Category Archives: Personal

One and A Half Yards of Fleece

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This past weekend I experienced a rare and somewhat bewildering burst of inspiration. If this burst had had anything to do with writing, I might feel surer about it, excited to run with it. Because isn’t that where I want to direct my creativity? To my manuscripts in revision and to the new ideas swirling in my head? Instead, here are the outcomes of this inspired rampage:

One fleece sweatshirt.Two fleece hats. One cardboard dinosaur head. One dinosaur tail. One pair very baggy pants with a drawstring. One pair mittens. A host of cloth sandwich bags.

That’s right. I crafted.

All weekend, basically. I sewed and cut and measured and sewed again. I glued and taped. I cursed my inability to plan ahead and started over. It began with my son’s Halloween costume. (Obviously, he’s being a T-Rex). It ended with a headband for myself made with scrap fleece. Oh, and I finally hemmed those pants that were dragging in the mud.

What makes this all so monumental is that I don’t craft. I don’t sew. I don’t—and didn’t—use patterns. Yet somehow I managed to CREATE all these things from scratch.

In two words: LOVED IT.

I don’t really *make* that many things. Things you can hold. Every once in a while I experiment with something in the kitchen. But by now I’ve chosen my easy-to-bake artisan breads, so there’s not that much enjoyment from the experimentation (oh, but the eating…). Writing itself is a drawn out, abstract process. I probably won’t feel complete in the way I do now until a book is published, in my hands, being held in the same way I can hold the mittens I just sewed.

Creating tangible things is such an important process for me, but one I haven’t really embraced for a long time. I used to paint, but my paints and brushes have been in some kind of cryogenic deep freeze since I started writing. I don’t know if I’ll take them out, or just keep on this sewing kick. But the pride I felt at having made something concrete was so overwhelming it made me realize I wasn’t meeting all of my creative needs. I’m predicting that attending to both the abstract and non-abstract sides of my artistic self will better serve my writing, though I’m not precisely sure how to detect or measure that influence.

What have you discovered about different forms of the creative process? Do you experiment with both abstract and tangible forms of creation? What have you made with fabric scraps lately?

(Also, email me if you want those bread recipes. The dino costume you can figure out on your own like I did…)

To Workshop or Not to Workshop? Heck Yeah!

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I had the chance last Saturday to participate in ENCORE, held by the Northeast Region of SCBWI. They hold their annual conference every May, as well as a workshop day in October with the four highest rated workshops from the conference. Given the fact that the workshops looked great, the price couldn’t be beat, and it meant a Saturday to myself, I jumped at the chance.

The day was the perfect balance of lecture and writing exercises. Here’s what the agenda looked like:

  • Do Your Kid Characters Sound Authentic? (Karen Day)
  • Saying Stuff Good: A Workshop about Strengthening Your Writing with the Effective Use of Voice (Mark Peter Hughes)
  • Keeping It Campy: Writing Camp for Grownups (Jo Knowles and Cindy Faughnan)
  • Dialogue: Crafting Conversation in Fiction for Young Readers (Mitali Perkins)

For each workshop, the speaker took us through the concept in a fresh way, gave us specific examples to refer to, and led us through exercises to apply our learnings immediately. Several challenges forced us to work together with our fellow participants, so no playing wallflower for anyone. I left with a journal full of books and blogs to read, new contacts, and ideas for tackling the next revision on my current novel. I even have some new ideas for my next two novels.

To Sally Riley and everyone else who worked to put together the ENCORE program, I say Bravo! It was well worth the 2-1/2 hour drive for me each way.

For me, the best judge of a workshop or conference is whether I learn something that forces me to look at my writing in a different way. I have never considered myself a poet (well, since high school, anyway). Perhaps I get caught up in the temptation to rhyme. Or as Joanna put it, starting poetry from a blank page is daunting. One of the exercises from the Writing Camp session was all about writing a poem. But we had a construct to work with. Here’s the exercise:

Write your phone number down the page, one number for each line. Now write a poem about something or someone you love. The number on each line tells you EXACTLY how many words you can use (no more, no less). A zero is a wild card.

Give it a try- even those of you who don’t consider yourself a writer! If you are willing to share, please post your poem in the comments. We’d love to see them!

Here’s how mine turned out:

I love…

Her sweet little face

beaming at me

her little hands spreading across my back

kissing my nose.

She smells of syrup and playdough and soap

and childhood.

She giggles, crinkling her nose.

I’m somehow a funny Mommy today to my precious

Elizabeth.

Thanks to Jo Knowles and Cindy Faughnan for the exercise (and the inspiration- it may be just me, but I think my poem isn’t half bad. For a non-poet, that is.) To check out more writing prompts, Jo has tons on her website here.

