Hello from Narnia, Wonderland, Oz, my office...

"What're ya gonna do wit dat website, ghellie?"

That was not me doing a terrible job of writing in Irish dialect. It was my transcription of Alice doing a terrible job of speaking with an Irish accent. 

"I didn't sound like Colin Farrell?" 

"No, babygirl, you sound like Sam Rockwell. Did you finally watch Seven Psychopaths?" 

"And now I want a Shih Tzu."

I sighed. Everybody wants a Shih Tzu after they see that movie. 

"I warn you. It will need a puppy cut in our climate. Also, they, um, they're...I don't know. It's like having a tiny, grouchy senior citizen follow you around all day."

"Yeah, but Niklas Lidstrom was twenty when he died." 

True. And his other collar is still hanging on the towel rack in the bathroom. Like so many things, it's something that feels like the life clock stopped and everything froze.

Funny.  I've been sheltering in place for over a year and looking back, I didn't accomplish everything on my to-do list. I had the time. I had the resources. As time wore on and the news got worse and thirty-nine friends, former classmates, and colleagues died and people seemed to get meaner and...and...  I felt logy all the time. It was bone-deep and unshakeable. When the body count passed the double-digit mark, I was no longer able to cry. Feeling sad felt like trying to emote through a sleeping bag. I reached a point where I was approximating emotion. 

I needed to do something. Anything. I started eating healthier again. The 5Ks I planned on running/walking in 2020 turned into the virtual races I've taken on this year. I've started writing and drawing again. The clearing out of stuff (Argh! The STUFF!) has recommenced. All of these were things that screeched to a halt when a friend in the U.K. told me in February '20 to prepare to hunker down for a long time. All I needed to do was kickstart myself. 

To be clear, we are still sheltering in place. It seems like every time we as a people take a step or two forward, someone, somewhere wants to take a step back. Yes, I am worried about this. Every infection presents an opportunity for mutation. If enough of those happen, it obliterates the progress the scientific community has made so far. So we're sitting tight for now. 

And I have this website.

What am I going to do with it? 

Housekeeping for a start. There are landing pages to be built, half completed projects, and  I need to prepare for some projects I've put off for a while.  I have my work cut out for me. 

In the meantime, I hope everyone is taking care of themselves. If you need help, please, please, please reach out. The past year has taken a toll on everyone. I promise you're not alone. 

Below are some internet happy places if you just need to breathe in the good, breathe out the bad:

Miranda Hart on Youtube
​
Canterbury Cathedral
Morning Prayer  with Dean Robert & Many Cute Animals
Canon Emma on Julian of Norwich/What we can learn from her wrt lockdown.
​
The Honest Guys

​Until next time, be well and be kind. 
​

A quick note: Everyone mentioned in this post knows I have written it. They read it before I hit the button and want to help anyone else who may be turning over the same issues right now.      

     What does the church have to say about abortion?  It wasn't any easier to answer this question when the person asking was the same age as her daughter is now and I was her age. If anything, it's harder to say where the church stands. 

     Oh, gosh. The details. She asked the specific priest because I'd written about him and she did the math. Then she asked about me, which led to me asking the prerequisite questions. Did she ask about me by my legal name or my pen name? What did she say about how she knew me? Does all of this matter? Yes, it does. I told him to go ahead and give her my email address. Her note arrived roughly twenty minutes after J. told her how to reach me. 

    She's doing well. She loves being a mom. She loves her work. She loves her life. 

     Yesterday, her daughter asked her, seemingly out of the blue, what she thought about abortion. She was asking for a friend. My gut clenches whenever a kid adds that  qualifier. I know sometimes they really are asking for a friend. I've spent nights on the only nonsectarian youth crisis line in Nashville answering the kinds of questions young people are afraid to ask their peers, parents, and other trusted adults. After a while you take a chance that someone is taking the piss and just answer the question. The worst that can happen if you get a kick in the seat and the best is when you can put someone's mind at ease because now they know. 

     If she couldn't tell her what she thought, what did the church think? A text and an email to their minister netted her no answer, so she decided to contact the next parish over, to ask a priest I'd occasionally written about. He told me he'd given her the stock answer, that she'd have to search her own conscience. It didn't feel adequate. 

     Probably because it's not. 

     He knows that and I know that and he knows I know and the person who reached out to both of us more than likely knows we know. We also both know I thought I had all the answers back in 1989. I was almost finished with my undergraduate degree and getting ready for a gap year and then graduate school. That was also when one thing led to another that culminated into a rather reckless weekend and a broken condom led to me being pregnant.  

