Elise Stephens's Blog

If you’ve read my two-part post about slowing down, the following announcement shouldn’t come as a surprise to you:

I’m going to slow down and consolidate the different places I’m writing.

I realized that I’ve stretched myself too thin by writing individual blog posts, newsletter articles, and Patreon updates, while also homeschooling, doing freelance work, and writing my own fiction.

I, of course, reached this realization in a very emotional epiphany that I wasn’t expecting. Tears were shed (of course they were). That’s my style.

The simplified solution: I’m going to keep posting updates and publishing news, but I’ll mainly do that in my Patreon community.

I would love you to come join me!

You can join and follow me on Patreon for free or, if you want to financially support me, there are options for that, too. Totally up to you! Whichever you choose, I’d really love to keep in touch!

I will continue to share my life and writing updates, it just won’t be as frequent here on this particular blog.

I really hope to see you over there! Let me know if you have any questions about connecting on Patreon. I’m happy to help!

All my best,

Elise

Last time, on the blog, I talked about my (very ingrained) habit of working hard and fast (and too much) and always staying busy. I’m continuing the thoughts here.

I have a lot of passions.

Last fall, I knew I wanted to work with and help the unhoused community in Seattle. I wanted to sing in an all women’s choir that a friend of mine was directing. I wanted to help my son navigate the mental health system so our whole family could better support him and the unique way his brain works. I wanted to support my husband in building an office/shed in our yard to get him a better space for his at-home workdays and free up a bedroom for when our kids stop sharing one.

But all those things together? Let’s just say the person I was at the end of Fall 2023 was not a version of myself that I want to repeat.

The cure for an over-loaded plate isn’t to just work harder.

That means I’ll have to let good opportunities pass me by if I’m going to be present and whole for the commitments that I know I cannot abandon. And that means…I will probably have to disappoint some people.

This may be what’s kept me overworked for so long. I am terrified of disappointing people. Of reneging on a commitment. Of saying yes and then (the shame!) of changing my mind and saying that I just can’t do what I thought I could do.

Of course, it’s better to just not say “yes” in the first place, if possible. Then there are fewer disappointments. A missed chance, perhaps, but also a choice that opens a wider space for my soul’s health and vitality.

Because I don’t thrive when I’m overworked, no matter how much I think I enjoy it.

I don’t remember where I heard it, but someone once said (maybe in church) that God’s voice is not a voice that rushes and urges and promises quick fixes. The voice of God is gentle – a still, small, voice – and it does not demand a lightning-fast response.

Growth is slow, like a flower sprouting from a little brown seed into a sturdy stalk with a breathtaking bloom as the finale.

It might even require me to wait (did I mention that impatience is something I’ve struggled with for my entire life?) in quiet darkness for a long time before I have any idea what my next steps should be.

I want to learn to go slow this year.

Or at least to learn how to wait and listen. To not make all my decisions out of impulse or from the fear that I’ll miss out on something good if I don’t say “yes.”

And I feel like I’ve cultivated the life habit of staying busy and productive to such a point that my body is addicted to the feeling. Most days, I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not making noticeable progress on whatever task there is to do.

I’m admittedly at the beginning of this journey.

I am praying that God will reshape my mind so that I can believe that I’m enough, that I’ve done enough, that I will come to acknowledge from deep down that I don’t have to be constantly in motion to be worthy and worthwhile.

I want to live this year learning how to find the pace of slow motion.

How about you?

P.S. I want to know what you like hearing from me. Will you take one minute and send me a single sentence listing what you like or would like to see on these blog posts? (Or just reply to this blog post in a comment.)

Check it off the list.

Finish the job.

That task will be hanging over my head until it’s completely done.

Any of those sound familiar?

There are two sides to every coin. On one side is laziness and lack of impetus to get started. On the other is an impulsive, burning drive that pushes me to keep chugging along, a fire that never quite goes out. Keep tidying the edges, always think a few steps ahead, keep improving, my eyes staying glued to the horizon even as it moves steadily away from me into the forever-distance.

In case it’s not obvious, I am the second half of that coin.

I tend toward a mindset of workaholism and burnout. What makes this more complicated is my high capacity for work and organization. My stamina and focus allow me to tackle a high volume of tasks and responsibilities.

