Writing (and Living) in the Midst of Fear
By Sarah Callender | June 30, 2022 |
Note: This post does not contain a happy ending.
In Seattle, June is the cruelest month. Terrifying. Violent, too. A month where people rarely leave their homes, and if they must, they hurry from house to car, exhaling only once safely inside, windows rolled up, doors locked. In June, schools forgive truancy. Non-urgent appointments–dental check-ups, meetings with financial planners, eyebrow shaping–pretty much anything other than trips to the ER–are put off until mid-July.
Have you seen Hitchcock’s film, The Birds? Hitchcock himself claimed, “It could be the most terrifying motion picture I have ever made.”
I bet Hitchcock was inspired by Seattle in June.
Because of Poe’s quothing ravens, I’ve always found crows a bit sinister, but in general, I had no beef with any corvids, not really, until June 2013. While walking to get my daughter at school, a crow–out of nowhere–slapped me across the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine. At least, that’s what it felt like.
The June 2015 NPR story, “They Will Strafe You,” taught me these attacks are common. I was simply in the wrong place (near the crow’s fledglings) at the wrong time (June, fledgling season). This particular crow, undoubtedly sleep deprived and struggling with postpartum depression, deemed me a threat. Thus, she grabbed her June 2013 issue of The New Yorker, or perhaps The Economist, or maybe it was The New Republic, and whacked my head.
I began to fear another strafing.
“No eye contact, people!” I’d yell at my children, my husband, my dog, whenever I saw a crow. “You make eye contact, and THEY WILL STRAFE YOU!”
The whole world was starting to feel unsafe, and not just in June. Year-round, I felt the beady eyes of crows upon me.
Fast forward nine (terror-filled) years, and we arrive at Spring 2022.
At the end of May, bunion surgery left me horizontal with my sad, swollen foot in the air. For weeks, I crutched only between the TV room sofa and my Room of Convalescence. Back and forth, forth and back.
Bedridden and homebound, I could not escape their terrible cawing, could not ignore the murderous shadows that darkened my windows. Twenty-three days post-op, loopy with a weird mix of boredom and fatigue, tired of my POW status, I raised my fist at the crow-laden spruce in my yard.
“Nevermore!” I shouted. “NEVERMORE!”
After Googling “what do crows eat,” (the answer: “pretty much anything”) I crutched to the kitchen and found a box of stale, generic-brand Wheat Thins. I then crutched awkwardly–it’s difficult to crutch while holding a box of anything–to the sliding glass doors that leads to our backyard. I opened the doors six inches, set my crutches on the floor, sat myself beside my crutches, then frisbee’d a fistful of crackers outside.
Needless to say, by the end of the week, I had a handful of brainy crow-pals, all of whom I christened “Carroll,” a gender-neutral name that ensured I wouldn’t wrongly assume their preferred pronouns. Their crownouns.
Extending the olive branch of generic Wheat Thins, inviting my worst fear into our yard, having the opportunity to applaud the Carrolls for the way they neatly stacked crackers, four at a time, then transported their repast with Henry Ford-like efficiency to their roost, all that made me a little less fearful. Not fear-free, just less fear-full.
Except my husband was uncomfortable. My children, confused. My BFF, Erica, feared I had finally lost my mind. My funny friend, Robin, dropped off a little crow finger puppet.
Worse, there was exponentially more crow crap in our backyard. And things had gone missing: twine that held my husband’s raspberry bushes against the fence, a few of his melon seedlings, the pack of tiny-handed raccoons who sauntered, arrogant and badass, through our yard pretty much whenever they felt like it.
Recently, I think a lot about fear. How, like a contagion, fear infects our hearts and brains, our relationships and communities. Even when there’s good reason to feel scared, fear tempts us to retreat, isolate, blame, hoard. Our hearts become hard, stingy. Our worlds become small.
But thank goodness for writers! Writers invent stories that connect strangers and expand hearts, stories that make readers’ worlds bigger. Writers arrange words into images that remind people of the beauty that remains, even amid today’s difficult news. Stories, even scary ones, make us feel not so alone, not so disconnected, not so fear-filled.
On June 1st, after spending ten years writing, and another ten years of rejection and revision, my loyal agent and I found a home for my first novel.
There are roughly seventy-five reasons for this nebulous, nagging fear, all of which are simultaneously valid and stupid. But just as we cannot create a world where epidemics, tyrants, injustice, and dive-bombing crows are extinct, we cannot create a fear-free life. We can only keep inviting the crows to our backyard.
“The Carrolls are eating my bean plants,” my husband announced.
