Forgotten Thanks

For yesterday--I am thankful for a great long walk and talk. I needed that! I slept so well last night. It must have been the walk combined with the lecture that gave me the mind/body balance that led to a good night's sleep. The first in weeks.

And that is what I am thankful for today!

Woman to Woman

Yesterday's Woman to Woman event was outstanding. I gave two journaling workshops, and took 4 other workshops, including illuminating the journey (making a spirit candle), Kundalini yoga, Yoga for Emotional Flow, and a workshop on reinterpreting your home decorating.
Can I just say how much I needed this day? The three months following the release of my book have been stressful, in more ways than I can go into on an online blog. And not just book-related. While I don't want to go into all that happened, I will tell you the end result. In an effort to cope with the situations at hand, I negated my own feelings. Because honestly--it just wasn't practical to add them to the mix. Now that the weather is clearing, it is obvious that these repressed feelings need a venue. I was stuck in more ways than one: my art and writing was suffering as well. Through my own journaling classes and the yoga instruction, I think I uncorked myself. Don't imagine me sobbing; it was more of a big popping exhalation.
What I realized is that I really need to connect to spirit; my own and that of the world around me. All kinds of women were at this workshops. All ages, races, ethnicities, sexual orientations. It was a sight to behold. Baby boomers trying belly dancing. Mothers making collages--with nary a child in view. Standing room only in some classrooms as women were clamoring to do something selfishly positive for themselves. I could feel the battle cry! More More! It was palpable.
So I am going to try to continue the spirit of the day. Allow myself to connect to my higher power, my peers, and my emotions. I plan to walk with friends (my first walking date is this morning). I will do more yoga. I wish it was in a studio with others, but I will be content with my home studio for now. I will start up my holiday handwritten journal (I always journal around this time of year to relieve stress). I am going to be making some more collages. AND I am going to be spending less time on the computer. With NaBloPoMo and online Christmas shopping, I got caught up in the swirl of things. And while it was fun, I think it sucked some of the spirit right out of me to be clicking from link to link in an aimless quest for what?

I'll let you know how it goes. I am hoping the process leads me through the fear and back to my art and writing.

Being flexible

Yesterday I spent time doing things that were not on my to-do list (except for grocery shopping, but I forgot a portion of the things I wanted to get.) I made an unexpected purchase of ground meat (combo of beef, pork, and veal) which I customarily use to make meatballs. So I decided to make some meatballs to freeze. I also went with my husband to pick up an extra bed at my brother-in-law's house. It is part of his and my husband's childhood bunk beds. We have the other half. This necessitated a trip to the hardware store to get...well...hardware, for the beds. Because we do not live in close proximity to shopping, we decided to go out and hit some stores--while we were out and about. My husband got some running clothes (that will be a Christmas gift) and I got fabric remnants to make a thanksgiving table-runner. After all that, I needed a nap (more because I haven't been sleeping well than because of the rigors of shopping, but it was unplanned, at any rate.) Then it was off to watch college football with our friends. (This was planned, but it was supposed to be relaxing because I had accomplished all that I wanted to get done, namely prepare for my workshops and cover my kitchen chairs.)

So here I am in the early, early AM on Sunday morning, putting the finishing touches on my workshop presentations. I always get a little nervous before I begin. Too many variables to be secure in the process, some of which is out of my control. I will let you know how it goes. Today, also, we are welcoming my son's friend, who, due to a changed circumstance, is going to be spending the week with us. It probably won't be the last time, either. Hence, the additional bunk. I am grateful for all the people who have offered to help, and who are helping us to make his stay a smooth one, both for him and our family. That is my gratitude for today.

No Mo' NaNoWriMo

I am throwing in the towel of NaNoWriMo. The main reason is that the whole thing is paralyzing me with fear. I overcommited and didn't plan very well. NaNoWriMo is an excellent idea and I am sure I will pursue it in the future, but I will have an outline, completed character studies and...I don't know... a clue?



