On a Wednesday afternoon, in my outdoor writing haven.
Last night, during our writing class, our instructor pulled out a manila folder filled with rejection letters and sprawled them all over the floor. There were hundreds of them in various sizes, colors and styles, but all stated pretty much the same thing: "Thank you for your submission ... But, I'm sorry ..."
As the other students and I rummaged through the letters, I felt this surge of excited anticipation I had been missing for a long while. The excited anticipation was, however, for something you probably wouldn't expect. Because it involved the one thing that is universally disliked, if not feared: rejection. But, as my fingers touched those letters sent to my instructor, who by far, is the best writing instructor I've ever had, this feeling came over me - I can't wait for my first rejection letter. Sound a little crazy? Yes, I know. But, you see, that rejection letter means something. Would mean something. Would mean I actually finished a written work - a short story, an essay, a novel - something. A finished product. And at this point, I just want a finished product.
Because at the rate I'm going, I'm never going to get there. Although I can give a detailed summary of my novel, talk about all the complex situations the characters go through and even give a short biography on all of my characters, I can't move past writing the beginning of the story. I keep re-writing it over and over again. So, as of tonight, I decided to break the rules (whatever the rules may be). I'll write the story from the middle to the end and go back to the start.
It fits so perfectly with my personality. Remember how I said that introductions make me uncomfortable? Well, apparently, writing introductions or beginnings are also challenging for me. So, let's see how I do with this new rule-breaking strategy. Start with the middle. Wish me luck! I do want to finish this novel already.
I haven't worked on my novel in awhile. It feels as if I haven't worked on anything creative in a long time. My brain is devoid of ideas and imagination.
When I was a kid, I loved to make up stories and act them out. In fact, before I wanted to be a lawyer or a writer, I wanted to be an actress. A dancer. A performer of stories. And I just made up a whole lot of things. I had an imagination that was on constant overdrive.
But lately, in fact, for quite awhile now, I've had this block where my imagination once roamed freely. I have even lost the desire to tell a story.
And yet, I want to feel the need to tell a story again.
So, I decided to go back and read the original excerpts of my novel. The diary-like entries that were written while I was in the midst of the heartbreak I was writing about. Those pieces were the real thing. The raw emotions that inspired the story. My muse. I thought that if I wanted to finish my novel, I needed to remember those feelings. Feel. Them. Again.
But, as I read page after page, I felt ... nothing. I wasn't overcome with nostalgia. I wasn't overcome with sadness over this significant heartbreak. I wasn't overcome with feelings of regret and loss. I didn't feel anything. But, honestly, a little bored. I didn't even feel bad for the old me that went through that significant heartbreak that made it difficult to breathe at times. Nothing.
Time does heal our wounds. Even very deep ones. And it is possible to get over someone. It is possible to have loved and lost, and moved on.
And so, maybe this is the best time to go back to that story. Because now, I can work on it from a purely creative perspective, rather than the perspective of the heartbroken in need of therapeutic venting. I can practice using my imagination once again. Refuel my creative energy.
My mind is still devoid of ideas and imagination though. So, how do I work through that?
Listen to some U2. This song does it for me all the time. Never fails.
Just because I don't have time to write these days doesn't mean I can't seek out encouragement, right? The perfectionist in me needs this constant reminder:
Whenever I decide to let go, a force inside of me refuses. That's when I know, it has a become a part of me. Or maybe, always has been.
Accept the conflict, my friend said. You can't be one without the other. The balance of the two is what makes you whole. Embrace it. Be a lawyer. Be a writer.And the people who love you will understand. Even when your time with them is limited by the pursuit of this work. Work it.
And that's why I love them. :)
“You must be the person you have never had the courage to be.
Gradually, you will discover that you are that person,
but until you can see this clearly, you must pretend and invent.”
-Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes
It's amazing when things fall into place. When you realize that everything you've been through was meant to happen, so you'd end up here. Where you're meant to be.
This morning I woke up tired exhausted. And since I've been falling asleep much earlier than my usual bedtime (I actually passed out on the couch the other night), I knew that something was off. So, I made the decision to take a personal day (one of the perks of working on my own), and forced myself out of bed. Then, I dragged my feet to the kitchen, and made myself a green smoothie.
