Vivaldi, Crows, and A Greek Philosopher
What I learned this week about the power of paying attention
In this issue:
Welcome Note from Shelley
Art from Kirstie Collins Brote
August Pappus
Journal Prompt
Publishing News
Welcome Note from Shelley
Dear Loyal Reader,
Welcome to the first edition of Pink Dandelions, my new author newsletter. I’m so glad you’re here.
Every month I’ll share some thoughts on living, writing, reading, and creating the beautiful lives we imagine. I’ll also keep you updated on my publishing news. Once in a while I’ll share a flash fiction.
Did you look at the table of contents listed above and wonder, What’s a pappus?
Remember when you were a kid and you’d pick a mature, fluffy, white dandelion and make a wish before blowing the seeds into the wind? Each seed burst from the round puff and floated into the air, carried along on a current of wind by a parachute of tiny hairs. That parachute is called a pappus.
Pink Dandelions is a collection of ideas, meditations, and explorations I hope will inspire you as you nurture your own creative, beautiful, meaningful life. I’m calling these ideas pappuses, and each month you’ll find something new, and hopefully inspiring, in these letters from my heart to yours.
August’s pappus is on the power of attention, why choosing our influences wisely can make a big difference in whether or not we attain the life we imagine.
This month’s art is by Kirstie Collins Brote, an artist and published novelist who lives and creates in Las Vegas. You can find some of her work on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/kcbrote.
Cheers!
Shelley
August Pappus
Vivaldi, Crows, and a Greek Philosopher: What I learned this week about the power of paying attention
"You become what you give your attention to." -Epictetus
It’s the day my second novel comes out. I’m sitting in bed with a big Luke’s Diner mug, my Chromebook, and my phone. Vivaldi’s Concerto in A Minor trips lightly from my phone’s speaker. Outside, the sun rises over San Diego, and the crows fly past my window on their way toward the western beaches . . . or possibly the nearby Target parking lot.
I put down my coffee, flex my fingers, and gear myself up to create a big happy-dance social media post to thank my awesome readers for their love and support.
A pesky thought drifts into my head. Is this the day I’ll finally feel like I’ve made it?
Something feels off. Yes, I feel the satisfaction of accomplishing a goal. Yes, I feel gratitude. Yes, I’m sort of enjoying the moment. It just doesn’t feel as big as I thought it would. It doesn’t even feel quite real.
I take a sip of coffee, stare at the screen, and hesitate. Slight panic ensues. What’s wrong with me?
I message my friend Sharon, a writer and artist who lives in New Mexico. Years ago, Sharon and I knew each other peripherally. We had friends in common and lived in nearby neighborhoods. We participated in a local parent group. One day, she asked me to go with her and her kids to Salem, Massachusetts, and that was the beginning of an enduring friendship despite moves and life changes and ending up in different states.
Over the years, we’ve bonded. Over books. Over writing. Over women’s issues. Over Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gilmore Girls, and Sex and the City. We’ve carried on a running conversation via Facebook messenger for several years now, and I consider her point of view a touchstone.
I know she’ll have something brilliant to say.
As a teen, Sharon wanted to go to art school, but her parents steered her toward the state university to study something practical like teaching. She graduated with a degree in literature and became a wife and mother to four talented, artistic children instead of pursuing a career. Now, like me, she’s trying to start a creative career in her fifties. We have lots and LOTS to say about this subject.
Today, I tell her I’m feeling weird about my book launch and ask her if she felt this way about her recent art gallery show.
“Yeah,” she texts. “When I put my last collection together, I was de-lu-lu about what would happen. I imagined I’d have this major success and media attention and sales. Even after spending a ton on my own promo, the turnout was only so-so. I imagined a sell-out show. I only made a few sales. It’s crushing to realize I’m just another failed artist.”
I tap out a response. “Well, some people would say even getting an art show is a success, not a failure.”
“Yeah, no. I wanted to be that one-in-a-million overnight success. I wanted people to love my paintings and tell me how talented I am. I wanted people from high school and college to find out so they’d see I really was better than them. Kidding. Not kidding.” Laugh-crying emoji.
“Haha!” I respond. “I get it. It’s so hard to stand out. There’s so much competition. Sometimes I wonder why I’m even bothering to publish my books. I ask myself if the world really needs yet another mystery novel by an as-yet unknown writer. Probably not, to be honest. So what’s the point, really?”
Heart emoji. “Right? That’s how I feel about my art.”
I warm to the subject. “Why do we feel this need to be ‘successful?’ Why not simply create for the joy of it?”
“Yeah, the other day I was lounging by the pool with my dog, my bong, and my sketchbook, and I realized, hey, I’ve already done it. I have a gorgeous home. My husband makes good money. I love where we live. I don’t have to work for anyone else. I can do what I want. Basically I already have the life I wanted my art to give me.”
I feel that thrill you get when truth hits you in the face like clear, ice-cold water. “Yeeeeessss!!”
“I’ve decided to stop torturing myself. I’m gonna do art when I feel like it. Forget the rest. Just admit I’m a loser and be okay with that.”
Sharon’s onto something! Not the loser part, of course, but that thing about what we wanted our talent to bring to our lives. If we have everything except fame and awards and status among our peers, aren’t we okay? Better than okay? What do those things amount to in the end? How many famous people go absolutely off the rails?
