Thought for the Day

Imagine if our schools were funded like our wars.


Imagine.


* * * * *

Lemon Season House

Sorry to have been so out of touch, but as the school year approaches and autumn begins its cool slide into my life, I've been trying to catch up on all the house chores such as gardening and tidying up my life, I mean, my house.

We've some new plans at the Lemon Season House (that's the nickname we gave our home - it's an anagram of the street we live on).

So, here's some highlights of my ordinary life & what's happening in our home--

1) In spring we are getting chickens.

I have wanted chickens since I arrived in this rural community, but I had no idea where to begin (even after talking with friends who had chickens), it just seemed too complicated. Then a good friend of mine got chicks and began from the very beginning--without a chicken coop, without a chicken run, without the items needed to feed them--just 6 incredibly cute chicks she was keeping in her house. Watching her go through the process of building a coop, a chicken run, and learning how to care for them made it not as overwhelming. To see it from its start to finished allowed me to organize "life with chickens" in my mind.

While she was away camping, my daughter and I let her chickens out every day, fed them seed and clover, and mostly, really enjoyed them. We looked forward to waking up to see the chickens and returning at night to put them to bed. When we arrived at night, we were like rock stars as our chicken fans met us promptly at the door of their coop.

I had been wondering if I really wanted chickens, but the experience of them reminded me that I'm truly a farm girl at heart. So, yes, this spring, we will be getting chickens and building a coop.


2) New Writing Studio-- My husband saw these "Tuff Sheds" at Home Depot and thought it would make a nice writing studio for me. I was hesitant when he told me about them, "You want to put me in a shed?" was my first reply. However, yesterday I saw them and they are incredible. One was so big it had a loft. Still, I couldn't spend $2000-$3000 on a writing studio for myself when I knew we had other things we need to do to the house as well as knowing we could take a great vacation for $3000.

However, while I was wandering around the parking lot of Home Depot, I saw one like this (actually 10x10) for $699. While I couldn't feel good about a $2000+ studio, I could feel good about a $700 one. So, plan #2 for spring '08, new writing shed, I mean studio.

3) Ten Year Anniversary in Lemon Season House--
To celebrate our ten year anniversary here in our home, we bought (drumroll please)-- a new doorbell. For the last ten years, we've had a broken doorbell so we decided to honor our home by giving it a new sound. While we could have had a doorbell with Westminister chimes, we chose the one you could change from "dog barking" to "bird song" to "We wish you a merry christmas." Yes, it's silly, very Spenser-Gifts-ish, but I love it. Right now, it's set on bird song, so every time I enter the door, I press it to hear a bird singing in the stairway. Oh, the little things in life...

* * * *

As for poetry? I've had 3 poems accepted by the online journal W*O*M*B. Other than that, the mailbox has been quiet.

The Original --Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues

***Note Allen Ginsberg in the background.


"Get Born. . . Suckcess"

So you love Palindromes? Watch this--

Here's Weird Al doing "Bob," a spoof on Bob Dylan's vintage video. Btw, I recently learned that Allen Ginsberg was in Dylan's orginal version of this. No kidding.

The Students of Blake

Ocean to my Right of me, Sand to the Left, Here I am...--

I spent the week at the ocean. Not to be confused with the Atlantic where people actually swim, but the cold NW Pacific where you run from the waves or fly across the shore on a skim board. Every time I go to the ocean I want to sell all my things and live at the ocean.

Because the weather on the Washington coast is usually grey, these ocean towns never really expanded too much. There is one market. 3 kite stores. 2 pizza places. A bazillion Tsunami Warning Escape Route signs and trailer of horses on the beach. There are a couple new hotels, but it's nothing like Seaside, Oregon where condos now hover over the beach like building blocks.

After September, the ocean becomes deserted. I love to go there in the winter during the storms and walk the beaches. I curl up with my books by the fire while the waves pound against the shoreline. It's a writer's place to live. There is no reason to go outside. There is no reason to garden because your garden is dunes, wild strawberries and sea grass.

At school, we were brainstorming places to go on a writer's retreat and I suggested Ocean Shores and a friend of mine said she thought it was so ugly there. It made me wonder what I'm drawn to. To me, it's beautiful--fat loud waves, grey wet sand. Perhaps, it's nostalgia. I spent many summers at the ocean when I was younger. My teenager years were spent walking the beach with my girlfriend whose parents had a summer home there. I'm not sure what, but I love it there. Maybe because it's dog-friendly. Maybe because where we stay, even in summer we can feel as if we're the only ones on the beach. Maybe because when I'm at the ocean, I realize how little I need to be happy. All my material things at home are useless here. Basically, all you need is a few bits of clothes, a bathing suit, a pair of sunglasses and Tevas. The rest is extra.

