Category: Writing
Tuesday, Mar 27, 2012 | Birthdays, Exercise, Sleep, Work, Writing |
Alright blog, what have you got for me today?
This feels like a day for random bits. Things I want to remember about this very moment in time.
**My two eldest children, at this moment in time, have exactly the same shoe size as me. And apparently I have a lot of shoes, because right now my eldest wears a pair of my old running shoes as his indoor shoes at school, another pair as his outdoor shoes, and his winter boots were also formerly mine; and just this morning AppleApple took my pink lightweight tennis shoes to school to be her new indoor shoes. She’s outgrown her old ones. She’s also outgrown all soccer shoes. And this morning started with a lengthy search through her drawers for clothes that still fit. Suddenly all pants are rising above the ankle, and all shirts above the wrist. The very definition of a growth spurt.
**I’m plugging away at my multi-sport activities. This morning was spin class. Do I push too hard in this class? I really give it my all, leave everything in the room; and then look up with glazed eyes at the end of hour and realize it is 7:15am and the bulk of the day’s responsibilities still lie before me.
**I had my first DNF in a race on Sunday. It was a 30km race, and given my injury I could neither train for it, nor hope to complete the distance. I’d accepted that it wasn’t to be a few months ago, but hearing people in spin class this morning talk about their experiences in the same race made me more than a little envious. I feel like I’m holding steady in terms of my fitness. Barely. After such exciting gains last year, it’s difficult to stay positive about just hanging in there. But just hanging in takes commitment too. And I haven’t quit. Four early mornings a week is four more than I was doing two years ago. It’s hard to remember sometimes, but daily commitment and discipline isn’t often or even usually about an immediate reward, nor does it happen because we feel like doing it every day. It’s about making change over time, the steady accretion of experience. Mostly, it’s just about showing up.
**I’m starting to do research on what I hope will be my next book. Kevin and I have marked several writing weeks on the calendar, one per month for the next three months. I’m nervous about diving into a new character and a new world. But I’m curious to see what will come of it. Stay tuned.
**Remember when I used to get a good revelation after most yoga classes? Not necessarily an enormous life-altering revelation, but at least something small, some interesting new way of approaching a problem or idea? And that doesn’t seem to happen any more. It’s made me wonder whether I’ve stopped looking for revelations. Am I going to class free from specific unsolved problems? Or have I forgotten to use that time as a meditative space? I’m not sure. In any case, I took a nice long shavasana yesterday evening, and emerged with the notion that I should learn how to write screenplays. Is that nutty? Maybe it was sparked by reading this article in yesterday’s Globe and Mail about the slow decline of the novel, and the rise of awesome tv shows. A large part of being a writer (for me) is wanting to express ideas and be read, to provide entertainment but also food-for-thought — to an audience. I never got around to writing in-depth about Mordecai Richler’s biography, but one of the things that impressed me about his career was its breadth across the mediums. He wrote frequently for television and radio, and in his early career worked on many screenplays for which he received no credit, but obviously gained valuable experience. Would my abilities fit into other mediums of expression? … that was yesterday’s take-home yoga “revelation.”
**But I’m too tired this morning to follow up. On just about anything. So a quick and dirty blog post it is. And catching up on emails.
**And running birthday party errands for an almost-four-year-old; that will be this afternoon’s main task. The bar for today is set pretty low. I was just glad to get laundry in the washer, and soup in the crockpot after waving the kids off to school this morning.
Friday, Mar 16, 2012 | Big Thoughts, Spring, Writing |
a bird in the bush
Spring. Spring! The last day of March break. My children occupied elsewhere. A quiet and completely empty house (just now). Not-so-deep thoughts. But persistent ones. I’m tired. My body hasn’t made a very successful switch to the time change. I’m listening to classical music, while wearing ear plugs; an odd but necessary combination. Ear plugs signal work-time. Classical music signals calm. This is ramble.
I am feeling, well, drained, rather. The big publicity push seems to be resolving itself, slowing, and I can stand back and breathe. And as I breathe, I think about that phrase “feeling drained.” And it seems to express an almost literal sensation. Because I’ve been pouring myself out, pouring myself into the effort of spreading the word about Juliet. At some point, I will have to stop pouring and start replenishing the well. Which, though not dry, seems to be creaking with complaints.
Patterns. Habits. When something isn’t working anymore, it becomes steadily more apparent, harder to ignore. And then the question is: what to change? and how?
