Sing, baby, sing

We've been discussing "voice" in my editing class at KSU, and how it is the editor's responsibility to make sure that the editing stays true to it. But what is voice? It seems to me to be one of those "I know it when I see it" things--like pornography.

There are some books that I just "get." And I think it's because I can really hear their voice. Even if that voice isn't like mine, there is something that gives a cohesive whole to their work. For instance, right now, I'm reading Shakespeare Wars: Clashing Scholars, Public Fiascos and Palace Coups. It's a fun read, even if, when seen in public reading it, you might as well be wearing a sign that says "Literature Geek. Will work for Reads." The author has a really strong voice--definite sentence structure, word choice, the way he quotes people he has interviewed. In fact, although I haven't read the entire book yet, the only complaint I have with the book is the fact that his voice could have used some editorial-reining-in. He loves to write with sentence fragments. And I'm o.k. with that. Really. But sometimes he does it so much that you have no idea what the subject is any more. Where's that antecedent? Really, where?

When I received my first paper back in my editing class, the major comment that my professor wrote was "I would have liked to see more of YOU in the paper," which was really funny, because I'm in a class, in a degree program. When I was writing it I was worried that I was writing it like a feature story, that maybe it should have been more academic. And we all know that you are supposed hide yourself as the author when you are writing academically. All that "research was performed" etc. When I'm forced to write academically, I'm always pushing to just say "I read." "I think."

Oh, for a happy medium.

Time to Celebrate

I realized lately that I use this blog to whine about mental blocks to my creative efforts and I rarely use it to celebrate when I have been able to climb over those mental blocks. So today, I am going to use my blog to celebrate, and also to muse about why I don't do that more often.

Lately, I have had several successes. I have finished several assigned articles for a magazine. I have conducted an interview with the editor-in-chief of an academic journal and written a paper on that information. I feel really good about that paper, too. I've gotten my resume together too, and actually submitted it for a job! (Thanks for the help, Jessica.)

My friend Lou often tells me that I am incredibly self-critical. I know I am. And I think that there is a big connection between that self-criticism and those mental blocks that interfere with my creativity.

Luckily, I have been able lately to feel good about my work/accomplish my work/do more work.

How do I keep the flow coming? That is a trick to figure out.

The 2,996 Project, In honor of Lt. Michael Quilty

So I'm sitting here in a public restaurant and I'm crying.

I am attempting to find the appropriate words to honor Lt. Michael Quilty, a New York City firefighter who died 5 years ago today, on the day that changed the world.

Michael Thomas Quilty was a 20 year and 6 day veteran of the NY City Fire Department. Most of his career had been spent with Engine 282, and Ladder 148 in Brooklyn. He had been promoted to lieutenant in 1999, and served wherever he was needed. He had spent only a year at Ladder 11 when he died at the World Trade Center.

I am sending my prayers to God and my thoughts and best wishes to his family, wife Susan, son Daniel and daughter Kerry.

Since its inception in 1999, the Uniformed Fire Officers Association (UFOA) has awarded fifty-seven (57) scholarships to the children of their fallen brothers. The scholarship award is $4,000 for the first year of school followed by $2,000 for the remaining 3 years of undergraduate study for a total scholarship of $10,000. Daniel Quilty was awarded a scholarship in 2004/2005, and Kerry was just awarded one. I'm so sorry that you were eligible for the scholarship, but I feel sure that your dad would have been proud.

Mike, as he was known, was an avid sportsman. He scuba-dived with his son Daniel and coached his daughter Kerry's soccer team. He was a life-long resident of Staten Island and a member of St. Teresa's Roman Catholic Church, Castleton Corners, Staten Island, New York. You can read more about his life here.

I lack the eloquence to do justice to Lt. Quilty. I hope I honor him with what I've attempted to do here.

Rory Stewart

I tried to post yesterday, but as I the server seemed to go down just as I hit "post" and all those beautiful words went "bye-bye." Oh well. I was probably gushing anyway. I had started with the words "I have a new hero."

