Making Progress

February 2, 2013 By

DSCF0295Yikes! Yesterday was the first day of February. I set a deadline to finish a draft of my memoir by September first. I don’t know where last month’s thirty-one days went. I swear it was just yesterday that I welcomed in the New Year with excitement. My head was filled with ideas. I jotted down notes every time a new one came along and began getting out of bed at six-fifteen every morning so that I could walk the dog, get some exercise in, and have breakfast before plunging into a two-hour write.

I set of goal of writing for at least twelve hours a week. It doesn’t sound like much for a serious writer, but that time allotment does not include reading other blogs about writing, checking email, wasting time on Facebook, meeting every two weeks with my writing coach, or keeping this blog up to date.

I also decided I would no longer allow myself to get fixed like glue to the television screen every night after the evening news, even if there is something “good” on. Bill and I have gotten into the habit of watching House Hunters International on HGTV, every evening at seven.  It’s the cheapest way to see the world and somehow very addictive for two old farts like us.

Instead, most nights, I’ve been taking that hour to try to make a dent in the piles of books I have sitting by my bedside and in the living room.  I figure a writer needs to read in order to write. But if I wait, like I usually do until I get into bed, I’ll be reading the same damned paragraph every night for the next three months. Don’t laugh. It really happens.

So how’s it going?  I’m sorry you asked. I’m completely frustrated, overwhelmed, and every day ask myself, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I LOVE my actual writing time, when there are two hours in a row to go at it without interruption. The morning is best, but in order to keep my aging body from pooping out, there are several sessions of Pilates and yoga to go to several times a week. They meet only in the morning.

And then two weeks ago I signed up for a six-week class with Dan Blank, on building my writers platform.  Oh my goodness.  If I wasn’t already overwhelmed before, I certainly am now.

What was I thinking? Though writing this book is not about making millions of dollars or being on the New York Times bestseller list, I certainly do want at least more than twenty or so people to read my book. And since I will in all likelihood self-publish this very well written gem, I’d best find out how one goes about doing what I think I’m doing. I’ve finished Dan’s first lesson with its homework and am now settling into the second lesson. I put a few drops of Dr. Bach’s Rescue Remedy, on my tongue when the anxiety of, “I have to do what?” kicks in.

Seriously, it’s scary.  I’m a seventy-year-old introvert, who loves to spend her time creating, not selling. Technology gets the best of me, and frankly, I don’t give a fig about social media and all that other stuff I don’t understand.

But rather than begin to sound like my mother, who a lot of my book is about, I’d best not say too much more.

Instead, I will pass on a quote from my daughter, Lisa, who in her latest, Sacred Circle Newsletter, wrote:

“What if there was no such thing as failure?  What if everything was akin to a great big fancy science experiment where the results simply gave you new information and didn’t define who you are? What if the results of your “experiments” changed with the seasons, shifted with your moods, and weren’t necessarily static and permanent?  What if at any time you can choose to change your mind about the direction your “experiments” are going?”

Reading that yesterday helped me to adjust my attitude a bit.  I know I can do just about anything for a little while and since the class is only six weeks long, I’ll experiment and see if this platform building stuff takes hold. By then my anxiety about creating a brand and building relationships with people I don’t even know, will hopefully find a new home.

I must say I am enjoying working with a group of writers who experience the same fears that I do and Dan is fabulous. He has a lot of patience with us and everything he says makes a whole lot of sense.  So I’m sticking with it. I’ll keep on writing as well and work at trying not to be so OCD about getting a draft done by 11:59 PM on September first.

What about you?  What’s causing you to be overwhelmed and filled with anxiety?  How do you deal with it?

Filed Under: Addiction, Being Creative, Books, Classes, Memoir, Navigating Through Life, Quotes, Time, Wise Words, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

The Best Of Intentions

May 6, 2012 By

Eggplant in last years garden.

May 4th, 2012

It’s been one of those days.  Even with my list of intentions I can’t seem to focus.  Instead of coming home after yoga class to start writing, I went to the garden center where I bought another dozen or so plants for the shade garden. I found some interesting Hostas, Astilbes in blushing pink, and a colorful collection of Coral Bells.  These last have tiny bell-shaped flowers that are not particularly spectacular unless you’re a hummingbird.  It’s the color of the leaves that blows me away. And in a shade garden, which is mostly green, I like to throw in some odd color variations to keep my eyes interested. Today I found one with lime tinted leaves.  I also chose one with light, autumn-orange foliage and another with dark maroon leaves etched with silver. Next to that last one, I’ll plant another one called “Berry Smoothie,” with soft rose-pink leaves.  They look stunning together.

Thinking that I was almost done with my garden work for the spring, I quickly remembered that I haven’t yet picked out the tomato plants I plan on putting in the raised bed I use only for veggies and herbs.  Last year I filled it with sweet peppers in green, red and yellow. Never having grown eggplant and not knowing what kind of harvest to expect, I put in six plants.  There are only two mouths to feed in this house and we adore eggplant but it seems I went a bit overboard.

By the end of summer we were tired of eggplant parmesan, ratatouille, and everything else eggplant. When I approached friends with a basket of perfect purple orbs, I found out that most them don’t like it. I took the overflow to the local Food Bank where hopefully they found a stomach or two to fill with my gorgeous garden treasures.

It’s three PM, and I realize that I’ve not been attending to the item that was at the top of today’s list. I am doing about the garden, which was not on the list. I feel a bit guilty and annoyed with myself. I am supposed to be starting on a new blog post to be published on Sunday. I haven’t yet figured out what to write about and since next week is overflowing with places to be, I need to be getting one ready for next weekend as well.  Frustration time!! How do I fit it all in when there’s also the laundry, healthy meals to prepare and friends I want to see.