     One of my favorite expressions is, "Man proposes and God says, 'That's cute!'"  That's pretty much what happened that Fall. I always thought I'd do what any proud feminist pro-choice person in my situation would do and just take care of it and go on my merry way. It wasn't that easy. This was a brand new life. My rubric for acceptable graduate schools changed from places with a good theatre/creative writing program with interesting anthropology classes to good for writers/good for babies. I looked for schools with excellent early education programs so Rowan or Willow (aka Sproglet) would have a running start at being well-cared for and educated.

     Even as I argued for every woman's right to make choices for her own body, I felt like I was choosing for two. This was so big, this finding out I wasn't the only one listening to lectures about Victor Turner's ritual systems and the elegant mechanics of Italian set design. Those who knew felt differently. Some of it came from shared politics while others worried about my future. I could not end Sproglet's life. It made as little sense to me as capital punishment or needless lab tests on animals. Life, it turned out, was life. 

     Twenty years ago, I discerned that the now-Mom who contacted me really was asking for a friend. At the time, I told her I was was Pro-Life for me, but I wasn't sure I could make the same call on behalf of someone else. While that sort of response might give me the impression I was off the hook, it really doesn't help the person asking for guidance. 

     I brought this up to J.  To be fair, J. had no idea until after the fact. I failed Sproglet. As much as I wanted Sproglet to be a part of my life, I couldn't carry him/her to term. Everyone who knew seemed relieved except me. This is probably the most I have ever written or talked about it. J. was there to offer advice when I grieved, but at the time, I found no guidance from the church. 

     So I talked to this sweet Mom who told me she was sure her daughter really was asking for a friend and she knew who. AND, she needed to hear what I and what J. had to say. We told her we really didn't have answers. The question is not without nuances. One thing J. and I agree on is we do need to make it easier for people to ask the hard questions. 

     I feel more than a little frustrated that we as a denomination, a communion, and a congregation shrink away from real life questions that could off the comfort of biblical answers. We can sing of the loss of the children Herod killed and we can't discuss the lives affected by an unexpected pregnancy. I was in my twenties, educated and moving forward with my life. What if I'd been younger, poorer, a person of color, and not yet finished with my secondary education? Would I have made the same choices? Would I have felt comfortable contemplating a change like this? 

     As a part of the Anglican Communion, I am glad we have a feast day for the innocents. What I wish we did less of is saying, "Amen" and "Thank you" and more talking, listening, and contemplation of how we can help the innocents who walk among us right now, some of whom may be carrying innocents of their own. 

​Namaste, y'all!
Jas Faulkner ​

      A local friend posted she woke up before everyone and logged in to the internet expecting to find greetings from far-flung friends and family. Instead, she found our city all over the news. Someone exploded a car bomb in downtown Nashville at approximately 6:32 am CST.  At the time, I was still trying to figure out what happened. One news outlet stated the vehicle was parked near the AT&T Tower (AKA the Batman Building), while another equally trustworthy agency said the RV was next to the Metro Courthouse. All of this was confusing, because those particular landmarks are at opposite ends of the district. Then someone mentioned the arts area, which consists of Downtown Presbyterian, The Frist, Anne Brown's place, and few other galleries, all of which are a few blocks away. The only thing the stories agreed on was it was deliberate. 

     The only thing any of us could do was stay out of the way and wait. 

     Even though we exchanged presents and I finished making the Christmas dinner I'd prepped the day before, everything felt tamped down as we went back to the news to see if the police, TBI, and FBI released any more details.  It was safe to assume that the majority of us in this big city and environs were safe. Still, a free-floating fear tinged the day. We kept seeing reports of three injuries and hoped that was the extent of the human cost. Still too high, but had this occurred, say, an hour or two before a Titans or Predators game, it could have been so much worse. 

     By nightfall and throughout the 26th, I found myself unable to shake off feelings of dread. This is not something new. Having worked in inpatient and outpatient clinical psych, I'd been trained to expect the worst and think out what I would do if those grimmest of "ifs" became a reality. That backing track of fear has run through my life since then. What if someone came into my office with bad intentions when I ran a legal outreach NFP? What if someone took exception to the pastor at my mother's UMC church? What if I visited a synagogue and someone decided to plow through the sign asking visitors to call ahead and identify themselves? What if someone did the unthinkable at a clinical facility or the city's arena while I was covering a game?  Silly as it may sound, all of these things ran through my mind whenever I was in a crowded place.

     I was not there Friday morning. To everyone who has called and texted, even while admitting they figured I was okay, thank you. I am. I have been offering prayers for the first responders and those who lived in the lofts above the street where the explosion took place. My thoughts are with those who expected to get up and celebrate the day only to hear the eerie sound of a recording warning everyone within earshot to evacuate. 

