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Bare and uncensored personal expression. Beware!!! |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "This is pretty much what journals are all about, at least to me. I knew as I wrote them that even though they provided an excellent place for brain (and heart, and psyche) dump, they were mainly a map of me." --- Colleen Wainwright "Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it." --- David Sedaris "Please write again soon. Though my own life is filled with activity, letters encourage momentary escape into others lives and I come back to my own with greater contentment." --- Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey "In giving of myself onto these pages every day I allow myself to write regardless of the depth and meaning. I share myself with others without fear of recrimination for these are my thoughts, my feelings and my very being, and there are non who's opinion of me matters more than my own." --- Rebecca Laffar-Smith   The Writer's Round-About |
| I'm one of those writers who has trouble starting things. It's not that I'm not enthusiastic it's just I get these anxiety build ups that hold me back in procrastination mode. And hold me back, and back, and back where I'll dither all day long unless I put into practice the "butt in chair" method of writing. In Heather Sellers book she talked about how one student coined it 'button chair' because of hearing it said rather than seeing it written. I think the term is rather clever. Imagine having a chair you could button or strap yourself into? For me the "butt in chair" is the only way I ever get work done. I don't know many people who accomplish anything without getting into it. Taking action. I can procrastinate all day long but when I bring myself into the present with a single project to the exclusion of all others I'm "butt in chair". With Flight of Torque it involves shutting off email, all web browsers except the FoT campfire item, setting my yahoo to *busy writing* so that people know they'll get their heads chopped off if they interrupt me, and then position my headphones with Enya cranked into my ears. "Butt In Chair". With other projects it's not as exclusive as that. This blog for example has been put off all day. It's now gone midnight, again, and I'm finally 'butt in chair' here. I've stopped chatting with others and I've put aside all other projects for the completion of this one. It's not that I'm exclusive here, I could get distracted and check my email but I'm present, here, for my blog. I was present for two reviews today too. I'd put them off all of yesterday and today I set aside all other distractions. I closed the chat windows and stopped surfing the web in hunt of distractions and just "butt in chair"ed it. Decided to start, and acted. It's so easy to accomplish something when you reach that point of decide/act. There are lots of projects that take time to reach that point so it's not always possible but ultimately the decide/act is a comforting phenomenon. I should practice it more often.  In Page After Page, Heather Sellers talks about setting yourself up with "Butt In Chair" time every day. As little as 15 minutes where you're fully present, here at the desk, have put aside all other distractions are are writing. It doesn't matter what you write, you could start with shopping lists or blog entries but it's important to develop the "Butt In Chair" discipline. I'm usually pretty good when it comes to "Butt In Chair" blogging. I have my crashes where days go buy without a blog and I have my 'dragged kicking and screaming to the chair' days too. But I'm here again, on a Sunday no less. Blogging. I have my audience to consider after all. Then again, I'm sure many of you might wish I didn't bother.  Too bad, if you don't like it, don't read it. lolExercise 13: Spend three minutes writing a list of ten things you did/saw two days ago, then take ten minutes to write about one thing from that list. 1. A mist of frost on the car windows that needed to be wiped off before driving. 2. Venus on prominent display beside a cresent moon, both with their ethereal glows like a giant looking down upon a child. 3. Smooth, sleek black fur of my new cat, Phantom. His coat is a rich, thick, pure black that could disappear into the shadows and glisten in the moonlight. I can imagine him prowling the midnight crickets and hunting mice in the corners of the house. 4. My two little ones playing together, sharing a chair at the computer while big sister helped little brother and little brother helped big sister. Two blonde heads, focused in unison, twin pitched voices chattering away, common ground and sharing, beauty in motion. 5. Baby boy 'driving'. Little hands hold an imaginary steering wheel as he two-wheels it around corners. His little voice "brroomming" and "zooming" like a race car and his whole body rocks with the motions as he crashes with splutters and giggles. 6. Two dozen little heads peering over desks, greedy eyes hunting for a familiar face so they can escape into the sunlight after a long day at school. Smiles, bright eyes, contrasting colors and a multicultural mixture with the same hungry look for freedom. 7. Newborn baby, still pink and wrinkled, less than a week old. She's bundled all in pink. Obviously very much loved and completely spoilt. Older brother's already lost interest as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. Baby blues look with interest unfocused on the world. 