Learning to let go.

August 8, 2014 / Gin Getz / 8 Comments

A frost on the deck damp from yesterday’s rain

And a thin film of ice on the undisturbed pan of water

Where he used to bathe

Emptiness on the cliff

Where he used to stand

Watching the river flow

In this morning of uncertainty

I seek to find solace in the poems of Wendell Berry

Who uses words in ways I may never learn how

But always seek to emulate

Who preaches in calm certainty

Yet what I feel but he does not

For he a man and I a mother

And his practicality is replaced by my passion

Who might tell us it is time to let feral ones fly free

And be at peace knowing

We can never own that which is meant to be wild

Yet I find his distance disturbing

While his words more than I may ever obtain

As I dive into my life heart first

And leave behind a pool of broken waters

Shattered mirrors and forgotten dreams
~

Learning to let go.

This is not what I was planning on sharing with you today, but I think you should hear this.

Yeah, it’s about the goose.

When he was little he slept in the cat carrier under the kitchen table. Then the dog crate outside the front door. After two and a half months, you’d think he’d go in by himself at night. He never did. He is still a wild animal, he reminds me every day as he rests in shade under the pickup with the dog. Night before last he fought it. I had to herd him in. We sat at the table by the door at dinner and could hear him shuffling about within the box. Maybe it was the moon, we wondered. We knew he didn’t want to be there. But I didn’t want him out with the coyotes and foxes and tourist’s dogs swarming like little snapping turtles.

And then last night he flew off in the moonlight.

It started at dusk when he usually comes to the front door and we lead him to his box. Instead, he remained off the porch, fussing, chattering, and would not come close to me. I stepped closer to him and away he flew, off his cliff and down over the Rio Grande in the pale grey evening light. Fine, I thought as I returned to the cabin, lit candles and the wood cook stove and started dinner for my boys. A few minutes later, guilt took over. A sense of responsibility confused me. I raised him since he was but a day or so old. Can I just turn my back as he flies off and say, “Have at it! Good luck!” Perhaps I should, but I cannot. I returned to his cliff and called out. I looked down river and did not see him. I turned, rejected, back to the house, and there he was behind me.

He lay down on his cliff and it became clear to me. He was ready to fly. He was ready to be a big goose now. He didn’t really need his mother, and he certainly didn’t need his box.

Okay, fine, stay there, I thought. I smiled and let him be.

Darkness but for the growing moon came and we were at the table having dinner. He was back on the porch. I stepped out with him and squatted beside him and he stood there with long neck extended staring out at the big moon, the glowing river. I asked him if he wanted in his box, and he continued to stare. I returned inside, and then once again, we heard him fidgeting and moments later, the squawking of him flying off.

I heard him this morning as I woke at first light, the time when it’s usually just he and me and the ravens on the cliff that no longer fly off from fear of us and have more than me been the ones to teach Rikki to fly. But really, it was silent. No ravens. No happy little chatter. No honking as he spread his wings. No Rikki.

Surely he will be back, I told myself as the sky became brighter and the ground flooded with fresh sunshine forming little ripples of steam where the frost had just been. Surely he will follow the Rio as a goose does, see his cliff, the bridge, the construction site. Hear the crows, the dog bark, the power tools and mill under which he’s spent so many hours with the white noise of motors drumming in his ears.

Won’t he?

How wild he showed me he is. I try to respect and appreciate his choices. I let him. I did not hold him back. I hope not at the expense of his life.

Ten minutes ago, here at the table in the Little Cabin looking through the old weathered windows that look like its raining even when it’s dry, there flies Rikki.

He has flown home.

Movin’ on up.

July 31, 2014July 31, 2014 / Gin Getz / 4 Comments

In terms of construction, it’s slow but steady. Stacking big hefty logs, each one peeled and grinded, worm holes revealed, larva and young beetles removed, life and death skinned back with each pull of the blade of my drawknife, sawed and sculpted by Bob’s chainsaw, and lifted with ease by Forrest and the crane. This defines the first floor, with plenty of room for windows exposing an odd view of the changing hillside, now a silent, still wave of red trees.

Each log with a story to share, seemingly old as time, though even in the widest trunk we count back only three hundred years. Before the miners. Before the homesteaders. Before the dam, the fishermen, tourists and so-called old timers. You put it all into perspective. Counting the rings in the base of a tree now used to fashion the rising walls. It’s as if we’re creating a living museum for the trees. The big old ones. The kind my grandchildren and their children may never see live and green in these mountains.

Were they really once this big, perhaps they will ask me?

Oh yes, and bigger still.

That one we called Grandfather Tree.

Forever preserved in my home. I touch the smooth warm skin of wood and wonder. With these changing times, we learn to question: is anything really forever?

Rikki is air born!

So, this morning I’m sitting in the outhouse, door open as usual, looking down at the Rio flowing big and brown from all the wild rains we’ve been having, when suddenly… this goose flies by. Yes, my goose. Up river. Then down river. I don’t see where he lands but run down to the work site and start looking along the cliffs and calling and worrying and then… there he is, popping back up the hill side behind me.

Well, I guess he figured out how those wings work.

He looked so beautiful! Said by the adoptive mother of a Canadian Goose. Me, with my fear of heights.

Nature happens. I didn’t teach him to fly any more than I taught him to swim. I don’t do either one much, so how could I? A little boy staying in one of our guest cabins sees the goose and thinks it’s a duck, and what can I say as I thought he was a duck too when we first found the little fluff ball out on the cliff all alone? He tells me he hears they can swim. He says this with great admiration. I suppose where he comes from in Texas, and likewise for us here in the high mountains, swimming is not something you really do. Yes, I tell the little boy, he swims beautifully. And, I continue, he is learning to fly. The little boy’s eyes get wide and his mouth drops open. Really? He looks down at Rikki with tremendous awe. Flies?! He says. Part question, part astonishment. Wow, this is one impressive being… Watch, I say, and I run down the hill in front of the cabin and the goose gets air born, only a foot or so off the ground for a few paces then resumes to running (because that is what his mama has taught him to do, if one learns by example…). Just enough to leave the little boy basking in the wonderment…

Summer encroaching. Caging me in, the wild beast paces… Ready to bust free and soar…

At times it feels the more I give of me the less I have, rather than being fed by the giving and feeling more whole. There are empty places within me. Do you feel the same sometimes?

