Going Back to School

Photo by Laura Bear

I haven't had a computer for two weeks, so this is an overdue blog post. Thankfully, Red Barn Computers gave me a loaner so I can look forward to the beginning of the editorial process for my upcoming novel WHERE THE HEART LANDS without fear and trepidation (at least as far as tools are concerned).

Today we are cooking down the mountain of tomatoes from the garden into tomato jam (abnormally intoxicating with goat cheese on crackers--thank you, Amy, for the recipe!). This infusion of tomato, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, lime and red pepper is weaving an olfactory sensation throughout the house. The weather is cooler and cloudier than predicted--perfect for canning! Why is it not called "jarring?" We will be jarring the tomatoes today. Okay, not nearly as appealing). I can't show you a before-photo of the tomatoes because some photo files are missing from the loaner computer (of course!). Instead, here's a shot of the upper pond at Oakley Corners State Forest from about this time last year.

I am excited about beginning the "real work" on my novel for publication (any writing is real work in my book, she says with a wink). It's fitting that my calendar begins with the new school year. I've always felt like fall is a time for transformation, new beginnings, and NEW BOOKS. As a person who has gone back to school probably too many times, I always have that sense of adventure and anticipation when September rolls around. I was one of those people that loved to buy the more expensive, brand-new books for college courses, because they were unmarked and smelled like fresh glue. I did get smarter about buying used books later in my back-to-school career and even learned to love to read other people's notes in the margins (still hated to have other people's highlighting--I'll mark up my own books, thank you very much!). In any event, new books (books that may be old, but are new to you) are the equivalent of chocolate, wine, a cherished gift, a surprising award, a new bicycle, a new guitar, or, yes, good sex.

Speaking of such, if you like romance, especially unusual, historical romance with strong female protagonists, or you just like to read about the writing process, check out my friend Elena Greene's article Writing Process-No Chasing Trends at riskyregencies.com. She even gives me a nod. I didn't even have to ply her with desserts or alcoholic beverages. Thank you, Elena! I will be writing about my process there, too, in the near future.

So, it was a wonderful summer, but autumn has its own rewards. May you also find yours.

Thoughts of the Week: Depression

Photo by Laura Bear

The Chris Thater Bicycle race is coming up in a couple weeks. It's a big deal around here because it brings in the pros as well as gives the amateurs a spotlight. There's a running race first then the bikes go. Here's a photo from last year to give you the sense of break-neck speed the pro-men achieve hitting the tight corners of the course. They changed to venue to a different location this year. It used to be based in a park. The course circled the park so spectators could hang out in the middle or on their front porches on the outside, and watch as cyclists completed each lap. This year, it is supposed to be held in downtown Binghamton. Not sure how this will work, but I'll let you know later.

Some sad things happened in the past week. I was struck the deepest by Robin Williams' death at his own hand. Robin Williams was a bicycle fan, which wins points for me, as well as a seemingly good and kind person and a jaw-dropping, cyclone-speed, sharp-witted comedian and talented dramatic actor. You don't have to search far on the internet to find examples of his kindness and his wit, as well as his work. This only makes the circumstances of his death all the more difficult for us to understand. Here was a man who had it all, right? Fame, fortune, a loving family, a beloved public personality. Yet, he suffered from depression. Watching him interact with Koko the gorilla on a recently shared you-tube video displayed a compassion and sensitivity that one rarely sees from public figures of late. I am pretty sure that Robin Williams understood the beauty of life, so why would he take his own?

