On Magic and Impossibility

Or, “The good news and the bad news . . . .”

And, because I remain an eternal pragmatic optimist, I’m going to talk about the bad news first.

The Bad News

You need to realize a few things.

For example, that we (liberals in the midst of this Presidency) are expecting we can achieve the impossible. (How very, very American: hubristic AND stubbornly clinging to dreams.)

By “impossible,” what I mean is what no other human civilization has ever been able to do in the history of human civilizations. None survives everything. They all reach a peak and then fall way. They end. Through all sorts of dramas and traumas and combinations of circumstances that lead to the end of that thing. In fact, of everything that has ever lived on this Earth. Every plant. Every animal. Every very large group of those things.

They/we all die.

Then, in some other form, things come back and start the process all over again.

I am not saying that this Presidency is necessarily going to be the death of us. But it’s possible. Because that is what has happened over and over and over again in human history. And things are looking bizarre and dark enough to raise these questions. As in, “Will this be the time and place where this particular human civilization reaches its end point (and then another comes along eventually to replace it)?”

Is this where we are in the cycle?

It could be.

We don’t know.

We will try what we will try. And the historical facts (you can call this “fake news” if you don’t like it and don’t want to hear it and doing so makes you feel better) are that, at some point, the end comes.

Next . . . .


Yes, I am in fact shouting that. Because I am so tired of people either not reading what I actually say in my writing (understandably, because there is waaaaay too much news, discussion, information out there overloading all of our brains),or missing the subtlety of arguments because either triggers have been raised by use of certain words related to certain subjects, or because the aforementioned overload means people only read half (or even less) of the words in a piece.

Which brings me to my next bit of bad news that you need to realize:

When you expect that we are going to be able to survive, let alone somehow peacefully end, what is looking like its shaping up to be an authoritarian dictatorship, please realize we are not going to be doing it with the fullness of our minds and resources.

We are emotionally-taxed. Freaked-out. Angry. Scared. Wondering what is our next best move for politics, for our families, for making it through sanely.

Anyone who knows anything about the workings of the human brain knows that these are not optimal conditions for difficult situations.

When we need to be listening to each other and caring for each other and making plans and acting together, we are instead operating without those parts of our brains that let us most highly-function.

We act instead like reptiles and three-year-olds. We are flying off the handle in exhaustion, fear, hopelessness and defensiveness. Even and often most especially with the people we have, until now, loved the most.

And in the midst of all this . . . we still expect ourselves to have the intellectual capacity and emotional reserves to pull off what’s never happened before: to be the superheroes who will save a particular civilization.

By the way, we are also the people who cannot stay on our diets. Who don’t write the novels we know would make us feel better if we did. Who cannot make it to the gym consistently. Who try our hardest, and still fall down, every single day.

All of us.

Me, too.

And yet we are going to save a civilization and way of life. And we will yell at each other (our friends and our family, along with our “enemies”) at every instance we perceive people are not working hard enough, or in the right way, to save the world RIGHT NOW.


Give me a break.

Give yourself a break.

Give everyone a break.

Saving the world as you know it is, at the very least, very hard work. It might, in fact, be impossible. But what is the point in trying at all if you wreck yourself and everyone you love in the struggle?

The Good News

I still think it’s possible to save the world.

And by “it’s possible,” I mean that just because it’s never happened before doesn’t mean it can’t happen some time. And I also mean that it is possible this Presidential mess can become, somehow, something different. A transformative experience that can raise us up to all kinds of new levels of being better people.

What keeps me able to operate with optimism while being fully cognizant of all the Bad News is Magic.

And by Magic, what I mean is the actual workings of Magic. Which I simply believe are workings of things that exist but that you yet don’t understand, and cannot yet wrap your brain around.

For one example: radio waves and radios.

I love and am heartened and fascinated by stories of the way that many people who did not understand how radio worked reacted to it. For instance, to the story of a very old man who told me about his very old grandma . . . who never was able to understand or trust the radio. How she could not get her brain to wrap around the fact that there WAS NOT a tiny human inside the box, singing. And how her head almost exploded the first time she heard a choir singing on the radio, because she could not understand how ALL of those tiny people fit inside the box.

How tiny they had to be!

Where is the magic?


We just don’t see it or understand yet how it works.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

Or that it’s not going to help us.

Or isn’t already.

