Ta-da! Welcome to my Brand New Website.

In fact, if you have read this far, then you have likely already arrived and are seeing it in its brand-new glory, with its lovely fonts and clean pages. And photos. Ever so many photos. Of me. (More on that shortly).

Welcome. I’m delighted you’re here, and delighted and grateful that this website has been created, a process that has taken Some Time–largely because of me.

But this post is not about that. Neither is it about me. Instead, I want (again) to welcome you here. Welcome! When you’ve finished reading this post, please take time to explore. Click on all the site’s click-able links, read the various blurbs. Sign up for my newsletter (details about the newsletter in a later post). Check out the countdown (at the bottom of the home page) to my next book’s release. Peruse old blog posts you may have missed. And just generally enjoy yourself.

I think you’ll agree that it’s a beautiful website. I can freely say that because, like you, I am (mostly) on the receiving end here. I didn’t make this website. Not really. Not (hardly) at all.

Shanna

Instead, first credit for this creation goes to Shanna Stevenson, my daughter-in-law. Without her, I never would have thought of getting a website. I would have continued happily–as I had for years–with my blog: a place to craft and then post short pieces of writing; to talk about my book(s), among other things; to write in a public space on the off-chance that someone would want to read it.

I never bothered much about the blog’s appearance because, truth be told, design is not my thing. No, the blog–for me–was always about the writing.

But Shanna understood it differently. A great fan of my work, she convinced me that it was worthy of a beautiful platform. “You’ve already got the content,” she said, by which she meant the writing. What’s more, she pointed out, you have a book to sell. On-line presence is pre-eminent, she said. Your work needs an honest-to-goodness website.

And so the idea for this site began.

Joy

Yes, I had the words, but a website of words might actually just be the blog I already had. I would be needing pictures.

Enter Joy, a beloved friend from CrossFit, partner for a workout or two (or six) in a competition in fall of 2017. The kind of gym friend who always has me lingering for at least an extra twenty (or forty) minutes after class because we just have so much to talk about.

And also a stellar photographer.

But not just a stellar photographer. Joy is the kind of photographer who can almost (very nearly) make you forget you are getting your picture taken–and this was something I needed, because having my picture taken (in various places and poses) for the better part of two hours made me feel weird.

I know, I know. Millennials do photo shoots with their friends All The Time. What’s the big deal? And I shouldn’t be so self-conscious.

But I am no millennial, and I am self-conscious–maybe not about many things, but very definitely about having my picture taken. Again. And again.

Somehow, Joy knew how to get me to pose without feeling like I was posing. She got me to laugh or to reflect, to shift my posture to make it look natural. To think about other things so that the expressions on my face were genuine. In truth, she made the entire process a pleasure.

It was two hours of her time for the photos, and then who knows how many hours for the editing, but the results are pretty stellar. Which is a reason why there are so many of them on this website.

Toban

Still, the website would not exist At All if it were not for Toban of Penner Web Design. His was expertise I desperately needed. Left to my own understanding, my website would be a barely customized template with occasional personal photos plugged in here and there. Its information would be haphazard in presentation. It wouldn’t guide the viewer or feature anything in particular.

But from the outset, Toban knew the questions to ask about my work and my hopes for it. And he is experienced such that he knew what to include and highlight. In fact, our conversations at the beginning were as much about marketing as they were about websites.

And yet it wasn’t long at all before the website was taking shape. I really trusted him more than myself about most decisions, but he was nonetheless readily responsive to my questions. When something needed an adjustment, he often fixed it before I’d had a chance to check for his answer in my inbox. And from my collection of favorite photos, Toban distributed them across the website such that they are a good reflection of who I actually am. This helps so much (So Much) when it comes to that whole self-conscious thing I mentioned earlier.

And Me

Really, it’s the self-conscious thing–the Me thing–that, if anything, has been the problem. I am the one who delayed this project that was born (way back) in April.

April. That’s more than six months ago.

But when Toban was needing text (and he needed text, as you’ll see from your perusal of the website), I was dragging my feet. I like to write, yes. The production of text, per se, is not difficult for me. But writing “About Me,” or crafting blurbs about the book I wrote or the book I’m writing–these things trip me up. Knowing these are “due” can make me suddenly busy in all sorts of other directions.

And then there’s this other bit–the many (many) pictures of me. I’m self-conscious about those, too. Should there be so many? What difference does it make where I live or what I look like when it comes to the words on the page (or screen)? Writing is writing, and you like it if you like it. You could conceivably find me annoying or even hate my guts and still appreciate Healing Maddie Brees.

