The Heart is a Muscle is born! Cue party poppers and happy dancing—and cringing and whinging.
While I’m mostly used to new book releases (though I’m still stoked and in awe every time I complete a book and share it with the world), I wasn’t prepared for the extreme nervousness that’s holding hands with my happiness today.
Sharing my writing always feels slightly scary (and used to feel utterly terrifying), though I’m one of those lucky people who has a good game face and can generally seem at ease with everything. And over the years, sharing my novels has gotten easier: all the fun, waaaaay less of the fear and anxiety. Sharing my first poetry collection, however? Eeek. It feels very vulnerable. And maybe that’s the point. Being a human is very vulnerable.
Life is complex, and I’ve found that in order to survive it, I’ve had to make peace with and hold a lot of contradictory emotions. And poetry helps.
If you’re familiar with my novels, you know that the rub of human existence is a theme I explore often: how joy and deep, profound, incredible beauty coexists with horrible things and excruciating experiences and situations. The poems that I, Angie Dorsey, and Nancy Davies chose for The Heart is a Muscle grew out of that coexistence as well, and as its longer title promises, throughout its pages, in various forms and ways, light and dark, we explore love, pain (though, in hindsight, perhaps grief would’ve been a more apt word), healing, and joy.
It’s that last state—joy—that really speaks to me now. As a younger poet, it was always pain, hardship, and rage—my own and that of the world at large—that fueled my pen. I still feel those emotions (and myriad others) deeply, and denying them or trying to avoid them is impossible (and arguably, unhealthy), but more and more it’s the light side of the shadows—that I also feel so, so intensely and am so grateful for—that I long to somehow portray, share, explore.
And on that note, I excitedly (and yep, still trepidatiously) present of our collection of poems about just some of the experiences and emotions of being human. I so hope you enjoy our offerings!
You can find The Heart is a Muscle in eBook from the from the vendor of your choice here.
It is also available widely in paperback and will soon be winging its way to Misty River Books!
And if you’d like a signed copy, please reach out to me at ev_bishopATSIGNyahoo.com. I’d love to sell you one and ship it to you personally. ❤️
I’ve been celebrating in various ways big and small all month, and as a grand finale to the official launch festivities, the fabulous, incredibly supportive Terrace Public Library and Misty River Books are throwing a tea party! 🥳💕
If you live in Terrace or the surrounding area, please come out this Thursday evening (October 22) at 6:00 pm. We’ll celebrate Something Borrowed in particular, The Second Chance Shop books in general, and the meaning and stories attached to objects we treasure, new and old. And on that last note, please bring a personal item that has special significance or a story attached to it. I can’t wait to see you! It’s been too long between book lover events for me.
And, of course, whether it works for you to come for tea or not, I do hope you’ll treat yourself to the fun of visiting The Second Chance Shop and experiencing Vic’s story in Something Borrowed.
All she’s ever wanted is for someone to love her as much as she loves them . . .
So why is she alone, facing midlife questions about what comes next, and estranged from her adult son?
When Vic moves “home” to care for her ailing—and relentlessly critical—mother, she’s hoping for a peaceful place to regroup and figure out her future. Instead, she’s confronted by old wounds, familiar dysfunction, and a tendency to slip into destructive coping habits.
Then she gets caught shoplifting at the cozy, eclectic Second Chance Shop.
Humiliated and ashamed, Vic faces a difficult truth: the only common denominator in all her unhealthy relationships is her.
But change is possible. If she’s willing to heal old hurts and rewrite the stories she’s always believed about herself, she could gain genuine friendships, a healed relationship with her son, and maybe even something she’s long given up on: lasting romantic love.
First, however, she must learn that self-hatred is something borrowed—and the love she’s spent her life searching for begins within.
So, there’s been a fairly big personal change for me recently. While living away from home the past six months, I’ve had to confront my need for a cane . . . and I’ve started using one. I was (am) a little shocked at what a difficult and conflicted decision it was for me.
