All posts by Heather

Heather McLeod is a writer, editor, widow and solo parent who loves adventures. She writes traditional literary mysteries and creative non-fiction / personal essays. Heather and her son live in British Columbia, Canada.

Buying Stock in Myself

This morning I discovered (thanks to The Facebook) an upcoming writers’ retreat, chockablock full of writing seminars and one-on-one coaching opportunities. I’ve heard of many similar retreats, but this one sounded RIGHT to me, for a few different reasons.

It’s silly for me to go to Ontario in May for a writers’ retreat. It’s expensive, logistically complicated travel-wise, and there’s the whole matter of what to do with Isaac for a week. Also, my dad (a retired contractor and journeyman carpenter — a good guy to have in your corner) is helping me build a house this year, and May will be a busy time house-building-wise.

BUT.

I really want to go.

I faced that same internal dilemma so many of us feel, when we WANT to do something, we LONG to do something because it’s a step toward OUR DESTINY, or at least that dream we’ve always longed to fulfill. But for some responsible/imagined reason, we think: “no, I shouldn’t do that.”

You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you’ve experienced this. The wannabe traveller sees an ad for Italy or Peru and stares at it for an extra second, before moving on with life. The person who dreams of farming drives slowly past the For Sale sign on that perfect plot of land. You see a job posting for a dream job, which would require some extra effort, like relocating or asking colleagues for references. And so you don’t make that leap (as John would say).

But I’m going to this writers’ retreat, dammit, and here is why, via a roundabout explanation:

I’ve been learning a lot about financial investments lately, starting with the money management book Brock recommended: The Smart Canadian Wealth-Builder, by Peter Dolezal. I’ve enjoyed reading this book, which is surprising since money management has always bored and intimidated me. I find it so helpful that I want to make my own “Coles’ notes” powerpoint of the book’s main points and share it with family and friends. (Stay tuned for that exciting, multi-media feature!)

Anyhoo, one section of the book is about debt. There are good debts (worth taking on) and bad debts (to avoid, as much as possible). Good debts are:

  1. a mortgage (i.e. investing in homeownership/real estate), and
  2. education (i.e. investing in yourself).

One of Brock’s many random inventions was that we should be able to “buy stock” in people who we thought would achieve something Great in their lifetimes. We actually did this in small ways, like contributing to political campaigns and giving books and equipment to new farmers. But here’s a wacky idea: I can “buy stock” in my own potential greatness, by investing in writing retreats, subscribing to One Stop for Writers, and paying the (US$) sign up fee for the annual NYC Midnight writing challenge.

By committing to my writing aspirations, with my energy, time and money, those dreams are more likely to come true. Even if I had to go into debt to do it, investing in myself would be a “good debt.”

The Best Gift Brock Gave Me

No, it wasn’t that awesome money management book (although it is so helpful). It was that I 100% know Brock would support me going to this retreat, or doing whatever I think helpful on my path to becoming a good writer. When I face that same internal dilemma we all have when opportunities arise, all I have to do is think “What would Brock say?” and I know I’m buying that airline ticket.

This was the best gift we gave each other: not only supporting each other’s dreams, but arguing for the pursuit of them. In spring 2016, when Brock listed all the reasons he shouldn’t go to that amazing philosophers’ conference in Ottawa that coming weekend, it was my job and my pleasure to list all the reasons why we should go, to dismiss the financial challenges and line up Isaac-care. I know Brock would do the same for me — he did the same for me, when he was still alive.

I don’t need Brock’s blessing, or that of anyone else, but it makes me happy to know he would be cheering me on. And sometimes that little extra encouragement is enough to make me leap.

Me and Brock at the 2016 Civitas conference in Ottawa, Ontario.

In Defence of New Years’ Resolutions

In August, when Brock was very weak and dependent on an oxygen tank, I went for a run around the neighbourhood.

I’m not a “runner” and therefore this was miraculous. But I was getting rather cabin-fevery, being home all the time, and I needed the fresh air and exercise.

Within a block, I realized (my lungs burning) that I was doing something that Brock — once a track and field star — was no longer able to do. He couldn’t run, and he would never be able to run again. I had a little epiphany about how symbolically powerful the annual Terry Fox Run is, ditto the Run for the Cure: people are running, are being healthy and physically able, in defiance of cancer. Take that, cancer: see what we can do. This thought fuelled me to run almost the whole distance, which I never thought possible given how out of shape I am.

Also

Today, I inherited an incredible collection of spinning and weaving equipment and materials from a family friend. It had belonged to his wife, who passed away this year. She was too young to die: she did not deserve to die. I went through the collection today, and fell in love with her. I never met Val, but she was obviously someone with a strong aesthetic sense: she had gorgeous wooden spindles, and the softest wool rovings. She experimented with using plants from her garden to dye wool, and her notes are detailed and enthusiastic. I would have loved to be her friend. I am sad for her husband and family, to have lost her too soon, but I am also selfishly sad, that I never got to meet her or sit and spin with her.

In Summation

I understand that making New Years’ resolutions sounds cliche and talk-show gimmicky, but here’s why I LOVE them:

The New Year is our annual wake-up call. It’s our chance to think about how we can do better, how we can live better. These wake-up calls come too infrequently. Annual self-reflection is insufficient.

Living with someone who was dying made me uber-sensitive to this opportunity we have, to change our lives frequently for the better. Most of us expect to live a long time, but so often we waste that time by settling into our safe routines.

If I knew I had only a year/month/week to live, I would spend it writing. What would you do?

Hopefully I have more than a year to live, but I see no reason to postpone doing what I want to do.

So my New Year’s resolution for 2018 is to focus on my writing. I’ve applied for an online coach with One Room, I’ll renew my Sisters in Crime and One Stop For Writers memberships, I’ll dive back into writing the last half of my murder mystery novel (“write the book you long to read!”), and I’ll submit that manuscript to the contests and grant program I’ve had on my “future rejections” to-do list since 2017. My reward for finishing my book will be attending the 2019 Malice Domestic conference, so I can shmooze with other mystery writers (and get free books). All of this is doable. It’s just a matter of deciding to do it now.

My happy place.

What Came First: the Stoic or the Stoicism?

My beloved life philosophy Stoicism advocates for frequent self-reflection. Just another reason why it’s great. Maybe you want to adopt a New Year’s resolution to read A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy?

An Essay Should Have a Logical Flow

I suppose my running and inheritance stories didn’t naturally, logically flow into my Summation … they emotionally flowed, for me, and that was enough to justify this blog post. I don’t intend to say “live for those who died too soon!” In fact, both Brock and Val (from what I know of her) did an excellent job themselves of making the most of their time, and doing what they loved to do. They are role models for the rest of us.

The Big Question

So: what are your New Year’s resolutions?