Category: Work
Thursday, Apr 19, 2012 | Dream, Readings, Running, Work |
light beyond dark
I love seeing all the runners go by my window, more and more as the days get sunnier. There is one young woman who zooms past virtually every day at a kickass pace. (I kind of want to be her.) My office looks onto the street, and our street seems to be a popular route, though I can’t imagine why; traffic is heavy and there’s nowhere to run but the sidewalk. Personally I prefer running away to the park, and dashing around the grass and trails.
I’ve had a few excellent runs this week. Dare I say it? I’ll whisper it. My hip feels back to normal.
Today is another sunny day. And my mind is sunny to match. It’s been an up and down week. I made the mistake of trying to write intensively far too early into the book-visioning process. The funny thing was, I knew the problem before I began, knew that it couldn’t possibly work, and yet … I had to go through the experience to get it. I’m dumb like that. But I’m not sorry. Yesterday, I wrote for eight hours straight. It wasn’t what I’d intended to write. But it was such a happy day. It reminded me why I write. I don’t do this because I have to. I do this because I love to. Writing is my version of singing. It’s my version of dancing. (Though I like singing and dancing too). It is, quite simply, the thing that I do best.
Yup, I’m going to keep doing it.
I’ve got ideas, though. Notions, plans, intentions, dreams. Maybe even a vision.
:::
This month, I’ve slowed down on the Juliet publicity front. Next month it gets all busy again. I’m enjoying the break, though I’m looking forward to crawling out of my cave and interacting with real people again. *Note to self: Remember to re-attach mouth to brain before exiting cave. Also, reacquaint self with basics of small-talk.
Here’s what’s coming up …
:: May 15. 7pm. Indie Night at the Starlight in Waterloo! Heather Birrell, Robert Hough, my brother’s press, plus a bunch of other writers, and me!
:: May 16. Type Books in Toronto! With Heather Birrell! (It’s almost like we’re going on tour together.) I’ve got the time roughed in as 6-9pm, but that sounds long. I’ll get back to you.
:: May 27. 7pm. Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo. More info to come on this event, which sounds pretty wild.
:: May 29. 9am. A Different Drummer Bookstore in Burlington. This event is called Books and Brunch, and I’ll be reading with Dennis Lee (!!) *note to self: Do not start reciting Jelly Belly poems. That probably gets really irritating.
My other brand-new-activity-in-May is helping to facilitate several 45-minute writing workshops for teens. Anyone done this before? Tips? Advice? Games? Ice-breakers? Can you tell I’ve never done this before?
Tuesday, Apr 17, 2012 | Music, Word of the Year, Work |
:: Practicing matters. And you can practice anywhere. (She’s practicing, on her lap, the song she’s memorized and is about to perform.)
:: Being willing to try matters. Signing up for an extra recital, in preparation for a more intense competition next week. Wearing a new dress (and running shoes; just in case). Brushing your hair.
:: Being supportive matters. Even when the recital is long. Even when there are no snacks. Even when you have to do everything imaginable to keep quiet. (Toward the end, CJ was making silent faces to entertain himself; by the last performance he was literally whacking himself on the head repeatedly, but kind of quietly. So he made it through.)
:: Performing matters. Getting up in front of an audience. Doing your best. Sharing what you’ve learned. (At this point in any recital in which any of my children have ever played, I start to cry. It’s involuntary, and happy, but I do try to rein myself in, lest I embarrass the performer.)
:::
On this third day of writing week, I am reminded of a few more things that matter, a great deal, to me.
:: Exercise matters. Note to self: no matter how you may want to, do not sit for two days straight without taking time to go outside and move. And breathe.
:: Perspective matters. It’s hard to get perspective inside a room with a closed door. See above, plus add in kids and friends and husband.
:: Kindness and gratitude matter. I can’t write what I want to write by force.
:: Preparation matters. I am at the beginning of a project, not the middle, not the end. Here are some metaphors. You can’t go into labour if you’re not even pregnant. And, the work I need to do now is like composting. Layering information, layering ideas. It looks like waste at this stage. It won’t look so good, either, when it starts to rot. But given time, and turning, it will become rich soil. And then I can plant a new garden.
:::
Read between the lines, and you’ll guess. This is/will be a tough week. But I’d like to note two lovely and unexpected things that have happened so far.
:: On this third day of my writing week, I wrote a new song.
:: Yesterday, the power went out, and I wrote for several hours with pen and paper. I liked it a lot. No distractions.
Friday, Apr 13, 2012 | Blogging, Play, Spirit, Work, Writing, Yoga |
at the farm
When we were driving home from Kingston, post-Easter holidaying at the farm, I was filled with ideas. Future plans. Things I want to do someday. Big things. Let me get them down on the page. (And maybe you’d like to share your big plans in the comments below; I’d love to hear them.)
** Bike trip through Ireland (or another beautiful place). With the whole family, if possible.
** Own a horse. Actually, own two horses, so AppleApple and I can go riding together.
** Write and record an album of songs. (This would require devoting several hours a day to singing and playing.)
** Spend a year training five or six hours a day and run an ultramarathon (like the Canadian Death Race, even though that’s a terrible title for a race).
