Fall Me Out of Love

Today is Mother’s Day, and I hope my mother will like my latest song (listen below!). No one has heard this ditty yet, but I have anticipated the feedback (conjectured below), and it isn’t great.

You might think of “Silver Bracelet” as an imagining of the romance between Hamlet and Ophelia. If you look (not that) hard, Hamlet does not appear to be a very good boyfriend. “I did love you once,” he says, but in the next breath: “I never loved thee.” Then: “Get thee to a nunnery.” Also: “Thou shalt not escape calumny.” (Calumny just sounds bad, doesn’t it? It means slander.)

Apologies for the song’s somber-sounding final line (“I’ll wear this silver bracelet when I’m dead”), but Ophelia drowns in the end, after all. When she attempts to hang floral wreaths on a willow tree growing over a brook, the branch she is grasping breaks, and she falls into the water. As she sinks, she chants “snatches of old tunes,” perhaps one like this, about her rotten (in the state of Denmark) boyfriend.

Speaking of Shakespeare, in the last line of the third verse, I lifted the phrase “winged Cupid” from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A modern-day song probably shouldn’t require footnotes, but I want to explain another reference in that line. It is said, perhaps in classical mythology or perhaps by a random individual with a fertile imagination and Internet access, that Cupid has two arrows: a barbed, gold-tipped one to make people fall in love, and a blunted, silver-tipped one to make people fall out of love. This information will serve you as you listen to “Silver Bracelet” but probably never again.

I was attracted to the idea of writing a song about a silver bracelet for the perverse reason that nothing rhymes with silver. Or with bracelet, for that matter, but that didn’t stop me from providing off rhymes for it. (An off rhyme, or near rhyme, is a rhyme in which the words sound the same but do not rhyme perfectly. Example: “bracelet”/“chase it.”) Because I couldn’t rhyme anything with silver, I decided to repeat the word until it lost all meaning. In fact, it appears in every line of every verse, in the same position (beats 6 and 7), as well as in the chorus. (Let’s just say you won’t be wondering what this song is about!)

A sound effect appears in the recording of “Silver Bracelet,” and I am honor-bound to credit the source. Thank you, Zapsplat.com.

Silver Bracelet

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Title:
“Silver Bracelet”

Number:
8

Length:
3:05

Vibe/inspiration:
Dolly Parton

Key:
C major

What I imagine people might say:

“What’s with all the references to Shakespeare? Is it 1622?”
“This is her eighth song? Maybe she should have stopped at seven.”
“Cupid makes people fall in love, not out. Dumb.”
“Good Lord! If I never hear the word silver again, it will be too soon.”
“I have a silver bracelet, and this song has ruined it.”

NEW! What people have actually said, now that people have actually heard it:

“Very clever, fun.”
“Cool!”
“I love it!”
“Never been a fan of breakup songs, but this is a good one.”
“I loved it! I definitely heard the Dolly influence and think she would love it.”
“I played it in the car and it’s so catchy, I found myself happily singing along.”
“I LOVE THIS! (And there’s no such thing as too many Shakespeare references, IMHO.)”
“Bravo!! Brilliant all around.”
“This could be a Dolly Parton song for sure! I’m always so impressed by your clever lyrics!”
“I love the double-dubbing of your voice. Very effective. And I love the song.”
“OMG, OMG. Dolly, Shakespeare, fun, tristesse, all at once. More, more!” [I had to look up tristesse, and it’s the perfect word; it means “a state of melancholy sadness.”]
“Another great song!“
“You have a good country sound to your voice!”
“Got a lil Dolly happening here!”

Lyrics:

I used to think this silver bracelet meant that you were mine
The day you placed that silver chain on me I felt so fine
We kissed beneath a silver moon, away from all the crowd
I missed that every silver lining has to have a cloud

Silver bracelet
Why’d I chase it
Right into your hands?
Silver bracelet—
Try to face it—
Won’t become two bands
This silver bracelet won’t become two bands

I guess I thought this silver bracelet meant you’d be around
You’ve got me on a silver platter, but you can’t be found
I sit and fret each silver letter etching out my name
Unstrung by when your silver tongue is whispering the same (Ophelia)

Silver bracelet
Why’d I chase it
Right into your arms?
Silver bracelet—
Count the ways it
Hooks me with your charms
This silver bracelet hooks me with your charms

[Instrumental verse]

Silver bracelet
Why’d I chase it
Right into your hands?
Silver bracelet—
Try to face it—
Won’t become two bands
This silver bracelet won’t become two bands

And now I know this silver bracelet means that I am yours
You’ve thrown away the silver key that opens up the doors
Alone behind your silver bars, I call to one above:
Winged Cupid, with your silver arrow, fall me out of love!