Maybe the radio is working somehow that we just don’t yet perceive.

Maybe the people who can perceive and harness it have just not done so yet.

That does not mean it will not happen soon enough.



On Fundamentalist Voices

Things have gotten rocky.

To say the least.

What seems to be happening (as it appears to me) is that fundamentalists of all kinds all over the world have, over the past few years, begun extremely flipping out over changes in climate, society, economics, communication, civil rights, etc.

In response to massive change they perceive as threatening, what they want is to go backward.

To return to “fundamentals.”

To return to the “fundamentals” of their particular readings of all the Big Texts — constitutions and religious tracts — that explain that authoritarian structures are the only ways to make and preserve societies.

The fundamentalists also seem willing (and, by the way, also apparently hopped-up on self-righteous pride in their determination) to go to any lengths of lawlessness and destruction in their determination to go backward into the authoritarianism, same-ness, “purity,” nationionalism, exclusion, regimentation that they maintain will “protect” and “preserve” their societies/ways of life/loved ones.

What do we do about that?

Here’s what I think:

1. No one knows for sure what works, and what . . . if anything . . . can stop these guys. (You know which guys I mean. All the ones hell-bent on their own missions to “return” civilizations to “when they were great.” From the Taliban right down to the administration currently running America.)

2. Your guess, and your weariness, and your fear are therefore as good as mine about what might work in keeping us from getting the clock rolled back to the Dark Ages. (Or to the primordial muck before humans appeared on the planet.)


We gotta get real here, people.

Let’s imagine the very worst things happen: you and me and our loved ones are faced with death and destruction.

Which, when we take a breath and calm down, we gotta realize IS GOING TO HAPPEN ANY WAY. Even if we have the best President in the World in charge of The Whole World for years and years and years . . . . we all die. Anway. Every single one of us. And so do our kids. And our grandkids.

That is how the whole thing works.

And always has.


What does that mean here?

Why, that the stakes are always the same.

That there is, in essence, NOTHING different in what we face, in the cravenness and nuts-ness and hubris of fundamentalists’ threats (and actualities) in our faces right now than what we face when the world is running more to our liberal likings.

In both cases — and ALWAYS — we are mortal, no matter what. And our time and choices of how we spend our time are always necessarily limited by that simple, crucial, unalterable fact.

In either case, in any case, and in every day and every moment, the essential questions are exactly the same: Who are you and what therefore are the ways you think are important to live your one and only life?

4. And here’s where–in answering those critical questions, so that we can decide how to live our lives most purposefully and integrity-filled–we gotta watch out for more fundamentalist voices.

Our own.

We are ham-strung in this process by our own fundamentalist inner voices.

(Which, by the way, are very responsible for a key reason we get so triggered over and over and over again by all the screeds and decrees and actions of political and religious fundamentalists: we project onto them . . . the grotesque characters we see them as . . . all the hatred and fear and resentment and self-loathing that our own insecurities–fundamentalist inner voices–generate about ourselves in ourselves.)

You know your fundamentalist voices. The ones who tell you that you cannot, that you should not, that you are selfish, that you are ignorant, that you are powerless, that you are dangerous, that you are stupid, that you are misguided, that you do not adequately understand, that you are wrong . . . THAT YOU ARE SOMEHOW FUNDAMENTALLY INADEQUATE EVER TO GET BIG THINGS REALLY RIGHT . . . that you should be afraid, that your imagination and your intuition are twits that should not to be listened to.

And you know there are more.

All the negative self-talk that clutters your minutes, days, weeks, months, years.

All the voices inside that tell you, “No. You cannot do that. Do not change.”

That tell you to stay the same.

That tell you not to try.

Especially when you are doing something particularly new and brave that you have no idea how will turn out.

Like fighting against fundamentalist voices.

Unfortunately, that’s when they get the loudest.

When they feel threatened by your imminent change away from what they’ve been telling you for years. Decades.

No one wants to feel like they’re losing their position of safety, authority, control.

So, when you are feeling overwhelmed and scared in doing anything brave . . . traveling, living your life differently, creating, fighting autocrats, for examples . . . listen carefully to what kind of voices are telling you that you suck and you will fail and you won’t know enough to be able to make a difference.

That you should not go forward.

That you should not live your life in a way that others disagree with.

That other authority figures know better.

Recognize them as your inner fundamentalist voices.