In the last year, the green smoothie has been the best armor in my times of need. Or those times I just needed a pick-me-up. Or just whenever.
I remember reading about it from different blogs, but decided to finally try it out after watching a documentary on Kris Carr almost a year ago. After that, I went to the market, bought a bag of spinach, bananas, blueberries and flax seed. Every day for four months, I made myself a green smoothie for breakfast. And it changed my life. I didn't get any asthma attacks during the winter season and I actually stopped drinking coffee. Now the latter was not even a conscious decision I made. Weeks after drinking the green smoothie every day, I realized I had not had a cup of coffee. And my body didn't crave for it. I actually had energy. And my eating habits changed. I seemed to eat a lot more but my body was pickier about what I ate - I craved for veggies and fruits and more veggies. I felt like a changed woman.
But, after four months of daily commitment to the green smoothie, I began to stray. Or just got lazy. So, I'd have it a couple of times a week rather than everyday. And lately, I've been having it only once a week, if that. So, when I felt exhausted this morning, I knew my body needed the green smoothie. And I was right. I feel much better.
Anyhow, just in case you're interested, here's the green smoothie recipe (and I'm not a health expert by any means, but not only did the green smoothie give me energy and immunized me from any asthma related symptoms last winter, but also improved the texture of my skin and my uncle keeps telling me that it has brightened my eyes, which makes me look much younger than I already do):
2 cups (or handful) of spinach (sometimes, I use kale to mix it up) 1 banana (can also add blueberries, mangoes, pineapple, or whatever fruit you want to add) 1 tablespoon of flax seed 1 cup of water (or milk, soy, or Almond) ice
... and just blend away.
Okay, I know it doesn't look as good, but it really is delish and refreshing!
And because the title of this blog calls for it: I've been writing a lot more this week. On Sunday, I had a writing class with this amazing author and after speaking to him, I realized that I had become very regimented in my writing - (what can I say, I think it's the lawyer in me). I mean this author didn't tell me my writing was regimented, but listening to him and the way his mind just created scenes and characters awed me, and I thought, I think I used to be able to do that. So, when I got home, I pulled out all of my writing notebooks from college, and read through them. I was right. I wasn't as regimented. So, afterwards, I looked around the room, and just started scribbling words that sparked something in me, and then, scenes began to develop, and characters were born. Before I knew it, I had pages filled of ideas and stories that I wanted to write. It felt amazing. My little joys in life.
Here's how my evenings have been looking like lately:
November will be a busy month. First, it's National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and so, I thought that it's a good way to challenge and discipline myself to commit to writing everyday. Commit to finishing the novel I've been telling myself I'll finish for the last seven plus years. Also, I'm supposed to submit three pieces for my writing group submission party/challenge by Thanksgiving, and I'm still at zero. I know, I really need to get going on this thing. So, in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, I will commit to writing. Everyday. (Sorry, if you hear a lot of this kind of ranting for the month, but I sometimes use this blog as a my drawing board/inspiration page - and if I write it here, it pushes me to do it since I'm telling all of you that I'm going to.)
And it's as if I wasn't busy enough with writing a novel (and writing classes), but I thought I'd participate in a winter Book Challenge, too. If you're interested in participating, I included the rules and categories on a separate page above, so check it out. I know it's crazy, but I also know that to be a good writer, I must be an avid reader (and not just an avid reader of case law and statutes and investigation reports). I must be an avid reader of stories. Different genre of stories, and thus, my commitment to the Book Challenge.
With all of that said, my job, of course, keeps me busy. And since it's what pays the bills and supports my writing classes and artistic passion, I need to keep working hard at it, which leaves very little time for anything else (but my loves, of course). However, I'm having fun and that's the point of it all, right?