In front of me a hillside of dead standing trees. Close enough to be intimate. They are fading, their sprit song paling. There is silence where there once were stories of life, growth and timely death and a natural progression which is not what I see before me now.

The silencing of our collective soul.

Now standing before us stripped, bare, and lifeless.

An emptiness I need to fill.

I don’t get out much. Not down river. Not on the road, towards town, towards what one might call “civilization.” But yesterday found me in the truck, driving down our mountain, through the burn, and back up another rural road to another destination between a couple of tourist towns.

Each car or truck that passes by the other way, I lift my hand and wave. I should. That’s only polite. I might know these people. Or I might not. Which seems to be more the case this time of year when the vast majority of vehicles out there have out of state plates and no, I don’t know them, and probably never will. But is that any excuse to not mind my manners? Pretend I didn’t notice? Sorry, no can do.

I’m losing heart. After a dozen or so waves without a response, I wonder why I’m still lifting my hand?

The warmest mornings we had this year were 45 above. And now the heat is over. The sweltering days, all ten of them, are behind. Today, cooler air. Promise of fall. Longer shadows, shorter days. Already, I swear. Maybe I’m looking for it. Eager anticipation.

Until I look back at the log cabin we’re building and see how much we still have to do before snow fly.

Time flies, the goose flies, snow will fly. And what can I do but all I can do, or nothing at all, and wonder what drives us ever onward?

Cultivate your dreams like seeds thrown into the wind. It is your work to be certain what lays down wind is fertile ground, not hard stone, permafrost, or pavement.

Marketing Madness

July 17, 2014July 17, 2014 / Gin Getz / 16 Comments

Truth is, I’ve had little time for marketing since the release of my second book, The Last of the Living Blue. Probably all for the better. For my sanity, if not for sales.

“The books will sell themselves,” some say. I’m not so certain. I’ve always been a big believer in the direct correlation between hard work and success. But I’m also learning this. I’m not a salesman, don’t make a good one, and don’t care to be one. I’m a writer, and a rather quiet, solitary sort. I’m a writer because I love to write – not because of some calling to sell myself and my work. However, I do write for others to read… Thus, the dilemma.

So, if sales are up to me (and it appears they are) well, looks like I’m not going to be retiring from my day job any time soon. I never thought cleaning cabins or digging ditch would be my calling either, but by now I know I’m damn good at both, so might as well…

Food for thought.

Live a life worth writing about.

Find your inspiration in your world.

There is always a story around me to share.

Take the time to listen. To see and feel… and write.

The one rule I’ve always believed in for writing: write regularly, and write well.

So, life goes on.

House building, the summer social scene (yes, would you believe, even way the heck up here – this time of year, at least?), back to work on Ginny’s book, and waiting out the monsoon storms before placing another log on the wall of the new cabin. Horse work is on the back burner this year, and ditch work put off until the monsoons settle down. And still there’s no shortage of work. Only a shortage of daylight and personal energy.

Simple living. I once read a quote by Dave Ramsey that went something like this: “Live like no one else now so you can live like no one else later.” I think it’s safe to say I know no one else who lives like us. Not in this country at least. Years ago, we decided it made more sense to move out and camp for the summer, rent out our big house. Then we sold that, and moved out for good. Now, we’re down at the Little Cabin. If you stop by, it might look romantic. A tiny one room log cabin over the Rio Grande. Candle light, cozy, a cute outhouse nearby complete with crescent moon cut out on the door we leave open only when we’re in there. The view down river is too good to miss.

Then there’s the reality of sponge baths and doing dishes in a bucket on the picnic table. Three of us in a whole house smaller than most of your bedrooms and some of your bathrooms. Peeing out in the rain. Digging through a box under the bed for a change of clothes (it’s easier to just wear the same old thing – heck, clean clothes are going to get dirty sooner or later). Hauling water. An abundance of dirt and bugs. A step above camping. At least we have solid walls. Not quite a solid foundation. The northeast corner is taking a dive and the over easy eggs in the cast iron pan on the wood cook stove I fry up in the morning always make a left hand turn.

Yes, we’re building bigger. (There’s a lot to be said for a toilet and kitchen sink…) And we’re building it ourselves. And that, my friend, might be yet another book!

That said, I thought I’d share this on my blog for all fellow writers and anyone else who’s interested. This stems from a conversation with a friend/fellow author who asked me to share my secrets for selling books. I had to laugh. I have no secrets, and don’t sell a lot of books! However… I have made a few observations, and for him and anyone else interested, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months in which I’ve had two books published. (Seriously, has it just been six months? Okay, Gin, you can take a deep breath, and relax… before you get back to work!)

I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and have only touched the tip of the iceberg of this topic. Still, it’s a lot to take in, so please take your time. Skim it over now, maybe come back and read in depth when you have the time. Then please, share with me (and other readers/writers) your thoughts on this after you’ve had time to read and think it over.

Marketing Madness

Reading, writing, publishing, marketing. The wide world of books. It’s all a changing game. What worked once is no longer certain. What worked yesterday may not work today, and if it works today, please don’t count on it to tomorrow. And no one has the answers.

So, what do we do? Follow each passing fancy? Or stick with what you believe in. Be true to yourself. Honor your work. And keep on writing.

I use the term “Marketing Madness” because I swear it is enough to drive you mad – or make you mad – if you let it. Or you can turn your back and walk away, but that’s probably not the best answer either. Because the bottom line is this: you wrote a good book, and people will want to read it. So, marketing, in its simplest sense, is letting people know about your book (or whatever product you are trying to market). It’s reaching people, which really is what writing is all about anyway. Only different…

The Rules.

