Month: September 2018

About dimensions

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It’s quite human — and somewhat convenient — to paint people simply.  It’s much easier to label someone as all good or another as all bad.  I am learning that people are far more than just one “thing.”

I am also conscious that this is the same thing for me… it is possible for me to exist in these seemingly contradictory spaces. I have had a hard time understanding for instance that being angry and expressing my anger does not make me an inherently evil person.  I have a lot of guilt when I express anger — and I don’t know where I got this false belief that being angry equals being a mean person.  Especially when I know that anger is a healthy emotion and that it is basically a way of signaling that I feel an injustice has been done or that I object to how a story is unfolding.

But I think what I have learnt that is truly humbling is that because I was previously opposed to letting myself comfortably occupy these contradictory spaces without losing my identity, I was unable to lend this grace to others.  And it is really sad.  I think I used to see the world as black and white — and in some ways, I still do (but hopefully less so). Living that kind of life can be quite difficult…

I suppose with age I am softening and learning to live in the grey areas and getting more comfortable with not having this purist view of life… It is both refreshing and terrifying… but it fills me with great compassion.

Fringe benefit – this realization of dimensions makes it easier to really enjoy the Meredith Brooks “Bitch” song as popularized by Alanis Morrisette:

I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I’m your hell, I’m your dream
I’m nothing in between
You know you wouldn’t want it any other way
So take me as I am…

Adventure

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Creating adventure.  I want to be one of those people that embrace adventures – right to the point of pursuing them relentlessly.  I think having adventure can help my writing process even as it helps me to live a little.

Sometimes I am extremely disappointed with myself.  I am a typical hermit.  I love being home.  I love sitting on the couch and watching a good show.  I love reading a good book and just chilling.  Writing and the hermit are a match made in heaven.  But I also feel like the hermit is missing out on things — not sure what but I just feel like there is a whole world out there and the hermit is not there.

I wasn’t always the hermit, you know and there’s a part of me that used to enjoy finding new things to do. I believe adventure fuels imagination — and imagination crafts good stories.  Writing and adventure could be a match made in heaven as well.

So I think as I craft a new collectible hobby, I will also write the new adventures I want to take on.  I want to scuba dive.  Maybe do a zip line.  I want to take Pooch to the beach.  I want to see if skydiving is compatible with the hermit.  I want to do a hot air balloon ride. I want to go abroad with Pooch to a dog friendly country. I want to paint on canvas in an artists’ commune.  Maybe learn how to ride a motorcycle.  I want to ride at ATV across some sand dunes.  Camp in the wild. I want to bathe in a river.  Ohhh skinny dip in some warm, natural swimming pool. I want to get lost in a corn maze at Halloween. Prayerfully walk a labyrinth. Maybe read some badly written poetry on an open mic night.  I want to join some random music band’s jam session.  And bring along my dog to make people both uncomfortable and happy.  I would love to be a storyteller — finally do the performance I have crafted. Buy an old gramophone, play some records in the night, listen to this music, and drink champagne while seated on a blanket.  I want to write for four, five, six days at a time… really give myself over to this process of writing and writing and writing.

And… I could go on and on… I want to create adventure and then write about it.  I want to live.

Ventilating issues

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I love confessions.  I often feel like writing things out makes me feel better.

I am working on another project (day job) and one of my colleagues likes to use the phrase “ventilate issues” when we need to have difficult discussions.  I just love that phrase.  So now I want to ventiliate one of my writing issues.

I am doing a re-draft of my short stories.  I am committed to putting something out there soon.  But I am having a hard time silencing my inner critic.  There are some stories that I can’t even bring myself to open up on Scrivener. I am trying all sorts of jedi mind tricks to get myself into it and it’s just hard.

I have always said that I am a better editor than I am a drafter but it looks like my mind wants to show me that it’s not so. I understand that if I re-draft I will feel better about the project.  I know that getting closer to publishing gets me closer to my dream.

I think I am afraid.  Afraid that I cannot produce more than what was in the first draft.  I am afraid that I will piss off my muse and we can’t work.

And then I am struggling with the idea of going pro.  I read somewhere that good writers are born when they decide to go pro.  The whole idea being that when you decide to be professional about your writing, when you cultivate the discipline, then you begin to make big strides.  It seems to me that deciding is not enough.  There’s still a lot more to be done beyond the affirmation. There’s the doing thing… man, I have twisted myself up in knots.

Anyway. I thought if I confess then I will be able to write more.

Ok. There. Issues ventilated.

Channeling the happy thoughts

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Today was a rough day for me.  I was basically okay but had a case of melancholia.  I was very happy when my nap on the couch went by slowly and time didn’t zip through as it usually does. I woke up from my nap without a panic or anxiety so that was great! But I couldn’t explain this sunken feeling.