Maybe we are better off as we are.
I tell her she’s no way a loser. I tell her thank you. I tell her I need to get some social media posts posted and sign off.
I spend the day hawking my book like a medieval fishwife and feeling slightly more calm.
The thing is, we all have dreams. We all have goals. We all envision creating a meaningful and beautiful life. But sometimes we don’t quite feel as if we’re actually living it.
Satisfaction feels just out of reach.
We look around and see all that we have, and we know we are supposed to be grateful, but pesky feelings of discontent and irritation and jealousy create a swirl inside where we would like to experience calm and contentment, even bliss.
We begin to wonder, Who am I? Will I ever feel satisfied? What is truly important to me? How can I feel I am who I want to be? How can I create the life I imagine? Or if we’ve been blocked or have failed or suffered setbacks that seem out of our control, we might even think, When’s it gonna be my turn?
I’m not a self-help guru. I’m just a writer whose own dreams and goals have propelled me toward a variety of endeavors and avenues. Sometimes I dashed headlong into something new, hoping it would work out. Other times I held back, cynically watchful, skeptical, or fearful of failure. I kept beaucoup de journals about all my desires and goals and big dreams for my future. And feelings. So. Many. Feelings.
My dreams of being a writer directed me both forward and sideways. Sometimes I stalled. I spent too many years “practicing” when I should have been getting the work out there. I dillied. I dallied. I hoped. I wrote. And wrote some more. Did I have a vision? Yes. I saw myself with a book in my hand with my name on it. I had this bright and glittery idea that I could one day be a published author, even one who made a living writing books.
It took a lot longer than I imagined, but after almost forty years, in 2023, I achieved the first part of that goal. I became a published novelist when my first women’s fiction/mystery novel came out from a small press.
I’m still waiting to get to the making a living part. Is that what’s bothering me? Sales?
Here’s the thing though. I now realize that being a published author, though amazing, is actually not my ultimate goal but rather a piece of the bigger, more amorphous goal which is this: To live my definition of “the good life.”
What I really want is a life of creativity, friendship, good conversations, good food, art and culture, writing, books, a pretty home, an appreciation of the natural world, and the ability to appreciate and enjoy this full, rich, colorful existence for as many years as I have left.
I realize I don’t need mega book sales to live that life. I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need to be famous. I don’t even need to be published (though I do enjoy that part.)
I can invite and nurture creativity in my life. I can strengthen my friendships. I can pay attention to the food I’m eating, try new recipes, and enjoy meals that others prepare for me. I can learn how to be a better conversationalist. I can spend more time in nature, in art museums, and in libraries and bookstores.
For some of you, building a business, or even a business empire, might be your true and holy ambition. Or maybe you dream of living in a beautiful home surrounded by lovely things. Maybe you want to create delicious recipes and share them with others. Perhaps you yearn to live a more spiritual life. Or save the planet. Or help those in need. Or live simply and close to nature.
Whatever the life you want to create, find ways to bring your attention to it every day. Invite your “good life” in. Read books and articles. Watch biopics. Seek out fellow travelers. Practice your craft. Surround yourself with inspirational images and quotes. Make sure to curate your social media, if you use it, to reflect your vision.
Let go of the unremarkable and not-inspirational. Make a little daily habit of inhaling your vision down into your lungs on a mantra and holding it there for a moment or two.
As that lovely Greek philosopher, Epictetus, warned, “You become what you give your attention to. If you yourself don't choose what thoughts and images you expose yourself to, someone else will.”
Don’t let your attention drift and settle willy-nilly. Be deliberate. Pare down. Let go of what doesn’t serve you. Gather the thoughts and images, the books and articles, the art and culture, the people and voices and ideas that will nurture you and allow you to grow into the person you want to be.
Allow your attention to transform you. I’m going to give it a try.
Journal Prompt
You wake up one morning and realize your day will be exactly as you want it. What does this ideal day look like? What do you see around you? Who do you spend time with? What kind of person are you? What do you do with your day? How do you feel?
If you want to share a snippet or a line, reply in the comments.
Publishing News
NIGHT MOVES HAS LAUNCHED!
In case you haven’t heard, my second Olivia Lively Mystery came out on August 14. This one is a murder mystery that started out as a prequel novella and morphed into a full-length book. Early readers are already saying it’s better than book one.
This is a very satisfying thing to hear!
From one reviewer:
“Absolutely loved the second installment of Liv Lively! It's an easy read that flows with vast imagery and astounding story telling by Burbank. It has its unique style and I couldn't put this one down. Netflix needs to turn this into a series!”
Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and your local bookstore by request. Click a link to read the description and purchase your copy today. Don’t forget to leave a review if you read and enjoy the book. It helps so much!
Amazon Ebook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D485Q4R1/
Amazon Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Night-Moves-Olivia-Lively-Mystery/dp/164599550X/
Thank you, my dear Loyal Reader. I appreciate your support!
Other publications this month:
You can read my guest post, The Second Book Shudder, on Maine Crime Writers. https://mainecrimewriters.com/2024/08/14/the-second-book-shudder/
My character Olivia Lively is interviewed on Dru’s Book Musing. https://drusbookmusing.com/olivia-lively-2024/
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