Dana Bowman Creative

My Favorite Books from 2022

By Leave a Comment

Prescription for 2023: Read more.

I’m wondering if anyone else out there had a hard 2022? Things were… weird. I’m not in the mood for a recap, because I do that in nearly every other post I write. So, today? Today we are steely-jawed, eyes on the future, standing straight and tall, stepping out into our destiny that is 2023. Are you with me? *cue bagpipes* They might take our liiives but they canna take our freeedommmm!

(For those of you who are curious as to why I suddenly escalated my 2022 into a scene from Braveheart it’s because I am always trying to find a way to use Scottish dialect in my writing. It’s lovely.)

Instead of rehashing battle wounds, let’s talk books. I’m pretty sure William Wallace didn’t have much time for reading, but I did, and for that I’m grateful. Books make great weapons (ok, not literally, William). But also? They heal. They’re paradoxical and surprising and lethal and loving, and I must have all of them.

So, in no particular order (except for the last one) here are my favorite reads from 2022:

1.Keep Going: 10 Ways to Stay Creative in Good Times and Bad. Austin Kleon. I read Kleon’s book as a refresher for a college course I was teaching on creativity. Kleon’s writing is like a comic book for your brain. His ideas seem to come out of that jumbled craft drawer you had as a kid, where you could dig around and find all sorts of goodies for your diorama on the platypus. For my class (no dioramas, unfortunately, but it’s an idea for the next time I teach the class) I planned on suggesting it as a supplemental read, but I ended up buying each student a copy. It is that good, and necessary, for them to have.

2. Flow: They Psychology of Optimal Experience. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. This was also for my class, and we spent the entirety of the semester skirting around the issue that none of us could figure out how to pronounce Mihaly’s name. So, we just referred to him as Big C. This book was science and story, combined, which is the best possible combination (You know how I love story; I created a whole podcast around it). It’s very research-y, but it also gave me lesson ideas like writing a love letter to your younger self, and when the students read them aloud, I cried. This is optimal. Subsequently, I let my students out ten minutes early and forgot about the homework. Great job, Big C!

3. Remarkably Bright Creatures. Shelby Van Pelt. Uh, an octopus that communicates with an aging woman because they both feel a bit forgotten and lonely? And then they sorta become friends? And there’s an addiction and recovery side-story? Yep. It’s in there. Also, you will fall in love with the octopus, and now I want to go find a lonely octopus of my own *waves hands about* out there somewhere and befriend it. Yes, I live in Kansas, but books that give you big dreams? That’s the stuff right there.

4. The Artful Edit. Susan Bell. I’m reading this because I am enrolled in this course to become a certified book coach. Now, I have authored two books and have been a writing and English teacher since the dawn of time. I’ve had my share of editing experiences. This process can cause me much despondency and gnashing of teeth. One time while editing, I threw my pen across the room and it scared Bob, but she forgot to unhook her claws from her bed before she leapt about, so that ended well. Bell’s book is creative, full of story, and massively helpful. I’d put it up there with Bird by Bird and On Writing.

5. The Fox and I. Catherine Raven. I don’t really know what prompted me to take this one off the bookshelf at the library, but I’m glad I did. Now I want to go find a fox and befriend it too. This book is meditative and makes you feel like you’ve gone on a good long walk in the sun and wind when you read it. Also, last I checked, the author has no social media or platform. She still lives out there, somewhere, in a cabin, with her dreams and her writing. I like to think about that.

6. I’ll Be Gone in the Dark. Michelle McNamara. This book is harrowing and endlessly fascinating and all the while there’s a background thrumming that McNamara’s vision and work and focus will lead to tragedy. It’s heartbreaking. And it’s some of the best true crime literature I’ve ever read.

7. Creativity: A Short and Cheerful Guide. John Cleese. Can we just take a moment to appreciate the world treasure that is John Cleese? I read this in one sitting and I could HEAR him reading it to me. That is all you need to know.

And finally…. the best for last:

8. Fairy Tale. Stephen King. When I finished this book, my husband Brian was just coming up to bed. It was around midnight. I was just sitting there, clutching the book to my chest and when he settled under the covers, I started to tell him about it. I had to talk to someone about it. It’s a hero’s quest, a mythical journey, a recovery story, a coming of age tale, a dog’s life, and more than a bit terrifying. All in one. I begged for characters to stay alive and for the dad to stay sober. It was the complete book.

Oh! And here is an honorable mention. I found it because Stephen King recommended it on Twitter, and we should all do whatever Stephen King says. I went out that day and checked it out, and then created this, which the author RESPONDED to, so now we’re besties. As is the way.