8. Chocolate dress, my favorite, with soft edges and a slimming waistline. Feeling fantastic as I am instead of seeing only all my faults. Loving this dress and wishing for the cash to buy more clothes that I enjoy wearing. 9. Oranges, yellows, soft reds all crushed with greens. My daughter's nastucians (sp?) in full bloom. Their leaves are a pale green, rounded and all leaning into the sunrise. Water licks at their petals and soaks quickly into the thirsty roots. 10. Flickering flames suckling on the fresh dry wood in a newly light fireplace. Smoke rising up the chimney and into the clear sky of a late autumn night in Australia. The air is chilled and inside becomes a cozy haven with crackles and heat kissing the edges of the glass. Mesmerising patterns in the fire, colors blending. The morning's start later and end earlier, the moon rises high into the sky, a sharp quiver of frosted white as if it, too, is caught in the cooling air of winters swift approach. The grasses are emerald gardens, lush and rejuvinated after the harsh, dry summer. The trees look like ghosts along the walk, their grey trunks tower over the footpath and their green/grey leaves cling with determination to the branches, euculyptus scent wafts in the breeze. The car's windows are frosted in the chill. Water condensed in crystals on the glass but trickle from the edge of the hand held wiper. The winshield wiper isn't effective on frost like that, it deals with pelting rain but the mist of a cool morning embraces the glass. The water dries quickly as the morning sun begins to bake the earth. The clear skies mean the heat doesn't linger, the rays still stinging but their bite gentled in the cool air. At the end of a hard day when the moon looks down on Venus, glowing in the night sky we retreat inside. It would be nice to spend time admiring the ethereal beauties and wondering at the mythological gods they were named for or perhaps the Gods were named for the planets instead of the other way around? The looks tiny beside the mother moon, like a child gazing up into her loving eyes, overwhelmed by her fragile figure, dwarfed by the parent. Their color matches, Venus a child of the moon with her mothers soft skin. The planet is blanketed in toxic clouds but it gives her an ivory gown in the reflected light. She'll disappear from the sky soon enough, these moments of luminence are fleeting. The fire inside flickers and licks at the wood. Heat pulses from the flame. I'm always intrigued by fire. How does it radiate heat. How does a flame burn. It consumes oxygen and depending on what is burning there are various smells that linger in the air. Rose Musk fills my mothers house, incense burnt with regularity. It's a scent I really love when there are other incense that I don't. I like most musk smells and apparently musk is one of those smells most people don't like. Obviously some do or they wouldn't make rose musk incense and musk deoderants and perfumes. I've an allergy to most fragrances so I don't wear perfume. Do people really find various smells particularly appealing? Are men attracted to the scent of flowers blended with the warm femininity of a womans smell? I don't know... I prefer natural scents. A newborn baby, hair washed in the salt of the ocean, skin glistening from swimming in a freshwater lake. Cooking smells, vibrant colors. My family things I'm strange because I love the idea of brightly colored walls. I remember "Fools Rush In" because of the walls. The heritage of her people to live surrounded by vibrant color. Can I paint one wall purple and another orange in the same room, with light blue cornices. Blending colors, and filling the house with the smell of baking bread, and rosemary lamb roast... Run away in the colors and scents and flavors and textures of the world. It's definitely past the ten minute limit. lol I have to get to bed. G'night all and have sweet dreams when you sleep and productive and fun days while you're awake. |
| *chuckles* I really enjoyed chapter 6 of Page After Page by Heather Sellers. It's all about the relationship you have with your writing (and reading) and its priority in your life. Heather talks about 'sleeping with books' and I'm sure most writers know exactly what we mean by this. How many of us have books by the bed or even in bed with us? I know that I have two books on my bed right now and another dozen within reach. Books are a constant in my life, just like pens and paper that you'll find in multiple locations around my home you'll find books. Writing books, romances, fantasies, childrens books, poetry books, programming books. I love books and I wish there were three times as many hours in a day so that I could read more. When it comes to the love I have for my writing and for language there is this unbreakable bond that very few other things in my life could compare to. My children obviously have this bond to their own degrees as well, and a couple of other select people but it's never the same as the importance writing has in my life. I've known I would be a writer since before I can remember. I have poetry I wrote years ago as a child, I was a poet even then. All the while I've strived to be a writer and lived life knowing that this was all I ever wanted to do and all I ever demanded for myself. I give up so much for my passions. There is a lot I could live without but books, pens, paper... I couldn't breath without them. I don't think I could survive without them. I try to imagine that sort of life and all I picture is me dressed all in white looking at four barren walls and restraints on the beds. A mental institute. Writing keeps me sane. Or as sane as I'll ever be I guess and without it I honestly believe I just wouldn't