Reading Old Entries

About three months before we opened up shop, I spent some time going through old journals.  I started out looking for the journals I liked the best so I could contact the manufacturer.  I ended up on the floor, surrounded by memories, laughing and crying and generally having a great time.

Not all journals are meant to be kept.  There are periods of time in my life when anger was volatile and circumstances designed to push my buttons were a daily occasion.  I have a few notebooks full of anger.  The catharsis for me was in the venting, in the writing down.  I burned the journals, unopened, a year later.

The nine to twelve notebooks I filled up over the loss of a relationship and a violent physical act I suffered are still in a box in the attic.  The relationship was not a healthy one.  The attack was emotionally damaging.   I have no desire to torture myself again by reading those journals.  When they come down from the attic, they will get burned.

The journals I wrote in while working with Dr. Frank Bell are ones I will keep forever.  They chronicle the transition from working to being…the flowering open of my hopes, dreams, and career aspirations.  His counseling as a boss and mentor were priceless to me and opened up so many new ideas and possible roads, I can’t bear to part with the record of that portion of my journey.

I keep my prayer journals and the journals in which I recorded study, insights, and growth.

As more and more of my journaling makes it into electronic media, I’m not certain if my paper journals will continue to be as prolific as they have been for years.  So much of my private world finds its way into my blog and the E-Zine that I write less on paper in a personal way.  I still do, but my 140 page monthly quota now encompasses all I do for the company as well as personal writing.  There simply isn’t enough time in the day to keep up both.  The articles and blog do satisfy my need to put my thoughts into words and exercise the writing muscle, so I’m not driven to my journal quite as much as I was a year ago.  However, nothing can replace pen on paper for me and I still write a minimum of five pages a day by hand.

My old journals serve as a source of inspiration for article ideas, especially since I began taking my research notes in them about six months ago.  Zotero and Clipmarks are a great add-on to my research, but the seeds and kernels of ideas still appear from my pen.

How are you using your old entries?  Do you burn your journals or keep them?  How often do you go through them and use the words in them?

New Journal Day

I started a new journal today.  I will start it.  I’m still absorbed in the newness—the smell, the feel, the unblemished pages.  It’s my favorite day of the month.  New Journal Day, full of new possibilities and fresh insights.  It never ceases to delight me.

The first of the month is a good day to begin something fun or exciting.  It helps balance the bill paying and hectic first-week tasks elsewhere.  What are you starting today?  A new writing project, short story, revision, or a new journal?

This month, I will be writing in the Floppy Disk Journal by Retro Printing and Publishing.  The dark cream pages just seem so inviting, though they are still pristine.  The paper reminds me of Autumn.    Fall is my favorite season.  I wanted a journal that reflected the mood of falling leaves, clear blue skies and chill-kissed noses.    For more information on this particular review, head to our E-Zine for a product review.

How do you select your next journal?  Are you due for a new one?

Where Did the Poet Come From??

Not much to write tonight.  Took the night off as far as putting pen to paper.  Just sitting back to absorb the world around me and let all I’ve taken in settle and percolate.

 

I got an unexpected and oddly thrilling little piece this morning.  I’m not a poet unless you count limericks and your standard “4 line must rhyme” poems from school. This doesn’t rhyme, but it feels like poetry.   I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d heard some of the phrases somewhere, but a quick Google search didn’t turn anything up.

 

Anyway, here’s something from the deepest well.  Unexpected and not my usual style, but worth recording for posterity.

 

Rise…I Call Thee

 

Rise from sleep, intrepid one.  I call thee from slumber to make use of thy muse.  Take pen in hand and spend time with me.  Uncover the words branded across my surface.  Use ink to discover what lies beneath.  Within and without my lines lies Art, the essence of you.

 

Come to me, fresh from dreams and other worlds.  Sit with me, move across me.  Dive into me.  Let me be a mirror to your gravid soul.  Beautiful prose shall adorn me.  Thoughts and ponderings, clever turns of phrase.  Together we shall mine the depths for rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.

 

Let me speak when you are done.  Breathe life into me and send me out into the world…your child, your lover, your intimate friend.

 

Rise from sleep, intrepid one.  I call thee from thy slumber.

Research Addiction

I like research.  Research is the best, most acceptable way to delay writing!  ‘I can’t finish the article yet, I need more research.”  “Not time to write that essay…I am still researching.”  Research is very good at occupying my mind…and very bad for productivity.

 

The more you enjoy learning, the bigger the trap research becomes.  Reading and learning is gratifying all by itself.   It can easily expand to fill all the time you’ve set aside for writing on any given day.