The scared internal forces forces that do not want you to change.

And please, please, please . . . (yes, I am really actually kind of begging you here, on all of our behalves) . . . listen instead to the braver, kinder voices inside of you . . . and do your brave thing, anyway.

It’s all we can do.

Be radically brave and creative and committed to how we choose to live our lives.



Choose not to be afraid.

And if that’s too tall an order, choose to do–anyway–what scares you.

It’s the bravest and boldest thing you can do.

No matter what.

Which will also . . . even if you cannot always see any direct evidence of it happening, and especially not right away . . . provide a light and an example for others of How To Be Brave. Which, in its own intangible and mysterious way, helps power more and more change. And, in my book, makes us kinds of heroes.


On Overcoming the Inner Critic . . . and Other Tyrants

“I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I’m going to find out,” popped into my brain today as I was getting out of the car to go on a walk.

Let me get particularly directive here:

Pay attention to what pops into your brain this way.

Because, for example . . . .

I realized this way my/some spirit’s articulation of what I needed to hear RIGHT NOW. As a writer. Artist. Adventurer. Human on this planet.

That this is a creed.

This is the spirit of adventure and creativity. Of following your heart in a critical trust that something (I believe it’s love) is operating through you and around you that’s bigger than your Inner Critic. Bigger than your Doubt. Bigger than your Cynicism. Bigger, in other words, than any and all tyrants who seek to devalue and shut down our generative powers to create visions, moments, places . . . of beauty, of inspiration, of hope, of sanctuary, of peace.

Make stuff. Find out where it’s taking you. Go with it.


From my art journal 


On staying smaller

You see this everywhere on social media:

(I do, anyway.)

How to get 8 million followers on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, your blog. How to create an $8 million company (in a weekend). How to become fabulously successful.

The likes of Tony Robbins, Tim Ferris, et al . . . and a whole slew of other, “lesser” folks . . . tell us everywhere on social media how we can become super, super, super successful and popular (and of course, the rich that goes along with all of that).

All of which has the underlying message that WE SHOULD want that.

Because, who wouldn’t?



Well, for one, me.

Yours truly.

Which, frankly, has come as a surprise to me.

Because I actually like a lot of what folks like Tony Robbins and Tim Ferriss sell: Enthusiasm. Empowerment. Independence. Entrepreneurialism.

But you know what?

I am tired of the part of the sale that’s built on the assumption that “bigger” and “more” are better. That you are . . . at bottom, in their message . . . some kinda loser if you are not in the chase (and successful at) for gaining more and more followers, fame, effect, riches, etc.

I think it’s missing the boat. Has jumped the shark.

And, of course, I’ll explain below why.


Calder at the Whitney in New York.

First . . .

Is it, actually, really really really really important? In other words, does one have to–in order to be a valuable, successful human–make some big contribution that lots and lots of people are going to buy, follow you for, etc?


Let’s take a second to unpack that . . . .

All the humans alive now, and all that ever have been . . . did they do that?


Most of us have been almost completely anonymous to all but a very small circle of other humans.

Does that make us failures? Losers?

Under that “bigness” model of success, I guess it does. But guess what? I refuse to believe in a model whose unexamined, unarticulated underpinnings are that most of humanity, from the beginning of time, has been composed of overall failures.


Second . . . .

Let’s consider who’s famous and paid-attention-to (and, financially-richer than we are).

For instance, someone who just became POTUS. And Kim Kardashian.

As for lesser-known-but-still-“successful” humans, I turn out somehow to happen to know three or four people who were “nobody” when I first met or worked with them who have become super successful by the world’s Bigness standards.

Know what?

They’re assholes.

Maybe they were already a little bit when they were nobodies. But now that they are famous? Oh my God. They are insufferable.

This does not mean that fame and being rich are necessarily bad or corrupting things. Nor that everyone over whom Fortune waves her magic wand will necessarily become assholes.

However, it does in fact illustrate that Big does not necessarily equal other things I truly value. Like kindness. Flexibility. Accessibility. Humility. Continued experimentation in creativity. In fact, I value these a helluva  lot more than any capacity to get your contribution/personality/gifts admired en masse.

Which brings up my third point . . . .