If you’re interested in my thoughts and feelings about it, either for yourself or for a loved one facing similar chronic pain and/or mobility issues, here are links to my CBC 1st Person article about it, and a follow up interview about it with Shauna Powers on CBC’s Saskatchewan Weekend radio show.
Ooooof, I hardly know where to start. I want to babble about so many things today! Pour a cup of coffee and visit with me—and let’s start with thoughts about the Word for the Year trend, shall we?
I am a recovering Resolution maniac. Historically, the lead-up to a new year would find me creating huge lists (often two pages of rule-lined paper, I kid you not!) of all my “resolutions.” Now, I have no problem with resolutions as a concept. I love goal-setting, dreaming, planning and scheming. However, sadly (sorry, little Ev, younger Ev, all past Evs.), my resolution lists were more like thinly veiled (or not thinly at all) criticisms, a catalogue of self-hatred, an inventory of all my perceived flaws and then a “remedy” for fixing them.
A few years ago, I decided no more. Life was hard enough. People were mean enough. I needed to start having my own back. Needed to treat myself with the kindness and respect that I always strove hard to extend to others. I started practising something called RSA (radical self-acceptance and radical acceptance of others. It has been wonderful, freeing, and very growing. I do it incredibly imperfectly, and that’s a-ok. 😁 RSA could be its own blog post, actually!)
And yet, I’m still a girl who loves to plan and dream, who enjoys looking back and thoughtfully considering what lessons the past might hold. I love being fully immersed in the present moment while simultaneously fantasising about possible futures. I missed my annual end-of-year resolution session, with candles, wine and mulling time. (Thankfully, not everything in my resolution tradition was mean to myself.)
Anyway, around the time I was realizing my way of making resolutions perhaps wasn’t the healthiest, most beneficial, not to mention kindest, thing I could do for myself, a friend introduced me to the concept of adopting a word for the year, rather than drafting towering to-do and NOT-do lists.
I was hooked. I loved the idea of—in a gentle, kind, super positive way—figuring out what I needed or wanted most in the upcoming year and then reminding myself to focus on it throughout the year. I haven’t missed my resolutions yet, and each year I feel my WOY becomes more powerful.
Last year’s was Fearless. And I definitely, because of that word, chose to pursue things and reach for things that I might not have because of nerves or insecurity, “practicality,” “other commitments,” “good sense,” etc. (All words, for me, that I’ve started to recognise as fear).
And choosing to be fearless, not talk myself out of going for things or trying new things, led to three extraordinary adventures for 2026.
1) I committed to return to writing full-time, with the start date in mind of January 2026. Whoohooo!
2) This past summer, a very enticing call for applicants popped into my Social Media and, well, the long and short of it is that I am beyond thrilled, beyond super excited (and you guys know how excited and enthusiastic I am by nature!) and beyond honoured to announce that I am going to be Regina Public Library’s Writer in Residence January 2026 – June 2026.
Just some of the things I’ll be doing as the WIR are:
One-to-one assistance with personal writing projects, providing writing advice and suggestions, giving encouragement and support, and offering insight into all publishing phases: from research, to writing the first draft, to publication
Public readings and Q&A sessions
Free writing workshops
If you’re in Regina, SK, or it’s an easy mini road trip for you, set up an appointment to connect with me (e-mail wir@reginalibrary.ca)! I’d love to chat about—and possibly help with—your writing goals!
The Writer-in-Residence program doesn’t just benefit the writing community, however. The lucky recipient (in this case, ME!) is also given time and resources to work on their own projects. It was fantastic timing. Having already decided to return to writing full-time after taking three or so years off, this opportunity makes that shift feel absolutely lovely and meant to be.
3) Late summer, a writing acquaintance reached out to me with an amazing opportunity, wondering if I’d be interested. . . . and I was. I am thrilled to share that I’ve joined Sterling & Stone, a multi-media story studio.
