Archive for 'On Writing'
Restoring the Past
Posted on 06. May, 2010 by Deb.
When I moved blogs from my dot net to this domain, I deleted more blog posts than I imported back in. At the time, I had felt I was making the right decision as the man I was seeing was jealous of the men in my past, some of which (The Pilot Guy specifically). I went a little crazy after the initial export last year and deleted over 80% of my past posts.
Earlier this week, I ran across the Wordpress file from the move and decided to take a leap of faith about lessons learned: you cannot erase the past. In fact, the events and actions of our past is what we learn from. Tonight, though I should be in bed, I imported the old posts and the only deletions I made from the import were the duplicates.
So, if you are the type to go through a persons archives, you will find some things there today that weren’t there yesterday. There is still some clean-up that needs to be done, like the restoration of some photos and the cleaning up of categories. But it feels good.
The photo, by the way, was taken on a dear friend’s back porch. On a day when I needed comfort and an escape. A part of my past – a part of my growth as a woman – a part of my evolution. Because we cannot erase the past, but we can certainly learn from it….
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In the Vein of Being Public with My Goals
Posted on 02. May, 2010 by Deb.
It’s Sunday morning. It’s the perfect day for sleeping in thanks to the cloudy skies and the almost-rainy feeling in the air, My body is doing that lanquid pull back to my bed, insisting that the mattress is what Goldilocks would wish for (not too soft but not too hard) and the sheets have that sensual crisp fill and there would be the bliss of surrendering to my dreams.
Instead, I am up and sipping on my second cup of coffee.
I’ve fed the animals, have spent some time in mediation and have caught up on my email and the overnight Twitter feed. I am making some mental lists of tasks to accomplish this week. I am determined that this week will be productive.
I mentioned the WayBack machine recently, and in reviewing some almost decade-old posts, I was amazed at the sheer volume I was writing. I was traveling this past week and though I didn’t have much time to write, I did have some quiet time to think and in questioning myself as to how I was able to be so prolific, I realized that I was doing the bulk of my writing early in the morning. It was also a time before Social Media sights, like Twitter and Facebook. All this thinking led me to a few points to ponder.
- When is my mind the freshest? Mornings. In order to accomplish this, I need to get to bed earlier and get up earlier. My second freshest time is right before I go to bed.
- What is my true goal: to be a better Social Media person or be a better Writer? To be a better writer. To take these ever-flowing, copious thoughts and put them to paper.
- What’s the point of getting up earlier if I’m going to linger? That’s the point. I can’t linger and surf and play. I need to spend a dedicated 15 to 30 minutes writing.
- How can I stay caught up on things? Discipline. Focus. Goal Setting. List Making. A trusty egg-timer.
I know I shouldn’t try to add too many habits into my days at one time if I hope for them to stick, but I believe I have a plan.
- I need to return to spending an hour on Sundays to review my schedule, updating my task list, and setting mini-goals for the week. If you must know, I still believe in many of the habits I began when I was subscribing to the Covey methods for organization.
- I need to spend a small out of time meditating each day.
- I need to utilize my mornings better, and spend 15 to 30 minutes doing personal writing.
- I need to trade Scrubs re-runs at bedtime for another 30-minutes of writing.
- I need to turn distractions off during my writing time, including Tweetdeck and my email window.
The last several months have been more difficult than I could ever express, though I finally wrote a little in my column for All Things Girl. Besides rebuilding my faith in myself, I also need to embrace some other principals, like courage and passion. I am a strong woman with some solid goals. Thing is, there is only one person who can accomplish my goals, and that is me.
I am also a smart woman and know that the best way to help myself is to also allow myself to lean on my friends. I cannot continue to hide the good, the bad, and the ugly from those people who love me. If I allow my friends to hold me to my goals, so if you see that I miss more than a day or two here, please feel free to call me on it. Comment. Email me. It’s all part of me trusting that other people honestly care about me as ME instead of pretending to care because they want something from me.
I am a creative being and know that Life is a journey. I know that my spirit wants to grow and achieve. I know that with each day, I have a little more faith. And it feels right.
Much love to you and yours.
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Muse
Posted on 23. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
I got a call from one of my closest girlfriends today.