On this trip we came across a huge flock of sandpipers. They allowed us (even with my wet golden retriever) to move so close to them. They were these miniature, feet-flying little birds and I thought about Elizabeth Bishop and her poem--

Sandpiper


The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.

The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.

--Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.


The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focused; he is preoccupied,

looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.

* * *

So I'm home again dreaming about autumn. Wishing for the gray months when things stop growing outside so I can turn my attention inwards and retreat back into my cave like the good non-social poet I can be.

Best Online Journals...

So, I want to submit to a few online journals, but I've lost track of the good ones. I know I love Blackbird, but who else?

Who would you recommend I submit to?

Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity - Review

Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Creativity by Susan O'Doherty, Phd

Paperback: 220 pages
Publisher: Seal Press (May 24, 2007)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1580052061
ISBN-13: 978-1580052061

______________________________________________

I'll be honest, I'm always looking for ways to unblock creativity even though I see myself as a highly creative and productive person. When I heard MotherTalk was looking for reviewers for Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued by Susan O'Doherty, I thought this was a perfect way to start off my writing life after grad school as there are some creativity issues I struggle with-- most revolving around the balance of my writing life and motherhood.

I felt hopeful reading the opening. O'Doherty says that some of her early negative beliefs about creativity are with her and she needs to still overcome that every day. She suggests, "I do this by reminding myself daily that I have a right to pursue my dreams. I set aside one day a week in which I do nothing but write for eight hours. . .as much as it goes against the grain, I have learned to say no to request from friends, relatives, and even the PTA if they interfere with my sacred writing day." The book helps women artists and writers set boundaries for themselves and respect the idea that creativity may go against the general path of society, but to welcome that and follow it.

What I appreciate about this book is that O'Doherty hits every issue a woman could have for being stuck creatively. She travels us back to our childhood, makes us look at our role models, past successes and failures, our shadow selves, our lives as mothers and the feelings that come with that, the perils of success, the challenges of being a woman artist and speaking to that issue specifically, as well as growing older as an artist.

O'Doherty was able to share her own troubles and challenges as a creative woman and writer in the world. Since she looks at other women's stories, I thought it was important that her life was also considered. Seeing what she has overcome made me respect her ideas and advice as she has experienced some of the struggles she is helping others with. At first I resisted the early chapters where we return to our childhood to figure out where our negative beliefs about art or creativity came from, though ultimately I was able to take something from them through the other women's stories. O'Doherty also reinforced a few of my beliefs such as to realize that when we're being pulled from our art or not finding a way to have it in our lives is usually "when we most need our art to sustain us."

For me, the section called "The Impossible Position: Managing Motherhood and Creativity" was worth the price of the book for any artist/writer mother. This is the area I struggle the most with in my life and the examples from the author's life as well as another writer mother made me once again realize I'm not in this alone in the plate spinning act.

The main point of the chapter was "it's usually possible to carve out time for self-expression if we truly believe we're entitled to it." And that's seems to be one of the main struggles creative women have--the belief that art is a luxury and by writing or painting or creating, we are somehow being selfish (that phrase that shot us like an arrow as little girls: "Don't be selfish...") I wrote about this a while back in Permission to Write. O'Doherty's book supports the belief that we all deserve to follow our creative passions and how could I not love hearing that message reinforced page after page.

While the chapters on returning to our childhood to figure out who gave us these negative beliefs about creativity were probably my least favorite parts of the book, the later chapters on motherhood, fear of success, and creativity in our later lives were fascinating. Especially the chapter on success where a woman artist begins to have some success and then everything comes to a stop. This chapter explores how "when our work begins to garner attention and especially when we faced with the task of promoting it" we do a little self-sabotage and sometimes just allow ourselves to fail. She suggests, "Self-promotion is even more complicated for women, who have often internalized cultural prohibitions against 'pushiness.'"