So . . . that’s me. Very excited after a year of nervously committing to being fearless—a year that utterly surprised me by being gentle, kind and fun—and leading to such exciting things for this year. (A very welcome and needed balm after some very, very difficult years.)
I understand that for some of you, however, 2025 was NOT the kind of year it was to me. If you’re happy to see it in the rearview mirror, I get that, and I hope that 2026 is much better in every way.
And if there’s something you’re longing to pursue but feel nervous or have a million “good” reasons why you shouldn’t . . . Please go for it. Be fearless! 💓
It has been a strange summer weather-wise where I live (understatement!), with weeks of unseasonably cold weather, followed by surprising heatwaves, then cold again, then hot. At the beginning of August, we thought we’d seen the last of the sunshine and that fall had moved in way too early—only to have it come back with force around the middle of the month. Now it’s the end of August, but it feels like high summer.
I’ve been taking advantage of the glorious blue skies and visiting Lakelse Lake Picnic site, aka “my” lake :D, as much as I possibly can, even if it’s just for a quick dip. Lakelse Lake Picnic Site has been a big part of my summer, a source of infinite joy (that’s not an exaggeration) and huge balm for my sorrows, for over 45 years now. A fact that both delights and boggles me! On her golden sands, I feel Holly Smale’s words in the novel from I Know How This Ends to my bones: “Time is somehow before me and also every memory is there too.”
I moved to Terrace in 1979. Driving into town that first time, I was horrified. Had we moved back to Kamloops? The lawns had the same parched, burnt-to-beige color. Every strip of dirt was hard-baked clay. My legs stuck to the ivory vinyl seats of the station wagon. My hair was wet on my neck and glued by sweat to my forehead. It was HOT.
My brother and I unpacked our rooms and tried to explore, but it was too warm. For days, we lived in our sprinkler and wading pool. Then water restrictions ruled; no sprinkler all day. We could fill the pool once a day, but a whole day of three kids playing in one small pool quickly creates a grass clippings and dead bug infested mess. It lost its appeal. One day, our mother, driven to desperation by the heat and our constant whining, announced we were going to the lake.
A lake? Finally, something that sounded interesting. We packed up chips, green grapes, and sand toys, and off we went. Our legs still stuck to the vinyl seats, but now it didn’t seem as complaint-worthy. Plus, though they stung if you lifted them too quickly, they made farting noises if you lifted them slowly. Endlessly amusing.
“We’ll never get there,” we moaned eventually. Then suddenly we were at the top of a hill, and what could we see shimmering blue between the trees and mountains in the distance? Could it be?
“Look guys, there’s the lake,” my mom confirmed.
“Hooray,” we yelled, dragging out the vowels with heady excitement and enough volume that our mom yelled, “Enough!” (It would become our tradition to repeat those exact words, with feverish glee, every time we spotted the lake in the future.)
Walking the paved path to the graveled picnic area and coming upon the incredible, giant fairy tale trees and the glimmering expanse of water that looked golden in the afternoon sun made me, for the first time, think that maybe, just maybe, this living in Terrace idea could be okay.
We visited the lake almost every day for the rest of the summer. We’d work all morning (my mom could bribe us to do nearly anything with the promise of a lake trip), and by afternoon, it would be so hot that even she wouldn’t feel like working. Thus started a habit I’ve kept for over forty-five years: hit the lake as soon and as often as possible.
Now, when I sit on the rough bark of a natural tree bench that I’ve visited for years, squishing sand through my toes, my mind and my body remember my childhood.
In the water, I am forever eight. My feet delight in the soft-as-silk rippled sand under the water. I still alligator walk and do dolphin dives and continuous back rolls; I can’t help myself. I still know the disgusting but hilarious feeling of a handful of lake bottom on my back or head. A weed grabbing my ankle still makes me shriek, and the underwater whine of boat engines still creeps me out. I daydream about mermaids.