When I have the blues, if I can explain the source, I am more likely to ride the wave faster.  But I couldn’t pin this one down.

Usually, it is part longing for someone to be with me on lazy Sunday afternoon.  Part of it is loneliness and the tension of walking a space where I desire the alone time too.  Part of it is despair because I can’t figure our fast enough what I want.  Part of it is wondering if this is all that life has to offer.  Part of it is playing victim, part of it is fatigue, part of it is the neurotic brain, and part of it is… just exhausting.

And even after all that, I couldn’t understand why I had this feeling of emotional distress. I couldn’t journal it away. I couldn’t screen it away – you know, watch enough Netflix episodes of a show and put myself in a catatonic state. I tried a couple of empowering thoughts.  A half-ass attempt at meditation.  I tried to get into a quick HIIT workout.  But then there not enough that I could do.

And so I gave in to the sadness and waited for it to seep out of my pores.

It was a long day.

 

Changing direction

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So there are many life defining moments that a writer like me would bookmark.  The first time I read a book and was so moved by the emotions that little butterflies roamed my tummy and I had to catch my breathe.  The first time I felt emotions of love and adoration. The first time I was told that I was loved.  You get my drift…

But there are other firsts which are so significant that they change how you experience life and therefore how you express yourself.  I think I had one of those “Damascus” moments this year.  I want to write differently after this experience (no doubt will be a confessional post one of these days) and the only regret I have is that I hadn’t been writing consistently so that I could see the change.  I’m guessing it would have been awesome to see.

Nevertheless, I think because I have changed how I see life and a lot of my core beliefs have been challenged, my writing will change and indeed has changed.  I feel bolder and find it easier to access my voice.  And I had been searching for an authentic expression of myself for a while – so that’s a relief.

Anyway, I am happy that I am evolving.  Let’s see how it changes my stories.

New habits and hobbies

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I wrote in one of my other confessionals about the need to go beyond my own experiences in order to write about compelling and interesting characters.  Along with understanding my own limitations as a writer, this process of trying to expand my world view has actually prompted me to seek out new experiences.

I want to have new hobbies.  Of course music and reading and indie movies are at the top of my lovely things to do… but I am feeling like I need to get a hobby that promotes physical well being.  I am lazy dog owner which means that I outsource majority of my dog walking responsibilities.  But I would really love to do more with my dog.  So my big goal is to start walking with Pooch.  (You can meet my imaginary version of Pooch on this page – check out Today’s Special). I also feel like it will help me with health goals.

Then I want to explore a new take on music and create a collection of sorts.  And so I am thinking of getting a vinyl habit. I am still stewing on this because I need to have a plan for storage, care, and use.  I love my books and they have a system… I will need a system for the vinyls… but I am so excited to get started.

Then.  I have a secret wish to do roller skating.  Now I am a bit scared with this one but oh! how happy it would make me.  Just thinking about it makes my insides soar! I can see myself moving around and around – such graceful movements. If I was super aggressive, which I assure you I am not at all, I would be especially thrilled to seek out and join a roller derby team.

Maybe this exploration into new bits of me will give me new ways of seeing people and how they view the world.  Certainly how they see it all. By expanding my view of me, I could possibly discover others who I can draw into my world of writing.

Creativity and Discipline

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I am quite surprised, and I probably shouldn’t have been, about how closely related creativity and discipline are.  Growing up, I saw numerous images, movies, novels which cast the creative types – the artistes – in the light of the free-spirited and unstructured characters.  And there was almost always the subtext of unconventional equals indiscipline.

But yo! my own journey into channeling my creativity and expressing it suggests the opposite. It takes incredible discipline to do “your thing.” There is nothing simple about writing.  It takes dedication, habit, regimen, and continuous learning. Even as I dig deep to find a way for these stories to become more than thoughts and fantasies in my head, I am struck by the amount of time it takes to type shit out!

I realized – possibly this year more than any other time in my life – that I want to get better at writing and this requires a daily habit.   And while it is not very easy given work commitments, I finally reached a point where I had to make a decision on whether or not I wanted to be disciplined about this craft.  It takes effort to confront your thoughts on paper and be critical about them.  It takes strength and great honesty to be able to balance the innovation and the convention – because you won’t believe how many rules there are about good writing and bad writing.

It seems that I had a false belief about being a writer.  That it happened organically.  That you were either blessed with the gift or not.  That it is a life that found you.  That it was crafted in the stars.  That it was all supposed to click together on one fine day.  And when it clicked, I would have a book that I hadn’t struggled even one bit to writer.  That I would be so inspired by this story that I would write it effortlessly.  And just like that I would be a best selling romance novelist.  And while I am not ruling out such a scenario entirely, I think I have realized and accepted a simple truth: being a writer requires more than a fair share of self efficacy.  Like other great disciplines in my life, I have to work at it, put in the time, and my body/soul/mind will reward me with the welling up of beauty and the courage to share it with others.