I was flipping channels yesterday when I ran across Rory Stewart speaking about his new book on CSpan2/Book TV. The Places in Between is the story of his 600 mile walk across Afghanistan.

I find the fact that he has walked across Afghanistan fascinating enough, but combine that with the fact that he is a British diplomat and has had postings in both Kosovo and Iraq, and more importantly, is one of the most cogent speakers on the Iraqi situation that I have ever heard speak, and I tell you, I think he's one of the most admirable people that I've run across in a long time.

Granted, I've not actually read his book (yet). He may be a crackpot. But he really didn't seem that way when speaking. I admire someone who can operate in diplomatic circles, then shuck his suit and tie and go adventuring.

To me, it seems that he has both intelligence and a creative spirit. And, having written two books, he obviously has good butt-time skills. I admire that too.

(P.S. For those who don't know the "butt-time" reference, I picked it up from Patricia Sprinkle, a Georgia mystery novelist. She says the one most important skill that writers need it the ability to do "butt-time"--the ability to keep your bottom in the chair long enough to get your book written. It's a skill I admire, because it doesn't come easily to me.)

Anxiety conquered!

All right, not conquered. Perhaps it's best if I say I slithered around it. I had two articles assigned, and I was having the hebie-jeebies about completing them, as I do all my work. I finally managed to cope with the anxiety that writing (or any creative activity that I care about) produces and get the articles written and submitted.

In the book The Courage to Write, Ralph Keyes relates the story of the writer who has his butler lock him in his office without any clothes. I sure wish I was rich enough to have a butler to do the same for me.

I've recently attempted to put a stop to using housekeeping as one way of procrastinating about writing. I think it's backfiring though. My house desperately needs cleaning!

From the Sahara to White Water

I am privileged.

I am probably the least wealthy person in my social circle, but I am wealthy beyond measure.

I have enough food to eat, safe drinking water, a roof over my head. I have abundant clothing, a car to drive.

I have the brains and the working body to make sure this continues.

I live in a society, in a country, that encourages me to live the life of my dreams, to work at something I love, and to change any of the parts of my life that I don't like.

I am privileged.

I spent six weeks this summer living in a society where things were different. Even though I was privileged enough to live with a nice, middle class family, I could look around me and realize that some important things were not the same.

I drank bottled water all the time I was in Tunisia, trying to avoid tummy troubles (unsuccessfully, but that's another story). My Tunisian family drinks rainwater. They have a big cistern to capture what little rain falls. And if they run out of rain water, they drink bottled water too. The city's water pipes are full of lead.

Bread is cheap there. I think it is subsidized by the government. Everyone buys a fresh loaf of bread every day. But cars are incredibly expensive, since they all were imported. Gasoline is expensive too. (They call it petrol. Fuel for cars is petrol, gas means natural gas.) The first oil deposits ever found in Tunisia were found earlier this year. They never have had the oil industry that both Algeria and Libya have (they had never discovered oil there before, although they have looked for a long time), so fuel has always been expensive there. In fact, so expensive that people smuggle it in from Libya and sell it around the neighborhood. Even though I complain about fuel costs here, it doesn't eat up the percentage of my income that it would if I were making a Tunisian salary.

And here in the U.S., I am able to go back to school and develop new skills (or work on ones that I already have). I am able to change and adapt as I care to. In Tunisia, they aren't able to do that. The opportunities just aren't there. I met a woman--an electrical engineer--who had been looking for a job for six years. Crazy. And sad.

And then, this past weekend, I went white water rafting. I realized how amazing that I went from spending the weekend in the Sahara Desert to being immersed in gallons upon gallons of water all in one summer. I realized how privileged that makes me.

And, of course, it filled me with all sorts of sensory experiences that I can use in my writing. It sparked so many story ideas. What an amazing weekend.

How privileged am I?

Discipline, still

O.k., so you might be getting tired of the subject of discipline, when this blog is supposed to be about creativity.

But right now, of course, I am sort of stuck on the topic of how discipline affects creativity. Or, in my case, how the lack of discipline is adversely affecting my creative output...it's been nil.

