Observations: November 2018

Happy Holidays, Friends!

Where have I been? Um.

The short answer is Ohio, Pittsburgh, West Virginia, Massachusetts, New York, writing a novel-in-stories, completing my Yoga Teacher Training, reworking my business, teaching leadership at OSU, writing short articles on leadership and alternative health, attending family events, and wishing I had more time to do more of all of it.

Time is of the essence, and I am realizing right now, as I write this, that I miss blogging. I miss connecting with those of you I know and those of you who happen here and read this for a few minutes instead of clicking on that latest story about the comb-over fascist, our melting planet, the new "hot" personal robot, autonomous car fatalities, or cool tricks you can teach a pet raccoon.

The last year has been elucidating in many (sometimes painful) ways. I put my writing ambitions in perspective, realizing that I am not a writer, but a person who explores the world through writing. This has enabled me to be patient as I accept my personal writing journey.

Sounds defeatist to some writers, I know, but the fact is, it’s quite the opposite. Saying “I’m a writer” is all fine and good, affirming and all that, but it’s not what’s important. I was getting addicted to the title and subsequent baggage and forgetting the value of the art itself. This realization led to a new energy around my writing, and though my writing time has been limited, it’s been incredibly rewarding. More so than it has been in ten years.   

What else, what else…

Well, I’ve adopted a daily yoga practice that morphed into a yoga teacher training experience (that I had no time for) that is morphing into active yoga instruction. And this + writing = my evolution.

Thank you to JMWW for posting my philosophical meanderings, Sivana East and Elephant Journal for publishing new essays. Thank you to Curious Fictions for allowing me a small income from recent stories.

I now offer meditations and yoga for writers (and all) on a modest and very homespun YouTube channel, and I have begun writing coaching again with an emphasis on CREATING SPACE through art. I offer writing and yoga workshops, along with my coaching practice, but I have refined the way I work, so that I can offer a more customized and intense writing support system to each client. I also decided that video conferences are helpful for online students, so I am integrating video modules.

It’s rewarding work so far. It always was, but it feels richer somehow. I love to see people learn to own their voices and release expectations. In doing so, the payoff is pretty great. J

I am looking forward to Portland in March to meet up with writer friends new and old. I will be on the outskirts of things (off-site events the whole way) because that’s how I roll.

Cheers for now.

xo Jen

Loosen up

Massage should be covered under everyone's preventative care plans. I truly believe this. That said, when I get a massage, which I try to do as often as finances allow to offset the time I'm hunched over a computer, the therapist always tells me I should come back more often or come back for a longer session next time or try cupping or try hot stones... This is probably part of the routine, the up-sell. But what's not part of the routine is the crunchy, stuck, tight muscles around my shoulders, which don't seem to loosen up, no matter who I go to. I breathe into the muscles deeply, take baths with salts and relaxing bubbles, meditate... nothing helps. More than a few times, I've heard, "Your muscles are the tightest I've seen on a person your size." I've also heard, "You're almost as bad as the bodybuilders that come in." Seeing as how I lift weights once a month, maybe, if I can get on the floor long enough to do a few 5 lb raises to strengthen my triceps before the dog starts walking on my face, the comparison isn't complimentary as much as worrisome. 

On the occasion I am able to get a massage, I always ask the therapist the same thing to divert attention from my stubborn muscles. "I bet you have stories, eh? What's your craziest?" Inevitably, there's an affirmative, and often a story. Herein is this week's prompt:

A massage therapist, male or female, is working on a client who doesn't follow protocol. What does the client do or say? How does the therapist react? Is there awkward small talk? Confrontation? Take it where it goes, and end with the client getting dressed, the therapist outside the door, waiting with a plastic cup of water.    

I'm going to work on my ergonomics and stretching routine this week. I wish you comfort. 

xo Jen

The air is delicious

My new townhouse is located directly behind both an Italian restaurant and a trendy cafe that, together, make my the air smell like a delicious mix of bread-y comfort foods, sugars and spices. My mouth waters every time I go outside. When I was a kid, our house was near a Wonder Bread factory, and every morning as I sat at the bus stop, I closed my eyes and inhaled the rich, soft air. No matter what I went through when I was younger, that smell was like a hug.

This brings me to a new prompt, inspired by the olfactory effect on our memories and sense of self. Have fun with it:

Character X is in an argument with Character Y. Character X is just about to take the argument too far when a smell overcomes both characters. It can be a horrible smell, the burning of plastic or fresh spray of a skunk. Or, it can be a comforting smell, someone barbecuing or a perfume that calls to mind someone now gone. The two characters assign different memories and emotions to the same smell. In the time it takes for them to pause, their worlds are shaken. They return to the argument, but everything has changed.

Have a great week! I'll be posting again soon. In the meantime, I think I'll get something to eat.    

The Writing Life

“Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now.” —Annie Dillard

I don't know about you, but I am notorious for thinking something great will have to wait until later, sometime a few months or years from now when I'll have more time or a better space or a tighter grip on what the hell I'm doing as a writer and where I can find that perfect niche. I have this abstract vision of a future me who has it all together.

If everything happens as planned, I should have time and space soon, and before reading this quote, I had caught myself thinking, a few times, Eh, I'll do that when I get to the residency. What I want to do, precisely, is write a piece of flash loosely based on a prompt that a friend of mine shared recently from a memoir-writing workshop she attended. This is an adapted version of what she told me:

A screensaver that is similar to how I remember
seeing my backyard as a kid. Google
"ghetto backyard with bathtub" for an accurate image.

Close your eyes and try to imagine your favorite place to go as a child, whether that be your home, the neighborhood pool, or a friend's house. After you have an image in mind, begin to draw that place. Your artistic prowess is not as important as the effort. Draw with as much insight as you can. Try to remember the details, then use that setting as your catalyst for a story. It can be fiction or nonfiction, but tell a story in the location as you remember it. 