The following is a pretty fair caption of my thoughts:

Did you bite off more than you could chew, Elise? Then you’ll just have to buckle down and work harder so you can get something off your plate. Once it’s done, you can breathe.

Pro tip: Working doggedly to finish something so that you can “earn” the space to rest is a recipe for ruining those so-called moments of rest. It’s not fair to label that quiet hour at the end of the night “rejuvenation” if I’m so fried I can’t have an adult conversation.

Since I have a birthday that almost perfectly coincides with the New Year, I’ve spent the past two years taking a long morning by myself at a spa to spend time in silent rest and reflection, taking the chance to “start fresh” alongside the new year.

Apparently, I have to go to a fancy place with heated pools and meditation rooms if I’m going to slow down long enough for my heart to try a different, slower rhythm. Then again, I think this is a pretty normal thing for many people, especially those who live with young children.

This year at the spa, I brought along a few books, as well as a journal and a guided planner. Because I can’t just lay around all morning, I have to use it productively! (Ha! Do you see it? This leopard can’t entirely change her spots!)

Becoming a mom was a harsh wake-up call for me, especially with my tendency to overcommit and overwork myself. I went through a deep depression and identity crisis (roughly ten years ago) when I discovered that it was all I could do to just care for the physical needs of my newborn son.

And now, with my two elementary-aged kids and their growing independence from me, that desperate cycle of night feedings and diapers or even of potty training and bedtime routines is a thing of the past. But I’ve also faced up to the very stark truth that I can’t do it all anymore.

I can’t just work harder to make up the deficit when I’m overloaded. So, if working harder isn’t the answer, then how will I healthily navigate this quandary?

I believe there’s hope for change for me, but it’s not going to be an answer that I’ll just rush into.

I think I’ll have to move toward it in slow motion. (More thoughts on this are forthcoming in a future post.)

For now, I wish you a slow and peaceful start to the second month of your new year. 🙂

Red and gold lantana blooms

Crab grass prickles bare feet

Avocado tree and hazy purple hills

–

Vista from the hot tub

Water warmed by parabolic mirror

One of many inventions

–

Ideas, plans, musings

Gadget bursting garage

Dreams half-formed, many yet to come

–

Fragrant cedar chips

Dancing branches of eucalyptus shadows

Strawberry haven for the grandkids

–

Cousins, aunties, siblings, clan

Catalina Island, saltwater shore

Sun-baked hikes, laughter and swimming

Funded by a quiet donor: You

–

Family and faith were worth it.

–

Triangles of metal

Form a dome against the sky

Sand play and make-believe

Golden days

–

Sacred, priceless life

Worth defending at high cost

Babies and children

Held your heart captive

–

Watermelon afternoons

Green-painted wooden steps

Secret door ringed with ivy leaves

Fountain circled by umbrella plants

–

Mandarin characters on water-logged pages

Glimpse the wonders of the world

That twinkling grin

Test your new vocabulary

On anyone who will listen

–

Wrinkled surgeon’s hands

Thick lenses on eyeglasses

Elaborate dinnertime prayers

A painting of bread and wine in a cup of gold

–

Flapping stripes of red and white

Stars sprinkle a field of blue

Proud and patriotic

Songs from your deepest heart

–

A soldier served, survived, strengthened

The war gave you back and you gave us

Your legacy of life

Family and healing

So many grandchildren to know and love

You didn’t waste what you had

–

Doctor’s skill and father’s heart

Scientist seeking a better way

To heal wounds on human flesh

–

Both body and soul

Hunger for healing

Grace and love are medicines, too

–

Stories of Jesus

The Lord was practical to you

Like ointment, stitches, or skin grafts

–

You danced on the ridge of sand dunes

Rode a waterslide cheering into a lake

Savored a sweet tooth for chocolate

Love for color and beauty

–

A burning need: Make the world better

And you did.

Grandpa, you did it.

In Memory of

William Dean Davies

1927-2023

Hello friends!

Many of you know that it’s awards nomination season in the SFF writing community and I’m so grateful for the chance to share two new stories with the world this year. Links to listen/read for free or purchase are included by clicking the story titles below.