** Tear down our garage and build a small apartment that could house university-aged children.
** Share a getaway in the country with friends, for retreats, summer holidays, etc.
** Get a dog. (I don’t know why that seems like such a big thing, but it does!)
But upon reflection, this morning, I see that I’ve already accomplished some of the big things I once dreamed of doing, and I want to recognize that too. I wanted to be a mother, and I have children. From a very young age, I intended to be a writer, and I’ve published two books. As a child, I dreamed of being a runner, and now I’ve completed a marathon. As an adult, I was troubled by the fact that I’d never learned how to swim, and I’ve learned. Once upon a time, all of the above were just hopes and imaginings and dreams. I’ve been so fortunate.
Last night I went to a kundalini yoga class. It’s been about a year since I last took kundalini. The experience felt different this time around. In the interim, I’ve pushed my body further than it had ever gone before. But I also learned that my body could be pushed too far, and injured, and that’s changed how I think about effort and pain. I felt so attuned to my own body, last night. It was easy to listen to it, and hear what it was saying — to recognize the difference between the agony of effort and the pain of gone-too-far. I felt more cautious, and yet also more available, more open to the movements, like I could flip a switch and go there. I felt a deep trust — of myself. But here’s the thing. The sense of wonder and discovery is not the same. I’ve learned my body is capable of accomplishing very difficult tasks. I’ve learned that I am strong. When I first started kundalini, now a few years ago, I was utterly amazed, blown away by what my body could do. I had no idea.
Now I know.
That takes away some of the sheen of adventure and discovery. But it also means there is room for a richer, more layered experience. It’s like having the second child. You’re simultaneously more relaxed, more laid-back, and not as blown away by the newness of discovering what it means to be a parent. It’s familiar, it’s known territory.
I think life should have a balance of known and unknown experiences. I’m not sure we get to choose these experiences, at least not all of the time. But I like thinking about what I would choose, if I could. And what I’ve chosen. And how I’m working out that balance in my life right now.
Can I tell you something? I really really really want to write a book in this blog-voice. Not a book based on the blog. But a book that would capture the yearning, reflection, wondering, and experimenting that I feel this blog is really about. Put that on the first list. I have no idea how it would be shaped. But I’m opening my mind to the possibility.
Wednesday, Apr 11, 2012 | Big Thoughts, Book Review, Exercise, The Juliet Stories, Work, Writing |
flying
On this morning’s run, my friend and I were talking about exercising. About how exercise keeps us balanced, mentally. Yet when we most need to move, to sweat, to feel alive in our bodies is often when we are least in the mood for it. Mental strength underpins physical strength; and we don’t always feel strong or motivated or inspired. I still find it unpleasant, every morning, when the alarm goes off early. I feel resistant to leaving my warm bed and the sweet state of sleep. Every single morning. There hasn’t been one morning when I’ve greeted the alarm by leaping up with joy in my heart. But I do it. And within minutes I’ve gathered my clothes, I’m brushing my teeth, and I’m already beyond the yucky feeling of I don’t want to. I’m ready to go.
What’s the lesson here? Establish a habit. Make a routine that runs counter to your immediate instinct. I’ve never once regretted getting up early to exercise. Yet somehow my mind forgets that every morning. But that’s okay. Because my habits and routine remind me. Other tips for exercising regularly, even when you don’t feel like it: Meet someone — makes it harder to change your plan last-minute. Set out your clothes the night before. Get up and go. Don’t think about it, just do it.
Okay, enough with the motivational messaging.
Today is the day I dreamed of yesterday. The kids left for school with minimal complaining. Lots of kisses from the two youngest. Hugs from the two oldest. Quick nap. Cup of coffee. Finishing the last of the interviews for this article. Sitting and dreaming. Quiet house.
Have I told you that next week is a writing week? It will be my first writing week in this new office space. It will be my first attempt to dig into the new book. I may not update here on the blog quite as often; then again, I may need to blog more often, who knows.
Here are four things that are making me happy this morning.
One is the status update of a writer friend I know only on Facebook: “A must read. I simply can’t stop underlining this book!” with a link to The Juliet Stories. (Wish I could peek in her copy to see what she’s been drawn to.)
Two is a book review by my friend Nath, who didn’t tell me she’d decided to blog about The Juliet Stories. I love hearing her thoughts. Maybe we’ll even talk about it someday while we’re driving to spin class together (or biking outside together–soon!).
Three is an invitation from the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival to do a writing workshop with high school students, and to meet students, on two different occasions.
Four is doing interviews for this freelance piece. I think of myself as shy, but I’ve been really enjoying interviewing people. Maybe this relates back to my original thought o’ the day: don’t automatically trust your immediate instinct. Why would I think of myself as shy? I enjoy talking to be people, and do it regularly. In high school, I was genuinely shy. But that’s more than half my life ago. Time to update the mental self-image.