The original prompt was something specific about a childhood home, but I like favorite place better because when I was younger, my favorite places were my safe places--the places that I felt free to get the most crazy and let my imagination go wild. I had a few favorite places, but I'm going to start with the dense and weedy jungle that comprised the backyard of my childhood home. I used to play out there, allowing my imagination to go wild. I would play spy and cop and space travel games with my sister, using my imagination above all else, dreaming up fairies and elves and little purple aliens with attitudes. So that an ordinary, perhaps sad-looking but eclectic backyard (we had a bathtub half buried and filled with sand--a sand tub, for example) would transform into something magical. I assigned superpowers to the homeless men who were sometimes sitting out there on cinder blocks smoking cigarettes and drinking from brown bottles. I would find bugs and imagine them mutating or transmitting messages from a wizard. Imagination can make anything beautiful (or horrifying, but that's another post).

If you write, do the prompt with me and let me know how it works out. I'm shooting for less than 1,000 words or less. I have a sand tub and homeless men who may or may not have been magical going for me. What do you have?

Have a wonderful weekend! - Jen

*I have been struggling with the idea of defining my writing life and trying to tease it out here on this blog. My focus here has been blurry over the years, swaying and unpredictable, something like an old TV that cannot catch the channel you want to watch and is therefore filled with gray, fuzzy lines that may capture attention, but not for long. I write about myself, so that's a constant, and being a writer. I seem to have plenty to say about my subject, but I've decided to make what was once center-stage a mere part of my blog going forward. I'll still post news, but I hope to make the blog more interactive and focused on writing, and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you have any feedback. 

How to Own Older Work

I haven't posted much in the way of new stories or essays lately, but this week I have two to share. the first is a blog I wrote for Superstition Review (a journal that offered a home to one of my first truly completed stories). It's about how to look at our work as artists retrospectively. Here it is: Burning My First Words.

Also this weekend, I had a short story come out with Midway Journal. This one is entitled Two Flew Away, and it's about bullying.

I hope you enjoy them both. I've been battling a sinus infection that has been on and off again since 4/12, so I've been kind of quiet lately, but I'm finally beginning to feel better. Better for real, better for good. I'll be back at this blogging thing full force next weekend. For now, saline flush (ew, I know).

Have a beautiful and creative week!

Jen

In with the new

It has been too long since I've posted. And, everything has changed. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but a lot has changed. After working a lot of overtime for a few weeks, during which I had a book release and reading at San Antonio College and company and a few other engagements, I am again settling into a routine. I am a routine-driven person, and I believe it is within routines that I find my discipline, so this is a great relief.

So what has changed? A few things.

My book is out and in my hands (if you'd like to order a copy from me, let me know... if you'd like an eVersion, they're less than $3 on Amazon). Monkey Puzzle Press was fantastic to work with, so if you're considering submitting a manuscript to them, do! Not sure it's selling, but I think it is... we'll see.

I was offered and accepted a new position as a Best Practices Research Analyst with Frost & Sullivan (my current company). I will be researching the information, communication, and technology (ICT) industry, so I think it will be interesting as this is an ever-evolving space. This is an cool opportunity, and I look forward to the challenge because there will be a definite learning curve. Hard work pays off.

For writers, challenges in life are where we find the emotion, the catalyst to create, so my hope is that this new position will feed my writing, not distract from it. I am confident this will be the case.

I have had two (amazing) publishers show interest in my work. One has my short story collection and the other has my novel. We'll see what happens. I have learned not to count on anything just working out, so I can say I'm cautiously optimistic.

As for today, I plan to work a bit on my newest story and a new novel. I spent the morning at urgent care, due to a cold that hasn't gone away for almost two weeks. Urgent cares are a trip! My doctor introduced himself as June bug and after doing a few tests, diagnosed me with a sinus infection. I'm not big on antibiotics or any unnecessary meds, but I've been miserable (inevitable after all that concentrated work, entertaining, and little sleep). I'm on some steroids, so hopefully I don't turn into that guy ->

Life is constant flux. Thank goodness. I hope you have a beautiful week ahead, and if you have a Kindle, I hope you check out my five stories (if you do, please let me know what you think).

xo Jen

(Im)perfect writing

With time, with focus, with a writing residency or a full-time writing schedule or a more regimented writing routine, I would write without error. I wouldn't let silly things slip by.

I make mistakes all the time. I am a mistake machine. If you read this blog regularly, you likely know this. I am revising my posts all the time after catching a missing or extra comma, a misspelled word, or a logic error. At one time, I told myself that if things were different (see above), I would appear as flawless as I imagine the best, most notable authors are. But after 15+ years of writing seriously and reading voraciously, I can honestly say that all of the above statements are untrue and flawless writing without help is impossible. Sure, I might be more productive with more time; but blunders, typos and logic errors will always be there to trip me or give me a reality check when I feel full of myself.

I have been thinking about the pang that comes after finding errors in my work, especially older work, a lot lately. I have been thinking about it because I notice it doesn't bother me so much anymore. After all, when I am at work as an editor, I don't think twice when another person makes an error. Instead, I think, well, that's because this person is human, and I move on. If there are excessive errors, I might think the person didn't put much into the work, but a few errors are inevitable. In fact, over the years I've been writing, I have found the more I read published (big press and small press) books, the less alone I feel in my flaws. Even classics sometimes are printed with errors--logic, typo and other--despite the fact that thousands have read these books.

I'm not writing this post to tell you that there's not value in revision, editing, and polishing every manuscript until it is as error-free as possible, but I am saying that if you write and you miss something, don't beat yourself up. Just write more, revise if you can, move onward and forward.

