“My days are full, yet I keep asking: how can I fill them just a little bit more …”
That’s my tagline, which you can read in full to the right of this post. In practice, it means integrating work with life. Work isn’t over here, and life over there; ideas are everywhere, experiences intermingle. It means conversations about deep things grabbed in passing. It means discussing story ideas over supper. It means writing about things that matter to me; or finding ways to make the things I’m writing about matter more.
I think it can be a confusing way to live. It’s next to impossible to keep things in balance. But maybe that’s coming at it from the wrong angle. Maybe balance is not so important; maybe what matters is throwing yourself in to whatever you’re doing, at any given moment, and being there.
It’s not about ticking boxes, or trying to fill the columns evenly.
Into what column would I file running? And how would I categorize photographing the kids on a sunny afternoon? Watching a soccer game? Baking bread? Cleaning the bathroom? Writing a new song? Doing an interview? Leading a workshop?
Today’s experiences include: spin class; preparing supper in the crockpot before breakfast; research; spending the afternoon with my four-year-old; conversations with friends; organizing my kids’ running club; taking my daughter to soccer practice and going for a run; and stopping in at a city meeting about a parking garage planned for our neighbourhood that will block a bike trail.
I’m leaving a few things out. Deliberately. I’d like to blog about my current writing plans and projects, but the truth is that freelancing is a tricky business, not just in its feast or famine nature, but also because not everything comes to pass; or happens when, or as, you think it’s going to happen.
But it’s a solid day, in a week that looks to be packed as full as ever.
:::
A funny thing that happened on Saturday afternoon. I walked uptown to buy food, and stopped in at Words Worth Books. There at the front counter was The Juliet Stories. My first thought was, oh, that’s nice, it’s displayed right at the front. But then I realized it was stacked on a pile of unrelated books — not part of a display, but about to be purchased. It was a “Wow! You’re buying my book!” moment. When the customer discovered I was the author, a pen was found and I signed the book for her, right then and there. She was shopping with friends, and one of them ran to get a copy so I could sign it for her too. It was a little burst of excitement, all around.
And, see — it fits in no particular column. Household chores? Check. Being a writer? Check. Wandering into a new, unplanned, and unusual experience? Check, check, and check.
The week in suppers: writing week
popcorn for supper
**Monday’s menu** Baked potatoes. Veggie sausages and burgers.
**Quick-swap** High winds knocked down a tree in our neighbourhood, which landed on electrical lines, which took out the power. Which prevented the potatoes from being baked, as planned. Kevin brought home veggie sausages and veggie burgers to throw on the grill instead. He also tried baking the potatoes on the grill, but these weren’t done until late. The veggie burgers were fine, but the veggie sausages were declared next to inedible. Perhaps familiarity with the real thing does not endear the tastebuds to a masquerading soy product. Tough start to the week.
**Tuesday’s menu** Grilled veggies and veggie burgers.
**Guests** This flexible (and familiar) menu, with the addition of leftover baked potatoes, fed a crowd. Albus invited friends to stay for supper — I believe there were at least three extra at the table; AppleApple and I ate early and left for soccer practice. I was thankful Kevin was managing it all.
**Wednesday’s menu** Curried beans in the crockpot. Baked rice.
**Highlight of the day** Teaching Kevin how to cook using the crockpot! His first time.
**Speaking of which** Highlights of the week: I loved how Kevin planned out the week’s meals in advance, writing menus on the chalkboard. And he shopped for the ingredients. And he asked for help if he didn’t know how to do something.
**Thursday’s menu** Pasta with pesto. Salad.
**Easy-peasy** Kevin bought gnocchi, and used pesto I’d frozen from my last batch. I whipped up a salad dressing. Easy + popular.
**Friday’s menu** Pizza. Veggies.
**Even easier-peasier** To finish off his week, Kevin went with take-out pizza. Add some raw cut-up veggies, and some friends, and call it a meal. Have another friend drop by with pakoras and samosas and call it dessert. Fun.
:::
**Weekend kitchen accomplishments** Waffles. Four loaves of bread.
our vintage popcorn-maker
Chessmates
Sunday morning
My favourite free photo editing software (Picnik) has just gone offline forever. So I’m trying out Gimp. All I can say so far is: too many options!
Spot the differences? I like the top one best. I think.
Photography has the ability to steal big chunks of my time. I can’t decide if I mind; is it stealing time I could be using more productively? But I so enjoy doing it. A friend who’s a photographer has pitched me on participating in a photo project I’m pretty excited about. (If this goes ahead, it will be the third photographer I’ve modelled/mused for in less than a year; new side career?) He also asked whether I ever print my photos. The answer is, embarrassingly, no. I print our family photos in one large batch, once a year, and stuff them into albums. But my experimental photos have never been printed. Not one. Maybe because I imagine them needing to be printed large, or printed on an unusual material, or printed as part of a larger project that I haven’t wrapped my mind around (and quite possibly never will). Maybe because printing would seem too close to commitment, to being a final step in a process I’m not sure I’m close to figuring out. Maybe also because it would be an expensive experiment for an amateur. Maybe someday.
Maybe I’ll always have a few too many pots on the stove.
Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s the simultaneous upside and downside of embracing a creative life.
And on that note, she departs to go outside and take more photos in the lovely afternoon light.
Family literacy
w w w
While I’ve been holed up in the writing cave, my youngest has apparently learned how to write. On the back of this worksheet, which he coloured and filled out himself (you can see his Ws), he signed his name. Just because. Did I know he could sign his name? I did not. At least, not in clear easy-to-read lettering. He was a bit embarrassed by my praise. So he got to work dumping go-gos on the floor (those brightly coloured plastic figures you can see in the photo). Then he separated them into two piles, and counted them. Up to 27. Correctly. After which he separated and organized them by colour.
“I think your little brother is prettty smart,” I said to Fooey, who glanced at me in puzzlement. “Of course he is,” she said.
Meantime, she was holed up under the counter — reading.
:::
Writing week. Can I sum it up? I cannot, not with precision. It’s been worthwhile, but not in the ways anticipated. I’m too superstitious (or realistic) to write in detail about the work done. But yes, work has been done. It’s been a good week. I’m looking forward to the next intensive, scheduled for May.
Blinking in the sunshine
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?