Writer Unboxed

A colleague and I were discussing a former employee who had been hired (briefly) for a technical writing position. “To be honest,” my co-worker said, “she simply couldn’t write her way out of a box."

The image stuck in my mind, and I started thinking about a frustrated writer trapped inside a big brown box, scribbling furiously up and down the sides of it attempting to write their way out.

It’s easy for writers to get boxed in by fear, lack of confidence, being undisciplined. The walls of the box seem insurmountable, and we struggle valiantly to gain some kind foothold so we can work into the light of day.

Confession time.

The walls of my own box are papered with unfinished writing projects and scraps of ideas that never come to fruition.

I'm great at starting things, not so great at seeing them through to the end.

In order to persevere, I need the impetus of an outside deadline. This gives me validation to spend the amount of time and effort needed to complete the project.

Then I write, write, write, until I'm up the walls and outside of the box.

How about you? Are you writing your way out of a box, or scrabbling up the sides? What's papering the walls of your writer's box?

Mountain Climbing

A while back I wrote a post about mountain climbing. Tomorrow, I’m flying off to Scottsdale, Arizona to spend the week with a dear friend. So you probably won’t see me around these parts. I’m looking forward to some much needed down time. The pace has been hectic around here.

We won’t be climbing any mountains, though.

But they’re sure pretty to look at.

When I visit Arizona, I'm always struck by the difference in the scenery. Most every other place I travel, the vista's are green and verdant. The desert looks so very different withy its endless browns, dusty mauves and sage.

It isn't my favorite.

My friend spends a month in Scottsdale every winter, and I know she enjoys the opportunity to escape the chill midwestern winter. But if I were to go for an extended stay somewhere other than Florida, I'd look for flats to rent in Glasgow, or flats to rent in Aberdeen, or flats to rent in Edinburgh.

Talk about climbing a mountain, in more than one sense.

See you when I get back.

Write On Wednesday: Think Tank

I’ve had a lot to think about lately. Between music for school and bells,  consulting and training at my previous job, the possibility of selling our home in Florida, the ever present concern about my dad’s health and the little hole in my heart that comes from missing my grandson, my mind has been all awhirl.

When I get on a roll and start perseverating about all my projected worries to my husband, his general response is “I’m not going to worry about that until I have to. Why get all agitated about it now when you don’t even know the outcome?"

There is wisdom in this line of thinking, of course there is. He is a logical, analytical thinker, while I lead with my emotions - and mostly those born of fear and anxiety. Over the years I’ve tried reform my thought patterns, tried to substitute logic for raw feeling, but unfortunately I’ve never been too successful at it. I don’t know if you can be taught to think like an engineer or an accountant, if they offer courses in logical thinking for enrolled agents studying for enrolled agent exams.

If they did, I would probably fail.

Earlier this week I read a short e-book by novelist Ann Patchett (Bel Canto, State of Wonder) entitled The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life. In it, she talks about the way she thinks through her novels, how she can spend years just thinking about characters and plot and story before ever committing a word to paper. She writes that her first novel was written largely in her head while she was a waitress at TGI Friday’s, plotted while she carried trays of burgers and beer back and forth.

That was just an amazing concept to me, that you could focus your thoughts so intensely on something for such a long period of time. I can never manage to think about one thing for more than a few minutes before my mind flits off to worry ponder something else.

Of course the kind of writerly thinking Ann Patchett speaks of is much different from thinking like an engineer or an accountant. But it requires a similar linear pattern and focused attention to detail, otherwise it could never be productive.

How to break the “monkey mind” cycle and focus my thoughts productively?

Hmm...something else to think about.

How about you? How do you think? Like an engineer, a writer, or a “monkey” like me? Any advice for taming the monkey mind and learning to focus?

And He’s Back

The Ahh-nold, that is. Rumor has it that Arnold Schwarzenegger and about to be ex-wife Maria Shriver are in marriage counseling and attempting to save their marriage. In case you don’t recall, it became known about a year ago that Arnold was involved in a long standing affair with the family’s housekeeper, one that produced a son who is now a young teenager about the same age as Arnold and Maria’s youngest child. Shriver promptly ditched the actor/politician and threw herself into media and writing projects that placed her clearly in the public eye as a symbol of the empowered woman. But lately the couple has been photographed around some of their favorite haunts, and the gossip columns are all atwitter.

I first heard about this while reading through this week’s copy of Newseek magazine. Rebecca Dana, writer of the Social Diaries column, opened the piece with this line - “Don’t do it, Maria!"

It is a little hard to reconcile the thought of this very strong, intelligent, independent and attractive woman returning to a man who betrayed her trust and humiliated her in so publicly. After all, Shriver certainly can’t need the financial support, nor should she lack for male companionship. So why return to a relationship with this man who clearly has so little respect for her or their marriage?

“She must think she’s a saint,” my husband said offhandedly, when I mentioned it to him over morning coffee.

He could be on to something.

Shriver, daughter of Eunice Kennedy and “Sargeant” Shriver, comes from a long line of women who steadfastly took a backseat in their marriages to powerful  men. That, plus her strict Catholic heritage and a family tradition of dedication to a higher standard, makes her a prime candidate for personal sainthood. Perhaps some part of Shriver thinks that putting her feelings aside and taking this moral high ground of attempting to save her marriage is another accomplishment to add to her application for sainthood - or even martyrdom.

Sadly, one has the sense that this whole episode cost Schwarzenegger nothing. Other than a moment’s notariety, which in this case was probably more like a feather in his good-old-boy’s club cap, and the pang of “getting caught,” he’s gotten off scott free.

Certainly it’s not my business to judge Shriver, whatever her motives. Because of my parent’s experience, I have seen the effects of infidelity in a marriage. But I also know that being in love with someone is hugely complicated, and that having a long history of family life with another person creates bonds that aren’t easily forsaken.

I would only wish that whatever Maria does, she does with her own well being in mind, and not from some deep seated sense of duty or expectancy. Otherwise, she’s setting herself up for more pain and suffering.

Sometimes the price of sainthood is just too dear.

How about you? Do you think Maria should “take him back”?

Happy (Birth) Day

Six years ago today, I hit “publish” on my first blog post. Starting a blog was a birthday present to myself. It was the year I turned 50, I was feeling slightly depressed about it, and so I gave myself the gift of a writing platform to cheer myself up. I never imagined that I would enjoy it nearly so much, that I would meet so many interesting people, that I would continue doing it for six years (with no plans to stop), or start two more blogs.

I’m not in the mood to wax pathetic poetic about the anniversary of my birth. Suffice to say, with the number of people I know in my age group battling serious illness, I’m just happy to be alive and kicking. If I could wish for any one thing today, it would be to kiss my grandson’s velvety soft cheek and see his amazing little smile. But just knowing he is in the world is a gift of such amazing proportion, I hardly dare wish for anything more.

My husband made coffee for me this morning, and I’m happy to have time to drink it in my favorite reading chair whilst being bathed in early spring sunlight.  I’m happy to have a free day in front of me, happy to have friends sending me cards and greetings of all kinds. I’m happy to have this tiny corner of the world where I can write the musings of my heart and invite people to come by to read them and to share their own musings in return.

Thank you all being among that number.