As a teacher, I notice that some of the best storytellers in my class are the hardest critics when it comes to their own writing. If they let something slip, they think they're not cut out for writing or not up to the task. You don't understand, Professor Knox, I looked this over twenty times and never saw that typo. Something must be wrong with me. I must not be cut out for this.

Not true. In fact, quite the opposite tends to be true.

I am writing this post expressly to tell writers out there to do the best they can and never beat themselves up. In fact, if you're a real writer, a writer who is true to your own voice, willing to show your flaws and, more, examine them, you're on a good track. It is those who care, who are humbled by flaws and continue to move forward, who will last in this business. And let's face it, everyone wants to be a writer, but few folks stick with it.

Writing is not easy, and it is not always rewarding in the ways we think it will be. But writing is freedom unlike any other I know, and it will pay you back for your time if you stick with it. Perfect writing, in my opinion, is a myth. Strong writing is not. Strong writing that tells a story is writing that moves its readers. Strong sentences make the reader want to continue on.

Write, rewrite, and revise. But keep telling your stories at the risk of making errors. See each error as an opportunity for growth. If you are a good storyteller, I want to read your work, but I never will if you're too busy trying to be perfect. So, if you're like me and have second guessed yourself a lot, please stop. Think about the following:

1. A strong sentence is a sentence that makes the reader want to continue to read.

2. Mistakes are lessons, and lessons are gifts. Examine them.

3. Those who tell you about your errors are helping you, whether or not you think that is their intention. Thank them.

 

 

Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.

-George Eliot

Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/perseverance.html#jDjLl1JkQu2xi5HG.99

Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/perseverance.html#jDjLl1JkQu2xi5HG.99

Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/g/georgeelio388825.html#ASVrK8TXwK6IgZ7W.99

Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/g/georgeelio388825.html#ASVrK8TXwK6IgZ7W.99

Becoming a 'big' and taking a break

Writing News:

It took a while, but here's the novel (don't look too close!). I have completed a full, coherent draft. And this is my post-writing outline because I tend to do things backwards. I've tried to write to outlines, but my characters won't let me.

There's still a lot of work to do, but I have 73,400 words that encapsulate the world(s) of six people; two are major characters and all are interesting, I think, even if one will make you want to punch walls. My antagonist in this story is intense. I actually had to shake off her energy after I wrote long scenes with her in them, but hey, she's alive now on the page. I can honestly say that all these characters feel alive to me, though I'm sure they need the right lighting and camera angles before they are ready to present to the world.

I'm tired. I wrote this while working two jobs and battling the most debilitating migraines of my life (still getting them but less often... I attribute ridiculous amounts of water and Vitamin B serum for the reduction). I don't say that to make excuses for the amount of time it took but rather, to really emphasize that I am exhausted. Beat. Put a fork in me, I'm done.

Accordingly, I'm going to take a little time off from my novel and from short fiction, let the ideas simmer and try to think of what my next steps will be. I'm sure there are steps. I know it's sacrilege to take a break from writing when you're not blocked, but I think it might be a good time. I have so much good reading to do. I have the BEST class of my life to teach (these students are amazing... not a lazy one in the bunch, so far). And, I have a few new personal responsibilities to pay mind to.

In the meantime, I do have quite a bit forthcoming: 1. Uno Kudo, a literary arts production featuring poetry, artwork and prose in a beautiful coffee table style format will be featuring a story of mine about two folks in the animal control business who take their jobs very seriously. This publication should be out sometime in fall '13. Here's a link to V1, so you can check out a previous edition. It's an amazing book: UNO KUDO. 2. I have a new chapbook coming out, officially, from Monkey Puzzle Press (home to amazing writers such as Bonnie ZoBell and Meg Tuite). I signed the contract last week, and I'm so thrilled to be working with this amazing press. This book will be out in 2014.

Reading-wise, I've read a few great books. 1. The Magician's Assistant. I love this book. It took me a while to get around to reading it. I find it sweet and tough and sad and beautiful. 2. Beth Hoffman, my friend and mentor, has an amazing new book out entitled Looking for Me. Not only did I read this book, I listened to it on Audible, and it's a lovely experience both ways. I have a gut feeling this story will end up on screen.

Personal News:

My husband and I are becoming a 'big couple', not literally (I don't think). We've decided to volunteer to be 'bigs' for Big Brothers Big Sisters. I'm thrilled/scared/worried/overwhelmed by the idea. We attended orientation yesterday and were shocked to find out that this program has been around since 1903. Anything that can sustain and thrive that long must be doing real good, making real change. I hope we can be of some use and inspiration in a child's life. I really do. We'll see how it goes.

Okay, so off to find out if I can live up to my word and take a break from writing... have a good week!

Try if you must

When I was eight, I started running street races, from 5K to 5 miles. I hated running when I first started. It was my father's idea, and a way to get me out of my shell. I felt it obligatory and ridiculous, but I also started getting recognition—the trophies rolled in for the 10 & under category. People were easily impressed by me because I was super small and super goofy looking with my bright red hair, odd fashion sense, and hexagon glasses (the picture below depicts a good fashion day for me), and I was finishing these races. I'm not sure the running itself brought me out of my shell, but it did teach me a lot about the difference between doing a thing because you love it and doing it because it's what you're supposed to and it brings you recognition. It also, oddly, taught me a lot about the value of kicking back. 

I bring this up because I have been thinking a lot about writing and what motivates people (both who identify themselves as writers and those who don't) to do it. I came to writing in the opposite way that I came to run competitively. I just started writing because I loved it—no one asked me to, there was no secondary goal—and I could care less if anyone else read what I wrote because the process was in of itself a reward. It seemed to offer the same sort of healthy escapism that reading did when I wrote fiction and something more transcendent when I tackled nonfiction. It became a way to let it out, whatever it was from day to day.