I think I need to regroup. What I would love is a writer's retreat with other writers. Perhaps I could get beyond this stumbling I have been doing. In a way, I do have the makings of a retreat--just not in the traditional format. I am conducting two journaling workshops this week and that always makes the creative juices flow. I think it is the community aspect that helps me. And on Monday, I am going to hear Francine Prose speak. She wrote many books, but among them, Reading Like A Writer, which I own and have read. Ms. Prose isn't limited to one kind of book. She has written novels, articles, children's books, nonfiction, and humor. My kind of gal. (I believe the term is multiple personality.)



And in between teaching and going to a lecture, I hope to get back to writing something just for love of writing. Maybe that is the real key.



I am committed to and will continue with my walking and blogging commitments, including the gratitude. Today I am thankful for the Lancaster Literary Guild who promotes reading, writing, and brings wonderful programs to the area.

Today's Gratitude

I am thankful for my art patrons. They have made today's holiday shopping possible.

Morning Journaling Practice

Hold out for shameless promotion. I am teaching two Morning Journaling workshops at Woman to Woman event this Sunday at the Lancaster YWCA. Many women giving many workshops and offering services such as massage and Reiki. Proceeds benefit domestic violence shelters and violence prevention programs. All for the low admission price of $12. It's a great deal. Food concession and a woman-crafted market is also available. The theme this year is AWAKENINGS.

I am looking forward to teaching my workshops. They will be a little different from my usual creative journaling workshops. For the most part, I espouse a carefree approach to journaling. It doesn't need to be daily. It doesn't and shouldn't just be about the writing. Add paint. Add magazine pictures. Color mandalas. Write Haiku. Get dirty.

But the Morning Journaling workshop is about ritual and commitment. I am not a ritualistic, meditative journaler--except in the time between Thanksgiving and New Years. And then, my journaling surges. It is almost a survival instinct I have. I like Thanksgiving and look forward to it, but Christmas, to me, is filled with such pressure--especially (in my experience) for the women of the household. I admit that I take on this responsibility and tend not to ask for help. I have a ridiculous Holiday Card list, and I feel the need to be creative--not just send out signed boxed cards. I hate to go shopping. Money always seems tight. I also have a problem with darkness. It is hard on me--and my family. I am miserable grouch until I sit in the serenity that is our church's Winter Solstice service.

So, I was glad to research morning journaling at this time of year when I can use it most. My morning walk is out--too dark in the country. Not enough sidewalks. So I write and prepare myself for the new year. In the past I have most often prescribed to the Julia Cameron morning pages form for my writing, but I have been looking into other options including setting intentions, creating your day, as well as poetry and work with color. I am extremely excited to give this workshop because in teaching, I always have a fuller experience of the subject, and I love interacting with other women. (My solitary daily life doesn't allow for enough of that.)

If you are in the area, please come out for the event. I promise that you will leave the YWCA with a lighter step than when you entered. You'll meet the most magnificent women, it is for a good cause, and you can enter the holiday season with new strategies.

Novel love oven lone

Writing a novel can be a real love/hate thing. The word novel has the word love in it and the word oven (as in stick your head in one). Yesterday, I was not feeling the love. Here's the deal. I have written two novels beyond SUMMERS AT BLUE LAKE. After working on them for three years and making many revisions, my agent isn't crazy to push either one. She really wants the next novel I sell to be "THE ONE" that makes my career take off. So no pressure, right? So I am working on my NaMoWriMo novel (A middle grade book for grades 4-6). And it seems to be going two steps forward, one step back. I am writing, writing, writing, and deleting. I question the character and the flow. I question the point of view. What if I spend all this time writing this thing and it still isn't the novel my agent has in mind for me? My confidence is shot. Add to that, the pressure of not succumbing to all the female stereotypes I read about in Packaging Girlhood. So yesterday I was feeling quite blue about the whole thing in spite of the fact that I really did get some writing done that day. I was about ready to start writing my resume and "get a real job." (That is an indication of how low I was feeling.)

But two things broke through to me while I was in this funk. One was a story in a magazine that I happened to be reading in the waiting room of my son's orthodontist. The story, by Robert Fulghum (the guy who wrote All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten), was so funny that I was shaking with repressed laughter. I was in danger of starting to snort. Please read Asbestos Gelos at your own risk.