The bean plants he grew from seed. I swallowed. “You’re sure it’s the Carrolls?”
He nodded. “And there’s the crow-crap. And the missing twine … I think we need a scarecrow.”
A scarecrow? Suddenly I was meant to terrorize the Carrolls?
Equally important: How could I face my fear if I couldn’t, well, face my fear?
He was right though. I had to stop feeding them. There was the issue with the crow-crap and the missing stuff. Plus I love my dog. I didn’t want the Carrolls to take him as their own.
And honestly, I was still scared of the Carrolls. I still worried they’d attack me, tie me down with the stolen twine, steal my shiny necklace, then peck out my face. Acknowledging the fear, exposing myself to it, feeding it stale crackers, had not made it evaporate.
Likewise, acknowledging that this next phase of the writing journey is terrifying, identifying the reasons for the terror, blogging about it, none of that eradicates the fear. It’s still there, and it’s still scary.
Simple! I continue moving forward in my writing journey. So do you. We continue using words to expand the world, to amplify empathy, to fertilize the love-parts of our fellow human’s hearts. We keep creating characters who are happily living their safe lives–until they are suddenly very much unsafe. Those characters help us understand how to navigate a vast array of our own real-life, omnipresent, Hitchcockian horrors.
See? No happy ending.
Just this truth: The world needs not scarecrows, but stories. Mine and yours.
Your turn! What’s your greatest writing-related fear? Have you ever been crow-slapped? What crazy things have you done as a result of bunion surgery? What do you do when fear, depression, or sorrow feels bigger than your need to write?
I can’t wait to hear from you.
Crow photo by Flickr’s Sheila Sund.
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
[coffee]
“Needless to say, by the end of the week, I had a handful of brainy crow-pals, all of whom I christened “Carole,” a gender-neutral name that ensured I wouldn’t wrongly assume their preferred pronouns. Their crownouns.” ❤️❤️❤️
Sarah if this post represents your ability to spin a yarn (or a twine?) from fear, your book will do just fine. The Birds is by far the scariest movie I’ve ever seen, and convinced me that horror movies need not be part of my life. Wishing you and your novel all the best!
Thank you, dear Kathryn! I must give my smart husband credit for the “crownouns” pun. He comes in handy for many reasons. Thank you for this comment and for your kind encouragement. This community is the reason I’ll be able to muddle through. <3
Hey, they don’t call a group a Caroles a Murder for nothing.
Also–Yay Sarah! I can’t recall ever being happier for one of my fellow journeyers. Two decades of perseverance! What could possibly stop you after that? No, let me answer that: Nothing! That’s what.
My day of reckoning is coming, too. In October. After 18 years (this very Carole Terror month, in fact). I’m terrified, too. I’m sure a Murder of reviewers is going to peck my pour baby apart, and leave it lying bloody in the bean patch (or is it lay? Laying? See why I’m terrified?!) I only know I can face the impending pecking because of my own grouping of fellows. (Say, what is a good name for a group of us? A Dawdle of writers? Maybe a Muddle of writers? Maybe address it in another post. Just a thought.)
I may be terrified, but I’m still thrilled for you! I’ve got your back–waving my copy of Writer’s Digest at any swooping Caroles! Wonderful post, Sarah. Welcome back!
Oh, Vaughn! That’s such amazing news. During the school year, there are many important things that fall by my wayside … one of them is my daily reading of WU. I’ll scroll back through your posts for the details … though please feel free to share here too! I am thrilled for you, oh tenacious one. You are an inspiration for me, and for everyone at WU. I really mean that.
And I love the idea for my next post! A muddle. That’s perfect.
For me, my 2013 strafing was so terrifying because it was unexpected. Literally out of nowhere the crow-slap came, and when I turned, there was no one there. That makes them akin, perhaps, to internet trolls and untraceable commenters who slap writers when they are least expecting it. But trolls are no match for a muddle; that’s for sure. I’ve got your back.
xoxo! SO happy for you.
PS–You are right; it’s lying. I remember it this way: Lying is the act of reclining (LYing and reCLINing have the same long “i” sound. “Laying” happens when you place something somewhere (LAYing and PLAcing have the same long “a” sound). English. It’s so muddling.
Hi again — Guess I’d better save you the trouble of a search, as I’ve never done a post with any sort of formal announcement, but I decided about a year ago to pull my book one manuscript off of he market in NYC and pursue self-publishing. Getting close now, but besides the fact that it’s terrifying, I’ve learned something else: self-publishing is HARD! Lol. October is zooming toward me like a freight train. There’s always more to do, but I guess I feel like I have the best handle on the process that’s possible with my limited bandwidth.