One change would be to break myself of the BlackBerry habit. I’ve become accustomed to receiving new! urgent! exciting! messages throughout the day, and it’s changed my brain — I expect and anticipate the little ping. It’s like a hit of affirmation. I’m not alone! Connect, connect! Trouble is I’m starting to crave the ping even when I’m in the midst of seemingly interesting Life. Worst of all, the ping itself has almost become more meaningful and exciting than the message received. I am Pavlov’s dog.
A second change. I think it’s time to shift gears. To stop writing about Juliet, and start writing on/into/toward a new project. Even if the new project doesn’t take shape immediately. Even if I feel uncertain. If this is what I want to do, go on and do it. It’s been a real pleasure this week to shape a new poem, to see that I can make something with the kind of accessible tone I’d want to read. More of that! Please.
There is a third change, but I have nothing to pin to it. I want to pursue another goal (not writing-related) like the triathlon challenge. I want a particular reason to be outdoors. To run or bike or swim or yoga even when I don’t really feel like it. I am lacking in meditative space right now. I feel almost incapable of sitting quietly and resting my mind. It seems the only time that happens is when I’m working really hard, physically. Some writers turn to alcohol. I understand the impulse. One needs to turn to something. One longs for a mind at rest, at ease. I crave the spiritual rootedness that comes from discipline — and I find discipline in physical effort. It connects me to some part of myself that knows endurance and ambition and suffering, and is rewarded by it. Which probably sounds weird. And isn’t exactly the path of least resistance. I’m only half-heartedly committed to that work at present (partly due to being in rehab for the running injury), and I want to reconnect with whole-hearted commitment again. Stay tuned.
Monday, Mar 12, 2012 | Good News, Writing |
fake front page from December 8, 2000
All this week, I am guest editing the Afterword, which is the National Post newspaper’s absolutely terrific book blog. Since my first real job was at the National Post in their books section (oh, more than a decade ago now; pre-children and post-grad school), the current books editor, Mark Medley, suggested I write about my time there. Which got me all nostalgic, I must confess. And that is the subject of today’s post on the Afterword. More of my posts, on other subjects, will follow throughout the week.
A word on the photo above. When I left the National Post, colleagues in the section surprised me by putting together a fake front page with stories written by them especially to mark the occasion. It was one of the sweetest gifts I’ve ever received, and of course I framed it to keep forever. Below, a close-up. This photo was taken at a Post party, and it’s what I looked like in the fall of 2000. I was in fact pregnant with my first baby, though you can’t tell (and yes that is a non-alcoholic beverage in my hand). I just look at this photo and think: so young. (Also: why the turtleneck, young sexy Carrie? Why?)
I look at this photo and it makes me happy.
Saturday, Mar 10, 2012 | Book Review, Good News, The Juliet Stories, Writing |
this morning’s paper
Kevin and I slept in this morning. Indoor soccer season *at 8am for six-year-olds! is finally over. We must have been tired.
When we finally dragged ourselves out of bed, I picked up my phone to check messages. Here is the first one I saw: “Congratulations on your Globe review, Carrie. You’re probably going to want to read this one.”
Without saying a word, I beelined for the porch, retrieved today’s Globe & Mail, flipped through to the Arts section, and to Books. And found my own self-portrait, which my brother tells me has a Zoolander flavour to it (nooooo!). I also found a really solid review of The Juliet Stories. Exhale.
And then Fooey came to see. “I found your name, Mommy!” She tried to sound out the headline: “sp, sp, sp …” And then Albus asked if he could have the section. It has the funnies in it.
At dinner the other night one of the other writers with whom I was reading said a good review is like a sugar rush. This feels like a caffeine high. I’m not sure it’s quite healthy. Don’t get me wrong, I am not arguing in favour of bad reviews, not at all. It’s that attention of any kind has an unpredictable effect on the human spirit. It’s a dangerous flirtation. This may be my Mennonite roots showing. Guarding against vanity; humility of spirit.
But this is a good and happy and out-of-the-ordinary moment in my life.
So on behalf of all Obscure CanLit Mamas out there, I embrace this unsettling rush, with deep appreciation for a continuing dream. My feet are off the ground — one flash-frozen stride in a long journey.
Wednesday, Mar 7, 2012 | Blogging, Friends, Readings, Writing |
… and she’s off!
Here’s where I’ll be tomorrow (or today, if you’re reading this on Wednesday, March 7th): at the Harbourfront reading series in Toronto, 7:30pm.