So, there you go! I’m hoping you will message me with your favorite reads this year, so I can add to my list. There’s always more books in the sea, along with an octopus, out there, somewhere, waiting for me to transform its life.

If you would like some researched and curated quick tips on this topic and more creative hacks, join me for Pie and Coffee: 3 Habits, 2 Helps, and 1 bit ‘o Hope, free of charge. Sign up below!

I like pie

Here you go: My Annual Top Ten Thankfuls!

By 3 Comments

I don’t really remember how long this tradition goes back in my blog. I know I’ve been posting my thankfuls wayyyy back on Momsie (the blog that started it all). Here’s one that I wrote the PROVES BRIAN AND I ARE STILL MARRIED , which was an exciting read. Also, there’s lots of badly lit pictures of Steve on that post, so there you go. Biggie Meows ALWAYS was on my thankful list, and yes I still miss him.

And as one who really understands the concept of gratitude (being in recovery is an automatic pass into Land Of The Super Grateful because we can’t help ourselves. We’ve made it out alive, after all. Not everybody gets to be so lucky) I LOVE to post my Top Ten Thankfuls. It just makes me happy.

So away we go:

10. New opportunities. I am currently working on getting certified to become a book coach with these folks. The program is a LOT. Like, I think it will take me about six months if not longer to get there. There’s homework. My sons and I work together now, muttering and typing (why do muttering and typing always seem to go together?) But the program is exciting as it is rigorous, and as a writing instructor AND a writer, I think it will be a perfect fit.

9. Running. I’ve been running at least three times a week now. I started out walking every other block, and now I am able to run it all. 🙂 I’m proud of myself for this. Last year, I had pretty much decided running was no longer possible, but I really missed it. I missed the feeling of my feet on the pavement, and that glorious and painful sprint at the end. I missed the cold mornings. So, look at me, running again. It’s a flipping miracle. Also, on the days that my run feels like I’m jogging through peanut butter I’m going to go back and read this post to, uh, adjust my attitude. I think that should be a new hashtag, btw. #peanutbutterrun

8. Um… my health? I don’t know how to sum this up, but this past year health-wise has been, to say the least, challenging. Hearing issues have been a big problem. I have tinnitus, and so my ears are always doing this weird shrieky thing (Have you seen Dumb and Dumber? The most annoying sound in the world? Yea, that. (By the way, I have actually never seen Dumb and Dumber in its entirety. My husband, however, has seen it multiple times. This pretty much sums up our marriage.) And then there’s menopause, where your hormones attack you and make you feel crazy about it. At one point, about 8 months ago, I wondered if this was just it. If I was going to feel like crud forever. Guess what? I am indeed not going to feel like crud forever! I am crud-free about 75% of the time! It’s fabulous!

7. Steve. There, I said it again. I’m grateful for him, and how much I loved him, and that my eyes still tear up pretty much anytime I think about him. I am grateful I loved my big boi so much. He was my furry muse.

Biggy Paws

6. And so… Rey.

She’s trying very hard to come in between me and my laptop.

Rey has been a great comfort to me while I grieve for Sir Meows a Lot. She comes over and presses herself up against me, and then tries to crawl in my lap which is awkward because the girl can take up SPACE. I admire her confidence. I always imagine she’s just sort of softly muttering as she attempts the lap-sneak, all “Pardon me… say… I might sit… don’t mind me I’m just gonna.., yes, HERE we go… oopsie, ok, just gonna squeeze through while I… ” and voila! Really uncomfortable cuddles! Watch this vid to get a glimpse of it in action. It is a thing of beauty.

5. My husband.

Also, he’s tall.

His name is Brian and he is often mentioned here. I wrote pages and pages about him in both my books. He’s a never-ending fountain of somewhat annoying but well-loved material. When I did stand-up last summer, 99.8 % of my material was under the heading: WHY. HE KEEPS DOING THIS and it was a hit. The best part is he sat there during the set and laughed too. That’s because he is generous and loving and has a lot of patience, which come to find out is shockingly necessary when you’re married to me.

4. It seems rather like I should put my sons in here too. Right? Right.

My fourteen-year old is now as tall as I am, and he is learning to drive. While this is occuring (the driving not the height), and I have the misfortune of actually being in the car with him at the same time, I have learned to practice deep-breathing and what I like to call “Shrieky-whisper-prayer-driving.” Charlie is smart and focused and will probably run a large corporation one day because his absolute passion in life is telling other people what to do. So, go forth and boss people around, my son. I adore you.

