...you are part of the precipitate.
Gotta hate a week where nothing really is wrong enough to complain about, but during which lots of small stupid things bubble up and lurk about and just generally are aggravating.
Right -- nothing really to complain about. But damn do I wanna bitch and moan about something.
In the interest of not giving into that self-indulgence, will aggregate some stuff from my life. Stuff that I CAN'T bitch about. Well, I could, but you'd all think I was off my rocker for it. Sigh.
Reading: "Lives of the Monster Dogs", a first novel by Kirsten Bakis. Interesting. Slow-ish. Fairy-tale feel. Overall, like. http://tinyurl.com/3jtwd9
Also "The Little Friend" by Donna Tartt. Like wearing a heavy blanket in the summer, this is a ponderous Faulknerian experience, and I was unfortunately disappointed by the end which I saw coming about 2/3 of the way through. On the other hand, Tartt plays with words deftly, and I immersed in her world. http://tinyurl.com/y8bnohz
Cooking: Vegetarian. Made seitan for the first time (Seitan Lives!). It's...okay. I am a meat eater, and generally not happy with meat substitutes. This was better reheated, in the Curried Udon with Seitan that I made just to put the seitan in. This was very yum, though the seitan was so-so. After it sat overnight in the fridge and was reheated, the seitan had a better consistency. http://tinyurl.com/yz5yczf
Listening to: New Jazz. Classical guitar. Billie Holliday.
Wishing for: the beach.
2010 off to an anti-climactic start.
The final snippet: Sorrow was last weekend's emotion.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Just Keep Writing....
Just keep writing, just keep writing, just keep writing, writing, writing...*
Yeah. That.
I'm bored with reminding myself...can someone else remind me for a while that the way to get stuff written is to write and write and write?
Also, whole you're at it, remind me that I love writing. Really, I do. Even when it feels like crawling arouond on my hands and knees in coffee grounds and broken glass, looking for that damned contact lens. Again. Really...it hurts good.
I swear.
Just keep writing, just keep writing, just keep....
Sigh.
Getting back to it.
The Final Snippet: Life is just better when cords are tidy (lifted from Elliot, with gratitude).
(*apologies to Dorrie for shoplifting this...please don't sue me)
Yeah. That.
I'm bored with reminding myself...can someone else remind me for a while that the way to get stuff written is to write and write and write?
Also, whole you're at it, remind me that I love writing. Really, I do. Even when it feels like crawling arouond on my hands and knees in coffee grounds and broken glass, looking for that damned contact lens. Again. Really...it hurts good.
I swear.
Just keep writing, just keep writing, just keep....
Sigh.
Getting back to it.
The Final Snippet: Life is just better when cords are tidy (lifted from Elliot, with gratitude).
(*apologies to Dorrie for shoplifting this...please don't sue me)
Monday, January 4, 2010
Some Days
On a good day, there's not much difference between what I want to say or do, and what I actually say or do.
Some days are easier than others, however.
Some days, I wake up jazzed to write, and I end up instead on my hands and knees paving my own road to hell -- oooh -- look -- a good intention fits here...and here...and here...and here....
Sigh.
Some days I wake up jazzed to write, and instead spend a lot of time thinking about writing but procrastinating the actual writing until I fall into my bed and dream of all the words unwritten.
Depressing.
Some days I wake up jazzed to write and instead of writing what I planned, I allow myself to get dragged off into that peculiar type of procrastination which results in something getting written, just not what I planned. As if I were possessed by some demonic anti-muse who will not ever let me forget that while I seem to have been productive, I in fact just fooled myself into avoiding what needed to get done.
Really depressing.
And some days I wake jazzed to write and manage, through nothing short of a miracle to actually get done some or all of what I had planned, without self-criticizing, or self-editing myself into stopping, and the words are there, where they always are, on the other side of the keyboard, or transmogrified from inside a pen through nothing more than my will.
That's a good damn day.
Here's hoping 2010 has a lot of those good damn days for all of us.
The Final Snippet: "You can always hope for the West." (overheard in a meeting, much to my delight, where the speaker intended to say 'You can always hope for the best." I love this sentiment and vow to use it in every meeting possible until the end of time.)