I am wondering, if, instead of trying to adopt new habits one at a time--primarily, turning off the television and setting aside a set time to write--if I should try to make the grand gesture and adopt a new life-style all at one time. Can I cut out television, write the Great American Young Adult Novel, diet and exercise, all at the same time?

In a way, I think it might be easier. Doesn't one bad habit just feed another? Don't I overeat in front of the television? Don't I use television as a distraction, and get so distracted that I don't write? And if I'm watching one more decorating show, I'm not exercising to an exercise tape, am I?

How did I come to this state of television taking over my life? I remember when I was a child, and going to gymnastics practice all the time, I didn't watch the television shows that all my friends were watching. John Travolta on "Welcome Back Kotter?" Saw maybe two episodes in my life. I watched the Fonz on "Happy Days" several times--it came on right as I got home from gymnastics practice. I'd lay on the couch in front of the tv, watch that one show then go to bed.

Now, it's a loud, constant companion.

What are we doing to our children, sitting them in front of the television and computers all day. Will they be able to cope with quiet? Can they converse with friends? What will parents do when they can't take their computer game modules on long plane rides? I know if I've developed this bad habit as an adult, then it is worse for children who have had television as their babysitter all their lives.

Discipline, cont'd

My friend Jess (see comment on July 18 blog post) said that energy and structure are needed for discipline. I concur. But then, what supports energy and structure? Discipline.

It's a catch-22. It's an Escher drawing.

So I 'm trying to take the sting out of this area of my life by saying that discipline is just the development of good habits.

And current popular wisdom says that you can develop a new habit within 21 days.

Oh, the first 21 days will be hard, I understand. But after that, then you have the habit and it's easier to stick with whatever you are trying to do. (I usually read this advice in connection with developing the habit to exercise.)

I am also contemplating the advice to people who are trying to train their dogs: Saying "No" doesn't work. You are supposed to give a dog something else to do, if your dog is doing what you don't want him to do. Say "sit," instead of telling him "no," when he's jumping up on someone, for instance.

So, can we use these 2 pieces of advice to become more disciplined?

If, instead of telling myself "no, I shouldn't be doing this" when I turn on the television, can I substitue calling a friend up, or cooking an elaborate meal, or -egads!- perhaps, WRITING?

Or instead of eating bags of chips mindlessly, can I substitute a stretching routine?

And can I try this for the next 21 days?

Are you undisciplined? Have you figured out what's stopping you? And do you have any hints or techniques for overcoming being undisciplined? Please share.

Discipline

I've been thinking lately about discipline and how it affects creativity.

Did you grown up with "romantic" notions about "artistic types" whose creativity flourished in some unknown way? Just because they were "touched by the muse?"

If you are like me, you did.

And like me, you might have been told that "no one can make a living as a writer." That writers and, painters lived in garrets and starved. I knew that artists lived in garrets long before I knew what a garret was. And for those who might not know, I'll save you from having to look it up. It's an attic.

Well, I was never given any idea that artists and writers had discipline at all.

But as we all know, writers and artists have to have discipline in order to be able to produce. Even rock and rollers have to have discipline to write songs, then get into the studio and record.

No, it might not be a 9 to 5 job that we've chosen. We might not be able to leave our desks and "leave it at the office," but we still need discipline.

So, if, like me, you haven't been exceedingly disciplined in your chosen creative field, how do you solve that problem?

Writing and Voice

I was talking to my friend Jessica yesterday, and we were talking about the fact that sometimes the only creative writing we do is blogging. It's not always enough, but at least it is something. She has two blogs: The Other Invisible and A Woman Visible

Do you think she's got a thing about visibility? Uh, yeah.

She's recently been blogging about writing and voice. When I read her words, I can absolutely hear her voice in my head. When I read my friend Chad's blog, I hear his voice in my head! Sometimes, I don't "get" blogs, if they don't have a real definitive voice.