She believes that some women fail when they start to be successful because "there is no way to draw attention to our work without attracting notice to ourselves." O'Doherty looks at all these issues we keep as women artists and writers. She offers exercises at the end of the chapters to explore our deepest issues as well as examples of other women's struggles so we can be the outside observer looking in at their lives. Sometimes we see someone so unlike ourselves we know exactly why they are having the troubles they are having, sometimes we can only see ourselves.

This would be an excellent book for a woman who wants to return to an artistic or writing life, but feels as if she's not sure where to begin or why she's having such a hard time creating. If you are stuck, seriously stuck and perhaps, carry some of those childhood issues with you, this book will help you through them. It's as if you have your own handy-dandy therapist to keep in your purse.

And for other women who either aren't stuck or just need the occasional reinforcement, the book does that as well. It's a bit like hanging out with your artist friends and listening to their stories, except in these stories, everyone is being honest. There are no false images of perfect families, no hidden insecurities being covered up. Here, everyone tells you that their life isn't perfect and the struggles they have to be working at their craft. O'Doherty is your own personal cheering section and this book can help return confidence lost and offer insight to why a creative block may be occurring. If you really want to write, paint, dance, create, ____________(fill in the blank) and you have many reasons (a.k.a. excuses) for why you're not doing it, this may be the book to help get you back on track.

The final word on a creative lifestyle: There are no excuses, if you want it, it's there for you.

Sign

This quote was on the readerboard I passed in the town next door to mine--

"Art is spirituality in drag."


Just thought I'd share.

New Blogger in the World - Debra Jarvis

My friend Debra Jarvis is blogging here.



Her new book IT'S NOT ABOUT THE HAIR: AND OTHER CERTAINTIES OF LIFE & CANCER will be coming out soon by Sasquatch Books.

You can pre-order your book on Amazon for delivery Sept 28th, 2007.

What makes Debra fabulous? She's my friend, she baptized my daughter (and nothing was better than having my daughter baptized by a writer), and she's hilarious, positive, and what I hope to come back as in my next life.



Here's what she wrote about the book, which tells you a little about her and how the book came about (make sure to visit her blog on how her family is reacting to the book!)--

From Debra Jarvis--

I am the general oncology outpatient chaplain at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA). I see patients who are receiving chemotherapy, getting radiation, having their blood drawn, or waiting to see their oncologists.I was in my fourth year at the SCCA when I received the upsetting news that my mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. However, I didn’t have much time to be disturbed about it because five days later I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I couldn’t decide if her case or mine was the most disturbing, so I settled on being equally disturbed about both.

Still, like having your car break down when you work at an auto repair shop, I thought if you had to have cancer, it was pretty convenient to work at a place that treats it.“But you’re the chaplain! You should be immune!” I heard this from a lot of outraged people, as if I had some special spiritual protection.

So what if I’m the chaplain? I’m a Christian, the faith that’s all about the crucifixion of the guy who is considered the Son of God! I mean if the Son of God can’t get a break, why should I? I’m only the chaplain.So I chose to have my surgery and chemotherapy at the University of Washington, the medical center affiliated with SCCA. During my first appointment with my oncologist she made it clear she completely understood if I wanted to go elsewhere if I felt uncomfortable or for reasons of privacy.

“Why,” I asked, “would I not want to be treated at a place that is filled with people I know and love? And why would I not want to be treated at a place where I have witnessed the finest care given in my twenty years as a hospital chaplain? And above all, why would I not want to be treated at a place where I know the location of every single restroom?”She got my point.

Besides knowing the staff and the location of the restrooms, I had another advantage. I had seen people deal with cancer a thousand different ways—some inspiring and some less so. I’ve listened to patients who tried to pretend cancer is a million yucks. It’s not. It’s not even a hundred.And I’ve listened to people who are whiny and tragic. Even if your situation is tragic, it doesn’t feel good to whine—for very long. Forgive me if I sound harsh. I’m not talking about expressing your feelings, I’m talking about whining, and there is a the difference.

Whining is basically about being stuck. You are stuck telling the same story in the same way in spite of everyone’s efforts to help you resolve it or reframe it or find meaning in it.

Somewhere between the joking and whining, there is this precious place of absolute centeredness—peace in the eye of upheaval and chaos. It is an assertive kind of peace because it takes effort to stay grounded and centered while things swirl around you. It’s not as if you’re just sitting there blissed out, denying your pain or your fear. It means you feel your feelings, give them a voice, and then move on.I have read a new patient’s chart and thought, "Holy-Jesus-God-and-all-the-saints! What a disaster!" But then I met this patient, and she was all upbeat and grateful for this and grateful that. She said, “Here’s a funny thing that happened on my way to brain surgery . . ."I wanted to say, “Have you read your chart lately?” But I could tell she knew exactly what was going on and was being completely authentic. It was all in how she chose to be with her situation. She was her Best Real Self.

