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In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Introducing Ruby Finch Books!

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

It’s my great pleasure to introduce my brand new company, Ruby Finch Books! I wanted to share a little about how this venture came about, and invite you to have a look at my new website and peruse my first newsletter over at Substack (and please sign up to receive it monthly if you are interested in updates on new book launches, classes, creative retreats, cat pics, and other joyful things!).

About halfway through my 2 year graduate degree in Creative Writing, in the summer of 2022, I realised that somewhere along the educational road I’d lost my belief in myself. Writing is a competitive process, in that so many people are talented and accomplished, and I’d been trying to find a literary agent for my contemporary YA novel for about 18 months with no success. I also queried a number of small publishers, who also said no. I had lots of manuscript requests, and kind feedback, and moments of great hope, but at the end of it all, I couldn’t find someone in traditional publishing willing to rep me or publish my book.

I worked with a counsellor for about six months during this period of rock-bottom confidence, and I asked her, “How do I feel successful as a writer?” She answered, “You get to determine for yourself what success looks like, and then you prove your own abilities to yourself.” This was a revelation to me.

As I was thinking my way through this big idea, I had lunch with one of my undergrad writing profs who has mentored me for the last two decades. When I talked with him about my sadness and disillusionment over not finding a traditional publishing contract for my book, he said, “But Julianne, you can publish it yourself.” I remember how my heart starting pounding in my chest, so loud I could hear it in my ears, and the embarrassed feeling of failure I’d been carrying around began to fall from my shoulders.

So often we just need someone else who believes in us to speak up. To remind us that we don’t have to wait forever for approval from some outside source. We are allowed to give it to ourselves. At that moment, I felt like I was standing in the bottom of a well, but when I looked up, I could see daylight. So I started to move toward it.

I wrote in a journal that a friend gave me for my fiftieth birthday in December, pouring all my dreams and ideas for an indie publishing imprint onto its blank pages. I dreamed up a business name, and a plan, and a philosophy for marketing and launching that focused on public libraries and schools. I wrote down names of good friends who were incredibly talented artists, editors, facilitators, sales people, and writers. I created a team of people I adore and want to work with.

Then a miracle happened: I started to love writing again. I wrote my thesis novel last summer in this healthier frame of mind, and I fell in love with the world that was being built on the page. I went back to the themes I longed to explore and why I wanted to write the book in the first place. I felt so grateful to my UBC supervisor who urged me to write the book I longed to write, and not to worry about workshopping it or getting a grade for it. Slowly, I started to understand what my counsellor meant by determining success for myself and then proving my own abilities.

I graduated from UBC in late May, on a gorgeous sunny day. I felt proud of the hard work I put into my MFA, but I think I was even prouder of my Ruby Finch Books business license when it arrived in the mail. I framed it and put it above my desk. It means so much to me to launch this venture. To teach writing classes that also focus on wellness and mental health. To craft book launch events that inspire and create meaning for participants. To share my writing and believe that there’s an audience out there of readers, librarians, and teachers who value some of the same things I do: risk-taking, simplicity, emotional honesty, intuitive courage, and fun.

I’d be honoured for you to come along with me on this new path. Have a look at the website, subscribe to the Substack monthly newsletter, find us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I’d love to build this exciting adventure with you. Reach out, get in touch, ask questions, give me a “hell yeah I’ll read your work.” So often we need someone else who believes in us to speak up. Let’s do this for each other.

Thank you, friends and readers, from the bottom of my heart. I need you, and I’m so grateful for your time, interest, and care.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Uncategorized, University, Writing

Graduation!

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve done it. I made it to the end of my full-time, in-person MFA in Creative Writing graduate program at UBC. I graduate later this month, in a cap and gown (something I missed out on when graduating from KPU with my BA in spring 2021 due to Covid protocols), and I’m excited and proud of this milestone achievement.

There were many times over the last two years that I doubted myself. I felt old, compared to my younger peers, and I worried that my style of writing wasn’t literary enough or avant-garde like the work others were producing. I experienced several moments of personal crisis, where I actively considered not writing at all.

Two things pulled me out of this tailspin. The first was my thesis process. I had a kick-ass advisor, and he gave me permission to write the book I longed to write. He told me to push aside any thoughts of grades, or critiques, or publishing, and simply WRITE for the pure joy of it. After a hard first year of grad classes, his encouragement and belief in my abilities saved me. It set me free from thinking about other people’s opinions and what might sell in the future or not sell. He let me write what was in my heart, and as a result the novel poured out of me. Writing that book made me feel like a writer again.