Anyhow, I can't believe it's already November in a few hours! This has been quite a year - awesome in many respects, but very challenging, too. There has been many ups, but also many downs. But, I'm happy to report that I've kept up with the promise I made myself at the beginning of the year, and that's to keep moving. Because during the very "down times," it's easy to curl up on the couch and hide from the world. I didn't want to do that, and thus, I created my list of challenges - the things I wanted to do whether it's to hike every Saturday morning or take a writing class or take photographs of the sky - to keep myself moving. Forward. And I've found that with each move, each step, not only brought more smiles to my face but the calm and at-ease feeling of I'm right where I belong.
Now, again, because it's NaNoWriMo starting tomorrow, I thought I'd share this list I found about why we'll always need a good story:
Ten Reasons Why We'll Always Need a Good Story by Scott Russell Sanders
1. We delight in stories because they are a playground for language, an arena for exercising this extraordinary power. 2. Stories create community. They link teller to listeners, and listeners to one another. 3. Stories help us to see through the eyes of other people. Through stories we reach across the rifts not only of gender and age, but also of race and creed, geography and class, even the rifts between species or between enemies. 4. Stories show us the consequences of our actions. To act responsibly, we must be able to foresee where our actions might lead; and stories train our sight. 5. Stories educate our desires. Instead of playing on our selfishness and fear, stories give us images for that which is truly worth seeking, worth having, worth doing. 6. Stories help us dwell in place. Stories of place help us recognize that we belong to the earth, blood and brain and bone, and that we are kin to other creatures. 7. Stories help us dwell in time. History is public, a tale of influences and events that have shaped the present; the mind's time is private, a flow of memory and anticipation that continues, in eddies and rapids, for as long as we are conscious. Narrative orients us in both kinds of time, public and private. 8. Stories help us deal with suffering, loss, and death. Stories reek with our obsession with mortality. 9. Stories teach us how to be human. We are creatures of instinct, but not solely of instinct. More than any other animal, we must learn how to behave. 10. Stories acknowledge the wonder and mystery of Creation. [They] give us hope of finding meaning within the great mystery.
But hey, someone told me that anything worth doing can be tough. Embarking on a new relationship can be tough. (Is tough.) Starting a new job, going to college, and well, high school can be tough. But, the thing is, I'm trying to be a writer, and it's tough. A writer said that the thing about writing, no one cares if we do it or not. The world moves on whether we write our novel or we don't. But we care, okay, I care, and we (writers, to-be-writers, I) is alone in that caring. Thus, writing is a lonely passion. We're alone for hours at a time with our words, thoughts, ideas, and characters. All these words, thoughts, ideas and characters we care so much about but, no one else really does. I know this is sounding really depressing, and that's not my intention at all. Because honestly, even during its hardest times, I can't help but love it. And actually, during the hardest times, the loneliest times, I realize more than ever just how much I really love it. It's a part of me that I can't really make anyone else understand, and that, I have to accept.
I've been taking a lot of long walks since I arrived in New York, and at the beginning of each walk, doubts, insecurities, and questions about what the heck am I thinking doing this, enter my mind. But, as I continue to walk, whether it's in the middle of Washington Square Park or the busy streets of Soho, the doubts, insecurities and questions begin to fade until the only thing left is my love for the story. For the words, and the characters, and for the desire for them to be known. Yes, no one's life, including my own, depends on whether I write a novel, this novel, or not. But, I do it anyway. I want to do it anyway. And to me that's love.
So, I'm on this soundtrack quest. Creating a new soundtrack for my book ... writing. I've somewhat changed the story since I first started it (many years ago), and well, I've changed since I started it, so, I thought that I should create a new soundtrack.
(And well, since I've been watching a lot of Felicity lately, thought I'd post this video with the song.)
So, where does this song fall in the book ...? Hmmm, I think beginning of Act II.
I ... I can't get these memories out of my mind. And some kind of madness Has started to evolve.
And I ... I tried so hard to let you go. But some kind of madness Is swallowing me whole, yeah.
I have finally seen the light. And I ... have finally realized What you mean.
And now, I need to know is this real love Or is it just madness Keeping us afloat?
And when I look back, at all the crazy fights we had, Like some kind of madness Was taking control.
And now I have finally seen the light, And I ... have finally realized, What you need.