I wonder if I have a "voice" here? I don't really think I've developed one, for blogging at least, because this blog is used for the "serious topic" of creativity. And as Jess says, voice changes depending on what one is writing.

I do know that sometimes I have to try hard to make my blog posts readable. I have a tendency to write in the longest sentences known to mankind. I am always re-writing things, even blog posts, in order to do away with dependent clauses. No, I do not write run-on sentences. Grammatically, my sentences are very well structured. But I can have dependent clauses within other dependent clauses! (And yes, you can start a sentence with the word "but." "But" is a coordinating conjuction, not a subordinating conjunction. Don't be old-fashioned! And yes, you can start a sentence with "and.")

But is this voice? Voice has to do with grammar and sentence structure, but also with point of view. Have I really developed a point of view, particularly on the subject of creativity? I suppose the reason that I blog about creativity is because I want to develop a point of view on the subject. I use my blog to do so. It's a damn sight cheaper than discussing the subject with a therapist!

Here's a shout-out to two of my Tunisian friends, Rami and Ahmed. And here is their picture, for the viewing pleasure of the females in my audience. I'll include pictures of my Tunisian sisters within the next post or two, for the viewing pleasure of the males in my audience.

Resting or decaying?

When does "taking a break" turn into "acting like a vegetable?"

Since I've come home from Tunisia, I've done not much of anything--except watch TV. In Tunisia, I watched TV maybe twice. I thought I had broken myself of the habit. But since I have been home, I have fallen back into my routine of using it as company. It's really bad, boring company, but, just like real, live, human company, I end up paying attention to it. Of course, it is rude to ignore human company, even if they are boring. But TV, I can turn off. I know that it just sucks the life out of me and my creativity.

In Finding Flow, which I am browsing through once again, now that I'm back from Tunisia, Csikszentmihalyi writes

...a simple way of improving the quality of life is to take ownership of one's actions. A great deal of what we do (over two-thirds, on the average) are things we feel we have to do, or we do because there isn't anything else we feel like doing. ... Under these conditions we are likely to feel that our psychic energy is wasted.

Well, I know that TV wastes my psychic energy. So, I have just turned it off. And I plan to keep it off, not using it as company. Heck, I have company. I have great friends here in Georgia, whom I missed while I was away. And I have things I want and need to do.

I want to write more--my novel, travel articles, essays. I want to publish.

I want to speak more--I want achieve my CTM in Toastmasters (I know that they changed the designation, but I don't like the CC tag.) I want to become a professional speaker and give seminars on creativity.

I want to teach. I want teach both writing and speaking, helping people develop two very basic skills that get buried in their high school curricula, but which turn out to be so important in everyday lives.

These three items at the top of my to-do list are all creative, but they take psychic energy. And I think that psychic muscles are just like physical muscles. They need to be exercised daily, or they will atrophy. I exercised my psychic muscles every day when I was in Tunisia--I was writing a lot, I was fully engaged with life--seeing new things, making new friends. But now that I'm home, I'm falling back into some of the bad habits I had. I think a lot of people indulge in bad habits at home. They sit on the couch and pig out. They aren't polite to their family members. They act like slobs.

The antidote, I believe, is to pay attention--to give psychic energy to the things that are important, not to the blasted, veggie-matic thing called TV.

12x12

I'm taking part in Chad Darnell's "12x12."

The readers of his blog post 12 pictures taken on the 12th of each month. Since I finally bought a digital camera, I am finally able to participate, although I couldn't post my photos from Tunisia. I had such trouble with the French-Arabic keyboard that I was using, plus, I wasn't able to change the computer's language from French to English. I couldn't wrestle with Blogger in French. I admitted defeat.

I took the pictures on the 12th of June, even though I'm not posting until June 22! All photos were taken in Sfax, Tunisia. Just in case you don't know, Tunisia is squeezed in between Algeria and Libya in North Africa. It's an Arabic country on the Mediterranean coast. I went swimming in the Mediterranean!

This is the link to my Snapfish album. You may have to create a Snapfish account to view my album, but it is free, and has turned out to be useful for me.