Of course, I cannot begin to answer that question for Robin Williams, because I didn't know him. But, depression is a disease with a tremendous outreach. Being or living with a depressed person can be extremely difficult. Because depression is not rational. Depression is more than feeling "down." Depression is not a lack of being able to keep your chin up when things go bad. It is a chemical imbalance, a physical change in the brain that causes irrational thoughts and feelings and physical symptoms, such as fatigue and insomnia and irritability and crying or laughing or feeling suicidal or extremely, gravely hopeless for no specific reason. Yet, depressed people can still laugh. They may even seem okay most of the time. Perhaps people who are more sensitive to life's beauty and life's horrors are more vulnerable than most, but I would argue that anyone with a brain has the potential to get the disease. I have read that depression is anger turned inward. Maybe this is partially true, but this makes it sound like one can simply decide to express anger more outwardly and all will be well. As someone who has struggled with depression, I can tell you that this is not the case, although talking about it with someone who is trained to respond appropriately, or just someone who will simply listen, can help, at least for a little while. If only treatment were so simple.There are many triggers: a tragic event, a death in the family, divorce or any other loss, stroke, surviving a life-threatening illness, brain injury. But, sometimes there is no trigger. Sometimes, no matter how well we take care of ourselves, our brains betray us and we are left bewildered and shaken. We are alone in a crowd. No one truly understands. We want to stop feeling this way, but nothing we try seems to work. How does one stop that feeling of drowning over and over again, despite the life jackets floating just out of reach on the water? And then we reach one, but a rogue wave overtakes us anyway and we lose the life preserver. And then we get tired. Get the picture?

So, what can we do for someone who suffers this disease? What can the people who love them do for themselves? Don't be afraid to talk about it, would be a good start. Recognize it for what it is. Try not to place blame on anyone. Get help, this may include meds, so what? You take meds for other diseases, don't you? Give support. Accept support. Take care of your needs. Seek the company of others. Express your inner beauty. Acknowledge your vulnerabilities. Educate yourself. Get help. Get help. Get help. Find something that gives you reprieve that doesn't cause more damage. Physical activity, writing, meditation and medication work for me. For those who care, don't blame yourself if you can't save that person. Sometimes the disease wins.

RIP, Mr. Williams.

Photo by Laura Bear

Taking the Scenic Route to Writing Success

Photo by Laura Bear

Bought a new bicycle last week! A touring bike. Yep, not too easy to find any more, but they had one in my size at Babcock's Bicycles. Got an old- school leather saddle for it and everything. Isn't it pretty? (See below). I've been having fun breaking it in. No, I didn't have it when we rode around Schoodic Point in Maine (see right), but I would love to take it up there next time we go.

I like the touring bike because it forces me to ride differently. It's not really built for speed, although it rolls very nicely. It's built for comfort--and for hauling gear. Just right for an all day ride in the Finger Lakes or on the packed gravel of the Pine Creek Gorge trail or some such thing. I can carry my lunch. Real lunch, not Cliff bars. I can carry the SLR camera (or my spouse can). I can carry camping gear or just some clothes to change into so we can stay overnight somewhere. I can enjoy the scenery. I can ride all day. I can go places I would never go on my fast, light road bike with skinny tires. It's all about the journey on a touring bike.

Speaking of journeys, as you may or may not know, I have been on a writing journey. Ever since I was old enough to write a sentence, I have been writing for--well, if not fun--then for the overwhelming desire to do so. I wrote "books" on the connected computer paper my father brought home from work when I was in grade school. The paper was enormous, but made great books because the pages were already "bound" by little perforated lines holding all the pages together. One side was all white with no lines (great for adding illustrations), the other was lined in light green and white and you could open the whole thing up, accordion-style, to make one long banner. I think I was in third or fourth grade when I wrote my first "novel" on regular notebook paper (I must not have had access to a typewriter). Maybe I was a little older, but I remember handing it to my best friend Emily to read. I even made a cover for it, hand-drawn with embellished curly-cues around the title: Death Around the Corner. It was a murder-mystery. I was pretty dramatic then and liked to read scary stories and Nancy Drew. It was terrible, but Emily said she liked it (best friend, remember?).