In this changing day and age of publishing, we writers by default must learn about marketing, yet the marketing stage is hardly set. There’s no clear road to follow. We are all forming it as we go along. There are no set rules, and we’re forging new ways all the time. Learning from others – sharing what has worked, what has not – helps tremendously. If nothing else than by opening up ideas we may have not yet considered. And giving each other the well needed pat on the back, simple encouragement to keep on going. Just the same, remembering that what worked for one may not work for another, and/or the game may have changed yet again by the time you try it.

I personally find this marketing thing difficult and frustrating. I feel I am selling myself when all I want to do is write. Yes, I know, terribly idealistic. So, we learn, we grow, we try, and we know there is no fairy godmother that’s going to wave her magic wand and suddenly we’ll have everything we ever dreamed of, sales like Steven King, be all we want to be, find ourselves as an overnight success and talking about our latest book with Oprah on TV.

The Big Secret?

I hate to break the news. So far, I found there isn’t one. It’s about hard work, like it or not. And it’s up to each of us. No one will do it for you. Someone may point you in the right direction, but chances are, they won’t even hold your hand or carry you there. If you’re lucky (and you know I think luck is made up of hard work… and a good dose of, ah, guts) they’ll give you a helping hand if you’ve fallen down.

It’s up to each of us to get our name out there, our books sold, and establish a market presence. And we find out, it’s not that painful after all. Especially if it means people are reading our books, which is why we’ve done all this work anyway.

Does it ever stop? Not from what I hear. So… we have to get used to it. Find our own style. Like with finding our own voice in writing, perhaps we have to find our own way to succeed in marketing.

Sharing Ideas.

I would love to share more and learn more on this topic which isn’t always the most fun to address, but matters to all of us authors trying to get established in this crazy, changing world. We all can learn and even enjoy with the support and encouragement of each other.

I enjoy bouncing ideas back and forth and learning from others. Yes, these are interesting times and I realize there are no set rules – we’re in a very changing game here, and want to learn all I can, but be smart about my choices. I do not want to ever devalue my work and be a 99cent seller. I would like readers to read my work because it’s good, not because it’s cheap. Likewise, I have not heard one positive confirmation that paying for publicity or marketing works wonders. Let me know if you’ve heard otherwise. Save your money, and get to work.

If I’m good, sales will come in due time – but not by sitting on my hands. Hard work does not frighten me, and I don’t believe in fairy tales.

The truth: Be true!

I’m thinking there are other things we can do beside compromise our integrity. Get the word out our way – sincerely, honestly, and ourselves. Slowly, but surely. Blogging, giveaways, personal appearances, personalize anything/everything, like correspondence, and writing everyone back. Treat our readers with respect, and trust they will in turn respect our work.

I’m not finding sure fire answers. I guess there are none. Yet I shall always believe one can build success on a combination of sincerity, belief in your work, and working hard.

So far, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months about marketing in a nutshell.

What’s worked for me:

– Blogging. It’s me. It’s real. It’s sincere. I’ve been told what I do is not “proper blogging.” My posts are too long, too personal, too rambling. Yes, that’s me. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Though after six years at it, I’ve not only established a decent following of over a thousand people who care and I in turn have learned to care for, I have met many a real people because of blogging. Friends. Fellow writers, readers. People I converse with on a first name basis, and know the name of their wife, kids, dogs, and the town they grew up in. This is good stuff.

– Facebook. But minimally and with caution. It’s shallow. It caters to those who would rather “like” the latest picture of my pup than read real news, though so many of us turn to it to find some happy medium of keeping up to date and not losing touch with friends and family. I have no interest is posting selfies and telling you what I ate for dinner, but I will share my latest book and building news and blog posts. I found this summer I don’t have (or take) the time to look at the feeds, so I’m probably failing at the FB game now. I no longer look into what other folks have put up. I’m sorry. If you really want me to know, write me. I respond if I’m written to personally but otherwise, the random checking into other people’s lives has lost its interest for me when I barely have time for a bath.

– Reviews. Do your darndest to get folks to read and review. Ask people. Be personal. Don’t send out a mass mailer, but a personal note. Give them your book. You’re not asking a favor – you’re sharing a gift. Though… getting them to POST those reviews, well, that’s not always easy. Everyone is busy. Respect that. Then bug them to get it done!

– Endorsements. Take a chance – ask! I am wonderfully surprised by the person who could have hit “delete” but instead said “sure” versus the colleague I swore would have been interested but now can’t find a minute to write me back (Note to self: Be the person you want to work with! Treat EVERYONE with respect, and respond in kind.)

– Giving away pdf copies. It doesn’t cost you anything, but you get people to read it. If it’s good, and it better be or you don’t want your name on it, they’ll like it, and they’ll spread the word. Slowly but surely. Trust this one. The more readers, the better. Give it away! Maybe you lost one sale, but chances are, you’ll get a whole lot more because of it.

– Book signing. Once again, anything personal. I’m proud of my book. I want to share it. I’m shy and thought this would be torture, but it’s not. Readers are good people. Share your time and enthusiasm with them.

– Going beyond local and finding your niche. My local following… isn’t. More of my readers are from far and wide. I’m proud of this. Look far and wide. Not everyone works best from their front door. Find which way works best for you.

What didn’t work:

– Anything close to home. I’m not a social person or part of the nearby community, so this should not come as surprise to me that they didn’t care that one of their “locals” was being published. I thought suddenly they’d care. They didn’t.

– GoodReads. Their giveaways and support for authors. Not yet, at least, though I’m not done trying. So far what I found is that they attract quantity, not quality. And they are attracting a younger market than my readers. I know my readers and most would rather curl up with a book than sit at the computer surfing social media. Though, some of them do that too…

– Writing groups? I don’t have time…

– Twitter and other social media. Once again, I’d rather be sincere and be me. It’s not my style, my audience or my way of reaching out.