be able to live a human life. The alternative is pretty horrific which is perhaps why I get very overwhelmed and really hate myself and the world when I don't write. When I should but I don't or I want to but I can't. I try to focus on the kind of life writing can give me, what I truly want, where I want my life to go and how writing can take me there. It's not very easy to keep images like that in mind because things in life keep changing and the images shimmer based on what's happening. For example, I can picture my wrting office, a detached room, in the backyard of this house... Except, there is every chance I won't have that reality because there is an alternate possibility that means I mightn't be living in this house. It gives me unstable footing because for a while I'd had that image firmly fixed in my mind, it's a good dream, I don't know if it's one I could transplant elsewhere. I've always tried to avoid looking forward so much. I've been told how important it is to visualise what you want but with my moods I'd learned not to fix any expectations. Disappointments rock my world too much. Expecting what fails to come to pass sends me into serious shame spirals that can destroy me from the inside out. If I set myself to that specific image and never accomplish it then no matter how great the alternatives might be I'll still suffer that insecurity that goes with failure. But I love my writing, and I love my books, and yes, I sleep with them. I don't always treat it with the respect it deserves or give myself the credit of being good at what I do. I neglect him and I fail to give him the warm praise and compliments a lover deserves. I abuse him and run him down and fail to treat him right. I honestly don't know why he stays around, surely he could do better than me. But then, he'll never have a more loyal, devoted and persistant lover. My writing and I are life mates and while we might frequently argue, the make up sex is fantastic.  |
| You know in a way I'm thankful today for this low. I know I'm on day three of it so I should be heading up tomorrow which is part of why I'm probably feeling a bit better but I've suddenly realized that while I've not accomplished the 'work' I feel like I should have been doing I've been in the remarkable position to help a lot of people. I haven't given the reviews I had intended to give and I spent hours 'wasting time' in the chat room. I come away feeling better about myself and realising that part of my journey and the struggles I go through with myself and my life serves a purpose. The experiences I've had in life sometimes suck, sure. Everyone has those sucky times in life. But ultimately everything I go through gives me insight into human nature, psychology, spirituality, creativity and the real world. Everything I've experienced gives me a unique and enlightened perspective to write about it or just talk about it with others. All thought my life I've been the sounding board and the shoulder to cry on for friends and even strangers. I must have this weird aura that says, "Come talk to me, I can help." I've no idea how it works only that it always has, from childhood. I remember being 7 and being he 'wise' one of my friends, the girl that the boys asked about girls, or the nerd that the buffs asked about classes, or the recluse that the drama queen sobbed all over because she was dumped and her friends didn't like her any more. (Her name was Melanie by the way and she was a carrot top. She never stopped being a drama queen in primary school at least and I grew to not like her too much but I was still always there when she needed someone to talk to.) It's interesting being the person who can listen and reflect on pretty much any situation. My own experiences aren't the same as anyone elses but losing a brother to cancer gives me a remarkable insight into living with terminal illness or indeed any illness and with grief. There are other events in my life that shape who I am today but each offers me a chance to show people that while it's not exactly the same there is a sense of connection there, an understanding... I don't know what it's all about. And part of my major drawing to writing, the reason I write is because I want to help people like this on a grand scale. I write fantasy fiction primarily because it's an easy going atmosphere, one that gives us the freedom to take risks and be more than we ever believe reality would allow us to be and in these sorts of stories I can approach so many deeper concepts. The fantasy novelists I love to read are the ones who already do this with their own work. Anyway, three days and I had been feeling like I have accomplished nothing. Indeed all week long I got little to nothing done. But I come away from these last few days with new friends, strong connections and a fresh tie to the community. For a while now I've felt a little detached, forgotten, a little lonely so it's nice to reconnect and be noticed in a community sense. There are so many wonderful people and so many fantastic writers on WDC. I love sharing our experiences, not just with our writing but with our living and our lives with all of you. I came here because I wanted to learn and while I find I'm often looked upon as the teacher I take away so much from the conversations and interactions with each and every one of you. Thank you so much for that. And for baring with me when I'm going through the rough patches. And Anyea, thank you for giving my blog a voice. It really was a very special response and I love you for it. *hugs you tight* |
