A Writer's Resolutions

It is another new year and I find that I am still writing the same novel. I thought I would be done by now. No one can predict the unpredictabilities of life. There was a birth, job changes, moves, vacations, and bad weather. Sometimes when you are writing a novel and, yet working a full-time job or parenting a child, you find that finishing that same beloved novel idea is more of a Mt. Everest climb than just a small climb up a short hill.  At the end of the climb though is a completed novel and a sense of accomplishment so great.

There is also a big learning curve.  When you are writing your first novel it is exciting...until it is not. Then it is work. Writing your first novel you learn how much you really love writing and how committed you are to the process.  When you start each chapter is a step-down adventure and each character is a new friend.  Unless you truly love writing and see the rewards all the work it takes brings then those chapters stop coming and you are stuck on that path not going any further and those friendly characters start to be nagging burdens along the way.

When a new year starts many people create resolutions.  I am going to eat better, diet and lose ten pounds, exercise more, stop swearing, work harder, or simply dress better.  Ok, maybe not the last one but resolutions are the way to ring in a new year often. I used to hate going to the gym in January. It would be packed with the resolutioners.  All of them hell bent to go to the gym everyday for the rest of the year. By February I had the gym all to myself again.

Writers make resolutions as well.  I am going to write everyday. I am going to post more on my blog. I will post on my blog once a week. I am going to do more research. I am going to write ten poems this year, or this month. I am going to create characters that are amazing. I am going to finish my novel and maybe even finish a second novel.

A new year starts, the champagne pops, the ball drops, the kisses start, the noise makers blow and the resolutions are planned out.  Writers are no different in this.  But, February always starts and those resolutions have become work and in many cases, a distant memory.  I have been working on my novel for years. This weekend I did finish another chapter and I have two or three more chapters left to be written before the first draft is completed. This is exciting and it would be great to say, "This year I will finish my novel." "This year I will be published."

That is not my resolution, though.  I have never been a huge fan of making resolutions.  They were always like making false promises or false declarations.  They sound great to the ears but often end up in tears.  So this year I made one resolution.  It is not a promise.  It is an awareness that writing and being a writer takes a lot of work.  It is not all romance and adventure.  It isn't a movie and it is easy.  Even with my one resolution, there is an understanding about what being a writer truly is.  A truly passionate writer does know the work it takes to be creative.  A real writer though revels in that work. A real writer is compelled to write.  It is a need like breathing or eating.

So as I ring in 2017 my resolution for the new year is to just continue writing. That is all. Just continue doing what I love. Don't just write for work or for others but write for me.  I see a year of succeeding at this resolution but good luck on your diet and with your gym membership if that was yours.

The Many Sides of Jury Duty

Even when you are almost completed with your novel, there are only a few chapters to go, when you are a working parent to a baby it is still hard to find time to write.  You can try to write during your lunch break at work but in an open office setting that is not ideal when people are constantly talking or interrupting your creative train of thoughts.  So that hasn't worked. You can wait until your baby falls asleep.  If you were lucky enough to have a baby that slept and slept in their own bed. So that hasn't worked.  You can try to write while your baby is playing with her toys.  However, when your little one is attracted to what you are doing and the paper and pen you are using, you can get one paragraph written or edited but, that won't obviously work either.

So, what do you do?  This writer was lucky enough to get a jury summons. Serving my civic duty I went to go serve my jury duty. I dressed nicely and showed up right on time.  Thankfully, I wasn't late but I did manage to squeak in just at the last minute.  I made my way to the third floor and waited in a long line to register my presence for jury duty and get my official badge.  Then I made my way to the jury lounge where you wait to get called to serve on a jury panel.  The room I entered was very long and set up almost like a church with chairs on both sides of the room and an aisle in the center with a podium at the top of the room.  This is where the woman announces all the names and numbers of the individuals who get called to a jury panel.  The room was warm but that may be because when I walked into the room it was a little like walking in after church has already started.  The chairs were full and you had to walk down until you found a spot in the center and ask the people to let you in.  In the jury room the people were less gracious about having to move their stuff from the chair next to them to let you sit there, but I persevered, stood my ground, and got a seat I wasn't about to give up so no bathroom breaks for me.