     Oh, my God, my God. Were are so close to emerging from under an uncontrolled pandemic spread, only to find people want us to live in fear. One theory going around is the person responsible is/was afraid of 5G and wanted to target AT&T, which is a popular tele-carrier around here. As silly as it sounds, I hope they are right. I am anxious for my country, for my state and city to begin to heal. We can't do that well if we're afraid of each other. 

     By late Friday and well into Saturday, I have to admit not feeling anything but shocked and still fearful of what this might bring. A friend who is in recovery from COVID described having days when he couldn't find the bottom of his lungs. It's probably not nearly the same, but I had that same feeling. I hope it subsides soon.

God bless us all, everyone, and God help us get back to that place of peace. 
​Jas Faulkner ​

​      Starting January 2021, I will regularly review what I'm reading, watching, and listening to. Sometimes these will be new things, sometimes, I'll devote space to works I think deserve another look or listen. Last year, I took some tentative steps toward regular reviewing and then ended up walking away from the endeavor, muttering to myself.  What had turned into a happy thing where I got to hopefully point some people to things they might like turned into a source of frustration. 

     So I am going to offer some guidelines that might make it easier for everyone involved. If you already do these things, great! If this is not on your to-do list, at least think about adding these items. If you think I'm too demanding, I am sure there are plenty of websites with writers who will be happy to accommodate you. 

1.) Reviews will be posted here, at Goodreads, and on Librarything. 
      I have posted on platforms that offer easy ways to post at Amazon, B&N, and other sites.  Even when those devices were in place, some authors used a multi-step approval process where I would be asked to post on more sites. Sometimes the links in the emails did not work and I couldn't get back to the right page to post and...

     Okay, you're going to see this phrase more than once: If you create unnecessary steps for me, I'm gonna walk away from your book/movie/music/whatever it is. 

2.) Please, please, please in the name of everything that is good, have an e-tear sheet. 
     A couple of years ago, someone put out a call for reviewers on Twitter for a comic book they were publicizing. I have experience in this area and volunteered. This person was very pleasant to work with and fairly prompt when I requested an e-copy for review. Here is why I never reviewed the book. They sent an email expressing excitement about working with the movie director whose name was being used to brand the series. They mentioned the revival of the genre the book represented. Aaand that was it. Here are the pieces of information their email did not contain:

• The Writer
• The Artists (Pencilers? Colorists? Backgrounds? Lettering? Cover Art? No, no, no, no, and no. I guess it was put together by elves.) 
• The Actual Title Upon Release (It changed.) 
• When It Was Going To Be Released
• The MSRP (The US MSRP would be great, and please know I have readers in Canada, AUS, NZ, and the UK. Prices for consumers in those countries might be nice as well.)
• Available Formats (Those darned elves, they're so low-tech!)  
• Where it's available. (Strange elves on street-corners distributing media is no basis for a system of publication.)
• ISBN
• Number of Pages
• Cover Art -or-
• Preapproved Image of Author(s) or Illustration(s) From The Book

      
      When I sent this list to the PR person, they sent me one, sometimes two of the pieces of information I asked for. After the third request for details about the book, I gave up. A week later the, "WAAAAAIT! Where did you GOOOOOOOOOOO?" emails started. ::sigh::

One other thing, if I have to search the internet for cover art or scan the letter enclosed with the book if it's a paper copy, it might not get done in time or to your satisfaction. I have had to pull reviews because "Our deal with the artist fell through," "We changed our mind about images," "We don't own the rights to the cover." Yes, someone actually asked me to remove the images for those reasons. 

So I'll say it again: If you create unnecessary steps for me, I'm gonna walk away from your book/movie/music/whatever it is. 

3.) Keep It Simple
     I get it. You've poured you heart and soul into your work. You feel protective of it. Vet me by searching for previous reviews if you feel the need. It won't hurt my feelings. I am happy to answer queries within reason. If you come at me with a series of byzantine measures where you email me part of the thing and then I give you my impressions and then you might email me the rest and then I send you my review and then... No. Send me the information with the information I need so my readers can find what you're selling and I'll put up a review and send you a note with URLs if you want to see what I think.

     Once again, with feeling: If you create unnecessary steps for me, I'm gonna walk away from your book/movie/music/whatever it is. 

     With all that written, I wish everyone a happy, productive, creative,  and prosperous year to come.