There is no indiscipline in creativity and artistry.

Everybody’s story is delicious

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Sometimes I can be quite nosy.

As I have confessed before I love everything about love.  I enjoy hearing about relationships — between parents and children, siblings, lovers, could have been lovers, best friends who secretly wish that they were lovers — all those delicious little bits that reaffirm that love makes the world go round.  So… I can’t help myself when people tell me they’re married or dating or in a lifelong committment or not dating — I want to why, know when, how did it happen, what did you say, what did he/she/they say, and then… And for me, it’s like one delicious slice of red velvet cake.

And I keep these little stories with me.  Every so often I will refer back to them.  Visit the imagery in my head — hear the words, remember how the stories were told to me, how the teller looked, how their eyes moved, and what I felt when they shared… Sometimes to break up the conversations in my head or to occupy my bored mind.  Other times to enrich a story that I am writing or to give color to a character.

My confession today — these little stories also give me hope that the Big Love that I desire so much and long for so much will soon be mine as well.  Surely with all these wonderful stories going around, one day I will be able to have my own.  Hopefully, it will be about living it daily for a long, long time — instead of daydreaming or wishing or longing… delicious.

Starting and finishing projects

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I cannot tell you how many books I have started and never finished.  How many ideas pop into my head but never see the light of day.  How many things I begin but just never manage to see through.  It’s tough to look in the mirror and face this ne’er finisher.  Why is it so hard to give myself the gift of a dream realized?

I am probably a broken record with this thing. Or rather this not doing thing.  But it feels like I am on this treasure hunt, trying to find what is it that keeps me from doing the things that I want to do the most.

So I saw a therapist about this not doing thing.  I remember walking into her office and thinking, I really need a buddy system with this treasure hunt because sometimes walking the hallways of my mind can be difficult.  I get distracted by all the things I find in there.  There’s a broken heart in one corner, another dream or goal I didn’t achieve behind the springy couch over in that corner, and on and on and on. It really is not that difficult to get side tracked by all my other troubles.  And so, the therapist is my buddy.

Anyway, so I explain to my buddy that I have this not doing thing.   And I tell her how I feel often like I am walking through tar. Knee deep. Thick and sludgy. Dark and just hard to move through.  (I was particularly impressed by my imagery, by the way).

And then she said that the sludge was me.  I was the tar. I was in my own way.

One of the downsides of being low key self-absorbed and neurotic is that I am so intent on finding the big THING that is wrong with me.  That one that I will fix and then  *poof* all my problems (including nail biting) will disappear.  Like the not doing thing, the fixing the big THING is a lie.  There is not that one thing that I need to fix because, by virtue of being human, there is really not all that much that is wrong with me.  I share many of the same struggles that others do.  There’s a little fear, a little laziness, a little procrastination, a bit more fear, and other even more basic human flaws.

Self-sabotage is the lie that builds all these things up into obstacles that I must work and maneuver around.  I have to get out of my own way by minimizing this need to create problems where none exist.  And I have to be more positive and believing.  I have to have enough faith to go from start to finish.

Realizations

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While on my little hiatus, I have been doing some reckoning.  Some of it has been good and some of it has been somewhat shocking.

So, one of the shocking realizations I have had is that I have to think and write and create beyond my own limited experiences.  I know it sounds obvious but there’s nothing like an aha! moment to convince you of what you think you knew.  I was reading an article on how to create heroines in romance novels that the modern woman can relate to.  The article was quite good and it gave some awesome pointers.

But as I read the end of the article, I realized that my readers have all sorts of experiences.  And while my own life serves as great inspiration for stories, it simply cannot be the only source of inspiration for the kinds of stories I want to tell.  You should have seen how big my eyes got as it slowly dawned on me that there is nothing new I would be telling my future audiences and the magic sauce would have to be in my characters.

Oh man – stress!!!

I have this bad habit of writing about the same kind of woman over and over and over again.  It happens mainly because I like to write by the seat of my pants… and it is great when I am doing it but when I am re-reading my writing, it sounds like I have the same woman running around in my stories.

And then I realized another thing.  There is only one remedy to the one woman wonder problem – I have to plan my writing better.  I have to get into the characters before I start writing the story and this is a more intense exercise than I thought.

My final epiphany (with a tiny ‘e’) was that it is time for me to honor the mechanics of writing and not just the inspiration and the art.

A bit tough, no?