Then, I did the most exciting thing of my day. I sat. I sat, and sat, and sat.  Doing your civic duty is dull.  At one point the court people played a video introducing you to jury duty and all you should know.  I would rather have sat in silence. The video was a bit like something you would see explaining to a toddler what jury duty was.  I did get to watch many of the people which I do enjoy doing. I say the man who obsessively checked his phone and in lightening speed kept going through various apps.  I say the woman who was slumped over asleep.  I noticed most of the people in attendance did not dress business casual as I did so I was a bit overdressed for jury duty.  Maybe they would think I was a lawyer and not call my name.  There was the couple I sat next to who discussed playing tennis at the club on the weekends with other friends.  It was and interesting mix of DC elite, worker bees like myself (we stood out in our business attire), and regular DC people who probably grew up in DC their whole lives.

The people watching lasted about twenty minutes before my mind began to wander and the sitting started to become antsy shifting in my chair constantly. I saw many people reading newspapers or books and was wishing I had remembered to bring one.  It always takes me so long to wake up in the morning that I should have packed one the night before.  Alas, I forgot.  What I did have though is paper and pens.  As a writer, I am almost never without paper and pens.  There are even pens in my bathroom on the off chance that an idea will hit in there.  You would be amazed how many creative ideas come to an individual during solo, quiet time in the restroom.  Da Vinci probably thought up the design for the Mona Lisa, Einstein could have thought through the concept of E=MC.  Nonetheless, I pulled out my paper and my pen and actually got to do some writing.

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.  I can not remember when I was able to work on my writing for such a long period of time.  It felt so good and I got so lost in my writing that it took me a minute to realize after about an hour that the woman at the front was about to call names to sit on a panel and I would have to pay attention.  So my brain left the 1800s quickly and entered back into the stuffy, overpopulated jury lounge.  After reading names and numbers for about twenty minutes the room became almost empty because they called so many of the individuals to serve on jury panels.  After the last name was called, my name never yelled out as one of the intended to serve, I sat back and waited as everyone left.  Then in the silence of the now sparsely populated room I re-entered the realm of intrigue and suspense.

This became my sole occupation during jury duty, sitting and writing.  I never got called to a jury panel which means I spent my day sitting in the jury lounge waiting and writing.  I would have thought it a wasted day if I never had a chance to do so much writing.  Jury duty became an exciting adventure in finishing chapter thirty-one.  Though, I do not wish to have jury duty again any time soon, I am ever grateful that I finally found a time to get some real writing done without little hands pulling on paper, grabbing my pen, pulling my hair, or trying to type on the computer.  It also puts me another chapter closer to the end.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is getting very exciting.

At 2:30 the lady at the front in true Queen of Jury Duty style lavishly announced we could leave for the day and not come back. We were dismissed. I happily trot out of the courthouse without having to sit on any jury panel but a completed chapter in my bag. My many adventures in jury duty were accomplished. At least until I get called again.

Plan Distraction Action

I am knee deep and back visiting the world of 1800's Romania.  All my old friends are themselves mired in intrigues and intense, suspenseful actions in the hopes of saving their world. They know that what happens in their lives now will bring about the answer to the question, "how is this going to end?" That is the same question I am asking myself. Yes, I am the writer, the creator. Yet, as the creator you plan and you plot and you envision your story but there are often exciting twists and turns you did not predict but seemed to flow from the pen so easily it was as if the story were meant to take that path no matter what. Maybe Robert Frost took the path less traveled not because he was curious and adventure lie ahead, but rather because he had to. His life was always meant to go down the less traveled path so that he may write about it and expose its secrets.  It is how his own story pushed him to the end.

With only a few more chapters of the book left to write into the first draft I am getting more and more excited to see the words "The End".  You can not rush to the end though.  You still have to put the time and focus into the story and make sure you are giving each chapter it's worthy thought.  These chapters are the most intense for action and consequences.  These chapters are the climax of the long story I have been telling about my characters. 

With a new job and a new baby in the house though it is hard to get too engrossed into the intensity of the story.  I have to work and when my baby makes the cutest faces in the world I have to snuggle her and play with her.  Writing those intense scenes though often take great concentration.  This is hard to achieve when your seven month old baby girl sees you writing and wants to eat the paper or steal the pen or sees you typing away on the computer and believes that this is a cool toy that she wants to try and bang on or at least watch her bollywood videos on.