Some days are easier than others, however.
Some days, I wake up jazzed to write, and I end up instead on my hands and knees paving my own road to hell -- oooh -- look -- a good intention fits here...and here...and here...and here....
Sigh.
Some days I wake up jazzed to write, and instead spend a lot of time thinking about writing but procrastinating the actual writing until I fall into my bed and dream of all the words unwritten.
Depressing.
Some days I wake up jazzed to write and instead of writing what I planned, I allow myself to get dragged off into that peculiar type of procrastination which results in something getting written, just not what I planned. As if I were possessed by some demonic anti-muse who will not ever let me forget that while I seem to have been productive, I in fact just fooled myself into avoiding what needed to get done.
Really depressing.
And some days I wake jazzed to write and manage, through nothing short of a miracle to actually get done some or all of what I had planned, without self-criticizing, or self-editing myself into stopping, and the words are there, where they always are, on the other side of the keyboard, or transmogrified from inside a pen through nothing more than my will.
That's a good damn day.
Here's hoping 2010 has a lot of those good damn days for all of us.
The Final Snippet: "You can always hope for the West." (overheard in a meeting, much to my delight, where the speaker intended to say 'You can always hope for the best." I love this sentiment and vow to use it in every meeting possible until the end of time.)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Lion and Tigers and Hiatuses..Oh My
Or, Perseverance in the Face of One's Own Natural Inclination to Procrastinate.
Life has gotten to me, I admit. From a daily post, to a weekly-ish post to a roughly 2.5 month hiatus from posting which just sort of happened. Not in a bad way, just in quiet, withdraw-from-things-to-figure-out-stuff way.
Today, on the last day of 2009, I realize that I don't want to let go of Conversational Shoplifter...I like it, the idea of it and what it might grow into given half a chance. But there are other things that I have, in fact needed to let go of or otherwise change. And I have been....
And so, here's my reflection on 2009:
2009 as a year of change...er...transition: Yeah, 2009 had a lot of change in it for me. Marital status, homeowner status, learning how to be a single mom, and 3, yes THREE different jobs. Losing beloved pets, needing to do major home repairs, change and adjustment, and lots of it. I seem to have processed through all of it relatively unscathed, even though there were many tears shed. I reminded myself repeatedly that change is an opportunity, and tried to experience it as such. On the whole, I did well enough that I am hopeful...2010 will likely offer its own array of change, but I am either no longer afraid of big changes OR I am just too tired to worry about them as much as I once would have. Some combination of those two is probably an okay thing.
2009 as a year of self-improvement: No, I don't mean I went to self-help seminars. Or a shrink (though I did do that at least twice). I mean in the sense of taking a long hard look at what I want in life and seeing what I could do to facilitate getting or achieving those things. And while I wasn't necessarily successful in completing all the things I wanted to, I was successful in moving away from or eliminating that which seemed to be holding me back. I let go of, in no particular order, habits, plans, control, useless emotional responses (such as bitterness or anger) and in a few instances, unfortunately, people whom I considered friends. The result seems to be a me who has far less trouble Getting Things Done, and since much of what I want in life requires this of me, this constitutes progress.
2009 as a year of progress: When we move away from things which do not work, we also move, by default, toward other things. Some of that which I am moving toward is clear to me, but much of it exists in some space too far out for me to see. E.L. Doctorow described writing a book like this: "It's like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." I think this can be a metaphor for life, not just for writing. I know there is fog -- I see it -- but I also know that on the other side is some destination which I desire, even if I do not yet understand what it is or where it is or what it will mean for me. This is progress.
I hope your 2009 was as productive as mine seemed to be, and that 2010 will find you able to achieve that which you wish to grasp.
The Final Snippet: "After you finish shopping for shoes, we really need to have a discussion." (man speaking on a cell phone, overheard at the mall)
Life has gotten to me, I admit. From a daily post, to a weekly-ish post to a roughly 2.5 month hiatus from posting which just sort of happened. Not in a bad way, just in quiet, withdraw-from-things-to-figure-out-stuff way.
