Author: confidentwriter

December Writing Challenge · The Writing Life

Five Last-minute Gift Ideas for Writers

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Today I’m venturing into the belly of the beast to start Christmas shopping. Though I generally enjoy going to the mall, the crowds this year have been a bit much. People honking in the parking lot because someone is waiting for a parking space. Long lines. Poor climate control. It’s been in the seventies here in Atlanta and the stores are either too cold or too hot. No happy medium. Nonetheless, I can put it off no longer. But before I go, I thought I’d share 5 last-minute gift ideas for the writer in your life.

  1. A covered coffee mug. My writing mentor, Rosemary Daniell, recently had the
     misfortune of spilling her coffee on her laptop, sending her into technology hell. She ended up having to buy a new computer and now is dealing with the new computer learning curve. Be a dear to your coffee drinking writer and get them a cup with a lid. Pop by Starbucks and check out their huge selection.
  2. A seat cushion and/or lumbar support cushion. Sitting for long periods of time at the computer can wreak havoc on your back. I often wonder if part of the problem with keeping my butt in the chair is that it makes my back hurt. Though I know
    my chair is heavier on design than comfort or support, there’s no denying that sitting too long does cause problems. The more comfortable the seat, the longer we’ll be willing to sit. They are available through Amazon or at Bed, Bath and Beyond.
  3. A subscription to his or her favorite literary journal or magazine.         As a writer it is helpful to know what types of stories, essays and poems are being published. And if he or she is trying to get published in a particular journal or magazine, it’s a good idea to be familiar with the publication’s aesthetic. There are a ton of wonderful journals to choose from. Of course, I think Minerva Rising Literary Journal is pretty special. But so is Ruminate, So To Speak, Mom Egg Review and so many more.
  4. A writer’s retreat or conference. Nothing boost creativity and productivity like time spent in the company of other writers. It helps the writer see his or her work with fresh eyes. It generates ideas and develops networks. You can choose from exotic locations like Tuscany or Paris. There are also many local conference and retreats. Poets and Writers has a data base that sorts by location, type of conference and price.
  5. A membership to a local museum. In The Artist Way, one of the basic tools for cultivating a creative life is regular artist date. According to Julia Cameron, “ An artist date is a block of time, perhaps two hours weekly, especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, you inner artist.” Having a membership at a museum allows the writer to make frequent trips and really spend time contemplating the exhibits. Some of my best work grows out of time spent in museums. 

I hope that helps. I’m off to the mall.

December Writing Challenge

The Woes of Getting Older

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I got eye plugs today.

Who even knew there was such a thing?   

Though the procedure was quick and painless, I’m still thinking about it several hours later. I now have tiny gel-like plugs inserted in my tear ducts to prevent drainage. They are there as a treatment for severe dry eye, a problem I have been dealing with for several months.

The tears that lubricate your eyes are supposed to last in your eyes for 15 to 30 seconds, then dry up. My tears dry up instantly. Consequently, my eyes have been sore and itchy a lot. It has also started to effect my vision.  But to be honest as my doctor explained the next step in my treatment, I didn’t understand how blocking the drains were going to keep my tears from evaporating instantaneously. All I could think about was how much this news felt like the news I received a few years earlier when another doctor told me I needed bifocals. Back then I had actually cried. I couldn’t imagine myself with those little half-moons at the bottom of my glasses. Fortunately, that they don’t do that anymore. The lens are progressive, so no one need know they are bifocals. We won’t even get into the whole tilting your head to read in your glasses thing or walking down the steps the first time. It suffices to say it was an adjustment. 

All of this was going through my mind as he stuck the plugs in corners of my eye. I tried to console myself by focusing on the relief that this procedure was going to provide. I even tried to make small talk by casually asking what caused dry eye. 

“Age is the primary cause,” he said, but then quickly added, “That, and most medications.”

I’m not on any medications.

I’m not one of those women who hides her age. I don’t generally lament about getting older. But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what aging means to me. Fifty used to be so old. I vividly remember my grandmothers when they were fifty. I can almost see them in their flowered housecoats and cat-eye glasses. And when I think about that, its hard to believe I’m the same age. I try to tell myself that fifty isn’t what it used to be, but then they put plugs in your eyes. What’s next?

Let’s not answer that. 

December Writing Challenge · Depression

Sad and tired

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It was hard to come to the page today. Every thing inside of me is ready to give up on this whole blog idea. Most of those feelings stem from the fact that I’m tired and sad. 