This month has been unusual.  I started my new job, as previously stated, where I do so much writing, the technical kind.  I also am getting used to a new weekly schedule and commuting in traffic for an hour again.  I was out of work for so long that I am grateful for the work, even though I miss my baby girl.  At the same time, it is a distraction from focusing on my writing.  Additionally, we had very intense presidential elections and, though I will not comment on who I supported, I will say it took me a week to absorb all that intensity.  In all the change, newness, and complications that life has brought, I thought about the top distractions of life and then the top ways to deal with those distractions.  If I had to pick the top five distractions in my life that pull me away from finishing my book they would be:

1.  Work
2.  Baby Leah and family time
3.  Internet
4.  Other writing ideas for blogs or poems
5.  Space Cadet Time

Those are my top five distractions that pull me away from finishing Chapter 31 right now.  So, how do I deal with these distractions so that I can get back to 1800's Romania with gypsies, curses, and crazy families?  The answer, which goes against what many post online everywhere is....I give in to the distraction.

1.  Work - I have to work to pay bills and I am not a best selling author...yet.  I get up in the morning and make the long commute and do my job and then commute home.  At work I get to do a great amount of technical writing so I look at it as an opportunity to grow my abilities as a writing by writing in different formats and styles and for different types of audiences.

2.  Baby Leah and family time - I spend time with my family. They are the ones that I love the most and want to spend my time with.  Since I work during the day I am limited in how much time I get to spend with my family so I try to soak up and relish what time I can.  It may just be sitting there and watching TV with them but I am with them so I am happy.

3.  Internet - Yes, this one could go away, but I am realistic. With Twitter and facebook and news sites and of course the cute pictures of animals, I get distracted but it is another way to relax. (I mean, who could resist this cuteness?)

4.  Other writing ideas for blogs or poems - This is a necessity to stop and write them down.  If I don't write down the idea or the poem I may forget it.  Plus, as a writer this is the continuation of my passion and work.  It could give me ideas for my current book or a new story but it is part of the work of an author to give in to other writing ideas.  It is important to remember though not to get lost in those ideas and forget about finishing your book.

5.  Space Cadet Time - Yes, this sounds crazy.  My Dad would shake his head and simply call it Heather's being a space cadet.  Sometimes when life is pulling you in so many different directions you need time to just escape into your head and process everything.  You need to space out and fly the galaxy even for a moment.  It is like hitting refresh on a web page.  Everything comes back but it may look or work better.  There are times I just need five moments of space cadet time.  It helps so that when I enter back into the story that has become action filled and intense I am able to focus more and get lost in horse drawn carriages and gypsy curses and the pain of tripping over long dresses on a dusty road.

The truth is that distractions happen so turn them into actions.  Turn your distractions into a way to recharge your battery, relax you mind or stimulate your mind, discover new ideas for stories or plot lines or even blog posts.  By thinking of your distractions as actions it may help focus your mind when you are able to set time to write again and not feel frazzled and guilty for time not devoted to your story. You are the author.  It is like a loyal puppy. It is waiting for you and will be there when you are ready to sit down and write again. 

Happy Distraction!  Happy writer!

The Truth About Being A Writer

The door opens slowly with a creak.  Are you leaving into the daylight and the unknown? As you pull the door slowly shut and hear the click of the latch, you feel an extra beat of your heart at the unknown.  What will the day bring?  Can I get through this? Is this routine or will the air electrify with something new? There so many times in our lives when we have to leave home. We walk out that door either facing adventures or routines or the unknown. We hear the door close behind us with a click of the lock and we step out.  Sometimes though the door shuts out the creative and leaves only a day of routine or worse the stank air of downward spiralling emotions.

Baby, unemployment, death, grief, depression and the return of old friends. This has been what my year has been. As those of you who read my blog may have noticed there has been a silence for a year. No posts, no news, no writings to entice nor inform. There is a truth about being a writer that many may not comprehend. At least there is a truth about this writer. Writers live, work, and breath in words and characters and stories but also emotions. When life slides downhill into more of a darkness then the writer can either find inspiration to pull themselves out and reach some understanding of what is happening or they become mired in the emotions that prevent the words from landing on paper.