But here is where your marketing, website designing experts can help you; this is what the best photographers know; and this is what the millennials–even your old-soul, profoundly wise daughter-in-law–might open your eyes to: we live in a visual age. And maybe, to some extent, the whole world always has. What’s the adage? A picture is worth a thousand words, or something like that.

Here’s my hope: that this website makes you feel welcome. That, stopping here, you know I am grateful you’ve come. That regardless of who or where you are, there are ideas here that interest and hold you, ideas that might start a conversation–on these pages, or with a friend, or even in your own head.

So when you see my face on (almost) every page, hear, too, what I’m saying: Hi. Welcome. Thanks so much for being here.

The post New Website! A Tale of Shanna, Joy and Toban (and Me) appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

I have fooled with appearances here before. I’ve changed the name twice. I’ve tried different pictures at the header (that’s what that top part there is called) and changed the colors. I’ve changed my profile picture at least once. I’ve also added and then dropped things in the sidebar. And today I spent a long time over at Shabby Blogs, a blog where you can get free (free) decorations of All Sorts for your blog and add them to yours at No Cost (did I mention it was free?). I had admired for some time the impact of such decorations at Leslie’s blog before, but had never made time (that’s crucial) to investigate. I had a great deal of fun investigating today.

Sadly, despite the time I spent and the enormous variety over there at Shabby Blogs, none of them would answer. No matter what I tried fitting in around the margins of the words on this page, those images and decorations very nearly overwhelmed me. I just couldn’t handle them. No.

And so we’re back to blank space over here. Just white. Just blank. Just empty. Words and the occasional photograph or two. That’s all I think you’ll be getting from me. That’s all.

But the truth is that I think I like it this way. I’m not good with clutter (Lynne would surely confirm that for you, should you ask), and sometimes lots of visual “stuff” simply registers in my mind as so much noise: it interferes with my concentration and crowds my brain and makes it much more difficult (so much more) to Think.

Sometimes all I want is quiet and simple lines and maybe the low light of winter.

I haven’t written much here lately. Not enough blankness in my life, I think. I have ever so much to see and do on any given day. But the page is what I’m hungry for, I think: blank paper, but for the lines; an empty computer screen, but for the tool bar. And maybe, too, the cleanness of this blog page.

If that’s all I need for inspiration, then I’ll take it.

The post Improvements appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

School is out, which means days and days of wide open space for me, time like I never know it during the school year. Time for family, time for friends, time for (more) exercise, and reading, and lounging at the pool. Time for cooking and for projects and– Oh Yes– writing.

And I have been writing. Lots and Lots. I’ve been at work, too, on curriculum (lots and lots), outlining in new and clear ways what I’ve taught so that my successor in the 10th grade humanities class has an easier time of it, prepping for the new senior English classes I’ll be teaching. I hope to finish those tasks shortly. And then I’ll be writing Even More.

But not here. No, this is not the space for me these days. I have another, Much Larger project that has been waiting for my time for a Long Time, and I think this is the summer for it.

I do expect to write some here, but I can’t be doing it consistently while also giving my time to this other task. So silence– or General Silence– might be the name of game here for awhile.

As ever, I am grateful, O Reader, for your stopping in here, your checking on what I’m up to. I did just write something on That Other Blog just now, and of course you are more than welcome to look at that.

And now it’s back to the curriculum with me. I’ll finish this today and then (such hope!) I’m on to Other Things!

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The post Another One appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

And read the Other Stuff while you’re there, too. It’s all good. All of it.

The post put algae in bowl. put a littel of grass. appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

I didn’t have much planned, which was good, and neither did Bill, which was also good, because our children had plans, and these kept us busy. Two playdates, one sleepover, one birthday party (for two people) and a middle school dance. Oh, and youth group. Yep. Busy.

But last night and again tonight– after (yesterday) housework and yardwork and schoolwork– I have found myself surfing the web, just looking and looking and looking at blogs.

I saw an article recently that said blogging is the “low-brow” use of the internet.

I’m not going to say anything about that.

I will say that there are a Whole Heck of a Lot of Mothering Blogs out there. Lots of blogs from mothers who’ve lost babies (yes, I was weeping), lots of blogs from mothers with young ones, photos of adorable children, smart and acerbic comments about mothering said children, blogs about homeschooling, blogs about un-schooling, blogs about sending children off to school and what to pack in said children’s lunch boxes. I am Not Kidding. And I am known to (occasionally) contribute to one of these blogs and am very pleased to do so.

But I am noticing something: my posts about my children, whether here or elsewhere, are decidedly becoming Fewer and Farther Between.