I’ve felt that way when I woke up, but dragged myself to yoga in hopes of lifting my spirits. All throughout class, I struggled not to cry. I know that kind of goes against the point of yoga, but crying in yoga is a trigger for me. The summer before Matt died I wept through every class. I thought the tears were the result of the tension between my husband and I. Our last child was about to go away to college and for the first time in twenty-six years it would just be the two us. Regrets from the past and uncertainty for future, made both of us emotional. However, the more I think about how deeply I wept that summer, I can’t help but wonder if there was something in my spirit that knew. Crying in yoga brings up an impending sense of doom.

I made it through the class without crying, but then the yoga teacher came over to encourage me. She told me not to worry about not being able to do all the poses. She shared a story about how when she was a little girl her ballet teacher insisted that she learn the splits in a week. She couldn’t, so she quit ballet. A few years ago she finally learned how to do the splits, but only on one side. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I hugged and thanked her, then rushed out of class.

My mood sank lower. And though I have managed to get a few things done today, I really just want to lose myself in a book.

But then there was today’s blog and the whole December blog challenge. Was I ready to give up? Couldn’t I just be proud of the fact that I made it through fifteen days.? Would not writing make me feel better? Or would I feel worse?

I don’t want to give up, but it’s really hard to put yourself out there when you’re feeling down. The fear of judgement or additional hurt can be overwhelming. That’s why people tend to hide their sadness. It feels safer, even though it isn’t.

“So don’t be frightened, dear friend, if a sadness confronts you larger than any you have ever known, casting its shadow over all you do. You must think that something is happening within you, and remember that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why would you want to exclude from your life any uneasiness, any pain, any depression, since you don’t know what work they are accomplishing within you?”

? Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

It’s much more fun to write about things that make me happy, but sadness is a part of me too. I have to be willing to let it come through my writing. So though it’s not my best piece, today’s blog is done. 

Until next time. . .

Inspirational Musing · Uncategorized

Grown-up Christmas List Part 2

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I’d like to start my Christmas shopping, but don’t have any idea of what to buy anyone. I asked my kids to give me a list of what they want. My son said that’s too easy. Instead he suggested I think about what I would like him to have. The first time I asked my daughter she gave me a list of what she called lame-things-to-get-for-Christmas – a dressy winter coat, ear buds and moccasins with fur (but not UGGs). But then she made it clear that she would be quite disappointed if she received anything off this list. Practical, but not fun. When I asked her a week later for the real list, she replied that she would get back to me.

That was two days ago and still no list.

It’s hard to think up a wish list when you have everything you need and most of what you want. Not to mention the fact that most of our closets and drawers are stuffed to the brim. The overflow moves to the garages, and when that’s full to a storage unit. And as a result, there is more than 2.35 million square feet of self-storage space in the United States, which is equivalent three-times the size of Manhattan island.

Those statistics make the idea of a grown up Christmas list more compelling. The focus would be on the change we’d like to see in the world and/or ourselves.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept and decided I should practice what I preach. So here are the five things I want for Christmas.

  1. I want the food I eat to be an extension of my faith and integrity. It should be honoring to my body. It should come from farms and facilities where the people are treated with dignity and paid a living wage. And the meat should come from farms with husbandry and management practices that promote animal welfare. I’m sure there are those who might argue that eating meat in general doesn’t promote animal welfare, but that’s a debate for another time.
  2. I want walking and yoga to be more than just something I do occasionally. I want it to be the way I live. I want to crave the activity like coffee in the morning. I want those two activities to be my go to for refreshment and renewal.
  3. I want to eliminate the stigma associated with mental illness. To see it treated with the same compassion and concern that we treat cancer or other illnesses so that we can give people the help they need.
  4. I want compassion and love to be the driving force between our interactions with one another.
  5. And on a personal note, I want to be a part of book club that deeply discusses books from the point affecting social change.

A bit lofty and difficult to shop for, I know. But writing that list has helped me figure out what to buy.  I might not need a list from my kids after all.

Books · The Writing Life

Living Your Personal Legend

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They were looking only for gold,” his companion answered. “They were seeking the treasure of their Personal Legend, without wanting actually to live out the Personal Legend.