Staring up at the sky, I realize that visiting this spot is the most consistent thing in my life. The water has seen every bathing suit I’ve owned. Every person I’ve tried to be, or thought I was, has walked the beach. I was a child here and a dream-filled teen. This site has known my friends, boyfriends, and the husband I had for over thirty years. I’ve been pregnant on its sands and nursed my newborns in its huge trees’ shade. My children played here, and in a seeming blink, I would arrive on its shores and splash in the waves with my adult son and daughter and her husband.
And in between the magical, happiest of memories times, I mourned on its shores too: the passing of my parents, the death of my marriage, and myriad other smaller, though at the time not inconsequential, hurts and questions. How many tears Lakelse’s golden waters generously carried for me—and how much laughter ripples in her waves again, as I introduce my new love to her beauty, and he’s as taken with her as I am. As I dolphin about and alligator walk with grandkids now!
I swim far from shore as a regular form of meditation and appreciation, contemplating the mountains that frame the lake like the protective walls of a giant bowl, admiring all their various shades of hazy blue in the distance, feeling that some part of me will always and forever be both a mermaid child and a mermaid crone in these waters. And in the ever-changing waters of life.
The drive is shorter to me now that I’m an adult, my car has cloth seats that I don’t stick to, and often I’m alone, though equally often I’ll be meeting my kids and grans somewhere on the “right hand side,” and lovely Lee might be driving out after work. But when I get to that particular place on the hill, I still announce, “There’s the lake!” and my whole body feels it: Hooray! Yeah, this living in Terrace idea is a pretty good one after all.
– – – – – – – – – –
“Lake Days” originally ran in The Terrace Standard in July 2001, and because I liked it so much, I thought it was a lovely one to share once more, edited slightly to adjust for the passage of time—and my editor agreed. Thus, it was reprinted in The Standard on August 25, 2015.
In August 2020, I shared it again on my blog here at evbishop.com because Lakelse was still my favourite of favourite places, only made more special by how little it changed over time, while everything else in life seemed to morph at a crazy pace. Case in point, and beyond special, at that time I had two little grandsons to share my timeless beach with.
Today, August 30, 2025: With the passage (Wow!) of so much more time, and it still being such a special place to me, and having the addition of a precious granddaughter added to my grandsons, as well as a new life partner, I found myself needing to edit this piece again to reflect on and express gratitude for all Lakelse continues to be for me. I fully expect and hope to continue sharing my life with its sandy shores and soft waters, and suspect there will be edited versions and shares in the future.
I hope reading the latest version triggers fond memories of your own childhood. Enjoy these last long days of summer, everyone—and get thee to the lake! ~ Ev
It’s been a long time since I ran a summer reading challenge, so I was super excited when ideas for Summer of Stories jumped into my mind! I hope you’ll join in the fun.
You can take part completely on your own and email me your results at the end, or you can post your process on Facebook and tag me, or (my favourite option! 😁) consider joining The Cabin, my private reader group, and enjoy book lover chat, sharing the books you read for each prompt, and other fun things.
Summer of Stories will run June 21 – August 31, 2025. I’ve even created a printable checklist for you to keep track of your reads.
🌞 Ev Bishop’s Summer of Stories Reading Challenge 🌻
Grab your favorite bevvy, curl up in your comfiest reading chair or outdoor reading space, and enjoy every leisurely, sun-warmed minute of summer reading!
Add to the fun by chatting about progress at The Cabin or sharing about it on Facebook using #EvBishopSummerofStories
📚 How It Works
Choose books that match the prompts below.
Read in any order, at your own pace.
Optional: Share your progress at The Cabin or on Facebook using #EvBishopSummerofStories
🍓 Reading Prompts (1–20)
Visit River’s Sigh B & B Read or revisit any book in Ev Bishop’s River’s Sigh B & B series.
Second Chances and Fresh Starts A story about starting over or returning home.
Small-town Shenanigans Set in a cozy or quirky small town.
It’s a mystery! But it’s not a mystery what this prompt is. Read a mystery!