That’s how I wanted to be: my Best Real Self. For some people that means being more private about it, but for me, that meant being very open about my diagnosis. So I sent out e-mail updates on my treatment progress. Friends and family wanted information, and they also wanted to know how I was with what was going on. And my therapist friends wanted to know how I was with how I was.Knowing that time is precious and e-mail can be overwhelming, I included just a few thoughts and feelings in each message. I wanted to write more about what surprised me, what helped me, and what disappointed me, but it didn’t feel right to send six page e-mails. It’s an e-mail, not an electronic book.

I learned much about cancer from being a patient, and probably the most astounding thing to discover was only a small part of the cancer experience is about medicine. Most of it is about feelings and faith, and losing and finding your identity, and discovering strength and flexibility you never knew you had. It’s also about looking at life and staring death in the eye. It’s about realizing the most valuable things in life are not things at all, but relationships. It’s about laughing in the face of uncertainty and having the courage to ask for more chocolate and less broccoli.

And, if you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s about realizing cancer is the best excuse for getting out of practically anything—except chemotherapy.And although many people asked me how I felt about it, what it was going to be like to lose it, and how I was going to deal with not having it . . . it’s not about the hair.

Amanda Auchter on Poetry Daily

Amanda Auchter's poem "The Wounded Angel, 1903" is on Poetry Daily today! Congrats!

Amanda Auchter on Poetry Daily

Amanda Auchter's poem "The Wounded Angel, 1903" is on Poetry Daily today! Congrats!

The Novel I Was In....

The day I had to put my cat Emily to sleep, I had this sick feeling I had been written into a novel. I even questioned Free Will, as each detail of the day of the seemed to have be placed there for me to discover, or not to, that eerie image only the reader notices, while the character goes along with her day thinking she has choices.

Monday didn't start out with Emily dying, but waking up to find that my daughter's leopard frog was dead. As I mentioned, though it's a little weird that the frog died on the same day as we knew our cat would be put to sleep, this seems even odder given that in Chapter three, the same thing happened to our betta fish and our greyhound. This is what I mean by my life being taken over by a novelist, there was too much foreshadowing for my tastes.

And there were these weird comic moments--like in Steel Magnolias when Clairee grabs Ouiser during the graveyard scene and yells, "Hit her!" To which Ouiser responds, "Are you high, Clairee?" We had a few of these scenes. Like my daughter carrying her dead leopard frog to the vet in a small plastic tank and someone asking, "Oh and what are you taking to the vet today?" Then later, her setting the frog down only to have the tank tip over and yet, Pumpkin the frog still stuck to the ceiling of the tank. My daughter's reaction when we said, "He's upside down, Honey" was "Well, he has suction cups on his feet." And when my daughter saw Emily's tongue out the side of her mouth, she said, "It looks like she's studying."

These strange moments of comic relief and yet, after I had put my cat to sleep and ran back in the room one more time to say goodbye, as I walked out the door into the waiting room I heard this familiar song and I thought, "No way are they playing this now." As I listened I realized that yes, the song that was on the radio speakers was "In the Living Years" by Mike & the Mechanics. Truly, it was as if the writer put this in for a little mood music. ( I wasn't there that morning when my father passed away,I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say, I think I caught his spirit later that same year I'm sure I heard his echo in my baby's new born tears, I just wish I could have told him in the living years). And after I shook my head at this, I walked out to the car to find my husband in the car with my daughter crying as Fergie sang "Big Girls Don't Cry" on their radio.

Whose in charge of the soundtrack these days? Apparently it's a god, a writer with a sense of humor or one who really just likes to make sure all the details are in place. Later that day, my husband and I heard a cat meowing in the PLU dorms and we both thought we were losing our minds. I went to bed realizing how big the universe is and watching satellites pass above my house, telling myself to remember this feeling when I'm upset about something minor like a new scratch on my car or my husband accidentally deleting all my digital photos from my week at school. It's a good reminder that's it's not the *things* in life you remember, but the way the willow tree looked in a certain light, the song on the radio, the pink towel I held my cat in, those moments I never expected. I live for them and against them.