| I want to tell my blog to go to hell. But I don't want any of you to think I mean you. I don't. My readers, my friends, I adore you all, thank you for your support. But seriously, today, the blog can go to hell. |
| I think someone primed my power into the off position. My energy is pretty much non-existant and I can't will myself to do much of anything. It doesn't help that stupid power blackouts (real ones) wake me up with screeching alarm systems at 3 in the morning. I swear that alarm is designed to wake the dead and scare them to death. Anyway, I have to talk myself into getting back to work. I need to do three reviews today. Full, in-depth reviews. I SHOULD do a review a day but I haven't been doing any in ages.  I'm so bad.I also need to submit something this week maybe even two somethings. I don't like submitting. I don't like the waiting involved. I have a bunch of things out at the moment and this waiting is icky. Why can't they just reject me and get it over with?There is so much else I want to get done. Like read up about Lord Byron and respond to Tirz's Poet of the Week post. I want to write a few more poems and enter a few more WDC contests. And yet, I'm drawn into the chat rooms. I even spend a couple of hours in IRC yesterday, wasting time... Just because I'm struggling to push myself into working. I started trying to sort my emails. There are over 250 in my inbox that are unsorted/unresponded to. I feel very guilty when I realise all these people remain unacknowledged. I'm not ungrateful but I haven't been showing the respect and gratitude these wonderful people deserve. Perhaps I should make the emails a priority. Except I can't. Because these reviews have to take priority because the Tools of Poetry are waiting to hear who won... *SCREAMS IN FRUSTRATION* Sometimes it's all just too overwhelming. It sucks that I'm also not making any money from doing all of this. I look at the edge of my bank balance where I keep dangling. It's not fun. Basically I feel like shit, run down and fed up with the world. Why can't it be easy? Why can't I find that sense of will power that can push me through? Why can't I focus and remain dedicated to what I love? I wander, aimless and disassociated. What is the point? |
| Ok, so I'm at my desk today. It's strange to be here. For days now I've not written anything at all. I felt that tug that was telling me I was doing the wrong thing by staying away but I firmly ignored it. I knew that even if I came to my desk I would struggle to write because my mind was elsewhere. But in not even trying I also know, in the pit of my stomach, that I've made it worse for myself. It's harder to come back. Tonight I can't concentrate. My mind flitters, it flutters, and deep inside the voices are shouting, "SAVE ME!" at any slight distraction that passes by. It's also telling me it's time to scratch this idea of doing all the Page After Page exercises. I knew it would happen. As soon as I stop reading these books the enthusiasm dissapates and I'm left with the notion that the book was good but that I don't need to do anything beyond read... It's a defeatest attitude so without further ado I'll get into it... From Page After Page by Heather Sellers Exercise 11: Keep a bedside journal. When you're cranky or just in a bad mood take a few minutes to write in the journal. When you wake up in the morning don't get out of bed before writing at least one sentence. If you can't sleep or are struggling to write, write a sentence in the journal. Just write! Ok, well I keep my blog and I write in it many days. I SHOULD write in it every day. And when I'm doing ok I do pretty well. Then I smack into a wall, always self-created, and do less well. lol I don't actually have a journal beside my bed so I'll put one there tonight. I do frequently take one to bed with me which I suppose is similar. But I rarely write first thing in the morning. I usually have to be jumping out of bed to get the kids up and dressed, breakfasted, lunches made, etc. The usual craziness that goes on in the household of a single mother. Still, that's a pretty lame exercise... But I'm too darn out of it, lazy and pissy to bother hunting up Exercise 12 tonight. So YAY! I can call it quits and say I'm done. |
| Just going to do the exercise tonight. My mind is preoccupied and while I want to be here to maintain my streak I don't want to spend too much time doing it. Exercise 10: This exercise focuses on capturing a snapshot moment of your real life on the page. rite for 15 minutes but cover only the happenings of a couple of actual minutes. Pick and event that happened today or yesterday. Heather recommends writing slowly and by hand. *** His little legs streaked across the soft green grass. His blue and red sports shorts dropped just below the knee and a bright orange jumper covered him from neck to thigh. His wrists were hidden in the folds. Blonde hair fluttered in the wind and his cheeks were flushed with a mixture of chill and exersion. He curved toward the trees, towering in the distance. The gusts caught in their leaves and the grey/brown branches shivered. "Hey!" A woman shouted, she was walking with sure strides about six meters behind the young child. He stopped running and turned, tilting his head up to look back, "That way!" She raised an arm, pointing to the carpark in the distance on the their left. He grinned with an impish smile then turned and started running for the parked cars. He covered the ground in baby steps. The woman moved faster. She reached a hand and went to call him, anxiety clenched for a moment. Just as she was about to call out he stopped, standing on the edge of the curb between