Writing Out Loud
from Biloxi to Belize
Hello my friends,
A year ago this week, I was sitting with my father during the final days of his extraordinary 87 years on Earth. His passing was like the last breeze before you set sail, the one that unties the last rope, and releases you, finally, to the whims of the wind. Even now, there is joy inside my grief, hope inside my loss.
We’ve all had so many, many losses during this Era of Ten Plagues. It’s a hot mess out here, people.
But look at us. Millions of us, telling our stories and singing our songs, healing our heartaches and holding on. Look — there are scientists here in New Orleans planting Bald Cypress trees to protect us from the next storm. That’s real optimism right there. That’s a bold belief in the future of us. We are out here still creating, still raising hell, no matter what the weather (or the damn Supreme Court) does.
Even writing coach and author Becca Syme told me to write my next novel out loud and in public. I told her that sounded kinda scary. She said scary is good. (That’s not an affiliate link; I just think she’s amazing.)
Maybe it’s not enough. But I’m too old to live scared. And too young for despair. So yes, I will plant myself some trees. Catch some fragments of light through the murky bayous. Make some joyful noise (and a few cocktails). Sail into the sun.
And write out loud.
Here’s my latest adventure on the water: How’s YaMommaNem?
I’m cruising to Belize tonight with a couple of friends, and then on to Honduras. (I know — it’s August, it’s hurricane season in the Gulf. Since I moved to New Orleans, I’ve added every weather tracking alert known to humanity on my phone :-); we look clear for the next couple of weeks.)
Barring unforeseen adventures, I’ll be back in the Big Easy by Labor Day. Crossing my fingers there’ll be no evacuations this season.
As for you, my friends — be safe, be well and be bold, wherever you are.
Go make some joy.
— Kay
P.S. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the love you’ve shown to me and my adventure stories over the years :-). I’ve collected more than 40 of them (and added a few more) into Breakfast with Alligators and Other Tales of Traveling After 50. It’s a beachy kind of lazy Sunday read, I think, so I hope it gives you a chuckle or two.