For some (some would argue the lucky ones, but I’d say the durable and hardworking ones), writing begins to be recognized. It wins the writer awards and becomes a sort of performance sport as solicitations come in and the writer's end goal suddenly becomes publication. I recently began thinking again about trying to find an agent and really holding back any work from being published online for a while, and I'm thinking this because I am rather tired of the submission process. I want to write for the writing's sake for a while. At least for a few months, to see how it goes, and I know I need to relax in order to do so.

Running those races was always nerve shaking to me, and though I would feel good after the race most of the time, I also became overly obsessed with collecting trophies and beating my last time. As I got older, the trophies became harder to earn. I began straining my body by pushing myself in training and I found myself worrying for nights leading up to each race. I studied techniques and cross-trained. I did it all, and still, I seemed to be losing ground. Each race was more frightening and more disappointing than the last. I was getting a little faster, but the world around me was getting much faster.

The day finally came, one race day morning, when I decided I didn't give a damn. I woke up and made the conscious decision to take it easy. My father and I arrived at the Tomato Town Trot, a five mile race that was becoming an annual tradition, and I felt no nerves because I had decided that this race didn’t count. I didn't worry about placing in the race, and I didn't think about my time. I just ran. I talked to other runners, and I enjoyed the scenery. 

I had run many races by that time, and I had never enjoyed any part except crossing the finish line. Well, that and the ceremony at the end. Running was work. It was serious business. I never accepted water from the sidelines because I knew drinking water would take precious seconds off my time. I was focused and caught up in the competition. But this race, for the first time, I took the water. Hell, during the Tomato Town Trot, I even walked for a moment to drink my water. It was like I wasn't even trying. I finished that race in well under 40 minutes. This had been my goal for over a year, I was ten, and I'd finally done it. This was the race in which I began to enjoy running.

In a way, I think it's important to find this point in a writing career, where it's not about stockpiling publications, but writing for writing's sake. At least it's important for me. Perhaps it’s a good way to look at life in general. I welcome publication, and will continue to share my work with those interested as I'd hope writers whose work I enjoy and admire will, but my goal when writing is only to write. And I think in making this decision consciously, a writer can somehow manage to both kick back and move forward.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!! 

Oh, and since I was at the Spurs game last night: Go Spurs Go!!!

I wish you all a beautiful week.

Wish List

I've been reaching for a lot lately, and my goals seem to be a little steeper than I thought they were. They are not out of reach, but I need to find a damn ladder or step stool. That said, I've been daydreaming a lot this week and reading news and writing odd little stories in between these pesky migraines. And in this dreamy head space, I have been wishing for a lot. One thing I know true for myself is, wishes don't come true. Wishes must be reigned in, restructured into goals, and then steps are made toward said goals.

But there are also those longings that aren't goals and can't be, at least not for me. These longings are destined to remain wishes and longings. But, as Audre Lorde said (my favorite quote of all time here, people), "I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood." 

So, I thought, why not share my wish list?  

I wish....

people were less hypocritical

wheatgrass tasted better

smart, empathetic people had as much drive as smart, narcissistic people

sugar didn't taste so damn good

cancer would go the fuck away (I truly believe scientists are on the verge of finding the magic potion. I just wish it'd happen now.)

scars weren't attached to such sad memories

joints were less fragile

redheads could go out in the sun

vegetables didn't spoil so quickly

every person who ever called or thought of him or herself as a story writer subscribed to at least two literary journals

cellphone contracts weren't so evil

women who fight for what they believe in would no longer be called a. bitches or b. sensitive/emotional 

who you know/are related to counted less than who you are

people in my apartment complex wouldn't feed the deer (that then congregate around us and run back and forth across the major road in front of our apartments)

there was less pressure for everyone to be everything all the time

there was true quiet, every now and then

Drama
Image: Christopher J. Shanahan

retirement wasn't a luxury in the U.S.

i had more patience 

everyone read novels

everyone read poetry

everyone could read

no one was invisible

caffeine didn't seem so necessary

the common definition of beauty became authenticity instead of the opposite

i could accept things the way they are

Somehow, just by putting them to paper, I feel a little more grounded. Funny how that works. If you'd like, share your wishes with me. I'd love to hear them.

I'll post literary news next week. 

Mega-relax mode

I'm writing this as the dryer works. The sound is soothing, and soothing is exactly what I need today.

Yesterday was a non-event. I had a migraine that kept me from doing much of anything aside from trying to cure my migraine. I am not used to migraines, but this was definitely one. I had one in Vermont, too, and I'm wondering if it's allergies. I drank 6 of those 16 ounce bottles of spring water, took magnesium and zinc because I read those were good, and finally resigned my stubborn self to a Tylenol allergy and sinus pill about 8 p.m. because that was all I had. Maybe it was allergies or sinus stuff because it finally left me alone. Let's just say the water helped as well. But now I feel my weekend is almost up, so I'm in mega-relax mode.

Some rather big news reached me today. My first book, the one that I love/hate/love, will soon be produced in audio. I am so touched that my publisher, All Things That Matter, went to the trouble of submitting it and that it was chosen. I'm a little nervous about how the reading will turn out, but mostly, I'm just excited. Maybe Musical Chairs, my crazy story, will reach who it needs to--those young people who want out of their skin, because they are the reason I wrote it. Well, really, I wrote it for my younger self then shared it for anyone who thought like I did then. I still plan to rewrite it one day. But in the meantime, audio really does open the audience up, so I'm hoping... Anyway, it'll be on iTunes and Audible/Amazon in June. I'll post when I hear more.

So also this week, I got my issue of Thumbnail 4, which is AMAZING! I really recommend buying and reading it. The whole of it is just stunning. Also, Lost in Thought 4 came out. I haven't received my copy yet, but my story in this one is almost prose poetry, so it's another reach. I'll be very eager to read the rest of it. There are some damn fine writers in there. It's really reasonable to buy online, but I'm waiting for my print version of this one. The art is just so amazing... I have to.