Congrats again! Thanks for asking after my news, for your well-wishes, and for the best lay/lie lesson I’ve ever encountered. I’m forever honored to be in your Muddle.
Oh my gosh, Vaughn. That’s amazing! I am so impressed. Over me Decade of Rejection, numerous lovely folks suggested I “just self publish.” As if that is the easier route! I knew I would be horrible at all of the millions of details, but you, renaissance man, will pull it off with your usual grace. You’ve got this, and on days when that doesn’t feel true, WU has you!
Thank you Sarah, and another congratulations.
This piece had me laughing, shivering (way to work an opening line!), and nodding at its insight all at once. But it also struck me as all too apt, since I’m about to release the first of the first of the casefiles for Adrian Corbin, with an encounter between him and “the Scarecrow.” –Two names I picked before I saw what I’d done, and then I had to explain them.
It all seems right, on a primeval level. Or at least crow-magnon.
Sorry, Ken. I posted this below … instead posting a reply. Duh. Reposting here. :)
Ken! Thank you! I just shared crow-magnon with my husband, creator of “crownouns,” and he laughed out loud (as did I).
You were a motorcycling librarian! That is even more impressive than a rocket scientist/brain surgeon. I mean, how do you carry a library on a motorcycle? Huge sidecar? ;)
Your website is fantastic as it reveals your passion, your writing skills, and your storytelling prowess. Huge congratulations to you! Keep us posted on WU as your first book comes into the world.
Thanks! It’s always good to know a pun has groan up right, and that the website is doing its job.
(As to how to carry a library on a motorcycle… Kindle.)
Atta boy! I’m a middle school Language Arts teacher … my students find my sense of humor punishing. ;)
Kindle! Brilliant. :)
Thank you for a great read. I look forward to enjoying your novel! Congratulations.
I’ve never been crow-slapped, but have been dive-bombed by smaller, fiercer corvids: blue jays. They attacked anyone approaching the mulberry bush in my front yard when it was fruiting. My otherwise fearless cat refused to go outside during mulberry season.
Oh gosh, this reminds me of my childhood (in CA) when the stellar jays would get drunk on the fermented pyracantha berries. It was both sad and hysterical to see them totter-wobbling about on the ground like wasted frat boys (no offense, frat boys). Were your jays protecting their fermenting stash? Or their babies? I love how these fearless birds can make fearless cats cower. The crows in our hood have been known to go after the bald eagles that roost nearby. Badass!
We should probably get helmets to wear during fledgling and fruiting season. Thank YOU for taking the time to comment (and for sharing your empathy).
Best Post of the Year!
In order:
My two writing-related fears: (1) that I, like Keats, “may cease to be/before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain” and (2) that my brain will cease to teem.
Never been crow-slapped. Perhaps crows are aware that their cousin Raven is my totem animal. Ravens are willing to converse with me in their language. Their characteristic chuckles when we talk back and forth are undoubtedly aimed at my inferior accent.
Still have all my bunions, alas (or A-A-A-K!).
Crawl under the covers. Next time I’ll try the raven screech on fear, depression, and sorrow.
Dear Anna. Unless you are a teenager with very painful bunions, I cannot recommend this surgery. I did my left foot in 2016, so I knew what was coming, but it’s a crummy recovery, one that is hard to explain to the bunion-free.
I have a feeling your brain will never case to teem! How could it? And if you are temporarily unteemed, rely on your freakishly smart ravens … as they can practically do calculus, I bet they can be your temporary ghost writers until your brain’s ready to teem again.
Thank you, Anna, for this fab comment … and for making me laugh.
:)
Ken! Thank you! I just shared crow-magnon with my husband, creator of “crownouns,” and he laughed out loud (as did I).
You were a motorcycling librarian! That is even more impressive than a rocket scientist/brain surgeon. I mean, how do you carry a library on a motorcycle? Huge sidecar? ;)
Your website is fantastic as it reveals your passion, your writing skills, and your storytelling prowess. Huge congratulations to you! Keep us posted on WU as your first book comes into the world.
Sarah, wow! Congratulations on the book sale and may this be the first of many!!! Yes, there are fears that come with publication too and perhaps it’s the reason I’m perpetually revising my historical, though last year I sent out two queries and is it sad that I’m a little relieved not to have heard back?
By the way, an owl came after my husband when we were walking in the woods. It was still daylight. Back when we were still living in WA–seems like a lifetime ago. Now it’s barefoot on the beach. Speaking of, going barefoot for as long as possible might help with foot problems. My husband ran across this: https://www.theessentialmother.com/blog-2/barefoot-shoes-and-healed-feet?rq=feet
He always finds the best things (he bought the shoes; I bought the book). Love your husband’s contribution too–crownouns had me laughing. Love and laughter can drive out fear, no? Thank you.
