake Belle!—trotting down the street as pretty as you please as if we’d all be happy to see them. I bet those people don’t even have license for the thing.”

“Do you need a license for a horse?” Linnie asked.

Mercie looked up and down the street. She saw a pack of boys loping down the street and heard their laughter. Gypsies would be a welcome sight. “I hope we get to see some gypsies.”

Mrs. Winters shook her head. “Of course you do. Now then, are you ready to go?”

“Completely prepared,” Mercie said.

Linnie snorted. “You don’t call them gypsies anyway. They’re called Roma.”

Mrs. Winter’s smile thinned. “You’ve always been so clever, Linette.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“It’s a pity you haven’t made something of yourself yet.”

“Well.” Picking up her jacket from the chair by the door, Mercie gave her friend a peck on the cheek. “See you later.”

Mrs. Winters stepped back and tripped over a cat. The girls caught her arms to keep her from falling backwards off the steps. “Good heavens.” She straightened her scarf. The cat, waiflike and black, furled and unfurled its tail. “You got a cat?” The cat stared off into the distance, but remained calmly on the step with Mrs. Winters. If anyone was going to give up space, it wasn’t going to be the cat.

“More the cat got us.” Linnie shivered from the cold coming in. “We don’t know who he belongs to. He just showed up a couple weeks ago, and since he came bearing gifts, well, who were we not to feed him?” Near the bottom step, on a broken, random paving stone, sat a bowl for cat food and a bowl for water. The food bowl was empty. A leaf floated in what was left of the water.

“Gifts?” Mrs. Winters stood stiffly as the cat now brushed against her legs, leaving black hairs to cling to her properly pressed gray slacks.

“Come on, Mom. Dad’s waiting for us in the car, and the temperature’s dropping already.” The wind hurried and miserable clouds lowered above them. Only the day before Mercie had been wearing shorts and a light windbreaker. But Florida fall rolled in an uncharacteristically chill day. Mercie loved the abrupt change, happy to take her sweaters from the back of the closet.

But Linnie wasn’t about to let Mrs. Winter’s question about gifts go. “Fleas. He came bearing fleas and what I think was the last grasshopper of the year.”

Mrs. Winters almost fell off the top step again, but steadied herself and gave Linnie a stern look. “Yes, well, lovely to see you dear. I do hope to see you again when I drop Mercie back off this evening.”

“You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Winters,” Linnie said. “You won’t—and watch out for those Roma—they’re likely to steal you away and sell you off. I hear that’s what they do—I bet you’d make them a pretty penny!” With that she waved happily before closing the door.

“She’s always been a silly girl.”

“Very silly,” Mercie said, walking to the car. “And my very best friend.”

“Ah, well, we all know how good you are at choosing friends.”

Here are the envelopes going out to current Patrons for the month of March!

This newsletter is long enough, but I must acknowledge the leaving of David Lynch in January. I have a photo of him in my office. (No, not a photo I took, but one I actually bought.) I wrote more over on Patreon. (It’s a post for everyone). Is it too much to say Twin Peaks changed my life? Maybe. But it wouldn’t be wrong.

That’s enough for now! May the new season bring you good things. Thanks for reading.