Getting Readers.

Of course this is the bottom line. And it’s not as easy as one would think.

You write to be read. So, you write a great story, but really – who has time to read now a days? Seriously – like remember the old summer reading list? Now we’re all too tied up and life’s too complicated and sitting down with a good book seems a million miles away most days.

And if there are readers out there, which I still believe there are, how do you reach them? Well, that’s what this is all about, this marketing madness thing.

And that’s where reviews come into play.

Getting Reviews.

This is a big one, and tops the list for “to do” because it really does matter. Though I honestly haven’t figured out why yet. I’ll let you know if/when I do. For now, I just know this. It’s a numbers game, maybe, but it’s not a bad or evil one, I don’t feel compromised, I just try to encourage readers to share (and post) their reviews.

Try anyway. Keep trying. Give away. The more you give, the more you get. That’s nothing new – we should all know that already.

How do you go about getting reviews? Start by asking. Personally. And then, you got it, follow up. It’s a bit of a dilemma. People promise. They mean well. But at the end of the day, where the heck are the reviews and the reviewers? Seriously, getting people to post reviews can be like getting water from a rock. (Once again, note to self: treat others how you wish to be treated! I’ve learned to post positive reviews for writers who could use them, and deserve them!)

There are places you can actually pay people to review your book. Let me know if that works for you. I haven’t done this and have no intention of trying. Maybe I’m a cheap skate, but I believe my writing is good enough that I don’t need to pay someone to read it. I think the point is, I want someone to WANT to read my books. And I want the right people to read my books, not some random person who is just doing it for the money. It might be the slower way of doing things, but once again, for me, it’s the sincere route, and the way I’ve chosen. I’m not going there. Not unless you convince me otherwise.

Reviews matter. They are important numbers our industry (books/publishing) bases our success upon. They help other readers find books, choose books. They need not be elaborate or fancy. Some are. That’s great. Some aren’t. And that’s great too. Not everyone wants to read a long one (or write a long one). Although those long one do help the curious book explorer understand their selection well, those short and to the point ones matter too. One of my favorites, from reviewer Lisa: “Damn good read.” That works for me!

Social Media

Of course I need to elaborate on this. It’s a huge topic, but I’d like to put it in its place and keep it small and manageable. I personally think that’s all it is worthy of. I am, after all, not a social butterfly. The following is based on a conversation with fellow writer, Kayann Short.

Social Media is hot right now. It’s new, news, ever changing… and flaky. You can play the game and go for the latest greatest, which may be something new and shiny next week, so stay on your toes. But if you do choose to play this game, ask yourself this… Is it you? Are you being sincere? Are you willing to give as much as you get? (Remember that 80/20 rule for those of us who use these things not just for entertainment, but for business: give 80 percent of the time and be lucky to get responses back the other 20.) Does it have substance? Are the people hooked on social media your readers, your target market? I wonder.

On the other hand, would the impact and importance of community involvement, writers groups (personal networking, etc) as well as writers and readers working together (as in book events, signings, etc), be more valuable than randomly reaching the masses impersonally with spam and twitter?

Is social media the modern way and the way of the future for writers? I don’t think so. I think it’s fickle. And I don’t want to be.

I’m not saying I’m ruling it all out. I’m open minded, just hesitant. I’m trying to learn the new rules, but I see too much fly by night, flitter, twitter, missing a backbone, spineless, give it a try, let it go, and try something new… The latest, greatest, bubble gum burst lasts about as long as that flavor… That’s my hard, harsh take on social media so far.

Personal Appearances

This is my style. Keep it personal. Be real, be me. Book signings, community events, anything personal. Get to know your readers, and the bookstores.

I was petrified of doing this at first. But it’s not as painful as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s really FUN. And an incredible opportunity to share, meet, learn.

Learn from your readers.

Learn what touches people.

Learn who your readers are!

Keep it personal – that’s my rule of thumb. I hope I’m always open to hear from my readers. There’s a lot to learn if you’re willing to listen. And you might even meet some great folks along the way. Icing on the cake, but what would a cake be without it?

Writer’s Leagues, Groups, Conventions

Support groups?

Writers Anonymous!

No, really, there are some amazing groups, organizations, leagues… Join! Participate! Share! There’s something to learn from everyone if you’re willing to listen. Find your niche, and find like minds or at least, like markets. Share ideas. Listen to what others are going through, and share what you’ve learned. I’m new to all this and learning all the time but am learning it’s fun – you’re dealing with other writers. And they’re in the same boat you are in, paddling madly to get to the other side and still looking at the same side of the river bank.

Help each other out, and maybe the tide will be more likely to turn.

What’s next?

Do you want to find and follow the next trend, or learn what works best for you and develop your own style? I’m big on being sincere, true to myself, true to my readers. All I can do is hope that in the long run, this approach will pay off.

I don’t want to be silly thinking my books will sell themselves, nor turn into a door-to-door salesman when what I am is a writer. We each must find what works best for each of us, I suppose, but certainly be willing to work. Ultimately, I want to be sincere. I still have to look in the proverbial mirror at the end of the day, and I want to like the person I see staring back at me.

What works for you? What ideas and suggestions do you have? Any advice you’d like to share? What are your thoughts on Marketing Madness?

Please take a moment to leave a comment so we all can learn from each other. Or if you prefer, you can always write me personally at gingetz at gmail dot com.

How to be Happy.

July 9, 2014July 9, 2014 / Gin Getz / 8 Comments

Fellow author and blogger, C.M. Mayo, asked me to write a guest post for her blog, Madam Mayo. I skimmed over her requested requirements, thought to myself, I could never come up with something like that. What do I know? And then the answer came to me, and I couldn’t stop writing!

I am no expert at anything. But I am learning a lot, and I’m always game for trying. What I can’t share are some guaranteed fool proof tried and true methods that I know for certainty and feel the need to teach you, the reader, because I have it all figured out and maybe you don’t. I don’t either. So all I can do is share with you what I’m learning. And maybe we can learn it together. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. That’s what it’s all about.