(Actually, all of my posts are becoming Fewer and Farther Between, and that might be worth posting about. Or not.)

The thing is, it’s relatively easy to write things about young children. They are funny. They are quirky. And every parent can identify with the exhaustion, the exhilaration, the hilarity found in the despair of losing a night’s sleep or a favorite teddy bear or an adorable sock on the walking trail.

But writing about older children gets tricky. One must be careful what one tells. Not everything is appropriate for the world-wide-web (or, for that matter, one’s small but appreciated readership). Some things, when written and posted At Large, would be a Betrayal.

You, O Reader, have been twelve before. And also nearly ten. I think you know what I mean.

For all this, I will say that my Dear Friend Lynne doesn’t seem to have this problem. But her photograph-connection-between-the-camera-and-blog thing is working just fine. I think that helps.

Yeah, I have to get that fixed.

So yes, for now, at least, you have fewer words about Will and Everett and, even, Emma Grace. Maybe it’s the fault of their ages. Maybe it’s that pesky photograph thing. Or maybe my mind is growing old.

Oh, hang it all. I’ll try to do better this week. Honest, I will.

The post Internet Musings, Part the First appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

As I said, I’m sort of embarrassed about changing the name. The truth is that I remain insecure about this whole blog thing. I’ve been keeping a blog for over three years now, and I suppose I’ve established my own way of blogging. I mean, I have my own style, I do my own thing, I’m not wedded to some “ideal” of what a web-log should be. So why the insecurity? Yet there it is.

Case in point: I’d like to highlight a few other posts on this very subject that have appeared here over the years– a few of my more transparent moments in which I reveal the angst that stands behind whatever in the world it is I am doing here. I’d like to show those to you, but I can’t. And the reason is that, even though I’ve begun labeling my posts by subject matter, I Don’t Know How to Make That Work for me. So when I ask My Own Blog to Search This Blog for one label or another, I get No Information Whatsoever.

What does this demonstrate? I’ll tell you. It demonstrates my utter incompetence in the world of blogging. This electronic world of cyber-communication really wigs me out. I don’t know how to make this stuff work. I don’t make this stuff work. I am amazed daily, quite frankly, that what I write here makes it to my friends down the road, not to mention my friends abroad. How does it happen? Search Me.

And in this electronic world, there is a je ne sais quoi, an artistry, a, shall we say, Cool that I just don’t possess. I have none. When I look about me at what other blogs have to offer, I find, for example, that I am sorely lacking in the right sense of humor. I don’t have the attitude, the scathing cleverness that some have. Nor do I have the artistry. You see this page? Plain as the day is long. Know why? I don’t know how to scan a photo behind the title at the top of the page. I am overwhelmed by the motifs and details that other options present to me. The visual art that aptly and even breathtakingly adorns other blogs would, on my page, Suck the Life right out of my writing. So, honestly, how much art do I have?

The first title of this blog was “Birches,” named, of course, for Robert Frost’s poem of the same title. It’s a wonderful poem, and its message was the sort of thing I was looking for. But the meaning behind this treeless blog seemed, at best, misleading. I jettisoned it about (was it?) a year and a half ago.

And then I settled on “As In A Mirror,” which was wonderfully significant (still is) and meaningful and lifted straight from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. But again, when I looked about me at the Clever and Witty and, well, appropriately less lofty blogs about me, I felt… Stupid.

So last Friday came around and we had our family night, which included a trip to Red Robin for dinner and our first-ever screening of the Disney pic (do I start being embarrassed now?) Meet the Robinsons. A clever film, and fun. Artwork and design that looked familiar long before we realized it was done by William Joyce, and a really heart-rending aspect that had all three of my children in tears at one point or another. And when the film ended, we enjoyed the music of Rob Thomas, who sang a song called “Little Wonders,” and these were some of the words:

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists and turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours
These small hours
Still remain

I listened to that song, and then I listened to it again. And later I looked up the lyrics.

Not perfect, these lyrics. I mean the “twists and turns of fate” is a little cliche, right? But I do agree with what he’s saying about the small hours, the little moments in which everything matters, whether or not one is paying attention.

I learned to attend to those small hours a Long Time Ago. I don’t always attend, and when I do, I don’t always do it well. But I guess I kind of believe that it’s attention to those hours that make life worthwhile, and if I find a place to record those moments, a kind of sieve to hold what’s precious as time falls (and falls) away from me, well then maybe I’ve done pretty well.

Seemed appropriate for my blog, anyway.

So here you are, dear Beth: the explanation for this slight shift, this cosmetic alteration that, let’s be frank, makes a difference to no one but me.