“My muse is angry at me,” she said.
Then we began to discuss why she felt that way and, better yet, how to remedy it. For some writers, there is a ritual, routine, and rhythm associated to their writing. She is one of those writers. When she finds her rhythm, though, it’s magical.
I’ve been having problems connecting with my muse myself. It’s why I understood what she was trying to tell me. Lately, when I sit to write, all I see before me is a blank canvas that I’m afraid to paint upon. Now to figure out how the hell to overcome the fear and reconnect myself.
(bolded words are my magnetic words for the last three days)
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Magnetic Words: Know
Posted on 17. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
My mother could never read me enough books and my grandmother could never tell me enough tales about her life. When I learned to read, I could never consume enough books. When I meet people, I want to know about them. And when someone does something incredibly odd, I want to know why.
How does a story unfold? How did a character get through a sticky situation? Why is my grandmother crying in the only family photo of her family when she was a child? Why does this person have an obession? Where are we in the world?
I think it’s my innate curiosity.
I want to know.
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Magnetic Words: Rhythm
Posted on 16. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
Music is as much a part of my life as words. Not that many nights ago, I had mentioned to The Boy that a constant soundtrack plays in my head throughout the day. My tastes are quite pedestrian to most, but still diverse. I like music I can sing or music that makes me want to dance. Especially music that I can sing, as I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember, though I haven’t done it in public in ages. When I listen to a song, I hear the rhythm of the words and the melody. I’m not much of a poetry writer, though I have dabbled there. I admire a good poem, just as I admire a good book or a good song. Poetry often depends upon the rhythm of the words.
Maybe it’s time I dabble back in poetry a bit.
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Magnetic Words, Day Five
Posted on 15. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
The pile of magnetic words originated from two collections: Art & Literature. I knew eventually I would draw a color. Today, the word of the day is blue. Two thoughts come to my pre-caffeinated mind: “Robin Egg’s Blue” and “Cerulean”.
Several months back, I was suffering from a severe case of writer’s block. When The Boy asked why I hadn’t written in weeks, I told him I couldn’t think of a thing to say. He suggested I baby step back into writing and describe my morning walk. The sky that day was a beautiful Robin Egg Blue. I baby stepped into writing again after that.
And Cerulean. I love the way the word rolls off my tongue when I say it.
I had wondered what a simple color would say to me when it came to writing and I immediately knew when the simple blue appeared on my refrigerator door. Words are another form of art, and getting a reader to see through a writer’s eyes depends upon descriptive words. Blue is the parent to a whole rainbow of blues. It’s an angel’s azure eyes, an officer’s navy uniform, a teenager’s teal prom dress, and my cotton cornflower nightgown.
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Magnetic Words: Observe
Posted on 14. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
I wrinkled my nose when I first saw my word for today: Observe. Wasn’t the point of this exercise to get me doing, not just watching? Then I recalled the words of those who have gone before me. Writers who have published multiple books. In order to write, you have to live and observe life.
From Breena Clarke author of River, Cross My Heart and Stand the Storm:
There is balance as a writer. It is a solitary profession in many respects. One thing that has been fortunate for me is that before my first book was published, I worked full time in an office and part time at my writing. After River, Cross My Heart, I was able to write full time. I do have a lot of buddies and friends, I’m married and I have my dogs. I have a nice little social circle, and when I was working full time, I used public transportation. Having contact with people, just looking at them and watching them, is a great asset. It’s interesting to try and read what they are thinking, seeing their faces and bodies and attitudes and being sketch out them as characters. I have continued to do that when I can. Now that writing full time, one thing that was most difficult was (took an early retirement) was the thought I could write all day. I thought how fabulous it would be, but it doesn’t work that way. No one works twenty-four-hours a day. It took me quite awhile to achieve a schedule. For the first time, I was in charge of my whole schedule.
