Finding Inspiration

May is all about Inspiration here on HerKentucky. 

Last week, our writers posted about the mothers who'd inspired them and the many ways that Kentucky has inspired their own parenting decisions. As we planned the editorial calendar for the rest of the month, we talked about additional ways to spotlight the Kentucky women who've inspired us -- mothers and daughters, graduates and brides. It's a really well put-together plan; I'm quite proud of it. Speaking of which, did you see the awesome blog entry I wrote yesterday?

No, you sure didn't. Because I've, as my grandmother would say, run plum out of inspiration. I just have nothing to say. For a "word girl", as my editrix at Ace calls me, that's a bad situation indeed.  Recently, I've been working on a novel, a couple of freelance projects, and some essays. And, for the past few days, they've all been on hold. I just have nothing to say. I'm in serious need of inspiration.

I've been thinking a lot about inspiration lately. As a writer, I find that my work is intimately tied into my geographical surroundings. I write more about traditions and history when I'm in the mountains, and my work is ever-so-slightly lighter when I'm in the city. If I leave a piece incomplete in transit, I have trouble making the parts match tonally. As a writer, I'm obsessed with the implications of regionalism. It's not surprising that I count Mr Faulkner and Pat Conroy as literary heroes. Simply put, I think that "Place" is the key to most stories. (By the way, who wants to road trip to Nashville with me next week to go see that Chinese-American New Yorker who wrote a bluesy novel about the Mississippi Delta, which he's never seen? He's doing a Q&A at Parnassus, and I have so many questions for him.)

I take so much inspiration from the accents and customs around me and the landscape that frames them. Maybe I shouldn't try so hard to force inspiration; maybe it's just there. Maybe it's all around me if I just sit back and observe. Makes sense, right?

The other day, I stood in my mother's yard with my iPhone for several minutes, trying to capture the perfect photo of a butterfly in the lilac bush. It was patient, and so was I, and eventually the whole thing came together in a stunning fashion. 

But, you know, the other handful of pictures were pretty damned good as well. And, if the butterfly hadn't fully opened its wings, or if it had never turned to just the right angle, it still would have been a beautiful and perfect moment. I suppose I should look at inspiration the same way -- the perfect circumstances may never arise. The perfect inspiration likely isn't out there; maybe there are plenty "perfectly good enough" moments to kick me into gear. 

What about y'all? Where do you find your inspiration?

HerKentucky Welcomes Glenda McCoy!

HerKentucky is thrilled to welcome Glenda McCoy to our writing staff!

 I first met Glenda when we were both in school in Lexington. As you do these days, I "re-met" her via social media. Glenda is so smart and creative, and her love for Kentucky shines through in so many ways. I mean, she takes pictures like this:

Glenda is an Ashland native and an alumna of the University of Kentucky. She spends her days in Frankfort, making the world a better place at the Kentucky Commission on Women.  She and her husband live on a Clark County farm and have an adorable toddler daughter.

You Can Take the Girl Out Of Kentucky...

 HerKentucky is thrilled to welcome our newest contributor, my dear friend and college classmate Allie Townsend! Allie, a Henderson native and Transylvania alumna, lives in North Carolina with a houseful of boys -- her husband and college sweetheart Landy, their three amazing boys, and their sweet old dog. Allie gracefully juggles her roles as freelance writer and supermom while making sure her kids are wearing the right (Wildcat) shade of blue deep in the heart of ACC country. --HCW

Here I sit, a solid six years into my second stint in the heart of North Carolina. I am wondering, as I often do, whether I will ever feel that this place is home. I mean, shouldn’t I? I have spent nearly a fifth of my life here; I enjoy the mild weather and the mere glances I give to my heavy winter coat as it remains hanging in the closet; I love our close-knit neighborhood where we have made top-shelf friends; and should we ever move away, my first thought is that I cannot possibly bear to leave my gym. Shoot, y’all, I can arrive either at the beach or in the mountains within two hours. Despite all the benefits, the answer remains and always shall be: no, not really. Home, as they say, is where the heart is. And for us? Home is Kentucky.

Our family’s roots are firmly planted in western Kentucky, although we made our way all around the Commonwealth. I was born and raised in Henderson, my husband in Owensboro. Despite growing up only 30 minutes removed, we never crossed paths until I laid eyes on that sandy haired boy in Dr. Lyon’s Western Civ class at Transylvania University, way the heck back in 1993. There we learned that both my grandfather and Landy’s father were Middlesboro natives. We called Louisville home after graduation, and we bought our first house in St. Matthews when we were married in 1999. Two of our three boys were born at Baptist East in Louisville. Our little caboose baby will always be known as the only North Carolina native in the family, but he will have a heavy dose of Big Blue to help him learn that he is a Kentuckian at heart.

