House of 49 Doors is here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, friends, for your prayers!

As with any vast project finally completed despite the odds, a recap might hearten us all amid our current — and coming — ventures.

January 2016:

Note to self: Another book? Never. Dodge — no, shun . . .

• that ego trap
• that marathon of minutiae
• that +10 score on the poet pain scale

July 2022:

The email pings: an editor I admire.

“Dear Laurie:
I would be pleased to review another manuscript.”

Oh dear. No matter our field of endeavor, whenever we risk nurturing a new “brainchild,” insecurities clamor. Who am I to try? Or, Too little, too late. Too old. Too costly. (Read, Get out while you can.)

“Send it on when you’re ready.”

Did I have a book’s-worth of poems in me? Not likely. I felt steamrolled by politics, aging, loved ones in crisis, shocking weather, the state of my floors . . .

I missed the good ole days.

Hang on . . . I could resurrect the quasi-magical house of my childhood. The one with the turquoise door. Coax out my kid-self.

Would she talk on the page?

July 2022 – January 2024:

She did. As if awaiting my summons.

I named her Kid Larkin.

Eldergirl, sixty years her senior, replied. At times, the two voices entwined, mutually probing memory’s alchemy.

If poetry seems alarming, be not dismayed. House of 49 Doors unfolds like a story. Or a memoir. (If it didn’t sound so daft, I’d call it a novel-ish poemoir.)

A lot of words did NOT make the cut. The ones that did bear witness to wonder . . . threaded within and around a trauma I’d hoped to never relive.

Which sounds grim. Revived delights abound. The house speaks, with a shapely, three-story voice. The backyard muskrat expounds on family life. A menacing garfish models self-esteem. Even a maligned vesper bat chimes in via echolocation.

Turns out they all knew things I needed to read . . . so I could heal.

Most of the poems locate themselves on the premises or in beloved rooms. Hence, my title:

My intrepid sister located the circa-1950s photo of our house, taken by our long-ago neighbor, Lester Smith. She also double-checked the door count with me. (Try this with a sibling! Decant the memories . . .) Enhanced by masterful artist, Shannon Carter, the cover beautifully captures the enigma of shadows and shelter.

To revisit three years in that wondrous house made me willing to look when Kid Larkin insisted on excavating a family secret: the story of my childhood hero, beloved Uncle Dunkel, an army vet whose inborn joie d’vivre valiantly resisted his post-war death wish . . .

Until it didn’t.

And I was told too much, then told to keep it secret.

Sixty years later, Eldergirl finally let herself feel emotions long-denied. Such are the cathartic gifts of time, distance, grace. Art.

Is this part of putting one’s house in order?

Friends, I have glimpsed God’s interventions as never before.

“New every morning,” Dreamer recently quipped, quoting Lamentations.

In my head, though, I heard Kid Larkin: Shazam! YOU are new every morning.

You. Me. Each of us an ever-glowing, work-in-promise.

Paul’s verb choice in Ephesians 5:18b can be translated, “Be ye, being filled with the Spirit.”

So how about Be ye, being . . . made new?

Amid devastation there moves an unforeseen grace: the Great Mystery at work — even among the skeletons in our closets.

Is there a “next endeavor” we’re resisting?

Dare we take on a project too big for us?

Years ago, Oliver Wendell Holmes warned, “Many people die with their music still in them.”

Some will do best within a controlled sphere: perhaps in the wings, at work, or privately, in transit, or at home. Some will go public. It’s costly to translate part of oneself into a separate entity, then send it forth. We face evaluation by strangers. No matter the venue, the creator’s heart . . . still breakable. The proffered work . . . un-take-back-able.

Risky.

BUT it’s (still) a new year. You are newly new.

Friends, how will you put your house in order?

February 28, 2024:

House of 49 Doors published Leap Day Eve. Which seems fitting.

It still makes me grin. And cry. It helped me heal. It might help others. That’s why I mention it. Should you wish to explore it further, there’s currently a 40% discount available only from my publisher. Here’s the link. Click BUY, Select your country, Click add coupon,” type in DOORS. https://wipfandstock.com/9798385208067/house-of-49-doors/

And here’s the link on Amazon.