Well, after finishing writing this piece, I took a closer look at the requirements and sample posts, and realized I got it all wrong. I mean, totally. And I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything else to write about since I was so excited by this. Besides, I don’t think she wants to get political or stir waters, and since my second book addresses climate change from a personal perspective, and climate change is still by some considered a political issue, not a reality, I don’t think she’d want my list of Five Ways to Save the Trees or anything like that. So, I’m sharing this.

The five essential habits of positive people (or how to be happy in five easy steps)

Imagine if there were a few secret ingredients to a happy life. You know, inside information, words of wisdom shared by the happiest people. The tricks of the trade for the happy. What works for those people who smile a lot, seem comfortable with who they are, love their work, like the people around them, are nice to be around and nice to those around them. And imagine if we could learn from these people. Because who among us does not wish to be happier?

Say there are a few specific “rules” we can follow to find ourselves happier, what would they be? They would have to be inspirational, happy, humorous, fun, not preachy, not perfect, things to try for with room to grow and plenty of forgiveness, because we’re human and we always have to try.

It would be about choice. We can choose happier habits. Ultimately, we can choose our thoughts, rather than have our thoughts (and emotions) choose our direction. Not to negate these things – It’s just that most of us need to learn to live with them, keep them in line. Not let our emotions rule us and run our lives.

We can start by following the example of people we admire. People who are trying, against odds, to make the world a better place and find a better place within themselves. I’m not talking about the happy go lucky folks for whom life’s been just fine and they get through just fine – but never do anything great. I want to be all I can, try it all, experience life to the fullest. That means ups and downs. Good times and bad times. Make mistakes.

If we don’t fall on our face, we haven’t tried to run. Life’s too short to walk through. So, every once in a while, run! Flat out. And maybe you’ll fall. Get back up, dust yourself off, and when your wounds have healed (if you really must wait that long) try again. “Only those who have had, can lose.” You can go through life playing it safe. Make it through to the finish line. Slow, steady. Nothing fancy, no fan fare, no bells and whistles or even a lot of cheers along the way. Or you can dance your way through life and sometimes stumble. If you don’t try to dance, you don’t have to worry about making the wrong moves. Oh come on. Give it a try. Dance!

Sure, you can’t be happy all the time. That would be ridiculous. But you can be happier more often. It’s up to you.

Start your day on a positive note. Here’s one we learned from Zig Ziglar. Before you even get out of bed, clap your hands and say something wonderful about yourself, your world, and the day you’ve got ahead of you. Then this one from Louise Hay. Tell yourself you love yourself. Look in a mirror if you have one and say it to yourself that way. I don’t, and I live in a small one-room cabin. If I woke up clapping my hands and talking in the mirror, I think my boys would really worry. At the very least, I’d wake them up, and those who know me know this: don’t disturb my mornings. So, I keep it quiet, let them sleep, and try to say these things in my head.
Patience. Learn to slow down. Let go. Boy this is a hard one for me. For so many in society where we’re often judged on how busy we pretend to be, but how jam packed we fill our days, placing self value on number of hours worked (though do we stop and think how much we actually accomplish?). The more we can justify being busy, the better people we think we are. Or so we are told. Things are changing. That worked great to develop the modern world, create fast food and Wal-marts, capitalism and consumerism. But it didn’t bring us closer to happiness. Try meditation, walking, yoga, breathing. Watch a snowflake fall on your hand and melt. Sit and wait in the early dark to see the moon clear the horizon (or nearest building). Listen to the wind or the water or the waves. Find a tree and hear the leaves rustle. “Learn to let go. That is the key to happiness.” – Jack Kornfield, Buddha’s Little Instruction Book.
Life’s short – eat dessert first. All these excuse for why not. Think of all the reason why instead. Just do it. Learn to do something new every day. Never say never. Don’t let yourself (or someone you love) say “I can’t.” Go ahead, give it a try. Now. What are you waiting for? Don’t bother telling me. I don’t want to hear. I want to hear what you want to do, and what you’re doing to get there. Rather, I want to show me. Do it. Come on, dream!
Give. Practice – and expand on – compassion. Do random acts of kindness. Do something for someone without strings attached every single day. It doesn’t have to cost money. It doesn’t have to take much time. Just share the gifts you already have. You have a lot. As a writer, I like to share my words. A cook shares food, a photographer images, a mother comfort – these are the gifts we share, not just to make a living or get the job done or for self importance, acceptance, acknowledgement or reward. Simply to give what we can. Share your gifts. What gifts can you share? We all have something special. Creativity, prayer, song. Think beyond the box. Or look deep inside. There’s lots there. Open it up and share it. I bet there’s plenty to go around.
Have fun, smile, dance. I don’t have TV. Last month I finally saw the Ellen Show for the first time while staying at my sister’s house. Apparently she dances every day. Right on. Then there is Ginny, the woman who’s life my next book is based upon. Dancing in the Wind… There she is, even in her wheelchair. Dancing. If she can, I can too. Do it. Dance. It feels really good. And if you dance like no one’s looking, you can’t help but find yourself be smiling like you mean it. And yes, chances are, you’ll feel happy.

This is how my mind works.

July 7, 2014 / Gin Getz / 3 Comments

Caught in the middle in a land of extremes. The silence and solitude of winter now so far away. Today it’s about moving, shaking, building, banging, people, pleasing, chatting, listening, hearing a road racing with RVs and ATVs and almost forgetting the soft pale rumble I barely hear behind all this motion and commotion that is the Rio Grande. A certain and steady flow, drawing the line in a crystal clear sparkling swath between a high mountain summer season Mecca and a tranquil hillside of dead and dying trees which is where my heart is lost this time of year. Disconnected.