 

Research is, of course, important.  Actual research: looking up facts, running down sources, and getting background information is one aspect.  However, research also includes feeding yourself on daily life, current events, good books, and deep thinking.  Research is highly addictive.

 

The correlation that comes to mind is food addiction.  How do you cure an addiction when you can’t walk away from it and leave it completely behind?  You must research, at least on some level, in order to write.  You must eat in order to live.  And yet the means of writing, just as with the means of living, have addictive properties of their own.

 

Can you tell I’m currently trying to set a workable daily schedule to make sure I am producing on a daily basis?  Looking over my time log for the last three days, I’ve seen an alarming proportion of my time going to research.  It creeps into the time set aside for writing with alarming regularity.  And yet, it must be done.   Following up on one more link or one more referenced source is very hard to turn away from.

 

I’m not unusual in that I require some quiet time to process before I write.  Trying to fit this into my current schedule is proving difficult.  I can and have been moving directly from research to composition.  I can see a clear decline in the reflective quality of my work as a result.

 

Awareness and acknowledgement are supposed to be the first steps in dealing with any addiction.  Time to strategize.  Tomorrow I will write first, then move to research, and back to writing again if the words are there.  If that doesn’t work, I can try something else…or start creating a 12 step program for writers with this insidious addiction!

Success Means Accepting the Risk of Failure

Much has been said on the discipline of writing…of Process and Technique.  Many words have been penned to attempt an explanation of why a writer writes.  You can find plenty of analysis on the web for why some authors make it and some don’t.   Beyond amazing good luck, however, I think there is one attributing factor someone considering writing must take into account.

 

I came across a quote in my files this evening:

 

If you don’t allow yourself the possibility of writing something very, very bad, it would be hard to write something very good.

Steven Galloway

What a wonderful reminder!  The Interminable Writer wrote a post titled Dare to Suck! about this very topic (link below).

 

Prolific writers are those most likely to produce quality work.  Why?  Their odds are the same as our odds.  The difference is the prolific writer has taken a great many opportunities to succeed or fail.  The average person thinking about writing might have taken the leap a dozen times.  The more you try…the more volume you produce…the more you improve your chances.

 

I’m not trained in statistics, but I know enough to provide a basic example.  Say writer one has produced 10 short stories this year.  Writer two has produced 100 short stories.  If the odds are 1:10 in favor of a good piece, writer one might actually have written one truly worthy short story.  However, writer two might have produced 10 of them.  See what I mean?

 

 The more you write, the better your chances because the odds are applied to a larger body of work.  If you allow yourself to write without worrying about how good it is and give yourself permission to write bad stuff as well as good stuff, you will increase your opportunities to write the really good stuff.  You are also learning, honing your craft, and developing your skills.  Doing these things also improves your chances of something great.

 

Faced with the daunting volume of words I must produce to keep my business fresh and entertaining, I must come to terms with the reality that sometimes I will suck.  Hopefully those pieces will get weeded out and never make the internet (fingers crossed), but I have to be willing to fail in order to succeed.

 

Life is full of profound lessons.  I’m glad I was reminded of this one.

 

Link to Dare to Suck!  http://interminablewriter.wordpress.com/2008/07/09/dare-to-suck/

 

 

How Much of Me?

I spoke with several business owners today in the course of my Day Job.  The closer I get to opening my store, the more courage I gather to ask them what they think of owning a business.

 

I asked one gentleman today how much of his personality and “self” was in his business.   While he runs a business that employs 14 people today, he started out with a truck and helper 20 years ago.  My question caught him off guard.  A look I can only describe as sadness or nostalgia passed through his features as he thought about his answer.

 

“Honestly, Barb,” he said, “My whole self is in this business, but the bigger it gets, the less personality is there.  In the early days, I got jobs based on my ‘talk and walk’ as they say.  Today it’s all about reputation and economic factors and so much other stuff.”  He got wistful for a moment, looking out the window at his new 4-door truck and the boat attached to the back.  “I miss the old days.”  He turned to me and grinned.  “But I sure like the solvency!”

 

He got me to thinking about what success might mean to me.  I read frequently about SOHO (small office, home office…typically a virtual office or web worker) businesses deliberately choosing not to grow.  Various reasons are cited, including not wanting to lose the immediacy and responsive report they have with clients and not wanting to evolve into something that would provide less control.

