Tag goals

Spring intentions

caravanofcomposition 4 Comments

Tomorrow is the vernal equinox in the Northern Hemisphere. We will officially enter into my favorite time of year: SPRING. Around here, spring generally shows up late, or sometimes never — going straight from 30 degrees to 70 and skipping over the lovely mild temperatures in between. Our first week is predicted to hover in the high 30’s with plenty of sun. Cue the cabin fevered Buffalonians emerging from their snow cocoons. In shorts.

But enough about the weather. What I love about spring is the opportunity to start new. Forget new year’s resolutions; they never stick. Our bodies are deep in hibernation on January 1, immersed in a time when we take things slowly, draw inward, and fight to stay warm. Now is the time to resolve to live life fuller; the days are getting longer, the sun has escaped its cloud prison, and the Earth sends an invitation to change in the form of robins and daffodils.

This morning I did a yoga practice specific to the spring equinox, meant to wake up the body. The instructor asked her virtual class to set intentions and I thought, what better way to set my intentions than to post them here on my blog where I can refer back and perhaps even be held accountable by my friends and followers.

My spring intentions:

  • Keep my body healthy and strong (and hopefully pain-free!)
  • Make time every week to write
  • Be present in the moment

I need to focus on my health and change what I can control because there are days when the pain from endometriosis is more than I can bear. So I’m trying a new approach and hopefully it will be one I can stick with and see some results. As for writing, that is always part of my goal list because it is something I seek to continually improve. Right now I am querying my second novel and the steady flow of rejection has been a bit heart breaking. But I’m not ready to give up on the idea of my stories being out in the world and know that I have to keep writing and make it part of my weekly routine. Lastly, I vow to be more present, especially when I’m with family and friends. To savor all moments, from the blissful to the mundane. Life is too short to exist solely for our to-do lists.

Bloom away little flowers. Embrace the longer days, the warm sunshine. Decide what needs to change in your life and change it. Now is the time. Happy spring, everyone.

Waiting for the muse

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Words to describe me: mom, wife, friend, counselor, household manager, volunteer, health nut, writer. Notice where writer falls on the list. As something that brings me joy but also a fair amount of heartache, it easily slips to the bottom of who I decide to be each day. And when I do carve out time for writing, it’s often in small, interrupted patches, and the muse doesn’t always show up. (Translation: one hour dedicated to writing = 45 minutes on the web/social media/my phone/not writing + 15 minutes staring at a blinking cursor/not writing.)

I know what they say. Get your butt in the chair and put the time in if you want to make something of yourself as a creative person. So I convinced the family to turn our guest room into a writing office. Bought a new desk. Surrounded myself with inspirational things and books and lots of sticky notes. My job is only three days a week, which means I have two whole days to write while the kids are at school. All of the ingredients needed to crank out some amazing stuff.

Reality: See that list above? I volunteer at my son’s school several times a month and serve as committee chair for our local scout pack. I use one of the free days to grocery shop/meal prep/clean. I procrastinate under the guise of keeping up my social media presence. (Translation: waste time worrying whether or not people I’ll never meet will like my mildly witty tweet.)

When I do get my butt in the chair at my beautiful desk that is often covered with all things not related to writing, I worry. Worry about my stories and whether or not they will ever sell. Worry about the words coming out of my brain, especially when they seem stuck somewhere between there and my fingertips. Worry about all of the other things I should be doing, like cleaning out the basement or snuggling with the cat.

I recently read that you should carve out the same place/time each day and your muse will show up because he/she/they will know where to find you. Makes sense. John Cleese has a great video about how we need to allow ourselves time to get into the creative space in our mind, which for the modern writer may mean browse social media, search for the perfect playlist, make/purchase a comforting mug of your favorite warm beverage. The thing is, life doesn’t always allow for the same place/time for writing, and we use distractions as an excuse of settling in instead of truly settling in.

Take last Wednesday for example: It is my day off from work. Writing day. YAY! But the previous Friday was a snow day, so I had to go into work to make up the missing hours. It’s also usually the night I meet up with my writing group, but my older son has started indoor soccer practice at an elementary school on Wednesday nights with no place to sit and work. I decide to bring my laptop and find someplace nearby to write.