It’s the end of another day spent cleaning cabins, working on our new one, and sharing it all with the steady stream of visitors which summer brings. I’m going to go running. The dark clouds that have been building all afternoon suddenly seem more serious and a few fat full heavy drops tap loudly on the metal roof like anticipating fingers on a table top as I’m taking off my work boots and putting on my running shoes. No matter. I’m going to run. I’m going to sneak away from the goose, the tourists, the slowly growing cabin and the pending inevitability of figuring out what to cook for dinner over the old wood cook stove fueled by scraps of wood from the construction site, and appeasing appetites fueled from that construction work.

Out there in the rain, under a dark sky and through oddly eerie brown blue spruce stripped of needles, some having recently left their load still pale green in patches beneath their slipping bark and along the trail.

An owl calls. It is that dark.

The dog is in front, beside me, behind me, off in the woods to my left, my right, you never know except then suddenly there he is, as happy and wet and wild as I am and I’m feeling leaping over fallen trees that litter the trail, hair soaking and chest sweating and skinny legs nimbly peddling through wet brush.

I return to the baby cheeps of the goose on the top of the cliff above the river, looking down at me where I’m crossing – calling me home. He the wild thing, and me the domesticated. But for right now, it all feels upside down in the soaked state of summer rains in the high country.

Dear Readers: In case you have not yet had the time, please be sure to put these books on your Summer Reading List: The Color of the Wild and The Last of the Living Blue. And when you have finished reading them, and I shall sincerely hope enjoyed them, please take an extra few moment (really, that’s all it takes!) and post a review on Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, GoodReads, social media… where ever you feel comfortable, for reviews do matter and really do help!

And Reviewers: Those of you who requested and received a review copy. I hope you have read or are reading… and truly hope you enjoy! When you can, please take a moment to post your review. A huge THANK YOU to those who already have.

Growing up.

The new house. Not me. Though sometimes it feels one in the same. Solid roots. Walls. The Real Deal. (My boys may cringe at that one.)

This week brought walls slowly rising. Milling our own rough cut lumber. Framing out the first windows. Looking out. Looking in. Knowing now what that view will be like… Not too bad. Slow birth of a home, coming to life.

Peeling logs. Each a work of art. New life to dead trees.

The culprit revealed as we chip off the bark and grind smooth the knots and corners.

Life among the beetles. A couple years ago, we didn’t know what one looked like. Now we crush them with our hand tools as we wrestle each log in place, flick them from each other’s shirts, shake them from our hair, brush them off the log surface before we draw the line to make the measure that will mark the cut for the next part of the wall to the ever growing home. Did you know they bite? Maybe after working on the mill and peeling logs and sweeping up sawdust, I smell enough like a tree that they give me a go. We watch their random flight paths in the low light of evening as we pack up our tools and call it a day.

What will be the fate of the last living blue?

This is how my mind works. In random bursts. In colors red and gold then stormy steel grey, light and dark, warm and cold, getting colder. Discipline of body, of ritual, of ways to work. But not in peace of mind. You can’t really call me steady, level, even.

I leave you with this to consider.

A Rumi a dear friend shared with me yesterday:

Run from what is comfortable

Forget safety

Live where you fear to live

I have tried prudent living long enough

From now on I’ll be mad.

Don’t forget the power of anger. Use it wisely. On one hand, it can eat you alive. On the other, it can feed you. Fuel the fire of inevitable change.

Nothing stays the same.

Progress to date.

July 1, 2014July 1, 2014 / Gin Getz / 15 Comments

This post is all about progress on our home. Sharing the details to date. For those who care, are curious, and/or want to learn. Log Cabin Building 101 and then some. Let me start by telling you this. This is no Little Cabin. We’re doing it all to code. It’s solid, seemingly complicated and overkill at times, but it sure as heck is going to out last us all. And boy-oh-boy are we learning along way. Sometime more than I cared to or thought I needed to know. I still have this thing about simple. Funny thing is, elaborate and grande as it seems to us, it’s still so simple to some people’s standards for a high mountain, year-round full-time home for three.

So, here it is. Custom log home building at it’s funnest. A family affair. A home built by us, for us, with love. Evolving…

In the meanwhile, it’s business as usual in the other cabins as the guest ranch is up and running, we’re camping out in the Little Cabin, and life is good. Simple. Well, sort of. Best not get me started…

Where were we last time I shared an update? The ground was dug out, a level spot excavated, footer set and poured, stem walls formed, in-floor heating coils laid out and slab for the shop smoothed out. Then we set the floor joists… All this just to get started and have a helluva crawl space. Then again, I am looking forward to indoor plumbing once again, so whatever it takes, I guess.

Next, the sub-floor is laid out and oiled.

Then it’s time for the logs. First, we have to get them from our stock pile of those beetle kill trees we harvested from our land across the frozen river over winter. Secret weapons include: Lee’s borrowed crane, Bob’s new CAT, Todd and Barbara (seriously, where did you guys come from, and at just the right moment?), and my magnificent work crew (husband and son).

Thanks, Ellen, for sharing the great perspective on that last shot!

Okay, so once the logs are up, then they get moved by (borrowed) crane to (borrowed) mill.

From there, with help of the crane, these solid “logs” are put in place. Each one is milled two, three or four sided as need be. We’re doing custom, traditional “butt and pass” log construction. Base logs average a whopping 16 inches plus wide. We’ll be warm.

And there you have it. The base logs are set. Walls are defined (of the first floor, at least). Time for movin’ on up!

Really, I swear I do more than take pictures (and feed the crew). No comments about the chicken legs, please.

I can’t thank enough those who have shared so much with us already – their mill, their crane, their crane operating expertise (and great company), their support, encouragement and enthusiasm… but I will try: THANK YOU.

Now, onto raising the walls. This is the fun part. It’s all fun. The best part is simply being here together, working with the best work crew in the world. My husband and son.

Not a bad place to work either.

Oh, and one last note, speaking about growth and progress. Rikki… Then and now…

Good News.