Silver bracelet
Why’d I chase it
Right into your bed?
Silver bracelet—
Can’t erase it—
Wear it ’til I’m dead
This silver bracelet, wear it ’til I’m dead (oh-oh)
I’ll wear this silver bracelet when I’m dead

Gone When You Wore Baby Shoes

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Last June, I took an online songwriting course, and it changed my life forever! Just kidding—but didn’t that sound dramatic? Well, maybe it did change my life a little. Before the class, I had two songs floating around in my head. After the class, I had recordings of one of those songs, and two others, floating around on my computer. And I haven’t looked back! Again, just kidding.

One song to come out of that course was “Your Old Acoustic” (which you can listen to now! link below!). It was the final project, intended as a collaboration with somebody I knew. Following my inspiration rather than the letter of the assignment, I did an imaginary collaboration—with Michael Nesmith, undoubtedly the tallest member of the Monkees, perhaps aided by his wool cap. I was influenced by the country vibe of many of his tunes, particularly “Listen to the Band.”

Nesmith’s passing last December prompted me to refine the recording. Over the past week, I have redone the vocals and added acoustic guitar throughout. (Yep, that’s yours truly, plucking away on my Little Martin, pushing the bounds of my rudimentary skills.) Unfortunately, I wrote the song to suit Nesmith’s vocal range, not mine; but I have done my best. The comments from listeners, below, are based on the original version. (If you have any feedback, and I find it sufficiently flattering, I will add it to the list!)

Your Old Acoustic

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Title:
“Your Old Acoustic”

Number:
4

Length:
3:34

Vibe/inspiration:
Michael Nesmith

Key:
F major

What people are saying (SPOILERS):

“I LOVE this vibe! This is a song I would love to sing myself. I’m sure I’m going to have it in my head over the next days!”
“Love it! It made me cry! So beautiful.”
“Very nice! I did not cry, but…it was still pretty.” [updated version]
“Loved it! I especially like the end where you make it seem like it’s a recording in front of an audience. Very clever! I have ‘my son’ running through my head.”
“Fun song! I like the ‘live’ touches at the end.”
“Your collection of hits amazes me. Well done!” [updated version]

Lyrics:

You came the night all eyes were watching me—
A pretty boy footloose and fancy-free
Toes a-tapping to my song
Rows a-clapping right along
But you could find me only on TV

And I walk
But I cannot go
And I talk
Just so you will know

Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band
Bust out and make some music
With your old man
Gone when you wore baby shoes
And now I only play the blues
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band

A middle name was all you got from me
A pittance of a rich man’s legacy (legacy)
Thought I’d look you up one day
But I took too long to say
And you inherited a mystery

And I bring (yes, I bring)
All my loving, dear
And I sing (yes, I sing)
Just so you will hear

Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band (my son)
Bust out and make some music
With your old man (my son)
Didn’t try on daddy’s suits
I never saw you fill your boots
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band

[Instrumental verse]

And I walk (yes, I walk)
But I cannot go
And I talk (yes, I talk)
Just so you will know

Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band (my son) (come on)
Bust out and make some music
With your old man (my son) (all right)
Gone when you wore baby shoes
And now I only play the blues
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band

Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band (my son)
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band (my son)
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band (my son)
Dust off your old acoustic
And join the band

You’ve been lovely
Thank you

Business as Usual

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Last night, I saw Men at Work. No, this isn’t a journal entry from 1983. Yesterday evening, I attended my first concert since the pandemic began, right here in Santa Barbara, at the Lobero Theatre. (To clarify, the Lobero Theatre is where the concert took place, not where the pandemic began.) Tapping my toe to a group I enjoyed as a teenager was a festive way to spend the eve before Christmas Eve. Not all the musicians onstage were from the original, Melbourne-born band. In fact, only one: lead singer Colin Hay. Not all the musicians were even men! In fact, the “woman at work,” who played saxophone, flute, and keyboard, may have stolen the show.

Over the years, I have been fortunate to see a handful of my favorite musical artists, including Freedy Johnston, Marshall Crenshaw, and Michael Nesmith, at that selfsame theater. Perhaps the most unique act I witnessed there, however, was a one-man Hamlet, in which balloons were used to represent the various characters. (They were popped with a long pin when they died.)