From an interview with author, screenwriter, and television producer George Pelecanos:
It was at a point that many hardboiled detective novels were more about the WHY rather than the WHO. I had gone down there (with the police) and hung out and done the street work, and I saw a different possibility and changed direction. I look at it as a form of reporting and you have to feel the dirt between your fingers. I talk to people, and I listen. An afternoon of work can consist of walking into a bar and ordering a beer and listening to people talk, riding the bus down the avenue, or just getting outside and hanging out with people. What I try to do is to front load all my research – spend a couple of months being out there – with police, prison, parole officer, humane society officers. It’s part of the job. You have to get enough ammunition to write a book, then come home and lock yourself in for five or six months – day and night – and everything (due to my research) is there at my feet.
When you are researching, I keep it all in my head. It intimidates people when you pull out a pad or a tape recorder. Then, when you get home, you make your notes.
The trick now, is to take those observations and write them down into something substantial and cohesive.
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Magnetic Words, Day Three
Posted on 13. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
In the dark last night, I shuffled the magnetic word pile, allowing my fingers to grope and pluck until five words had been chosen.
I held them in my hand. I could feel the heat of the words; it was as if they would burn through my fingers if I didn’t look at them. But I couldn’t. Look, that is. It was against the rules of the game as the word of the day cannot be seen until the morning when it is placed on the refrigerator door do the right of the handle. And even though I am the one making the rules, I can’t break them.
At least not yet.
The kitchen still dark, I open my hand and gently place the words – one by one – on the side. These would be my words for the work week. My hand was still warm from the words as I climbed into bed for the night. I could hear them whispering to me in my dreams, begging me to “pick me” in the morning.
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Pre-coffee, I reached around the side of the fridge and chose a word. I could feel the heat emanating from all of them, but I can only choose one. I slide it into its space for the day and allow myself to finally gaze upon it. Today, the word is from The Boy.
I could hear this word roll off his tongue and into my ear. It’s whispered to me with his growly bear voice, the one reserved for mornings and intimate moments. When I try the word upon my own tongue, it sounds foreign. So I will keep it in my ear all day. And when I think it or type it, it it comes out only in his voice, a gift to me.
“Glorious,” he says to me. “You, my baby, are glorious. Now be a good girl, and write.”
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Magnetic Words: Compose
Posted on 12. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
I closed my eyes, reached into the pile of magnetic words, and gingerly plucked one. I kept the word face down until I made my way to the refrigerator, turned it over and placed it in the space beside the handle. I find that, though quiet at times, my guiding spirit is ever present and speaking to me, so I am sure that it was a purposeful nudge that sent me in the direction of this word today instead of canvas or green.
I look at the word and listen to my heart as the voice whispers in my ear my word for today: “Compose.”
“Create,” says the voice. “And while you are at it, pull yourself together.”
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Magnetic Words: Grace
Posted on 11. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
I mentioned the pile of magnetic words the other day. In some ways, they are still mocking me, but I am beginning to make friends with them in small ways. I figure if I make friends with them, they won’t be mean to me. Well, maybe not as mean to me.
This morning, I found a single word on the refrigerator door: GRACE
From Webster’s:
2 a: approval, favor barchaic : mercy, pardon c: a special favor : privilege d: disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency e: a temporary exemption : reprieve
I took “grace” to heart this morning as the words played through my head: mercy – kindness – pardon – reprieve. It was the perfect word to find as I struggled to wake and began to prepare my first cup of coffee.
I’ve been off the last month or so. Nothing most of you around here would notice, unless you knew me pre-Tumblr. Know on days when I am reblogging a photo someone posted or sending you to interesting news pieces from around the globe, I am doing it because I care about the world around me and I care about what you care about – because it’s important enough to you to make you laugh or make you cry.
When asked what I am, for years I have said I am a writer. It isn’t about a want, it is a need. Words play in my head from the moment I wake and often haunt me when I sleep. One of my biggest problems is that I allow reality to creep in too much and lose sight of my inner child. Needing to be in touch with that inner child is critical, but you cannot behave as a child when it comes to craft. I am too undisciplined and too emotional – and that has got to change. I must find the way to corral the child’s enthusiasm and love into a disciplined practice.
I know that it may start slowly. Discipline isn’t something you can just strap on and wear as you would a new pair of shoes. It is something that has to be cultivated and tended. And in some ways, it begins with grace.
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Magnetic Words
Posted on 08. Jul, 2009 by Deb.