Today, on the last day of 2009, I realize that I don't want to let go of Conversational Shoplifter...I like it, the idea of it and what it might grow into given half a chance. But there are other things that I have, in fact needed to let go of or otherwise change. And I have been....
And so, here's my reflection on 2009:
2009 as a year of change...er...transition: Yeah, 2009 had a lot of change in it for me. Marital status, homeowner status, learning how to be a single mom, and 3, yes THREE different jobs. Losing beloved pets, needing to do major home repairs, change and adjustment, and lots of it. I seem to have processed through all of it relatively unscathed, even though there were many tears shed. I reminded myself repeatedly that change is an opportunity, and tried to experience it as such. On the whole, I did well enough that I am hopeful...2010 will likely offer its own array of change, but I am either no longer afraid of big changes OR I am just too tired to worry about them as much as I once would have. Some combination of those two is probably an okay thing.
2009 as a year of self-improvement: No, I don't mean I went to self-help seminars. Or a shrink (though I did do that at least twice). I mean in the sense of taking a long hard look at what I want in life and seeing what I could do to facilitate getting or achieving those things. And while I wasn't necessarily successful in completing all the things I wanted to, I was successful in moving away from or eliminating that which seemed to be holding me back. I let go of, in no particular order, habits, plans, control, useless emotional responses (such as bitterness or anger) and in a few instances, unfortunately, people whom I considered friends. The result seems to be a me who has far less trouble Getting Things Done, and since much of what I want in life requires this of me, this constitutes progress.
2009 as a year of progress: When we move away from things which do not work, we also move, by default, toward other things. Some of that which I am moving toward is clear to me, but much of it exists in some space too far out for me to see. E.L. Doctorow described writing a book like this: "It's like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." I think this can be a metaphor for life, not just for writing. I know there is fog -- I see it -- but I also know that on the other side is some destination which I desire, even if I do not yet understand what it is or where it is or what it will mean for me. This is progress.
I hope your 2009 was as productive as mine seemed to be, and that 2010 will find you able to achieve that which you wish to grasp.
The Final Snippet: "After you finish shopping for shoes, we really need to have a discussion." (man speaking on a cell phone, overheard at the mall)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Back from Breck
Two days back from my writers retreat in Breckenridge. Sigh. I miss having three gourmet meals a day magically appear, and I miss having someone guard my writing time as if it were incredibly important, shushing the other writers who have gotten chatty.
I miss looking out my window at Slope 8.
I miss being surrounded by other writers -- what a rare treat that was.
I do not, however, miss the altitude.
And truth be told, I have slept exquisitely well back in my own bed, in my own house, and am glad to be back around my miscellaneous family members and Colorado Springs pals. You can only run away from your life for so long.
But, incredible amounts of work got done, by me, and I would hazard by the other participants as well. I have been fielding email after email filled with good news -- so and so wants to read my entire manuscript! I solved the plot problem with my project! Time well spent, indeed.
My proposal will finally be completely done by the end of this week, based on incredible input and feedback I received while on retreat, and am happy to say it will go out to some agents who have requested it shortly thereafter.
I am fortunate to have been able to go on this retreat -- as I mentioned in previous posts, thanks are due and hereby proferred (again). But the takeaway lesson for me is always to find some way to retreat whenever possible -- whether by finding a coffee shop away from your regular routine, or by holing up in your home office wherever it might be, in order to truly shut out the world and concentrate on your work, your art, your story. Whatever it takes.
It doesn't need to be Breckenridge to be a retreat. All it takes is your determination to get away for a brief time and make progress.
I'm going to try hard to remember this and to do it...I challenge you to do so as well.
The Final Snippet: "Sometimes you shouldn't touch the buffalo." (no explanation)
I miss looking out my window at Slope 8.
I miss being surrounded by other writers -- what a rare treat that was.
I do not, however, miss the altitude.
And truth be told, I have slept exquisitely well back in my own bed, in my own house, and am glad to be back around my miscellaneous family members and Colorado Springs pals. You can only run away from your life for so long.
But, incredible amounts of work got done, by me, and I would hazard by the other participants as well. I have been fielding email after email filled with good news -- so and so wants to read my entire manuscript! I solved the plot problem with my project! Time well spent, indeed.
