Author Archives: Janna
There is so much to consider when composing a last post. Should one go out with a bang (and what, exactly, qualifies as a bang?), or is it better to more quietly recede? Is there anything left to say, something you mustn’t forget, or has it all been shared before?
I’m not part of the original WU crew, but was so happy to have been invited by charter member and stellar, going-somewhere author Sharla Lovelace a few years back. (Visit her HERE or HERE, or Google her, she’s everywhere.) This was during a time when my personal life was in upheaval, and so the inclusion was just the creative lift I needed, an outlet fueled by more than only me, and since then the ladies have become forever “writer buddies” I’m proud to associate with.
We’ve all been through a lot, in life and career, positive and not, it’s clear when looking over our archives. I myself have transformed during the scope of my Unpluggedness. I came on newly divorced and have, in the years spanning my contribution, locked in what it means to be a single mom, healed and established myself in both my heart and my mind after a long-term and abusive marriage, surprised myself, pursued a new career and made it through the transition, dated, cried buckets of tears, learned what it means to be an independent adult, moved twice, rejoiced, stood my ground, messed up, shared and written and felt all of the feelings, and so much more. I appreciate any and all who were along for the ride. It’s been quite a journey—one that’s not done yet, I am happy to know—and I’m grateful the Women Unplugged blog was part of it.
From here forward, you can find me through my personal blog Woman, Determined, at Twitter, and on Facebook. I spend the most time at Facebook, where my goal is to share content as both a writer and a student of life.
These days I am making headway on my novel-in-progress, the one I worked for NANO 2014 and laid aside last spring for that career (day job) change I mentioned above. I recently picked it up again, and I’m working on it daily. I’ve also carved a niche for myself creating custom resumes for folks, from new graduates and baby boomers to blue collar workers and corporate title holders. If you’d like more information about that, shoot me a message through any of the media I’ve listed. I’d love to help you out.
Whether or not we should cross paths again, thanks for being part of Women Unplugged, and part of my life. I wish you all the best in everything.
A friend shared this video short on Facebook a couple days ago, and though its story isn’t specific to a holiday, the full-of-feeling message is perfect and poignant this time of year.
If you’re a softie, grab a tissue.
Whatever and however you celebrate, may your days be merry and your nights filled with peace.
May you never forget the important things.
I would keep a lighthouse.
Don’t really know a lot about them, about what it takes to keep one, to do the job. I’ve lived my whole life in the precise middle of the United States, unaffected by their charm. They’re a coastal thing, lighthouses.
I do understand they’re mostly a thing of the past. Many have fallen into disrepair, not just because of neglected and expensive maintenance needs, but also the advancements at sea that have rendered the use of them less necessary. But find one for me anyway, somewhere—my soul has always been drawn to Maine—with a small vintagey cottage at its trunk. That’s where I’d live, contendedly.
I would operate the beacon of light, I would do my best to navigate others safely. That would come first, at odd hours in the dark I would do my duty proudly. I would do the necessary bits to maintain it all, bringing in help when required, that’s how I would build my circle of acquaintances. And when no light was needed, if everything was in order and I could let it be, I would hunker down into my quiet cottage and write. Just give me WiFi and a stout coffeemaker. Novels and pens and journals. Easy snacks and an open mind, warm quilts and a faded, well-worn decor. I would be supremely inspired — and at peace — in a place like that.
It would be the best of two worlds: work that mattered, paying enough to exist, and living a simple, creative life.
I would keep a lighthouse.
This post originally appeared January 7th of this year on my blog Woman, Determined.