There is a pile of magnetic words on my desk and they are mocking me.
green angry purple who
soft stroke drunk instrument
grace nude white free
death give art canvas
I used to arrange them in little phrases on the dry erase board that hung next to the desk. But then they became relegated to a few phrases on an old food tin with the balance of the words gathering dust in a coffee cup.
While I was at work yesterday, my daughter found them and joyfully pulled them out of their dusty home. And rearranged the phrases on the tin container. Laughing, she showed me how the words “hard” and “on” had become stuck together. She showed me the words she put inside a compartment of the tin “so empty”.
The words above were in the pile, but to the left, all alone, is the word “approach”. As much as the pile is mocking me, the word to the side is reminding me that the words are still there. They are just waiting for me to get away from some of my fear of stringing them together to once again form phrases and sentences and paragraphs. Fear is a powerful thing and I must master it and overcome it.
I need to focus on the new phrases that my daughter set out for me
I can feel the joy
live life
create music
passion
I see why you write
imagine
shimmer
impression
they demand it
passion
from me to you
glorious experiment
Here is to overcoming fear. Finding my words. And focus on the new word that I’ve pulled aside: “soon”. Time for this girl to head to my client’s office. I hope ya’ll have a great morning.
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Catching Up for All Things Girl
Posted on 27. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
This evening has been about catching up on all my backlogged email for All Things Girl. The next issue is due out at the end of the week, and I feel behind. I prefer to feel ahead. It will get there, though. It always does. I have yet to write my column, mainly because I don’t quite know what to write about. I like my columns to be a reflection of my growth and progress as a person and the changes in myself are so vast that it is hard to put into words some days. That’s a very good thing, actually. But as a writer, it gives me pause.
The editor for this upcoming issue for Arts seems to be AWOL, so I’ve been reviewing submissions for Arts, and am feeling very inspired by the wonderful images. In the early days of the zine, I had submissions in the Arts section often, but as the quality of digital photography has grown, fewer of my images make their way into our digital pages. We made a decision at the last redesign to treat each of the editors like anyone else: we submit to the issue through the editor of the section just like anyone. I’m giving my photos a quick glance-through, though!
A new redesign is in progress, and one of the things we have decided to do is close the reviews section and move all the reviews into the blog. We’ve been without a reviews editor for four issues now, so it’s a group effort. And to be honest, it’s almost as if we are competing with ourselves by putting reviews in both sections. We need reliable reviewers, though, as we are offered books to review all the time but just don’t have enough time – or people – to actually do the reviews.
Today is one of those thinking out loud days.
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Upcoming Changes
Posted on 25. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
I am changing my blog, and if you are here on the date this is written, you are one of the handful of friends that knows. It will be public in the next week or so, just as soon as the design work is completed. I’m not in a rush, when it gets down to it; my blog has never been about traffic, but about the exercise of writing. There are many factors, but overall, it is simply time for a change. One of many changes this year. I don’t look at change as a negative, by the way, but a positive.
Overall, I am an optimistic person and in thinking up a new domain name, I thought about my overall philosophy about this “thing” that is my life. When it comes down to it, I know that life is not always easy; at times we must do things that are incredibly difficult. In order to continue growing, remembering the positive while dealing with the difficult is like this: focus on the sprinkles of the cupcake that is my life. Simplistic and not always practical, but certainly a better approach to life than to focus on the dregs in the bowl.
I took the words of Courage and Passion for 2008 and am well versed in their application to my life. As Audre Lorde put it “Afraid is a country with no exit visa” and if I choose to live in the world of fear, I will never grow nor change. So courage shall continue. And life is not a life well lived without passion. Life is about living – and loving. 2009 has turned out to be the best year ever of my life. There have been changes in me that I hadn’t thought possible; I have learned more about openness, vulnerability and trust than I knew. There has also been the gift of love, and through love, the ability to learn to forgive myself for my imperfections. In the words of Zona Gale “Loving, like a prayer, is a power as well as a process. It is curative. It is creative.” The process is truly wonderful – frightening, but also so incredibly amazing. Each day brings new magic and I am appreciating each and every single sprinkle I’m given.
Life is simply too short to do otherwise.