Dear Vijaya,
So great to see you again! Where are you living now (if you care to share)? We are having the coldest spring-summer in years. People are grumpy, but I actually like it … no A/C means our house becomes a hot yoga studio. Ugh.
I cannot imagine the terror of having an owl come after me! They are beautiful and fierce … like a lot of nature, I suppose.
I hope you are well and happy and writing. Thanks so much for the comment … love and laughter is the best antidote to fear. :)
We moved to sunny SC 11 yrs ago…I still remember the pleasure of that first soak in the Atlantic–it was bathwater warm! So different than the lakes fed by snowmelt in WA. I am well, my skin soft from the humidity, and happy to have raised two kids to adulthood, one who makes his living as a writer :) I’m still writing too. JOY! Must remember when fear rears its head. I’ll look forward to reading your book when it’s out.
Of course! I knew you were in SC now … and your kids are adults! No easy feat … my son is 19 and my daughter is nearly 18. Parenting adult children is an adventure … one that I was not warned about until too late. And you have a writer-child! That’s fabulous … and just as fabulous is that YOU are writing.
My book turned into a middle grade novel, so while few WU’ers are my target audience, maybe WU’ers have reading middle schoolers in their life.
Thanks, Vijaya. Happy summer!
Your book is MG?!!! That’s wonderful. They can be a captive and captivated audience!!! Enjoy!!!
Two things:
1. Congratulations – that’s AWESOME!
2. “Crownouns” wins the internet today. Hands down. Or would it be beaks down? Tough call…
Dear Keith. “Beaks down” for sure. “Wings down” sounds like the crows are landing, so that’s confusing, plus it reminds me of the scene in So I Married an Axe Murderer … “Piper down! We have a piper down!” https://youtu.be/L1DGPENoKhY
Thank you for your encouragement. It means so much coming from you.
:)
Thank you for this post, which had me laughing and crying all at the same time. As a she/her “Carol”, though, I would suggest “Carroll” as the best Crowname to keep your Crownouns neutral. :) Congratulations and I can’t wait for your book!
Carol! I cannot believe I went with Carole instead of Carroll! I don’t know why I spaced on that … I have a friend named Carroll (a woman) who her whole life has been mistaken for a male.
I am temped to go back and change it …
Thank you for your kind comment and the encouragement, Ms. Crownin! ;)
I went back and changed it to Carroll. It would have bugged me ALL day! ;)
Sarah, the crowbells caw for thee (and me). Many, many years ago, I was given a vinyl LP from a friend of vintage recordings of various oddities. The friend, knowing I was an oddity, was interested in my reaction to one of the recordings, a hunter’s guide in which the quavery line, “Once you kill your first crow, keep killing crows,” stood out. I use that line to this day, for things like when it’s time to do laundry.
Crows are notorious swoopers if their maternal interests are threatened (and by threatened, I mean owning an album about serial crow killing). You were a mad duck to feed them, of course. One other short story: my young cat cornered a mouse in my house one day, and the mouse responded by raising up on its hind legs and fixing its forelegs in a boxing position. My cat was so confounded by this he could only stare. I grabbed the mouse and tossed it onto the lawn in our backyard, and in a moment, truly a moment, a bluejay descended on it and began pecking it furiously, until the both ran/flew out of sight. We are all animals.
I am so delighted to read your great writing again, and to hear about the book. Feed those fears Wheat Thins every day.
Dear Tomoddity. SO great to see your name here. I have missed WU … just haven’t been able to juggle teaching (in a pandemic, especially) with anything else. I love being back.
We ARE all animals. We like to think we are superior, but one just has to look at the news to see that the animal world has its act together far better than the human world.
But anyway.
I see why laundry makes you think of, “Once you kill your first crow, keep killing crows.” For me though, it makes me think of my face wrinkles and how I need to vacuum my car EXCEPT I cannot yet put weight on my dumb, sad, swollen foot.
I think I’m going to write “Once you kill your first crow, keep killing crows” on a piece of paper and tape it to the fridge. My kids are home this summer, and I think that will scare them into vacuuming the car.
High five to you, amigo! Thank you for the note and the laugh. You always make me do that!
Congrats, congrats, congrats! I am so excited and happy for you. And I love this post. I have always wanted a little crow pal to leave me shiny things. I have never been strafed by one, but I have been dive bombed by a mockingbird and I have scared a hawk into letting go of one of my chickens. The hawk and I are no longer pals.