June 27, 2014 / Gin Getz / 10 Comments

Wow! We’re live on Amazon!

The Last of the Living Blue is available NOW– in paperback and Kindle. Amazing – three days ahead of schedule!

Okay, Reviewers: Now you can post your reviews! Please, when you can… your help is so appreciated and truly needed.

And speaking of Reviewers:

Sammie has wonderfully offered to extend the opportunity: A free paperback copy of The Last of the Living Blue in exchange for posting a review. If you would like to take her up on this very generous offer, please write her at sammie@norlightspress.com, and be sure to give her your mailing address. Sammie is super – there are no strings attached – this is just a way of spreading the word, sharing, and generating more interest for a book we both believe in. Seriously, reviews do matter. Please take the time to share and post. Most importantly, I hope you read this new book, and I hope you love it.

I’m told you’re not supposed to get too attached to your work. Too late. I am. It is a part of me. It is my gift to you.

This one matters so much to me. This one is for the trees…

Thank you all for your kindness and support, for reading, sharing, listening, inspiring… I am just so happy right now! Thank you!!!

Giveaways!

June 26, 2014June 26, 2014 / Gin Getz / 6 Comments

Hi friends. Here are a couple of neat opportunities for getting a free copy of my next book, the soon to be released The Last of the Living Blue!

First, my publisher, Sammie of NorLights Press, is offering a release day promotion. For the first ten people who contact her directly, she will send a hard copy of the paperback book in exchange for posting a review.

Please write Sammie at sammie@norlightspress.com.

Second, GoodReads is running a Giveaway from now through the first of July. You can sign up by following this link, but remember, you have to be a member of GoodReads to enter.

Reviews are so essential for spreading the word, and we’re pretty certain this book is going to be a great one. So the more copies of the book we can get out there, and reviews coming in, the better for us all.

Less than a week away!

Have you read the first book yet?

(You can order it here on Amazon, or better yet, please support your local bookstores!)

Good luck, and happy reading!

PS. A quick note and afterthought on Reviews.

Reviews matter. They are important numbers our industry (books/publishing) base our success upon. They help other readers find books, choose books. But they need not be elaborate or fancy. Some are. That’s great. Some aren’t. And that’s great too. Not everyone wants to read a long one (or write a long one). Although those long one do help the curious book explorer understand their selection well, those short and to the point ones matter too. One of my favorites, from reviewer Lisa: “Damn good read.” That works for me!

It’s about me.

June 18, 2014June 20, 2014 / Gin Getz / 12 Comments

It’s about me.

I’m on the steep grass hillside up the Ute Ridge trail looking north. Gunnar is next to me, sitting, watching. Haven’t seen another person since I left the ranch. There are big fat clouds randomly shading the open expanse of water and the cradling hills on either side. Not dark clouds. They hold no weight. I don’t think it’s going to rain. With all this wind whipping the earth dry again, I sort of wish it would. I packed a jacket just in case. You can’t see far. The last mountain range is blurring into obscurity by blown up sands or silt from the charred hillsides down river.

I think the last time I was here was when we silently watched the smoldering remains of the Papoose Fire on the other side of the Rio Grande Reservoir. Seems like a long time ago. This time last year. There were no cars on the road when I looked down then like there are now, leaving a trail of pale brown dust in their wake long after they have passed.

Random notes on the Season and Life.

Big snow banks getting small. The river is going down. Now it’s as high as I’ve ever seen high waters in the dozen years before this. June winds so strong we hope the outhouse doesn’t blow over again. My skin is wind burned and eyes are bloodshot from working out there in it all day and there is too much to do to stay inside.

Progress on the new cabin. The floor joists are measured carefully, cut in the wind with sawdust flying, and securely screwed in place, blocked and insulated. I can’t wait to start with the logs. Almost there…

We’re a good team. Not a day passes without my thinking I’m the luckiest lady alive to be out their building a home with my boys. A real home this time.

Nineteen degrees in the morning and those spectacular wild iris on pasture froze, gave up and surrendered, folding over purple face down. Up here, it’s hard on wildlife, harder still to garden.

Roaring wind and raging

water

A fervent embrace

From the wild beast

within

While around me

Remains of last

season

Circle about courting me

In a whirlwind dance

Of tangled life and

death

Before me on the little table that contains three steaming coffee cups, remnants of last night’s dinner, our open laptap computers, and promises of the breakfast to come. And in that clutter, my proof copy of The Last of the Living Blue! It’s beautiful – what a wonderful job NorLights Press has done again. Thank you, Sammie. Some time between setting the plywood over floor joists and riding in to check the ditch, I’ll read (at least, skim) it over one more time (yes, one more damn time… by tomorrow) and then off it goes to press. Yippeee!

Oh, so that part about me?

Well, it started with this.

At the Tattered Cover event last week where I was promoting my first book, The Color of the Wild. The event, on a side note, and much to my surprise, was quite fun. A super big THANK YOU to all those who joined me, turned out, showed support, listen and talked with me, and to the many wonderful new faces I was able to meet. Anyway, in the presentation, I touched on this, with regards to writing memoir:

“Memoir is a medium for sharing intimate views – in my case, besides my views of nature, I share glimpses into personal issues, losses, pain, sadness. And growth and good stuff too. Memoir allows introspection both for the reader and the writer… Sharing your world, exposing oneself, bleeding with words on paper… Ultimately, it all ends up being about words. I want my words to sound good. I want my writing to read well aloud.

“Yes, the story is about me. It’s my story, my view.

“On the other hand, memoir opens odd doors of others hoping/wishing/assuming it’s about them, so you learn to leave their concerns and comments behind, and focus on what you set out to do.”

Bottom line: This is my story. And most importantly, I hope, a well written one.

Alas, here I am with my second book coming out end of the month, something I humbly consider an achievement and accomplishment, and from what I’m seeing in the reviews and reception, it is well done. But around these parts, I’m more likely to hear, “Oh no, you’ve written another book” rather than “Right on, you’ve written another book.” Interesting. So much for celebrating and sharing in your victories. Sad but true.

