I’ve been thinking back to the time I started this blog. I was looking for a way to get into the flow of my creativity. I didn’t know what I wanted to write and I hadn’t even the slightest idea of what form my writing would take, let alone the subject. I knew I was passionate about poetry, and books and a whole host of incredibly eclectic topics. But what I wanted to do, and write about, I hadn’t a clue. So I jumped in and created Bring a Book to Bed Day! in 2008 (which was both a lot of fun, and a lot of work – that I hardly seemed to notice.) I believe it is always a good thing to begin something new by celebrating and what could be better than spending a cold February day in bed reading. That sounds like a great celebration to me! Then the following April, I created 30 Days/30 Poets in honor of National Poetry Month. I shared with you 30 of my favorite poems by 30 of my favorite poets. I enjoyed re-reading (and re-living) all the poems and your reactions to them and most of all, my meeting some of the poets that were featured here. That was truly a highlight of my blogging life.

And then one day I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a long time and I realized I did have a story to tell - my story. It made so much sense to me and I started writing in an ecstatic state of inspiration – at my most inspired, I wrote four short stories in one day and started getting annoyed that I had to waste energy eating and sleeping. It took me 2-½ years to finish The Goldberg Variations and I can honestly say it was a labor of great love. Even though I knew the last line of the book, the stories themselves kept veering off in unexpected directions. Some were being written as they were happening in my life. It was an incredible - and inspired - journey. I am still a little bit in awe of it. Not to mention that I actually completed it.

When I was about mid-way through writing the book, I knew I wouldn’t have the time or energy to finish it in New York. Since I had fallen in love with my story, I decided to return to the place where my story began. I quit my job, put everything I owned in storage, gave up my Brooklyn apartment and bought a ticket to Italy where I planned to finish writing the book. There’s a funny thing about plans – they don’t always turn out the way you expect. I could not get any writing done in the small town in Italy. I had many social and emotional commitments there and honestly, I had more peace and quiet in Brooklyn.

And then another interesting thing happened. I went to visit friends in Istanbul and fell in love with the city and someone who lived in that city. That love lasted as long as a piece of micro-fiction – which is to say, not very long, but my love of Istanbul continues. I finished the book there and Istanbul and the love I discovered there found their way into my stories. I am now bursting with ideas and creative projects. In the same way that I didn’t know where this blog or writing my book would lead, I look now to my decision to return to Istanbul and make it my home. I don’t know where it will lead. I look to the past and look out to the future, and see myself now. I have to sell my things here as I don’t want to ship them overseas. I feel deep pangs about selling my bed and my books – and can’t seem to get started. It is all so exciting – and so scary too! Who knows what will happen next. Who knows where I’ll go and who I’ll meet and how it will change me. I love the idea of living in Istanbul, where east meets west, in the same way that past meets the present. And where I imagine the Alba of the past meets the Alba that is to be.