Speaking of Michael Nesmith, the famous country-rocker died two weeks ago today, on December 10, 2021. Mike had been my favorite member of the Monkees, along with Davy, Micky, and Peter. Since his passing, I have been working on improvements to a song I wrote and recorded with him in mind. I am planning to add acoustic guitar (which I am currently practicing) and to redo the vocals (which no amount of practicing will help). I hope to be done by the first anniversary of Nez’s death, if not nine or ten months sooner.

A few days ago, I also completed the lyrics and melody for a new song. But when it comes to translating what’s in my head into a production that can be shared, I feel quite daunted. Last night, as Men at Work filled the Lobero with glorious sound, I tried to distill out each musician’s contribution. I listened for the plunk of the bass, for the higher-pitched tones of the lead guitar. What was each accomplishing? How did the drummer know when to add those flourishes that make the heart flutter? Why was the timing of that rousing sax solo so effective?

Sadly, I think I learned very little. There was just too much going on at once. All I know is that I want to spend the rest of my days writing piano solos for three hands.

Stay tuned for new and improved tunes in ’22!

Tap, Tap, Tap

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Well, this was unexpected. I was trying to write a song, and a poem came out. “The Raven and the Nightingale (Took Tea with Mary Shelley)” happened quickly, over the last two days. Mostly, I listened and wrote down what I heard. (And consulted an online rhyming dictionary a few times; RhymeZone is an amazing resource for not only rhymes but phrases and quotations.)

In the poem, the raven is an allusion to Edgar Allan Poe, and the nightingale is an allusion to John Keats—for the straightforward reason that Poe wrote the famous poem “The Raven” (1845), and Keats wrote the famous poem “Ode to a Nightingale” (1819). Born within fourteen years of each other, Poe, Keats, and Mary Shelley (who published the novel Frankenstein in 1818) were contemporaries—Poe in the United States, and Keats and Shelley in England and Italy (though Poe lived in and around London for five years as a boy).

Maybe I’ll try to turn the poem into a song. But for now…

The Raven and the Nightingale (Took Tea with Mary Shelley)

A bird of ebon crossed the sea
And met a songbird in a tree.
“’Tis bitter cold upon the heath—
Let’s find a roof to be beneath.”

They lit upon a windowsill,
Where nightingale began to trill.
“I have a better way, old chap,”
And raven showed him: tap, tap, tap.

“A raven! And a nightingale!
Come in and fill your belly.”

The raven and the nightingale
Took tea with Mary Shelley.

“You saved me from a fitful sleep.”
She sighed and let Darjeeling steep.
“I’ve been alone so long, you see,
It’s grand to have some company!”

The raven and the nightingale
Ate little cakes with jelly.

The raven and the nightingale
Took tea with Mary Shelley.

The raven quoth, “There goes the dark!
’Tis morn, the province of the lark.”
Said nightingale, “Since we are free,
Let’s go to where they make the tea!”

“Dear raven and dear nightingale,
Safe travels to New Delhi.”

The raven and the nightingale
Took tea with Mary Shelley.

No Diamond in the Rough

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“Cherry Pony Car” (listen below) has been bouncing around in my head for months, and I was finally able to finish it today! I granted an exclusive interview about the song—to myself. Warning: it got a bit contentious. Here are some excerpts:

On recording the vocals…
Q: What’s it like to record vocals when you can’t sing very well?
A: Wow. You don’t pull any punches.
Q: Well, I’ve heard everything you’ve ever recorded.
A: The worst part is listening back to the vocals on their own. It’s like looking at yourself in a dressing-room mirror.
Q: “Does this chorus make my butt look big?”
A: Exactly.
Q: Do you ever think about having your songs performed by an actual singer?
A: All the time.

On early feedback…
Q: What’s the early feedback on this one?
A: There isn’t any. I’m the only person who has ever heard it.
Q: I’ve heard it, too. Ad nauseam.
A: Of course. The dogs were also in the room when I recorded it. Sometimes on my lap.
Q: What did they think?
A: They would tune out after the first line of the first verse.
Q: Why is that?
A: That’s where they’re mentioned.
Q: So, the first person to click “play” in this post will be the first person to hear “Cherry Pony Car,” aside from its creator. Is that fair to say?
A: It’s fairer than most of the things you say.