Dear Liz. I am loving your beautiful book! OMG, it’s amazing! And, so happy for your news of the UK deal. I’m so happy for you.
Did the chicken survive? How did you scare the hawk? I like to imagine you were out there with a badminton racket and some angry cussing. And maybe some Yanni on full volume.
Thanks so much for the note. xo!
If your novel is as wonderful as your post, Fear Not! You’re going to do very well.
So kind, Bob. Thank you. And I so appreciate you taking the time to leave a note. Happy writing to you!
Sarah, where the hell have you been? I’ve searched for you on Twitter, and when I saw you here today, I wanted to shout, Bravo. First, congrats on your book news, so awesome. Blessings do wander in the book world and sometimes settle on the chosen. So happy that you are one of them. The other exclamation I would make in regards to your post–crows have a role in my FOREVER novel. They come and go, are messengers aiding and complicating mystery, because they are very intelligent birds. So again, congrats. Delighted to see you here. I am now a substitute contributor, a great honor. So hope to see (read) you again soon, Beth
Dear Beth,
I laugh-snorted when I read your first line. I had to take a break from WU (I went back to teaching at a too-demanding school) and I couldn’t juggle everything … and then the pandemic hit. But I’m back (every other month), and I’m thrilled to be here. I have really missed you all.
Thank you for your beautiful words about blessings and crows. Both are magical and surprising. I am SO happy you are a contributor. Warms my heart! And now I’ll be able to start reading posts (like yours!) again.
xoxo!
My mother-in-law’s backyard crows will strafe her on occasion, but mine rarely take or leave anything. One exception — a tiny, clean, perfectly intact squirrel skull left next to the water dish. I couldn’t decide if it was a present or a threat, so I decided to treat it like both. What a great story–thanks for sharing it! And congrats on the book!
Oh my gosh, Tina! It was absolutely a gift!
My funny friend, Joy, is also a Friend to Crows–her husband even rescued a young one that got its head stuck between the slats in one of their Adirondack chairs! To thank Joy and her husband for her food and his act of heroism, the crows killed one of the ruckus-causing moles in their garden. The crow left it for them a gift. I mean, it’s the thought that counts, right?
But seriously, a squirrel skull! That’s absolutely amazing. Can’t you just see them sitting around, talking, trying to figure out what to give you? I bet the top three options were Kevin’s bottle cap, Augustus’ lucky snail shell, and Bonnie’s squirrel skull. One of them suggested brand new AirPods that James, one of the elder crows, had found at the pool back in May, but they ALL agreed Humans don’t need to stick things in their ears. Humans need squirrel skulls.
Seriously, you are SO lucky! And thank you for the kind comment.
;)
First of all, congratulations! No mean feat to find both agent and publisher, regardless of timeframe.
Secondly, I miss the crows of my front yard in Carlsbad, CA. I fed them every day and got to know their personalities and idiosyncrasies well, especially the head crow who was first into the bird feeder in the tree to line up three peanuts in their shells in a neat row in his beak before flying away. I didn’t put out so many that I was besieged by a black cloud of doom. I think it was just one extended family, who came every day. In contrast to your fraught existence of theft and carnage, my crows didn’t steal or maim anything; in fact, they left me little gifts once in a while, including a decorative stainless steel spoon. I worry about the crows since I’ve been gone. Do they wonder what happened to me or did they just move on?
And third, because apparently I lived such a crow-immersed life, I “rescued” a crow in our backyard once. He was just wobbling around on the ground, seemingly unable to fly. I worried he would be eaten by hawks, so I picked him up and took him to the wildlife rescue center, where they gently advised me that he was a teenage crow who hadn’t yet developed his adult wings and being on the ground was part of his training, carefully watched over by family from above. I took him back to where I found him. I love that they are part of an extended family and look out for one another, even if that means occasionally swooping down on unsuspecting humans who are too close to their hatchlings.
This post is a delight–and also sad and hopeful and inspiring, no mean feat to accomplish in one post. And like everyone else, “crownouns” killed me–bravo, husband. Brava, you. Thanks for sharing.
Man, I’ve missed the special combo of humor, witticism and wisdom that comprise a Callender post. And as the British are wont to say, I’m chuffed for your book deal, Sarah. Can’t wait to read it.
Thankfully, I have escaped crow-slapping to date. That’s possibly due to your previous posts, though. In nesting season, I now hasten past corvids with an averted gaze. Plus, I’ve hired a bodyguard in the form of my black lab, Betty, who is diligent in keeping all Carroll’s at bay, whatever their crownouns.
i love this