Here is a preview of my day: This is my hand with still-drying harcouse painted on it. Tunisian women get henna and/or harcouse for special occasions and my host family wanted me to do it before I left. 10 days later, the faint outlines are still on my hands.

maximum playdate

i wish i could post pictures right now but its all i can do to publish a post from tunisia

please excuse the lack of punctuation at the moment but i am using a tunisian keyboard
whiich means that the keys are in the position where you would find thm on a french keyboard but there are also arabic characters on the keyboard

if you thought control shift was complicated then how about alt gr

i have just given up punctuating

i go the medina nearly everyday
cell phones computers the internet and medinas
what a world

julia cameron recommends playdates
this is the ultimate playdate
i am definitely refilling the well

OOT

When one is trying to get ready to leave the country for six weeks, one is apt to miss a blog post or two.

I don't really expect to be blogging for the next six weeks, since I am going to Tunisia for a study abroad program. I am taking writing classes and, as Julia Cameron calls it, "refilling the well." One long play date I'm giving myself!

Wish bon chance and bon voyage! I hope to blog once or twice while I'm there, but I'm not counting on finding a computer.

Next step

So, now that my semester is over, what do I do?

Oh, I know that I'll be on a plane to Tunisia on Saturday, where I am going to take a travel writing class, a technical writing class, and Arabic.

I'm really looking forward to the travel writing class. I think I will tolerate the technical writing class, and the Arabic class is just down right necessary, since I speak neither Arabic nor French, and I am going to be spending six weeks there. The plan to learn a little Arabic and a little harmonica before I left for Tunisia never really panned out, with so many other things on my plate this semester. Will I look stupid carrying a harmonica I can't play all the way to Tunisia? It's small. I think I'll just tuck it away in a corner of my suitcase....

So, to keep in the writing habit, I am a) going to blog daily and b) return to the young adult romance novel that I'm working on...that I have been working on for a long time now.

I've gotten some good feedback on what I've written so far, but I got stuck. Not just because I got so intensely wrapped up in classwork and grading, but I got stuck because I haven't done enough scene planning. So I'm going to take that page out of Elizabeth George's book and work harder on planning the scenes that need to be written. They are in my brain, but I haven't pinned them down yet.

Before I leave you tonight, I want to leave you with words from Czikszentmihalyi's Finding Flow:

"The world is absolutely full of interesting things to do. Only lack of imagination, or lack of energy, stand in the way."

Done!

Wow. This semester is finally over. I've turned in all the work that is due...except, that is, my website that I've worked on with Jess. It's not due until Thursday, but I it's finished. We just have to give it to our professor.

My last assignment was a research proposal for my literacy studies class. I don't think I succeeded at doing the assignment. I don't think I ever got my brain wrapped around the assignment. But I don't care anymore!!!! I'm finished, like it or not.

My next adventure is to Tunisia, where I'm doing a study abroad program. I really don't think I'll be able to blog there every day, but since I'm taking two writing classes there, I think I'll stay on track with the writing every day.

I leave on Saturday. Mucho to do before then.

Collaboration

I had a wonderful experience earlier today.

I met with two phenomenal women to work on a project together.

I don't always like working in collaboration with other people. In fact, most of my life I hated "group projects." These two women, however, are those rare sorts with whom I am compatible in strength of personality and in interests.

Elaine is the "critique partner" whom I hooked up with through Georgia Romance Writers. Her women's fiction novel is coming along nicely. She's just missing two chapters at this point, before she can declare it finished...well, finished except for a re-write and polish. At the moment, due to the fact that I haven't been actually working on my novel--I've been concentrating on school related writing--I'm acting as her sounding board and cheerleader. She's my cheerleader too.

Jessica is my partner for a school project. When we got hooked up due to the fact that we both volunteered to redesign a particular website, I didn't know her very well. However, we've hit it off. We believe it's because we're both pretty out-going and opinionated.