On the title…
Q: So, what is a “pony car”?
A: I’m not entirely clear on that myself. It’s a classification of American car. I kind of love the inherent contradiction. Is it a small horse? Is it a motor vehicle? It’s like an oxymoron.
Q: Yes, moron. That makes sense. Does “cherry” mean the car is red?
A: Possibly. But “cherry” could also refer to the condition—like the car is in perfect shape.
Q: Is this a literal car? Or is it a metaphor for something else?
A: That’s up to the listener.
Q: Is that a copout?
A: Yes.

On the piano solo…
Q: Let’s talk about that piano solo in the middle of the track.
A: Sure. What would you like to know?
Q: You know.
A: Excuse me?
Q: The thing.
A: What thing?
Q: The thing you wanted people to know!
A: I just like seeing you squirm. I inadvertently wrote the piano solo for three hands. In other words, it could never be performed in real life, at least not by a single pianist. I thought I could remedy the situation by adding another piano. The first piano sounds like a grand piano being played on stage. The second is an old-timey, saloon-sounding piano.
Q: Did adding the second piano solve the problem of needing three hands to perform the solo?
A: No, it only compounded it. Now I’m short two hands instead of one.

On Adele…
Q: Are you concerned about “dropping” new music when the British superstar Adele is due to release her fourth album in a matter of weeks?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can you be so cavalier?
A: It’s easy to be cavalier when your blog has only a few dozen followers.

Cherry Pony Car

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Title:
“Cherry Pony Car”

Number:
6

Length:
3:12

Vibe/inspiration:
Nancy Sinatra, Johnny Cash

Key:
D minor

What dogs are saying:

“We loved our cameo in the first line of the first verse. We don’t know what happens after that.” —Sophie and Grace

Lyrics:

Cherry pony car
Arrived in sixty-five
Cherry pony car
Just going for a drive

I let the dogs out in the yard
One peaceful Sunday morn
I heard your V-8 breathing hard
As sure as I was born
You might as well have laid in on that horn

Cherry pony car
I swore you off before
Cherry pony car
Low rumble by my door

I pictured sitting in that coupe
Hands held across the seat
We’d listen to our favorite group
Heads bouncing to the beat
I dared to dream that life could be so sweet

Cherry pony car
Stop hiding your good side
Cherry pony car
Don’t take me for a ride

[Piano solo]

Cherry pony car
Arrived in sixty-five
Cherry pony car
Just going for a drive

You treat me cool and run me down
As if I’m not enough
I’ve been your fool, I’ve played the clown
It’s time to call your bluff
Cuz, babe, I ain’t no diamond in the rough

Cherry pony car
Too late to catch your plate
Cherry pony car
Keep rolling ’til you reach that Golden Gate

Keep rolling ’til you reach that Golden Gate

Still Pretty as a Flower

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You might wonder how I went from talking about writing a novel to actually writing and recording songs. I suppose it all began on November 12, 2019, when I paid $20 for a classical guitar in a marketplace in Mexico City. I felt very cool bringing my guitarrita home on the plane, slung over my shoulder in its soft case. I later determined the instrument was more diminutive than a half-size version of a standard guitar—essentially making it a toy.

I had purchased a small-body, steel-string acoustic a year earlier, taken three or four lessons, and quit. My hands were just too tiny. Or my pinkies too petite. Or my arms too long. But the nylon strings of my souvenir from south of the border were forgiving. The scale length was short. The frets were narrower, increasing my reach. I was on my way.

Cut to two months ago, when I enrolled in an online class for writing and producing songs: three of them, in thirty days. Today I am sharing my second submission, which was the second song I had ever written and the second I had ever produced. “Your Sister Rose and You” is a retro-sounding ditty about reincarnation, with a chorus referencing Shakespeare. (I know, so cliché.) The “reviews” below came from my peers in the class.

Your Sister Rose and You

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Title:
“Your Sister Rose and You”

Number:
2

Length:
3:24

Vibe/inspiration:
The Monkees

Key:
B-flat major

What people are saying:

“I really like the way you’ve made such an interesting recording. Has kind of vaudeville roots to it.”
“Dig it! Brass always gets me.”
“So clever! Well done. It’s really a pleasure to listen to this.”
“Your lyrics are great. I can see why you’re a writer! I love the vocal treatment. Very interesting. Fun to hear. And original as a whole approach.”
“Very cool vibe. Reminds me of songs from the end of the 20th century—that’s a compliment, as I love that genre!”