Speaking of Big Blue, we endeavor to raise Kentucky-loving kids right on Tobacco Road. We must contend with NC State, UNC, and Duke, all of which lie within a 45-minute drive from our home. Just kidding about Duke - nobody here likes them, either. I will have much to say about the tumult of living outside SEC country. Never did I think I would find myself commiserating with Gators or the Crimson Tide (The Pachyderms? I don't know.), but sure enough, here we are, acting as if nobody else is allowed to say a word against our sisters and brothers.

I might be the most chronically homesick girl you’ve ever known. Fortunately, there have been many occasions when Kentucky has reached out with a pat on the back and a, “There, there.” Last fall, as I was bustling between school and soccer practice, a truck stopped outside the house and a nice man came out to talk to us about our UK flag. Turns out? Our new friend, Scott Lay, knows half of the Phi Taus from my class at Transylvania. And now there he is, just living right behind us with his beautiful family! Our neighbor across the street? The super-sweet Emily Branscum Belanger, UK alumna from Somerset! A couple of doors down from them lives the family of former UK offensive lineman Kevin Disotelle. Just a few months ago, while attending a spa day to celebrate a friend’s birthday, I sat down with the one girl I didn’t yet know, the absolutely lovely Kari Kirby Shoaf, a proud UK graduate!

Oddly enough, the most comforting bit of home did not come from a Kentuckian at all. One of the first things I discovered about my neighbor and serious Tar Heel, Monica Kinton, was that her grandmother hailed from Hardin County. Of course, she didn’t tell me the county like you fine Kentuckians would, but she did say, “E-town,” so I knew she was legit. I practically swooned when she relayed to me that her grandmother pronounced “eggs” just like my own Hardin County born mother: “aigs.”  At that moment, I knew I would be just fine no matter my zip code.

After living here in beautiful North Carolina for so long, I could go on and on about all the things I really do love here. What I love most of all, though, is that Kentucky is everywhere, and thank goodness for that.

Can I Get a Y'all-alujah?

 HerKentucky is thrilled to welcome our newest contributor -- my friend and sorority sister Erin Smallwood Wathen. Erin is a London, KY native and an alumna of Transylvania University and Lexington Theological Seminary. Erin and her husband live in Arizona with their two small children and their dog named Van Halen. Erin is the Senior Pastor of Foothills Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in north Phoenix. Erin's  blog, Irreverin (Facebook her here) is featured as part of  the Progressive Christian Network on Patheos; her reflections on faith, family and pop culture always keep me entertained! -- HCW

I live in the midst of an amazing desert landscape. Trails from my backyard lead into the foothills of the Sonoran Mountains. Their silhouette defines the north horizon, and depending on season and time of day, they range in color from blue to brown to green, sometimes even pink. The giant saguaro cacti lift their hands in praise each morning. Most days of the year, the sky shimmers an aching, iridescent blue that your eyes can scarcely take in. It provides a backdrop for the twice daily hot air balloon shows that we enjoy from our patio. Meanwhile, the sacred smell of the scarce rain defies description. And don’t get me started on our rainbows.  Like God got a new set of magic markers and took up the spirit of a 3-year-old for the day. 

And the moon and stars that live over my house? I’m sorry, but they’re better than yours. They really are.

All this is true.  But y’all…some days I need some green grass so badly that I almost wish I played golf. (out here in PGA land, they somehow manage to find water enough for rainforest-like turf, even in the dead-ass middle of summer). Some days, I want to see fall color so badly that my family will pile in the car and drive two hours north. Some days, I want to order a biscuit and know that it did not come from the freezer. Some days, I need to say ‘y’all’ and not have it be a thing. You know?

Of course you know. You are Kentucky women. You know what it is to love a place and have it be a part of you. You might even know what it is to leave such a place. And if you know what it is to leave, then you also know what it means to take it with you.

There is, of course, much that I miss about my old Kentucky home. Beyond the biscuits and the four distinct seasons, I also miss a world in which people know (and care about) their neighbors. And I certainly miss life where people know what’s what about a certain spirit that comes from a barrel. True story: my husband and I were in a nice restaurant and we asked our server for the top shelf bourbon selection. And—I swear to God, ladies—he tried to offer us a ‘wonderful Crown Royal blend…’ (sigh). We had to learn him something about bourbon right then and there. But at least we tip well…

ANYway…I miss the place on the map where such things need not be explained. But what I’ve found in my wilderness wandering years is this: for all that I miss and even mourn about my homescape, most of what really matters is that which I’ve brought with me. And I don’t just mean an old Southern Living cook book and my grandmother’s end tables. I don’t even mean the ‘y’all’ that occasionally comes from my pulpit—unbidden and unplanned as though brought forth by the Holy Spirit. 