Writing a memoir and trying to keep my blog updated, is not the easiest thing in the world for me to do.  I love doing both but my head isn’t always in tune with the planned time schedule I put together to keep myself on track. And I have so many interests and passions that I’m constantly trying to figure out a way to keep all of them in my life. The garden is one of those and at this time of year it’s difficult to pass up the opportunity to discover an interesting new plants to add to the work of art I’m creating for myself with live plant material.

The list of intentions I put together every evening for the next day seems to be the driving force in my life along with the clock that is always ticking away in the background.  But should it be?  That page of numbered items does help me get things done and keeps me from running after every spectacular idea that blows my way.  But it doesn’t always provide fun or relaxation and I tend to be OCD about many of my projects.

I do know what to do to take care of my problem.  It’s very simple and at the same time very difficult. Bury the list, the clock, my guilt, and annoyance in a mound of compost. Then go do something else that I feel like doing. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just enough to loosen my shoulders and neck.

It might be taking a nap or smelling the unbelievably red roses that grow down the street.  Maybe it’s lunch with a friend or going up on the Blue Ridge Parkway with a picnic basket to watch the sun go down. When I get back from those little jaunts, I know the compost pile will be smoking with heat from digesting all the stuff I buried inside of it.  I’m refreshed and ready to go back to the writing, which then seems to be flowing like a rain-filled river until I get lost again in my life.

Update, Sunday, May 6:

Today I spent 4 hours in the garden planting all those plants I bought and doing a general cleanup. I found a newly fledged baby woodpecker flitting around the garden unable to fly.  I called the local wildlife sanctuary and they sent someone to pick him up.  He or she will be fed and placed in an area with other baby birds and released when he is able to fend for himself.  I have three cats and there are others in the area.  Not a good place for baby birds who can’t fly!

Filed Under: Life, Memoir, Navigating Through Life, The Garden, Writing Tagged With: ,

Remember When?

April 9, 2012 By

Family Reunion, 2006: Me, Cousin John, Cousin Tom, Brother Zed, Brother Reid and Cousin Jane.

While doing some ironing the other day, I listened in on the program Here And Now on my local NPR station.  While I steamed away wrinkles from my favorite linen shirt, I listened as Robin Young, the host of the show, interviewed Jonah Lehrer, author of Imagine How Creativity Works and How We Decide.  In a recent article in Wired Magazine, he discusses memory, trauma and the making of a pill that will take away painful remembrances. Fussing away over the fact that my shirt seems to have a huge memory bank for wrinkles that are always in the same old places, I got caught up in the interview and the idea of a pill that is being developed so that those suffering from the likes of PTSD can be relieved of their suffering.

The reason for my interest is that I am at work on a memoir and have been diagnosed with PTSD.  Though I am living a rich and wonderful life after years of therapy and plain old hard inner work, I am still in the process of healing my old wounds. Even now, decades after any trauma, a threatening authority figure or someone using a particular tone of voice or word can easily throw me back into my old ways of reacting. I still suffer from occasional panic attacks. And the anxiety I’ve lived with all of these years can still haunt me.

How does memory work? Does time play a role in how we remember things? What would happen if I chose to take a pill that would wipe away the pain of difficult times? Would I also forget all of the good times? Would I be the same person I am today if I hadn’t been given the opportunity to work through my difficulties and instead been given a pill to erase the misery?

In his article, Lehrer addresses those questions and more, discussing the pros and cons of such an approach to treating illnesses often brought on by trauma, such as chronic pain, drug addiction, obsessive-compulsive disorder and of course, PTSD.  He explains how memories are stored in the brain and that the latest science shows that memories change every time we recall them. Lehrer goes on to suggest, “Every memoir should be classified as fiction.” Though that statement alone is something memoir writers like myself might seriously consider arguing about, my own interest was piqued by the possibility that in the future, one might take a pill to forget the pain we bring through life with us.

Though revisiting the traumatic events of my life has been extremely painful, I believe that I am a wiser person for it. After years of talk therapy, medication from time to time, and now writing my story, I’m healing and discovering the treasures of my life. Facing my own challenges head on has changed the way I see and think about the world. I know more about how my mind works and what I need to do when I feel like I’m about to have a meltdown or a panic attack.  Remembering has opened me up to appreciate the beauty that surrounds me; that without the dark periods I would not know the happy, sunlit times.

Without my need to understand who I am and to live my life fully and openly, I would not know what love and compassion are. I now better understand who my parents were. Why my mother may have come to be an alcoholic and how my father struggled through his life after his wartime experiences.  And though genetics may play a role in some or all emotional disorders, everyday experiences stand out as being number one when it comes to trauma.

In the end each of us has our own way of working through our lives. Perhaps for my father, who lived the untold horrors of war on a regular basis, would have benefited from such a pill.  Perhaps my mother would not have been an alcoholic. And maybe those who have lived through one of nature’s tragic catastrophes like last year’s earthquake and tsunami in Japan would be helped to find a peaceful way to exist after such a horrific experience.

There is also the question of what would happen if the pill that helps us forget gets into the wrong hands.  Is this one more step along the highway to Big Brotherhood?

None of us knows the answer to life’s toughest questions.  And when we do have answers they only work for some of us.  I am grateful that I have learned to deal with my own struggles and need not ask myself what it is I need or would like to forget.

How about you … would you take a pill to forget?

Filed Under: Addiction, Life, Memoir, Mental Health, Navigating Through Life, Writing Tagged With: , , , ,