We pick up where the email thread left off last week.

Sheila starts:

I wanted to respond to what Lisa said: “And I wanted to raise this idea about how writing has repercussions that go far beyond whether you are published or not,”

What we spend our days writing affects us in many ways. If we are doing work for hire, we are either getting training we can use when we turn to our own writing or we are burying ourselves in writing that doesn’t matter to us. I spend a lot of time interviewing people to help them write compelling personal statements for graduate school application essays and teaching them how to present their experience on the page. I don’t always care which MBA program is better than which others, but I do care about my clients, what they’ve experienced and how they can use their experience to achieve their goals and dreams. I enjoy helping them spin a story that has at its heart the human being who did this, did that, learned this, fell into opportunity, went with it, hit a wall, learned something, and now wants to fulfill an emotional need by succeeding — becoming a doctor because his mother died of cancer, starting an off-shore calling center in a poor area of India because he grew up there and escaped poverty, turning to nonprofit work because helping an orphanage is more exciting now as a mother than marketing for a high tech company.

The stories I’ve gleaned from interviews and helped people articulate have affected me — I feel more connected to the world and encouraged, too. I know people in their thirties from China, India, Eastern Europe and the US who are driven to succeed and help others succeed along with them. This feeling provides satisfaction, but it also gives me confidence in details, confidence that writing matters. Each of these clients and scores of others I’ve worked with know more about themselves now as a consequence of writing their personal statements, and I know more about what makes people tick and what makes me respond with interest to personal writing.

When I turn to the writing of those hoping to reach self-discovery without a deadline and a graduate school application to write for — those using writing as a tool to learn about themselves and to voice what they find out, to be present, to bear witness, and to publish if they can–I use what I’ve learned from those pressured to write their statements for the admissions committees’ judgment: pressure to get something you want can help you come to insight more quickly than longing to write well.

And so then I turn to my own writing, my desire to be real is stronger, and I find my sentences tighter. I want to be published — I want someone outside of my brain and being to say, yes, I recognize those feelings, I am enthralled by your experience because I can put myself into it and feel movement in my own being, I have learned from you what you have learned from writing about your life.

All my writing, whether I publish it or not, whether I am paid for it or not, changes the way I spend my days, who I talk to, and what we talk about. But writing published in whatever venue I can find (giving readings, my online magazine, anthologies, journals) affirms the worth of my desire; it affirms that people I haven’t seen can glean something from my words alone — without history with me, without me there with them.

I have a post card from a fan pinned to a bulletin board in my study. In block print, all caps, it says: I GOT YOUR BOOK KEEPING A JOURNAL YOU LOVE FOR A GIFT. I LOVE IT. I THINK YOU ARE BRILLIANT. THANK YOU.

For this one person to find me and affirm that how I spend my days has meaning for him took an agent, an editor, a publisher, a printer, a book production team, a marketing team and more. Oh, my. I think all of us need to find sources closer to home or more accessible to us for regularly publishing what is closest to our heart. I believe when we write what we care about and learn more about what we care about from writing about it, opportunities open up to us and we may very well find ourselves in an airport sitting next to a retired editor from Random House — that’s what happened to a friend of mine recently.

“You never know,” a favorite aunt of mine always said. You don’t. But you know the writing that thrills you to be writing. Use other kinds of writing as long as you can to learn something useful in the writing you are passionate to do.

Sheila

****

From Michelle:

Sheila,

Thanks for your inspiring message. You raise so many interesting points about how the work that pays our bills can reward us — and our writing — in so many ways. As I read it, I kept thinking about how the bulk of my work-for-hire jobs for high-tech clients only redeems me financially and as a resume-booster in the commercial freelancing world; there isn’t much of the actual work process that nurtures my soul in writing about software.

Also, this line of yours resonated so strongly with me:

“I think all of us need to find sources closer to home or more accessible to us for regularly publishing what is closest to our heart.”

A very good reminder that we don’t always need to reach for the Random Houses of the world.

Thanks again,

Michelle

****

From Alle:

Hi All,
Reading your responses, something clarified in my thinking: it is not so much that someone is a literary vs. commercial writer, or interested in doing books for hire vs. pursing Art-with-a-capital-A. What it comes down to is: do I want to make my money writing (implicit in this would be building the resume/platform of writer a publishing house would be interesting in promoting), or would I rather make my money doing something else (that I hopefully enjoy) while writing what interests me?