The second thing that restored my faith in myself was returning to creative nonfiction. Memoir is my first love (other than screenplays), but during my four years of undergrad and the first year of my MFA, I wrote mostly fiction. I didn’t know it, but I was slowly becoming disconnected from my own literary voice. Taking classes in CNF gave me back my voice. It restored my confidence. One woman went so far as to write me a letter after my workshop, saying how much my writing had meant to her, and she urged me to bank on myself. Her encouragement was like an outstretched hand, offering to pull me up and out of the quicksand I’d been sinking in. She helped me to breathe again.

During my last term in the program, I taught a third-year seminar creative writing class, while taking a graduate class in teaching and pedagogy, and I realised that I’m ready to take a new step in my career. I had a series of meetings with professors from both undergrad and grad school, and a fresh vision for my future began to emerge. I’m not quite ready to share all those details yet, because they are still in the early stages, but I’m excited and hopeful about what’s ahead. I have dreamed it, and begun to put a solid foundation under it, and I’ve stopped allowing others to define success for me. I’m now doing that for myself.

In a few weeks, I’ll cross a stage at UBC and receive my Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. I’ve worked hard, achieving an A+ grade average over both of my degrees. I’ve learned a lot, met some fascinating and talented people, and grown and changed in ways I couldn’t begin to conceive of when I returned to university as a mature student in 2017.

It’s time to celebrate, and the future looks bright.

In Books, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Uncategorized, University, Writing

3 Words for 2023

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Every year, I choose 3 words to focus on. Last year, I picked Process, not Product, and it was fun to learn to live into the concept of enjoying writing and teaching for the act itself, not for the end product of completing the project. Slowly but surely, my mindset changed over the course of twelve months.

This year, I chose Bank on Yourself. The phrase itself came from a new friend in my MFA program who took the time to write me a letter when I felt discouraged after one of my workshops. She said, “You know who you are and what it is you want to say. Your writing is beautiful. Bank on yourself.” What a precious gift of encouragement she gave to me that day, and beyond, for I’ve thought of her words often.

For quite awhile now, I’ve been trying to build up my own sense of competency. I worked with two different counsellors on this, and like all personal growth, I felt like I was floundering until one day I wasn’t. One day, I came to my feet, and found that I was once again standing on firm ground.

I could look back and prove to myself just how far I’ve come. That evidence helped me believe in myself again. For too long, I’d had so many other voices in my ear. Voices saying, “Not quite good enough” or “No one wants to read your work” or “You aren’t qualified to teach this or say this.” But it turns out I am qualified. I am good enough. And I’ve connected with a number of people who have kindly told me they do want to read what I’m writing.

That moment when a new puzzle piece of understanding clicks into place is a sensual experience. It involves all of the senses, making us feel like we are wide awake instead of half asleep. Suddenly, we can see new possibilities that were invisible to us before. It’s magic. For me, it never gets old or boring. It’s fresh and exciting every single time it happens.

In 2023, I’m graduating with my MFA in Creative Writing. I returned to university in 2017, hoping to graduate with my BA in ten years, so I could finish what I started thirty-two years ago. Instead of a decade, it took me 6 years to complete two degrees, and somewhere along the way I discovered a new dream of teaching young writers at the undergrad level. I’m so close now. And my publishing dreams are shifting and changing and taking on new and thrilling proportions.

I’m banking on myself, and it feels fucking amazing. I turned 50, and decided to stop waiting around. The time is now to step up and do all the things we’ve always wanted to do.

What are your three words for 2023?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Fall 2022 Retrospective

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I can’t believe I haven’t written a post since early September. Once my semester started, I felt like I had no time or energy to come up for air and think about anything that wasn’t my coursework or my thesis revisions. But a lot of things happened, both externally and internally, and every time I sat down to write a new post for January I lost my train of thought, so I thought I would go back and do a brief retrospective.

It took me a long time to adjust to Ava going to university. She was loving her classes, making new friends, getting fabulous grades and overall thriving in her first three months as a theatre student. I couldn’t believe how different our family seemed with one less person here. Ava’s absence made me keenly aware of the concept of negative space – noticing and appreciating what isn’t there and how it forms and shapes your experience as much as who and what is actually there.

I started to realize that without her, I felt lonely as the sole woman in a house with two males. I wrote about this, in my Creative Nonfiction grad class, but I was attempting to understand something as I was living it out, which is always a challenge. It’s better to let some time pass, so you can see the contours of the thing with more clarity. I’m slowly getting there, but the key takeaway here is that I learned to voice what I need from Jason and from William. I practiced saying, “This is not enough for me. I need more connection, more interaction, more depth of meaning in our relationships.”