We're onto a new chapter or maybe one that hasn't been written yet.

What's on My Mind Tonight...

You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.

~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, Chapter 5

-

"If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't." ~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, Chapter 5


-

...you're not how much money you've got in the bank. You're not your job. You're not your family, and you're not who you tell yourself.... You're not your name.... You're not your problems.... You're not your age.... You are not your hopes.
~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, Chapter 18

-

“When the fight begins within
himself, a man's worth something.”
- Robert Browning, 1855 -

Verse Daily!

Too cool! I'm on Verse Daily today and what a fantastic job they do. Here's the link - Verse Daily

It's for my poem, "Praying to the Patron Saint of Saved Marriages" from 5 a.m., which has become one of my very very favorite literary magazines. They not only have the best poems, but the best quotes in "Quotes without Comment" such as these:

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful. And so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."
George W. Bush

and

"I was a Republican until they lost their minds"--
basketball star Charles Barkley

* * *

My poem is in the Quirky American Issue along with poems from:
Nin Andrews
Alicia Ostriker
Dorothy Barresi
and others...

If you haven't read 5 a.m., I suggest you get your hands on a copy or sign up for a subscription. They have yet to disappoint me. Ed Ochester and Judith Vollmer are the editors and they really do an incredible job of choosing INTERESTING poems! Imagine.

*

More Info--

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that any donations be made to the
Liam Rector Scholarship Fund at The Writing Seminars of Bennington
College, to organizations in support of Free Speech, or to The
Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP).

Sad News...

Sadly, this is the end to many poets these days and through history....

From the NY Daily News:

Poet & prof Liam Rector, 58, kills self

A famous American poet and college writing instructor killed himself with a shotgun blast yesterday in his Manhattan apartment, police said.

Liam Rector's wife found his body in a chair in their W. 12th St. flat in Greenwich Village about 8 a.m., police said.

Rector, 58, had written and edited numerous books of poetry and taught at universities throughout the country - including Columbia and The New School in New York.

At the time of his death, Rector was serving as the director of the writing seminars program at Vermont's Bennington College, a program he had founded.

His friend and the country's 14th poet laureate, Donald Hall - whose term ended on Aug. 2 - said Rector's loss will be felt by many, especially his students.

"He had many friends and many people who admired him," said Hall, 78.

"He ran the program at Bennington College, and he's affected thousands of people that way."

Rector's wife, Tree Swenson, was weeping uncontrollably outside the building - called the Mark Twain - after finding her husband's body, neighbors said.

* * *

Liam Rector on The Academy of American Poets



Age Moves
by Liam Rector


Age moves in the hound
As it was in me moving
Through forest I found

As to dog I went
That year scrounging
Through Manhattan....

The wood opened out,
Unlikely in the city,
As to boy slandering

To leave his fitful home,
Bright he might survive
With his pen-knife only.

Just Stuff--

Great discussion about titles on Anne Haines blog here.

* * *

Just catching up on things. For all of you who sent me links or told me your blog addy was accidentially removed, I shall be updating my list briefly.

* * *

Beginning to feel better. Life moves forward as always.

* * *

This summer has been a long opening act for autumn. And I can't wait. My favorite season is cooling us off, painting the leaves red, and telling us poets it's okay to go back inside and write.

It's late. I'm just back from a day of endings.

The final picnic at my MFA program was tonight. I'm sure back at PLU right now, people are still wandering around the campus and dorms or playing pool in the basement of the house we spend much of our time. Many will be packing up and leaving in the morning, a few, like myself left tonight.

I had a strange ending to this residency. My graduate reading was on Saturday night and Sunday was my class graduation. But on Saturday, I learned my cat's (Emily, named after the poet 14 years ago) health was getting worse. Right before I left for college she was diagnosed with a tumor in her mouth. The doctor had said she thought maybe 3-4 months. She had no idea how fast it would progress and how it did. By Sunday, she wasn't eating. On Monday night, I had hitched a ride with another poet from around my area to come home early to spend time with her.

This morning I woke up to find my daughter's leopard frog was dead and I also knew (I knew it last night) that today would be the day I'd have to put Emily to sleep as she could no longer eat or drink.

It would seem it was coincidence that the leopard frog and Emily died on the same day, but last year in January, we woke up and my daughter's betta fish was dead-the same day we were putting our greyhound to sleep.