The other item that gave me pause was a video of Paul Potts that my husband emailed to me. This one made me tear up. Perhaps everyone has seen this already, but I am sheltered at my writing desk, so I apologize if this is old news, but I did find it to be inspirational to me in my blue mood.

My gratitiude for today is for the way art touches my life in its many forms. Better than any drug.

Shadow Fairies

Once upon a time, I wrote a story (for my daughter) about girls who had such a negative self-images that they faded into shadows and floated into trees where their negative mantras became their shadow names. Names such as Bad at math, Clumsy Clod, and Fat. One day the shadow girls banded together when they saw a little girl on the verge of becoming a shadow. They went into her bedroom and sang affirmations to her while she slept. This continued every night with different girls, who were saved from becoming shadows by the constant hum of praises. The Shadow girls didn't notice what was happening, but in the process of helping others, they had started to sprout wings until they had become full-fledged fairies. The Shadow Fairies then saw each other for the glorious creatures they were, so they gave each other names of power and delight. Names like Rubysong, Isis, and Gloria.

I've been reading Packaging Girlhood (Last day--it goes back to the library today). The chapter I just read talked about the often degrading screen names that girls pick for themselves online. The align themselves with sex and with their gender (HottGurl69), instead of picking power names (HoopStar16) the way boys often do. It got me to thinking about the online identity I created. My original website was titled Divine Mother, Mortal Me. This was to imply that motherhood had been put up on a pedestal, and I could not possibly achieve the expected level of motherhood perfection. It was a site for moms who were frustrated creative people: painters, writers, and the like. So there was a little of the Divine Creator vs. the Daily Grind aspect.

Later I changed the name of my site and my online posting name to Mortal Mom. I had fallen into two traps here--the labeling myself by my limitations, as girls so often do was the first trap. The reason I did it (and the second trap) was to be liked by other moms--so others could relate me. I was using the same ploy as princess movies: the main character must be introduced as being clumsy or have spinach on her teeth so that girls can identify with her as a self-conscious entity before her rise to princess. My blog was filled with the foibles of a harried mom. I did write some positive press about myself, too, but I was always careful to balance it with some crack-up so I could not be accused of immodesty.

Now, I think about the women who are web sisters to me: French Toast Girl and Abeyta Creative. A celebration of their persons is implied in the names of their sites. On SARK's message board, where I met my web sisters, I used to go by SpiralAmethyst. That's a little better, showcasing things I like, and the spiritual path I am walking. But who could I be if I really allowed myself to be named for and identified with my strengths?

I can't even think of any ideas for screen names off the top of my head. I'd mention how pathetic that fact is, but I am trying not to put myself down.

Gratitude for the day--my online friends who encourage me to let my light shine.

Walking to the polls

Today I walked to my polling place. Round-trip the walk was a little over 3 miles. Originally, I was just doing it to get exercise. Perfect distance, warmish fall day. Why not? But as I was walking I had such a profound feeling of gratitude. I started to think about the people all over the world who have no choice, but gladly walk well over 3 miles to their polling places so that they can have some say in the way they are governed. Then I thought about the effort of those suffragettes who made voting possible for me as a woman. I chose to put effort into my voting process today. In doing so, it made me appreciate how easy it has been for me to drive to a convenient location, stand in a short line, and be counted. And that is my gratitude for today. The only way that the voting process could be any better for me is if I voted at the same location as my grandpa. He lives near the MnM factory, and they have free candy upon exiting at his polling place. (In case you were wondering: in that election, I voted for the Mars candy people to add the purple MnM's to the colors in the regular bag.)

Walking my plot

I am a walker. I used to be a runner. (I still have aspirations of running, but every time I tired to do this in October, my lungs burned, and a day later I had a bad cold. ) This month in addition to writing a novel, committing to blog everyday, and committing to gratitude, I have set a walking goal of 60 miles. That might not seem like much--2 miles a day. I was averaging 3.5 miles a day over the summer, but I was doing it at 6 AM. Now, my early morning window has closed due to darkness. This goal will force me to get out and do the walk mid-day. But I have made this goal for another reason--walking and running really helps me with my plot. I can work out story lines in my head. Okay, so I'm not really conscious of the still changing leaves and the verdant grasses of an unusually warm autumn, but I am not noticing the body aches, either. It is a walking meditation on how to proceed with my book or how to solve problems I am having in my writing. Though it seems like I am not doing anything work-related, it is probably my most productive time of the day. Sometimes, I have to remind myself of that fact as I tear myself away from the computer and put on my sneakers.



Today's gratitude is for my daily walk and its restorative properties for mind, body, and writing career.

Creating Girl Characters

In my previous post, I wrote that I was having trouble with my ten-year-old girl character. I want to make her feisty, but I am starting her off as kind of a blob. I want girls to identify with her, but it is kind of hard. They would have to trust me for the first half of the book. I have a ten-year-old daughter in my household. If she makes it through the first half of any book, it is amazing.

I've been reading the book Packaging Girlhood. I just finished the chapter on the princess movies/books and what stereotypes they use. Their examination of the movies showed that the main characters often have traits that show off weaknesses such as clumsiness and awkwardness so that girls out there can relate to their self-consciousness. Is that the number one attribute that girls relate to? And yet, I was falling into that trap. My character was nondescript and lonely. I've decided to rewrite my character as a smart girl who the system just forgot. Maybe she does blend into the background a little, but that's because teachers don't call on girls as much as they call on boys in the class. Also, teachers don't need to concentrate on the smart kids. They are the ones who are doing well, so they don't need the encouragement. So I am going to give this girl a mind from the beginning. What if she's lonely because she is in a reading level beyond her peers?

The other point that Packaging Girlhood pointed out is another plot point in my book. I am going to give the girl someone to help her along, but the woman is in a grandmother role. Apparently, wise grandmother-types are the rage, at the expense of mother bonding. A few years ago, I boycotted the Disney princesses, not because they were silly stereotypes with unattainable cartoon-drawn bodies, but because I was sick of reading stories aloud to my daughter in which the protagonist had no mother. None of them have mothers. I would love to create a good mother/daughter story. I'm just not sure how to do it. One of the reasons that the orphan archetype does so well in youth literature is that it is a device that it gives the reader a tangible story to illustrate the process of separating from her parents and forging her own identity. Must a daughter disassociate from a mother to do this? A grandmother figure provides guidance, but is removed from the mother by a generation.

I won't get a chance to write more of my novel today. I am going to a bridal shower which is 2 1/2 hours away. But you can bet, I'll be reading Packaging Girlhood in the car and taking some notes to better formulate my character to create her in the way I want to see girls portrayed.

For my comment crew--What are some of the great girl characters in literature?
I'm thinking Harriet the Spy, Laura Ingalls, Lyra (from His Dark Materials), Margaret (Are you there God, It's Me Margaret). They are some of my favorites and today my gratitude moment is for them, the fabulous girl characters who were such a real part of my growing-up years that I count them as friends.
Who are your favs?

NaNoWriMo Blues

I am thankful for coffee. Is that a lame gratitude statement? It is because I just picked something in front of me. Get the gratitude over with, so I can grumble. How pathetic is that?

I have been sitting at my computer for 3 hours on this Saturday morning. I am ready to bang my head against the wall. In three more hours, we are having company. It is a casual football-watching party that I must nonetheless prepare for by doing dishes, shopping for snacks, and supervise cleaning of common areas. I am not a football fan, so I never take games into consideration when I make out my to-do list. This far into the college football season, you would think that I would not be surprised that there is a game, and our TV is the only one around to get the game. I guess I got a reprieve last week, when Mark actually attended the game instead of watching it at home.

The real heart of the matter is not the football game. I am just using that as a scapegoat. The truth is that I am having a tough time with my novel for NaNoWriMo. Why can't I just write a straight-forward book? My strengths as a writer are my style and my sense of humor. But for some reason, I feel that there is a disconnect. Somehow, my writing keeps its distance from the reader. I want a reader to be wrapped up in the story. Here's my current dilemma. I am writing a book about a ten-year old girl for ten-year old girls. But my narrator is in the tradition of the fairy-godmother meets Willy Wonka meets Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. The narrator is funny, all-knowing, wacky grandmother type, but my ten-year old girl is a blob. How do I connect with my readers when the character they are supposed to identify with is a blob? That's part of the story. She is unremarkable at first, but then she finds her talents and her voice and comes screaming into the world in technicolor. I guess I need to give hints of the girl-to-be and hope that readers can relate.

It's is driving me crazy. I have only the vaguest sense of the plot and where it is going. So the writing is not going well and it is only day 3 of NaNoWriMo. My gut tells me to push through this hard part. Keep writing and I can repair the damage later. I guess the worst thing that can happen is that I write a whole book that needs to be rewritten, but one that can be used as a guide when I do rewrite. The problem with this is that after a writing session, I don't feel a sense of accomplishment--I feel angry at the world for not connecting with me. Come to think of it, maybe I could use a break where I watch people smash into each other while I sit back and wear my molars down on crunchy snacks.

I forgot my gratitude for the day!

I have to remember to include my gratitude moment this month since I have also signed up to be grateful in this month-long blogging project. Today I am grateful for my husband. Yes, his technology makes my life a bit messy sometimes, but he always fixes more problems than he creates. He is great with the kids. If I need something, he finds a way to make it happen. He even tries to keep ahead of my needs. Little things, but they let me know he is thinking of me--and that's a big thing. Yesterday he bought me some power bars because they were on sale, and he gave me a $10 bill as I was on the way out the door to dance. (I have a little indulgence on Thursday nights. While my daughter is at her 90 min dance lesson, I go with another mother to the restaurant across the street. We hash out our past week and give each other support over a glass of wine. As far as therapy goes--it's a bargain.)
This morning I was very early for a hair appointment, and I shared waiting room time with two widows. They were both telling stories of their husbands and how much they missed them. Mark and I have a date planned for this weekend. It's a silly date--I'm sure I'll blog about it later, but I am happy we are making time for one another, and I am thankful to have had him in my life all these years.

Technology vs. Simplicity

My husband is a tech guy. He has our house wired. He makes things out of spare computer parts and these things do tricks like announce telephone callers. I would not say I am a technophobe; I'm not. I just don't like technology when there is a simpler solution. For a couple of years, on my husband's urging, I switched from a paper organizer to a PDA. We both had the same model. I was supposed to be able to beam my schedule to him. We were going to have a household synching station with a screen that displayed a common schedule. That never happened. Instead--once a month, I'd print out my calendar and give it to Mark. He would ignore the printout and ask me things like, "Don't we have something going on this week?" Now, we have a magnet wipe-off calendar that is divided by weeks. We have 8 weeks worth of family agenda, color-coded by person, on the fridge. It's the best family tip I have. Low-tech.

Still, there are things I use technology for. I do all my writing on computer. I depend on email to keep in touch. Don't try to take my digital camera away from me. But this week technology seemed against me. Computer problems. ATM card had a malfunction. Phone calls didn't go through. The sensor I have been wearing on my shoe to track my walking miles just went dead for no reason. It's been a pain.

Hubby just showed me a new camera card that automatically loads your pictures to a website over your wireless network. It sounds great, but the more I hear about the advance of technology, the more I long for simpler things: the feel of a book in my hand, a rocking chair, a hand knit scarf, warm soup in a handcrafted bowl, and a snoring dog by my side.

Mark and I have given some thought to building another house. It's probably 10 years away, but we ahve fun dreaming. I think it'll be something like Star Trek meets Little House on the Prairie.

November is here!

With all that I have planned for November, I sit here today and wonder what I will be saying to myself on December 1st? Will I have accomplished all I set out to do, or will it be a disappointment like October, riddled with colds and odd deviations to the schedule? Right now I sit next to November like it is a present waiting to be opened. I am idealistic. A palm reader at a Halloween party told me as much. She also said that my idealism can easily turn to cynicism with the world. And yet I turn my cynicism around and embrace each new month. Today I am going to write like crazy, get my walk in, and await the great mysteries. As I have promised to blog (NaBloPoMo) every day, this is a journey I will take with others. As I have also promised to be grateful each day, I think I'll have a better chance of keep the cynic at bay.

So here is my first bit of gratitude: I am thankful for new beginnings and for opportunity.