Well, that's it for the week. I'm going to try and write a little. I've had a sort of dry spell the last week. But dry spells for writers are okay. I consider these times the way we recharge and take in the world. We are forever reevaluating ourselves and our place, and this is why there will never be an end to the newness of perspective in story. Now, off to prove that... Happy week, all!

Week 1

Snow drift early this morning over
the mountains

It has been one week since I landed in Burlington, Vermont and took the shuttle to the small town of Johnson, where the population comes in well under 4,000 and the maple candy is pure. It has been as low as -15F since I've been here, and oh yes, there has been snow. We didn't get hit hard at all by the blizzard, but what reached us was the most snow I've seen at once in a long time.

I was thrilled because I was able to take pictures with my phone today. In the airport, on the way here, I had dropped my phone on the bathroom floor, and it fell to pieces. I was able to put it back together; however, I didn't realize at the time that I had lost my micro-SD card, which meant I couldn't store anything on my phone, including pictures. But, I got a new one last night and voila! I took these on my early morning walk... a few pics post-yesterday's snow. I have to say, it really is like being inside of a snow globe.


It's a little snowier now

If you are considering a residency but have yet to make up your mind as to whether to apply, do! The food is good, the people are cool (though I guess the people would always be different), and the value of free time to write is, as MasterCard would say, priceless TM (they did trademark that, right?). Also, Johnson, VT is adorable. There's pizza, wing, and Chinese restaurants downtown. No grocery store since the flood, but a pretty handy gas station and another deli that sells wine and snacks. There's a headshop (smokeshop), an art store, Ebenezer Books on Main, a cool little coffee shop, a P.O., and a laundromat. That's pretty much the extent of it, but let's be honest, any more would just be distraction.

I am happy to say that I was productive my first week. I have 25 badass pages of revised novel and 160 pages to revise. But, I've done some major adjustments to the book I'm working on here that I think are changing the pace of things dramatically. One of the residents here said something that struck me the other day. He said that if you're not interested in your own work, no one else will be. You have to be excited about it as you create, and if you are, that's exactly how you know you're on the right track. I agree. When I first started on this piece here, I wasn't excited. I just wanted to finish a novel. Now, I'm thrilled. In fact, I want to see what happens next as much as I would if I were reading someone else's work.

Along with my badass novel revision/additions, I have written two new stories top to bottom that star the same character, only neither story is told from his perspective. These new pieces were inspired partly by my interest in animal trivia (in case you haven't noticed) and some of the nature stories I've heard here in Vermont. I developed a rather oddball character, but I love him. I think he's interesting enough to have an entire collection of work devoted to him. We'll see. I hope to write at least one more piece with him in it while here.


So, yeah, I'm energized and ready to write some more. (Conversely, this cold wears a person out! I'm exhausted by 6PM.) I'm technically more than half-way through the residency, so here's to hoping I can get to page 100 of the novel. If I can, I think I could get it ready for an editor by early summer.

In the meantime, please read my new experimental piece in Stone Highway Review. You can read it for free here, or you can support a lit mag and get the beautiful printed version here (see right for the cover image). Thank you, Mary Stone Dockery and Kate Longofono, for putting together such a beautiful body of work. Also soon to come out is the beautiful new issue of Lost in Thought Magazine, which is put out by Kyle Schruder and Robert Vaughan. I got my proof yesterday, and I can't wait to read (and see) the whole thing.

I also had three pieces accepted into the Eunoia Review, which should be appearing this summer. Thanks, Ian Chung, for the mega acceptance. It sure set the right mood when I got here.

Talk about good vibes in Vermont. Now, back to it... I only have a week left!

Texas Autobahn

Right now, the Buckeyes and Michigan are playing. Michigan is in the lead, and my scarlet and gray clad husband is nervously engaged. During breaks and commentary, he's been pacing and separating pomegranate membrane from seed that floats in a big bowl of purplish water. This is not the normal Saturday in our household, but it's a rather perfect portrait and what I had hoped for from our vacation. I am writing, my husband is relaxing and watching football, and we have some odd doings in-progress in the kitchen. I love this downtime and will soak in every minute.

Over Thanksgiving I think I might have gained back the pounds I lost a few weeks ago back, which I'm happy about. I'm feeling healthy; and in my own opinion, I haven't been looking it since I lost that weight. I've never liked the emaciated look. And, I really don't like the attention it gets from other too-skinny middle-aged women: "Oh wow, you look so good. What are you doing? Zumba? I started doing Zumba last year, and now I go four times a day..."

Nah. Nothing against Zumba. I actually want to try it, but I'd rather be the weight that does not invite such comments (healthy!), and I'm almost there again.  Thank you, healthy appetite; thank you, pumpkin pie!

Because my family is so spread out, and we have Christmas plans to visit, the husband and I stayed in Texas. A good writer friend, JP Reese, was generous enough to invite us and the dog over for a home-cooked meal. (Let's be honest here, my Thanksgiving would've been veggie lasagna had we stayed. And there is a 20% chance said veggie lasagna would have been store-bought.) So, we packed up the dog, drove five hours, and had a beautiful time with her family.

It was so cool to experience a family dinner without being part of the actual family dynamic--no pressure, just a lovely time. Her family is awesome, and I felt welcome and at home. That said, I missed my family a lot. I spoke to them at various times since dinner, and we all agreed it sucks we couldn't see each other but we were all making the most of it. Mom asked me outright to "kindly get really rich, preferably sooner than later," so we wouldn't have to worry about not seeing each other another holiday. Seeing as how I'm a teacher and writer, I made the promise with ironic optimism that sure, I'd get right on that.