We've tried to figure out, why two pets leave on the same day. Is it energy? Are they like the women at dinner who leave for the restroom in pairs? Is the frog/fish, the "disposable pets" a sort of escort for the larger pets? It's bizarre and beyond coincidential. A sort of canary in the coalmine for the grim reaper in the pet world. I'm not sure.

What I do know is I've done a lot of crying and again, another day has felt like a week. Today seems to be the day of endings-- one wonderful cat, one funky leopard frog, and I have officially shut the door on my MFA program. I can only hope that tomorrow offers me a new beginning.

It sort of feels as if we're in that place where the novel is shut and we're left wondering what's next.

More soon. And especially more about living in a scripted world...

More on Dreaming Awake - Tapping into your Unconscious to Write

Here are a few more thoughts on how to get into "the zone" for your writing.

One novelist here (who doesn't believe in writer's block) said to treat the subconscious as a muscle and approach it as something that needs to be exercised. I've heard another poet who sits down to write every day say the same thing. He said, "You wouldn't just go up to bat and expect to hit a homerun without practicing and warming up."

One poet told her that in a class with Richard Kenney, he told his students that every day they need to write down three images that they see each day. Another poet said this technique trains us to be more in the world because you have to pay attention and be aware of your surroundings. Someone said that doing this and seeing so much material around her and knowing that her next poem, story, or essay somewhere around you is a good feeling.

Other ideas--

Stop writing before you finish. Hemingway did this. Sometimes he'd stop in mid-sentence, just so he'd have a place to begin the next day mid-thought. I wonder if this. . .

;-)

Use a line at the top of the page for a prompt.

As for writer's block, the reasons are emotional-- fear of success or failure, setting your standards too high (Think Stafford "Lower your standards"), boredom, wanting to be perfect at first, fear of "losing oneself" in the work and the feeling of "loss of control" when that happens.

Writer's block is based on emotional issues the poet/writer is having and not on a lack of ideas. When you are feeling writer's block, it's because there is something inside you that is putting up a YIELD sign and you need to work through why you are feeling this way.

I tend to be someone who will force her way through writer's block. When the wall comes up, you can figure it out and walk around, or you can pull out your bulldozer and knock it down. I tend to knock it down by just continuing to write, even if it's painful and what I'm writing is terrible, I would rather write terribly than not to be writing at all.

My favorite line from the class (which I misquoted a bit in my journal) was this:

"Originality is achieved through diligence, it does not come naturally."

Which means, while we each may have our own "gifts," we succeed because our of diligence, perseverance, and dedication and not because we "were born with it."

Writing is a choice--
Excuses are the tissues (or glass of wine) we turn to at night.

To write a book, be a writer, write a poem, finish a manuscript (or not finish a manuscript) is a choice. Busier people have written books and done bigger things.

We make choices as writers to write or not to write. Each day is an opportunity for a new beginning. You can wake up and say, "Today I will write a poem," or you can choose to do something else. We all have the same amount of time, what you choose to do with your time is your choice.

Be aware of how you are spending your time. If you want to write and are not, look at how you are setting up your day. Do you set yourself up to fail? Do you tell yourself you need at least an hour to write? What self-imposed ideas have you given yourself about writing? Which of these hurt your creative process? What new idea or thought can replace an old one? ("I can write a poem in twenty minutes." "I can start a poem in twenty minutes. I will finish this novel by October.)

Listen to your self talk. Are you always saying "I don't have enough time." Or "There wasn't time to write today." ? There is always time to write, there is just needs to be the choice to do it. What excuses (job, family, gym, pets, etc) do you use not to write? Be aware of your thoughts and what you say because they become your reality.

Give yourself the time to write. Exercise your unconscious. Sit down and put your fingers to the keyboard. Write something without judging it. Then do it again.

Remind yourself we are all struggling with many of the same things and we can each get past them.

Now, go forth. Write.

What Made Me Laugh Today--

THE FAMILY MONKEY by Russell Edson

We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather recklessly with funds carefully gathered from grandfather's time for the purchase of a steam monkey.
We had either, by this time, the choice of an electric or a gas monkey.

The steam monkey was no longer being made, said the monkey merchant.
But the family always planned on a steam monkey.

Well, said the monkey merchant, just as the wind-up monkey gave way to the steam monkey, the steam monkey has given way to the gas and electric monkeys.