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

While reading The Alchemist, I felt my quest to be a published author was akin to Santiago’s quest for the buried treasure. He believed finding that treasure would miraculously change his life. He would have everything he ever needed, and in turn find contentment. That’s exactly what I thought would happen to me once I wrote a novel and had it published.

Publishing became my panacea. I believed that accomplishment would solve all my problems. I’d be famous and rich, which would inevitably lead to some sense of nirvana. It was like standing on the shore waiting for my ship to come in, especially since in the beginning I spent very little time, if any, actually writing. When I finally started to write, I was easily frustrated by how challenging it can be to translate the ideas in your head to words on the page. More often than not, I would give up after a while. I wanted the book, but not the work required to produce it. Writing was all about the finished book not about becoming a writer. I wasn’t much interested in living out my Personal Legend. I just wanted the treasure. The fame. The fortune.

Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that a publication rarely leads to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. However, I asked myself must I write? And I discovered I must, even if I never publish a book. I challenged myself to learn all that I could about writing so that I could grow as a writer. I sometimes wonder what would have happened to my personal quest if the current trend of self-publishing had been as popular twenty years so. Must likely I wouldn’t have two graduate degrees in writing and a real love for the craft.

All that to say, living out your Personal Legend isn’t about the bottom line or whatever you consider your “treasure.” It’s about who you become in the process. I find this particularly true after fourteen days of continuous blogging. I have had to make a conscious decision on how I spend my day and what I think about. Consequently, rather than obsessing about things that are bothering today, I thought about today’s post. I even found myself thinking about revisions for the next chapter of my novel. I am learning the self-discipline needed to truly live a writer’s life.

Paulo Coelho explains it this way in a passage that precedes the one at the top of the blog:

There is only one way to learn,” the alchemist answered. “It’s through action. Everything you need to know you have learned through your journey. You need to learn only one thing more.

I believe that one thing for me is follow-through. So onward I go with the December challenge.

Until tomorrow . . .

Books

Best Book I’ve Read This Year

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The Bookends column in Sunday’s New York Times Book Review asked sixteen authors what was the best book, new or old, he or she read this year. Only two of the books listed stood out to me.

The first one was Outline by Rachel Cusk.  It’s about a woman writer who goes to Athens in the summer to teach a creative writing class. Not only do I love reading stories about writers, I also enjoy reading about places I’m either familiar with or curious about it. Although its only an hour and half away from where I live, I’ve never been to Athens. I think it would be cool to read the book and then spend the day in Athens. But the last line of Siddhartha Deb’s explanation for why he loved the book hooked me. He wrote, “The last word in this amazing novel is “solitude.” Who wouldn’t want to read a book that is described that way?

The second book is Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick. It’s about the complicated relationship between mothers and daughters. I wrote about this issue in my still-not-revised first novel. I thought it might provide much-needed insight into the subject. And as an added bonus, it might be just the motivation I need to revise my novel.

Reading the article made me look back over the books I read this year in order to determine which one was the best. The Alchemist wins hands down. The last twenty or so pages in my book are filled with asterisk, underlines and comments. The passages spoke directly to my heart, which only seems fitting since the book was really about following your heart in pursuit of your dreams. I had planned to go back to those notes and write about them once I finished book. But you know how that is.

IMG_2012In the margin of one page, I wrote a question: what is my heart saying? I wasn’t able to answer the question. My heart just ached from losing Matt. Fortunately, I see a wonderful acupuncturist, who recommended that I rub rose oil over my heart every morning. She said it would help to lift some of the heaviness I was carrying just after the one year anniversary of Matt’s death. Throughout history, rose oil has been used to relieve symptoms of depression. Now, every morning after I get out of the shower, I rub rose oil over my heart. That simple act has helped me become better at listening to my heart.

All that from a novel. It truly was the best book I’ve read this year.

 

 

Uncategorized

Happy Birthday, Frank!

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Today is Frank Sinatra’s 100th birthday. I’ve been looking forward to it all week, and I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it’s because his music seems to chronicle the details of my life.

“My Way” was one of my father’s favorite songs. I can still see him behind the wheel of his black 1974 coupe de ville, singing it as if it was his personal anthem. The stanza, “For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught. To say the things he truly feels.”, perfectly describes the way he lives his life.

Without a doubt, “My Kind of Town”, is my absolute favorite Sinatra song. For the twelve years that we called Chicago home, it was my theme song. My heart soars every time the skyline comes into view during the initial approach into Ohara airport. And sappy as it sounds, I begin to sing:

This is my kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of people too
People who smile at you
And each time I roam, Chicago is
Calling me home, Chicago is
Why I just grin like a clown
It’s my kind of town.