Women Supporting Women Female friendships or multi-generational bonds shine.
Heatwave Romance A steamy (or sweet!) romance that blooms in the summer.
Family Ties and Tangled Truths A story with family drama, long-held secrets, or emotional healing.
Ev’s Pick Read a stand-alone or novella by Ev Bishop that’s new to you.
Bookstore, Bakery, or B&B Bonus A cozy business is central to the plot.
Under the Stars Read a book entirely outdoors (all at one go or in sessions)
Step into the Second Chance Shop Read any book Ev Bishop’s Second Chance Shop series—where preloved treasures lead to new beginnings. (If you’ve already read Something Old and Something New, record them. They count!)
Christmas in July Dive into a holiday-themed read—or revisit Silver Bells at River’s Sigh B & B for midyear festive magic.
Loyal & True Read Loyal & True by Ev Bishop—a heartfelt story of healing and connection.
Animal Lovers Unite! A book where an animal of any kind plays a prominent role in the plot.
First Love, Lasting Love A romance about rekindled or long-enduring love.
Judge a book by its cover! Pick the prettiest book you see at your favorite place to buy or borrow books and enjoy it cover to cover.
Page-to-Plate A story that inspires you to cook or bake something delicious.
Heartbreak and Healing A book centered around grief, resilience, and emotional rebirth.
Book You’ve Been Meaning to Read Finally crack open that one you’ve been putting off!
Beach Buddy Read a book set near the lake or the ocean.
🎉 Bonus Fun
Create a summer-inspired bookmark or fridge magnet
Share your favorite quote from one of your reads
Make a recipe inspired by one of the books you read.
Post your reading nook or picnic reading spot
Achievement Tiers
Celebrate your reading with these fun rankings!
🥉 Bronze Tier – Story Sampler
Complete 5 prompts You’ve dipped your toes into summer reading and had some bookish adventures!
🥈 Silver Tier – Small-Town Explorer
Complete 10 prompts You’re soaking in the stories and scenery now! Friendships, romance, and second chances are blooming all around you.
🥇 Gold Tier – Reading Hero
Complete 15 or more prompts (including at least 1 Ev Bishop book) You’ve fully embraced the spirit of the challenge! Your heart’s been mended, your spirit recharged, and you’re practically a resident of River’s Sigh B & B.
🌟 Super Reader Bonus
Complete all 20 prompts + 2 bonus fun activities You’re the ultimate summer story adventurer! You’ve laughed, cried, cooked, connected, and lived through every cozy chapter.
🎉 Prizes: E-mail your results, tier, and mailing address to Ev at evbishop@evbishop.com before September 5, 2025, to receive fun book lover participation prizes, plus a chance to win two signed books by Ev Bishop of your choice!
When I came across this lovely saying in French recently, it wrapped around me like the comforting, encouraging, celebratory hug of a dear friend. Little by little, the bird makes his nest.
Ever full of dreams, plans, and schemes (and prone to being very hard on myself, something I’m working diligently to change!), rather than reflect on things I’ve accomplished, I’m someone who finds it easier to focus on everything I haven’t done yet but want to, the project that I haven’t tackled, the idea birthed but not yet brought to fruition. (And I’m one hundred percent sure I’m not alone in this. In fact, I’d go so far, dear reader, as to suggest it’s something you do too!)
Almost simultaneously with discovering that quote, I embarked on a new exciting quest: applying for a couple of Writers in Residence programs. A large part of the application process was creating a CV and a list of publishing credits. As I went through the task of recording each of my published novels, short stories, and poems, documenting awards and honours I’ve received, and summarizing workshops, presentations, panels, and readings I’ve created, led, or taken part in, I was a little . . . well, awed, actually. I have written a lot of things across genres and in many forms, and it was really exciting to see them all laid out in black and white. (It doesn’t diminish my goals and plans for future writing projects in any way, but it was very encouraging: I probably will get around to those dreams and schemes because look at all the things I’ve completed and explored before!)