And now I have finally seen the end, (Finally seen the end) And I'm ... I'm expecting you to care, (Expecting you to care) And I ... have finally seen the light, (Finally seen the light) And I ... have finally realized, (Realized)
I need to love I need to love
Come to me, Trust in your dream, Come on and rescue me. Yes, I know, I can't be wrong Baby, you're too head-strong Our love is ....
Ma-ma-ma-mad-mad-madness.
I think I've mentioned more than enough times how I listen to music when I write, and how I even create "soundtracks" for my stories. So, anyhow, the other day, I was in my car and this song came on. I've heard it before but never really listened to it until that day. I guess it came on at just the right time as I was going over a scene from my book in my head, and well, I have to be honest here and say that lately, I've had a hard time writing. I've been stuck on fragmented scenes. They're not flowing. I know it's because I've been really busy with work so the book has been in the back burner for awhile, but I'm trying really hard to not let it stay there too long because I know how difficult it is to go back to it. Thus, when I'm in my car, and can't do any legal work, I brainstorm. I write in my head. But for awhile, I had been going over the same fragmented, shallow scenes in circles. I hit a wall. I just had scenes with not much emotion. And I need emotions! I need to feel it to write it. And I hadn't been feeling it. Then, this song came on. And bam! I heard. I finally listened. To the music. To the words. And the scene just came together. It's as if this song was written for my character. And I saw it, I heard it ... playing during that turning point in her story when she finally realized what she had been doing wrong, and she finally saw what she needed to do: love him.
But, loving him can mean many things. So, you'd have to read the book to find out what that means for her. :)
It's officially fall. Yay! I remember as a student, I didn't care much for summers. I looked forward to fall, and the new school year. But, it's been many, many years since I've actually been a student, so I thought, why not go back? To school.
Okay, I'm not officially going back to school, but am going to take some writing classes again next month. I realized that I need it. It gives me inspiration, and it makes me feel more alive when I'm around other writers. And since I've been in this quest for learning, I've been going back and reading through the anthologies I kept from college.
I was an English major, but honestly, I felt like a fraud most of the time. I was an English major, who didn't have much time to read and write. I worked two to three jobs at a time all throughout college, and thus, working 40-plus hours a week and taking a full course load, was a little tough. As much as I wanted to immerse myself in the literary college world, I couldn't. I just needed to get through school, and on with the next phase of my life.
So sadly, when I think of college, that's what I remember. Working. When all I really wanted was to be a student. An English major, who sat in the library or on the school lawn for hours, reading. Or writing. And maybe, that's why I've been looking through those anthologies. Because I felt I missed a lot of it the first time around, and I know I must have kept them for a reason. So that maybe one day, I could go back to those stories and poems, and immerse myself in them.
Or maybe, I just needed to go back to those anthologies so I'd remember.
Remember why I love(d) literature. Because as I touched and looked through the pages of those anthologies, I realized that maybe I wasn't so out-of-touch with the literary world after all. I saw the sentences I underlined and the notes I made on the margins, and remembered how I loved Beowulf and Paradise Lost. And as I looked through the books on my bookshelf, I remembered why I fell in love with Baldwin and Wright. Why Tolstoy's Anna Karenina touched me in such an unexpected way. And why poems have a way of speaking to me and making me understand the things that didn't make sense.
I underlined and highlighted this line in Beowulf: "Fate often saves an undoomed man when his courage is good." Interesting. I wonder what I must have been thinking of when I underlined, highlighted and put a star next to that sentence.
Anyhow, I'm excited for this season. For my new school term. (wink wink) For my upcoming trip to DC and the Big Apple. And to hopefully finishing a draft of my book.
I just want to come clean and state for the record that I'm not a Twilight fan. I don't understand what all the hype was about. The movie, the story, the characters (actors) just didn't do it for me. But, Vampire Diaries ... that's a different story. My obsession started last June (three seasons late) after spending an exhausting afternoon with my niece, her new baby and my nephew. I came home completely wiped out. Beyond exhausted. And all I wanted to do was sprawl down on my couch and watch TV. Since my sister-in-law had been gushing about Vampire Diaries, thought I'd check it out. I signed up for Netflix, and waaaapooooosh, I was up until midnight watching the show. Yes, I've caught up and have watched all three seasons in a matter of months. (Actually, I watched it in a matter of weeks ... but shhhhh, I don't want anyone thinking I'm that obsessive and that I don't have much of a life. Besides, season 3 just came out ... again, what does that say about me?)