I wrote poems to get me through high school and early college. I even started a degree in English and Journalism, but got sidetracked by fear and other things. Writing was scary. What if I wasn't good enough? What if I couldn't make a living? Maybe I should get a "real" job. So, I went to nursing school, got married, had a baby, worked as a nurse for many years, got divorced, went back to school to get a graduate degree in speech language pathology/communication disorders. That's what I do now. I wrote a few articles, even had one published. I piled words into journals, but I didn't have the courage to really work at it, until...well, let's just say there were too many serendipitous events happening that shouted, scolded, and swore at me--you are a writer. Like it or not, published or not, that's what I am. I can call myself a writer now without fear. And I have a book coming out next year. My first published novel. (Please allow me to introduce my publisher again: www.unsolicitedpress.com).

I can't wait for the editing to begin next month. I am working on my next book. It's been a long journey, but I'm ready for it now. I have my touring bike.

Spirit Ritual

Photo by Laura Bear

I have been re-reading a wonderful book by Marianne Williamson called Everyday Grace. Any trip along the Maine coast always brings spirit very close to the surface for me and I want to carry that sense of communion with me in my daily life.

In Everyday Grace, Williamson talks about the importance of ritual. Not empty ritual, devoid of conscious awareness (that paying attention thing again), but, as Williamson writes, "a commitment of the heart" during ceremony. She writes that "marriage, when placed in a sacred context, is not just a 'piece of paper'" and going to a funeral and saying prayers for the dead and for their loved ones creates a sort of blanket of caring. Or as Williamson calls it, "a field of blessings." Graduations, milestone birthdays, anniversaries, the birth of a child: these are all events that rely on ritual to express great emotion and to mark the importance of the relationships they represent. You don't need to be religious to recognize the importance of spirit in our lives. Even if you don't believe in God, you can't really deny that human beings are designed to be stirred by beauty and to desire love and connection with other people.

Although not all my writing is inspired, I try to approach writing as a spiritual experience. Maybe just with myself, but also, hopefully, with a reader. Many writers have their own rituals for getting ready to write. Granted, sometimes you can get lost in the process and not get to the writing! Some of us get up before sunrise and brew a cup of coffee to drink while writing before work (not me!). Some of us wait until the drama of the day has settled and write in the evening before bed with a cup of tea. Some of us need a stretch of days with few interruptions to get into the meat of the writing. Some of us don't have that luxury and write in quick bursts whenever we have a spare ten minutes. But, most of us have a preferred way to begin: the right spot, certain lighting, visible mementos to decorate our writing space, a special pen or keyboard, a short meditation or a review of notes just before we begin, etc. I always seem to have a cat on my desk, so it's become a part of my process, with the dog at my feet. The ritual, the certain things we do to get us in the right frame of mind, are essential to the process.

Ritual is essential to spiritual awareness. Whether you do it for yourself, or most often, for someone else, the action symbolizes the importance of connection. Back to Williamson again, who says, " a sacred ritual--even something as simple as lighting a prayer candle every morning--can make a tremendous difference in the quality of our lives".

How do you take care of your spirit? I hope very well. Thank you for stopping in.

Paying Attention and Refueling the Muse

Photo by Kevin Tomasello

We just got back from a trip to Acadia National Park in Maine. This was a much-needed vacation after several stressful months at the day job. We met some friends up there who spent the first part of their journey hiking up Mount Katahdin in Baxter State Park. We opted out of that hike due to my bum knee and my husband's doubts about whether he could make it up and back in a reasonable amount of time. This allowed us some time to explore the lesser traveled roads of Schoodic Pennisula and the surrounding area. Winter Harbor and Schoodic and the small lobstering village of Corea were stunning, to say the least. We took the scenic route on our bicycles. We had been to the other parts of Acadia before--one earlier year we got married on a former fishing boat in Frenchman's Bay and met Jen and Eddie and Mack Ten. We were fortunate to be able to see and talk to Jen again, although we did not get to take her out to dinner as we had hoped due to our poor planning. Jen was the one who married us and helped set up the wedding by sea, complete with decorations, on her husband Eddie's boat. She arranged for a flower-topped cake and lobster dinner right on the boat. Sadly, that boat was destroyed in a storm while sitting at dock and Jen and Eddie had divorced. We found this out on a return trip to Maine three years ago and the feeling of loss was overwhelming for everyone. Jen seemed happier this time and my heart was glad. Our marriage, thankfully, has survived longer than the boat, but we were so sad about the loss of The Seal. My husband, Kevin, had been on that same boat long before we met, for a whale-watching adventure. We didn't know it was the same boat until our wedding when Kevin and Eddie were talking about its origins.

