Write On Wednesday: Wish List

'Tis the season for wishing, for daring to let your thoughts wander through the realms of possibility. Writers are masterful wish-makers, even though we sometimes get discouraged when there is no genie in a bottle to grant the desires of our heart. Making wishes reality requires equal measure of work and whimsey. Flannery O'Connor knew that. She said she sat down at her desk every day from 10 until 12 so the muse would know where to find her. Some days I'm sure she felt alone, staring at her blank piece of paper. But on the days her muse joined her, there was magic in the room.

Most writers wish for more time, and I'm no exception. My writing time usually comes at the end of a long day, or in the few minutes between errands, or at the tail end of finishing some work. Right now I'm typing with one eye on the clock, knowing I have about 30 minutes before the next item on my agenda. But time is only as good as we make it. When given the gift of extra time, all too often I'm tempted to squander it scrolling through Facebook or Twitter feeds instead of putting my own words on the page.

The writer inside me wishes for quiet. The world is so raucous. It has become increasingly difficult for me to focus when I'm bombarded with noise. Music blares in every store, news feeds scroll across the bottom of the television screen, e-mail alerts beep and task reminders buzz. I am on a search for more stillness in my daily life. My morning walks through the neighborhood are an oasis of quiet. I breathe deeply in and out and try to let the perpetually racing thoughts slow to a steady crawl.

Every writer wishes for inspiration. Where does it come from? For me, it often comes from the words of writers I love. Classic authors like Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Modern day favorites such as Anne Tyler, Mary Gordon, Anna Quindlen, Julia Glass, Alice Munro. Sometimes all it takes is a 30 minutes with one of their books and my fingers are itching to get at the keyboard.

"Tis the season for wishing.

What's at the top of your writer's wish list this year?

The Rule

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree There will be an answer, let it be For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be.

There has always been and always will be senseless evil in the world. We think society has evolved, has become so sophisticated, but then that evil appears once again just as primitive and ugly as it ever was. Today it appeared in an elementary school in Newton, Connecticut. It appeared in the form of a 20 year old man, carrying guns. A man whose mother taught young children in that school. A man who had so much hatred in his heart that he mercilessly could kill innocent children.

How can we heal people who are so badly broken? And how did they get that way in the first place? You can't write legislation to prevent that level of sickness.

I only wish you could.

Over 2000 years ago, a man gave us a Rule, a piece of legislation if you will. "Love one another as you would be loved. Do unto others as you would have done to you."

So simple. And yet so hard to make reality.

But what would the world look like if we could?

I wonder. Oh, I wonder.

Write on Wednesday: What's It All About?

"It once seemed all-important to get to a certain salary level; my professional self-worth was tied to that figure. Now, instead, I’m morphing into measuring my self worth through professional development and creative evolution." ~Bethanne Patrick, What About the Money, Money, Money?, Between the Margins I don't suppose there is a writer among us who hasn't dreamed of quitting their day job and writing full time. Just the thought of it conjures a laundry list of romantic possibilities - hours whiled away over legal pads covered in handwriting, stacks of books and articles amassed for research, long walks in the woods while pondering character and plot development.

Most full time writers would probably tell you the operative word in that paragraph is "dreamed," because the reality isn't always so rosy. Like any job, writing has its share of frustration, tediousness, and even abject failure.

As I scroll through the Twitter and Facebook posts from some of my favorite new authors, I notice a number of them taking the huge plunge, leaving behind flourishing careers in editing, publishing, and teaching in order to dedicate themselves heart and soul to the writing life.

Most importantly, they are making a success of this endeavor, publishing novels and memoirs. I stand in awe of their courage and self discipline. I know their rewards are great.

I think it marks an important change for the literary world when women who have what society might consider a dream career decide to exchange it in order to fulfill their creative dreams, to "measure self-worth...through creative evolution" rather than a certain salary level. It's not easy, and certainly not always possible, to risk the security of steady income. But for those who have the opportunity to engage in the writing life full time and the dedication to be a writer writing - that's what it's all about.