It got me wondering though about what it is about these shows that intrigue us (or people like me - whatever that means or may be). Is it the pretty hot characters who play brothers on the show? Hmmm, I was so pulled into the story that it got me thinking who I would pick if two brothers were in love with me? The good boy or the bad boy? I swear, I do have a life, but sometimes, it's just so interesting living in some make-believe world where vampire brothers are in love with the same girl. Right?
Then, I realized it's the stories and the characters - that's what pulls me into the show. And I thought, that's because of good writing - storytelling - and great actors. If the writers and actors can pull the audience into their make-believe world and make it seem real, then they've done their job. Exceptionally well.
As you know, I've been working on my book, and have actually shared pieces of it to other students and a few friends. A couple of people gave me this comment that I've taken to heart: make us fall in love with him. Him, meaning the guy my main character is in love with. So, during my writing nights, I'd sit in my balcony, with laptop in front of me and earphones in my ears listening to the soundtrack I created for my character's story. And I'd write. About him. The crazy thing is that the more I write about this fictional character, I find that I'm falling in love with him, too. I told my friend that the weird thing is that this character is like no one I know. He was inspired by someone I was once in love with, but the more I write about him (the fictional character), I find that he's nothing like the person he was inspired by. The good thing about this writing process though is that it gave me closure on past loves and broken hearts. How's that, you may wonder? Well, I realized what it is I want and am looking for in a life partner, and who is right for me. My past loves just weren't it.
Okay, I digressed again. But anyhow, I can't wait for season 4 to start! And you know, this time, I'm rooting for the good guy. Not that the "bad boy" is that bad. He's the bad boy with a good-in-him kind. Again, we're talking vampires here. And well, he's hot with mesmerizing eyes, but the good guy (who I should mention can turn crazy evil, too - remember, vampire) is good. He loves her. Well, they both do. But, he really loves her. And I may digress again here, but I just remembered this question my cousin asked me (based on a song) - who would you choose? The one you love or the one who loves you?
Honestly, I didn't understand that question before. When it was asked. But, now I do. Before Vampire Diaries, I should add. I'm not that out of touch with the real world.
"- everything is fiction. When you tell yourself the story of your life, the story of your day, you edit and rewrite and weave a narrative out of a collection of random experiences and events. Your conversations are fiction. Your friends and loved ones - they are characters you have created. And your arguments with them are like meetings with an editor - please, they beseech you, you beseech them, rewrite me. You have a perception of the way things are, and you impose it on your memory, and in this way you think, in the same way that I think, that you are living something that is describable. When of course, what we actually live, what we actually experience - with our senses and our nerves - is a vast, absurd, beautiful, ridiculous chaos.
"So I love hearing from people who have no time for fiction. Who read only biographies and popular science. I love hearing about the death of the novel. I love getting lectures about the triviality of fiction, the triviality of making things up. As if that wasn't what all of us do, all day long, all life long. Fiction gives us everything. It gives us our memories, our understanding, our insight, our lives. We use it to invent ourselves and others. We use it to feel change and sadness and hope and love and to tell each other about ourselves. And we all, it turns out, know how to do it." (Everything is Fiction, by Keith Ridgway, The New Yorker.)
If you want to read the entire article, click here.
I'm sitting here trying to write a query/pitch letter for my book as an assignment for class. But I feel stuck. I don't know what to write. So, I started browsing through old blog posts, and I came across this post I wrote on August 22, 2010 - almost two years ago. I think it's poignant for what I've been going through lately, so, I thought I'd re-post it. Birthdays have a way of making me nostalgic, and sometimes, question the decisions I've made. But, reading this, I realized, that the choices we make shouldn't confine us. They don't confine us. Because we are always at a crossroads. We will always be faced with choices, where we have to make a decision - one or the other. Or maybe later. But, that's the exciting thing about life, I think. We don't really know what is behind Door A or Door B, until we go through one. Or the other.
crossroads
The other day, my friend asked me if I regret going to law school. She asked if I could go back in time, would I do it all over again?