Jessica owns her own copy of Dreamweaver, I don't, so we've gotten together outside of class to huddle over her computer. Elaine is a web writer/designer and she met up with us to help us with some tricky bits--like moving a paragraph up the page. We tried for an hour last Thursday, and just couldn't fix it. Of course, once Elaine showed us what we were doing wrong, duh! It turned out to be a simple fix, but we are both new using Dreamweaver and just hadn't been able to figure it out.

So here's a shout-out to both these phenomenal women. Thanks to you both for being great creative partners.







Oh, we were discussing Barbara Winter's book, Making a Living Without a Job. It's one of my favorite books. I'll discuss more about it later.

Where creativity lies

Even after swearing to myself that I would blog everyday, I missed yesterday. Missing blogging=missing writing. Oh, I did do something constructive, I've begun reading my book on travel writing, which is a class that I'll be taking during my study abroad trip to Tunisia. So it wasn't a completely wasted day. But I didn't get any writing done.

It was such a weird day though. I overslept, waking up at 10:30 in the morning. I sleep in that late about once a year. Once I did, I remained off schedule and felt weird the rest of the day.

Part of feeling weird the rest of the day had something to do with the fact that I've been sick with an earache. Earache=pain+dizziness. Pain is one thing. Not being able to stand up because I'm dizzy is another thing altogether. It's been going on for almost 2 weeks now. Mostly I'm better. Thank goodness, because I've got a heck of a plane ride coming up in a week. But my ear still feels weird--like I have a finger stuck in my ear pushing on my eardrum. I don't know how much more decongestant I can take and remain on planet Earth.

This blog entry will actually have to be about the writing I did day before yesterday.

I felt that day was very successful.

I got lots of pages done, completing my memoir and an exercise or two that I had to turn in for memoir class.

The scene in my memoir that I mentioned previously--the one that was too much summary and not up-close-and-personal enough--I never fixed to my satisfaction. The moment about which I was trying to write was so personal, and, let's face it, so naked (I'm not speaking figuratively here), that it was a little bit more than I could write for review by a teacher. Interesting that I think that I could write it for publication (faceless masses) but not for someone I see in person.

Just like I don't think I could post that memoir here, since my sister could possibly read it and there are moments in there I wouldn't care to share with her. (It's not about you, Beth, but let's just say I mention "the McMillan tummy.")

However, I'd like to share the following with everyone, because of what happened during the writing. I was attempting a writing exercise requesting me to write with sensory details about a place that I knew well. During the writing, I was so "into it." For me, "into it" means that I get a sensation of my brain sinking down, so that I feel like somewhere in my head, I'm wrapped in a protective blanket. Everything around me, the sounds, the smells, the motion, receded. I lived once again in the place that I was writing about, which is the living room of my stepmother's house. I wrote it as if it were last summer, before my dad passed away. When I write this way, I'm reminded of when I was in acting class, doing sense-memory exercises.

So here is the piece:

----

In the Quiet

I sit in my daddy’s big leather recliner and just listen to the house. It’s not often that I’m alone here and it feels uncomfortable. The leather is cool on the back of my legs and the breeze from the fan above blows cool air on my knees and shins. I’ve always loved the feel of a softly blowing fan. It helps me relax a bit.

The dark brown paneling that wraps around the den, interrupted only by big windows and French doors, is the same as when my mother and daddy built the house. The furniture pieces-- sofa, two recliners, guest chair, and television--are in the exact same places they’ve always been, although these are my stepmother’s furniture picks, not my mom’s.

I wonder if I’ll still be coming to the house in another year’s time.

I wonder, if, after my father passes away, my stepmother will sell the house.

The quiet is not really quiet. I notice it when the air-conditioning compressor turns itself back on. Since Daddy is so sick now, the house is kept much warmer than he used to find comfortable. The air-conditioner doesn’t need to work as hard as it used to. It doesn’t cycle through as many times per hour. I hear the refridgerator hum from the laundry room. It’s older than the kitchen fridge. That’s probably why I can hear it instead of the other one.

