In the Margin Between Abundance and Time

Living in Place

I’m caught in the margin between an abundance of topics I want to share and too much excitement to sit down and write.

As much as I wanted to tell you about Living in Place while I was on vacation last week, I deliberately didn’t bring my computer—or any work—with me. While I’ve spent other vacations without advancing any of my writing projects, this was the first time I consciously planned to leave work behind. It was a true vacation

A true vacation.

I spent the week in in a small beach town in Mexico. We had no car, so we walked from our hilltop house town to the beach, ate freshly prepared meals in small restaurants and at home (thanks to a son-in-law who’s an excellent cook), watched the sun set into the Pacific seven times, and read four books.

We watched the sun set into the Pacific seven times.

It was also a good time to be away from home. The snow had melted enough to bring winter frolics to an end, and garden tasks aren’t yet tying us to the land. This has me thinking about the margin between one season and another. Instead of the post I’ve been thinking of writing, I offer you a few photos.

In the margin between one season and another: ebbing snow; shivering crocus; returning robins.

I’m also thinking about second chances. I’m so lucky that a second edition of my award-winning novel, Into the Wilderness in coming out on April 10^th – in just two weeks!!

This political love story is also about second chances for the 64-year-old characters, who find love again. The story is set in 1964, when Vermont began tilting from red to blue. Learn more about a book touted as “a fiercely intelligent love story” here, and preorder what’s been hailed as “a perfectly satisfying read” here for paperback or here for ebook.

A love story about second chances.

In addition to relaunching Into the Wilderness, I’m basking in the reader reviews for Reviving Artemis. I thank all those who have taken the time to post a few sentences after reading the book. If you’ve read the book but haven’t yet left a review, I hope you will. If you haven’t read the book, perhaps reading these reviews will inspire you to do so.

Readers who hunt for meaning in life love this book.

There’s even more good news, which I’ll save for future posts. For now, I’ll leave you with this:

The artist Gerhard Richter said, “Art is the highest form of hope.” Storytelling is one of our most accessible art forms.

Thanks for reading, sharing, and subscribing,

Deborah.