Which is exactly where I was a little over two years ago, except then I was in the audience, listening with such pleasure and joy to a conversation between two literary lionesses, Alice Munro and Diana Athill. At the time, I jotted down the moments that stuck out for me, including Alice Munro’s confession (and I’m quoting my own post here) that “she doesn’t consider herself a very brave person, and though she might be a brave writer, it was very difficult to come back from that writing world and have to deal with the consequences of what she’d written. She admitted that she’d caused pain, not purposely, of course; and one could infer that it pained her greatly to have caused pain.” Kevin tells me that both with Hair Hat and now with The Juliet Stories, coping with being published has been much harder for me than doing the writing work itself. And so I appreciated re-discovering Munro’s insight. Maybe I, too, am a braver writer than I am a person.
But I’m trying.
And on that note, here’s also where I’ll also be tomorrow: lunching with a few of my very favourite Canadian book bloggers, one of whom, Deanna, was a friend in grad school. It will be the first time I’ve had the chance to meet Kerry Clare of Pickle Me This or Patricia Storms, who is best known as a children’s author and illustrator (if you subscribe to Chirp magazine, you see her work monthly). Kerry and I spent last week emailing back and forth, questions and responses, and you can see the results of our interview here. Kerry proved both a sympathetic reader and a sharp interviewer, and she’s not afraid to go in-depth even on the blog medium. I must confess that I’m a little nervous about meeting these three. Blogging creates these strange relationships, mediated through the very specific information we choose to share. Sitting down to lunch at the same table — What will we talk about? What won’t we talk about? As much as I love blogging, there’s nothing like meeting in person and diving into the shared space of a moment. I might be nervous, but, oh, it’s going to be a treat.
And be warned, I’m bringing my camera. Toronto, here I come!
Saturday, Mar 3, 2012 | Chores, Organizing, Writing |
Keeping up with basic chores is pretty much overwhelming me. I’ll admit it. I read in a Macleans article that a family needs two full days/week of domestic labour in order to keep the household running. With me working more, we’re not even coming close. The house is in a constant state of crumb & clutter disarray. So I’ve been trying to use at least a few hours every weekend to tackle some corner or manageable project. Last Sunday it was: everyone gets fresh bedding! (With five beds, three of them upper bunks, that is no pleasant undertaking.) Today it was: haul the vacuum upstairs!
We’re reasonably good at crisis cleaning, as in: someone’s coming over so let’s take the vacuum for a spin around the kitchen/dining-room/living-room, and forget the rest of the place because no one’s going to see it anyway. It may have been months since our upstairs had been visited by the vacuum. And of course in order to vacuum, first I had to pick all the crap up off the floor and put it somewhere, preferably where it belonged.
I realize this should have been a job assigned to my children. Their rooms were the problem. I know that. And they’ve “tidied” occasionally. A superficial tidy occurred last weekend in advance of their grandmother coming to stay. But today they were all off to friends’ houses. And it just needed to get done. So I did it. And here’s what I found: Little kids’ room: passable, and every toy has a place. Albus’s room: easy, mostly Lego and books on the floor. AppleApple’s room: UNMITIGATED DISASTER ZONE.
Not surprisingly, my most creative child has the most unbelievably messy room. I mean, honestly, there were pins, staples, hair bands, beads, fabric, ribbons, scissors, cardboard, cut paper, thread, Lego, paper scraps filled with tiny handwriting, glass bottles filled with unidentifiable liquids, and on and on and on. It was like a window into her wild mind. For example, I give you “FroggieWorld,” which looks to the uneducated eye to be a shelf cluttered with cardboard tubing, string and cloth swinging from chopsticks, scraps taped together, and vessels filled with water and rocks: a complete mess, right? I chose not to touch it. It was contained on a shelf, and besides, I knew it to be FroggieWorld because she’d given me the tour. She’s devoted many happy hours to its creation.
I devoted a rather unhappy hour to clearing her floor from end to end, before vacuuming could begin. And I love her to bits. But I’m wondering, will she ever be able to organize herself? How much of what we accomplish happens because we’re able to stay on task, to prioritize, to keep what we’re working on boxed into separate tidy containers — literally and figuratively? It got me wondering, again, how organized I really am. And how much more organized I need to be in order to compartmentalize different aspects of my writing work into different sections of the work day, so that I can, say, answer emails here, write blogs here, process photos here, and write books here. What to do with a head full of “good” ideas? How to pin down the ones that can realistically be pursued and completed? How to stay on track? How to make FroggieWorld, and sew Sock Puppies, and keep a regular journal, and a story-writing journal, and invent a Harry Potter game, and take notes on ancient Athenians, and read French books, and and and … voila, messy room! My version includes: The Big Fat Juicy Belly Worm; photo projects; Obscure CanLit Mama; recording more Juliet songs; an idea for a novel titled The Runner; an idea for another novel told from the viewpoint to four different characters; an idea for yet another novel about a spy … and, and, and … voila, messy room.