I thought I would be the former. I am a very logical person; I’m good at coming up with interesting story ideas, good at finding sources, good at selling myself to editors, good at hitting deadlines. I enjoyed the freelance journalism (and still do, when I get the chance, which is not often b/c I am out of the loop) as much as I enjoy writing fiction or essays. I did not enjoy the non-journalism writing: the corporate and non-profit newsletters and brochure, the (ak! The worst! and of course, best paid) copy they call “content” for commercial websites. Worst gig ever: copy for an on-line drugstore.

Ring, ring ring. “This is Alle Hall. I think I got the wrong product list. My list has Dexatrim.”

“Hmm, let me check my fifteen Excel spreadsheet. Nope, Hall, Dexatrim, that’s right. That’s you.”

“I’m writing for Health & Wellness.”

Confused pause.

“Dexatrim contains speed.”

“Shut up and write your copy.’

“Yes, sir. Which cheek?”

Even worse, it took the same amount of creative energy to pull of boring marketing copy as it did to write creatively. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. It was somewhat easier to come up with a 50-character description of cherry Chapstick that to evocatively describe the spiritual experience of miscarriage followed by a successful pregnancy and birth. But those corporate newsletters and industry articles took time and energy. If they were going out with my name attached, I wanted them to be good. Ultimately, I was a happier person working in marketing (particularly when I did marketing for a bookstore). I was able to be creative but not suck dry the specific bottle of whatever it is I popped when I sat down to do my work.

Alle

****

From Michelle:

Alle,

Your script about client work totally cracked me up! Thanks for making my day. I agree that it takes the same amount of creative energy to pull marketing drivel (aka, copy) out of one’s arse. I asked one of our mutual pals earlier this month how she approaches it, because I think she’s now writing/editing web copy 20-40 hours a week for business clients. She said she writes smarter (than I do, at least), recognizing that it doesn’t have to be of Great American Novel caliber to satisfy her clients and their intended audience. It just has to be clear and reasonably well-written. I find myself loaded up with a lot of client marketing writing this month and am trying to take the same approach, instead of pulling my hair out over each piece, and it IS working some. That said, my name is not going on these pieces. Still, I prefer editing/rewriting to writing for scratch when it comes to business writing. I find that so much less draining.

I guess none of this is directly on topic of book publishing, but I think how we earn our living is a very real issue for writers publishing in venues that don’t pay much, if at all. I still think being a receptionist would be the ideal gig. Leave your work at the office and all that. Only, who would pay my mortgage?! If someone can find me a $40K a year 3/4 time admin job that allows telecommuting (or at least flex time), I’m all over it!!!

Deciding that I was too old to play starving artist any more (it just doesn’t suit me; I LIKE going out to dinner and taking vacations) has definitely meant that creative writing cannot be something I do all week long. But for now, I’m satisfied with the 10+ hours a week I sneak in. It’s amazing how even 10 minutes of writing a day can enrich your life. When I was at that year-long software company contract recently, I didn’t write a lick of my own stuff for the first six months, and I felt a deep void eating away at me. I felt like I was dying from the inside out. I started getting up at 4 a.m. a couple days a week to write, and even though I was exhausted and just writing magazine articles and book proposals, I was so much more content.

Somehow I think this is all related to the conversation.

Michelle

****

[And it wasn’t long before the email thread got down to brass tacks (check the link for the derivation of the phrase–hopefully that will redeem my use of a cliché) – SB]

More from Michelle:

so… i’m starting to research my book, you know, the one due in what feels like five weeks, but is really due in nine months. and i’ve jettisoned some of my commercial writing work, am wrapping up some other client pieces, and hope to be working on my client projects not more than 20 hours a week for the next nine months — starting sometime next week. still, i’m nervous that what time is left may not be enough time to write a 60,000-word non-fiction book that requires a fair amount of research and interviews. at least it’s a topic that’s easy to grasp, though.

any suggestions on how to best structure my time? and keep my stamina when, three months down the line, i haven’t had a day off in three months or seen friends/family in almost as long?