Petit á petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.
It doesn’t just apply to creative goals or writing aspirations. I’m sometimes impatient about my yard and garden, but those types of activities can’t be rushed. Trees take time to mature and bear fruit, flowers only blossom in their season, and even when plants appear to be dormant, that is only appearance. Beneath the surface, life is just waiting for the right time to burst forth. And when I look back at rose bushes that were once newly planted sticks with just a leaf or two, proving they were alive, or at various masses of perennials that were each, once, just one solitary planting, I’m struck again: little by little. My latest lesson here is two new grape varieties, about which the man who sold them to me advised, “Don’t do anything to them for at least two years, and even better, three. Let them get really rooted and established before pruning.”
Relationships too. We can’t Abracadabra lifelong friendships into being. You build friendships, shared experience by shared experience, laugh by laugh, shared tear by tear.
I’ve tried—and failed—to see if there’s a part of life that the lovely saying doesn’t apply to. And if one of our nests literally or figuratively gets destroyed? Again, the bird (if it’s a robin, anyway!) is a good inspiration. Little by little, the resilient creatures build a new one—often with the same materials and methods if they weren’t the problem.
So that’s me these days, busily, happily enjoying my various nests, some of which I’ve mentioned, some of which I haven’t, all the while knowing that I’m still building and rebuilding. And may I ever be. And may you ever be, too.
My book club recently celebrated its one-year anniversary with a fun twist. Instead of having a book for February that we all read, we had a “book report” meeting. Everyone read a book of their choosing and then chatted about it with the rest of the group.
We were also encouraged to bring a little snack to share, with bonus points if it was somehow related to the book we were sharing. How we shared was entirely up to each person. The organizer encouraged us to “Feel free to keep it simple/casual and just tell us the synopsis of the book and what you thought of your book . . . or go all in and set up a poster board/wear a costume . . . anything goes!”
I chose Earth’s the Right Placefor Love by Elizabeth Berg, which I loved, but I decided to do my “report” on her collected works—so less a report and more a complete fan-girl happy blurt.
I went to my local library, the wonderful Terrace Public Library, and literally signed out every book they had of hers (less the ones that were already in the clutches of other patrons). Then, when it was my turn to share at book club, I set the books out and gave rave reviews of each of her present titles, plus a good few that weren’t there. One of the ones that was missing was A Year of Pleasures—and I was deeply sad about that because, as I explained to the group, it was the first novel I read by her, the one that kicked off a lifelong love for all of her books.
There is something about her characters and storylines that resonates with me in such a deep way that it almost feels holy. A regular theme of hers is the power of seemingly little or simple things and friendships to heal grief and bring meaning to life, etc. (I guess it makes sense that her exploration of such ideas clicks with me, as that’s something I like to explore in my stories too.) Her novels are easy to read, often great fun, and simultaneously beautifully written and profoundly insightful. I never fail to find her work infinitely comforting and encouraging.
Once, going through something complicated with my daughter, I was driving mindlessly, filled with confusion and sorrow, and a thought hit me: I need to read an Elizabeth Berg book. I went directly to the library and found, miracle of miracles, two books by her that I hadn’t yet read. One was Tapestry of Fortunes. It was precisely the balm and wisdom I needed.
Anyway, the book club meeting wrapped up (I felt I had successfully pulled at least a few readers into Elizabeth’s circle. Goal accomplished!), but I was still sad that A Year of Pleasures hadn’t been available for me to rave about in person. Since it was so heavy on my mind, I decided I needed it in my personal library, and I ordered a copy.
I rarely reread books because of the truth in the old (modern?) adage, “Too many books, too little time,” but there are a handful of special ones I revisit. I was nervous about rereading A Year of Pleasures, however, because I’ve also had it happen where I’ve picked up a book I remembered deeply loving only to find my tastes had changed or something about failed to re-light the original passion.