 

What would success mean for me?  On a practical basis, it would pay the bills and allow me to work from home full time.  This might, at some point, entail a very small staff to assist with packaging and shipping orders, stocking inventory, perhaps even the bookkeeping.  But what if it went really big?  Would I then become just another person tied to an office and a job, even if it’s my business that I love?

 

I think, for me, success means paying the bills, doing some good in the world, and having more time to research, write, and share. I can outsource some things (and already have; hubby is on board for customer support and shipping, and I have a webmaster/marketing genius working with me), but I imagine I will always stay active in customer service.  Not only is it enjoyable, talking to people interested in what I sell, but I am always aware that it is their interest allows me to be a business owner. 

 

Of course, I’d want to do as much of the writing as humanly possible.  It’s what I do and my first love.  My grand passion is writing.  My love affair is with journals.  Might be an odd set of similes, but there you go.

 

Ultimately, I’ve decided I’ll cross the bridge of growth when I come to it.  As long as we are providing a good service, a good product, and good information, I think I will always be content.

 

Writing With Arthritis

Fellow writers will understand this:  When I was first diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis and given my prognosis, my first thought was for my hands.  I am a writer.

 

To give a brief explanation, PsA is a destructive form of arthritis sometimes so similar to Rheumatoid Arthritis that they can be hard to differentiate, especially if you don’t have classic psoriasis.  Coupled with additional autoimmune diseases, it has been an aggressive and sometimes frightening addition to my life.

 

During the first few weeks, my thoughts dwelt often on my future.  I found I could accept, for the most part, the concept of possibly moving around in a wheelchair, or needing special aids and equipment to live.  What I could not accept was the idea of losing my hands, either for typing or longhand writing.  I have a voice recognition program.  It’s not at all the same.

 

It’s been a year.  I have had to adapt what type of pen I use and how I hold it, but I still write longhand on a daily basis.  I must limit my time on the computer keys and live with the destruction of my 80 wpm 2% error record.  I can live with this because I can still write how and when I want and need to.

 

My forefingers show the most deterioration; they have shortened and curve sharply.  The other fingers are beginning to curve noticeably as well.  The large thumb joints are probably the most painful, but I can manage with them stuck out straight.

 

For all the destruction started in my hands, I was almost glad when the disease moved into my spine.  Though the pain is breathtakingly intense, my hands are getting no worse for now.  I know on a deep level that I can live with many losses.  The ability to hold and use a pen is not one of them.

 

There are two quotes from Isaac Asimov that have provided both comfort and inspiration.  The first:

 

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood.  I’d type a little faster. 

 

And the second:

 

I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn’t, I would die.

And then there is:

 

We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.
                                                            Somerset Maugham

 

A clear and deep understanding of just how vital writing and the writing process are to me was not revealed until there was a chance it could be taken away.  It was the catalyst for me to evaluate my entire life, including the promises I made to myself during the 15 years I lived as a single parent and had so little time.  It helped me prioritize my needs and desires clearly and provided the impetus to make changes.  It is the reason I blog on line and the reason I started The Business. 

 

I don’t know what the future holds.   I don’t know how aggressive these autoimmune diseases will get without proper treatment and medication.  What I do know is that I am newly grateful every day that I am able to write in my journal or type at the computer.  I also understand that I must make the most of every hour my hands are doing well and work my life around the most important priorities.  I am experiencing the most productive and inspired period of my 30-year love affair with writing.

 

I find I am grateful for this disease that will eventually steal my pen from me.  It has given me the coming years of concentrated effort, enjoyment, and productivity in my writing life that I might not otherwise have had.

 

Is there a moral here?  Yup.  Never put off your dreams.  Pursue your dreams and passions every single day in whatever way you are able.  Do not put important things off for the vague future.  Make the most of the time you have today and live with Ray Bradbury’s “zest and gusto.”  If there comes a time your dreams are threatened by circumstance, injury, or illness, you will have already built momentum and memories to help you continue on in them.

 

Don’t just dare to dream.  Pursue it with passion and energy.

The Vast Chaos of a Creative Mind

My husband once referred to my mind as “vast chaos.”  Rather than upset me, I was delighted with the term and refashioned it into the phrase “the vast chaos of the creative mind.”  It is a very apt description.

 

If I am one day asked to give a quote on my personal creative process to some quote website or publication, it might read something like this:

 

First, the chaos is moving.  Picture a large midwestern tornado, picking up everything in its path as it swells and grows.  It is constantly absorbing what I read, see, observe, think about, and do. It is altered by the catalyst of lightening (sometimes called inspiration) and heavy moisture (often referred to as composting, or percolating).  Containment is important; recovery can be dangerous.  That’s why I must daily grab a string, line, or item from the chaos as it whirls past and pull hard.  Here comes my next story, essay, article, or Big Thought!