Tuesday, Apr 10, 2012 | Kids, School, Sick, Work |
the face of an Easter egg hunter, worried she’s missing something that somebody else might have found first
This week is ever so slightly refusing to start afresh.
I find long weekends disruptive, being the one at home handling the children (or even sharing the handling). It’s out of my routine. And I’m a routine-centred person. Yesterday the kids were home; Kevin was not. But work went on. At least, I attempted to work. I sent emails. I did an interview. I was absolutely buried in mountains of laundry. I baked bread. I let the kids run wild. I let them play wii for way too long. There were playdates. I was just scarcely paying enough attention. Everything turned out fine.
But, oh, I was so looking forward to today.
And then, just as the kids were putting on coats and boots and packing school bags this morning, literally minutes before my week was due to begin afresh, the child pictured above announced that she couldn’t go. Her tummy hurt. An ache? Nausea? Pain? What exactly? Was it truly school-missing-worthy? She insisted. Finally, I accepted. After all, I didn’t want to send a sick child to school. So here she is at home, with me, in my office right now, wandering the small space, alternately curling in the chair, making the stool squeak as she tries to twirl it, and asking whether she might, just maybe, watch a movie??
Um, no. No rewards offered for missing school. No incentives to repeat this act tomorrow. Is she sick? I’m not sure. If so, she’s not very sick. For which I am appreciative. Tomorrow is another day. I hope to heck we can start the week afresh then. Mama needs some alone-time.
more Easter egg hunters, concerned they might be missing out
(These photos crack me up. Instead of capturing delighted little faces, my camera seemed to have grabbed expressions of vague anxiety and concern: Someone else might be finding something that I want! There were comparisons of basket contents, and much discussion (okay, argument) over how many eggs everyone should be allowed to find. And, in CJ’s case, there was a sort of puzzlement, like: Is this egg all there is? Really? This is what I’ve been looking for?)
but he looks pretty cute here
Thursday, Apr 5, 2012 | Book Review, Reading, Spirit, The Juliet Stories, Word of the Year, Work, Writing |
balancing
Today, I am experimenting. Can I compartmentalize and work on two projects at the same time? I am going to attempt to develop my new character (ie. creative, not-yet-for-profit work), even while keeping several irons in the fire for a freelance piece I’m writing (ie. less creative work-for-pay). The new book, of course, has no due date, no deadline. The freelance piece does. I am obsessive about meeting deadlines (not necessarily a bad thing); except I’m so obsessive that I frequently meet deadlines well ahead of schedule. And honestly, I’m not concerned about meeting this one. I know I can do it. Things are moving along nicely. I know this. Still, my instinct is to worry it until it’s done. Thing is, I can’t finish this morning. There are interviews yet to do and other people’s schedules to take into account. More to the point, I don’t need to finish this morning. The deadline isn’t until next week.
So. Can I step back, set it aside, not worry about it, and work productively on something completely different?
As I say, it’s an experiment. It had better work, because, frankly, this could be my life for a long long time. It already is my life, you say? What with the children, and the cooking, and the triathlon training, and the book-writing? It’s funny, but those things all fit together in a long-term way that doesn’t trouble me. They’re all part of a steady routine, an ebb and flow that isn’t exactly predictable, and yet seems symbiotic somehow. More of this, less of that; more of that, less of this.
If I don’t write a blog post today, I’ll write one tomorrow. If supper is on the table late, well, eat some crackers and cheese, kids. If I have to drop a writing day to take a kid to the doctor, my book doesn’t know it. In all of these circumstances, I’m flexible. But give me a deadline and I focus to the point of compulsion. Hm. Maybe this goes back to childhood: feeling a sense of responsibility as the eldest of five, wanting to please, anxious over any perceived failure, stomach in knots if we were late for school. I was “high-strung.” Maybe, maybe, in some circumstances I still am.
My goal for today: Trust myself. I will get the job done. All in good time. And meantime, there is other work to be done, and it’s just as valuable, even if invisible.
:::
Yesterday, a client of Kevin’s brought him a ripped-out page from the latest issue of Elle Canada. “Tracking the best in movies, books, music and art,” says the page. “This month, we’re inspired by free spirits.” And there is The Juliet Stories! I love that Juliet is being identified as a free spirit. (Wasn’t “spirit” my word of the year when I was writing Juliet?) There’s a dark side to being a free spirit, of course, and I suppose that’s partly what the book is about; but sometimes I wish I were more free of spirit — colourful, creative, adventurous, alive. Writing is my window into all those things I couldn’t actually be.
:::
Finally, two exciting reading discoveries.
1. CJ is “reading” to us. I’m pretty sure he’s essentially repeating memorized text, but he links the words on the page with the words he’s saying. Out and about, he notices and reads signs (STOP is a good one), and he notices words and points out letters and letter sounds that he knows. Exciting!
2. Fooey read bedtime stories to CJ last night. For the record, I still love reading bedtime stories to the kids, but I’m not always available — last night I was walking Albus home from piano lessons. I got home in time to hear the tail-end of the last story, and give goodnight kisses. Sweet.