During our stay with JP, her four cats and my dog bonded. Two of the cats, one almost as big as our 35 pound dog, followed him around; they smelled his ears, sat at the window while he looked around outside, and tilted their little triangle-shaped heads at him as he bullied us humans into petting him. Lucky for him, he's oblivious when he's well-fed and getting attention, so he made the rounds like an old family pet, cleaning the floor where people dropped bits of food and ensuring everyone pet him at least once. And he doesn't bark, so that kept him indoors. I don't think he wanted to make the trip back home, but thanks to a turkey coma that seems to still be in effect, we were able to tear him away.

Here, we come to the Texas Autobahn. In late October, 130, was unveiled. It is a toll road in Texas between Dallas and San Antonio that has the highest legal speed limits in the U.S. The signs said 80 mph when we got on, but after a stretch at that pace, they were raised to 85 mph. Let me tell you, I wanted a picture of a road sign that says 85 mph  but when you're going 85 mph, good luck getting one. As far as we were concerned, dog in tow, the stretch was well worth the $6.50 or so it cost us to avoid 35 through Austin. And, it was kind of cool to go that fast. The freeway was relatively empty and those that were on it seemed to be content to move at the designated limit.  

The drive was so smooth; in fact, I began reading Raymond Carver's Where I'm Calling From. I forgot how much I love Carver. I forgot so intently that I'd forgot I'd read many of the stories aside from "Cathedral," which is, of course, in almost every fiction anthology imaginable. Carver is just what I needed. His easy narrative style and subtle endings give me hope that works I'm drawn to and works I'm drawn to write, for that matter, will continue to be recognized. I find quite a bit of the work I read to be so forced, so over-the-top and gimmicky, that I sometimes forget to return to those writers I love to find home. As a writer myself, it's a good reminder, too, that I shouldn't force or try to fit in with a style. A narrative that feels easy is a lot of tough writing but it's also so, so worth it; and this is my wheelhouse.

Well, I'm off to watch the rest of this game and write, write, write. And figure out what the hell we're going to do with this pomegranate. Since I began writing this, the Bucks are still 5 points down. They have on new uniforms, and I have to say, they don't look comfortable. It's days like today that I miss Columbus but am also ever-so-thankful to not be living there. If you're a fan, and we win, don't go setting trashcans on fire; oh, and if you're a fan, and we lose, don't go setting trashcans on fire, mmmmkay? And, on that note, Go Bucks! (They're winning now!)

Journal writing about journal writing workshops

Let's face it, this blog is really just a public journal. I mostly talk about myself, my writing failures, successes, frustration, and inspiration. I guess this alone qualifies me to teach a journal writing workshop. I've been hosting such workshops at the San Antonio Public Library every six months, for teens and preteens who are interested in journal writing and want to know more about how to do it, and why they should bother.

Here's how these workshops go down:

After our introductions, I begin the workshop by telling the writers what I believe to be the benefits of journal writing. For me, journal writing offers the following:

• a record of life events (no worries about faulty memory)
• perspective on current situations, which allows me to decide what my goals are and what I need to change in my life
• distance from emotions
• safety (if I write or even draft a post, and I decide I don't want to share it, I never have to.) 
• proof of how far I've come
• a reason to write 

After this introduction (sales pitch), we trade our own journal writing practices, if any, and we get ready for the fun stuff. The prompts.

I only have one ground rule for my workshops, a rule inspired by Natalie Golderg's Writing Down to the Bones (a book I often use in my beginning writing classes at San Antonio Community College). Everyone is asked to respond to a specific prompt and let go; allow the mind to be free to wander on the page. I set a timer for 10 minutes, and the only rule is to keep the pen on the paper at all times. No stopping! Just keep the pen moving, Goldberg suggests, and I insist. I like this idea because it means the goal is to shut off the censor and let the writing itself take over.

It doesn't always work. Not the first time, anyway. But the second or third or fourth time, it works, and once it works, it continues to work a little easier each time you sit with pen and timer. If you stray from a prompt, so be it. If you end up writing a grocery list or a list of wishes, so be it. Just keep writing.

Okay, here are the prompts, a few of which I've actually used in workshops:

Past:

1. Food: Think about a family meal, a holiday or celebratory meal, and begin to write about what you ate. What did it taste like, smell like, were you a child and if so, did you get to sit at the same table as the adults? Were there other children there. Begin to write about the meal, and see where this memory takes you.
2. Aspirations: When you were ten years old, what did you think you'd become when you grew up? Why did you think this way, and did it turn out to be true?
3. Change of scenery: Write about a place you used to visit that no longer exists, a restaurant that has closed or a lot you used to walk through on your way home from school that is now a pizza place. 

Present:

1. How do you feel? Let it out.
2. Write about who you were two years ago and who you are today. What's changed? 
3. What did you dream about last night? Be as vivid as possible.

Future:

1. Aspirations: What do you expect your life to be like in 5 years? How about 10 years?
2. Fears: Let them out, and write your worst case scenario. Seeing our fears on paper, really written out, can make them far smaller.
3. Goals: Write what you need to change and how you plan to change it.

Lists:

1. Write a list, like this one, that recounts what you did to today: 1.) Woke up and hit the snooze button, 2.) Dog licked me in the eye, so I had to get up and walk him, 3.) Got the mail and found yet another envelope addressed to Elida. Who the hell is Elida?, 4.) Listened to Christmas music on the way to work. Stopped singing at the stoplight when the guy in the truck gave me that Texas serial killer look.
2. Write out a list of what you need to do this coming weekend.
3. Write your actual To-Do list and then the To-Do list you'd have if your life was exactly as you wanted it to be.