We were talking about writing at that time. She is one of the few people in my life with whom I share my passion for writing.
So, I told her the truth. Yes. I would. I would still go to law school. Even knowing how difficult law school was (is), and how that first year was miserable, I would still do it all over again.
Because the thing is, even though I constantly write (here) about how I just want to be a writer, well, I also wanted to be a lawyer. And glad that I am.
Ten years ago, I made the decision to go to law school. But it was not a decision I made hastily. I really thought about it. A lot. I took two years off after college to think about it. And by thinking about it, I did the two things I loved. I worked in a law office doing the only area of law I really wanted to practice. And I wrote. I took screenwriting classes, worked as a reader for a producer, and I wrote. At the end of the two years, I chose law school.
I shared with my friend how the summer before I started school, the producer I was working for told me that he set up a meeting with someone (another producer) who was interested in hearing about the screenplay I was writing. Talk about decisions. Opportunities. Crossroads. But well, being 25 and a little immature for my age (not to mention intimidated and scared), I made the decision not to go. I didn't even finish the screenplay. And for a long time after I wondered what would have happened if this producer had read my screenplay, liked it, and made something (ah, a movie) out of it. Would I have still gone to law school?
And the answer I always came up with was yes.* Because I love the practice of law. Although my grandma often tells me how she doesn't like the profession I chose (because of course, I don't get to spend as much time with her as I would like, as well), I love what I do. I believe in what I do. Yes, I work a lot. Do I feel that I oftentimes miss out on parties and dinners and special occasions? Of course. Do I feel bad? Absolutely. But I also know that a part of life is taking responsibility for our choices. Being an attorney is taking responsibility for my cases - my clients. And if that means having to work even when I'd rather be doing anything other than that, I have to. (And who is to say that I would not be as busy if I chose a career in writing?)
Life is a constant decision. Some decisions are small. Some big. Some life-changing. I think back at my 25 year old self, and although I still think I was quite immature for my age, I also think that even in my immature state, I knew that just because I chose one (law school) did (does) not mean I can't one day pursue the other (writing). Maybe a meeting with a producer would not come as easily now as it did then. But again, who knows? Maybe a better opportunity awaits me later. Whatever my reasons, I just knew that I needed to be a lawyer first. That going to law school and being a lawyer was something I needed to do. Then. And now. So, I don't regret my decision. Not at all.
*So, I know that the decision not to meet with the producer was more because I just wasn't ready to be a writer then. But I think I am now.
Sorry for all the music posts. But when I write, I always look for music to inspire me. To evoke certain images and emotions that I want to convey. (I even make soundtracks for my stories. And my characters.)
Anyhow, Ben Harper has this voice that makes me want to close my eyes, and just sway. Surrender to the music. And when I do, the story just comes to me.
I found this cover that Ben Harper did. And wow! That's all I can say. But, I can write for another couple of hours. :)
I wasn't going to take another writing class until Fall because I wanted to give myself a break, i.e. focus on work. Then, during Sunday's service about facing the future, about putting things off for a tomorrow that might not be there, I decided, I've put off my writing long enough. I've ran out of excuses why I shouldn't just do it.
So, there I was, in class, late last night, tired from a long, eventful weekend and a long Monday at the office. I know that the reason I didn't want to take another class for awhile was because I was afraid of exhausting myself, spreading myself too thin, and failing. At everything. Because I've spread myself too thin.
But, then I remembered, I've done worst than this. Worked two or three jobs at a time while carrying a full load at school. Writing poems and short stories at 3 a.m. while I had to be at work four hours later. Working eight hours a day, then going to class, only to return to work for another couple of hours. I know I wasn't an attorney then. I have more responsibilities now and much more at stake. But again, I also have years of maturity and wisdom that I didn't have at 21.