My proposal will finally be completely done by the end of this week, based on incredible input and feedback I received while on retreat, and am happy to say it will go out to some agents who have requested it shortly thereafter.
I am fortunate to have been able to go on this retreat -- as I mentioned in previous posts, thanks are due and hereby proferred (again). But the takeaway lesson for me is always to find some way to retreat whenever possible -- whether by finding a coffee shop away from your regular routine, or by holing up in your home office wherever it might be, in order to truly shut out the world and concentrate on your work, your art, your story. Whatever it takes.
It doesn't need to be Breckenridge to be a retreat. All it takes is your determination to get away for a brief time and make progress.
I'm going to try hard to remember this and to do it...I challenge you to do so as well.
The Final Snippet: "Sometimes you shouldn't touch the buffalo." (no explanation)
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Transitions
A while back, I wrote about change, and how even while it can be painful, it is ultimately a good thing.
So, I guess it's a good thing that I changed my plans?
Yeah. It is.
I was fortunate enough to be invited to spend a few more days at the amazing retreat where I have gotten so much work done in the last week or so. For this, I owe thanks upon thanks, upon thanks. Seriously. If there is such a thing as a karmic debt, which I doubt (and for which suggestion I will likely be lectured at for hours by a particular person who knows who he is), then I owe BIG.
However, this opportunity comes with a small price -- I've had to say goodbye to the writers and agents and editors with whom I have bonded over the last week, and prepare myself to find something in common with a whole new group.
I found what that thing is, or things -- we are people, and we all write, and we all love words.
And I must say, this new crew strikes me as quite cool and fun and interesting. They showed up with tequila, which, really, is the hallmark of all really cool people....Patron Silver to be precise.
And so, while it may continue to be a word party, a party of word slingers all slinging words, with tequila tossed in, I only see myself embracing this latest change, after welcoming it with open arms.
And for some of my compatriots who have gone back to their lives, I say this:
Naked Hot Tub Guy: Get some swim trunks
Ms. Gale: Yes, we do quite like our new arrival a lot, and on your scale he gets the elusive compound: sex and popcorn
Girl Robin: Even a low maintenance hairstyle is a hairstyle and I can't wait to live according to your theory
Ms. Randall: Your found poetry is only slightly less exquisite than your written poetry
House Hemmingway: Thanks for the pliers
Mr. Hoffman: Yes I will bear your math-genius children...SET!
Ms. Fairbank: limericks are always appropriate, as are gnomes
Ms. I Can Make Anything Sound Like Sex poetess: never have herbs been so...appealing
Ms. Musician: keep reading out loud and keep writing your heart.
And I remain: Deb, in the Kitchen, with the giant Potato Masher.
Wonder what impression the next crew will leave?
The final snippet: "Oh, my. I think I need rubber gloves for this..." (don't ask. Really. I won't tell anyway.)
So, I guess it's a good thing that I changed my plans?
Yeah. It is.
I was fortunate enough to be invited to spend a few more days at the amazing retreat where I have gotten so much work done in the last week or so. For this, I owe thanks upon thanks, upon thanks. Seriously. If there is such a thing as a karmic debt, which I doubt (and for which suggestion I will likely be lectured at for hours by a particular person who knows who he is), then I owe BIG.
However, this opportunity comes with a small price -- I've had to say goodbye to the writers and agents and editors with whom I have bonded over the last week, and prepare myself to find something in common with a whole new group.
I found what that thing is, or things -- we are people, and we all write, and we all love words.
And I must say, this new crew strikes me as quite cool and fun and interesting. They showed up with tequila, which, really, is the hallmark of all really cool people....Patron Silver to be precise.
And so, while it may continue to be a word party, a party of word slingers all slinging words, with tequila tossed in, I only see myself embracing this latest change, after welcoming it with open arms.
And for some of my compatriots who have gone back to their lives, I say this:
Naked Hot Tub Guy: Get some swim trunks
Ms. Gale: Yes, we do quite like our new arrival a lot, and on your scale he gets the elusive compound: sex and popcorn
Girl Robin: Even a low maintenance hairstyle is a hairstyle and I can't wait to live according to your theory
Ms. Randall: Your found poetry is only slightly less exquisite than your written poetry
House Hemmingway: Thanks for the pliers
Mr. Hoffman: Yes I will bear your math-genius children...SET!