Roles:

1. Write about what you imagine your life would be like if you were a man (if you're a woman) or a woman (if you're a man), tall (if you're short), etc..
2. Write your ideal day/date/evening/family gathering.
3. Choose your own adventure: Explore on paper what it might have been like if you went overseas to teach, after all; if you decided against that MFA program you're currently paying off, if you went for that Art degree, despite your parents, or if you'd had/not had that elective surgery. You get the idea. What if you took the other path?

Inspiration:

1. Write about those family members, friends, or role models that keep you striving.
2. Write about what makes you happy each day, the little things such as the first cup of coffee or the good seat in Monday meetings.
3. What are you thankful for? In AA, there is the common practice of keeping a gratitude journal. This is kind of what we're going for here... write a sort of thanks-giving post. This is a very helpful tool for people who need to feel grounded or haven't taken the time to reflect on how far they've come.

So, pick one, write for ten minutes. Don't stop. If you go off-topic, so what? It's your journal.

In my workshops, I make the offer to those who want to share writing with others, and a few take me up on the opportunity. This is the beauty of journal writing. Sometimes excellent creative work, some damn funny reflection, or even new realizations, will come up and you'll want to share. But, you're not sitting down to write with the intention to share, so there's no pressure. That's the freedom!

I always look forward to these workshops. I'm holding one tomorrow. We usually only have time to complete three prompts, and it's just enough. A good half an hour of solid, non-stop writing; and then we all part ways with our journals a little fuller. Hopefully, we leave with a little more clarity on some aspect of our lives, even if this clarity comes from a simple scene from our past, perhaps how much we really disliked turkey as a child but ate it willingly on Thanksgiving because when it was served, the entire family became quiet and happy, if just for a moment.

Well, that was a nice warm-up. I'll be hosting a workshop tomorrow after work. Can you tell I'm excited? Have a good week. If you use any of these as catalysts to write, let me know how it goes. 

The final movie

I've heard that a person's life story flashes before her eyes in the last moment of life. If this is true, I'm all about making that final movie phenomenal. I think I've already had enough conflict for a good story arc, so yeah, I'm all in for the sappy, happy, and lengthy ending. That's what I'm shooting for.

And what makes me happy is writing.

I'll be updating this blog only a few times this year because I've decided to focus the little free time I have to work on the novel, and also, possibly, add to and rewrite Musical Chairs--I'm inclined to do this every five years, Montaigne-style, adding new realizations and perspective with time. And because my contract with All Things That Matter Press expires in 2013, I figured this was a good time to work on it. I haven't yet decided. What I know is that I need to write, and so I'll be here less often, but I wanted to check in to say that my wrist is healing. I have a little nerve damage that I'm working to correct with physical therapy and a slightly modified lifestyle that means less time roaming the virtual landscape. So, I'll be back in full effect next year. In the meantime, Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone. Have a beautiful year, and I'll be checking in.

2011 - Rough Writing

It's been an interesting year. Not too prolific on the blog here, I must say, but I've done my fair share of writing. I've pounded out quite a few words over various projects, but unlike other years, when I've found or made the time, 2011 has been a tough year to write. In fact, it proved damn-near impossible.

- June 2011 -

Between a slow-healing hand and wrist injury to a tendon that still lingers to this day if I have pen in hand for too long (typing is far easier, but still with its limits), a robbery, and a bout of unexpected underemployment that lasted right up to September at which point I became hyper-employed (needfully, thankfully) and began a 40hr/week copy editing job on top of teaching, my writing presence (especially online) has been suffering. Yet, I have continued to write. Because no matter the loss of use of a hand or time or resources, we writers write. We're a touch crazy like that--addicted to making the intangible tangible. So, I wrote a sentence here and there. Here's how: I used voice recognition software, I wrote with my left hand, on breaks, in the in-between time, the waiting-in-line time, any time I could for as long as I could. 

Writing is something I always took for granted to be there for me. But after this year's obstacles, I've reevaluated the value of my writing time. I've realized what a luxury it is to write. And though I'm not yet where I'd like to be in the literary world, I've recently remembered why I truly do what I do: I love being part, if in some small way, of the literary conversation that occurs between writer and reader. I enjoy being on both sides of it, exploring this insane world through a series of strings of words. Clinging to this urge, I'll continue on without taking anything for granted. 

And if I get a break here and there, I'll aim to be more active on this blog. I plan to post about a forthcoming story soon, and as for book three... I'll post again in the new year. 

**I received a beautiful thank you note from http://www.1800runaway.org/, for the donation from the sales of Musical Chairs in September. I plan to donate any royalties from the sales of this book again in January. I'd love for the amount to be higher this time. In fact, this time I will match my royalty sales and donate that amount. If you're interested in buying the book, please purchase it from Amazon, either in Kindle or paperback. If you purchase it from Barnes & Noble or outside of the U.S., notify me here as these sales post later with my publisher so that I know to count the sale toward the total.     

Intermission

I was thrilled to do an interview with the good people at Independent Ink Magazine. It was fun teasing out my thoughts about the changing publishing world and how my life as a writer began. 

Check out the magazine! It's amazing.

Expect Part V the first week in October. I'm a little behind since I started a new job this week (yes, I'm still teaching too), but I won't leave you hanging if you've been following along.

back in action

Okay, so here I am blogging. But not in the traditional sense. Today is the first day that I've used voice recognition software, and so far it seems to be working pretty well. The fact of the matter is I don't have a choice. It's either rest my hand completely or risk permanent damage, so here I am dictating… and it feels damn strange.

I'd like to make a plea to all the writers out there—take care of your wrists and hands. Consider this: I didn't really start writing until I was 18. So even though I have written quite a few words during this time frame, I've really only been writing for 13 years. Yet, here I am with a serious repetitive strain injury (RSI). Given the fact that computers are currently being first used by toddlers as opposed to teenagers (as was the case on I was younger), I wouldn't be surprised if everyone suffers from some sort of computer related RSI injury in the future.