6:55 Drop son off at practice. Drive to nearby store with café.
7:00 Scope out the space and wait for barista to finish previous person’s order.
7:05: Order a cup of tea, decide on a small dessert, chat with barista.
7:10 Fire up computer, log into wifi, check twitter, tweet about how warm it is.
7:20 Log into library site, look for music to stream.
7:25 Open document, read last few pages, stare into space trying to decide what to write next.
7:35 Start writing.
7:50 Realize we need milk at home and if I want to buy some and get back to pick up son by 8:00 I need to wrap things up.

Fifteen minutes of writing. I wrote about 300 words. That’s the problem. Sometimes it takes so long to get all the other crap out of the way that when I actually start to feel the muse show up, it’s time to stop. At home, this may mean someone/thing requires my attention, or I wasted five and a half hours doing other things and now it’s almost time to get my son from school. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve managed to make it work at other times, like when the boys practice at the athletic center that not only has no wifi, but there’s a dead zone so even data on my phone doesn’t work. Just one hour of no distractions—buckle down and get some words on the page already—writing time.

Every writer I know has a list of other things that require their attention and responsibility. And often making the choice to write means you are sacrificing something else. Made worse by the fact that you may sit there, missing whatever it is you’ve chosen not to do, and stare at the screen. Waiting.

Don’t give up on your muse. Do what you need to do to get into the zone, even if that leaves only a handful of minutes for writing. I beat myself up the other night about only getting 300 words down, but hey, that’s 300 more than I had when the night started. And now I know the routine of that particular place and can change my approach next time.

I daydream about the possibility of giant chunks of uninterrupted writing time, just me and my muse, hanging out, telling stories. But reality can be cruel, and it forces me to figure out how to make it work when I can if I want to bump writer up the list. I do. Because, heartaches aside, it feels good to be in the zone. There’s really nothing else quite like it.

Lessons from the Olympics

caravanofcomposition 5 Comments

Hubs is an Olympics junkie. The past few mornings I’ve found him camped out on the couch watching curling on the Canadian network, and we’ve spent the last two nights cheering on the American snowboarders. The women’s competition was amazing to watch, and we all celebrated Chloe Kim’s incredible run. Although I couldn’t help but notice her teammate, Maddie, who gave it her all but fell on her runs and was left out of medal contention. The camera briefly followed her as she walked away, and I said to my son, “Imagine feeling so completely crushed and disappointed, and then having to face the media and maintain composure when all you want to do is cry.”

Then I started to think about all the times in my life when I’ve been disappointed, passed over, rejected– whether or not I’d faced those moments with grace and composure. Probably not. I’m a crier, and you better believe that if I had worked my butt off to get to the Olympic stage and missed the mark, I would have been a blubbery mess. These two weeks are full of excitement, of winning and medals and dreams come true. But they are also full of disappointments. We watched a replay of a Dutch speed skater who lost the gold by .003 seconds in the last Olympics. And I mentioned the gymnast whose second place off kilter smirk became a viral meme. If there is anything to be learned when in the public eye: be careful with your facial expressions. (And also your fingers. A recent google search turned up a controversy over another speed skater allegedly flipping off his opponent.)

Life is full of ups and downs. Of triumphs and disappointments. I’m from Buffalo, we know that all too well around here. Thankfully, most of us are able to express ourselves in the privacy of our own space, away from prying media eyes and flashing cell phone cameras. And I’m all for getting ragey/crying when your heart is crushed, but there is something to be said about handling it with grace. Especially when it comes to online behavior. I’ve seen posts from agents about how authors respond to rejection with hateful words and disrespect. That, my friends, will get you no where but black listed and openly mocked on Twitter. Keep a private journal instead. Or a diary on your phone where you rant about how unfair a decision feels. Whatever you do, don’t hit send.