wooden pickets, looking at the cars beyond. He turned to face her, waiting as she, full of smiles, joined in. He took her outreached hand and walked with her as she checked for cars then crossed the carpark to the building beyond. *** My inner critique is ripping me apart at the moment so forgive me for the rather lame and miserable snippet. This is real life. Yesterday in fact. My baby boy was running ahead of me and he's been taught to stop on command and not to go into a carpark or road unless he's holding an adults hand. He's ALWAYS good but there is always this moment of hesitation in me wondering if this occasion he'll forget and not stop. A churning of fear in the pit of my stomach.It's the same fear I get when I drop my seven year old off at the school gate instead of walking her to glass. This inner worry that she just might't make it to class, that something terrible will happen and no one will know until I go pick her up in the afternoon and discover she's not there. *sighs* But really, we have to have faith don't we? Trust that they'll be ok because clinging too tightly just smothers their independance and self-esteem. My daughter feels very grown up because I let her walk herself to class. My baby boy loves the freedom I give him to run. They follow the rules because doing so allows me the freedom to give them this leeway. But it doesn't stop my motherly concern. *chuckles* I'm lame, I know. Anyway, I did a miserable effort with the exercise but at least it's done. Now onward to 500 words min of FoT. Hope you're all having a fantastic day! |
| I didn't get much work done today. I stopped in for a snatch of grocery shopping this morning and snuck into the video store (which is actually really a DVD store these days). On Tuesdays they do "A Dollar Day" which means every movie and game in the place is only $1 so I had a look and picked out two DVD's and a PS2 game. I haven't played a console game in years. But when I saw Suikoden 5 on the shelf I couldn't leave it there. I LOVED the original Suikoden and #2 was ok as well. I haven't played 3 or 4 and 5 is VERY different from the first two. I'm undecided if I like it yet. Still giving it more time. Anyway, obviously, I got hooked into playing that today instead of working. I SHOULD have been here, wrapping up "Invalid Item"  , adding two new members to the group, catching up on "Invalid Item" , and writing more poems. I'm so behind on my reviewing and poem a day that I'm feeling terrible about not being prolific enough. I need MORE content. I have the time to write every day but I'm not using it efficiently enough.So all these important things haven't gotten done. I've just ducked into ToP to at least close the week and introduce the next week so the members can get started but I'll have to do the judging and reviewing tomorrow. I'm also going to add those two new members now, mid blog so that they aren't kept waiting ANOTHER day. If either of you happen upon this entry I'm VERY, VERY sorry you've had to wait so long already. So, excuse me a moment while I go do that. I'll be right back. *** OMG I'm running so late now. Ok, moving on. Exercise 8: Set a writing schedule for the week. Nap during those hours. Do nothing. Just sit there, lie about, stare out the window, be in bed, on your back, for one week. WASTE your writing time. If you can't waste this amount of writing time, how will you write during it? Ok, so I'm not actually going to do this exercise. I would go nuts. Seriously, seriously nuts if I decided to NOT write during my hour every night. Seriously. But what I AM going to do that's kind of the same thing is to schedule three 15 minute breaks every day to do this exercise. For one week. 15 minutes, three times a day to just space out and let my mind wander, perhaps go for a walk and just BE instead of filling those snippets with busy-ness I'm going to fill it with BEING-ness. Exercise 9: Take books to your bed. Get in the habit of reading in bed. Read every book you can get your hands one. Court the writing life by simply reading. Reading is a fabulous way to seduce a writing practice into your life. Read naked. Read indiscriminately. *blushes* Ok, um... I already do this. *chuckles* Yes, even the read naked thing. My bed has books on it at all times. They're pretty much right next to my head/pillow as I sleep each night. But I think, instead of watching a DVD to tune out at night I'm going to read a book. The only problem is that the reading may keep me up. I've watched the DVD's because they let me shut my brain down where as books tend to perk it up. Anyway, I'm going to try it and see. What I have been doing to 'court writing by reading' is to read while I work out. The workouts are barely noticed because I'm too busy enjoying a good book. Right, blog done. Now time to get 500 words (min) of FoT so that I can either go back to my game (which my mind and body REALLY wants to do) or go to bed with a book. I think the game will win. And the game will probably win tomorrow too. But it goes back to the store for 6PM so I'll forgive myself these hours of play and know that it is a gift to myself and I'll be back on track soon enough. Ok, PS I went into the community center today and talked to A Published Author! I went in looking for a writing group or workshop and they have one on Monday mornings. Unfortunately, however, they don't have the demand to maintain the creche for that two hour session and I don't want to bring Baby Boy into the group with me. The woman who runs it said I was welcome to but I know from past experience what a distraction to the energy and momentum of a group setting like this children can be.For the moment I'm tampering my disappointment and starting to think seriously about finding a baby sitter. There is something I want to do Friday Night too but again, no baby sitter means I'm stuck home with the kids instead. *sighs* |
