My Name was Supposed to be Elizabeth Ann

Here in my corner of Pennsylvania, the first half of April was rainy and cold, but the second half was beautiful. Sunny blue skies and (mostly) seasonal temperatures, perfect for digging in the dirt. Hubby and I weeded and trimmed and mulched, and then I turned my attention to spring cleaning my secret garden, so named because low-hanging pine branches used to hide its hillside entrance. 

At some point, I took a break from yard work and headed to the bookstore to spend my gift card stash on several titles whose April releases I’d been eagerly anticipating: Knife by Salman Rushdie, Table for Two by Amor Towles, The Backyard Bird Chronicles by Amy Tan, and Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent by Judi Dench.  I also wanted to buy a new journal for the upcoming StoryADay writing challenge, the fifth year I’ve participated. After considering each one on offer, I picked the perfect notebook for me: lined, small enough to tuck in my bag, with an appealing cover and a just-right thickness, weight, and number of pages. 

But when I arrived back home–after I’d already written on page one–I realized my perfect journal had been bound upside down. 

Ugh.

I tried not to think about it.

I thought about it all the time, each time I opened to the next blank page and couldn’t write a word. Receipt in hand, I returned it to the bookstore, explaining what had happened. How I just couldn’t, once I’d realized. The clerk smiled, and gave me my money back, which I then used to buy another journal just like the first one, except properly upside-up bound. (I checked!) The clerk smiled again, then handed me the imperfect copy. I could keep it, he told me. Use it for whatever. He’d have to throw it away otherwise.

So now I have two copies.

During the pandemic and those awful months of quarantine, my concentration suffered dreadfully. I, who once-upon-a-time simultaneously read multiple books in multiple genres, struggled to read anything longer than poetry, essays, and short stories. I abandoned more novels than I could make myself finish. I read only one thing at a time, one thing after another.

This year, however, I’m making up for lost words. I’ve read nearly forty books so far, and I’m striving to read 100 or more by year’s end. My five favorites so far: Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, After Annie by Anna Quindlen, The Book Of Lost Names by Kristin Harmel, James by Percival Everett, and The Postcard by Anne Berest. Each beautifully depicts flawed yet powerful characters shackled by pasts none of them created, each of them struggling mightily to break free and to forge better tomorrows–Whatever that means for each of them and whatever that could mean for their readers. I love that. I love books and characters who speak to me long after I’ve turned their final page, and each of those five definitely do. 

As I write this, I’m about halfway through The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois by Honoree Fanonne Jeffers, which has been on my TBR shelf (yes, I do have a designated shelf in my library) since 2021. I have to say, Songs is pretty intense. Unsettling. I considered, briefly, putting it aside, but Ailey and her ancestors hollered at me, DON’T YOU DARE. Clearly, they have something important to tell me. Clearly, I need to read through to the end to discover just what.

I’ll keep you posted.

Raking, weeding, and tidying my secret garden took about a day and five lawn and leaf bags. Everything else took about a week and three trips to the garden store. I’m still waiting for the table I ordered, and I’ll probably need more stone and topsoil and maybe a bird feeder. I don’t know.

Meanwhile, if you want to talk books or StoryADay, you know where to find me: 🌸

*****

What are you reading and writing this month? Anything you’d recommend I put on my TBR shelf?

Drop a comment below 🙂

Coming up on MY NAME WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ELIZABETH ANN —

I usually post the first Saturday of each month.

Next up in June: EYES ON MY OWN PAGE & ALL THINGS STORYADAY MAY

And in July: part four of my occasional series on BOOKS THAT MATTER AND THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE THEM, a profile of one of my reader-writer friends

Thanks for reading!