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Jeanette’s 2023 Year in Books
Take a look at Jeanette’s Year in Books. The long, the short—it’s all here.
Jeanette LeBlanc’s Followers (115)
3,892 books
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4,056 friends
396 books
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114 friends
1,584 books
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53 friends
101 books
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192 friends
1,581 books
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86 friends
829 books
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37 friends
394 books
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94 friends
284 books
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649 friends
More friends…
Jeanette LeBlanc
Goodreads Author
Born
in Halifax, Canada
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
June 2012
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/jeanetteleblancwriter
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Jeanette LeBlanc
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You Are Not Too Much: Love Notes on Heartache, Redemption & Reclamation
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Wild Heart Writing: A 30-Day Course to Rediscover Your Deepest Truths
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
How Do You Know If It’s Time To Write Your Book?
Tell the truth: how many times has someone told you “My god, you need to write a book”?
How many times have you thought it yourself?
How often do you lay awake at night, dreaming of seeing your words laid out on the page?
How many times have you wondered what would change if you let loose the story that has been building inside you?
How often do you wish you had the support, knowledge, and space to b
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Jeanette’s Recent Updates
“Grief and rage--you need to contain that, to put a frame around it, where it can play itself out without you or your kin having to die. There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you--may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn't that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life. Within it you watch [yourself] act out the present or possible organization of your nature. You can be aware of your own awareness of this nature as you never are at the moment of experience. The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours.”
...more Anne Carson |
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“Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.”
Anne Carson |
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“There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn’t that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life. Within it you watch [yourself] act out the present or possible organization of your nature. You can be aware of your own awareness of this nature as you never are at the moment of experience. The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours.”
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“Out there somewhere there is a love who will never dream of calling you too much. Who speaks, like you, in poetry and candlewax and stardust. Who runs outside on stormy nights to howl at the moon. Who collects bones and sings incantation and talks to the ancestors. And that lover, when you find him or her, will see you and know you – just as you are and just as you should be.
And they will say yes. Yes, you. I will go there with you. I have been waiting for this.”
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And they will say yes. Yes, you. I will go there with you. I have been waiting for this.”
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“Butterflies are beautiful, but the process of emerging from the chrysalis and spreading your wings can hurt like fucking hell. But still, you will survive the transformation (over and over again) and you will fly. Remember this when it hurts the most. This is the metamorphosis, the going down to liquid, and the rising again. It’s no joke – but damn, it’s one hell of a journey.”
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“I’ve lost my wild heart once. Twice. Too many times to count.
I’ve lost her most often when I’ve forgotten myself, when I’ve denied my own truths, when I’ve pushed down the need to create for so long that my heart...she finds better things to do.
The funny thing is, that the losing and the finding are interwoven.
We must lose our wild hearts from time to time, I believe.
We must so that we know why we need them.
We must so that we remember that in order to be found we must go into the wilderness.
Sometimes, it is only in the getting lost that we can find our way back home.”
― Wild Heart Writing: A 30-Day Course to Rediscover Your Deepest Truths
I’ve lost her most often when I’ve forgotten myself, when I’ve denied my own truths, when I’ve pushed down the need to create for so long that my heart...she finds better things to do.
The funny thing is, that the losing and the finding are interwoven.
We must lose our wild hearts from time to time, I believe.
We must so that we know why we need them.
We must so that we remember that in order to be found we must go into the wilderness.
Sometimes, it is only in the getting lost that we can find our way back home.”
― Wild Heart Writing: A 30-Day Course to Rediscover Your Deepest Truths
“I'll never forget how the depression and loneliness felt good and bad at the same time. Still does.”
― The Portable Henry Rollins
― The Portable Henry Rollins
“Someday, I would like to go home. The exact location of this place, I don't know, but someday I would like to go. There would be a pleasing feeling of familiarity and a sense of welcome in everything I saw. People would greet me warmly. They would remind me of the length of my absence and the thousands of miles I had travelled in those restless years, but mostly, they would tell me that I had been missed, and that things were better now I had returned. Autumn would come to this place of welcome, this place I would know to be home. Autumn would come and the air would grow cool, dry and magic, as it does that time of the year. At night, I would walk the streets but not feel lonely, for these are the streets of my home town. These are the streets that I had thought about while far away, and now I was back, and all was as it should be. The trees and the falling leaves would welcome me. I would look up at the moon, and remember seeing it in countries all over the world as I had restlessly journeyed for decades, never remembering it looking the same as when viewed from my hometown.”
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“I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.”
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