Best wishes for a creative week, whatever your area of interest!

Hanging On To Autumn

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Here in the Northeast U.S., we are fully enrobed in autumn. The leaves have switched their warm green summer clothes for cool sweaters of yellow, brown, orange, and red (yes, I like to think of the leaves wearing sweaters, like I am). When taking my morning run or walking my son to the bus, I am taken with how truly beautiful the trees look. Mother Nature puts on quite a show.

There is a crispness that comes with autumn: leaves crunching under your feet; the crunch of a firm, ripe apple; the pop and slide noise a knife makes as you carve your jack-o-lantern. There is plenty yet to do outside. We just need to wear coats and hats.

As we play outside or take a walk, I yearn to hold on to this in-between time. It is no longer the warm, long days of summer. And winter has not yet arrived. Yes, my husband is mourning now that the pool is closed and it is dark soon after he gets home from work. This is all the more reason to hang on to every precious moment of this transition time. Soon, we will be inside, cozy in front of the woodstove and under blankets. Going outside will take more than just throwing on a jacket and a pair of shoes.

Don’t get me wrong. I like many parts of winter too. I especially enjoy reconnecting with family and friends over the holidays. But I am in no rush.

While spring is a time of renewal and rebirth, autumn is a time for me of pause and introspection. Where am I at? Did I get where I wanted to be this year? Or am I on a completely different path? What else do I want to accomplish this year? What do I want to make sure not to miss?

The bustle of day to day life seems to pick up as soon as September begins. Just look at the stores: school supplies are displayed in July, Halloween costumes are up in September, and some of my stores even have Christmas decorations on the shelves already (By the way, isn’t Thanksgiving in their somewhere? Sigh. Another topic for another post.) If you take all of the school and extra-curricular activities, and add in this pressure to rush towards the next big thing, you could feel overwhelmed. Panicked. Even stressed.

But Mother Nature has a built-in de-stressor. Go outside. Look to the trees and the sky. Take a deep breath. Listen to the wind. Feel the sun on your face. Watch your children jump in the leaves, or play flashlight tag at twilight. It’s very hard to stay stressed when you are open to the wonder.

What are your favorite things to do or experience in autumn? Please share.

Dear Me…

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On Simple Mom last week, Tsh Oxenreider wrote a letter to her 15-year-old self. It inspired me to write a letter to my 17-year-old self.

Hi 17-year old self! It’s Me, your 39-year-old self.

I know you don’t sleep much these days. That’s okay — that will come in handy in college. You’re really looking forward to college. The good news is, it’s everything you’re hoping for and more. Make the most of your time there: learn, play, make mistakes (small ones, please) and begin to figure out who you want to be.

You notice I said “begin.” Trying to figure out who you want to be is not only an ongoing (and lifelong) process, but what you are searching for will change. Parts of you that you weren’t even thinking about (nurturer, wife, mother) come out to surprise you later.

Through this last year of high school (ugh), you will doubt yourself. Don’t let those doubts change who you are inside. Your hard work, persistence, maturity, and values will pay off. There will be times when you are tempted to compromise your values. Don’t. Sticking to what you believe in will keep you on the right path, and will help you sleep at night.

I’m not going to tell you how things turn out 22 years later, or that everything goes easily. However, in many ways, our life has far exceeded our expectations.

By the way, that boyfriend you didn’t think you could live without? You can and will. And that best friend who supports you no matter what, still does.

Now go get some sleep, so you can take on whatever adventures tomorrow brings.

Love,

Me

To MFA or not to MFA

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How many of you have considered this question?

Graduate school has been circling the depths of my mind for close to thirteen years. Back then, I was trying to decide between studying geology or entomology. What a different ride it would have been had I chosen either of those subjects. But I didn’t, nor did I choose to go to divinity school or get my teaching certificate a few years later. No doubt, any of those paths would have proven exciting, inspiring, and enriching, but it’s water under the bridge now.

After two years of serious writing, graduate school has surfaced again. Should I get an MFA in writing? Specifically, writing for children and young adults?

So I’ve asked myself what I would get out of an MFA, and if I could get those same skills through a less expensive route. Probably the most important aspect of an MFA program – for me anyway – is the mentorship. My critique group (do we need a fancy name?) is an invaluable resource to me, and in no way am I going to let that go. But having a mentor whose sole purpose (among having many other sole purposes!) is to teach me the craft of writing sounds amazing. Reading and analyzing the books I’m already reading to improve my understanding of what makes a good story – yea! And the residencies – ten full days of workshops and readings followed by painfully short nights – well, they sound great, too. At least, they do right now…

Well, as of 10:13 this morning, I officially put my name in. Hence the delay in this post – I spent the better part of this past week writing and rewriting my personal and critical essays. Now they’re off. And of course, now I have to get in.