Given the . . . uh. . . relative . . . ummm . . . bravery and cognitive and imaginative  limitations? . . . of lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of people in this culture who’ve elected such a person as President and made others like Kim K. famous and followed and rich . . . does being accepted/adored/adulated by a large percentage of people REALLY appeal to you?

And, fourth . . . .

. . . . and something that’s occurred to me more and more recently . . .

Doesn’t becoming Big put you in some kind of creative box/bind?

If you make millions of dollars and have millions of followers based on a certain kind of thing that you do . . . shouldn’t you worry that doing something different is going to disappoint or throw those people?

Hell yes you should.

Because when you become Big based on something a whole lot of people love you for . . . when you have “branded” yourself/your product that way, when you have “told that story” (because every f*cking thing about today’s marketing zeitgeist is about “telling a good story”) . . . odds are those same people are not going to recognize or follow or love you when you change that product and story. Nuh-uh. Human nature being what it is, most of those people are going to feel confused, lost and abandoned. At least disappointed. Unless you are some kind of superhuman (Bruce Springsteen, Michael Jackson and Madonna come to mind), they are not going to appreciate or follow you in your quest to keep trying and becoming something different.

Which means you are going to need to keep on creating another version of the same thing for a very long time. If you want to stay Big.

And I guess I really don’t.

Because I am not superhuman. And the older I get, the more freedom  . . . of time, schedule, whim, project, muse, creativity, wanderlust . . . has become far more important to me than What People Think About Me.

And you know what else?

THAT . . . your commitment to your freedom to follow those things . . . is something much more attainable and within your control (and satisfaction, joy and contentment) than whether you will ever have the luck and timing and other intangibles that it also takes to become Big. (Which is something Tim Ferriss and Seth Godin and Tony Robbins will never tell you or acknowledge. They sell it to you as if anyone and everyone can become famous. Which is horseshit. The nature of Fame and Big is that they are rare and also involve intangibles and are uncontrollable and unpredictable, no matter how hard you work and what you try.)

So, here’s to freedom of movement. To experimentation. To listening more to what matters to you than to trying to guess what’s going to appeal to masses you might not really like very much, anyway. To being happy and comfortable with Small as an efficient, creative, joyful, downright powerful way of being . . . instead of feeling like you are a failure if you are not Big or on a quest to become so.

Here’s to whatever way you want to play.

And Small is just fine.



NaNoWriMo Accountability Time

It’s November 30.

Which means it’s the last day of this month of National Novel/November Writing Month.

Where highly-motivated and/or crazy people join a big movement to commit to writing the first draft of a novel (generally thought of at about 50,000 words) in one month.


Which means one would write about 1,700 words each and every day of the month. Translated into the traditional “page-length” feel from when we all used to hold books in our hands and flip the pages instead of reading them on screens, this means a little over five pages a day.

You’d think maybe you could do that, right?

I have friends who’ve achieved it in other Novembers, and some who achieved it this November.

I didn’t.

Not even close.

I wanted to. I thought I would. I thought it wouldn’t even be so very daunting, compared to all the other stuff in life that is truly daunting.


It became completely apparent to me by November 3 that there was no way I could produce 1700 words a day on a novel. That my usual rate of 400 words a day when writing daily on a novel might be ramped up to 600 words a day. But that there was no way I was going to squeeze out any more. Not any day. Let alone thirty days in a row.

Did I fail?


And no.

Because I have 12,000 words of a novel that I like.

Which is a big win, compared to what was happening before.

Which was getting 20,000 words into the first draft . . . twice . . . in two completely separate drafts . . . of the first-novel-sequel I have had in mind to write for the past two years. . . and hating both of them. Because they did not sing along to me–not even close–the way the draft of the first book did. And I knew that if they weren’t singing to me, they sure as hell weren’t going to be singing to any readers, either.

So I canned them both.

And I walked completely away from the story and project a year and a half ago.

I worked on a bunch of other stuff. And left Tiberius (the narrator and main character in the first novel) completely alone.

So, now?

Finally being able to come back to these characters and their places and world and to see and hear them again in ways that make me enthralled and interested in finding out what’s next? And having a new mystery unfold in the same way the first one did . . . as I went along through writing, and in visions that would come to me suddenly during the day on walks and in dreams and insomnia at night? That’s a win. That’s success. That’s a miracle.


And I’m chugging along. And if I can do the 400 words a day every, I’ll have the first draft done by the end of February.