Is that like the grandfather clock being replaced by the grandchild clock?
Sort of, said the monkey merchant.

So we bought the electric monkey, and plugged its umbilical cord into the wall.
The smoke coming out its fur told us something was wrong.
We had electrocuted the family monkey.


*

From The Clam Theater (1973)

Blogroll

I just made a few changes in my blog template and may have accidentially deleted a few of my fellow bloggers in my blog roll.

If you were deleted from my list OR would like to be included on my blogroll, just drop me an email and I'll add you to my list.

Notes from PLU - Dreaming Awake

I attended a session on how to find inspiration (or get into "the zone" to write) by fiction writer Ann Pancake, who is an incredible person and writer.

Yesterday the class shared techniques of what they do to access that unconscious part of themselves. As she puts it,there aren't too many books that explore that "without being to woo-woo."

Here are a few she recommends:

Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande (1932)
On Becoming a Novelist by John Gardner (1983) --there's a section in here about self-hypnosis.
Writing Down to the Bones by Natalie Goldberg (1996)
Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott (1997)


Some students recommended -
Zen and the art of Writing by Ray Bradbury
Writing the Australian Crawl by William Stafford

And also the Stephen King book called On Writing was supposed to be good as well.

*

Techniques to tap into that unconscious place and be in "the zone" vary and are individual to each writer. We are each unique beings that need to find what works best for us.

Here were some things that worked for others--

Have a ritual (make a pot of tea to bring to your writing place, light a candle, say a prayer)

Find your best time to write (either early morning, midmorning or late at night-- she says a lot of times it's that closeness to sleep that helps, before your brain has done something --say pay the bills--that turns off that your unconscious mind)

Set a writing time/place and stick to it - the visual cues or stimuli around you will eventually tell your brain "this is where I write" and you can faster access your unconscious mind.

Do a repetitive task-- laundry, dishes, filing, running, walking

Use music - some students have a soundtrack for their novel that they play over and over while writing. Some use just one song.

There a CD called "Creative Mind" that is supposed to help access your unconscious mind. One student listed to a CD of waves.

Ask for help before you begin-- Literally, ask the unconscious, God, universe, whatever you believe or call it for help with your project.

Listen to the voices in your head. Allow yourself to follow what they say even if it doesn't make sense or isn't logical

***

To generate work, write from "the zone." Write in fragments and the things that come to you that you don't completely understand. Allow yourself the freedom of not editing, just moving forward. You can edit later.

*
For me, the best suggestion was that - Before you begin writing, ask yourself "What do I need today" or "What to I need tonight" and write down what you'd like to accomplish in your writing.

We're finishing up part two of the class this afternoon, so I'll add a few more things about this later today.

Check in from PLU - Final Residency

I'm typing from my dorm room at PLU. This is my final residency as a graduate student. It's odd because we're not required to go to classes. We can attend if we choose to, but all our work and credits have been completed. We meet in the morning to discuss our manuscripts and we give a reading later in the week. Some students have opted to teach their critical paper. I did not. My thought is that I'm here to say goodbye and then move forward --or-- I'm not out to impressed anyone, to be the over-achiever this time, it's time to move to the back of the class then out the door.

Dorm/college/MFA life is interesting. There are so many people in this program now it can feel lonely. It is the opposite of what you think. Less is more intimate, more connection. More = a thousand highways you drive by yourself. I feel that way, then a friend arrives in my room with a plate of organic cherries. They are cool from the refrigerator. I feel better, less alone, more connected.

On my desk is a bag of peppered beef jerky. I haven't had beef jerky in hears, but for some reason I craved it today. On my shelf I have a box of Junior Mints, Raisinets, oatmeal raisin granola bars, and a box of Total cereal. For me, much of dorm life is all about the snacks.


* * * *

Notes from today's morning talk--

This morning Kevin Clark discussed accidents that come up during the writing of a poem. He says you might fail and you might risk embarrassment, but this is a risk you have to take. "Sometimes when you're most embarrassed, you're getting closer to what matters. You have to risk." He believes our authentic vioces are signaled or involved with the way we incorporate, organize, or deal with external stimuli. He says though you may go deep inside yourself for your poem, allow outside sources to take you to a diffent place.

"Art should demonstrate the guise of accident." Alice Fulton.

"Poetry is the art of surprising yourself." Kevin Clark


* * * *

Now back to my day already in progress.