My twelve-year old, Henry, smiles and winks at me about 67% of the time as he gets out of the car to go to school. He is also smart and driven and won’t ever run a large corporation because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. He dreams of making it into the Air Force and flying planes. Without hurting anyone’s feelings. He has the attention span of a a very nice squirrel toddler on crack, but I forgive him because also he really loves my cooking. I adore you.

3. Sayings like: It’s always darkest before the dawn.

What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.

We’re gonna keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on dancing all through the night.
We’re gonna keep on, keep on, keep on doing it right (Ok, I stole that from the Brady Bunch).

If this year had been a motivational poster, I’m the kitten.

I mean… I guess there are worse things.

Who else had this poster ?? My sister had it on her wall 🙂

Here’s the thing. It is actually pretty dark before the dawn. But then, WHAMMMO. Dawn happens. Like every day.

And, I am strong. I was doing a plank earlier and Rey came and laid ON me (Again with the “lemme just… pardon me… I’m just going to sit right on here… “) so I’m basically ready for an Ironman.

And there has been some grooving in my life lately. A lot in fact. I can’t help it. I just can’t help it.

2. Yellow Converse.

Through the magic of Tiktok (something I thought I would never hear myself say, tbh) I have found funky, colorful, creative women who thrift weird art and like to play around with clothes. Sometimes they even pair (*gasp) plaids with stripes. The whole #wearwhatyoulove thing is a hashtag I can get behind. It started when I had to get more headshots for speaking things, and I decided to bring two pairs of shoes: pointy serious ones or my yellow converse. My photographer asked me, “Which ones make you feel more like you?” Yellow converse it is. It seemed, at the time, an audacious move. But then I asked myself, “What Would Brene Do?” and I wore them. And from there, it’s been a joyride into color and texture and just loving the creativity of it all.


1. Faith. Both in God and in humanity. Perhaps this won’t make sense to some of you. Some might feel like faith is a cliche. Or a speck of something, insignificant or annoying. Some might thing also that humanity has been circling the Great Toilet Bowl of Life for a while now (social media really has a handle on that and I really do hope you saw what I did there). I completely agree. As one who has found my faith shooketh all over the place in the past year, which also, not so very coincidentally, cracked open my Pollyanna-ish views of people in high places… it’s been a lot. It’s been hard. I have been frustrated and overwhelmed and at one point, I just told God I was mad at him and I wanted to break up. I’d been duped. I didn’t sign up for this. I wanted my flannel-graph Jesus back.

But, Jesus persisted. In his most human and godlike form (no flannel unless hipster Jesus?), he sat with me through it all. And then he walked with me, read with me, prayed with me. He didn’t give up on me. I’m not going to give up on him.

Besides. He helped me get sober and for that I owe him my life. Just my life. Nothing more.

So, there you go! My Top Ten Thankfuls. I would like to add one more as a bonus. It’s my blog and I can do what I want:

You. I am grateful for you, my dear reader. You are such a blessing to me.

Have a very Happy Thanksgiving and remember:

#eatdessertfirst

Waddle on, my sober friends. I am grateful for you. You know who you are 🙂

Sister friends.

By Leave a Comment

Me and my awesome friend, Jess, on the week before our podcast launch. Happy days 🙂

So, happy Monday everybody. I spent most of the weekend feeling like congealed gravy. It was a a mixture of (deep breath): Allergies/menopause/overwhelm/parenting two boys who are tweens/AND also I finished a really good book and didn’t have a NEW book to replace it this weekend so I was adrift.

You know what I mean. Right?

But it’s MONDAY and I’m gonna just MONDAY the living daylights out of it. This morning, I got up before dawn and put on a hoodie (#nobraseason) and left for very early coffee on my friend’s front porch. Her porch makes me feel like I am on an Alpine vacation and since it’s very possible I will be spending a good part of my day later doing very un-vacationey things like cleaning and working, this little Alpine retreat was a great start to my day. One can always hold a tiny slice of 7 am Swiss Alps in our hearts to help tide us over when later we are trying to understand why teenagers leave trails of Slim Jim wrappers everywhere they go, like slugs with a thing for protein.

Four of us were there, surrounded by fuzzy blankets and a whole lot of pumpkin spice creamer, and at 7 am, before the sun, we proceeded to dive into: insecurities/overwork/children/fear/parenting/healing/perspective/aging/& how chobani pumpkins spice creamer are the best.

Again, this was all at seven am. We are like the Navy Seals of introspective self-healing folk.

All this mental communion then motivated me to go for a run. So basically I have turned a corner on the congealed gravy thing.

