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Imposter in the Woods
by Lori Goshert

The call of a cardinal echoes through the trees. A brown anole skitters up a palm trunk, pausing to listen and bob her head.

With one finger jammed between the pages of my book to mark the place, I crane my neck to peer under the lounge chair, seeking the fat brown ant that disappeared underneath. I examine the back rails to make sure the insect is not making her way toward me, and I shake out my discarded shoes. I regard the jumping spider on the arm of the chair with suspicion—I do not fear spiders, but the unpredictability of jumping insects and arachnids unnerves me. I like knowing where things are and where they are going. Especially if they’re creepy.

I consider myself a lover of nature, even presuming to write about birds and environmental issues. But I keep nature at arm’s length—a long-distance romance.

I devour documentaries of faraway rainforests, reveling in the flight of scarlet and green parrots and the majestic decisiveness of jaguars. I will never visit them, but to ensure their survival, I place my pen, my time, and sometimes my wallet at their service. The oxygen those trees exhale makes my life possible, and their destruction is my own.

The only reason I’d leave the convenience of an urban apartment for a house would be to plant fruit trees and let my lawn burst with food for people and pollinators rather than grass. But I know myself—I would rather suffer jury duty or fold laundry than dig in the dirt, where I’d encounter wriggling earthworms. And the very thought of bugs on my skin makes every hair stand up.

There is much in the city to feed my love of nature: The moss hanging from the southern live oaks. The barred owl behind our building periodically calling “Who cooks for you?” I long to answer him, but he stubbornly refuses to show himself for a real conversation.

The wonders of our national parks call to me, and I long to visit and marvel in the august presence of ancient trees, mirror-still mountain lakes, and multi-pigmented rock formations. But when the sun goes to bed, let me bask in the glory of indoor plumbing, snake- and insect-proof doors and windows, and the promise of morning elixir from the venerable coffeepot. (Though a  voice in the back of my mind scolds me, saying I should know how to “rough it.” For the future, when we’re all living in Octavia Butler’s The Parable of the Sower.)

Am I an imposter, then, when writing about nature issues? I ask myself that each time I lift my pen to extol the delicate beauty of a green heron, the still vigilance of a lizard, or the mossy fairy-tale shape of a live oak. Yet I continue to look for that owl—through my apartment window—and to write about him and his bird friends.

For the people of Ukraine:

Declaration of Interdependence

On this day
of celebrating
independence,
I declare
interdependence
a new truth
to be held
self-evident,
humanity
created free,
interdependent
on each other;

I declare
what defeats
and hurts
any human,
anywhere,
also defeats
and hurts me;

I declare that
suppression
in any corner
of Earth
suffocates,
narrows
the air of the
whole planet,

and I declare
that one day
the uncontrolled
emissions
of anguish
from those yearning
to breathe free
may vanquish
all of us

unless we free
ourselves
to declare
on this Day
of Interdependence:

“No one is safe
until all of us are safe
and no one is free
until all of us are free!”

Joe Pacheco

The Author’s Bakers-Dozen Marketing Points
By Jan Nieman

1.  Always carry your book with you. Even at the gym, someone will ask, “What do you do?” and as you flash your book, you answer with your one minute elevator speech.
2. Don’t become so flustered when speaking to a large group that you forget to mention your book’s title and pass out business cards.
3. If a vendor fee is over $50, it’s probably not worth it – even some under $50 aren’t, but you never know.
4. Be aware, that at bazaars you’ll be tempted by other vendor’s merchandise. Do not — I repeat — do not stroll around the room. Ten-to-one you’ll spend more than you receive.
5. Always notice the exit door location and beat your audience to it after your program.
6. Do not be waylaid by audience members asking for advice on how to market their book. Give them your card, ask them to phone, and again, get to that door!
7. Outdoor events are:
   • Hard on tootsies. Do not wear flip-flops.
   • Windy. Bungee-cord your poster to the nearest telephone pole.
   • Sunny. Don’t forget the SPF 30.
   • Rainy. Wet books do not sell — Cancel!
8. Retirement homes can be challenging. Ignore the resident poking her couch mate in the ribs and shouting “Emma, wake up!” Pack throat lozenges to ratchet up your speaking voice when a resident sets off the panic alarm.
9. Do not ship twelve books without insuring them!
10. The “Today Show” will not contact you unless you’re famous, notorious, or have a fool-proof method for losing 50 pounds in 4 weeks.
11. When program directors, event planners, or book-store manages fail to return messages, don’t be discouraged. After a dozen calls, you’ll hear from them simply to get rid of you.
12. Purchase a new scarf or tie every month to fool people into believing you have an extensive wardrobe and are successful (also hides neck wrinkles).
13. When your optimism is at a low point, out of the blue, a reader will remark, “You’re a good writer. I really enjoyed your book and it sounds just like you speak,”and you arc left wondering how you “do” speak. Nuts! Consider it a compliment.

***Every day is a new day – learn from your experiences***

Print PDF file of Author’s Bakers Dozen