And I am a little embarrassed about it. But there it is.

The post An Explanation appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

Yep. I’d had it. And so, I would imagine, had you, O Reader, if you come to this place with any regularity at all. If you’ve come poking your electronic nose in this vicinity over the last few months, you’ve certainly noticed the dwindling frequency of the posts. The “nothing new,” “nothing new,” “nothing new” that I’ve had to offer.

It wasn’t just a lack of time– though, make no mistake, I certainly suffered from a lack of time– it was a lack of ideas. When I considered (in small snatches of no time) writing here, I had Nothing To Write. Nothing To Say. Everything I thought of writing seemed stale or would require too much effort, and either way, wasn’t worth sacrificing what small amounts of free time I had.

The result? Silence.I resolved over the past weekend to post just a few photos of our beach vacation, send the entire thing off to Lulu for publishing (for my own keepsake) and erase As In A Mirror from the face of the internet. It might have remained here for a month or two (or more?) as I waited for the publisher to do its work, and then, with a final farewell to you, O Reader, it was going to Disappear.

Why? I’ll tell you.

1. Vulnerability. While I write as obliquely as I can and even (imagine!) leave off of these pages the details and troubles of my personal life, I was feeling a bit too exposed. I mean, think about it. Some of you read what I write here and in doing so know lots of things about me– and I Have No Idea Who You Are. For the most part, I’m used to it. I realized I’ve asked for it (this is the world-wide web, after all). And most of the time, I don’t think about it. But once in a while– in a very little while– I think I’d just as soon take my blog and go home and keep these thinkings to myself.

2. Exposure. Some say that doing this is dangerous. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

3. Writing. I like writing here, I do. I like crafting these little bits and pieces and truly making them as good as I can before sending them out into the ether. But this is not, in the end, the kind of writing I want to do. I want to write fiction– literature, even– and I want to write it well. The practice I’m getting by writing in this blog is good for that in many ways, but it is simply not an effort toward producing Good Literature. As time is an issue (even during these lazy, hazy days of summer), shouldn’t my time spent writing be focused on the Real Deal? My husband and father-in-law would say yes….

There were other reasons, too, for wanting to delete As In A Mirror. Small but real ones. And yet. And yet. Here I am.

Well, if you get the chance, you can thank my dear tworivers, who pulled this blog from the brink of destruction in a cell-phone call last Sunday afternoon. Or you can thank my father, who (without knowing of its pending doom) just on Monday told me again how much he loves my blog (to which I answered, somewhat apologetically, that “there is nothing new there!” to which he responded without hesitation “but I was reading old posts!”). Or you can thank statcounter, the only means by which I can spy on You and which provides me with (nebulous) information (at best) (though I can sometimes figure you out) as to how many people are looking at this blog and where (in the world!) they are.

Just the other day, someone in Sweden read this blog. In Sweden! I’m sure it was an accident.

So I’m not going to delete it. Maybe my school-induced brain-freeze is thawing, but I have a list of pending posts (once again) on a little slip of paper in my dining room.

And — blog or no– my novel is stirring in my brain once again. I can’t tell you how many times I thought it had abandoned me and wondered, more than once (after these two years of curriculum development and thesis writing) if it was gone forever. I am delighted and agitated (the need to write always agitates me) to report that it is there– very much alive and (if I say so myself) stronger than ever in its design. And I’m not going to talk about it. Nope.

Yes, I’m not going to delete the blog, though the posts might be infrequent. Check in if you want to. It will be here. And so, from time to time, will I.

Besides, I haven’t posted any pictures (yet) of our (last week) beach vacation. Coming soon….

The post Old Blog appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

But now, O Reader, we have only (not including today, as the hardest part is already over, the part when I haul my eyelids open and force myself to Get Up Out Of The Bed) seven days left of school. And tomorrow is Field Day, so that doesn’t really count. And the next two days are Review For Exam days. And I give my exams on Monday. So the rest is grading and grading and then– We’re Done.

I have things to say about that. And I have things to say about my students and their Shakespeare play that we held over last weekend (They Were Amazing!). And of course I have things to say about my children. And I book I just finished reading. And my graduation. And the newborn leaves (that aren’t quite so new anymore).

But not now. We’re in the home stretch here, folks. Almost done. Almost.

The post No Thing appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.

Or maybe I just made a mistake.

Anyway, I corrected my misspelling.

And my name is next to his on the list. Did I mention that already? Have I told you? I looked at it again today. Yes, I did. And it’s still there.

(Can you tell I’m supposed to be grading papers?)

The post Correction appeared first on Rebecca Brewster Stevenson.