my plan is to do 3-4 hours of book work in the mornings when i’m freshest and still untainted by client work (i often can start at 7 or 8 a.m.). then do my 4-5 hours of client work. then after dinner, another hour or two of interviews/research/planning what to write for next a.m. of course there will be walks with the dog and sanity breaks in there somewhere. but i’m the kind of writer who likes to write in concentrated chunks of time, say for 6-8 hours in one day, or an entire week with no other projects. so i’m nervous about this set up. i do plan to take fridays off client work (save for meetings i can’t get out of) and i’ll have the weekends to do book work uninterrupted, but, i dunno, i thought i’d ask your opinions.

also, how you like to write — long stretches, short bursts, late at night, early in the a.m., etc. — is an interesting topic to me. how do YOU like to write and when? i know what works for you won’t necessarily work for me, but i love to hear what people have to say about this.

hope everyone’s having a good week,

michelle

****

Sheila responded:

Hi Michelle,

My method of working may come from being a classroom teacher for so long, which meant I wrote on vacations from school. So, I still find that when I am writing a book, the best thing for me is long stretches. I like to clear several days in a row if that is possible or at least one long one a week where I don’t have to interrupt the work to deal with something else. That way I get a good handle on what I am up to and then later on, I can use shorter bursts of time available to keep working.

SB

****

Lisa replied:

Hi Michelle,

Congrats on getting started on the book. Very thrilling stuff. Your schedule sounds a little brutal, especially for 9 months. But that might be just the old lady in me talking. It’s the kind of thing I could sustain for a month or two, but not nine months.

As for multi-tasking, I’m like you. I like to focus on one thing at a time, and really get immersed in it. Right now, I’m writing two features with the same deadline — next week — and I do not like having to switch between them. I feel like I miss out on the random inspirations that come from thinking on the same subject without interruption. I’m also worried that I abandon working on one story at a tough spot, instead of pushing through. I also feel like have multiple big jobs screws with my momentum.

Any way, I have two thoughts. The first is a question really: Can you afford to do even less client work? If so, I would. The book is clearly the most important thing from a career perspective. You want it to be great. If you could scale back now in the first month or two, you can see how long it is or is not taking, and may discover you don’t have to drive yourself quite as hard as you thought. Second, just a reminder, don’t forget about the living part. It’s one thing to be ambitious, but try not to forget about balance and friends. You’re young and healthy — remember to spend it on good times.

As for writing time: I’m good for an hour to two hours at a stretch, tops. Then I need a break — a walk, a run, dishes, coffee (always coffee) — whatever. I’m best very early in the morning and again in the evening, although I do have to write at times that aren’t so productive. I try to use those periods for research, tracking down details, editing, etc.

OK, stop reading this email and get back to work.

Lisa

****

Michelle replied:

Hey Lisa,

Thanks for the boost. And the great suggestions. I agree with the brutal schedule warnings, and I’m somewhat in agony over these concerns myself, but it’s far less brutal than how my work life has been much of the past year, often sleeping 4-6 hours a night to freelance on top of day work, so I’m willing to see how it goes. 20 hours a week for clients might wind up being a luxury for me, though I’m sure it ultimately will be 20 hours too much. I guess what I’m weighing is that cutting back my hours any more means losing my health insurance and a few other perks and sliding into “just scraping by” territory. I’ve done it before, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I have this nice part-time gig set up with one client who will be my one and only, with benes, till summer, and I want to give them a shot. It’s a pretty new arrangement, so there’s no telling how it will go.

That said, the book IS the most important project to me and I don’t want to do a half-assed job, so if I need to jettison the cash cow/security job thing, I know I will. I’m pretty committed to projects till mid-Nov, but after that I can always walk. I’m pretty sure I’m going to take off at least two weeks in Dec to write, which will be bliss. And I know you’re right about remembering to play too. And not work myself till I’m useless (which is about where I’m at this week, trying to clear my plate of many small projects, so I can be down to the one client by next week). I have spent a lot of time this week agonizing over whether I should just drain the hard-earned savings account for the book, maybe pick up a couple Seattle Times or local mag articles related to the topic along the way, while I’m blissfully spending my entire week as a book author. That would be so cool — and best for the book! If only I hadn’t bought the house, then again, I’m glad I did. So, so glad. And I really wanted to do that before I did a book because I knew doing a book would make it very hard to save the $ I needed to buy a house, as doing a book pays diddly. Sooo…. guess I’m still straddling that practical financial world it took me so many years to actually join (I never went for that sort of thing; now I have a mortgage and an IRA) and now I’m having a hard time letting go. Have you guys experienced this? I’m guessing it’s different when there are two possible incomes in a household. Maybe it’s time my dog got to work, make himself useful, etc.

