A Few More Quotes

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cabin dogwoodI had a number of email responses to my last post, in addition to the comments on the blog, so I thought I’d share another passage from this book, which I highly recommend.

The book is Writing as a Way of Healing, by Louise DeSalvo. (I inserted the Amazon link, but this book is widely available and still in print.) Throughout, DeSalvo draws from her studies of other writers, and this book is the source for my “sturdy ladder” quote in my recent blogpost at Writer Unboxed.

This book is an invitation for you to use writing as a way of healing, as a fixer, as a sturdy ladder, as picking and digging, as balm on a wound–or whatever metaphor describes how the process works for you. This book is an invitation to engage with your writing process over time in a way that allows you to discover strength, power, wisdom, depth, energy, creativity, soulfulness, and wholeness, to “cultivate those qualities of heart and spirit that are available to you in this very moment,” as Wayne Muller has phrased it. For, as he’s observed, “your life is not a problem to be solved but a gift to be opened.” 

This book is an invitation for you to use the simple act of writing as a way of reimagining who you are or remembering who you were. To use writing to discover and fulfill your deepest desire. To accept pain, fear, uncertainty, strife. But to find, too, a place of safety, security, serenity, and joyfulness. To claim your voice, to tell your story. And to share the gift of your work with others and, so, enrich and deepen our understanding of the human condition. (9)

 

What Have You Learned?

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pabu2Our dog suffers so on the Fourth of July, that it drains all the fun out of fireworks for me. A friend’s post on Facebook, too, made me reflect on how combat veterans with PTSD likely experience this holiday.

I have vivid memories of being a child running with a sparkler over the summer grass on our farm, and I remember, in my twenties, sitting on a lakeshore and watching a display that I have never forgotten (in fact, with a friend who was a Viet Nam veteran), but there’s such a difference between watching an hour-long, beautiful, choreographed display of fireworks, and what goes on each Fourth in my neighborhood, in unincorporated Edmonds. Booms and smoke and flashes for several days, and not just on the holiday itself. Being jolted awake at 1 a.m. by a huge blast last night — by the blast and by the dog going crazy — did not make me feel patriotic.

This morning, a lovely parade in our neighborhood, little kids on their bicycles, a whole menagerie of pets, flags, music; grilled chicken and potato salad this afternoon, watermelon — these are the parts of the holiday that can still make me happy.

Meanwhile, I’m rereading Louise DeSalvo’s amazing book, Writing as a Way of Healing, and this morning I came across this advice about integrating our creative work with life itself:

“…we must think about the world, ourselves and others, and the subject of our work. We must relate what we are learning in our work to our lives. We must be willing to use these insights to change our behavior if necessary.” (100)pabu beach

It strikes me that this is all about consciousness. It’s so easy for me to let my journal-writing be a kind of holding at bay of what I’m feeling — which is exhausting — rather than an embrace of what I am feeling. So these are the questions I can begin with , again and and again: What do you know? What have you learned? How has that shaped who you are? Are you letting what you know shape who you are becoming?

Or, to borrow from Nietzche, Do I have the courage to become who I am?

 

 

 

Consciousness Is the First Step

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penIt was quite a long time ago that I read Julie Morgenstern’s Organizing from the Inside Out (maybe it’s time to reread it). But what I still remember from that book was her advice to look around you (dear reader) and take note of what you have already organized. For me, that was the bathroom. Back then I was trudging off to the college every day; I had three little girls (ages 8, 8, and 2), and I desperately wanted to figure out a way to get some writing done. My house was very very low on the list of priorities. My make up and hair and teeth stuff, though? I knew exactly where each item was. I could open a drawer or reach up to the shelf, and grab what I needed. It was always there, always in the same place. Every day, just when I needed it.

Sadly, I did not go on to organize my entire house. What I did accomplish, was organizing my writing life.

I realized that my morning routine in the bathroom did not take oodles of time, and yet somehow I managed to fit it in every day. What if I could do that with my writing?

Whenever I hear a famous writer say that she doesn’t write every day, I think, Then when toothbrush-390310_960_720do you write? For me, it’s like brushing my teeth. Okay, so I have a bit of a focus problem (that’s what the fifteen minutes is about — dedicated, intentional focus for 15 + 15 + 15, etc. on the work), but sitting down with my journal and some poetry? That happens every day. If I am on my way somewhere — to visit Mom or to drive a daughter somewhere or whatever is needed — it might be only for 5 minutes. I might pack my journal with me and write on the ferry to Kingston, or parked alongside the road somewhere. But every day, the writing happens. It begins with my journal, and it builds from there.

As I understand Morgenstern’s advice, the first step to making a change is to build some awareness of your ability to achieve your goal. Awareness is so much better than despair. I practice this with my girls, too. When I focus on how messy they are (!) or my almost-23-year-olds’ seeming inability to emancipate from us, I get discouraged. When I remember to make small good choices, just like when they were little girls, and to catch them doing something right — and point that out to them — it helps.

Noticing what is working in my writing life helps, too. Two clean pages yesterday. A blog post today.

Consciousness is the first step.

 

 

How to Set Goals

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sundialI am a failure at meeting big goals.

This year I tried to game the system — my personal system, I mean. I signed up for on-line goal setting challenges. I read books about setting goals. I wrote down all of my goals. I opened an Evernote account and wrote all of my goals there. I downloaded Evernote onto my phone.

Finish current novel. Return to previous “new” novel and finish that, too — by July! Put together a new poetry manuscript. Submit 50 sets of poems for publication. Submit all short stories. Lose ten (more) pounds. Declutter house. Submit novel to ten contests. Attend PNWA conference in July. Send novel to 30 new agents.

After setting it up, I never opened my Evernote file again. I did not finish the work I had planned for either of the novels. I did not submit any poems or stories. I entered one novel contest and didn’t even get a reply, let alone a place. (Scratch “attend conference” off list.)

Not long ago I confided in my friend Priscilla Long that it isn’t working. What do you want? She asked me. I want to make progress, I said. Specifically? she prodded. Okay, I hemmed and hawed a little, then answered, I want to write for four to six hours a day.

You can’t work for four or six hours, Priscilla said. You can only work for fifteen minutes. 

Oh, I said.

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“Be Gentle with Yourself”

It’s so irritating to realize (at my advanced age!), that this lesson, which I have already learned and more than once, must be circled back to and learned again.

It’s the wisdom of small steps. It’s the wisdom of accumulated effort. I don’t know if it’s true for everyone, or if Priscilla, having gone through this with me numerous times before, just knows that it’s true for me. But I have to start with fifteen minutes. I have to turn over my quarter-hour glass, or set my phone timer, or go to  http://e.ggtimer.com/ and set that. Then, I focus. I can focus, intensely, for fifteen minutes. Frequently (usually) I end up working for fifteen minutes 2 or 3 times in a row. Frequently (usually) I end up working for a few hours. But it starts with fifteen minutes.

I am a genius at meeting very small goals.