Lyrics:

I ran into your sister Rose
Still pretty as a flower
I’m well, and you? and so it goes
We spoke for half an hour

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(Feeding penguins at the zoo)
And you yourself would keep the key
(Pointing at a caribou)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too

I mentioned you were up the coast
And not too hard to find
She looked as if she’d seen a ghost
She almost lost her mind

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(Flying kites into the blue)
And you yourself would keep the key
(Playing Battleship and Clue)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too

We never lose the ones we love, and here’s the reason why:
They keep on coming round until there is no more goodbye

[Instrumental interlude]

He’s changed a lot since he’s been dead—
You’d take him for another
I’d know him in my heart, she said
I love him—he’s my brother

I told her I was wondering
If she remembered anything
Ah-ah-ah

She locked you in her memory
(On a train to Waterloo)
And you yourself would keep the key
(To the north of Katmandu)
It’s such a lovely place to be
Your sister Rose and you, ooh

Your sister Rose and you, ooh, too

I See Us in the End, Dear

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It’s alive! My blog is back, and it’s bigger and better than ever! Or smaller and worse; that’s the other possibility. In this reboot of the little-known blog that spawned a lesser-known book, I will be sharing songs I have written! Gone are the dreary musings on metaphors, semicolons, and New Yorker cartoons. Banished are the pretentious quotes from Shakespeare. (Oh, who are we kidding? I pilfer most of my lyrics from the Bard.) I never expected to be making music at this point in my life—and by golly, you’re going to hear about it!

For this first post of Novel-Gazing 2.0, I thought I would start slowly and dive right in. Directly below this paragraph, if my calculations are correct, you will find a link to a recording of the fifth song I have ever written. “See Us in the End” (for that is its name) is my attempt at an early 1960s album filler. Directly below the link, you will find a brief profile of the song. Spoiler alert: the profile includes some (completely unbiased) early reviews. Enough said. Enjoy! Or not. No pressure.

See Us in the End

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Title:
“See Us in the End”

Number:
5

Length:
2:34

Vibe/inspiration:
The Supremes

Key:
E-flat major

What people are saying:

“Love it! It’s the perfect song for the summer.”
“Big smile! Very catchy hook.”
“Fun! I bopped around in my chair.”
“Such a happy song. It will cheer up my day! LOVE, Mommy”
“Super cute!”
“Superlative pop ear candy!”

Lyrics:

And if I kiss you
I can’t miss you
I’m holding you the whole night through
But when you question
My intention
It makes me want to say to you
(About us two)

I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end)
I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end, ooh)
Our love will never end, dear

And as I wander
I grow fonder
I’m thrilled by everything you do
But when you query
Will we marry?
It makes me want to say to you
(About us two)

I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end)
I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end, ooh)
Our love will never end, dear

I will pray to have the end near
If you say this is the end here
I see us in the end, dear

And when I waken
Not forsaken
I have no cause for feeling blue
You want to know now
Where we go now
It makes me want to say to you
(About us two)

I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end)
I see us in the end, dear
(See us in the end, ooh)
Our love will never end, dear

Oh, I’m not cavalier
No, I’m not insincere
I see us in the end, dear

Oh, we won’t disappear
No, we will persevere
I see us in the end, dear

The road ahead is clear

Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter’s Day?

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It was too cold to take out my phone, so I lifted this photo from the Internet.

The sun sank as I walked along the south bank of the River Thames. All I could think of was the cold. The biting wind felt bone-chilling to this California girl. Then the hulking, timber-framed structure came into view: a polygonal building, approaching circular, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof. My eyes misted over. As I toured Shakespeare’s Globe, reconstructed close to the site of the original, I enjoyed no respite from the frigid conditions—it’s an open-air arena, after all.

The day before (chilly, rainy), I had seen Antony and Cleopatra at the National Theatre. Ralph Fiennes (stirring, mellifluous) played one of the titular roles. (I’ll let you guess which one.) The production spanned three-and-a-half hours, with one “interval,” and featured a live snake. Between this performance and my trip to the Globe, I reasoned I’d had enough Shakespeare for one week. I’m not sure I was right.

Shakespeare’s sonnets, illustrated

The (heated, indoor) exhibition at the Globe included artwork illustrating some of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Even before I knew I would be visiting London, I had decided to write a Shakespearean sonnet. That’s in the realm of things people decide to do, right? In a conversation with my husband, I discovered that maybe people, in general, are not as excited by archaic poetic forms as I am. The conversation ended with one of us calling the other a nerd.

Shakespeare’s sonnets are in the public domain, so I considered including one in this post. But my own effort appears below, so that would be like hanging the Mona Lisa next to a stick figure. (You can determine which is meant to be which.) Did you know the Shakespearean sonnet was developed by the Earl of Surrey in the 1500s, prior to the Bard’s birth? Shakespeare made the form famous, however, in his great sonnet sequence, printed in 1609.