The other thing I find remarkable about watching the Olympics is the spirit of persistence. Athletes who fall mid-run but then get up and finish it to the end. Those who have come back from injuries stronger and full of resolve. There’s an overwhelming sense of determination I think us everyday couch-surfing observers can apply to our own lives. Whatever your dream, big or small, don’t give up on it. Put the time in each and every day to make it happen, and believe that it is possible. Don’t let excuses get in your way. Failure happens. Falls happen. Disappointments happen. And I’m here to tell you: it sucks. But at least you don’t have cameras following you around and asking you how it felt to have your dreams squashed to bits.

You will succeed. Chances are it won’t be the gold medal, and maybe not at all what you expected. But success is available to everyone. And it will be all the sweeter because of what you had to do to keep getting back up over and over again.

November book report

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I know, I know, it’s eighteen days into December. But good news: I finished my yearly reading goal!

goal
And I couldn’t let a month slip past without giving a shout-out to all the wonderful words that entered my brain in story form. November was a very YA/Middle grade focused month. In fact, I didn’t read a single “adult” book.

Glimpse by Carol Lynch Williams
Another verse book recommended by my editor friend. This one did not make me cry, but it certainly tugged at the heart. It is a story of two sisters, one of whom struggles with mental illness, and it reminded me of Stop Pretending by Sonya Sones. Be warned, there are suicide attempts and abuse, some of which was quite difficult to read. I had a hard time with the mother character, but overall enjoyed the quality of verse and story telling.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi
Oldest read this book with his class, and I had promised him back in the day that anything he was assigned I would also read so that we could discuss it together. We’ve read a few Avi books together – he is an excellent story teller. The book is fast paced and full of girl power adventure. Critics argued that the character shift was not believable, and while my son and I concurred, we both enjoyed watching her go from prim stuck-up to edgy risk-taker. Fans of Treasure Island would enjoy this read.

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech
Here is my review from Goodreads: I recently read Walk Two Moons with my oldest son. It was not my first time reading it. Not my second. Not my third. It was probably the 20th time I’ve read this book, and I cry EVERY TIME. It is a beautiful, moving story about family, friendship, loss, and love. And so much more. If you’ve never read it, you should. Read it alone. Read it to your child. Read it to your pet. Just read it. And have tissues handy.

My youngest reported that his teacher was reading WTM during silent reading time, so I mentioned it during conferences. She had never read it before and asked if it would be okay to share with third graders. It’s not (IMO). There are some seriously heavy parts to this book. I used to read it with 7th graders and feel it would be appropriate for 10+.

Liar & Spy by Rebecca Stead
I loved When You Reach Me. The “mystery” in this one was a bit more obvious (I had it figured out right away), but it was still a great read aloud with my younger son. We both enjoyed the MC’s voice and the various characters, especially the neighbors with their unique names and personalities.

Stay Where You Are and Then Leave by John Boyne
Another book chosen because I loved the first one I read by the author. In this case, it was The Boy in the Striped Pajamas – a total tear-jerker that left me sobbing in my work parking lot last year. (Note: Read the book over watching the movie. Far superior.) Stay Where You Are and Then Leave is another excellent, beautifully woven war story. It deals with PTSD before it was recognized as a mental illness and taps into the heartache of missing a family member. The audio book version is worth a listen, and again I would recommend it for 10+ due to the issues addressed.

Make Lemonade by Virginia Euwer Wolff
I listened to this verse book on my phone and worry that not seeing the poems may have altered my appreciation a bit. The story is about a young girl trying to make money for college who takes on a job babysitting for a single mom struggling with poverty. It was good, but after trying a few other verse books in audio format and giving up, I’ve decided it may be better to stick with print.

All The Broken Pieces by Ann E. Burg
A verse book about finding out who you are and dealing with demons from your past. Deals with post-Vietnam War adoption in a way that didn’t make me want to throw the book across the room (I can be a bit touchy about adoption in literature). Many of the poems were raw and beautiful. It hasn’t been my favorite verse book, but I’d definitely recommend it.

So far, my December reading has been a bit sparse. But I plan to spend some quality time during the holidays wrapped up with a good book. Happy reading, everyone!