Common Speech

A high-stakes drama of interspecies communication, family, grief, and overcoming, set inside a human colony located on an exoplanet with an environment that’s doing its best to eliminate human life. (This one appears on the Nebulas Recommend Reading list!)

Published by Escape Pod in February 2023.

***

Two-Tone

When a painter discovers a hidden message in a gift he’s delivering, he must use his knowledge of lumastration – infusing paints with emotions – to protect a secret and save a young life. (This is my fourth published story set in the lumastration universe.)

Published by Stupefying Stories in September 2023.

I’ve never been a “figure it out as I go” kind of person. I prefer to control and plan as much as possible. I want to know what I’m getting into. To know what the outline is. And if I don’t have some kind of a plan in place before the time arrives to jump into action, I will probably be panicked.

Okay, I’ll definitely be panicked.

Being self-employed means that I have to create and organize and sometimes even seek out the tasks that will comprise my schedule. It means I’m the one arranging that schedule, creating my own timelines, and managing most of my resources.

There are plenty of folks who hate this kind of time management and prefer to work for someone else so that they don’t have to deal with it as much—and understandably so!

A question I’ve been asked several times is—How do you decide what to do once you have the time and space to work? Does it take you a long time just to get into a mindset that’s ready to work?

It always takes me a bit to get “into the groove”. I might need to go through my email, check the status of pending projects, review my notes, etc. But that “warm up” period is made much easier to navigate if I’ve already decided what I want to do.

For example, if I know that my kids will be with their grandparents on a particular afternoon (as their primary caregiver and homeschool teacher, having the kids under someone else’s supervision is 100% necessary!) then I know I can plan on that time to work.

When both of my kids were really young, it was common for me to feel lost and bewildered when I finally got a few minutes to myself to write. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write or that I was lacking in ideas. I think my brain simply wasn’t primed. If I made a plan before the moment arrived, however, it made the whole process of “switching gears” became smoother and more fluid.

Again, not everyone gets as detail-obsessed about this as I do, and there’s nothing wrong with you if that’s the case! But if this is a tool that helps you at all (kind of like laying out your clothes for the following day on the evening before) I think using brain power to plan before Go-Time arrives is time very well spent.

Let me know if you like this idea OR let me know if you think I’m crazy. 😉

It was a Saturday afternoon. My friend and I wanted to go on a girl-date somewhere nice.

We went to an Italian cafe–a favorite of mine–ordered a bottle of wine and some snacks, and sat out in front of the cafe.

This cafe is also a coffee shop and a restaurant. To say that I love this place is an understatement. The very first time I sat in their garden patio I burst into tears, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of beauty surrounding me.

I’ve traveled to a few places in Europe and returned to the U.S. with the conviction that the European aesthetic for beauty is just stronger and classier, in general, than what we’ve got going over here.

But when I sat in this garden of a little Italian cafe, I felt the beauty that I had only known in Europe sweep over me. And I cried.

Fast forward years and years later–this is the place I try to come to once a week in the summer because it’s just so revitalizing to my spirit. I love the coffee and the pastries, but I especially love the beauty.

When I discovered the restaurant’s owner, Tom, had spent time in Germany, it didn’t surprise me. It felt right.

I’ve had several interactions with Tom over the years. In one, I interrupted his work meeting with an employee to tell him just how much I loved this place and how it brought joy to my heart to write here. Later, his employee told me that Tom had been having an awful day, but my comment had turned it around for him.

More than ten years after my first visit, I’m enjoying drinks and food with my friend. We’re sitting in the cafe side because the restaurant is opening and the staff are preparing the back garden for dinner guests.

Tom sees me and my friend sitting at the sidewalk table. We’re happily chatting and eating and enjoying ourselves. But he comes up and asks us why we’re not sitting in the back garden (a nicer environment).

A little flustered, I answer, “Because we’re not eating dinner. And we’ve already bought wine and food. I didn’t think we could take it back there.”

“And how often have you been coming here?” he asks.

I smile. “Years.”

“Exactly!”

Tom gets this funny look on his face. I think it was an expression of delight.

He sends for a tray and a napkin, then scoops up our items and escorts us like a proud maître d’ to a section of the garden that is not yet open to the public. So, basically, he’s opening it exclusively to us.