While my literal Kentucky accent has certainly rolled with me for this whole journey, what I really brought with me was a certain kind of voice. It is a voice that you can hear in my preaching, in my writing, and in my everyday encounters. It bears a ‘charm and disarm’ quality that allows me to say things preachers can’t always say (like, ‘yes, Jesus loves gay people. And in fact, if the church had more of them, we would have better decorations and better music—choreography, even!). It also tells the world that I’ve got just enough redneck lurking right beneath the surface, so perhaps you don’t want to mess with me.

It’s a voice that speaks the truth even when the truth is not pretty—and while I know many prophetic preachers and powerful parents who can speak the truth in love, my brand of gospel is uniquely Kentucky. It bears the tones of Wendell Berry and Loretta Lynn, echoes of Silas House and my own grandparents. And I’m pretty sure that, like Moses, I had to leave home and head out to the wilderness in order to really hear it. 

On my frequent sojourns in the desert, I take in the stark beauty of this landscape. For all its barrenness, it is a stunning and deeply spiritual place. But in my heart of hearts, I know that I brought that wilderness voice with me. It keeps me rooted for the roaming, and calls me to speak, to preach, to write the world’s truth, as it was and is to come. It is a gospel that both moves and shapes me; it grounds me and keeps me moving, all at the same time. And you’d better believe, that good news is for not just some of us, but for y’all.

HerKentucky 2013

I've never been one for New Year's Resolutions. 

They seem so arbitrary and artificial and destined to fail. Or maybe I'm just never too committed to them. So, when the HerKentucky team decided to post 2013 Resolutions, I knew better. This year, I may complete the entire Craft Bourbon Trail, but I probably won't.

Resolutions may not be my thing, but goals sure are. One of my biggest goals for 2013 is to make HerKentucky bigger and better than ever. I want this site to celebrate the lives and stories of Kentucky women in new and exciting ways. I want HerKentucky to explore more recipes, more crafts, more entertaining ideas and more local products. I want to tell the stories of more Kentucky women. I want this site to make our readers smile and hopefully teach y'all a little something from time to time. I'm excited that HerKentucky has partnered with The Southern Blog Society, and I look forward to exploring new ways to get the HerKentucky story out there.

As always, if you have a story to tell or an idea to share, HerKentucky would love to hear from you. Just shoot me an email at heather@herkentucky.com.

Cheers!

HCW

NaNoWriMo

November means a lot of things.

Basketball season begins. Football season gets interesting. The world is divided into those folks who decorate for the holidays before Thanksgiving, and those who don't.

For some reason, November's internet brings a plethora of memes. For the guys, there's No-Shave November and its weak cousin Movember. For the Facebook crowd, there's Thirty Days of Thankful. And, for the writers among us, there's NaNoWriMo.

National Novel Writing Month, despite it's horrid acronym, is a writing project that operates under a very simple idea. You have thirty days to write a book. Don't take forever, don't overthink it. Get it done. Get out of your head and write. 

The HerKentucky writing team were all over the place when asked if they were participating this year.  Megan W just finished a round of revisions on her existing book and is, as my granny would say, "wore plum out" with writing. Sarah's undertaking a November challenge of her own -- she's slowing down, taking control of her days, and "Saying No in November." Lydia is knee-deep in big life changes. So, in short, a lot of us just don't have time right now.

Emily and I are both writing in November. Emily tells me she's a "NaNoWriMo rebel", as she's writing non-fiction rather than a true novel. I have a good outline from the idea I developed while attending the Southern Festival of Books; I don't know if it'll take off into a full-size novel by December 1, but I'm certainly giving it a try!

What about y'all? Anybody else doing NaNoWriMo? Or No-Shave November? Or some awesome November meme I don't even know about?

HerKentucky Welcomes Megan Whitmer

HerKentucky is thrilled to welcome Megan Whitmer as our newest writer!

Megan a Lancaster, KY native who lives in Lexington with her husband and two young daughters, is an aspiring YA Fantasy Fiction author.  Y'all may remember Megan from the great guest post she wrote about her quest to publish her first novel.

We're so excited to hear what Megan has to say!