Just a few pages in, though, I let out a happy exhale of relief, and a warm, peaceful, ahhhh–feeling came over me. I was going to love the reread just as much, if not more, than my original read. And then I came across words on page 51 that made me stop reading. I could only stare at the page as recognition hit. “I would try to find joy despite the necessary work of grieving, and I knew full well that work was exactly the right word to describe it.”
When my thirty-plus year marriage ended, forever changing my family and altering my view of who I was, what my life was, and what I thought I had, I went through a grief so deep I couldn’t imagine ever wading through it. (And I’m sure all too many of you can relate—have experienced some seemingly insurmountable grief or pain. I’m sorry. It’s very hard.) Somehow, though, by Grace, God, the Universe . . . I intuited that the only way I’d survive and thrive in this new, unwelcome change was by practicing gratitude (something I’ve written about already) and by seeking out the little, wonderful things in life that just made me . . . happy. Gave me pleasure. I knew, especially at first, that it would take a lot of effort to find these bits of gratitude-inducing joy because the losses and changes I was experiencing threw a dark blanket over everything, but I was determined to not let my loss keep me from seeing or appreciating everything I was still blessed with. (So easy to say, so hard to do at times.) So, for months, I strove intentionally, every day, to do something, however small, just because it made me feel good, struck me as pretty, tasted or smelled delicious.
I resumed reading, continuing to be held rapt by the storyline—and with increasing awareness and something like awe, as every few pages or so, there was another paragraph or one-liner that resonated with me clearly and specifically as something I had done intentionally to help me through that it was like I’d somehow scribed her book in my psyche and was using her words as instructions.
I even started to practice yoga and found much comfort and help in it, especially in the various breathing exercises—something I didn’t remember her character having done!
Elizabeth Berg didn’t set out to create a guide for people going through tough times when she started A Year of Pleasures (or I don’t think that she did). She was just intent on telling a riveting, moving story of a recently widowed woman trying to make her way through grief and build a new life. And the novel really is “just” a wonderfully warm, joyful, tender, touching story—and yet it became something much more to me, obviously. Unbeknownst even to me, it was also a map. One that etched itself on my heart and became a guide when I needed it most. And that is the deep, mysterious, magical power of stories. They become part of us, a wisdom, a solace, a balm . . . possibly just for the time we sink into their pages, but quite possibly in ways far deeper than that.
As a reader, I’m so grateful to not just Elizabeth Berg but to all the other countless authors and poets whose characters, observations about life, insights, or even just beautiful, moving sentences have guided me in my life, shown me where to go next, given clues on how to pick my way through the valley of shadows, maneuver around obstacles, and revealed that there are places and countries—galaxies, even!—literally and metaphorically that in some seasons in life are nearly impossible to see on our own.
As a writer, I can’t honestly say I’ve ever set out to write a map, and yet, while my plots are all different, each of my characters is ultimately going through something hard and wondering if they’ll make it through. It’s only in writing this now that I realize I write for many of the same reasons that I read.
How about you, dear reader? Do you relate to that—the idea of stories being maps that help us maneuver our lives? Are there specific titles or authors who have helped you during hard times?
As some of you know, over the past 2 1/2 years, I have been on an unexpected and unwelcome journey: the break-up of my 30+ year marriage. Early into it, I somehow figured out (I believe it was God/the Universe guiding me) that leaning into gratitude for all I still had would be what would comfort me, would encourage me, would ultimately be what would help me through my deep, deep grief and bring me back to joy. I posted a sign in my home where I would see it every day that said: FOREVER THANKFUL. In the early months, I literally read it aloud multiple times daily.
I am very fortunate because I was always able to see, no matter how much pain I was in, that I had (and have!) endless things to be grateful for.
Fast forward to today. I am freshly back from another first of many recent firsts for me: an amazing solo trip to a yoga retreat in Chacala, Mexico, followed by three days of fun, sun, relaxation, and crazily delicious food in Puerto Vallarta.
