BOOK TRAILER: You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen

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being yourself, dreams coming true, express feelings, friendship, goals, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, video book trailer, writing

After months of working on a book trailer for my memoir, You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen, my team of three high school students and I, finished the project. We previewed it in May at a discussion group of my readers that a fellow writer’s club member had already organized.

Those in attendance gave overall positive reviews to our visuals but pointed out issues with tone, pace and messaging. It was a “back-to-the-drawing-board” moment which had me loading more furniture into the truck and heading back into the woods with fresh ideas a few days later. What we have ended up with is vastly different from our earlier version yet strikingly similar as well.

You might wonder, like I did, why a discussion group would gather for an unpublished manuscript and book trailer viewing. The lively, heartfelt #MeToo debate that unfolded would not have been on my radar ahead of time since my story is primarily about isolation and loneliness, but I get it and I loved it. Many thanks to all who were there and all who have helped make this manuscript and this trailer satisfying representations of a story I have been eager to tell.

My book trailer is on the way – almost done!

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This is my Author’s Team, three high school students, myself and my not-yet-putrid Putrid Doll.

Just in time, back in February our team went out into the creek to film these beautiful scenes. Since then we have worked remotely to put together the two-minute trailer featuring a tea party on a rock in the middle of this raging creek. It hopefully will entice the viewer to want to read You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen. A discussion group organized by readers of the manuscript will get to preview our masterpiece this Thursday.

Sisters

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To all my acquired sisters (and brothers) out there: I love you and appreciate all that you bring to my life!

But my background is unusual, and a little fraught, and so the idea of having carried a sister with me from that difficult past into today, to help interpret what was and what is now, would be terribly sweet.

A scene like this picture above always makes me take pause. It is two sisters. Before the pandemic, I used to see them often and just like this, eagerly engaging in whatever it is they have to share, obviously friends. They report, lest I be confused, that as sisters things are not categorically smooth all the time.

I do love romanticizing the idea of two women who have know each other their whole lives. Partners in life who have seen it all. A trusted friend who knows what others do not and can engage in the lifted eyebrow communication reserved for so few in our lives.

My own sisters and I took different paths, primarily characterized by flight. One ran away physically, and the other, although she did move a thousand miles from home, fled by engaging with everyone through that effective distancer, anger. I haven’t gone as far away on the map, but my world is profoundly different than the one I shared once with them.

I’ve always thought it would be fun to have a sister. But it’s kind of too late now. One is gone at the hands of breast cancer and the other has herself hidden far away. There was so much threat in our lives we learned not to trust anyone, even each other. Real communication, like sharing our feelings about anything as it seems these two sisters above have been doing for a lifetime, that’s off the table.

Too bad, too. I was always up for it.

Join me at the Langhorne Writers Group

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being yourself, change, control, dreams coming true, express feelings, friends, friendship, goals, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, mentors, passion, psychotherapy, trust, words, writing

Next week I’ll be talking to a writers group in Bucks County about the lengthy path I have taken as a writer. Meet me at the Sheraton on Oxford Valley Road in Langhorne, PA at 6:30pm to join in the conversation about This Writer’s Journey.

I knew I had a story to tell when I realized I’d reached adulthood unwilling to trust anyone. Back then I knew to take things seriously. Not to say out loud anything that mattered to me. Not to expect anyone’s help. To be leery of people who wanted to help. To leave my body if I needed to. That is all different now and it has been eighteen years since starting my project.

I’ll be using Austin Kleon’s book, Show Your Work “a best-selling guide to getting your work discovered,” to help me describe my own path. I’ll be using his points to make my points. He says that work, or in our case, writing, “is about process not product and that by being open and freely sharing your process you can gain a following that you can then use for fellowship, feedback or patronage.”

My own process has been slow for good reason, and I’ll talk about the hurdles we all face in trying to move forward in the seemingly solitary pursuit of “being an author.”

 

The Big Mind Break at The Lodge at Woodloch

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If I could have taken a picture of my daughter and myself outdoors in the infinity hot tub, in the woods during a snowstorm, peering out across the forest where deer were nestled in from the weather, to the view of the frozen lake beyond, I sure would have. But, as you can imagine, I just couldn’t manage a camera at the time.

Besides that unique experience I learned to ice fish! No mani-pedi’s for me.

And start fire by rubbing sticks together! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lodge at Woodloch, in the Poconos, was a spa full of deligthful surprises. It was worth the splurge to be there because not only did we have the fun of these physical outdoor activities, we enjoyed some unique indoor fun, too. Here we are on The Great Wall of Yoga.

Once our brains were well-perfused we sat in on a small-group discussion of “apologies.” A social worker led by describing her cancer experience and how her first doctor, who missed the signs and the diagnosis, seemed to be avoiding her. Missing apologies, accepting apologies and how to move on if you’ve decided not to accept an apology were all brilliant points if you ask me since these are issues of everyday life.

The big mind break of thinking in different ways and learning new skill brought a joy I didn’t expect. This gift to my daughter seemed like it might be loaded with the kind of activities I enjoy only in small doses. But the thoughtful variety of things to do and experience were exactly what I appreciated in this January trip to the spa.