He beams as he lays out our food and wine, making us feel like royalty, like queens. Previously, my friend and I were two harried and tired mamas who were retreating for a few hours to laugh and talk.

Tom changed that. Because he loved doing stuff like that.

I have worked on the drafts of multiple novels in this cafe. I’ve received finalist news in a writing contest while sitting at one of the garden cafe tables. This place is tied to my writing career in an emotional and physical way. I’d planned to give Tom a copy of The Counter-Ward when it was published.

I found out recently that Tom passed away in May 2023. Died in his sleep.

His death came two weeks after my friend and I had been treated like royalty at his hand. It was the last time I saw him.

Tom wasn’t a perfect man. I’d overheard him being short-tempered with staff, I knew he could be difficult and demanding to work with. I also knew he loved to create spaces of rich, healing beauty and that he took great joy in serving others and making them feel special.

I’m writing this in Tom’s garden today, sitting a few feet from the spot where I first burst into grateful tears, so many years ago.

I cried again today as I told the barista that I’d only just heard about Tom’s passing. I can’t help feeling the tug of regret that didn’t get the chance to hand him my book, so much of which I wrote here, in this haven he designed.

The restaurant will remain open, its legacy carried on by Tom’s partner and I will continue writing here.

I can’t give Tom my writing as a thank you. But I was able to give him my words, my smile, and my laughter on that fateful afternoon in April when he made that evening with my friend so delightful. It will have to be enough, bittersweet as it is.

Tom, for what you gave to me and to so many others, thank you.

Thank you for bringing more beauty into this hurting, tired world.

I will miss you.

In Memory of Tom Bailiff – 1961-2023

This last July, four of my dear writer friends and I took time away from work and family to gather in Seattle to write and live together for five days.

When I was younger, this sort of thing was fairly easy for me to do (though I had less ability to earn and spend money than I do now), but now, in my present lifestage, time is such a precious, limited resource. Limited work vacation days, financial savings goals, loan repayments…

There are so many real, adult responsibilities that make time spent with others in the same physical location something that’s so rare and unique, it has to be a priority for everyone involved or it’s impossible to implement. The Tentacles are a group of people who live in locations spread across the United States from its East Coast to its West Coast.

Community, vulnerability, and authenticity are values that I prize highly. And all of these are pretty difficult to cultivate on a long-distance basis.

So we held our first writing retreat.

This writing group – The Tentacles – consists of five writers who all met for the first time in California during our week at the Writers of the Future workshop. Because the Writers of the Future contest is open to amateurs only, we met at very similar stages in our writing careers. All of us were, more or less, “just breaking in” to the industry.

The Tentacles have only gathered other time with all five of us in person, at a writing seminar in Colorado Springs. Again, it was a huge effort and financial sacrifice from everyone to make it happen. Each time we’ve gathered together, the effect is more than just hanging out. It’s intentional conversations.

Delving into new ideas. Venting frustrations that we can’t share elsewhere. Encouraging each other. Making resonant memories.

For this retreat–our third time all together–it took place in my hometown, Seattle. Thus, I helped to organize it and plan the itinerary. My parents graciously let us use their four-bedroom house. (This is a huge perk, for anyone else who might be thinking of planning their own retreat – see if someone you know is generous enough to lend you their home.)

I took my friends to a handful of coffee shops that I considered able to make excellent coffee, as I felt responsible for upholding the Seattle snobbery about this caffeinated beverage. 🙂

We made such a beautiful portrait of studious writers-at-work one morning that I caught an artist sketching us in the natural daylight of a coffee shop on Capitol Hill! (The following group photo is posed, of course, but this is where we were sitting when he began sketching us!)

We took a hike up Rattlesnake Ledge and saw a spectacular view.

We brought lunch to the beach and stuck our toes in the Puget Sound — which is still freezing even in the summer!

We visited several Seattle breweries and played word games.

We hosted our own karaoke party in my parents’ basement. It was wonderful, heartfelt, and hilarious, but I’ve been forbidden to post pictures or videos of that evening. 🙂

We had a backyard fire in my parents’ chiminea and shared stories about near-death experiences. We wrote poetry late at night with a rule that we were not allowed to delete any of our typos. We ate sushi. We drove around in a minivan.