Anyway, I’m with you on the multi-tasking-is-hard-on-the-creative-mind thing. I feel like I can get so much more done on a writing project when I only have that to ponder while working, taking breaks, walking the mutt, etc. For this reason, I’m also entertaining thoughts of doing client work just on certain days of the week and devoting the others to the book. I have a friend who works her part-time job M-W-F and does her writing the other days (and still manages to get out nights and weekends from time to time). The structure seems to serve her well. And she did manage to write a book in six months on that schedule; yeah, she was a little nuts by the end, but she made it.

Thanks for letting me think aloud.

Yes, I love long stretches. When I was ghostwriting a book this spring, I took off “work” a week to flesh out the chapter outlines and had a blast. Nothing to do but WRITE. THE. BOOK.

I’m going to get me some caffeine now… And thanks, as always, for the input.
Sigh.

Michelle

****

Alle wrote:

Hi, all.

Sorry I didn’t respond to the last round of posts re: how you write. I have had very limited time to write, and I decided to walk the talk rather than writing about how to write.

I will try to catch up this weekend.

Alle

PS to Michelle — I never said MAZEL TOV on the book deal. I am so proud of you. YAY MICHELLE

****

Lisa emailed:

Alle,
Your priorities sound about right. (Someday I hope to read your stuff.) Sometimes when I’m writing about writing I get a sort of anxious rumble in my stomach. But for me, I think it has more to do with the “career” side of things, which has always made me uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, I’ve been ruminating about procrastination. I can’t imagine trying to write toward a deadline nine months in the future. I’d have to find a way to simulate deadline panic. In my world, I’ve been nibbling around the edges of two feature deadlines this week and last, and instead of writing and finishing ahead of schedule, ready to tackle the next project, I’ve managed to mow and rake my lawn, clean out three closets, hire a carpenter to install bookshelves, and read a bio of Washington. Now that the deadline is actually looming, I’m finally kicking myself in the pants and coping with the work-stoking fear that I can’t get it done on time and if I do, it will be crap. That’s familiar. I wonder is this the only way I can write. It also makes me wonder if I was wise to turn down work for November with a plan of doing some querying and working on a longer project for one month. Will I instead replace the insulation in the crawl space under the house?
Lisa

****

Michelle wrote:

Lisa!

Ha. I do the same thing. All the damn time! Which is why I need to be overly busy to get anything done. It’s weird. Sometimes I wonder if my procrastination has to do with this fear that what I write will suck, and then by not giving myself all the time in the world to ensure that it won’t suck, I have this out, this excuse: Well, I didn’t really have enough time to do a first-rate job. It’s certainly better than the fear of failure that used to cause me not to write at all in my twenties, but I’m pretty sure that for me (not saying this is you), that’s what the procrastination is partly about. That, and truth be told, I’m really a lazy girl.

Here’s another weird wrinkle: My recent year of onsite contract work actually helped relieve my procrastination problem some. By being too busy to write whenever I want, it helped me get that “I can’t wait to get me some time to write” feeling. And I do think it helped me eat away a bit, if only a bit, at my nasty habit of stalling… Right now though, I can’t wait to have a little more time in my schedule so I can use my lawn as a procrastination tool. It’s wall-to-wall leaves!!

And Alle, I need to get some more of your brand of discipline. I often use email as a procrastination tool, unless of course the deadline is two hours away. 😉 So, in the interest of getting crap done, I’m outta here…

Michelle

****

Alle emailed:

Hey,
I think you are on the money about procrastination, Michelle.

This past summer, I attended the Centrum Ft. Warden Writers’ Conference. I took Michael Collins’ workshop on the novel. For the first few days, he talked about what made him a working writer, as opposed to all the people he went to grad school with who never finished a book, or never published it if they did. Michael said he thought it came down to figuring out how you write, a system, then doing it. His whole thing was: finish that first draft. Once you have a frist draft, you can move to the next step. His thought was that a novel required a good stretch of four hours of writing every day.

WHO THE HELL HAS FOUR HOURS TO WRITE EVERY DAY?