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Make It PINK
Posted on 17. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Today when I got my manicure and pedicure, instead of my typical red and/or french, I got pink. Not a dark-almost-red raspberry, but a delicate baby carnation pink.The last couple of months, I have been embracing my femininity; pink is just one of those things. So is exploring changes in my hairstyle, little sparkly clips, and putting on a dress to wear on evenings when I am simply home. It’s a break from the bulk of last year, when I wore black suits and pantyhose every day. A year ago, I would have said you wouldn’t catch me dead in delicate pink nail polish, nor would you find a little white daisy on my polished pink big toe; it just goes to show that you should never say never.
The first really dressy dress I remember owning was for my cousin Judy’s wedding. I know some folks don’t consider Texans as Southerners, but in our own way, we are. Weddings, of course, are important affairs for anyone, but in the South, they can be huge affairs. My Aunt and my cousin were sorority girls, so this wedding, the oldest daughter as well as the oldest granddaughter, was enormous. The wedding was in June of 1972. The color scheme was rainbow, and each of the bridesmaids wore a differently colored pastel chiffon dress with a matching hat. I was not the flower girl, but I did get to pass out the rice to the guests, which meant I needed something pastel and fancy; I wanted something pink.
I can clearly remember the dress, although it’s been more than thirty years: it was a delicate silky pink gingham with white lace trim. It was floor length and I wore white stockings and white patent leather Mary Janes. I can’t recall actually buying the dress, but I remember the events surrounding the purchase. We had to drive to Dallas as there were no big department stores in the nearest town, Arlington. These days, I go to Dallas regularly, but in 1972, getting from Mansfield, Texas to Dallas was like an adventure. Or maybe my mother just made a big deal out of needing to drive to Dallas to go shopping. She never has been much of a traveler. I don’t remember trying on dresses and making this final selection, I do remember eating lunch after; I guess I’ve always been a little food driven and it was the first time we ate at The Zodiac Room, the tea room at the Downtown Dallas Neiman Marcus.
Funny how our minds and memories work and the choice of pink nail polish made me recall my first fancy dress. Maybe it was a simple trigger of a color that reminded me, or maybe, I’m beginning to get down to the core of the person I truly am: part tomboy, part girly-girl. I’m learning how to play again and I am embracing my femininity. When it gets down to it, I guess I just I enjoy being a girl….and I hope you enjoy this lovely little song from “Flower Drum Song”:
Happy Friday! I hope this finds you embracing who you want to be today.
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Rain on Hot Concrete
Posted on 11. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
It’s Spring in Texas, evident by not only the burgeoning flowers and trees, but also the presence of thunderstorms tonight. Spring storms can be both exciting to watch but frightening to experience when raindrops are accompanied by hail or worse, tornadoes. We desperately need the rain here in the North Texas area as we have been experience wildfires and were still under a burn-ban. The rain tonight isn’t expected to satisfy the need for rain in the area, but any little bit helps.
Spring rains, however, do not hold a place in my heart like summer rains. Oh, it isn’t that I hate spring rains; I recognize their need intellectually, of course. I’ve also learned appreciate to the fierceness of the storms and respect the power of Mother Nature. Spring rains, however, are like a woman in desperate need of her estrogen shot: unpredictable. They can be harsh and cold in one moment, soft and weepy in others, and in the next moment, unreasonably angry. Anyone in the “Tornado Alley” of the US understands, I’m sure.
Summer rains? Now those are a totally different animal. My reminiscences of summer rains are all about unbearably hot days and quick thunderstorms. I’m sure there is ferocity to summer rains, but those are not the standouts in my memory. The best summer rains were the ones that took place in July when I was at my grandmother’s house. She allowed me to go out and play in the rain, telling me that I didn’t have to worry about “catching my death” thanks to the warmth of the air. There was nothing better than the first moments of standing barefooted in the grueling heat one moment and in the next, but hit with big, fat drops of rain. The rain was cooling and soothing and fresh, a way to wash away the grime of the 100 degree day.
And there is nothing like the smell of the cooling summer rain as it first hits the hot concrete. Trust me, the smell of a spring rain, as evidenced by my brief stand on my front porch, just isn’t the same.