The morning after my first yoga session of the retreat, I wrote the following lines (among many other observations!) in my trip journal:
Returning to my room, bare feet loving the varied texture of the smooth-rough-smooth-rougher mixed-stone path beneath me, misting up a little, I had to pause just to inhale deeply. Day 1 of actual retreat barely begun, and I am already overcome with feelings of wellness and joy and abundance and luxury and, most of all, GRATITUDE (which I wrote in all caps, complete with a heart dotting the “i” :D) that I am here in this place—
This physical place: so beautiful it almost defies imagination
This mental place: happy, increasingly confident that I am truly healing, being challenged and growing and learning
This spiritual place: accepting and peaceful, letting go, feeling deeply loved, loving deeply, being—AM—so grateful I’m giddy!
And throughout the week, gratitude came up as a constant theme. In my heart. Expressed by other participants. As a chorus repeated by the instructors. . . .
Then, on the final day of the retreat, one of the instructors finished her class with a short meditation and this beautiful, beautiful song: Grateful by Tony Moss. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qXVyK-8yTs
It’s hard to put into words how much hearing it when I did meant to me. Let’s just say it really resonated.
Coming home, I looked up the artist’s website and found this comment from him:
“In my years of working with people in the area of conflict resolution, depression, anxiety, and trauma, one thing I’ve learned is that often the answer to our modern worries and troubles is just gratitude – for what’s already been given. Gratitude is not an abstract concept: it is an energetic state, a practice, and a way of being in the world. A good friend once told me, “Often, the most potent prayer is, ‘Thank You.’” ~ T. Moss
The quote fits so well with things I’ve been learning in my personal life and applies so aptly to stuff I think about related to my other work that I was struck anew and in an even deeper way by the song, its message, and its power.
I don’t know if this song will speak to you or for you the way it did and does for me, but I wanted to share it in case it is a balm you need. I highly recommend listening to it with your eyes closed, breathing deeply and slowly.
Much love, dear friends and family. I am very grateful for you,
💕 Ev
P.S. On a not-related-to-Mexico or yoga note, but quite possibly related to a journey you’re on or want to be on in your creative life, I am so, so excited to share that I’m doing another writing workshop with yours truly and the fabulous Jane Young and Andrea Guldin – this time at the Kitimat Public Library Association!
And all this brings me to the question: What are you doing this Saturday (Mar. 9)? Joining us, I hope!
The inspiring day will include three mini-workshops and writing exercises, suitable for writers of every level or genre, so whether you’re an experienced writer or author, a total newbie, or someone in between who writes in spits and spurts and wants to become more disciplined in your practice, we hope you’ll come out! Call to register: (250) 632-8985
I hope this super quick update finds you doing well and happily bundled up in this surprising cold snap with reading and/or writing goals to keep you company.
I realize it’s super short notice, but it felt weird not to share it here in case you happen to live in the Terrace area (or close enough that a spontaneous jaunt is a possibility for you). If any of your hopes or intentions for 2024 (or just in general!) involved wanting to start writing, to get back to writing, or to write more (in any form or genre), this FREE full-day workshop is just the artist date you need to treat yourself to.
Register online here https://www.terracelibrary.ca/programs/workshop/ or by calling the Terrace Public Library at 250-638-8177. Here’s a brief breakdown of the day so you know what to expect. I hope to see you there! 😊
10:00: Kick off, including introductions
10:30 – 12:00: Ev Bishop. Write your heart. From non-fiction articles to poetry to short stories and epic novels, writing about the things you care about most deeply is the key to developing a satisfying, motivated writing practice and finishing pieces.
12:00 – 12:45: lunch
12:45 – 2:15: Jane Stevenson. Setting and location. Physical geography provides a map for our passions—and often our stories. Strengthen your fiction by connecting your readers to a strong sense of place.
2:30 – 4:00: Andrea Guldin. The Hero’s Journey. Incorporate internal motivation into your hero’s journey to create dynamic characters that challenge your protagonist and drive the plot forward.