And when we moved to Atlanta the words, “And each time I leave, Chicago is. Tuggin’ my sleeve,” would bring tears to my eyes.

“The way you look tonight” reminds my of my husband. He went through a serious Sinatra stage about fifteen years ago. It was the only music he would listen to. One night when he came home from work, he pulled me away from cooking made me dance with him to that song. The memory of him whispering, “And that laugh wrinkles your nose. It touches my foolish heart” still makes me smile.

There are so many more Sinatra moments that I could write about, but I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s Holiday party.

HAPPY 100TH BIRTHDAY, FRANK!  I’ve got your under my skin.

 

 

Home

Facebook Addiction

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Rule number three of the December writing challenge was no interaction on any social media –– Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, etc until the blog was done.  The first few days felt like being on a diet. All I wanted to do was check my news feed and scroll through pictures on Instagram. I felt disconnected from the world. There were even a couple of times when I almost cheated, but I stuck to my guns. There were some days when I wasn’t able to start writing until after five. So consequently,  I wouldn’t be ale to go on social media until seven or eight at night.

I’d scroll though Facebook and Instagram trying to catch up on a days worth of post, but it’s tedious reading through everything in one sitting. To be honest, it’s kind of boring. By the fourth or fifth day, I’d check the notifications to see if anything caught my interest, and if not, I’d moved on. There have actually been some days when I didn’t even think about checking Facebook until I get in bed around eleven.

Another consequence of this blog is that I’ve only watched television twice in the last eleven days. I’ve found myself engaging in more conversations with my family or doing other things. Of course, this particular thing could be contributed to the fact that all the good shows are on hiatus until January or February. Nonetheless, I’m intrigued how much this challenge has changed the way I spend my day.

Even though I don’t have a set time to write, I plan when I’m going to write based on the other things I have to do. When I’m done writing, I don’t really have much interest in staring at a screen.  I feel more content in general with my life.

That was the thing with my Facebook addiction. I found myself feeling bad because everyone’s life seemed more interesting and exciting than mine. There were also times when a picture or a comment would trigger a grief response that could last the entire day. My husband would console me by saying that Facebook was just the highlight reel of everyone’s life and that it wasn’t fair to judge my life based on someone else’s highlight reel. While I knew that was true, I still got sucked in.

Apparently, I’m not the only person who has this problem. A blog post in Mind Body Green listed social media as one of the 11 Things You Think Are Improving Your Life (But Are Actually F*cking It Up). It stated that not only does social media waste time, it also negatively affects self-esteem.

One of my major excuses for using Facebook was keeping in touch with old friends. But the truth is I don’t really “keep in touch”. I looked at pictures, watched videos and read articles. There was very little personal interaction. Facebook is no substitute for real connection.

I was reminded of this when I received a lengthy email from an old friend. She wrote that she was thinking about me and wanted to re-connect. Her email updated me on her family and also shared how often she thinks of Matt. I felt loved as I read it. I felt connected to my friend.

I haven’t written my friend back yet, because I had to write this blog first. But when I do, I’m sure it will be a boost to both of our self-esteems.

 

Inspirational Musing

Grown Up Christmas List

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Gloria Steinem’s “The Top Ten Things I Want For Christmas” speech from a BETTY’s holiday show, recently appeared on Huffington Post. Much like the David Letterman Show, it started at her number ten wish and worked its way to the number one. When I clicked on the link I assumed it would be an Oprah-ish list of the hot gift ideas for the season. I’ve been struggling with what to get the people on my list. I was truly looking for ideas. I didn’t know it was written by Gloria Steinem. The first thing on the list was a bit surprising given my expectations:

10. An abject apology from Donald Trump for being a Birther; anti-immigrant; a builder of buildings that look like big Dunhill cigarette lighters; the world’s most punishing source of Green Cards for women who marry him to get one; daring to rate women as no longer Tens when he himself has never been a One; going bankrupt multiple times in order to stick other people with his bad-judgment debt; pretending he ever hit a home run when actually, he was born on Third Base — and oh, yes, setting the hair weave industry all the way back to Rogaine.

Truthfully, the biting tone almost made me close the page, but curiosity got the best of me. And as I read through the list, I wondered what top ten things did I want for Christmas.

