It’s been awhile, I know. I was inundated with “spam,” for comments on my blog and it was driving me crazy! All it took was receiving one more “penis enlargement” mumbo jumbo and I was determined to get my blog back on track, sans a need to enlarge body parts I don’t even have.
I would have hesitated to mention body parts in my blog a year ago but that was before I read 50 Shades of Grey. Certainly, I enjoyed the read – primarily fast-paced, interesting plot, likable character, a little titillating (forgive the pun) but the writing was not the best. (Yet, I did read all three books in a series, quickly I might add, so I’m not sure how much it kept me away from turning those pages in earnest.)
I noticed that same old behavior reading that book as when I read Jennifer Weiner’s Good in Bed. (which had nothing to do with a cosmo-guide-to-learning how to be good in bed, I might add) I didn’t want people to see what I was reading so I’d hide the cover. I’d bend it backward if I was sitting in a lawn chair next to the pool (which, by the way, I’m not sure why they call them lawn chairs when they are next to a pool but that’s a whole other blog topic.)
I remember flying to San Diego with my “Grey” book and I made sure that I kept the book open, or close to my lap, careful not to expose that I was, indeed, reading the Enquirer of Women Over 40 getting off by reading soft porn stuff that made sadomasochism slightly enticing.
None the less, it inspired me. (not the sadomasochism, by the way) The title. It inspired me to think of 50 Shades of Grace. What a contrast, I know.
I’ve not been much of a woman who has always followed the rules but I haven’t been a crime trail blazer, either.
I sat with my “AP” (accountability partner) one afternoon in Starbucks and we both set goals that we’d finish a book within a year.
I had A Man is Not a Plan and Where’s My Mother Now That I Need Her? burning up my desktop folders for more than a year, dying to have its words pressed between the covers of two new (New York Times Bestseller) non-fiction books. But my dedication to finishing either project sat as dormant as the folders that appeared on my laptop as I dove straight into Facebook, not a glancing into either one for months.
No Writer’s Block because I’d actually have to attempt writing to have that. Just still. Nada. Nothing happened inside those folders as the creative thoughts would peak and dive daily, only in my brain but not through the pecking of any typing keys.
So, I was inspired by the many photographs I had taken in the past year, many posted on my daily addiction FB. Many with my iPhone, if you can believe that. With my new YOGA practice, occasional meditations, and my renewed interest in finally getting my body back to a decade post high-school shape (no, I am not so unrealistic that I’d shoot for the svelte 125 pounds I swore was five pounds too heavy while in high-school weight) I thought, why not put 50 photos of inspiration into a coffee table book and call it a day?
The thing about the photos I shoot (“shoot” sounded so much more professional than “take”) is that they do illicit grace.
The mere definition:
grace /grās/ Verb: Do honor or credit to (someone or something) by one’s presence.
Yeah, that’s what many of my photos accomplish. They honor the large existence of my creativity; nature. They honor people; my kids or other peoples’ kids. They give credit to the growth I’ve made that sitting in a red Adirondack chair next to a bustling creek is enough to quench an entire day’s search for adventure. And finding an infinity sign with the word “love” etched into one of my favorite beaches is surely serendipitous.
So world, my first coffee table book: 50 Shades of Grace, inspired by a similar title but very different. You won’t have to worry about who’s glancing over your shoulder.