Writing Salon Mistress Muses

Art for "The Rest of Us"

How do you get from truth to art? Step One: You start. Most people never start. Maybe it's the word "art." It intimidates. Art is supposedly such a lofty endeavor. Art is for the "artistes." Art isn't for the rest of us.

It should be. Children make art all the time. They take joy in it. They aren't intimidated by their imaginations. They know they have a right to them.

My Personal Writing Life - An Update

A few days ago, on the "News & Events" page of the Writing Salon website (see "Writing Salon Bulletin Board" in the right hand sidebar), I did a post that contained information about what several of our Writing Salon teachers have been up to in their "writing lives," which I left open to broad interpretation. I really enjoyed reading their responses, because even though they work here, I don't know about all the stuff they're doing that has nothing to do with the Writing Salon.

It occurred to me, as I was compiling their info. to put into the post, that I ought to include myself in the mix, since I too am a Writing Salon teacher. But I forgot to do that. Maybe I'll do it now, while I'm waiting for my cell phone to charge before heading out to deliver another huge stack of Writing Salon flyers to the distribution service.

What's up with my own personal "writing life?" Do I HAVE one? Does writing posts for this blog count? Or how about the posts I do for my personal blog? Well, they better count, because otherwise I have written very little in the last year or so. And I pretty much lost interest in trying to get published, long before that. I suppose some would say that I shouldn't admit that here. Publication (esp. PAID publication) is one mark of validation for a writer, and many see it as an essential validation. I used to see it that way, but I don't anymore. It's not essential. It's merely ONE mark of validation. One of many. As many as there are reasons for writing.

I know I can get published if I set my mind to it. When I was more into doing this, I published mostly poetry, personal essays, and erotica. And newspaper features. All you have to do is commit to that goal. It's not rocket science. You learn the ropes for submitting and then you submit. As many times as it takes until someone out there accepts your work. You can get published if you are a brilliant writer. You can also get published if you are a piece of shit writer. No shit. Look at what's out there in print. Whatever level you're at, you can get published if you commit to that goal. It's all about commitment.

I've found that as I get older, it takes very little to satisfy me when it comes to "getting my writing out into the world." I share work with my longtime writing group once every two weeks. I make copies and read it aloud. I find this to be a completely satisfying way to share my writing, in lieu of publishing. I also post occasional "pieces" in my blogs. But mostly I write for other reasons, reasons that have nothing to do with wanting to be published. The main reason is that it satisfies my bottomless urge to immerse myself in the creative process. I feel dead if I don't feel creative.

I've also found that after more than 35 years of channeling my creative urges primarily into writing, that  I want to branch out into other creative endeavors. Like photography, which I discovered almost a year ago and which I have been doing obsessively ever since. Do I want to be a professional photographer and make my living at it? Nope. Do I want others to see it? Sure, somewhat. That's why I put my photos up on Flickr. And why I post them sometimes in my personal blog, or hang them on my walls at home or at The Writing Salon.

I do think think that whatever creative endeavor you're doing at the moment will INFORM other creative endeavors. My years of creative writing undoubtedly now inform my photography, and my photography informs my writing. Lately I've been experimenting with mixing the two, in fact. Here's an example of that.

Okay, gotta go. As you know, I make my LIVING from running the Writing Salon, and it's time for me to get back to work. Spring Session classes are beginning this week, so I have more administrative work to do than usual. 

Behind the Scenes at the Writing Salon

A longtime Writing Salon student sent me this email yesterday:

Hi Jane:

This is not a message that you need to respond to anytime soon.

I was wondering if you have thought about expanding the Writing Salon concept to other cities?

The unique formula of WS doesn't really exist "Back East".

Best,

M.

Here is the (admittedly rushed) response that I sent to her. Be forewarned, it is unedited and candid:

Hi M,

Yes, I have thought of it. But I can barely find time to dress myself, as it is. This would be a project for a true business-person/entrepreneur of the highest order, whose first love IS business! Alas, that person is not moi! It's a huge, huge challenge for me to run a business....something I never dreamed I would do, never aspired to do, and, for the most part, find to be an incredibly stressful, drudgery-filled, highly unromantic hell-world filled with janitorial and administrative tortures. (Okay, I DO like some aspects of it, I admit. It feels worthwhile. Meaningful. Is related to art and creativity and spirituality. Allows me to decorate classrooms and occasionally arrange flowers for people to enjoy. Allows me to be out from under the thumb of an employer. I can make my own hours, though there are way too many of those per week. I do enjoy the CREATIVE, "director" parts, but there's so little time for being the creative director when you are beset and besieged by the grind of all the nitty gritty daily chores.)

