Wildfire Weeds Craft Fair

Having a Booth at the Willits Holiday Craft Fair

Because I wrote a “Wildfire Weeds” about locally relevant material, I have been entertaining the idea of attending a holiday craft fair to both visit our local holiday market and continue to let the world know that I am a writer.

I settled on a fair located in Willits because it is closest to home for me. Interestingly, the fair is held in the very location that was set up as a temporary shelter for those of us fleeing the fires of 2017 that fateful night two years ago. The last time I arrived here, it was 2 a.m. and adrenaline filled my entire body. While it was an awkward serendipity, I appreciated being able to bring Wildfire Weeds with me this time around.

The very first person who approached my booth at the craft fair was a firefighter who shared his own story about seeing the wall of fire come for his home in 2017. He promptly evacuated, clear that he wasn’t prepared to go up against that firestorm.

My book, locally, is more than relevant: it’s relatable for a lot of people in this area. His home was spared, but he believed strongly that the wildfires were a result of climate change. Where we used to have rainfall throughout the Autumn months, we now have had a dry September, October, and November for years. Without those rains, we’re seeing fires later and later into the year. A few other visitors to my booth echoed these sentiments, and I could not agree more: the new climate normal is having deleterious effects when it comes to fires and rural homesteads. 

Full Circle

In so many ways, 2019 is the full circle conclusion chapter for the fire exodus of 2017. I finally moved back to the land where I lived this Fall; I’m still settling in, but it feels healing to return to a place that I know so well, and have loved so much. I self-published my novel about the wildfire experience and the effects it has wrought/is wreaking on Northern California’s countryside.

Today, as I am sitting here with my book in hand, I am in awe of the cathartic power of art to heal and make something beautiful from something so painful. I have always intended to become an author, but it wasn’t until my house burned down that I really had the fierce initiative to stop whatever else was occupying my time to sit down and weave a narrative. And now, I cannot stop writing!

Every day I am hit by a lightning bolt of inspiration, and I have to jot down a prompt for a character, a chapter, another book, or a short story that I want to write. I’m still in a big transition; my tiny home isn’t quite ready to move into yet, and I’m wistfully looking forward to the day very soon when I can truly nest and ground myself on the homestead again. It’s difficult to find unstructured time in a quiet spot to write. Most days I am screwing walls together, crafting a marketing plan, or preparing for a road trip book tour. I long for the luxurious promise of 2020, in which I am cozy, sipping tea in my new home, typing away to my heart’s content. 

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