Which is way, way, way, way, way good enough by me.

[By the way, the word count of this post is 448. And it wrote itself, and then knew exactly where to stop.

And a further by-the-way: part of the sequel is set above. In Salona. The ancient Roman capital of Illyria/Dalmatia . . . just outside of the city of Split, in present-day Croatia.]


Cyber Monday Deals: Places to Come Write With Me!

Let me take this opportunity to entice you with a virtual coffee . . . .

. . . . to sit down, read this post, be inspired to contact me at tamaraholland@earthlink.net and sign up for one (or both) of these tasty treats.



Best. Writing. Start. Ever.

I’ll be leading three in-person Saturday writing workshops on the West Coast this January to start our 2017s off right: with a generous commitment to what wants to be written.

This can be anything from a novel idea that’s been haunting you, to family memories you want to do something with, to blog content for your business, to anything and everything else in-between.


Through a series of visualization and writing exercises, we’ll get our own deep senses of what wants to be written now, and how we’re going to build spaces in our lives for that. There’s no need to come pre-prepared with anything other than your desire. No worries about sharing actual writing in the workshop. Brief discussions after each exercise will be had . . . during which time you’ll be free to share, or absolutely free simply to listen. The workshops are for YOU and YOUR marinating writing projects–to get to know each other, and to make happy commitments to making them happen.

All three workshops will be held from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., with breaks for lunch and beverages on our own.

All three will take place in rich, warm, creatively-juicy places:

January 7: Whidbey Island, Washington . . . at the gorgeous private residence of a writer in the woods in Coupeville. Class size is limited to six participants . . . AND THERE’S ONLY ONE SPACE LEFT!

January 14: San Anselmo, California . . . at the inviting, versatile and creatively-inspiring Self-Care Studio, with about the coolest individual portable writing desk/chairs I’ve ever seen, and where we’ll be inhabiting the great, tall-ceilinged room used during weekday times for massage therapy and healing. Class size is limited to eight participants . . . AND THERE’S ONLY ONE SPACE LEFT!

January 28: San Diego, California (originally set for January 21) . . . at the sophisticated-yet-warm, European-bistro-like, neighborhood-local-feeling Mission Hills Wine Cellar, where we’ll have the place all to ourselves and sit in banquets and comfy tables perfect for imaging, envisioning and planning. (And I’ll be staying after 5:00 p.m. to drink wine and share some of their delicious platters with you.) Class size is limited to ten participants.

Cost: CYBER MONDAY DISCOUNT — I’m extending the $95 early bird sign up from November 30 to December 5. After that, cost will be $145.

Old school: you’ll simply pay in cash that day. Email me at tamaraholland@earthlink.net to reserve your space.


The Inky Path’s 2016 Winter Joy Retreat.

The folks at The Inky Path have put together another (their fifth year!) cool two-week, on-line, end-of-the-year writing retreat for all of us who feel the need for a workshop but who don’t have the time, money, energy or opportunity during December to go away to one.

This year’s theme is the travel-based “Passport to Memory.”


You can check it out here.

It starts December 5, and is conducted entirely on-line, and features guest writers as part of each day’s juicy information and prompts.

I’m proud and lucky to be one of those guest writers.

And as one, I can give you the code for a $29 discount off the $129 cost if you’ll email me at tamaraholland@earthlink.net.

And I’ll be writing along with you in the program.







Top Five Reasons I Write.


Why does one keep writing?

Given that the chances of “success” — in terms of readership, in terms of anyone in this huge world of so many words even finding ours at all, and certainly in terms of economic payoff — are, essentially, infinitesimal . . . .


Why do we do it?

The answers are probably different for everyone who does it.

Here are mine.

1. Because I love hanging out with my characters.

Let’s face it: we humans can be irritating as hell.

Even the people we love (and sometimes especially those) can bug the crap out of us.

Characters are not like that.

Characters are endlessly interesting. And not irritating. And imaginary.

With them, you go to different worlds where things are not like they are in real life.

My characters do not freak out about the elections. My characters do not post things on Facebook that drive me nuts. My characters do not make appointments with me and flake out. My characters do not make me frustrated or sad on their behalves.

Because they are imaginary.

There is none of the crap that comes along with real life.

It’s a breath of fresh air to get to hang with people that you feel extreme affection for who don’t do all things that we humans do that make us such pains in the ass.