| I always feel strange when I talk to people in real life about my being a writer. I was on the phone the other day to a woman who was booking an appointment for me and we were in a chatty frame of mind, "What do you do?" she asked me. My standard response these days is, "I'm a writer". It's easier to say I'm a writer rather than I'm a writer/poet/freelance copyediter/mother/homekeeper. Anyway, her response, and one I've heard from others before was, "Oh wow, that's great, I always wanted to write a book." To me it feels like a no-brainer, seriously, if you want to write then write. It takes no exceptional skill or fancy hardware. You pick up the nearest pen or pencil and start scratching away. That's how books are written, by people scratching away. But to non-writers it seems like being a writer is some magical state, royal, special, famous. We could have our own reality TV show, "The Life and Times of a Writer." --- See how she spends hour after hour staring off into space. Ohh look, she's washing her dishes, isn't she amazing? Anyway, Chapter 3 of Page After Page reminded me of that experience. It discusses the role writing takes in your life and compares it to that of a lover. I mean come on, to write we have to be in love with our writing. It doesn't happen any other way. We have our lovers quarrels and our tiffs and even better the make up sex. That's a writers life. In chapter 3 Heather Sellers askes, "Is your writing life going to be a lover in the center of your life? The thing you pulse toward, the fever in your soul? Or is your writing life more of a casual crush, something you think about, but don't do much about?" I think a lot of people have a crush on writing. Even many WDCers, perhaps even most WDCers, simply have a crush on writing. It's good to snuggle up with their writing when they can sneak away from their main squeeze, the busy-ness of the rest of their life. For me my writing is more of a marriage. It's not in that first love stage any more where we live in each others pockets, it's in that comfortable stage where we are loyal and companionable and have to lock the door to keep the kids from disturbing our lovemaking sessions. That's it in a nutshell for me now. I write and I surround myself with writer-like experiences which include my poetry and my poetry group, reviewing, copywriting, copyediting, and of course reading. Those fill my average day along with the household chores which sometimes don't get done. These things, and my writing sessions at night are flexed into the time I'm taking care of my kids. I check my email first thing in the morning then get dressed and get my oldest to school. I'm home with my youngest working on the writer-like experiences during the day, and after they are in bed I have my blog and my writer-sex, my book. Ok, so I kind of got distracted talking about my writer love-life. Basically the whole chapter is devoted to deciding how important writing is in your life and deciding if you want to permit yourself to have an open-writing relationship where you can have a little non-writing on the side or whatever. Exercise 7: "The excuses you are making right now are illusionary distractions - and very, very useful. Write down and look at them. Write down what you were thinking, list all those obstacles, to-do lists, jobs, fears, dreams, excuses. Put together all those busy-drugs you are addicted to, meetings you must attend, children you must feed. Write it all down. Are you in the mood to fall in love with writing? Are you too exhausted to take on a lover?" - Heather Sellers, Page After Page. Ok, so she wants a list? I guess I already started one didn't I. Kids, to and from school, meals, diaper changes, child-related-mini-dramas (splinters, sibling rivalry, wanting something out the fridge, needing help with something etc.), weekly TV show addictions (Heros), dishes, laundry, folding, making beds, general tidying, general cleaning, reviewing, poetry writing, poetry reading, research, online distractions, chatting, exercise, blogging, reading blogs, email, submitting, movies, music, singing, mother, games, sisters, friends... I'm sure there are probably more. That was mostly just to-do list stuff and jobs. Writing about my dreams and fears feels separate and not really for this blog entry. I could write whole entries dedicated to those and have done in the past. lol As for the answer to those questions I pretty much already did by admitting where my relationship is with my writing now. I guess the good news is that even though we're married we have sex every night. At least NOW we do. When I was blocked it was a long and painful drought where I went around feeling very neglected and unloved by my writing. The thing I've learnt is that my writing-lover waits for me to come with flowers, not the other way around. It's a little one sided in that sense but when you show up with a box of chocolates, you get so much more in return. |