Saying that was like flying for me. It was exhilarating. I felt untethered, free, unafraid to lean into the hard conversations in a way that was new and significant. I asked for and expected others to change for me, instead of me bending into awkward relational shapes for others as I’ve done for most of my life. Something about this process opened me up. It shook my systems, disrupting old patterns, making things strained for a time but ultimately helped me to change in a profound and lasting manner.

A favourite meme that I looked at while writing my thesis this summer says, “Some things break your heart but fix your vision.” That was my fall 2022. My heart cracked but then healed, and now I’m different. I also got hit by a truck (literally) in late November. I was at a dead stop at a light, when a tandem semi-trailer truck rolled back and hit me. Hard. My neck and back got all screwed up, not to mention my beautiful pristine Rav 4 which has never had a scratch on her until this collision.

Thankfully, I’m better now with some chiro, massage and physio appointments, and my vehicle will be fixed, but in the aftermath of the accident I realized something with a newfound clarity. You can do everything right, like sitting quietly in a turn lane waiting for the light to change, and still get hit. As hard as I try, I cannot see around every corner to plan for every possible scenario. I’m tired of wasting energy on that shit.

I turned 50 in December, and I feel like I’m just getting started. I’m determined to stop trying for hospital corners. It’s time to invite more emotional mess. To stop asking for permission outside of myself. I’m longing for openness, meaning, depth, fun, laughter, adventure. Being afraid and careful got me to this point. So did doing a lot of people’s inner work for them (or at least trying to). That’s over now. Some things break your heart but fix your vision, and I’m so grateful to be able to see with more clarity as I tackle a new decade of my life.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Uncategorized, University

Changes

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve always loved the beginning of September. Cooler weather, trees beginning to prepare for the upcoming dormancy of winter, back-to-school excitement in the air. It’s a time of fresh possibility and change.

I’m usually invigorated by it. But this year, I find myself mourning in a way I hadn’t anticipated. We took Ava to university on the long weekend, settling her into her new dorm experience at the University of Victoria. She deferred her acceptance last year when a housing shortage meant she couldn’t live on campus for her first year, so we had bonus time with her.

I knew I would miss her, but like everything in life, we don’t really know what we haven’t experienced yet. I worked with a counsellor, starting when Ava was in grade twelve, and she helped me with some excellent preparatory strategies for a child moving out, but the sadness still hit me with a ton of bricks on Sunday night when we hugged goodbye.

I cried. She cried. Her roommate began crying. Her roommate’s mom cried. Every woman in that tiny dorm room was crying. I knew she was going to be fine. I believed wholeheartedly that Ava was right where she was meant to be, and that once the initial rocky goodbye was behind us, she would find her footing and begin to thrive at university.

All of this has happened, and yet I still feel utterly bereft. I reached out to a few of my friends who have walked this road ahead of me, and it helps to know they all felt the same. Thrilled for their children, and proud as punch, but also undeniably grieving the loss of that child in their home in an everyday way.

The surprise for me has come in the way our family functions. Taking one person out of a four person equation means everyone has to adjust and change. I’ve realized now how much I enjoyed chatting with Ava, about everything and nothing all at once. How much we laughed at similar things. I never really noticed how our two-way relationship functioned until it disappeared. And now I really miss it.

Once her classes started on Wednesday, she’s called to tell me all about her new profs, and the friends she’s making, and what’s good and what’s not in the cafeteria. She sounds bright and happy, which is a wonderful thing. I know that we’ll all find our way through this change. It will take time. I also know that when she comes home at Thanksgiving, she’ll be a different person than the one we said goodbye to in early September.

This is the natural order of things. As parents, we take a dependent baby and turn them slowly into an independent adult. It’s an honour to see them coming into their own unique identity, and finding their way as young adults. But it’s also okay to admit that this change is hard on the parents. It leaves you adrift for a little while. I’m trying to be gentle with myself. She hasn’t even been gone a full week yet. It helps to know how other moms navigated these choppy waters.

My counsellor is amazing at reminding me to think about my coping strategies in other turbulent times. However I made it through before, is how I’ll make it through again. This really helps me. It’s healthy to love someone so much that their absence leaves a gaping hole. Like all pain, the only way out is ever through. One foot in front of the other. One day where you cry less than the day before. We are messy humans, having a messy human experience, and navigating key life changes will always be challenging.

But the good news is that we’ve made it through before, which means we have the skills required to make it through again.