You know how you love some characters you read so much that they feel like they are your friends, even though they don’t actually exist on this Earth?

(You know you do. You know how that feels when you are reading a book you love.)

Writing about those characters?

Even stronger.

2. Because I like finding out what my characters are saying and doing.

When I say I’m in the process of writing a new book, I get asked all the time whether I’ve “got it all plotted out” yet.

Like that’s a necessary first step.

Hell no.

Any time I’ve ever worked on a draft from that method . . . the draft sucked.



Like just putting someone . . . me, the characters, the eventual readers (if I’d put those shitty drafts out in public) through the paces.


I want to be surprised.

As one of my really, really good (as in, she’s a great writer) writer friends puts it, “How are the readers supposed to be surprised if you’re not surprised along the way?”

I don’t think most writers do this.

From the number of questions I get from other writers (interestingly, mostly dudes) about whether I’ve “got my plotting done yet,” I’m thinking not a lot of writers are willing to trust this process.

For me?

It’s the best way to go.

I do not want the responsibility of figuring it all out for all the characters. That feels too much like being a mom. I am old now and tired of being that kind of mom. I like being a grandma. “What would you like to do, kiddo?” That’s how it is with grandkids, and that’s how it is with my characters.

And it feels solid.

Love your characters so much that you trust them and you just want to write down what they tell you. As you go along is fine.

And I wish more of life was like this.

3. Because I am not the boss.

See number 2, above.

I just write down what whomever, from wherever, is telling me at the time.

4. Because I am the boss.

As in, I can do whatever the hell I want to do. And there is no one around who can, or has a stake in, telling me otherwise.

Oddly, when you are not “successful” in your writing, you get to have even more, “You are not the boss of me” ness in your writing. Because, when nothing has taken off, you have all the room in in the world to be as creative, maneuvering, nuts as you feel like being in your next go ’round.

Because you have absolutely nothing to lose.

5. Because I can’t NOT write.

This is it.

This is the main reason.

I can’t not.

I do it everywhere.

On Twitter. On Instagram. On Facebook. In novels. In blog posts. In morning pages. In journals I’ve kept since I was tiny.

Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

It’s just something I do.

It’s how I see and process and share and love the world.

It’s like blood or foods or water.

It’s part of every day, and inside of me.

I can’t not.

No matter what else in life.

That has never changed.

And the more I let it be so, and follow whatever whichever “voices” are popping into my head, wanting to be written down and shared, the better each day is.

Hands down.

Best. Writing. Start. Ever.

Placeholder Image

Start your 2017 with a generous commitment to what needs to be written!

In this one-day workshop, we’ll use writing and envisioning tools to discover what exactly is waiting for you to write it now, and how to build the time and space in your life to do it.

The exercise tools and the workshop are designed for writing projects of any kind . . . from blogs to novels, memoirs to screenplays, website content to Ph.D. theses and beyond.


For the past two decades, Tamara Holland has produced (at least) one book-length project . . . legal briefs, novels, e-books, travelogue, poetry . . . per year. She’s taught legal writing to adults, creative writing to children, and has led art-making workshops for both. A former death penalty defense attorney, she now spends her time writing back-and-forth between Croatia and California.

Dates and Locations

Choose from one of three locations on the West Coast

10:00 a.m to 5:00 p.m.

Saturday, January 7, 2017: Whidbey Island, Washington (class size limit: 6) UPDATE: ONE SPACE LEFT!

Saturday, January 14, 2017: San Anselmo, California (class size limit: 8) UPDATE: ONE SPACE LEFT!

Saturday, January 28, 2017: San Diego, California (class size limit: 10)



Early bird discount: $95 for everyone who signs up by November 30. UPDATE: Because there’s been a lot to deal with in life and the news these days . . . Early bird discount extended to those who sign up by December 15.

How to pay and register

We’re doing this the old-fashioned way: you bring cash . . . the good old green stuff . . . to the workshop and pay right there! In-person. Face-to-face. No links. No PayPal. No attenuated circumstances. Boom!

To register, email Tamara at tamaraholland@earthlink.net (yes, you have to type that into the address line yourself, instead of just clicking on anything to take you there . . . YOU CAN DO IT!) to let her know which Saturday class you want to attend.

Looking forward to sharing a January 2017 Saturday with you in creativity, productivity and fun!