My first love in life is whatever artistic pursuit I am most passionate about at any given time: writing...motherhood...decorating a room....teaching, sometimes....photography. All by myself. Alone. Peacefully reclusive but for limited and highly selective interactions with close friends/other creative souls. No clients, no employees, no "people management," no Open Houses, no website updates, no refund policy to enforce, no flyers to post, no broken coffee machines/chairs/cups/locks/, no 1099s to do for 35 teachers, no Quark to learn, no mailing list to update, blah blah blah.

Sure, I fantasize that if I knew how to expand a business to a bunch of cities, I could "retire" and let others run it. But I have not got a clue how I would ever even begin to do such a thing. I never even had a formal business plan. I don't know how to make even my SF business "sustainable!" I didn't even know what the phrase "sustainable business" meant, the first time I heard it. I have since learned that making the business "sustainable" would require writing everything down, in the most minute detail, so that others could do it FOR me. This sounds relatively simple, right?  But when I really started to try and do it, oh my god. It's a HUGE THING to do. Maybe in another lifetime?

And now...off to get my broken laptop repaired (crucial), buy chairs to replace two chairs that broke when people sat in them (a new phenomenon; I guess our chairs are wearing out!), buy snacks at Costco for the next session, plan for the Open House, take paper towels to the SF classroom (and oh yeah, clean it up, including getting down on my knees to clean the toilet), replace the low printer cartridge so I can make a few more hundred flyers, pay three teachers, etc. :-)

xoxo,
Jane (smiling because it was cool/flattering to get your email, even though it provoked mostly just this ranting poor-me response)

Can a School of Creative Writing Survive in a Depressed Economy?

Yesterday, as I was driving from Bernal Heights to the Haight (to deliver 1,220 Writing Salon flyers to the drop-off location for the distribution service), I was listening to Talk of the Nation on NPR. They were talking about what kinds of businesses flourished during the Great Depression. Anybody selling alcohol or tobacco did well. Ditto for cosmetics retailers. Women might not have been able to afford new dresses, but they managed to save enough pennies to replenish their lipstick supply.

I didn't hear the whole show, but it got me thinking about how I've been worrying that the Writing Salon might be adversely affected by the current sucky economy. Enrollments aren't that great right now. People are being more careful about spending. Will they perceive creative writing classes as a "luxury" item? Maybe. Yes, I'm sure that some will.

But I've decided to be optimistic and to have faith that there will still be enough people out there who understand that if something feeds your soul...or nourishes your creative spirit...or draws you into a supportive and interesting community of likeminded others...or simply ENTERTAINS you, it's not a luxury, it's a necessity, particularly when money is tight. (That's another industry that thrived during the Depression, btw -- the entertainment industry. Makes sense.)

I've had so many people tell me that their Writing Salon class was, for nine weeks or five weeks running, the highlight of every week, for them. They looked forward to it way more than to a movie or dinner out. And certainly more than if they had spent the money on, say, an impulse buy at Costco -- you know, like that fancy Braun coffeemaker that you didn't truly need. A good class can be such a satisfying combination of socializing and self-improvement!  You're doing something that feels meaningful, something more enriching than just going out and CONSUMING stuff stuff stuff. Things, things and more things. You're learning. You're growing. You're exploring.

What's more satisfying -- wandering around Macy's looking for a new scarf or hat or purse that you'll wear only a few times and then grow tired of, or learning skills that you can use for the rest of your life, skills that will allow you to spend thousands of hours CREATING and, in so doing, expanding and deepening your vision of the world...your LIFE?

So...I'll have faith that the Writing Salon will thrive, although of course not quite as much as the oil companies are thriving. Or the pharmaceutical industry is thriving. But don't get me going on THOSE topics! Right now I'd rather think about happy stuff..or at least spiritual stuff.  What matters. That which isn't driven by the insanity of corruption, stupidity and greed.

   

 

A New Post after More Than 8 Months of Silence

This isn't exactly going to be an elaborate post, but perhaps some of you will enjoy, if you missed it, this article that was recently in Salon.com. It's ostensbily about writers who, after graduating from MFA writing progams, stop writing and start freaking out because they've stopped writing. But it's really for anyone who is questioning WHY they write.

I think this is always an excellent question to ask yourself, and I think it's a good idea to ask it on a regular basis. It helps to know why you have chosen to follow this writerly path, even if all you know is "I have no choice; I can't NOT do it."

But there are also many other reasons to choose from, and you can sort through them at your leisure, accepting and rejecting . . . and also changing your mind again and again, as time goes by and you evolve as a person and therefore as a writer.