What’s been your experience with To MFA or Not to MFA? Why or why not? After deciding, yes or no, what’s your opinion now?

 

Ah, the Internet

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Do you remember when there was no Internet?

Part of me enjoys asking that kind of question. Sure, it dates me. It dates all of us, depending on how you answer it. And at the risk of sounding romantic, I miss that simple world, before telnet (first user group and email I used), before Netscape (my first browser), and certainly before Google (my current search engine).

I started writing two years ago, well after our computer became an electronic family member.  And I’ve been curious lately as to how different the process of writing, and finding an agent, and generally trying to make a living out of this art would be if I had started this ten years ago.

I couldn’t just pop over to Wikipedia and check on some fact about 17th century Suriname nor could I learn of new agents and their interests so promptly. Often times I am thankful that this abstract web of connections exists—it can be very helpful.

But I wonder:

Does the Internet suck my energy?

Many writers could no doubt claim the Internet or something that they read online to be the inspiration for their amazing debut novel coming next fall.  Accomplished writers might say the same for the success of their 15th manuscript. But what is the flip side to having something amounting to an edgeless universe as a distraction?

I admit that when I’m writing I will occasionally (wink, wink) check email or Facebook or YouTube or whatever, really. Is that better than staring at the point where the wall hits the ceiling in search of inspiration? I don’t think so. More often than not, it pulls me away from my characters and their stories. But I haven’t found a way yet to work around this. Anyone have a typewriter they can lend me?

Have you been a writer since the Internet became ubiquitous? How did that shift affect your writing and career? Do you have tips on how to effectively turn off access to this kind of distraction?

The Journey

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As a stay-at-home mom who moonlights as a writer, I’ve experimented with various ways to make time to write. I’ve managed over two years to write three and a half novel-length manuscripts and three picture books. When I look at it that way, I have to say I’m proud. But here’s the disclaimer, in the form of a question:

How was the journey?

I’m sure you’ve heard the quip “It’s not the journey—it’s the destination.” And I’m guessing you’ll agree that when you’re looking for a paycheck, the destination becomes a little more important. Though I’ve yet to receive compensation for anything I’ve written, I’m right there with you.

But I’ve had a couple of experiences where the journey was so rocky I just about stopped writing altogether. A few months back, I spread myself too thin by, among other things, working on three manuscripts at once—two in revision and one first draft. I was extremely excited about each project, but my head was spinning with all the plot strands to rework, characters to make more dimensional, and endings to tighten up (or write at all). I managed to make myself physically sick.

Last June I started to work on a fourth manuscript, hoping to complete it with Camp NaNoWriMo (see previous post). The nausea picked up again, and I did not want a repeat attack. Writing—my creative outlet that I enjoy and crave—would have to lay low for a while. I just completed that manuscript, but barely.

Summer can feel over the top—there are way too many hikes to do, family trips to take, and honey-do-lists to complete.  So I’ve learned that it might not be the best time for me to write. Winter, when I can hunker down, turn inward, and actually have “work “ days, may just be a better time. This winter, I’m going to pace myself, work on one manuscript at a time, and generally try to make choices that don’t result in me screaming for more time to write or send me to bed to calm my frenetic mind. I do find it ironic that shorter days might be a more effective and rewarding time to write.

How do you make time to write? What pitfalls have you faced when working on—and balancing—multiple projects? Is there a time of year that suits your creative self?

Happy Birthday!

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Please bear with me as I depart from my usual topics to wish my mother a very Happy Birthday!

Photo by Katie Cullinan

Yesterday was a significant birthday for my Mom (I’ll do the gracious thing here, and not mention which one), and we celebrated in style. I sprung for some whole lobsters, along with salt potatoes, local corn on the cob, and rolls. It reminds me of clambakes we used to have every summer, with the lobsters sitting in for the clams this time.

It was yummy. More importantly, we were all together. My Mom and Dad made the four hour trip to my house in the morning, and my brother surprised us by driving down from Massachusetts.

For every birthday, Christmas, and Mother’s Day, all my Mom has ever asked for is “good kids.” That has been extended to “good kids and grandkids.” As you can imagine, that is very difficult to shop for (and potentially hard to deliver when you are a child).

I watched my Mom survey the many pots of cooking food, warm conversation, and her family all around her. And she got a little teary. At that moment, I realized that it wasn’t “good kids” she really wanted. What really makes her happy is being with her family. Silliness, chaos, weirdness and all. For this birthday, we were able to deliver.

Happy Birthday, Mom. We love you very much. Best wishes for many more healthy, happy birthdays!