I notice that the slightly rancid smell of cigarettes still hangs in the air, even though my stepmother has begun insisting that she and daddy go outside to smoke. I wonder if they really do, when no one is visiting, or if my stubborn father refuses. Lord, he refuses to quit smoking, even though he now must drag an oxygen tank along behind.

A multi-colored carpet has replaced the sea green one that my stepmother used to have on the floor. The sea green rug replaced the red shag that my mother had laid down. A pale leather couch replaces my mother’s tweed brown one. My mother’s guest chair has been replaced by a love-seat. I wonder if Judy would be surprised that she had nearly duplicated my mother’s furniture placement? It’s one of the things we never discuss.

I know that Judy has never loved the house like my father does. I remember when he and mom were having it built. My father remarked that this was the first and last house that he’d ever build. He planned to die here. I suppose that’s why he fought so hard for it in the divorce, and why Judy could never talk him into moving. Once he’s gone, what memories will the house hold? Will it be forever haunted by his presence? Or will that be only in my mind?

-----

Reading back over the above, I realize that I really wrestled with verb tenses in this short piece. Hope I corrected them all, and am not embarrassing myself here!

Have you ever tried to analyze where in your brain or body your creativity lives? I'd love it if you shared you thoughts with me.

Bout One

So yesterday, I resolved to keep a journal of my writing--of my creative process. So today, I'm attempting to keep that resolution.

Writing yesterday went fairly well. I'm still wrestling with this memoir piece. When I had my rough draft critiqued by the class, I was shocked at the feedback--which was generally positive. I was thankful for that, no doubt. But only 2 reviewers said that it seemed unfinished. They are the only 2 who caught onto the truth.

The memoir is about how my body image has always messed with my head. In the last five to ten years my body has caught up with my body image.

When I was a teenager and young adult, I thought I was fat. I wasn't, but I thought I was. When you spend 5 hours a day in a leotard, hanging out with Olympic quality gymnasts, that can mess with your head. Gymnasts are always comparing their bodies to others, thinking they are not good enough. For many, that results in anorexia. For me, I essentially gave up on being thin enough and became what I thought I was.

Now I wrestle with my writing and my weight. And I've hit the age where it's tough to get weight off. I know what I need to do to jump start weight loss. I need to exercise more. The aching knees aren't so thrilled with the idea.

I think that the memoir is in decent shape to turn in, although one scene I have glossed over with summary really needs to be turned into one that's much more specific. I'm finding it difficult to be that revealing about a moment in my life that has had repercussions for decades.
The good news is that I DID write yesterday, not just for the grade, although that does come into it. I'm writing this piece for possible publication. It's a first person essay about weight and body image, so I think it could work in several magazines. 90% of the headlines at the newsstand are about weight. I know most of them are "how to take weight off" articles, but I think that there's a market for this.

I can't say that I was able to sit at my computer and have the words come flowing out of me. I came to my computer and wrote a bit. I got up and wandered about the house. I wouldn't let myself do the dishes even though they needed to be done, because cleaning house, especially doing the dishes, is one of my favorite avoidance techniques. After letting the dog out, and microwaving a meal, and eating the meal, I finally sat back down at my computer and wrote a bit more. Then I got up and "needed" to go to the grocery store--actually I did, to get dog and cat food and I WAS out of microwaveable meals. I finally came back to the computer and wrote a bit more.

When primetime TV came on, I HAD to watch Gilmore Girls (my favorite TV show of all time--I love the witty dialogue and pop culture references). But I printed out the draft and made revisions while watching House. I still need to type them up, and fix that one scene, but I have time to do that today.

I wish I was one of those people who had better "bum glue." At the moment, my bum glue is fairly weak, but I'm celebrating the fact that it's getting stronger.

The Mystery of It All, Or, What's Weight Got to Do with Writing?

I think that I will start using one of the steps of EG's process, and start keeping a journal of my writing. In her book she mentions that while writing a new novel, she not only keeps a journal, but that every morning, she rereads part of the journal she kept for the previous book. It reminds her that she has gone through this process, and overcome the same sorts of problems, before.