The truth comes out. Who really cares about you? And… what kind of people are they, anyway?

Fortunately, part of growing up is choosing. I’m so grateful for the loving, caring, supportive family, friends and readers I do chose, and who have chosen me. Thank you. If I haven’t told you all before, I’m also so thankful for the kind notes those who have been touched by my writing have taken the time to share with me. That is the reason we write, share our words and world. That makes it all worthwhile.

Maybe you have heard that blood is thicker than water, as if that would solve matters, demand forgiveness, and make dysfunctional families okay. It doesn’t work for me. I can’t help but wonder: Since when is thick a good thing, a compliment, something to strive for, a positive personal quality?

Sometimes, blood is simply stickier than water. Know when to wash your hands.

A Request for Reviewers!

June 10, 2014 / Gin Getz / 13 Comments

Readers – and Reviewers – Wanted!

I’m looking for a few willing and able readers. If you are interested in receiving an advance reviewers’ pdf copy of The Last of the Living Blue in exchange for posting/sharing honest reviews (on Amazon, GoodReads, etc.) please e-mail me directly at gingetz at gmail dot com. I would so appreciate your help, and sincerely hope you will enjoy.

Please remember. Not every book is for every person. I’m a nature writer and memoir writer. If your thing is romance or sci-fi or erotica, don’t waste your time (or mine). I mean no offence to those genres. That’s just not what I write. (This comes after getting my first bad review – from a woman who has a Playboy bunny symbol as her portrait picture. What a surprise. She won a copy of my book, so she read it. Well, I suppose I should be happy she read it… )

Oh, and the new cover… What do you think? I would love to hear your feedback.

Anyway, today it’s all business (well, mostly…) and self promotion. Please bear with me. It’s all good stuff.

The biggest of course is this. The release of The Last of the Living Blue is scheduled for the end of the month. The cover is completed, the layout is laid out, and the team at NorLights Press is once again jumping through flaming hoops (well, no, not really, but I imagine they feel like it at the end of some days) to get this done, and beautifully.

If you’re one of those wondering how lucky I am to have two books out in one year, yes indeed, I am feeling very lucky, but please remember this. The first one took me five years and a stack a mile high (or so it felt) of rejection letters. And all along I remembered this. Something I once read. Forget the rejection letters and keep on writing. So I did. You can too. Writing or riding, dancing or drawing, or what ever it is you’ve been dreaming about.

Writing is my dream. (Part of it.) I’m still somewhat in shock that people actually read what I write…

Well, let me tell you a little bit about The Last of the Living Blue:

“The Last of the Living Blue (scheduled for release June 30, 2014 by NorLights Press) is an intimate, intense personal account of the effects of our changing climate in our big back yard, Colorado’s majestic mountains and the Weminuche Wilderness. It reads close and comfortable, though the times it takes you through are often anything but. It’s real and raw, told in a soft yet powerful voice, taking the reader along through one year of drought, fires, floods and the healing of mountain and mind.

“This beautifully told story addresses a matter of utmost concern from a unique perspective and in a quiet yet captivating tone. The Last of the Living Blue is an unusual approach to addressing the effects of climate change upon our beautiful world, one tree at a time. Neither a preachy lecture, nor a “everything’s peachy” scenario, you’ll find yourself enchanted with Gin’s prose, poetry and storytelling as she open up her world to us and shares with the reader in stunning words what she sees.”

What people are already saying about The Last of the Living Blue:

“How does somebody hear a forest unraveling? How can she see a mountain sighing? With the patience of a predator and the melancholy notes of an autumn breeze, The Last of the Living Blue brings to us what is hidden before our eyes, disturbing yet enduringly beautiful. In a world careening recklessly over the speed limit, Gin Getz’s ‘quiet voice singing’ is worth stopping to hear.”

— Daniel Glick, author of Monkey Dancing: A Father, Two Kids, and a Journey to the Ends of the Earth (Public Affairs)

“Gin Getz writes exquisite prose about life on the mountain and at the headwaters of the Rio Grande. This is a passionate book: by a woman, for all that she loves intensely. And that’s a lot. This is a beautiful book to read.”

— Harold Rhenisch, author of Motherstone: British Columbia’s Volcanic Plateau

A special thanks to Donna McBroom-Theriot for sharing such a wonderful review of The Color of the Wild on her fantastic web site: My Life, One Story at a Time.

For all those folks who have asked if I have books on hand for sale, I do not. I prefer supporting local book sellers. Of course the book is available on-line at Amazon and Barnes & Nobles but if you can buy local, please do. The Color of the Wild is currently available in Lake City at Timberline Craftsman, and in Creede at San Juan Sports. Two stores you definitely should visit if you’re in or passing through this part of Colorado.

Oh, and speaking of local bookstores…

For those of you in or near the Denver area, if you’re around Thursday evening, please stop by the Tattered Cover (Historic LoDo location) at 7 pm. I’ll be presenting a talk, reading and slide show based on my work and world. I’d love to see you, meet you, and share with you there. (I would also really appreciate your support!) I think it will be fun, but I’m honestly more than a little nervous.

And… although talking is not usually my thing, I’ll be speaking with the fabulous Irene Rawlings for a radio interview before the Tattered Cover event. I’ll let you know (probably via Facebook) when the interview will be aired. Can’t wait to meet her!

On other fronts, house building is progressing. Slowly but surely. The rain, hail and snow slowed us a down a little (as did the mud stuck to our boots), but the footer and foundation are complete. My roots are in the Earth.

Gin Getz

On the intimate connection between person and place. Sharing words and images of wilds within and around.

Author: Gin Getz

Learning to let go.

Movin’ on up.

Marketing Madness

How to be Happy.

This is how my mind works.

Progress to date.

Good News.

Giveaways!

It’s about me.

A Request for Reviewers!

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