How do you define fun?

December 19, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

I don’t feel like writing today. I also don’t feel like Christmas shopping, or wrapping the few gifts I bought yesterday, or going to the grocery store, or cleaning the kitchen, or thinking about what to cook for dinner tonight, or picking up the books and papers from around my office, or reading submissions, or answering emails. I feel a bit like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, all work and no play makes Kim a dull girl.

I need a free day to just have fun. Although, I sometimes struggle with the concept of having fun. Does it have to be playful? Or adventurous? Or a special event? Does it involve laughter and other people? Or can it be quiet and relaxing? I really enjoyed the Star Wars last night, but would I describe that as having fun?

I loved the throw-back aspect of the story and the way they worked the original characters into the story. It felt much like putting on an old comfortable pair of slippers. So I suppose that was definitely fun. But I was troubled by my son’s reaction to the movie. He was disappointed that there wasn’t anything spectacular or different about the way they approached the story. He clearly wouldn’t have described the whole experience as fun. In fact, he likened his feelings about the movie to the way he feels when Michigan State loses a football game. But I don’t think it had anything to do with the movie itself. It probably was one of those unexpected consequences of grief.

Matt was by far the biggest movie buff in our family. His knowledge of movies and directors was nothing short of amazing. A few days ago we were having a discussion about Al Pacino, and I asked what did he get an Oscar for. We looked it up on Google. Matt would have been able to tell us not only the movie, but the director and if that director had won for any other movies^**. The was always a big build up for blockbusters like Star Wars, and after the movie he would give a post-movie commentary.

I noticed his absence, too. I always do. Last night when they ran the previews of the next X-men movie, I remembered the way he talked me through the last X-men movie. Memories like that make me smile. And as we left the movie theater, I wondered what he would have thought about the movie.

The more I think about it, I did have fun last night.

Fun doesn’t have to have a ton of excitement and special effects. If you come away from the activity feeling a sense of satisfaction and enjoyment, then it was fun. Truth is every time I finish one of these blogs I come away with a huge sense satisfaction. So maybe writing is fun, too. It’s all in the way you think about it. Of course, cleaning the kitchen or grocery shopping may require a lot more thought.

Until next time. . .

** Al Pacino won best actor in 1993 for Scent of a Woman. The director was Martin Brest, who also directed Meet Joe Black (1998) and Beverly Hills Cop (1984).

Five Last-minute Gift Ideas for Writers

December 18, 2015 confidentwriter5 Comments

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.

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.
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.
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.
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.
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

December 17, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

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

December 16, 2015December 19, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

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. . .