I think for me, if I journal about the day's writing that I plan to do, that I will be able to warm up my brain, get into writing mode, and possibly use this forum to work through some of the problems that seem to stop me from writing at all.

I've tried the breaking it down into small pieces thing--it helps, but not enough. I've tried to just start...you know, when some writing tomes say you're not a writer if you avoid it. (I'm talking about Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande. I HATE that book. I DO NOT recommend it. It's written by one of those writers that want to keep writing an exclusive club.)

One reason I love Ralph Key's The Courage to Write so much is that it shares so many stories of very good, very famous writers who have trouble with writing. One writer had his butler lock him in his office (outside of his home) with no clothes! Now, that's incentive to get your pages done. Write x number of pages today, or never come out, unless you want to walk down the street naked. Of course, I don't make enough money to pay for an outside office, much less pay someone to lock me in without my clothes.

I hope by the time I do make enough money with my writing that I won't still need someone to lock me in!

Right now, I'm struggling with my memoir for my creative non-fiction class. I'm scared to write it, for the only thing I've thought to write about is my relationship with food and my body. And let me tell you, it's a pretty twisted relationship. Anorexics get all the attention--poor things, they have a disease. Fat people are just jeered at and blamed for their own poor health. I'm overweight. I'm not as fat as some people, but according to the weight tables of the Centers for Disease Control, I'm obese. (Don't know how, when I'm 5'4" and less than 200 pounds. I wear either a size 14 or 16. But whatever.) The problem is that I've always had trouble with body image. I thought I was fat when I wasn't. I thought I was fat when I wore a size 8, and then a size 10...See where this is leading?

So now that I do have more weight on me, I hate my body even more. So writing an honest memoir about it is difficult. I don't even know how to end it. People want uplifting, triumph of the spirit endings, but I still wrestle with my weight and my body image, just like I wrestle with my writing. My teacher said I needed a resolution whether triumph or despair. It can't be triumph, or I'd be healthier. It's not despair either, since I refuse to just quit and gain more weight. So where's my ending?

Honesty is hard. And confusing. Just like I don't understand why I have to wrestle with my creativity, I don't understand why I wrestle with my weight. I know that I'd be healthier if I ate less and exercised more (especially the exercise more part). I know that I'd be a better writer if I wrote more...so why do I find my mind blocking both of these things?

A mystery still to be solved.

I'm stuck!

I'm in a weird funk right at the moment.

I'm really stuck.

I enrolled in the Professional Writer's Program at KSU in order to

• become a better writer
• make writer friends with whom to bond over writing and share work
• learn new skills that will pay off with a new job
• become a better writer

So, my problem is this: All semester long, I've been feeling really overwhelmed and I've been a real grade grubber--worrying more about the grades that I will make on my assignments than what I was learning. There have been times this semester that it really made me vicious! (Of course, I'd say 80% of the vicious thing was PMS. PMS hits me now like it did in my 20s. At least I don't actually yell at people anymore. I snarl at people, hide away in my room and write angry e-mails.)

Does that list of reasons that I enrolled in the program contain "make good grades?" No, it does not. But put me in a classroom, and all the old bad habits that I developed in decades of trying to win the approval of my parents and teachers rather than learn anything pop back up.

Recently, I've decided to re-dedicate myself to what I really want to do: write well. I also need to keep in mind that writing often will lead to better writing.

I'm a writer, right? So why do I have to remind myself to write often? Because, like all weasly grade-grubbing types, I worry about being judged. Worry about being judged can stop a creative person from actually practicing their creativity. Boom.

I've got only 1 week left to finish up all the projects that I have due for my classes this semester. I've been sitting around worrying about them rather than taking my own good advice and working on them bit by bit. So now, I'm back in my familiar panic mode, hoping that I can get them completed. I look back on old work and think "this really could have used another polish." And the stuff that I'm about to turn in will need another polish too. But I really haven't left myself a lot of time to do that.

So, wish me luck. I'll turn in something. I just hope that it passes muster. With me. I have to remember that I'm writing for me...not just for a grade.