Writing Christmas list were easier when we were kids. We hardly even had to think about it. Toy”R”Us sent the catalog directly to our house right after Thanksgiving. All we had to do was transfer the names of the toys from the catalog to our list for Santa. And even as I got older, so many of the things I wanted could be bought.

Not so true anymore. It reminds me of the lyrics from the song “My Grown Up Christmas List.”  So much of our list is not for ourselves, but for our families, our communities, and our world. 

That being said, I think it would be a good exercise to write a grown up Christmas list. Stopping to think about what’s important to us, gives us an opportunity to evaluate how we spend our time and money. It might even lead to new ideas and goals. 

The only thing I want for Christmas, I know I can’t have. My son isn’t coming back to this world. But I am here, and I want to “be the change I wish to see in the world”(*). 

It would be cool if now I went into my Grown Up Christmas list, but there is so much that needs our collective attention that I want to think through what types of things I can do to make a difference.

Looks like I have the subject of another blog.

*The quote is from Mahatma Gandhi

Inspirational Musing

Finding Joy in the Season

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Last year we didn’t put up any Christmas decorations. The general mood of the season was too much for me. The music too cheery. The lights too bright. The shopping too busy. And though I participated in a few Christmas activities, the spirit never hit me. Only a heightened sense of sadness. How could my family ever be normal again? The feeling of holiday joy seemed to die along with my son.

The season wasn’t a complete loss. The pastor of our church had just written an Advent book had a scripture verse and devotional each day through Christmas day. Reading it every day helped to connect me to the real reason for the season, though I still was extremely relieved when it was all over. 

To be honest, I assumed what I experienced last year would be how I felt for the rest of my life. But few months after  Christmas my daughter shared how sad it made her that we didn’t decorate the house for Christmas. I completely understood that it was a preemptive message.

Fortunately,that conversation happened early enough in the year that I didn’t have to think about it. But the closer it got to December, the more I started to worry about things like Christmas stockings. Our original stockings were thin red felt with our names written in a glitter pen. When I bought them twenty something years ago,  I wasn’t thinking long-term. The boys were toddlers, and I figured we’d get nicer ones at some point down the line. When my daughter was born, I bought her one that looked similar to the ones we already had. Family joked for years that hers was bigger than everyone else’s. I intended to buy new velvet stockings with our name embroidered on them, but never got around to it. Now I could never buy new stockings.

Then I worried about Christmas morning. Last year, we decided to go on a cruise at the last-minute so that we wouldn’t have to face Christmas at home without him. But there were no plans for a cruise this year. How would we get through the day?

I began to look at HomeAway and other vacation rental sites to  find somewhere to go close to home. The challenge was finding a location that had activities on Christmas day. Hanging out in a strange place with nothing to do wasn’t going to make the day any easier than sitting at home.

I even tried to find something near Disney World. The kids would be able to hang out at the parks or Downtown Disney if they wanted to. But I couldn’t find anything that worked for us.

We seemed destine to spend Christmas at home. There was no way I getting out of decorating. The thought of decorating was easier to accept once I decided to tune down what my younger son coined “the Christmas bomb”. We’d have a simple tree and that would be it.  

But as fate would have it, that was not to be. A problem with the venue moved my husband’s company holiday party to our house. The plan quickly went from simple to full Christmas tilt.

I thought I could handle it all until we started to put up the first tree. The smell of eggnog and festive music in the background was too reminiscent of previous years. I could almost see Matt sitting on the sofa ribbing his brother as they drank bourbon spiked eggnog. Not a surprise that I found myself in tears. The next few days were really hard.

But even with the sadness I’ve felt the last few days, a thought keeps coming to mind. Matt loved Christmas. Even as an adult, he would be eager to get the decorations up.He never complained about helping. It almost felt as if he was encouraging me to not loss the joy of the season.

At a recent holiday event, the second verse “O, Come, All Ye Faithful” rang louder than ever before:

Sing, choirs of angels,

Sing in exultation;

Sing, all ye citizens of heav’n above!

Glory to God,

Glory in the highest;

DSC_0269_1344Matt is a citizen of heaven. The thought of him celebrating Christmas with the Lord made me smile. And in that moment singing with 4,ooo other women, I felt the Christmas spirit.

It’s only the ninth of December. I still have a lot to get through, not the least of which is his birthday. But I’m feeling hopeful that joy of the season won’t pass me by.