The Sunday Salon: Of Dear Life and God's Whisper

This week more than most I realize how much of my thinking comes from books, how the words of others stir my heart, turn the rusty gears of my mind, bring tears to my eyes. This week more than most I have lived vicariously through the eyes of women whose books I have read, whose visions I have shared, whose imparted wisdom I've taken to heart.

This week I've read a collection of stories by a woman I consider writing royalty for her ability to distill everyday experience and emotion into it's purest essence. A woman who has written almost countless such stories in her 80-some years, stories that span now two generations, encompassing all the great change that implies, but remaining true and relevant to human experience.

And I've read a book by a (much younger) woman who has been for some years on the trail of a dream, one that is rock-solid in some respects, but also made of gossamer wings, lending itself to flights of fancy.

First, Dear Life, Alice Munro's new collection of stories. It is not a paean to the loveliness of life. No. Every story in this collection (whose emphasis is on the decisions made by ordinary characters and they ways one small moment can alter a life forever) has a rather stern personality. Ms. Munro is not overly affectionate with her characters and their situations. This is just how it is, she tells us, this dear life we all cling to. With the fatalism common to her generation, she knows we must accept the consequences of our actions and the fickle hand of fate. We must simply play the cards that we've been dealt. That is not such a bad thing, really. Now we all expect so much, feel entitled to so much, that occasionally it seems right to have the reins pulled in just a bit.

Then, after reading Dear Life, I fell into the comforting arms of my friend Andi Cumbo's manifesto about God's Whisper, as she has christened her farmhouse and its surrounding acres (God's Whisper Manifesto, the Makings of a Dream). Andi has been incubating this dream for a long time, and I've watched vicariously through her blog and Facebook posts as she has made it come true, assisted by grace from God and her own true grit. This small book lists ten principles for life at God's Whisper farm, but of course they are really principles for life anywhere. "Love people first and hard," Andi says. "Live with intention but without pretention." "Art matters, play is good, rest is treasured."

Simple precepts, and pure. Not easy to accomplish given the complexity of this Dear Life we all live- as Munro writes about with such aching understanding in these new stories, and in the hundreds of stories she's written during her lifetime.

Story is paramount. That is Principle Number 8 at God's Whisper. "Here at God's Whisper, we know that our stories are our very lives. That we thrive and grow and fight and love because of the stories we know, the ones we live, and the ones we want to create."

This week, more than most, I have been blessed by stories and the vision of two extraordinary women who told them.

Homebound

Last week I contacted the local Salvation Army to inquire about donating some furniture that wouldn't fit in our new house. They were happy to arrange a pickup, but the representative was apologetic that he couldn't give me a more specific time frame other than "between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m." "Oh, that's fine," I said agreeably.

"Really?" he sounded surprised. "Many people are unhappy that they might have to stay home all day."

"Really, I don't mind at all," I replied, smiling.

Little did he know, he was actually doing me a huge favor. Like a child on one of those snow days we get here in the midwest, when the weather is too frightful and school is called off - being forced to stay home is a delightful pleasure.

Sorry, can't run errands or go to any meetings. I've got to stay home.

Even though I don't work full time or have regular office hours, I harbor irrational guilt feelings  about taking "snow days," days to putter around the house, catch up on the laundry, organize my desk, clean out the refrigerator. Or to put some music on and lie on the couch with a book. Or to sit quietly in my favorite chair and simply ponder things.

Why do I feel as if I must run full tilt at all times, squeezing some activity into every minute?

Not today. Today I'm happy to stay home, eager to get out of bed when the first notes of music rise in a gentle crescendo from my radio alarm. I hum a tune as I measure coffee into the filter, smile as I settle into my chair with that first cup and my brand new copy of Alice Munro's new short stories.

I'm homebound and happy.