"Mountain Climbing, Micro-Brews, and Mandolins"




Goddess Pregnancy Photos
by rsthurston photography
*Feel free to leave comments below the slideshow~
September 20th, 2011
"To be pregnant is to be vitally alive, thoroughly woman, and undoubtedly inhabited."
Anne Buchanan & Debra Klingsporn
It's crazy to think that not only are some of my oldest and dearest Santa Barbara girlfriends now married and with kids but a few of them are on their second and third little ones. It's a beautiful thing to watch a fellow woman grow from who she was as a single entity to growing into a wife and mother. My dear friend (who wishes to remain unnamed but is pleased to share these artful images with others) has been in my life since the first year I moved to Santa Barbara. I was fresh off the river from years of living in a tent...my Chevy Blazer packed to the gills with most of my living possessions.
She had just moved here from Oregon and was beginning an equally exciting adventure and chapter in her life.Those were the days when we didn't know the difference from the Eastside and the Westside or the Riviera from the Mesa. We were just happy to have a roof over our heads and a little piece of green out our backdoors. I lived off of plastic plates and ate on a coffee table stitched together from plywood and bricks for the first year. My girlfriend "G" and I paddled outrigger together, partied with sailors, went to music festivals, and lived the free-spirited lifestyle of 20-something women unfettered by commitment, mortgages, or a biological clock.
In short, them were some fun days...

I look now at how much our lives have changed. I definitely couldn't fit all that I own into an SUV anymore and I'm a lot pickier about the plates I eat off of and the neighborhood I live in. She's married now to a sweet engineer with a Midwestern raising and taste for travel and good art. They're on their third child now but seem to maintain a closeness with each other as if they were just entering their first year of marriage together.
While we both acknowledge the incredible times we had here during the "good ole days," I doubt either one of us would trade where we're at now. I've discovered a serenity and blissfulness here in Santa Barbara that I never knew when I was moving every three months and living out of tupperware.
And my girlfriend has grown into this amazing, radiant, calm, and collected wise, sexy wife and mother. To see the woman who I once danced on bartops with and lost at a music festival in the High Sierras becoming this pregnant goddess is truly an unimaginable transition yet it just feels right. Girlfriends like her are blazing the way for me in the next chapter of my life...
We're blessed to be the women that we are. And as the old saying goes...."You can never step in the same river twice." But why should we? It's a magnificent, heart-wrenching, and beautiful journey this life of ours....and I wouldn't trade any of it.
The adventure of motherhood awaits....
We had fantastic timing, by the way, with this shoot. "G" gave birth only a week after these photos were taken....her precious little one was born on a Sunday morning...hence the title of the soundtrack I chose by Maroon 5 which I thought fit the mood purrfectly....Enjoy!

I’ve had many friends over the years ask me exactly what happens at a writers conference. Do we merely sit and listen to Harry Potter readings? Do we rate our favorite classics
or compare our wish lists for our dream publishers and book tour stops? I mean, what could we possibly find to fill a week’s worth of a conference?
Writing is after all, a solitary pursuit, isn’t it?
The conference takes place for five days every year but what happens between the Saturday opening night and the closing awards dinner on Thursday is a universe unto itself. Founder Barnaby Conrad once declared on an opening night “You will begin this conference as one person and end it as another.” And indeed the conference will change your life in many unexpected ways.

The nuts and bolts of the week are this: There are morning, afternoon, and evening workshops on everything from poetry to non-fiction magazine writing to screenwriting and literary fiction. There are panels of publishers, editors, and agents, meetings with manuscript consultants and mind-blowing readings by internationally renowned writers like Clive Cussler, T.C. Boyle and in years past Ray Bradbury, James Michener, and Fannie Flagg. There’s the annual Talent Show which once began as a renegade group of writers looking to let off some steam but which has now grown into a sanctioned smorgasbord of unexpected talent (the only rule being that no one read their work). Then there are all of the social events throughout the week: the wine and cheese party, the opening and closing dinners and roaming about in the conference bookstore.

But the most indelible moments of the conference are truly the moments stolen between….that chance meeting with another kindred spirit whose feedback you truly admire in one of your favorite workshops who just happens to live in your same town and who is looking to start a writers group. Or that amazing conversation with a new friend about the latest vampire craze over carne asada burritos and a horchata for lunch on Milpas. Or it’s that shared can of Pringles with that dry-witted fiction writer from Hawaii whom you adore but you only manage to see once a year.
We manage to steal hours of sleep when we can and we remember to eat only when our blood sugar reaches dangerously low levels and we realize that filled cups from Starbucks can’t sustain a human for longer than a day or two.
I’ve found over my past seven years with the conference that writers will only surprise you. I’ve seen a young guy from the Bronx recite children’s poetry, a grandmother read surprisingly titillating erotica, and a late 40-ish schoolteacher share her horror short story to a rapt class.
There are no rules among writers. You can be any shape, shape, size, or age. We are drawn together by our love of the craft and our friendships are forged based on these connections.
In fact, I met one of my best friends (who continues to travel here for the conference from Connecticut) during a lecture at the conference many years ago. (She happened to have sat beside me at one of the public lectures many years ago and I convinced her in true Rachel-Fashion that if she truly considered herself a writer that she needed to commit to coming to the conference the following year as an attendee. She came the next year and has only missed one year since then.)
I am also quite sure that many romances have come about because of the conference. A few break-ups and strained marriages as well. ;)
By mid-week the days have begun melting into each other and the microverse of SBWC has managed to consume us completely. Sure our pets still need to be fed, our partners are beginning to feel neglected (*see above) but our bills can wait and so can those inboxes that seem to be filling up without end.
We don’t know it right away but at some point towards the end of the week when we realize we have to leave and that our world is coming to a close that we have indeed changed. Sure the caffeine, the sleep deprivation, and the copious amounts of Cheetos and Cliff Bars have taken their toll on our reserves. But something else has shifted. We’ve spent one precious week dedicated to our craft. We’ve surrounded ourselves with an incredible group of men and women—many of whom would never have met without the conference--and reminded ourselves for that short, fluid moment in time that we’re not alone and that we do have a community.
But more importantly, we are reminded of something even more precious. That we are writers. And that we are all striving for perfection….One. Word. At. A.Time.