Ms. Fairbank: limericks are always appropriate, as are gnomes
Ms. I Can Make Anything Sound Like Sex poetess: never have herbs been so...appealing
Ms. Musician: keep reading out loud and keep writing your heart.
And I remain: Deb, in the Kitchen, with the giant Potato Masher.
Wonder what impression the next crew will leave?
The final snippet: "Oh, my. I think I need rubber gloves for this..." (don't ask. Really. I won't tell anyway.)
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Reaching Lofty Heights
The great thing about a writing retreat taking place at 10,000 feet above sea level is that it is extremely conducive to getting actual work done. Mostly because no one can breathe after taking a flight of stairs at the altitude (no one = me), and therefore are physically encouraged to find a nice quiet spot and bond with their computers, manuscripts or journals.
So, much work is getting done. By me.
I wondered before I came on this retreat if it wouldn't after all end up more like a really literate party than a working vacation thing, but have been really impressed at how much real work seems to be getting done by everyone. Lots of nooks and crannies here at the lodge for folks to hide away in. Still, plenty of socializing with like-minded folks is taking place, and what a treat that is. Whatever your 'thing' is in life, do not underestimate the power of like-minded groups -- to feel as if you have known people forever, whom you've actually just met, is amazing.
Plus, where else in life would one find a group of people who are familiar with the entire canon of Stephen King, and can discuss his short stories in depth?
I am a fortunate person indeed, to be in this place, at this moment, and at this point in my writing, and can only see good things coming from this time. Thank you's are owed, and are hereby proferred (and if you are an intended recipient, you already know who you are and how grateful I am).
I try to write every day, for at least a little while, and here, I have been putting in large chunks of writing time. When this interlude is done, I think I will find my small bits of writing will come easier, and I will, instead of looking for ways to avoid writing, renew my efforts to expand the time I can spend on it. Not because my committment is renewed -- but because I will feel a sense of loss at not doing it. It is addictive, with an almost physical response, seeing so many words flow so easily from myself when some days writing a grocery list can feel like pulling my own teeth.
Recently, I said to a friend, a self described word nerd, that while he likes playing with words (as do I), I like making them work as well. And right this minute, as I write this entry here, I know the joy of making the words work.
The final snippet: "All compliments shall henceforth be accompanied by a side of slaw." (From Matt, and also for Matt.)
So, much work is getting done. By me.
I wondered before I came on this retreat if it wouldn't after all end up more like a really literate party than a working vacation thing, but have been really impressed at how much real work seems to be getting done by everyone. Lots of nooks and crannies here at the lodge for folks to hide away in. Still, plenty of socializing with like-minded folks is taking place, and what a treat that is. Whatever your 'thing' is in life, do not underestimate the power of like-minded groups -- to feel as if you have known people forever, whom you've actually just met, is amazing.
Plus, where else in life would one find a group of people who are familiar with the entire canon of Stephen King, and can discuss his short stories in depth?
I am a fortunate person indeed, to be in this place, at this moment, and at this point in my writing, and can only see good things coming from this time. Thank you's are owed, and are hereby proferred (and if you are an intended recipient, you already know who you are and how grateful I am).
I try to write every day, for at least a little while, and here, I have been putting in large chunks of writing time. When this interlude is done, I think I will find my small bits of writing will come easier, and I will, instead of looking for ways to avoid writing, renew my efforts to expand the time I can spend on it. Not because my committment is renewed -- but because I will feel a sense of loss at not doing it. It is addictive, with an almost physical response, seeing so many words flow so easily from myself when some days writing a grocery list can feel like pulling my own teeth.
Recently, I said to a friend, a self described word nerd, that while he likes playing with words (as do I), I like making them work as well. And right this minute, as I write this entry here, I know the joy of making the words work.
The final snippet: "All compliments shall henceforth be accompanied by a side of slaw." (From Matt, and also for Matt.)
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