| Ok, some strange, evil trid talked me into actually creating an account on YouTube today. I've known of YouTube for months. I've enjoyed occasional browsing sessions there and I've had a few friends point me to various videos, usually for their comic value. But never before have I bothed to create an account. I have to say that not doing so, was simply a survival instinct. I'm so wrapped up in my other projects and I knew YouTube had the capacity to suck me into it's whirling vortex of terror. Boy, was I right. After creating an account I found myself exploring and starting to think up some crazy ideas. I'm the sort of insane that might actually, someday if I get brave or stupid enough, put my own video up. Along with time wasted watching the videos of other YouTubers I actually practiced recording. Just now I took a recording of me and my baby boy and it's made me really appreciate the wonder of home movies. I've never taken video footage of my kids before. At least, not any that was particularly significant, that involved the kids interacting with me or the camera. I did take a minute snap of baby boy building with blocks once but this was different. He sat on my knee as we recorded and then as we watched it back and he interacted with himself in the screen and everything. He totally loved it. It's made me think of recording some conversations to baby boy via cam that he can watch after the fact or capture more moments with my family that we can store and look back on in the future. Anyway, obviously I'm addicted which is a bad sign. Perhaps you should all chain me away from my cam and away from You Tube. I have too many other procrastination means, I don't need to be stacking more into my life. Speaking of procrastination, lets move into Exercise 3 so that I can put aside this blog and gets some FoT written. Speaking of FoT!!! WOOT!!!! I've been patting myself on the back all day, truly celebrating an accomplishment. It's even been on my Yahoo status message and in my WDC handle all day today. Last night I wrote for an hour for FoT and a total of 1,739 additional words. It felt fantastic. For the first time in months it wasn't painful to write. It was still hard but I wasn't spending every minute wishing the world would end. So CHEERS!!! And congratulations to me. I'm a WRITER! Ok, Page After Page, by Heather Sellers: Exercise 3: Find a writing group. I've already found one here on WDC but I will be looking for others in my area so that I can attend one locally. This is a time consuming task and as a single mother it will be hard attending a group at least until baby boy starts school next year. Exercise 4: Attend Live Readings OMG I would love to do this. Again, it's something I'll have to look up and see if I can find any going on. It would be great if there was one specifically focused for mothers that we could take kids to but odds are there won't be. Perhaps I can talk my mother or sister into babysitting? Will have to wait and see. Exercise 5: Read and Listen I already do this but I could definitely do more of it. I've been wondering if anyone does poetry readings on YouTube. Something to look into. Surely there are recordings of readings online I can get into. I've already got links to a podcast where they talk about writing but I don't listen as often as I should. Time to schedule those into my life. Exercise 6: 15 minute free-writing. (Write down all the voices that are present within you.) Oh Goodness, this is a challenging one. The book talks about teachers and a few come instantly to mind. They flitter through my head so quickly that it's hard to lock into them long enough to catch what they're saying. Mrs Greaves was one of my primary school teachers. I had her for year two, three, and six and I adored her completely. She was always so warm and encouraging. She died in her garden early in my sixth year, spider bite, it was a significant loss in my life and I was rocked. Ruth Greaves as I call her now is a powerful influence in my writing life. I often feel like she was the first to believe in me. I can't remember any specific occasion she encouraged my writing but she definitely had faith in ME as a person and radiated the warmth and caring I would like to give others. There were three male teachers in primary school too. Mr. Shrug was a little course. I didn't much like him, he seemed distant and didn't make any sort of connection with me. I felt a little pushed aside by him and felt a little left behind and forgotten in his class. I adored the year six teacher but never had him as my own teacher except for sport or when he covered for a teacher that was away. He was always so friendly and fun and soooo georgious. He was perhaps my first school-girl crush. I swear, he was a cutey. And then Mr. Pegoraro was cool. Most kids didn't much like him but I thought he was great. He thought he was funnier then he really was but he had a grasp on teaching, a grip on learning and he wanted 'his' kids to do well. He had an energy and passion that was inspiring. I often thing of him as Mr. Pegasus, winged horse. All these teachers have a part to play in my writing life and I remember them fondly if a little strangely at times.In high school there was one other teacher who influenced my writing although far more negatively. She was my English teacher and although she mightn't have known it, I worshipped her. I thought that since she taugh English she must be brilliant. She failed me. I shared a story asking if she'd critique it for me and she said she would then never got back to me. After then, she failed me and in a way I feel like the two tie together. I often wondered if it was so bad she just couldn't think of a nice way to tell me it's hopeless and I should give up. I rebounded from those thoughts to thinking it's so good she's totally jealous and spiteful. The yin yang of a writer, ego vs. insecurity. lol *ponders* Who are some other people who inspired my writing or have had an influence? My father to some degree