High apple pie, in the sky hopes

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Next time you’re found with your chin on the ground, There’s a lot to be learned, so look around

My chin WAS on the ground, so I looked around.

And then three girls from our local STEM high school answered my ad! My new marketing team are these media-savvy students determined to assist this local author in improving my platform.

My agent tells me that the editors she has shown my work to were interested in my story, in my writing and in me. But my lack of a platform has been a stumbling block. I need to engage with the writing community more and reach out to potential readers. So since this is not what I know how to do naturally, I have called together these smart teens to assist.

My goals include producing a book trailer that highlights the story I have available for publication, taking the time to regularly sit next to a live person who can in real time advise me on how to make “genuine connections electronically”, and learn more about the authors out there that I love for their work and their stories.

Wish me luck as I embark on this self-assignment to lead this team toward the publication of my manuscript.

I’ve got high hopes. I’ve got high apple pie in the sky hopes.

P.S. In case you are wondering, goober peas are boiled peanuts. Just saying.

This guy taught me how to laugh

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Jane Paffenbarger Butler – author – with the man she captured in her giant blanket

Somehow at the age of nineteen, I spotted a guy who would stay with me for the next 40 years and counting. To be fair, he spotted me and I ran the other way, and it was only because several acquaintances pointed out his obvious interest and implored me to take him seriously, that I finally noticed him as a potential partner for life. He’s been nothing but steadfast, nothing but kind, and nothing but improved with age. Thank you friends who did that.

He knew not how to plumb a bathroom when I met him. He was not a loving parent or sole breadwinner. But since then he has become all these things and more. And in addition he’s propped me up through thick and thin, he’s counseled me on what I have not known and he has encouraged me and been my advocate when I didn’t know I needed it.

His winning attributes in the beginning were that he was funny and he was kind. He made me laugh and then taught me how to do it, and now, all these years later we are still laughing together.

Believe me, I had no idea what I was doing back then, but my gut reaction to this man has served me well through the years. He hasn’t changed much really. The kind, shy, funny, smart, encouraging guy I met at nineteen is still there, it’s just that all of that has morphed and matured and come along in an even better form right up to today.

This month, in Psychology Today online I tell the story of my young husband who takes me to his Aunt Maureen’s at Christmas where I discover that everyone refers to his Uncle Dave as Meathead, thus beginning my education in humor. Take a look at “Introduction to Meathead Therapy” on the Healthy Connections blog post by Maryann Karinch.

Is it possible to be more romantic than this?

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Paris Opera House Ceiling

Everything about this moment was romantic. It wasn’t enough just to be back in Paris thirty-five years after we’d honeymooned there, but we were also staying at the same hotel and stopping in at Fouquet’s, the same place on the Champs-Elysee we’d stumbled onto late one night when we were newlywed where we had chocolate mousse we hadn’t ever forgotten.

No, all that wasn’t romantic enough.

My husband thought we should have a date out on the town and lined up a trip to the opulent Paris Opera Garnier. We donned our fanciest travel clothes and sat beneath the blessing of Marc Chagall’s colorful celebration of art itself.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the program that night, an homage to Jerome Robbins, harkened back to our early days. As newlyweds we often attended the New York City ballet at their outdoor summer home at Saratoga Performing Arts Center in upstate New York. The staging of “Glass Pieces” in particular was so familiar that it took my breath away to know I was in Paris, France, at the Opera House, with my boyfriend who was still following me around and delighting me with his thoughtfulness and kindness and shared joy of all things artistic, that I could barely watch through the tears in my eyes.

We left that night, awed by the layered gilded building, the rainbow of Chagall’s ceiling, the drama of ballet and the deep thankfulness in our hearts for one another and for the great good fortune to be able to hold each other’s hands still and take it all in.

Wedding Love Altar

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This is the “love altar” I created as a centerpiece for my son’s recent wedding. A number of women special in their lives were invited to make a table decoration that reflected the love they feel in their lives and particularly as it relates to either the bride or the groom. Each table had a different creation but all had a crystal as the centerpiece. After the wedding the bride and groom took home the crystals and now have a centerpiece there, of crystals, to take into their future that are charged with the love of family and friends.

My card reads, “The authentic bird’s nest here represents the happy home that the bride and groom have created that will serve as the foundation for their love going forward. Mom’s love, the groom’s love for his bride, and her love for him, are sometimes expressed through baking, thus the spatula. Worn but faithful, Spot, is present at this wedding as a reminder of the security found among old friends. They joy, laughter and sense of extended family is tied up in one Wise and Otherwise playing card. The wooden photo frame made by and depicting the groom’s great-great-grandfather hints at the groom’s own creativity, a source of solution should trouble arise. And the idea, no matter how lame, of the groom’s parents as Brazilian dancers, suggests you do not have to be great at what you do together, you just have to mean it.”

Stepping out

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He may look tired and worn but Spot would not miss his old buddy, my son’s, upcoming wedding. He’s all decked out in a custom bow tie I made him for the big day.