​      For those of you playing at home who are not Episcopalian or Roman Catholic or Methodist, today is the first day of the Christian year. It marks the end of Ordinary Time and the start of Advent. 
 
     Waitwaitwait. Isn't Advent that thing where you get a calendar that has little doors and you open one every day and get a chocolate or a little bottle of wine or an ornament or mascara?

     Dale: Can you imagine a Cheech and Chong Advent calendar?
     Me: Really, Dale?

     Let's try this again.

     You know how you'll start buying things for the holidays and you'll see someone in the candle aisle muttering and fussing because they can't find pink, purple, and white tapers? You might be thinking they are going for a different color scheme for Thanksgiving or Christmas. If you're really clueless, you might assume they're trying to fill up their menorah. Nope. Those people waited too long to buy their Advent candles and will either have to pay quite a bit more for a set from the cathedral store, settle for a different set of colors or votives, or suck it up and get them from Amazon. 

     Advent is, as I have already written, the start of the new year on the Christian liturgical calendar. It is the first in a series of four Sundays when we panic because we haven't made our Christmas cards and... okay give me a minute to breathe.  Advent is when we celebrate the birth of the Christ Child and reflect on how to bring the example of His life into our day to day living. 

     A typical Advent wreath has greenery and four or five candles, depending on which tradition you follow. (Mom is Methodist, so I added one in the middle. I'll have to ask my priest because I am not sure why we use four. Maybe one got lost when we set fire to Guy Fawkes.) 

​Edit: I just got a call from a fellow former member of the Student Interfaith Council at one of my alma maters. She said, "Episcopalians use five candles. Even I know that, you yutz!" She was the president of our sister religious house, the Jewish Student Union.

     What I described is what happens when you don't live in a state experiencing uncontrolled spread during a pandemic. Here is what our Advent setup looked like earlier tonight:

​     I am not sure if these candles were purchased last year as a backup for Advent in case the dog managed to chew one up or if we just happened to have a number of candles that were close-ish to traditional Advent colors.  I annointed them during a break from work. (Sunday is one of our busiest days, so yes, the ox was in the ditch.) We just plain forgot to cut some holly until it was already dark and decided not to risk disturbing our local raccoons, possums, and Rizzo, the unwed pregnant squirrel who likes to eat Annie's Bunnies on our front porch. We decided to use a potted plant that earned its place inside by surviving the first freeze. It was that or the bundle of dinosaur kale in the crisper. All of it is sitting on a rolling craft table.  It's not Evensong at Canterbury Cathedral, but we enjoyed it. Here is tonight's Evensong at Canterbury Cathedral if you insist on making a comparison:

     Was ours the most primitive of Advents? No. I contacted Alice and Jeffrey in Louisville to wish them a Happy New Year and Joyful Advent. The boys were in the kitchen arguing about the best carrier tortilla for tacos and the merits of Baby Yoda's name reveal while Jeffrey was hiding somewhere in the house discussing fantasy league football. Alice said her candles never arrived and their church was out of them. 

     "What about emergency candles?" I asked.

    "We're saving those for emergencies," she said. "We scrounged around and found four perfectly good candles we'll be using this season. Given that one of the boys hates wine and we have been using Goldfish crackers for at-home Eucharist, I think we'll survive an untraditional Advent setting."

      When she told me about it, she immediately added she would not send a picture. I tried. I really did, but she's not budging. As I type this, her family is gathering around Batman, Spider-Man, the number three, and a Scottie wearing a Santa hat.  

     Happy New Year! ​

  ...and that would be about so many things!

     Stuff in the works can be great, but if it doesn't go live? If it isn't read? The road to backlogs is paved with good intentions. I am probably cursing myself to a fate of broken promises, but here is what I am working on aside from my job, a new novel that is not a very bad allegory for America as an abused infant, and my horribly messy studio:

• A new section on knitting with patterns for people who are really bad at knitting and can't seem to quit it. There is a fund-raising element for good causes that is completely optional. 

• Two more pieces for Plague Life

• I watched "Revenge of the Sith." This is the last Star Wars Movie with Ewan McGregor as Obi Wan Kenobi and Natalie Portman in one of my favorite roles of hers. I chased it with "Christopher Robin" and Pooh made me cry. Now you get to suffer, too.

    
     And that's it for now. I hope everyone in this hemisphere is enjoying the Fall weather and those who have a place in my heart in the Antipodes are seeing warmth and sunshine. Yes, your possums are cuter, but I am betting good money and a chess pie they're venomous or lay eggs in your abdominal cavity or  something else y'all's bestiary of DeSade's Muppets do after they lull us into a false sense of security with their cuteness.

Namaste,
Jas