 

Sometimes I must pull for all I’m worth.  The Vast Chaos does not always relinquish easily.  Other times, I can give a hard yank and bowl myself head over anklebones with the unexpected ease of recovery. 

 

One must always exercise caution when dealing with the Vast Chaos.  There are heavy objects thundering by that can be avoided until they approach a more manageable size.  There are delicate contents that cannot be pulled with force or they will unravel and fly apart.  There are even mundane things that serve better if left as a binder in the Vast Chaos.

 

Here comes the Chaos again.  Time to fling out my hand and latch onto something solid as I put pen to paper.  Watch out for the flying sink!

 

Strange Phenomenon

A curious thing happened yesterday.  Though I prefer composing in longhand, my writing is rapid and not always in the best of penmanship.  Yesterday, however, while making notes and drafting an essay, I found myself writing with extreme care.  I wrote slowly and with far more pressure on the pen than I normally find comfortable.  Amazingly legible!  This curious event carried over into this morning’s work.  Methodical, carefully formed letters, but this time printed!  I don’t think I’ve printed anything since school.

 

I’ve spent most of today trying to understand where this thing came from.  It can’t be the pain in my thumb or the necessity of keeping it straight.  No matter the condition of my arthritic hands, I’m still writing rapid cursive that I must sometimes decipher with care.  I doubt it’s the fact that I’m reading A History of Writing (an academic and sometimes difficult book).    I’m stumped.

 

I’ve been composing a lot on the keyboard lately.  I don’t discount my neglect of the need to feel the pen and paper connecting.  Could it be I am merely feeding this addiction?  If not that, the only other possibility that comes to mind is that I might be experiencing a renewal of the reverence I feel for the writing process, including the mechanics and physical sensations of inscribing words on paper.

 

Late this afternoon, I was still writing slowly, though with less care than yesterday.  It appears this strange phenomenon might be fading.  I am aware that my thought process during this time has been very thoughtful and introspective.  Might be an interesting technique to try on purpose later on.

 

I’m sure I’ll scratch my head for a few days more, hoping for a satisfactory explanation.  There must be one, right? 

 

*Author’s note:  A full 72 hours before the phenomenon faded.

Papermaking and Writing…Not a Bad Metaphor

I was thinking yesterday that papermaking is a pretty good metaphor for writing.

 

First you gather stuff.  Paper requires a collection of shredded paper (old bills, junk mail, what have you).  Writing requires a collection of experiences, observances, research and what have you.

 

Then you get it wet and blend.  This is self explanatory for papermaking.  Blenders work great.  Water and shredded old stuff piled into a blender.  Mix until it forms slurry of the right consistency.  For writing, it is the subliminal process of percolating, gestating, or composting…pick the term you like best; a catalyst to take all the stuff, break it down, and mix it up well.

 

When the slurry is of the right consistency, you can add color via dye or even construction paper.  In writing, this could be an assignment slant or a spark of inspiration.

 

The slurry is poured or dipped onto a screen within a frame the same way a writer fills a page with words…evenly and consistently.

 

The water drains out through the screen.  At this stage, you can add pressed flora, dust with sparkles (or even spices!) or create texture.  For the writer, this process is akin to completing the first draft.

 

When dry enough, the paper sheet is set to dry…and the writing is set aside.  When the process is completed, the paper is trimmed, squared off, and made ready for use in a project or for writing.  The trimming and making ready is the final revision of the written work.

 

In both cases, you come out with something new and useful that you did not have before.  Mistakes are made.  You learn from them and throw the sheet or finished piece back in the bag or compost heap to be used again.  Sometimes the paper comes out with unexpected beauty.  Writing can often surprise the writer with clarity and rich prose.

 

Making paper requires tools and methodical work.  So does writing.  You get better sheets with practice.  And so your writing improves with practice. Substitute grammar for a shredder and thought for the blender.  See what I mean?

 

As a paper maker and a writer, the comparison makes sense to me.  When one area is flagging, I can use what I know from the other to breathe life into it again.  Both crafts are best approached with openness to the process.  Perhaps that’s why I enjoy both.  The one major difference that makes me a full-time writer but a casual paper maker is that writing can be done anywhere and any time with pen and paper.  Papermaking requres equipment and prep work that doesn’t transport near as well!

 

All things considered, not a bad metaphor at all.