Before I had a child, I worked a standard 40-hour week. One day of each weekend was devoted to me and my social life, and one day to my novel. Often, my writing “day” began on Friday, after dinner. I wrote all night, slept in, wrote in the afternoon, went out with friends, and on Sundays, did laundry, etc. I rarely experienced block. Similar to what Michelle was saying, if you know you have from here until February to finish something, you will do January 29th. If you know you have one day a week to write, and if you screw off with the day you don’t get to write for a whole ‘nother week, you write. Or you don’t become a writer. After four years of one Sunday a week, I had a draft

Then I had a child.

These days, I maybe get two hours twice a week. I do best when I put the time on the calendar, along with all the dr. appointments, social events, and other demands on my time. When writing time comes, I don’t allow myself to check e-mail, open a newspaper, or even think about paying bills. E-mails pile up. (Witness this week.)

One big mistake I make over and over is: I set it up so that I think, “Once that pile of stuff is field and the laundry folded and those phone calls made, I won’t have anything to distract me and I will be able to write and write and write.” I fold and file and … Oops, Zac is up from his nap; guess I won’t get to write.

AC

****

Michelle responded:

Insomniac chiming in…

Alle, yes, yes, what you are saying has been true for me too. The “I’ll do it after the laundry” syndrome usually leads to just 20 minutes (of what had been a wide-open 8-hour day to write) left for writing. And me kicking myself…

All this reminds me of the comments of a novelist I interviewed for a Bust article earlier this year, on women who juggle day gigs (and/or momhood) with creative careers/endeavors: This particular writer was an elementary school teacher who had discovered that her only productive writing time was before work. After work she was simply too drained from the kids and the other demands of her job. So she wrote from 5 to 7 a.m. before work five days a week, even though it meant going to be at 9 or 9:30 every night (my friends who teach do this anyway), cutting back drastically on social life, and getting the support/understanding of her husband. She said she worked her butt off and accomplished so much writing during those 10 hours a week, as much as when she took the following year off to finish writing her novel! When she had the day wide open during that year off, she managed to fritter a good deal of it away and wound up taking about the same amount of calendar time to write the same amount of pages. In fact, having struck a book deal, she didn’t even start work on finishing her novel until six months into the year off, knowing she had the whole year. I’m sure this would be me, too, knowing the way I work… But as Michael Collins said in Alle’s workshop, knowing how you work best is half the battle, eh?

Alle, thanks again for your rah-rah’s on the book deal thingie. We can open the champagne after I sign the contract. 😉

I love this conversation. Thanks for instigating, Sheila. And thanks for all your great commentary, everyone.

Michelle

****

Sheila wrote back:

Hi Everyone,
I’ve been tardy in writing — I’m so busy not procrastinating on life business I can’t read all my email! My to-do list is huge and ugly. But I know this — when I have reached my limit for not writing, then, come hell or high water — I actually write something. Often it is my husband who has to listen to the explosion that issues forth when my writing self has finally had it with not writing. One time, after re-reading a Charles Baudelaire poem called “At One O’clock in the Morning“, I wrote an instructional article suggesting people model some work after Baudelaire’s, and I did the exercise, too, deciding on the topic and title, “Tantruming at Last!” (which I included in the article).

I felt goooooooood afterward, at least for a few days.

I also have a different tactic — take ten minutes to write each day in an unlikely place — my car between errands, at a table outside a grocery store, places I am that I wouldn’t think of writing from. The work starts — and draws me back to it.

SB

****

Lisa also had a response to the need writer’s have to clear personal and emotional space to write and to examine their motivation:

Sheila,

Lately, I’ve been exchanging emails with writer-friends that consistently revolve around the need to say NO more often.

After reading back through these emails another aspect of writing come to mind: What motivates writers. I’ve had coffee with two writers this week. Folks I don’t know, who for some reason want to pick my brain. It’s part of the business. Sharing stories of how you got to where you are and advice-giving. I love how writers, at least in these parts, are generous with their ideas and contacts. But as I creep up on my 43rd birthday, next week, I don’t feel like I’m such a good example. Quite the opposite. I write for low-tier pubs and cobble together a salary by doing in-fill work for websites, etc. But that concern is about how I measure up. Even if I’m not writing a novel or the next cover story for Harpers, usually I work on stories that interest me. I’m challenged to improve. I generally feel positive about the work I submit. I don’t have a crappy boss. Am I rationalizing a mediocre career or isn’t writing truly just about getting words on the page?