This year was one of those times when it was a swirl of emotions that ran like a cacophony in my head. The sound of them pushing out the characters and stories that became friends. Sometimes a writer has to face the stark realities of life swirling around them and not revel in the stories of their characters as they watch the words fall on the paper. The emotions of their characters have no space inside the imagination with all the emotions that are reality being faced instead.

Some realities are good. When a baby is born and you watch each day as they grow.  You marvel at the beginnings of a little human struggle and learn to do the basics like roll over, sit up, and stand. You get to experience the absolute joy of their first laugh which will always remain the most melodious sound no matter how old your child gets. However, there is also the roller coaster heading down when you are unemployed, suffer the loss of a family member, and live with anxiety of the future.  Taking care of a new baby while also looking for a job became the sole existence to my days.  It left no time for writing. What little time was left was often spent dulling the brain and anything creative can not pass when that wall is up.

That is not to say that life has to be perfect for a writer to succeed.  There needs to be a level mix often. Writers often write to let go of pain, to understand anxiety, and to release the negatives through characters that become a proxy for their pain.  However, for anyone who has hiked up a hill or mountain can attest; the hard path up will eventually give way so that you have to hike easily down.  You may still have a pebble in your show or an obstacle in your path but you are no longer stretching your muscles to get through the upward climb.

The truth about being a writer is that inspiration can come from anywhere but if you are in the quicksand of emotions you can not move your arms to write and express yourself.  Sometimes you have to wait until someone comes along and offers that branch for you to grab onto to then pull yourself out.  I am again clinging to that branch. So, now when I walk out my door there is expectations of unknown possibilities and when I sit down I can now revel in the words that have flown over the wall to begin writing again.  All I can say is...Welcome Back!

The Return Brings Light At The End

"Hello."

"Did you miss me?"

"I know it has been so long."

"Don't worry though...I am back. I just had to handle life's unsolvable Rubik's cube."

Yes, I went away for a bit, both literally and figuratively.  I took a trip in August right after my last post on this blog.  I travelled overseas to London and Paris. It was an amazing experience and I even started a new blog about it, http://gypsywriteradventures.blogspot.com/, if you would like to read.  As so often happens though when you take two weeks off; you end up playing catch up for your daily life. It was a time that was busy also with major work meetings and obligations followed by personal hurdles and walls that prevented entrance of creativity.

However, today is National Poetry Day. For a writer, and especially one that writes a lot of poetry, this is truly a holiday that must be observed.  In this observation I am posting here a poem.  In addition, I am following the theme that was prompted by @PoetrydayUK on twitter, which was "Light." I hope you enjoy and there will be another new post next week. I am once again clearing out the cobwebs of my mind and writing, writing, writing.

The Doll Has Taken The Stage

I step onto the stage

The lights so bright

I can’t see you

But I know you are there

My outfit ideal

Pink tutu full, hair pulled back tight, and toes pointed

I get into position

I wait for the cue

I wait for the music to begin its slow rhythm

The first sounds float through the air

I try to move my head in turn to the music

But can not turn or stir

Instead I feel a tug

And my leg goes out

Toes pointed rigid

I feel another tug and my arms rise

And then slowly my head looks up

And I rise on my toes

Spinning round and round

Yet trying to peak

And see your face

Are you delighted?

Do you see me perform for you?

The music picks up pace as I spin

Until finally out of breath

And feeling like I can go no more

I feel the rhythm in my heartbeats

In time to the sounds begin to slow

And I feel another tug

This time I feel my arms raise over my head

And then back down

As I step lightly to the side

So swift, so cute

I can feel the heat from the lights overhead

Their brightness making it impossible

To see the beautiful faces of the audience

Or the one in the crowd

Who I yearn to see

My one light I always want

Shining on me

Finally the music stops

And everyone takes a bow

And feeling another tug

I move to the center of the stage

And pirouette in style

Amid clapping and brava

Finally I see the curtain begin its descent

Until I alone am on the stage

Picturing the other side

I feel arms wrap around me

And lift me up

I am placed on a bed

My hands crossed at my chest

And just as I look up

Into the face of the man

His eyes so dark

His face so intense

My heart beats wildly

Wanting to reach up

Unable to move

Panic setting in

Until I see him put the strings

He tied onto my back on top of my head

And the last sight I see

Before the darkness took hold

Was the lights of the stage

Screaming “The End!”