Maine, and Acadia especially, is a special place for me. It inspires and soothes me. It is so beautiful that I can't really do anything else while I'm there except try to take it all in. I brought my computer and my journal, thinking I would be so inspired I would have to write. I didn't write a single word while I was there. At first, I was concerned, but then I realized, I was was refueling the muse. It was okay not to write because I was filling my tank. I did feel a little bit guilty when I checked Facebook and saw my prolific writer-friend Gregory Norris practically hemorrhaging prose in fits of amazing productivity and success. Kudos to you, dear Gregory! I will never, ever be that capable of such output. But, I think that's okay. As long as I don't stop. As long as the ideas are still flowing. I will continue to do what I can. I am excited about my next book. I have been jotting thoughts haphazardly in a notebook and on index cards and I had hoped to begin working on the meat of the story in Maine. I didn't accomplish any writing, but I did cleanse my cluttered mind with some salt sea air and got a couple things ready for my editors at Unsolicited Press unsolicitedpress.com. So, if the mission was to renew my muse, well, check that done!

It's hard to share something that means so much with other people. Writers do this all the time, I suppose. At least to the point that they cut out their hearts and bleed all over the page. Minor surgery, ha! Just as Acadia means so much to me, so does my writing. Writing needs the reader to complete the cycle, but it's not without trepidation. When we offered to show our friends the wonders of Acadia, we were a little concerned. Would they like it? Would it move them as much as it moves us? What if they hate it? At the same time, with age, I have developed some ability to distance myself from other people's experiences. If our friends did not love Acadia as much as we, well, so be it. We would be disappointed, but only in that they could not receive the full gift of such a place as we know it. Am I disappointed if someone doesn't like my writing? Yes, indeedy! But, I really try to listen now. Usually, I find the reader has something helpful to offer. I am also a reader, after all! The reader might find something I didn't notice in my first fifty writings of the thing or maybe he will offer a different perspective I hadn't considered. Hopefully, this is happening before the publishing stage, but not always, I'm sure. I might go back and rework it, if it makes sense to me. Or not. Everyone has a different experience, depending on their background. The fun part is in the paying attention. Pay attention to as much as possible, and the gold will reveal itself. That's what I choose to believe. Maybe you have a different experience. But, if I can touch just one heart, it's all worth it.

Keep paying attention. It all goes by so fast. Thank you for reading.

When in Doubt, Change Your Perspective

Photo by Laura Bear

I went to Chicago for a work conference this week. Here's a shot of the skyline from the architectural boat tour on the river. It was neat to see the place from a different perspective.

I love to visit new places. Actually, I've been to Chicago before, but it was still new. I met new people, I learned new things, I saw a different part of the city. There was still plenty of traffic and wall-to-wall people on North Michigan Avenue, but it was easy to take a quick jog down a side street to find some green space and fewer people. I met a great lady from Texas at the conference and we had dinner and took the boat tour together. Good times! I will skip the air travel part, which was not a good time. For the price of air travel, you would think they would try harder to at least make it less like slow torture for their customers. Yes, airlines, we are your customers, not your unwanted baggage. Without us, there would be no airlines!