simply by existence but not significantly enough to add to the acknowledgements of any of my books at this point. My stepfather had confidence in me. I don't know if he supports my desire to write but his love made me feel pretty special and important. I feel like he never doubted that I could be brilliant. My sisters, particularly the one closest in age. She's the one who asks me about my writing, she treats me like the professional I want to be treated like. She's not always the best for encouraging me to go sit, butt in chair, because when she's free she wants me to be able to drop it all and hang out with her but I don't mind that so much because she's not free very often. She hasn't read any of my work so far as I'm aware but it's in not having read any that I actually feel more confident. I feel like, even if I never published anything she would still be behind me, pushing me to chase my dream, whatever that dream may be.  My best friend, the afformentioned trid has been a huge influence as well. I've known him years and so he's been there through a few non-writing periods. He's the sort of guy who's judgement free. I never feel like he thinks less of me when I'm not writing. "I" feel less of me and I beat myself up about it so it feels good to have his strength in those times. He also doesn't let me slack off. He knows writing is hard, he knows I struggle through it but he also knows how very important it is for me to write. He knows how terrible I feel when I don't. He bolsters me up reminding me that I'm talented and that I deserve to have whatever it is I want in life. I really appreciate his faith in my ability and the way he pushes me, challenges me, inspires me. He can lift me out of a slump (if I'm in a mood to let him) and set me soaring again. He reads my poetry and likes it. He doesn't mess it up (too much) and while he's Mr. Math he really makes an effort to meet me on my level. His voice is frequently in my head, pushing me on, reminding me why I write, why I love it, why it's important and that I'm brilliant and beautiful and capable of anything.My mother is also a voice in my head when it comes to my writing. She is another of the people in my life who believe I have the strength and courage to do anything. Sometimes I suspect she wishes I wasn't so set on this whole writing idea but she's never actively discouraged me. She's survived my asking her to read my work and while I often wish she could have more to say about it or could be more positive and encouraging and influencial I know that she is pretty proud of me. In so many ways I'm the wonderful daughter she adores. I love feeling that from her, knowing that she feels very sure of me makes me feel surer of myself. There have been ups and downs with her influence on my writing, but ultimately, without my mother I wouldn't be writing today. My kids. Their voices are in my head every day. My daughter especially has complete faith in Mummy. She knows I'm a writer and she thinks everything I write is fantastic. It's empowering to feel like the most brilliant person in the world in the eyes of your child. She knows that Mummy doesn't know everything (I've told her that) and she's started to occasionally tell me I'm wrong (even when I'm not) but she still believes Mummy knows a whole lot. Mummy is clever and gifted and Mummy is special. That's a powerful influence to keep my spirits focused on the higher peaks of every mountaneous challenge. Ok, so my 15 minutes is up but there is one last batch of people I need to acknowledge for their voices in my head. It's my friends here on WDC. Most specifically and in no particularly order, rain  , ♥~HermyKitteh~♥ , Anyea , tirzahlaughs, Kåre Enga in Udon Thani  , The Literary Penguin , larryp, bkcompton, northernwrites, Sweets , Forge . There are many others who have influenced me and I meet more and more wonderful people every day. Their incouragement and cheering keep me positive. Their understanding and commiserations reassure me. These fantastic writer friends UNDERSTAND the writing world. They're an intelligent, creative, inspirational bunch from all walks of life and experience but who share this passion for words. There voices remind me that I'm not alone, they reassure me that it's supposed to be hard and that persistence is the real key. Thank you, all of you. I don't feel like I really completed the exercise correctly. I couldn't think of specific quotes from these people so let me see if I can think up a few now. *Actually I cheated and dug a few out of my blog comments. I should take to my notepad when you guys say great stuff so I can use it for future recall.* "You love people, you love writing, you love poetry, write what you love." --- My Trid (I'll never forget this one my Trid. It's amazing the vibrant energy it fills me with everytime I read it. Thank You!) "You have courage. Don't doubt that. All you need is the opportunity [...] and I know you will succeed." --- Rain "*points straight ahead* Yes RK, you are headed in the right direction. *push push* You'll get where you are going one step at a time." --- Sweets "You are writing and that is wonderful!" --- Anyea "Your continued dedication to your daily blog always inspires me Rebecca. If you did nothing for yourself yesterday, know you did something for me." --- Sweets "Any way to write is great." --- Linda "GO REBECCA! Keep on keeping on girl! You can do this. You want to do this, you need to do this and sometimes you even LOVE WRITING!" --- Anyea (This is a fantastic one I look back on often. Thank you Anyea!) |
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