Writing in Red

I know, I know, another poem. How could I?  I had a writing inspiration and a writing feast. I couldn't stop myself. It is amazing what a little peace and time away from chaos can do. Next week's post will be the end of the short story series (I promise!!! I have it almost complete and then need to edit it.) and then it is back to the book posts. I am almost done. Two more chapters to go. Don't distract me now. 

Writing in Red Lipstick

I came home that night

Walked up the stairs slowly

Never turning on the light

Enjoying the cloak of darkness

Fearing the glaring light of reality

I did not fear the dark

It was a blanket that covered up sins and scars

It was an impassable wall

Keeping at bay the wolf who now sleeps

Down the hall from me

I know the path by memory

The memories of destruction seldom easily fade

I entered my room

Slowly closed the door

Never making a sound

Never disturbing the night into waking

Never alerting the moon

To appear from behind that cloud

And I locked the door

Knowing its fallible defense won't protect me

Refusing even now to light my path

I tip toed and stumbled

Cursing under my breath

Soundless fury, quiet shock

I walked into the bathroom

Closed the door behind me

It whispered shut

And I held my breath

The sound of nothing felt loud, screaming

My held breath releases

Like a gale force wind

I crept like a ballerina

Gliding effortlessly on my toes

I grabbed a towel, rolling it into an impenetrable roll

I laid it by the crack in the door

No light gets out, no light gets in.

I turned on the light

And looked straight into the mirror

I tried to give a smile

But it didn't change my face

Dark circles

Tear stained eyes

Red nose

Disheveled hair

Sunken cheeks

And eyes whose depths of sadness

Seemed deeper than the ocean

I clench my fist

I dried the tears with the back of my hand

I squared my shoulders

Anger now pouring out of my eyes

I stood taller somehow

Resolution!

Awareness does not always come

Wrapped in a pretty bow

Often it cuts

Like a knife

Straight into the heart

Cutting through to the bone

I grabbed for the black tube

And gave a small, angry, defiant grin

I opened the tube slowly

Turned the knob at the base

And raised it up to the mirror

taking a deep breath

Should I really?

My head snaps back up

Did you stop to think

Before you hurt me

No!

And I write my message in red lipstick

THE END!

Someday

This is a poem that has much meaning for me at this point in my life. This poem spoke to my heart and my life and flowed down through my fingers needing a voice. For anyone living in an internal darkness, I understand. For anyone surviving not living, I understand. For anyone feeling too much and then nothing at all, I understand. For anyone floating on a cloud of pain, I understand. My answer is someday. Someday I will be fine again.

Someday

Someday I will stand on the top of the mountain

And scream at the top of my voice

I’m fine!

Someday I will swim in the depths of the ocean

And scream over the sound of the waves

I'm fine!

Someday I will sit in the darkest cave

And scream as it echoes off the walls

I'm fine!

Someday I will stand under the drops of rain

And scream over each clash of thunder

I'm fine!

Someday I will lie on the cool, green grass

And scream into the vast blue of the sky

I'm fine!

Someday I will stand under the darkened sky

And scream up at the large mocking moon

I'm fine!

Someday I will sit quiet and alone

And scream into the silence

I'm fine!

Someday I will stand unmoving within the crowd

And scream into the throng

I'm fine

Someday I will return home and open the door

And scream into my sanctuary

I'm fine!

Someday I will take up my pen and put it to paper

And write out in large capitalized letters

I'M FINE!

Someday

I will look into the mirror

And see my outline

And the colors and shadows

That make me beautiful inside and out

Someday

I will look down at my scars

And see the whiteness

And healing powers

Telling me I have strength to out live my pain

Someday

I will open my eyes

After a good night's rest

And smile not cry

Telling me that joy does exist again

Someday

I will cry

But they will be tears of joy

Like a rainbow after the rain

And know that hope resides in my land again

Someday

The flowers will have color

The sun will shine

The moon will not be ominous

And I will know they are watching me even behind the clouds

Someday

I will have hunger

My fingers will ache for my pen and paper

My heart will pound with excitement

And I will know the comfort that I live again

Someday

I will think of your face and your eyes

Remembering the love I felt

Relishing in the memories

And not live the ache of pain anymore

Someday

I will be fine

Someday

I will believe this again

And from the top of the mountain

I will shout

I'm fine!