Look, I’ve been married for a while now, and my husband is my best friend. But. My girl friends? They are my sister-friends. I need them so desperately. To be honest I wasn’t always like this. It took turning fifty, menopause, and just a whole lot of life to really help me see and value and NEED these women in my life.

And, I’m thankful for early runs and Monday restarts and sun that slants on a crisp morning and makes you feel like anything in this life is possible. Oh and pumpkin spice creamer because I’m basic I guess?

And allergy meds. Oh thank you sweet Lord.

But today I am just mostly forever grateful for my girlfriends.

My sister friends.

“You’re too old and too uncool” – and other lies we tell ourselves.

By Leave a Comment

(This post was shared with you from Momsieblog)

So… Are you done at 51?

This question, in all it’s poetic glory, surfaced in our newpodcast today. We were talking about what it’s like to be fifty. To feel a bit invisible. To wonder about whether our synapses can still accept new information.

SPOILER ALERT: HECK NO YOU ARE NOT DONE.

You are not done at 51 even if:

  1. You feel tired. Listen. We’re all tired. The entire world is tired. It’s ok.
  2. You feel invisible. As stated above, it’s a thing. You turn 50 and then you become non existent. You give up and start wearing skorts. But invisibility is a wonderful thing at times. Just ask Harry Potter.
  3. You are a weensy teensy bit menopausal. Ok, this one is just for me, but you know. If you are a uterus person and you are of a certain age, it’s gonna happen. There are pros and cons. I don’t have time to cover them all here but I will say this: Those cooling mattress pad thingies that cost crackamillion dollars on the amazons? BUY THEM. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. JUST GO.
  4. You are constantly reminded by your eleven year old spawn that you are: “The like oldest mom in my class! Even older than my teacher! By like a lot! We talked about it and made a chart and yep you are IT!”

All of these things are things that happen at 50. They especially tend to happen if you are:

  • female
  • silver-haired (which sounds weird but go here. You’ll see).
  • A bit late in the baby-birthing game so you are in that weird limbo of totally menopausal but also still stuck talking about minecraft all the time
  • any combination of the above but the female thing is kinda crucial

I’m not one to brag* but lately? I have started a podcast, figured out co-hosting, not completely made my co-host mad at me not even once, and also managed to keep my kids off screens 30% of the time for the first two weeks of summer.

CLEARLY I AM THE BOSS.

If you are feeling kinda… done? At 51? Or 21? or whenever-one?

You’re not. It’s just not a thing. I realize that mullets are a thing, and mom jeans are a thing now, and yes, Bennifer has become, yet again, a THING.

But: BEING DONE IS JUST NOT A THING.

So. Carry on, mommas.

PSA: Naps are a thing though. #priorities

*not exactly the truth.

Purpose. And styrofoam.

By Leave a Comment

Friends. I’m gonna come clean.

I am addicted to storing cardboard boxes in my basement.

So… let’s set the scene, shall we?

My family, last Christmas: Gleefully unwrapping way too many presents because it’s a pandemic and I wanted to buy their happiness.

Me, last Christmas: Sitting in a corner, lovingly stroking an amazon.com box muttering “my preshus” to it while the dog looked on with concern.

There have been repeated box interventions on the husband’s part. They usually consist of him going down to the basement to work out and then shouting at me, while kicking boxes all over. Phrases are used that are clearly anti-cardboard box, and a bit anti-wife as well if I’m being completely honest. He then lugs a bunch of them out to recycling, but I just sneak more down there when a fresh order from amazon arrives.

And so, the circle of life continues.

Here are a few other items that I can’t seem to stop piling up in the basement:

  1. Broken lampshades. You never know when you’re gonna need a wonky lampshade that leans to one side.
  2. Paint cans with one inch of dried paint in the bottom. You never will need them, but it’s important they stay there for forty bajillion years.
  3. Rugs that your dog chewed on but somehow might come in handy somewhere because you paid a lot for that ###@ rug and so it must remain. THERE WILL BE A USE FOR IT I JUST KNOW IT.
  4. Dead crickets.
  5. Massive chunks of styrofoam from random appliances we bought. Once, when the boys were little these would come in handy for building twains. We would grab a box (And repeat after me: YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GONNA NEED A GOOD BOX) from the basement, and festoon it with styrofoam smokestacks and wheels, and voila. Childhood just became more adorable.

Don’t believe me?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… My (badly focused) children.

In a box:

You’re welcome.

Ok, granted, this looks like there is some sort of fireman theme, but you get the drift.

And, sidenote: this picture completely sums up both boys.

Kid on left: Studious. Focused. This is a serious box.

Kid on right: Nutball.

