Write on Wednesday~ Postscript

Thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts about "why in the world they come to the page."  I was enlightened and insprired by each one of you.  (A reminder that Write on Wednesday lasts all week, so if you decide to respond to the prompt with a post on your blog, or a comment here at the Byline, then feel free to do so.)

As a postscript to this week's WOW (Susan pointed out the aptness of the acronym),  here's a quote from I found this morning on Writing Time - it's from a man named Frank Smith.   I especially like the last two lines...

Writing is for stories to be read, books to be published, poems to be recited, plays to be acted, songs to be sung, newspapers to be shared, letters to be mailed, jokes to be told, notes to be passed, recipes to be cooked, messages to be exchanged, memos to be circulated, announcements to be posted, bills to be collected, posters to be displayed and diaries to be concealed.

Writing is for ideas, action, reflection, and experience. It is not for having your ignorance exposed, your sensitivity destroyed, or your ability assessed.

Happy Writing!

Write on Wednesday-Why In the World Do You Come to the Page?

Frustration has been the name of the game this week.   Our computers at work are wonky, we have a new staff member in the office meaning there's all kinds of unusual verbal and social interaction, and then one of our senior staff members decided it would be fun for all of us to have instant messenger so we could IM each other within our huge (7 peeople on a good day) office.  I'm ashamed to say I spent at an hour creating my avatar...you see, I was trying to find this one icon of a fluffy white dog (see what I mean about wasting time?)

So I got home about 6:00, after fighting my way through rush hour traffic, and what's the first thing I feel compelled to do?

Write.

Wouldn't you think that after a frustrating day, a day when every accomplishment, every task was completed with much virtual hair pulling and screaming, wouldn't you think that after a day like that I'd crave nothing more than a big glass of wine, a huge box of chocolates, and my easy chair?

Why in the world would I come to the page after a day like that?

"We should write because writing is a powerful form of prayer and meditation, connecting us both to our own insight and to a higher and deeper level of inner guidance," says Julia Cameron, in The Right to Write.  "Writing is good for the soul."

While I don't necessarily think of writing as cathartic, I do believe it helps me make sense of my world and myself.  There are times when a striking truth about my life suddenly appears before me on the screen, complete and utterly honest, coming straight from my spirit through my fingers and onto the page.  For a writer, there is a great connection between the heart, the mind, and the pen.  The act of setting words on the page seems to open a door directly into my writer's soul, letting me in on the secrets that are stored there.

Perhaps that why writing is such a restorative act.  "Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises," Anne Lamott writes in Bird by Bird.  "The actual act of writing turns out to be the best part.  It's like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony.  The act of writing turns out to be its own reward."

Indeed, there was a sense of relief, of reassurance, to come home, kick off my shoes, and curl up in my easy chair with my virtual pen and paper - my little laptop perched precariously on the chair's overstuffed arm.  I admit, there was wine involved too, but the comfort and relaxation which flooded my body had more to do with the words flowing from my fingertips than from the alcohol flowing past my lips. 

Writing replenishes my spirit, it rejuvenates my mind, it relaxes my emotions.

And that's why I come to the page.

How about you?  What brings you to the page, and why?

Write on Wednesday  is back!  This column once appeared regularly here at the Byline as a weekly look at the craft of writing in general and my own in particular.  Write on Wednesday  will appear each week throughout the summer, and this time you're invited to participate by creating your own blog post using the topic of the week's post as your prompt.  

You know the drill...leave a comment here with a link to your post.  I can't wait to see what you come up with.

The Responsibility Ticker *Updated*

*24 hours have passed, and with it a noticeable slowing of the ubiquitous Responsibility Ticker.  Much was accomplished today, proving once again that if you allow yourself some breathing room, it's easier to get into gear and get things done. I did indeed clean out my closet today, and my husband's closet as well.  I've have four big bags of clothing to donate to a local charitable organization, and decided I obviously have plenty of clothes to get me through the summer. (Sad, since I love buying new clothes, but better for the pocketbook.)

The most exciting thing is this...about 11:00 this morning, a crew of six very cute young men arrived with heavy equipment and cut down all the bushes in front of my house.  (Yes, Brian, every one!)  You see, I have an old house with old landscaping, and I've been wanting to replace it for years, but always felt it would be too expensive. 

So, why finally take the plunge in a year when I really have no money to spare?

Let's just say these guys were not only incredibly cute, they were incredibly cheap.  In less than an hour, 50 years worth of overgrown bushes were history.  In a couple of days, I'll be meeting with a landscape designer to pick out a new look for my old house. 

And everyone needs a makeover once in a while, right?

Yeah, I felt a moment of sadness as my husky helpers chopped those bushes off at the roots and fed them mercilessly into their deluxe John Deere chopper.  I admit it, I'm sentimental about stuff.  After all, this is the girl that used to tuck blankets around any of her picture books that had pictures of puppies on them, in case the puppies might get cold. 

But these old bushes were long past time to die - they had overgrown the sidewalk and were blocking our view out the windows. 

And so it's on to something new - for the house, and for me. I'm starting to think about what new and different things may develop in my life over the next months...

And I'm excited.