I’m not sure why I write in the greater scheme of things. I stopped writing fiction because after the MFA and three years teaching creative writing I wasn’t sure I had anything to say as a fiction writer. What I usually say is, I write because I’m not good at (or at this point trained for) anything else. How do you guys answer this question? Do you think the answer bears on your “success”?

Best,

Lisa

****

Sheila responded:

Hello,

Whether I care to explain it to others or not, I do know the answer for me: no matter how frustrating finding time to write is, how difficult it is to shape words and how disappointing it can be when they don’t seem good enough, writing is something I have to do to feel like myself. I enjoy the seeking, the finding, the sound of my mind and heart in language, and I feel most like myself when I am involved in writing as a system of retrieval. Being able to value what is most important to me bears on my feeling of success. I once heard the poet Philip Levine on a panel. Someone asked him why he wrote. He said if he didn’t, he felt sick.

Sheila

****

With a sense of humor, Michelle tied the discussion back to the one about procrastinating:

Hi All,

Here’s a funny other-side-of-the-coin perspective. I was telling a friend about my to work or not to work while writing a book dilemma and she said, “Definitely keep the 20 hr a week gig. Otherwise, you know you’ll spend as much time procrastinating as you would have spent working.” That made me laugh. Knowing me, it’s probably true. I guess only time will tell. Anyway, I’ve calmed down about the whole thing. Whatever happens will be fine with me…

I think if you enjoy what you’re writing and you’re writing for the publications you want to be writing for, there’s no need to compare yourself with the careers of any other writers. And you say that you do always strive to write as well as you can, get bigger and better gigs, so who could ask for more?

That said, who doesn’t compare themselves to other writers?!!! I know I do, and so does every other writer I know; in fact, sometimes it’s the exact thing that keeps me going. Friend X got into an anthology by this publisher; I’ve got to do the same. Sick, sick, sick, I know. But honestly, my writer-buddy friendship with one writer pal in particular is often what keeps me, and her too, going on the toughest of weeks (when it seems like every editor you know is out to make mincemeat of your work, if they acknowledge it at all). As cheesy as it sounds, she’s totally my writing workout partner. The support far outweighs the envy, and we come out at least once a week with an “I hate you!” about each other’s successes. And as I said, the egging each other on is just added incentive to keep reaching for bigger and better. We also pass leads on editors and sources back and forth, which is endlessly helpful.

I’m sure someone could psychoanalyze the egotistic aspects of the type of writing ambition I’ve described above, but let’s just leave that to the therapists.

All that said, I’m often amazed when writers far more experienced than me, with killer clips, says something like, “How DID you get to write for magazine X? I wish I could do that.” Which just continues to prove to me that everyone’s comparing themselves to everyone else. I think it’s very human. And a little of it can’t hurt, as long as it doesn’t stifle your writing altogether (editor on your shoulder, that sort of thing). I think the healthy competition feeds the ambition/perseverance for some writers, which ultimately leads to more success.

I recently had to explain why I wrote at all in a workshop I was taking as research for the book. It became clear to me recently during my year of contracting misery. I didn’t write the first six months and missed it terribly. I had this ache from deep within, a soul loss sort of thing. (Sorry if this is making anyone groan.) When I started writing during the second six months of the contract, I was immediately happier. I was willing to do anything to write — not sleep, put off friends for weeks on end, give up lunch hours, sneak writing in while at “work.” I think we write because we have too; we’re miserable without it because as hard as it sometimes is, it’s something we’re wired to do. Sure we love the concept of publication. But we love the act of getting lost in crafting a piece for hours, days, however long it takes. Sometimes I feel like the geeky little girl in the basement making her elbow-macaroni-and-glitter-on-construction-paper art projects (yeah, I did a lot of that as a child). I just love to make stuff. And stories are the stuff I love to make, as dorky as it sounds. And I’m sure, in my case, a therapist could have a field day on the craving recognition portion of writing, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I have to pursue this type of work — though “work” hardly seems like the right word for it at times — or my life will be sadly lacking.

Michelle

****

Thank you Michelle, Lisa and Alle for your willingness to describe your thoughts, feelings, questions, insecurities, doubts and processes. It’s always helpful and enjoyable to hear the news from those taking the same journey.