The thing is, I told my best friend yesterday during the drive to class, I've put off a lot of things. Waiting for a certain life that just didn't or hasn't happened. And there's nothing I can do about that or the time I wasted waiting. But, I can do something about this. Right now. And I just don't want to put it off anymore. I love to write. I love to create with words. I love seeing a story evolve on paper. I love taking something as simple as a coffee mug and creating a story about it. I love being able to describe the wrinkles on my character's dress and how it got there. I love that I can find a story in everything.
I love art. It's what fuels the fire inside of me. And honestly, for a long time, that fire was dead. I felt dead. But now, since I started taking these writing classes, being around writers, and just the mere fact that I'm writing, I feel alive again. Back in my skin.
But I also understand where my dear loved ones are coming from. They worry that something else has occupied my time. For years, they competed with law school and then, my job. And the fact that I'm super-busy also means less of a social life. Thus, they really worry. But, I repeated the pastor's sermon: Don't be anxious for nothing. Don't be anxious about tomorrow.
And, in my own words, I reassured them, I shall not be idle. And as absurd as this may sound, God has always told me, I'm going to marry an artist.
Replica of how I look most nights and mornings these last couple of weeks. Minus the fancy wardrobe and decor, of course. And the beautiful curls.
Last night was the last day of my writing class series. And before we all parted, we read this quote by Anne Lamott:
"E.L. Doctorow once said that 'Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.' You don't have to see where you're going, you don't have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have heard." (Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life)
This morning, as I carried my multiple book bags (one filled with client files and the other with notebooks filled with drafts of my story), down the stairs of my apartment, this feeling came over me - I have no idea what tomorrow or the next day or the next week or the next year will bring. I can fall flat on my face. Completely fail. Have people hate my work. Never get anything published. I can try and fail. And feel horrible. And rejected. Or I can not try at all so that I never have to feel that sense of rejection and failure. But, I want to keep trying. I want to keep writing. I want to keep doing this. Right now, I'm just loving this process. Of writing again. Of being immersed in this world of writers. And right now, I'm just going to embrace that as much as I can.
I'm leaving it up to God to take care of tomorrow.
Funny how a little fellow can teach me so much. Can bring me back to the person that I am.
Jordan wrote a story the other day. He was mighty proud because it was over 600 words (according to the word count on the computer). And as my family and I gathered around to listen to him read it to us, I thought, here's my little writer. He doesn't have to wait for one day to be a writer; he's already a writer. An amazing writer. At six years old. And I reminded him of that: you're a great writer, babe. (Yep, he's my babe.) Keep writing.
That day, I learned these things from Jordan:
(1)Be proud of your voice. He read that story with such conviction. He didn't let the giggles from the room sway him; he kept on reading.
(2) Tell the stories you want to tell, and in the way you want to tell them. There's always basketball in Jordan's stories. But he can tell a basketball story in many different ways.
(3) Just write. Let your creativity flow. When I got to my mom's house on the 4th, Jordan was on the computer typing away. When I went over to say hello to him, he told me that he was writing a story and I couldn't read it until he was done. Then, he went back to his writing. He was in a zone. No one could disturb him.
(4) Just write and the story will come. Although Jordan finally learned to write in sentences, using punctuation marks, he still doesn't do paragraph breaks. So, the story was one long paragraph. But that long paragraph had a story. It had characters. It had dialogue. It had conflict. It had a resolution. And it even had a lesson. Patience. Pretty amazing, huh?
(5) Know what you love and do it. At six, Jordan knows he loves to read and write. And he loves basketball. Sometimes, we have to pull him away from the computer or from all the notebooks that he has compiled. (He started writing journals when he was four.) Sometimes, we have to tell him that he can't keep dribbling the ball or spend so many hours practicing his shots. That he has to do something else. Sometimes, we try to get him to play other sports or play games with the other kids. But, he's adamant. His love is basketball. It's the only sport he wants to play. And he loves to read and write. Playing games with other kids is just not his thing. It bores him. He loves to create stories. That's what he wants to do. And the other day, I thought, why not just let him? I realized that what you want to be when you're young, before all the pressures and influences of life, before you've been disappointed and told you can't do that, is really a reflection of your true self. The purest, truest YOU.