As long as I can keep that old Responsibility Ticker at bay. *smiles*

~~~~~~

When we came home from Florida on Monday, I was eagerly anticipating more temperate weather.  It's been a relatively cool spring in Michigan, and after the heat and humidity that was ramping up near the equator, I was not wholly averse to returning to my Great Lake breezes.

Well, no such luck.

It's been hotter than a firecracker, as my grandmother would say.  It's 93 degrees and humid today.  Plus, the wind is blowing like crazy, so when you step outside, scalding hot air slaps you hard across the face.

Yech.

We've all been inside most of the day, because none of us likes the heat.  Our little Molly completely wilts when it's hot, and even though the house is air-conditioned to a comfortable 78 degrees, she mopes around as if she's lost her best friend (no matter that he's trailing along behind her).

I have to admit I've done nothing today.  Nothing I consider productive.  I despise days like that, and sometimes I'm afraid there's something seriously wrong with me, because I have this huge list of things that need to be done running through my head like the New York Stock Exchange ticker...clean out the closet; do the laundry; pay the bills; visit your mother in law; visit your aunt; clean the bathroom; mop the kitchen; finish the short story; clean up the car; make some dinner; an endless loop of responsibilities, none of which I can make myself do!

Yech.

So closely following the ticker tape of tasks, is the ticker tape of guilt.  Your wardrobe's a mess; the hamper is full; your credit rating is sinking; your mother in law is languishing; your aunt is needy; the bathroom is grungy; the kitchen floor is sticky; the short story stinks; the car is a mess; I'm hungry.

Now my husband, bless his heart, seems to turn his resposibility ticker to OFF on the weekends.  He can lay on that leather couch in front of that big screen tv with the ceiling fan whirring overhead and a beer on the table beside him just as happy as a clam. He can lay there for hours, days even.

So why do I get so bothered by the fact that I haven't checked anything off my list this weekend?  And where is that damn OFF switch?

I've always allowed resposibility to weigh too heavily on my shoulders.  It's battered me into the ground on more than one occasion, held me back from opportunities I wished I'd taken, and prevented me from moving away from unhealthy situations.  I allow my motivation in life to come from shoulda's instead of coulda's.  Then I feel guilty when I don't perform to my own expectations.

And sometimes I get angry about that.

It's 5:00 on a Sunday afternoon.  I'm going to stop feeling guilty, I'm going to pour myself a cold glass of wine, slice a bit of smoked Gouda cheese off that wedge, grab some plump red grapes, and settle into my chair for at least 30 minutes.

Then I'll clean out my closet.

Wild for West Wing

Let me just say - I love CJ Cregg. We've been watching The West Wing tv series for the past several years, renting one DVD after another from Netflix and viewing the whole series from start to finish. We're into the final season of as the second term of the Bartlett administration is drawing to a close. It's an election year, and the parallels between this fictional race and the current real world political drama are simply uncanny. (An upstart young Latino Congressman sweeps the Democratic nomination after duking it out with long standing party favorites and is pitted against an elder statesman Republican.) Adding to the political excitement on the show was the sudden death of John Spencer, an original, beloved cast member, whose character was Bartlett's Chief of Staff and was on the new ticket as VP...well, it's just outstanding drama in every way.

And the writing on this show is spectacular - it's sharp, and witty, and pungent. The pace is fast, and the dialogue whizzes by, meaning I don't always get what's happening, so I have to do a quick rewind (another good reason for watching it on DVD).

But the episode we watched tonight (Internal Displacement) was CJ's show. CJ ( or Claudia Jean) Cregg, played by the inimitable Allison Janney, started out as Press Secretary and is now Chief of Staff in the waning days of Jed Bartlett's regime. The episode starts out with her rushing in to join her old beau, Danny Kincannon, for a late dinner. He's a reporter, and she broke up with him long ago, citing "conflict of interest." But he's back, and he clearly wants to renew their relationship. However, as is often the case with CJ, her ideals get in the way of her emotions, and before long they're sparring in fine style.  At one point, Danny's chiding her (and the administration) for not using their last days in office to accomplish more.

"Don't you realize how much power you have?" he asks her. "Don't you want to make some impact here?"

"Of course I do!" she replies, with some desperation in her voice.  "I'm well aware that I'm living out the first line of my obituary!"

Whoa.

"I'm well aware that I'm living out the first line of my obituary."

Naturally, a line like that sets off a firestorm in my head.  What will be the first line of my obituary?  What would I want it to be?  Have I already lived it?  Am I yet to live it? 

At any rate, CJ spends the next 42 minutes kicking serious butt - from the Chinese ambassador to the  President's (cheating) son in law - no one is immune from her quest to make her mark on the world.

The show closes on the following day, with the pair of them back in the same restaurant.  Her demeanor reflects her activities over the past 24 hours, and she can now sit back and tell Danny she's "planning to suck every last  bit of meat off the bone of this experience."

I think that's what I'd like the first line of my obituary to say - or at least imply.

"She sucked every bit of meat off the bone of this experience."

Claudia Jean - you rock.

Arts and Crafts

Okay, I'm in need of some artistic vibe from all you artists out there...I have a craft project to do today (and I admit the thought strikes fear into my heart).  You see,  I was the little girl whose art papers were always covered with globs of glue in mistaken places, and funny mishapen objects that looked nothing whatsoever like the thing they were meant to represent.   My few attempts at sewing have been exercises in futility (except for that time I worked on a quilt...that turned out pretty well).

Anyway, today's project requires some paper craft.  Here's the story...

My friend Pat and I are attending a bridal shower for a former student.  Our gift (which will be a combined wedding and shower gift) is a quilt, being made specially for her by the mother of another one of her classmates.  HOWEVER, the quilt isn't done yet, so my task is to make "something artistic" - my friend's words- to convey that the gift is in process.

My thought is to make a card of some kind, perhaps with a patchwork-y design, and use some of those nifty little things you can stick on.   Then inside I can write (oh, yes! something I can do!) about the special gift she will receive on her wedding day.

So before I go to Michael's and stand perplexed in front of all the cards/stamps/stickers, etc., I'm placing myself at the mercy of all you artistic gurus out there...

Send good thoughts my way, won't you?~*smiles*~