We got to be family for a few days.

There’s a life and a richness that a community like this makes possible. For me, it adds color and rejuvenation to my work. It gives me something to look forward to when the daily grind or gray weather or school or parenting is wearing me down.

Retreats are a lot of work to host, plan, and organize. But this one has formed memories for the five of us that we get to keep forever.

Tentacles, I love you guys.

Friends, I’m pleased to introduce you to “Two-Tone,” a fantasy short story that hails from my lumastration universe. It is the fourth story from this world and, interestingly, the very first one I wrote about lumastration.

If you’ve read some of my other short stories in the world, you’ll recognize the characters of Estil and Nerr and a brief mention of Hallis.

I dreamed up the idea for “Two-Tone” while I was sitting at my kitchen table in my little townhouse, writing with a friend during the precious stolen time while my little son took his nap upstairs.

That same boy is 10 years old now. This story has been a long time coming into the world!

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, lumastration is the magical art of painting that infuses the paint with the artist’s emotions so that viewers of the artwork experience those same emotions. It can be used for great good or great evil. It can bear hidden messages. In all cases, it’s not a craft to be taken lightly.

“Two-Tone” is a story of heartbreak and secrets, of giving second chances and suffering on behalf of others. It’s about art as an act of service.

Stories from my lumastration universe that have been previously published include: “War Painting,” “Drowned Prison,” and (free to read) “Focal Point.”

“Two-Tone” appears alongside many other fine works in the pages of Stupefying Stories #25, edited by Bruce Bethke.

Click here to buy Stupefying Stories #25 on Amazon – Available in paperback and Kindle.

“Awkward”

Definition

a: lacking social grace and assurance

b: causing embarrassment

Most of us don’t like being awkward. Sometimes we’re just unaware of the awkwardness in a situation and sometimes we mistakenly perceive a situation to be more awkward than it really is.

Actually, I’m not sure *any* of us like being awkward.

We don’t like saying something that could make others embarrassed or upset, or at the very least, we don’t enjoy embarrassing ourselves.

But here’s the thing—there are a lot of awkward conversations that need to be had. Many of these uncomfortable topics, when broached, can save us from weeks, months, and years wasted on assumptions or misunderstanding.

Awkwardness is not a heinous crime. It’s just uncomfortable. And there are ways to bumble through it with a vestige of grace still clinging to you.

Let me give an example: I was at a large writers’ conference and a handful of my friends were using a group text thread to keep in touch. Late one night, one of my friends introduced someone new (we’ll call him Alex) to the thread. I said “hello” to Alex and went to sleep. However, the next morning, my friend said he had no memory of sending that intro text for Alex. Yes, there was drinking involved, but this led to some uncomfortable questions.

How had Alex gotten into our private text thread? Was Alex aggressively inserting himself into our social circle? And why impersonate my friend at all?

After chatting with my friends, I decided to just approach Alex. I’d spoken to him in person before this event and he’d seemed kind and well-meaning. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for this. As it turns out, there was.

Alex had been exchanging phone numbers with my friend , and my friend had handed Alex the phone with the group thread open. Confused, Alex had added himself to the thread and then sent a text from the phone, pretending to be my friend. He thought it would be funny.

The only issue was that my friend had no memory of the event the next morning, which left the rest of us were mildly disturbed.

But guess what? It was easily remedied. I took Alex aside for two minutes and explained our confusion. I gave him the benefit of a doubt. He was embarrassed, chagrined and–my favorite part–extremely grateful that I’d come to him with it. He went straight to the rest of my friends and apologized.

Later, at that same conference, Alex went out of his way to grab me a bagel and cream cheese when he heard that I’d have to miss dinner in order to attend an evening event. He *is* warm and kind and well-meaning, just as I’d originally thought.

For me, this exchange is a prime example of braving an awkward situation for the sake of clear communication. The social benefits of doing so outweigh the cons of a few anxious minutes spent in the conversation’s lead up.

So, there’s my two cents! Gird thyself with kindness and an open mind, then go forth and be awkward! If you think a misunderstanding or bad assumption might be brewing, stepping in humbly with a few awkward questions can really clear the air.

Okay, fine, I’ll go first: