The other day I began wondering if getting my master's degree might be a big mistake—all that time disappearing. Truthfully, I'm intensely ambitious in the present only. I do make a hobby of crafting big goals for my life, but I suspect it's just because the act of making plans is such an engaging pastime in the present.
Trying (and failing) to think of one long-term goal I have set and actually brought to fruition, I realize I may have a commitment issue. The immediate pain of losing time to spend with friends, work on my manuscript, play my piano, watch movies, and play WoW makes me feel I've lost something. Not to mention all those activities are immediately gratifying: a level gained here, a chapter polished there, a phrase suddenly becoming smooth under my fingers.
This isn't the first time I've gotten into one of these self-questioning frames of mind and rationalized my way out of a commitment, either. But wait! This story has a happy ending, after all.
Instead of feeling discouraged, I did something uncharacteristic, something I haven't done before: I visualized my future. I love to hate the word visualization, mostly because my mind generally refuses to craft a clear image. In this case I don't think I needed one.
All I needed was to imagine how it felt. I let my imagination wander, curious where it would go: I imagined my sandaled feet disappearing beneath a long skirt, eyes in their comfort zone hitting matte black at every angle. I was backstage, but on a quiet day, surveying. Something smelled like sawdust. I imagined a group of jovial adults gathered there to rehearse in the evenings, much like the groups I used to perform with—a pit orchestra wedged between empty seats and stage. Kids in a classroom reading a script for the first time, maybe even one they had written. Opening nights. Music. A small office, tidy, maybe with a secondhand couch, that I may or may not walk into with a baby cradled against my body in a sling.
I may never have this. Life has a way of handing us something slightly different than we had planned. But in imagining what I could create someday, I made my current efforts seem worth it. I guess this is what overly optimistic types call "keeping your eyes on the prize." I don't think I ever thought about what that means. Now I have an idea: when it's hard to see past the and nots (and not having endless hours to wander through writing and singing and aimlessness), sometimes we need to reach out and touch the thing we're working for in the end. Because in reality, 18 months is hardly any time at all.
And as a creative person, that imagining shouldn't be so hard to do.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
And the Graduate Adventure Begins...
Yesterday I began my first grad school course. I think I've been feeling as if, because my degree program is exclusively online, I can weave it seamlessly into my everyday life. Not so. An accelerated 18-month master's program does not slip into one's life unnoticed.
I posted this sentiment on my Facebook profile last night and a friend commented, "welcome to no time ever!" I've always struggled with time management. Actually, I'm surprised I don't have a tag for it yet. The fact that workaholic me said right off the bat I need to make sure I set aside time to practice piano, play WoW, and watch movies is a good sign, though. I'm no stranger to burnout, and every once in a while I take great pains to avoid it.
However, I feel distinctly ready to break out Stephen Covey's Seven Habits again. At times like this I need to remember, above all, how everything we do is a choice. Putting away dishes while a pot of water is boiling. Getting lost on Facebook, spying on people I haven't spoken to since 2003. Using my early Saturday morning to write, not clean or play video games, because I know mornings are where my ideas live. Sitting down at the piano. Watching a movie with my friends or husband. Working extra hours because I feel overwhelmed by my workload.
Each of these things represents prioritizing one thing over another. One of those half-hour jags on Wikipedia could have been a half hour of writing practice. I need to remember that making time for fun stuff is okay (not to mention necessary!) and I should feel good about viewing each time expenditure as a conscious decision. Would I really decide not to write on my manuscript so I could spend 45 minutes reading about people I don't know on the internet? Do I feel comfortable justifying an extra hour at the office—which, let's face it, is not going to be the thing that makes the difference in terms of praise or achievement—in favor of cooking a nice dinner with friends I'm intensely thankful to have in my life?
At first I feared all this time crunching would lead me away from the blog. I think it may do the opposite. It may make it better. Incidentally, the first articles I've had to read have focused on creating multi-dimensional definitions of success by recognizing your own needs, values, and work style. As I continue to face plenty of challenges and shifts in the course of my life, this sort of critical thinking will serve me well. It will also, more than likely, give me plenty of fodder for my writing. We'll see where this big adventure leads, but I'm quite hopeful the challenge will prove worthy of my efforts (and vice versa).
I posted this sentiment on my Facebook profile last night and a friend commented, "welcome to no time ever!" I've always struggled with time management. Actually, I'm surprised I don't have a tag for it yet. The fact that workaholic me said right off the bat I need to make sure I set aside time to practice piano, play WoW, and watch movies is a good sign, though. I'm no stranger to burnout, and every once in a while I take great pains to avoid it.
However, I feel distinctly ready to break out Stephen Covey's Seven Habits again. At times like this I need to remember, above all, how everything we do is a choice. Putting away dishes while a pot of water is boiling. Getting lost on Facebook, spying on people I haven't spoken to since 2003. Using my early Saturday morning to write, not clean or play video games, because I know mornings are where my ideas live. Sitting down at the piano. Watching a movie with my friends or husband. Working extra hours because I feel overwhelmed by my workload.
Each of these things represents prioritizing one thing over another. One of those half-hour jags on Wikipedia could have been a half hour of writing practice. I need to remember that making time for fun stuff is okay (not to mention necessary!) and I should feel good about viewing each time expenditure as a conscious decision. Would I really decide not to write on my manuscript so I could spend 45 minutes reading about people I don't know on the internet? Do I feel comfortable justifying an extra hour at the office—which, let's face it, is not going to be the thing that makes the difference in terms of praise or achievement—in favor of cooking a nice dinner with friends I'm intensely thankful to have in my life?
At first I feared all this time crunching would lead me away from the blog. I think it may do the opposite. It may make it better. Incidentally, the first articles I've had to read have focused on creating multi-dimensional definitions of success by recognizing your own needs, values, and work style. As I continue to face plenty of challenges and shifts in the course of my life, this sort of critical thinking will serve me well. It will also, more than likely, give me plenty of fodder for my writing. We'll see where this big adventure leads, but I'm quite hopeful the challenge will prove worthy of my efforts (and vice versa).
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Reading.
Yesterday I went to the library to pay my fines (I'd gotten in a bad way post-surgery and neglected to return a big stack of books), enjoy the air conditioning, and pick out a new stack of novels. Being able to walk four blocks to my local library definitely ranks high on my list of things to love about city life, hence why I was appalled that my convalescence, followed by my late fine issues, contributed to my only finishing four (!) books so far this year.
Mind you, there are others that I've started and not finished, but that hardly counts. Any artist worth her salt knows you've got to expose yourself to what's out there if you want to succeed. Even if you're creating work that's wholly original, it still exists in our cultural context and in the larger canon of People Doing Work in Similar Genres. So even if no one's doing performance art quite like yours, there are still thousands of performance artists out there and you'd damn well better know what a a bunch of them are doing.
To that end, I've been trying to take in a healthy dose of young adult fiction. Part of me feels very reassured by what I'm reading, in that even though this is published work, I feel I could still mark it up and give plenty of editorial suggestions. Also, when I work on my own manuscript I feel more and more like it's developing the proper tone for a young adult novel.
The only hang-up is, sometimes I find young adult fiction a bit patronizing or superficial or just plain, well, juvenile. And that's not what I want for my work—at all. So I feel I need to walk a fine line between addressing "adult" issues and content in a way that's accessible for younger (i.e. late teen) readers and producing high-caliber writing.
As an aside, remember how I read a 472-page book in one sitting a while back? I've already finished one book since 3:00 yesterday afternoon and I'm well into another. This is a genre I tend to plow through like snack food at an all-day conference: after going back a few times I realize I've eaten way more than anyone could consider dignified. I'm offsetting this by also reading The Tempest and a real and true grown-up novel that kept catching my eye on the library shelves.
While we're on the subject of books, here's an open call: of the young adult fiction I read, much of it has (spoiler alert!) LGBT themes. If you've got any favorites, especially ones that focus on the 'B' in LGBT (underrepresented, you don't have to tell me), please let me know!
Mind you, there are others that I've started and not finished, but that hardly counts. Any artist worth her salt knows you've got to expose yourself to what's out there if you want to succeed. Even if you're creating work that's wholly original, it still exists in our cultural context and in the larger canon of People Doing Work in Similar Genres. So even if no one's doing performance art quite like yours, there are still thousands of performance artists out there and you'd damn well better know what a a bunch of them are doing.
To that end, I've been trying to take in a healthy dose of young adult fiction. Part of me feels very reassured by what I'm reading, in that even though this is published work, I feel I could still mark it up and give plenty of editorial suggestions. Also, when I work on my own manuscript I feel more and more like it's developing the proper tone for a young adult novel.
The only hang-up is, sometimes I find young adult fiction a bit patronizing or superficial or just plain, well, juvenile. And that's not what I want for my work—at all. So I feel I need to walk a fine line between addressing "adult" issues and content in a way that's accessible for younger (i.e. late teen) readers and producing high-caliber writing.
As an aside, remember how I read a 472-page book in one sitting a while back? I've already finished one book since 3:00 yesterday afternoon and I'm well into another. This is a genre I tend to plow through like snack food at an all-day conference: after going back a few times I realize I've eaten way more than anyone could consider dignified. I'm offsetting this by also reading The Tempest and a real and true grown-up novel that kept catching my eye on the library shelves.
While we're on the subject of books, here's an open call: of the young adult fiction I read, much of it has (spoiler alert!) LGBT themes. If you've got any favorites, especially ones that focus on the 'B' in LGBT (underrepresented, you don't have to tell me), please let me know!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
May Rundown
June is here, May is over, and it's time to take a look over my goals for 2010 and see what I've been up to. Struggling with ADD often means I lose track of the contents of my days pretty easily, so pausing every once in a while to reflect really helps me figure out what I'm doing with all this passing time. While everyone at the office complains about doing their monthly reports during the first week of the month, I'm thankful for the benchmark/barometer.
May had 31 days to it this year, and I only sat down and did my daily writing practice for 21 of them. That's barely even most of the time, so I need some work there. On the bright side, I wrote a lot on some of those days, in addition to doing some good work on my manuscript. I just need to make sure I'm carving out time every single day and not letting "extenuating" circumstances become an every-other-day occurrence.
In the latter half of May I finally got myself down to Single Carrot Theatre, which is certainly something I'd like to continue doing. In college I had a friend who'd take me to plays, and I guess part of me thought I'd always have a person like that in my life. This month I learned that maybe I need to be that person for others!
A plug for Baltimore folks: Single Carrot is in a great spot (Station North: lots of new art spaces, plus easily accessible and free of the parking and/or transit complications of Mt. Vernon or downtown) and provides an intimate theatre experience not to be missed. The show I just saw was the sort I can measure by how long I spent cocking my head to one side—it's a slightly embarrassing habit when I'm really studying a piece of creative work. Plus you get a complimentary glass of wine or soda and a cheerful greeting when you walk in the door!
Directly after our theater excursion, my husband left me all alone for a weekend, and I took advantage of the opportunity to spend the morning writing at Carma's Cafe in Charles Village. Baltimore plug number two: Carma's is another absolutely can't miss. Sitting for two hours and focusing solidly on my work was a challenge, but that's why I made it a goal in 2010! That work session got me over a big editing hump, and I think this weekend I'll try dropping by the Evergreen, where all the trendy writers seem to hang out on their laptops.
In terms of big projects, I rededicated myself to editing my manuscript and got some really nice work done on it. I also started decluttering the house and making way for my new work space by spending an entire weekend in the basement sorting through stuff (and deciding to give most of it away to the Salvation Army). Big life news arrived on the scene, too, as I enrolled in an online MBA program concentrating in non-profit management.
While I'm not ready to move/create my office quite yet—our quick-and-cheap basement remodel needs to happen first—I did buy a real desk chair. My back is thanking me at this very moment, and typing away at my desk feels so much nicer!
All in all, I feel good about May, if not the first half of June. I've gone through a lot of rededication to my creative practice, and it feels good to be getting my life back again after my surgery disrupted the rhythm of things so much.
May had 31 days to it this year, and I only sat down and did my daily writing practice for 21 of them. That's barely even most of the time, so I need some work there. On the bright side, I wrote a lot on some of those days, in addition to doing some good work on my manuscript. I just need to make sure I'm carving out time every single day and not letting "extenuating" circumstances become an every-other-day occurrence.
In the latter half of May I finally got myself down to Single Carrot Theatre, which is certainly something I'd like to continue doing. In college I had a friend who'd take me to plays, and I guess part of me thought I'd always have a person like that in my life. This month I learned that maybe I need to be that person for others!
A plug for Baltimore folks: Single Carrot is in a great spot (Station North: lots of new art spaces, plus easily accessible and free of the parking and/or transit complications of Mt. Vernon or downtown) and provides an intimate theatre experience not to be missed. The show I just saw was the sort I can measure by how long I spent cocking my head to one side—it's a slightly embarrassing habit when I'm really studying a piece of creative work. Plus you get a complimentary glass of wine or soda and a cheerful greeting when you walk in the door!
In terms of big projects, I rededicated myself to editing my manuscript and got some really nice work done on it. I also started decluttering the house and making way for my new work space by spending an entire weekend in the basement sorting through stuff (and deciding to give most of it away to the Salvation Army). Big life news arrived on the scene, too, as I enrolled in an online MBA program concentrating in non-profit management.
While I'm not ready to move/create my office quite yet—our quick-and-cheap basement remodel needs to happen first—I did buy a real desk chair. My back is thanking me at this very moment, and typing away at my desk feels so much nicer!
All in all, I feel good about May, if not the first half of June. I've gone through a lot of rededication to my creative practice, and it feels good to be getting my life back again after my surgery disrupted the rhythm of things so much.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Trying to Avoid a Crash
Summer is definitely upon us, and this is one of those busy summers that comes around every couple years. Last summer was beautiful and adventurous and full of friends and mojitos and space to slow down if we wanted to. I dug a big pile of bricks out of the yard and used them to edge the garden, I weeded and I cleaned. I stayed out until 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning caught up in late-night, lounge on the couch, doze off and wake up conversations.
This summer promises to flash before my eyes, swept up in a whirlwind of weddings and scheduled family weekends and reunions and...done. Right now stands a chance of being the worst of it, with twice-a-week physical therapy, busy times at work, and some ill-planned trips out of town. We returned from Memorial Day weekend on Monday night, only to leave this Thursday for another weekend away.
I haven't felt an exhaustion this bottomless since October, when I was part of a dreadfully understaffed team putting on our first-ever gala event at work. I keep wishing for something to grab hold of me and pull me safely to the other side. Now, like then, I'm not sure how I'm going to make it to the next foothold: next Friday. A free weekend.
Through all of this, though, I've been making a concerted effort to have restful time in the evenings. Tonight I came home from a nine and a half hour work day and promptly devised a way I could avoid doing laundry until Monday. Then I played the piano for a while, wrote in my notebook, washed the dishes. All things that enforce a slowing down. An even pace.
Somehow, through that dedication to not running myself completely into the ground, I've managed to get into editing full swing. Chapters are getting chewed up, expanded, soon even added.
It's so helpful to slow down at times like this, remember what makes me feel most satisfied about my life, and stop to do something that gives me space to think.
Speaking of pianos, great news! Mine arrived safe and sound about a week ago, and it looks beautiful in my dining room. It's anywhere between 80 and 100 years old, and I've played it every day (assuming I've been home) since it arrived. This piano has been in my family since at least the 1930s, broken for most of that time, and just now fixed! Ironically, it just took someone like me saying "I want to fix this," because the repair itself was surprisingly inexpensive.
This summer promises to flash before my eyes, swept up in a whirlwind of weddings and scheduled family weekends and reunions and...done. Right now stands a chance of being the worst of it, with twice-a-week physical therapy, busy times at work, and some ill-planned trips out of town. We returned from Memorial Day weekend on Monday night, only to leave this Thursday for another weekend away.
I haven't felt an exhaustion this bottomless since October, when I was part of a dreadfully understaffed team putting on our first-ever gala event at work. I keep wishing for something to grab hold of me and pull me safely to the other side. Now, like then, I'm not sure how I'm going to make it to the next foothold: next Friday. A free weekend.
Through all of this, though, I've been making a concerted effort to have restful time in the evenings. Tonight I came home from a nine and a half hour work day and promptly devised a way I could avoid doing laundry until Monday. Then I played the piano for a while, wrote in my notebook, washed the dishes. All things that enforce a slowing down. An even pace.
Somehow, through that dedication to not running myself completely into the ground, I've managed to get into editing full swing. Chapters are getting chewed up, expanded, soon even added.
It's so helpful to slow down at times like this, remember what makes me feel most satisfied about my life, and stop to do something that gives me space to think.
Speaking of pianos, great news! Mine arrived safe and sound about a week ago, and it looks beautiful in my dining room. It's anywhere between 80 and 100 years old, and I've played it every day (assuming I've been home) since it arrived. This piano has been in my family since at least the 1930s, broken for most of that time, and just now fixed! Ironically, it just took someone like me saying "I want to fix this," because the repair itself was surprisingly inexpensive.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Waiting.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Accepting Rust
So a lot of exciting things are going on! As a brief summary, I checked another item off my list of things I absolutely have to do in 2010 by seeing CRUMBLE (Lay Me Down, Justin Timberlake) at Single Carrot Theatre on Thursday. I liked the play and thought it was well-executed on all fronts, so nothing but good news there.
In other good news, Piano Day is almost upon us! I'm fulfilling a lifelong dream on Wednesday, when I'm expecting an antique piano to arrive in my dining room. There will be a post about the piano's history, plus photos of its arrival. Yay!
However, before I get into all that (there will be time enough midweek), I've been thinking lately about perfectionism, aptitude, and attitude when it comes to creative work. I've said it before and I'll probably say it many more times: I struggle with perfectionism as an impediment to my work.
Despite all I've said about it, though, I've never mentioned the one case where aptitude won out against perfectionism in my life. When I was nine years old, I decided to learn to play the flute. It wasn't my first instrument or my last, but it was by far my best. For many years, I planned on playing my flute as a career, getting a BFA in music performance and signing on with a major symphony orchestra.
The flute was/is the one art I have ever felt, deep in my heart, set me apart from the crowd in a big way. Yes, I gave poor auditions and yes, I played obvious wrong notes sometimes. But I never felt I had met my match among my peers. This was something I felt unequivocally great at--when I tried to be the best, I was.
However, by virtue of self-doubt (as always, I wondered if I had the focus) and/or listening to other people, I didn't get that music degree. To this day, I gravitate toward people with performing arts degrees because I feel I relate to them on some basic level, but if I chime in too much I end up feeling like an outsider. A fake. A wannabe. After all, anyone can be a big fish in a small pond. Every teenager wants to take the stage for thousands of people. But I never really showed the world what I had.
At the same time, I know few people with performing arts degrees who have made it their primary career. In fact, if I look at my two closest friends with BFAs in performance, both are working for non-profit organizations, just like me. It's possible--maybe even likely--that I would have ended up in the very same place with or without the music degree I always wanted.
These days, I spend a lot of time singing and playing the piano, mostly because it's a great solo combination. I don't need to rely on a group of fellow performers to give me context. But I can't help but wonder if falling in love with being a mediocre singer is, in some sense, an easy way out. Not that I don't enjoy or shouldn't do those things, but no one is ever going to watch me sing and approach me afterward to say "that was incredible. Really incredible."
And by the same token, it hurts a lot to know that at this point, no one's going to say that after seeing me perform on anything. Not playing for four years while I went to college really set me back, and it's hard to get out my flute without focusing more on what's not there than what is.
I'd like to touch on this again, and more: the knowledge that I'm free to do anything I want, but I'm often impeded by the feeling that I've turned my back on something fundamentally important in my life. I really need to own the spot I'm in and make it what I want, but that's hard work indeed for a self-critical perfectionist like me. I'm interested to know if this is a common struggle for people who devote a lot of energy to a creative art in their younger years, only to be set back by a demanding degree program, a lack of a piano or fellow musicians, or a pure and simple lapse. Everything comes back eventually, but it's hard to face the reality at first. It's hard to realize you've let a great tool get rusty.
In other good news, Piano Day is almost upon us! I'm fulfilling a lifelong dream on Wednesday, when I'm expecting an antique piano to arrive in my dining room. There will be a post about the piano's history, plus photos of its arrival. Yay!
However, before I get into all that (there will be time enough midweek), I've been thinking lately about perfectionism, aptitude, and attitude when it comes to creative work. I've said it before and I'll probably say it many more times: I struggle with perfectionism as an impediment to my work.
Despite all I've said about it, though, I've never mentioned the one case where aptitude won out against perfectionism in my life. When I was nine years old, I decided to learn to play the flute. It wasn't my first instrument or my last, but it was by far my best. For many years, I planned on playing my flute as a career, getting a BFA in music performance and signing on with a major symphony orchestra.
The flute was/is the one art I have ever felt, deep in my heart, set me apart from the crowd in a big way. Yes, I gave poor auditions and yes, I played obvious wrong notes sometimes. But I never felt I had met my match among my peers. This was something I felt unequivocally great at--when I tried to be the best, I was.
However, by virtue of self-doubt (as always, I wondered if I had the focus) and/or listening to other people, I didn't get that music degree. To this day, I gravitate toward people with performing arts degrees because I feel I relate to them on some basic level, but if I chime in too much I end up feeling like an outsider. A fake. A wannabe. After all, anyone can be a big fish in a small pond. Every teenager wants to take the stage for thousands of people. But I never really showed the world what I had.At the same time, I know few people with performing arts degrees who have made it their primary career. In fact, if I look at my two closest friends with BFAs in performance, both are working for non-profit organizations, just like me. It's possible--maybe even likely--that I would have ended up in the very same place with or without the music degree I always wanted.
These days, I spend a lot of time singing and playing the piano, mostly because it's a great solo combination. I don't need to rely on a group of fellow performers to give me context. But I can't help but wonder if falling in love with being a mediocre singer is, in some sense, an easy way out. Not that I don't enjoy or shouldn't do those things, but no one is ever going to watch me sing and approach me afterward to say "that was incredible. Really incredible."
And by the same token, it hurts a lot to know that at this point, no one's going to say that after seeing me perform on anything. Not playing for four years while I went to college really set me back, and it's hard to get out my flute without focusing more on what's not there than what is. I'd like to touch on this again, and more: the knowledge that I'm free to do anything I want, but I'm often impeded by the feeling that I've turned my back on something fundamentally important in my life. I really need to own the spot I'm in and make it what I want, but that's hard work indeed for a self-critical perfectionist like me. I'm interested to know if this is a common struggle for people who devote a lot of energy to a creative art in their younger years, only to be set back by a demanding degree program, a lack of a piano or fellow musicians, or a pure and simple lapse. Everything comes back eventually, but it's hard to face the reality at first. It's hard to realize you've let a great tool get rusty.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The First Step
After coming to the conclusion that no one in the world wanted to help me clean out my basement -- or even sit and make conversation with me while I did all the work myself -- I decided to make a weekend out of it all on my own.
The situation: about a year ago, my parents packed a van full of all my childhood/teenage possessions that still existed in their house. My basement, which I'd just spent a long time cleaning and felt great about, was suddenly full of boxes upon boxes of completely unorganized junk. A lot of it had memories attached, and the task of dealing with all that stuff was so big and nebulous I just avoided the basement altogether -- until this weekend! Really, there's no pretty way to say it:
I began the day on Saturday with coffee in my Tomorrowland mug (which I love) and leftover brownies. Delicious!
By the time I reached 4:00 this afternoon, every muscle in my body was tired, but I was only one Broadway musical away from the finish line (more on this in a minute). The fatigue in my veins felt almost cleansing, pleasant to my calmed senses. Cleaning out makes my whole life feel lighter. By letting go of all the extraneous stuff in my life, I can give my mind room to breathe while really cherishing the artifacts I do choose to save from my past.
Remembering the 7 Habits, I began my weekend with the end in mind. Clearing out the basement and building a room down there is the first step in a chain reaction that will give me a really nice writing space. One of my goals for this year is to establish an "office" that acts as a writing studio, a space that I feel great about rolling out of bed and heading into to write in the morning. Letting go of a lifetime of clutter (which is totally empowering anyway) will allow this to happen, and that awareness really kept me motivated while I worked.
In the course of my travels through the mess I found some angsty artwork from seventh grade and a truly scary marionette.
Also, rather than exhausting myself entirely early on, I made sure to pace myself and take breaks before I reached a state where I absolutely couldn't go on. I started with on-the-go playlists on my iPod, but quickly began using musicals to divide my time into manageable chunks. Not wanting to break up the story, I stayed put until each show was over. I listened to:
Gypsy
Passion
Into the Woods (actually too long for this -- I got really tired by the end!)
Songs for a New World
Between musicals I made sure to take legitimate breaks: sit on the couch and read, play WoW, lay down, write in my notebook, etc. And guess what: I made it! Much like they do on reality TV, I sorted all the stuff I wanted to keep (actually less than I thought -- the picture below shows about 1/3 of it) into our storage room and left the main basement room full of boxes to give away. Now to figure out where it can go!
All in all, it was a great and productive weekend. I even found a binder full of letters that inspired me toward a major writing project. I've been waiting for the right protagonist to stumble into my life, and I think I've got him. But that's "a whole nother" post, as they say.
And look, I even got a chance to pot some tomatoes and strawberries for late-summer snacking!
The situation: about a year ago, my parents packed a van full of all my childhood/teenage possessions that still existed in their house. My basement, which I'd just spent a long time cleaning and felt great about, was suddenly full of boxes upon boxes of completely unorganized junk. A lot of it had memories attached, and the task of dealing with all that stuff was so big and nebulous I just avoided the basement altogether -- until this weekend! Really, there's no pretty way to say it:
I began the day on Saturday with coffee in my Tomorrowland mug (which I love) and leftover brownies. Delicious!
By the time I reached 4:00 this afternoon, every muscle in my body was tired, but I was only one Broadway musical away from the finish line (more on this in a minute). The fatigue in my veins felt almost cleansing, pleasant to my calmed senses. Cleaning out makes my whole life feel lighter. By letting go of all the extraneous stuff in my life, I can give my mind room to breathe while really cherishing the artifacts I do choose to save from my past.
Remembering the 7 Habits, I began my weekend with the end in mind. Clearing out the basement and building a room down there is the first step in a chain reaction that will give me a really nice writing space. One of my goals for this year is to establish an "office" that acts as a writing studio, a space that I feel great about rolling out of bed and heading into to write in the morning. Letting go of a lifetime of clutter (which is totally empowering anyway) will allow this to happen, and that awareness really kept me motivated while I worked.
In the course of my travels through the mess I found some angsty artwork from seventh grade and a truly scary marionette.
Also, rather than exhausting myself entirely early on, I made sure to pace myself and take breaks before I reached a state where I absolutely couldn't go on. I started with on-the-go playlists on my iPod, but quickly began using musicals to divide my time into manageable chunks. Not wanting to break up the story, I stayed put until each show was over. I listened to:
Gypsy
Passion
Into the Woods (actually too long for this -- I got really tired by the end!)
Songs for a New World
Between musicals I made sure to take legitimate breaks: sit on the couch and read, play WoW, lay down, write in my notebook, etc. And guess what: I made it! Much like they do on reality TV, I sorted all the stuff I wanted to keep (actually less than I thought -- the picture below shows about 1/3 of it) into our storage room and left the main basement room full of boxes to give away. Now to figure out where it can go!
All in all, it was a great and productive weekend. I even found a binder full of letters that inspired me toward a major writing project. I've been waiting for the right protagonist to stumble into my life, and I think I've got him. But that's "a whole nother" post, as they say.
And look, I even got a chance to pot some tomatoes and strawberries for late-summer snacking!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Singing New Songs
Recently I recorded another song phrase in Evernote with the intention of fleshing it out later. I did this a few weeks ago with another song, actually wrote down the lyrics to the whole thing shortly after singing a single phrase. I can feel an organic process developing here, and I like it. I haven't mandated or structured this, I've just let it happen. Part of me realized that making songs is sort of like my other writing: lots of rewrites, lots of revision, polishing pieces and making them into a whole later.
It's reassuring to know I can develop a process that feels good when I used to discourage myself so much -- thinking if something wasn't perfect I had to scrap it. Refusing to believe in rough drafts for songs and poetry.
I've written about relaxing before, and how performers need to know how to relax their bodies to be at the top of their game. Writers need to relax too, occasionally writing with the whole arm, always letting the words come out uncensored. After all, tense writing seems an awful lot like strangling your sound with anxiety when your're trying to sing.
At any rate, in the near future I may try to get some of my song ideas off the page. While wandering an antique store last Sunday I suddenly found myself playing a piano, which shocked me a little. I didn't realize until I'd already picked out a line or two what I was really doing, what it meant -- small pieces of my life are coming back to me one by one. If I just relax and forget about all that could be holding me back, things just happen.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Writing, Among Other Things
It's been a quiet week on the blog, but in a surprising plot twist I've actually been writing more than usual. A week ago I sat down and struggled through three-quarters of a page in my notebook before getting too tired. Two days after that, I filled four solid pages and suddenly my writing practice clicked back on course. A return to my requisite pen and paper exercise usually causes a dip in my blogging, probably because I'm so excited to be funneling my writing energy into that space again. Anyhow, this week has been full of sights and sounds, new pens and notebooks, and new and different faces -- all potential distractions I decided to turn into motivation.
I've heard that exposing very young children to new and different environments can speed their development, creating new connections in their brains and pushing them toward early childhood milestones. As an adult, this effect works its magic on my writing. I primarily think in words, so catch me staring off into space and my thoughts probably sound a great deal like the scribbles in my journal. Getting out of my rut and exposing myself to a variety of people and places pulls out phrases that wouldn't have surfaced at my desk -- the world becomes electric, my senses heightened, and small details really pop.
We spent this weekend entertaining my mom and sister, and having out-of-town visitors makes me view the city in a different light. Not only do I travel outside my usual radius to find the water blowing up in a fine mist off the harbor, a roomful of orchids at the conservatory frozen like dancers in the air -- I see my everyday surroundings through an outsider's eyes. My perspective on my neighbors setting up a picnic with their two-year-old in the backyard, that belligerent homeless guy in Fells Point Square, a stately brownstone, a boarded-up house, changes completely. I wonder what it all looks like to my 11-year-old sister who has experienced little outside our town in rural Pennsylvania. Or my mother, who has lived in the suburbs, the city, and the country, but most recently (and most steadfastly) the country.
Even seeing familiar friends but relocating to a balcony with stars overhead, the Baltimore skyline in the distance, and streetlights in the corners of our eyes left me enamored with the tiny details of life. I felt uniquely present in a significant moment, even though for all the world it looked like any other day.
Last night I was trying to capture this wide-eyed delight in the perceiving in my notebook before going to bed and realized all my favorite pens were on empty. Lately I've started running out my pens on a somewhat regular basis, which makes me feel good about the amount of writing I've been getting done. While replenishing my stock today I found the most adorable notebook and bought it despite two dangers: one, in the past I've had trouble writing in nice notebooks because I feel obligated to fill them with equally nice writing. Two, I often get antsy and move on from my current notebook long before it's full.
Today I decided that I'm feeling good enough about my writing practice not to set silly standards for it, and having a fun notebook to move into should motivate me to write a lot in order to fill my current one as quickly as possible. We'll see how it goes. I'd love to find myself in a race to the finish, filling page after page with unexpected thoughts. For now, I will show off some photos and make a note that my new notebook is made from 80% post-consumer recycled paper and 20% banana fiber. That's right, I'll be writing on banana leaves. Also, that makes it a "tree-less" notebook, which I think is pretty cool given the many eco-positive arguments for writing on electronic paper.
All in all, what a great week for writing. Next up: making headway toward a great writing space in my home, or maybe just enjoying a return to my old, good habits.
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