Fast forward to today. There are still a lot of boxes down in my basement. 2020 happened and we threw our credit cards and online ordering at it. This morning had me staring at a computer screen because I had just finished a large-ish project, and I couldn’t focus. After one project is done, it seems I am a bit… adrift after. So, this morning, I felt glum. My purpose had been all poured into one thing and now that thing was all over. The strength and energy needed to redirect the brain and creativity of Dana to the New Thing was stalled out.

And that’s when I spied an email from the boys’ teacher. A STEM project was in need of… RANDOM BITS OF STYROFOAM.

HARK!

When in doubt, help others. Which in this case meant grabbing this mess from my basement (cat not included):

holy cow my baseboards are dirty.

Why yes, it was all packed up and ready to go. It had been our train box. We hadn’t touched it since the boys were little and cute and said “twains” instead of “trains.” And I must admit that as I loaded it up into the car, I felt a little sad. But now it had a Purpose again.

The moral of the story:

When stuck, help someone else. It shook the cobwebs off for me, and now I’m on to another thing.

And also: You really, really never know when you’re gonna need a good box. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

Jim’s story, songwriting, and 70’s tuxedos.

By Leave a Comment

Ok, so on our latest Neighborgood episode, my cousin was the storyteller.

I do realize this kind of sounds like that thing where you only hire your family to be a part of your Big Thing… but listen. The Neighborgood is not a Big Thing. Not yet, anyhow. And Jim is cool.

Also, I’m really trying to get my dad on the show too. He’s cool too. It’s my podcast. I can do what I want.

Anyhow. Jim’s story is about how he got Covid.. and how he had Covid-guilt (it’s a thing). And how he is now. And if you want to hear more, go listen. This post is about this:

Well, not really, but I really cannot seem to avoid posting this picture of Jim in his prom tux in as many places as possible.

What this post is REALLY about, in spite of all the 70’s goodness, is songwriting.

Jim is a lot of things. He’s a pastor at a church. He’s an expert of the enneagram. He used to be a science teacher. He’s an artist. And he is a musician. And so is his son, Daniel.

There is lot of creativity going on with this family. Like… a LOT. And I am grateful for it.

My family is creative. My mom is a painter (she would say she “was” but in my book, once a painter, always a painter.) Also my dad? He has the ability to fix almost anything with stray baling wire. That’s creative, folks. My sister, Jenni? She paints. She decorates cakes. She also sends me snapchats on a regular basis of her pug, Arya, doing something cute to disco music. See? More creativity.

My sister Sherry? The best ideas ever for engaging little kids (Sensory tables! Cookie decorating contests! Endless patience!) And she quilts. I have one of her creations on my bed and am glad that she is the quilter in the family because: Warmth, but beautiful.

My brother? Don’t get me started. He used to do radio shows -recorded on a cassette player of the olden days that looks like this:

Yes kids. This did work.

He basically did a one-man comedy show that was actually funny. Sometimes he would invite us as guests, Jenni and I. We would ruin it. His humor lit up a room.

And then there’s me. The youngest one in the bunch. I write things. And now, I podcast things. I have to, because if I don’t I feel like something is missing.

And lately, I have really come to appreciate this whole creativity thing. It seems more important now, as I get older. And 2020. And sadness.

Creativity saves us all.

It’s songwriting, for the soul.

And lest you think that’s cheesy, just remember this: The first thing that we know about God is that He created things. And no, I am not comparing myself to God. Not even.

I’m just saying: God created us. We create things. It’s the formula. Or we wither.

And… Here are some of Jim’s paintings. They are lovely:

look at the sky

And finally,

#nobodyframesspreadsheets:

New episode alert!

By Leave a Comment

Subscribe to The Neighborgood!

Friends, we have a new episode today at The Neighborgood!

This week’s guest at the #frontporchpod is Chad. A lawyer. A really smart guy. And possibly the nicest person I’ve ever not-met-in-person-but-really-hope-to-one-day.

Chad lives in London, and we talk about Covid and his job search, the bar exam (or the British version), and, well… loooooooove.

He’s doing lawyer stuff here. Or he’s at a wedding. Either way.

And then of course Dana segues and makes it all about HER and HER love life because it’s my and I can if I want to.

And we also discuss my husband’s very iffy wardrobe choices:

I think it’s safe to say this is NOT CHAD.

Take a listen!

The Neighborgood Podcast

Also, stay tuned for Friday’s Facebook LIVE on MY FRONT PORCH! We’ll be giving away fabulous merch for some lucky winners who have subscribed and reviewed!

Remember: #storywillsaveus