Strategies to Keep You Writing

 Most writers - not all, but most! - struggle to find the time, energy, and motivation to keep writing. Different people come up with different strategies to keep themselves going. Here are a few strategies (off the top of my head and in no particular order) that I have employed at one time or another:

1) created a special space or, if you will, a "room of my own" (or nook or desk or corner of the basement) for writing

2) read motivational books for writers

3) chose to work at jobs that required fewer hours and less effort, so that I had more time and energy left over for writing (or better yet, worked at jobs where I could sneak in some writing, i.e. when I worked as a clerk in a tiny bookstore that hardly ever had any customers

4) learned better time management skills (this first happened after I had a child and began to better understand the value of just one minute)

5) found a writing partner

6) joined a writer's group

7) submitted my work to publications and/or contests that had deadlines

8) got undergrad and graduate degrees in creative writing

9) took writing classes AFTER graduate school, and also hired a private tutor for a short time

10) established different life priorities, i.e. became more of a recluse and less of a social butterfly, or opted to write instead of watching more TV

11) started a personal blog site

12) participated in readings

13) hired a housecleaner

14) hired a professional organizer (see #4) 

 

 Things I've thought of doing and still might do at some point:

1) hire a writing coach

2) participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)

3) can't remember but I'm sure there's more, because there's always more...

That's seventeen strategies, and eleven of these strategies have one thing in common: They force you to meet a deadline. I was reminded of the colossal value of deadlines when I was reading the book, No Plot? No Problem!, by Chris Baty, founder of NaNoWriMo.

Says Baty: "A deadline is, simply put, optimism in its most ass-kicking form. It's a potent force that, when wielded with respect, will level any obstacle in its path. This is especially true when it comes to creative pursuits. . . . The problem, as those of us who are forever grumbling about our uncreative lives know, is that rock-solid, dream-fostering deadlines are hard to come by in the arts world. It's a sad irony that deadlines are given so freely at work (where we want them least), and are in such short supply in the extracurricular activities where we need them most.

Outside of writing classes, we never quite get the professional-grade push we need to tackle big, juicy creative projects. . ."

Baty is, of course, leading up to explaining why NaNoWriMo works so well. But I'm using his quote simply as a way to remind you that writing classes exist for many more reasons that just to help you learn craft. They also help to keep you writing!

So... don't stop now. Keep your momentum going (or GET it going!). A bunch of our summer session classes are starting between July 14th-19th, and most of them still have openings (if they don't, it will say so in bold red letters at the top of the course description). 

I'll Be Reading on Wednesday Night...You're Invited

Here's something I know about myself: I'm a good organizer when I put my mind to it, and one way I occasionally put that talent to good use is when I create an event — say, a Writing Salon party or reading. If it's a reading, I have great confidence in my ability to find and choose good writers who will read well written, entertaining, provocative, honest pieces of work, whatever the genre. (Don't ask me where this confidence comes from or whether I think I deserve to have it. All I know is, I do have it.)

Often I will give the readers my opinion as to what they should read; I might even request (or demand) a specific piece. I do this because I've found that many excellent writers fall apart when asked to read in public, and if left to their own devices will choose their most inferior work to share with others. Weird.

Or maybe not so weird. I have a theory about it. I think that most beginning to intermediate writers (and sometimes even more experienced ones) will opt to read work that they think is more "polished" and "literary." They overlook the work that, although it may still be raw and not yet shaped into its final, gem-like completion, is powerful BECAUSE it's so raw...so honest, so full of the writer's natural, unedited, authentic "voice" and story.

But if someone else organizes a reading and invites ME to read MY work, I forget all about my tidy theory. I panic because I realize that I have nothing whatsoever that's good enough to read, just as I have nothing at all to wear.  I force myself to go back through old, perpetually unfinished pieces of writing, in search of one that is somehow, at least, more polished and literary.

That's what I did, at first, in preparation for a reading that I'm participating in this Wednesday evening. Here's the press release info. about the reading:

Morbid Curiosity vs. Breast Cancer

Join conspirators to Morbid Curiosity magazine on Wednesday, June 27,  at 7 p.m. as they read new and previously published nonfiction to raise money for the fight against breast cancer. The reading will  take place at Borderlands Books, 866 Valencia Street, San Francisco.    More info:  415-824-8203.

Participants in the reading include Jane Underwood, founder of The  Writing Salon and a breast cancer survivor; Gravity Goldberg, co- editor of Instant City; Mary Ann Stein; and Jeff Dauber, who will  read a true story about breast cancer in men.

The evening will feature a raffle of Morbid Curiosity apparel, rare books, and more.