Anyway, I'm back and have too much to do before another trip--to Maine this time (yahoo! and no airplanes)--so this will be a short post. If you feel blocked and uninspired. If you don't know what to do next. If you aren't sure where your story is going or can't get a handle on a character in your book, try looking at it from a different perspective. Change the "I" to he or she, spend time with that minor character (maybe she is really a major one), take a walk and change your route, stop into that little shop you always thought you'd like but didn't want to take the time, write down your daydreams and see if there's a story in them. Get out of your normal groove and skip across the vinyl (yes, remember records? No? You have no idea what recorded music is really supposed to sound like). In fact, go to a live concert! Listen to live music, go to an art museum (googling artwork does not count), take a trip, even if it's only to another part of town. Take a boat ride or better yet, paddle your own boat.

It's all a matter of perspective and sometimes, we just need to find a new one to move on.

Dancing with Anxiety

Photo by Kevin Tomasello

Anxiety in writers is like the common cold. It's easy to catch and hard to let go. When I feel anxious, I go to nature. These orchids offer their quiet beauty, reminding me to take a deep breath. Breathe in, exhale slowly...okay, not working. So, I will go to writing. Bear with me, I will try to resolve this issue by the end.

Of course, writers are not the only people to suffer anxiety. Any number of people can carry this affliction at any one time. But, I do believe writers have an edge when it comes to this problem. We may turn it into a character: Anxiety is a sharp-chinned rogue, too restless--or afraid-- of being ripped open with all its entrails hanging forth. Or Anxiety crept up behind her, its icy tendrils slithering up her back , encircling her throat until her breath was a gurgle. Or even: Yo, b*tch, Anxiety here, that's right, I'm baaaack. Yes, Anxiety is usually an antagonist.

But, couldn't Anxiety be a good guy (or gal, let's not discriminate)? What if it is simply The Spark? The effects of anxiety often come from indecision or lack of knowledge or lack of confidence, right? Maybe that tremor in your voice or the sweat on your palms is a sign. Maybe your heart is beating out of your chest to make you pay attention. Maybe--shall I go out on that thin limb--maybe it's a gift. That's right, you heard me. A gift.

Oh yes, I know, it's not a good feeling. Anxiety and I have a long relationship, but that doesn't mean we are soul mates. I am still learning how to dance with this bastard, er, gift. But, how, you may ask? How do we tame the savage beastie? Natalie Goldberg talks about alleviating writer's anxiety in her powerful book THUNDER AND LIGHTNING: CRACKING OPEN THE WRITER'S CRAFT. She suggests (for writers, at least, it is a book for writers, after all) that we not beat ourselves up for missing a day of writing, or two, but instead, SCHEDULE IT IN. If you only have a free half hour on Friday after the kids go to bed, put that time on your calendar for writing. Anxiety hates structure. It thrives on chaos and disarray. Turn the lion into a purring kitten. Goldberg reminds us that if we structure our time for writing, we won't be thinking about it while we're at our kid's soccer game or talking to our spouse or consoling a sick friend. We can focus on the present thing. We know we will have that time, no matter how small, to devote to the thing we are compelled to do. I think this could work for anything we want to do: writing, painting, meditation, working out, researching things we are passionate about, animal welfare, thinking up cool crafts for the kids, designing the perfect tattoo--whatever! Why not?

Don't give up your dream. If you are passionate about something, if you can't stop thinking about it, if it wakes you up at two in the morning or even if it's long buried, but kicks to the surface at odd times, it is worth putting it on your "to do" list and marking time on your calendar for it. I've had a burning desire to write all my life. I wasn't sure what to write exactly, but I knew I was meant to do it. I kept journals on and off, started articles and short stories I never finished, and  puttered around for years doing other things that I was also passionate about, but writing always bobbed its little head out of the water. I finally put it on my schedule. And I wrote a novel. I get to see it published next year. I can't wait to see what Anxiety has in store for me then! But, the point is, I went for it full throttle despite my anxiety. Keeping some structure allowed me to stay in my stride so Anxiety couldn't step on my toes. Perhaps you will do the same. I would love to hear how you manage anxiety and your plans for following your dreams.

And don't forget to breathe! Thank you for scheduling a moment with me.