One of the most valuable things I've learned from getting tendinitis is that it is often caused by improper positioning and unnecessary tightness around the wrists and hands (I also learned that I have a remarkably low threshold for pain, but that's another story). If you notice any tightness when you write, or if you hold your hand in the same way—especially if you allow it to hover over the keyboard in a rigid position—check out the following exercises: http://www.handhealthresources.com/Solutions%20Pages/Exercises.htm

They help a great deal, both for preventative care and during the healing process.

It's been rather unbearable to not be able to write. In a way, it's really made me realize how valuable writing is to my life. I underestimated how often I sit down at the computer and write despite the fact that I don't have a regular routine. Personally, I've always tended to write whenever I find the time, which is usually in between other activities. But these in between times really add up. Having not had the ability to write over the last two weeks, I have damn near gone crazy. Luckily, my writing is supporting itself in that I got a few award checks this month that paid for this software. I'll keep you up to date as far as how everything goes, but for now it seems to be going okay… the only way to heal tendinitis is through rest, and unfortunately I'm not a to point my life yet where I can take off of work for a long period of time so for now voice recognition will have to do.

It will be interesting to see if I can complete creative work using voice recognition. I will say, it does feel quite a bit different. Something about the process of recording my thoughts seems somehow off... if nothing else, this is the way to get the rough ideas down.

In writing news, I have just received my hard copy of Short Story America. To share the pages with such talented writers is a distinct honor. I want to thank Tim Johnston and recognize the other authors in the anthology; it's a beautiful work, physically and content-wise. Also, I'd like to thank Dawn Herring for providing some great links that helped me to put together the workshop and provide a set of resources for the participants of the Journal Writing workshop at the San Antonio Public Library. I had an amazing time teaching this workshop. I was surprised and delighted by the wide variety of ages and backgrounds—from seasoned writers to those who had never before considered keeping a journal—which made the event truly magical. I have been invited back to teach another workshop in the fall, and I will be announcing the details about that event on my website very soon.

Thank you for hanging in there with me. I hope to be more active on this blog soon as I get used to this software, and hopefully find a full recovery within a few weeks thanks to the rest that will allow. For now, I'm tired of listening to myself…

Do Other Things

Artists don't wait for approval, and they don't wait for anyone else to tell them that they're good. But they do have to wait until they think work is ready. They are true to the voice (that elusive thing!), and they make that voice as strong as possible through hard work and constant reevaluation.

There. That's my art-centered, self-improvement rant. And, to be completely honest, it's a mantra as well as a statement. I've had a little trouble getting new work down lately. The reason is, paradoxically, because I've been getting more acceptances of my work lately. You'd think confidence would improve, right? Oddly, the opposite is happening. I'm feeling a heightened pressure each time I put a work out there for consideration. I'm rereading my old work and wondering why my current work feels so comparatively inadequate. Granted, when that old work was current, it too felt inadequate.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm having a little bout of block. I've been spending most of my time copy editing, which I actually love to do. It feels like exercise, and better, it pays. Also, I've spent a lot of computer time preparing a syllabus for a summer course that I'm hoping will make (we adjuncts never know) and outlines for a few appearances I'll be doing in SA (more soon). And yes, I have been writing. But the writing has been slow-going, and I suspect that the reason for this is that I'm putting too much pressure on myself to ride the publication wave. It's the same problem I had when I was just beginning to write--the whole write to publish mentality--when by now I should know that to write is to take the first in a long series of steps. Write, ruminate, revise, do other things, revise with distance, cut all unnecessary words, do other things, reread, then think about publication.

I'll get over it, I know. Writing is, after all, about ups and downs. If I'm down, there's only one direction to go. In the meantime, I'm going to try and have some fun this Memorial Day weekend. I'm not drinking like, it seems, the rest of the world will be. But, I will be partying, in air conditioning (San Antonio just hit 110 on the heat index -- and it's still May!!!). I'm not saying I'm taking a break from writing. There's no such thing. But I am definitely in the "do other things" part of the cycle with much of my existing work. No matter how much we writers perfect routines, the very nature of this work doesn't allow for too much conformity. This is an easy thing to forget.

Happy Memorial Day Weekend Everyone!!!   To doing other things!!!

A Time to Heal

I tore a tendon (I think) in my wrist a month or so ago, which made my work - writing, teaching online, grading, editing - incredibly difficult. I kept my hand as idle as possible for a while, which helped.

In the past few weeks, however, I've been on the computer even more than usual, trying to makeup work that was lost when my computer was stolen. I got a few gigs doing contract work, techincal writing, which will help pay bills (yay!) but also adds to my computer time. So in the midst of all this typing, my hand and wrist began to ache and swell again. I really think I need to stay off this hand and wrist altogether, but I refuse to stop writing in any capacity.

Illustration by Christopher J Shanahan



I'm doing my best to work left-handed, and this brings me to my reason for this post. Writing left-handed (my non-dominant hand) is tough, but I've been doing it. The strange thing is, the slowing down of the process is proving oddly beneficial. With the slowing comes frustration, sure, but also a more intentional, carefully-worded first draft when it comes to my creative work (which no torn tendon will keep me from).



This is the sort of thing that takes energy and dedication, not to mention time, but I suggest it as an exercise: try writing, or even typing, with you non-dominant hand. I recomend starting with something really short. But try it. It's a strangly beneficial exercise. There's science to support the fact that ambidexterity is benefical in that it stimulates both hemispheres of the brain, which makes a person more adaptable and better at sports (I could stand to have a little more coordination, believe me). Although the left hemisphere is responsible for language function, the right hemisphere is responsible for spatial abilities, music and visual imagery (yes, I minored in psychology): all functions that can work to heighten the artistic output on the page.

We'll see how this goes... If you try it, let me know how it works for you.