I liked at least five things about writing a Shakespearean sonnet:

Its formal structure. I do well with limits.
Its meter. Sticking to the required iambic pentameter guarantees a nice rhythm.
Its rhyme scheme. ABAB CDCD EFEF GG is more forgiving than the Petrarchan pattern, which requires that two sets of four lines rhyme with each other.
Its length. As poems go, sonnets are relatively short. When you get to line 14, you’re done!
Its closing couplet. This pair of rhyming lines at the end provides an opportunity for great pith.

In an example of much ado about nothing, here is my attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet:

Perception and Vision

My mind was sick, and so my body. Blight
Surrounded me and bound me in a dim
And frightful prison. Blisses flickered bright
But did not stay to mitigate the grim.
Reality had I reversed and flipped,
Projecting war and vain imaginings—
A camera obscura in a crypt.
There is another way to look at things!
Beyond the body, seated in the mind,
Is endless light. It sheds the truth on all,
Unveiling sinlessness ever enshrined—
Shining away my fathomless cell wall.
With no more steps to take, a tick I wait,
Among the lilies thick outside your gate.

By the way, the Globe’s gift shop is the mother lode for anyone looking for a present for me.

Damsel, Wizard, Knight: Discovering Your Archetypes

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My recently published book appears to be a collection of blog posts but is actually a devious plot to expose people to the idea of archetypes. Determined to Be Visible reveals the twelve “psychological patterns” that govern my existence, inspiring my every thought and action. These mental motivators are derived from “historical roles in life” (to quote modern-day expert Caroline Myss). My unique combination of archetypes includes the Artist, Clown, Daydreamer, Student, and Teacher.

I know what you’re thinking: “How can I find out what my archetypes are?” What you should do is read Caroline Myss’s New York Times best seller Sacred Contracts. But since you’re (still somehow) reading this post, I’m happy to share my unofficial approach to determining the dozen spiritual energies that rule your life. Regardless of who you are, I already know four of them: Child, Prostitute, Saboteur, and Victim. (We all share these survival-related archetypes.) That leaves eight for you to identify, by following these steps.

Agree to see yourself honestly. Prepare to dig deep.
Review the accompanying list of archetypes. Yes, the one on the blue background there.
Try each archetype on for size. Does it fit? Does it fit a little? Keep in mind that archetypes may be lifelong forces, occupational identifiers, or other influences.
Think beyond the options presented here. For example, if you have always viewed yourself as a daredevil (or a philosopher or a counselor), consider that a possible archetype.
Make a list of the archetypes that fit well or fit a little. Now is not the time for editing.
Narrow down the list to the eight archetypes that fit best. Now is the time for editing. In the paring-down process, be wary of wishful thinking and of avoiding archetypes that seem negative. Some of us are martyrs, not mystics—and that’s okay! There are light and shadow aspects to every archetype.
Ask a few friends for feedback. Sometimes (and by “sometimes,” I mean most of the time), others can be more objective about us than we can.
Play with your final lineup until it feels right. Getting authentic with yourself, you might let go of an archetype that truly doesn’t suit you. Or upon reflection, you might bring back an archetype you eliminated earlier.

So, how did you do? Are you ready to embrace the wisdom of your Goddess, Hermit, or Vampire?

Feeling the Love

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I self-published Determined to Be Visible—containing thirty-six of my blog posts tenuously held together by new material—as an exercise. In fact, I continue to see it more as a project than a publication, typically referring to it as “the blog book” rather than by its title. When my creative coach, Ziva, gave me the assignment, she warned me that once the paperback was available, she would ask me to promote it to my acquaintances—which I also saw as an exercise. I never expected anyone to buy it.

My mother purchased six copies, to give to residents at her retirement community. (Imagine the kvelling involved in that scene.) My sister ordered three; I envision her juggling them, because I don’t know what else she would do with so many. My aunt and uncle bought one, the same number I did. Which leaves exactly thirty copies (to date) acquired by people who do not share DNA with me. Who are these individuals? Friends! Wonderful friends!

The most meaningful aspect of this whole endeavor has been the support of family and friends. It feels incredible! On top of knowing that Determined to Be Visible has been actively printed on demand by Amazon, I have enjoyed receiving texts and being tagged in social media posts containing images showing “the blog book” in homes, offices, and hands—even on faces! I invite you to peruse this selection.