For the second year in a row, Morbid Curiosity editor Loren Rhoads is doing the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer -- 39.3 miles in a weekend --  to raise funding for research, screening, and treatment of victims of the disease right here in the Bay Area.

People who can't attend the event can still support the cause by going HERE. 

Anyway, after I chose a more polished and literary piece of writing (you know, brimming over with my prettiest, most lyrical language), I got an email from Loren telling me that she'd just re-read some of my earliest blog entries from back when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, and that she found them "powerful," and she liked how honest they were. I wrote back and said, "Which ones? Please tell me which ones, because I have no idea what to read!" (What I didn't say but thought was, What ever made me think I could call myself a writer? All these years, all this effort, and what do I have to show for it? NOTHING!) She wrote back and named three or four blog post titles that I never would have expected her to name because they were so unpolished and unliterary, so RAW. But yeah, I guess, honest.

Duh. So. . . today I'm going back and re-reading some of those posts, and I'll pick out a few, and that's what I'll read on Wednesday night. Raw blog entries about a raw time. Sound appealing? Ha ha. If so, please come to the reading.

The Mystery of Creativity

As an addendum to yesterday's post on creativity, I'd like to share with you this excerpt, which I love, from one of Eric's Maisel's many books, The Creativity Book:

Creativity is a mystery religion. An everyday creative person celebrates, honors, and lives with mystery. The mysteries of the universe can only be participated in, not solved, and when your creativity is pulled from you in the making of a song, an online business, a little sketch, or a large new invention, your response is not, "Well, I guess that settles the mystery of life!" Rather, it's "What a fine interlude that was, spent I-don't-know-where!" . . .

. . . Most people hate the idea that they've been dropped into an insoluble mystery. They want answers and assurances. They want to know God's plans and how many words make a novel. They want to know which clues should be considered and which clues discarded as they search for the meaning of life. They want to know who is more right: the priest, the scientist, or the entrepreneur. But not worrying about all of that is the better plan. The more rewarding path, which leads not to final answers but to a sense of having lived fully, is to create.

Creativity Classes for Writers

I've never been a follower of any organized religion. In fact, I believe that organized religion is at the root of most of the world's idiocy and evil. If I were to say that I worshipped anything in this life, it would be the life force. It would be the spirituality of CREATION/CREATIVITY in all its manifestations, from writing to mothering, cooking to painting, musical composition to gardening, entrepreneurial endeavors to interior decorating, fundraising to fashion flair.

But these are just a few of the obvious examples. REALLY, creativity is about innovation in ANY thought or action, no? You can get creative with the way you wash the dishes or scratch the middle of your back or...um...have sex. Eroticism is one of the most wonderful arenas for creativity, IMHO!

Anyway, I've been thinking that I'd like to add a few non-writing classes to the Writing Salon curriculum, classes that will help people to explore creativity itself and then apply what they've learned to WHATEVER. That's why I asked Eric Maisel if he'd teach a creativity workshop this session. If people are interested and we get at least eight students, then I'll try to come up with additional variations on the same theme for future classes. Let's see, for example, how about a class on how to declutter your workspace, taught by a professional organizer?

What do YOU think?  Feel free to post a comment here. I'd love to hear other suggestions.

Here's a picture of Eric leading a Guided Writing Marathon not too long ago:

And here's one of folks hanging out afterward, having  what I like to think were fascinatingly creative conversations:

And here we have a shot of the "penny project" woman (center) who came to the writing marathon, and whose name I have, I'm sorry to say, forgotten.  I include this photo because it's a fun example of someone who had a kinda wonderfully wacky creative idea and ran with it:

A Creative Life

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." —Joseph Chilton Pearce

Re: Self-Doubt

"There is in you what is beyond you." — Paul Valery

Writing Salon Mistress Not Doing Much Musing!

As you can see, my posts to this blog have become few and far between. Most of my blogging energy is now going into my other, more personal blog site: My Great Breast Cancer Adventure.

I'll continue to post here occasionally, but most of my "writing related" energy, for the time being, is going into: 1) Running the Writing Salon, or 2) Doing my own writing, whether it be for my breast cancer blogsite or for other writing projects.

If you don't want to bother with constantly checking this blog to see if I've posted anything new (or if I've revved it up again in some fascinating new way - always a possibility!), the best thing to do is to subscribe to it (see top of lefthand sidebar). If you do that, you'll get an email notice whenever I've posted something new.

Music

"Writing more and more to the sound of music, writing more and more like music. Sitting in my studio tonight, playing record after record, writing, music is a stimulant of the highest order, far more potent than wine." —Anais Nin

This week's favorite CD (not just the melodies but also the lyrics): The soundtrack from the movie Magnolia (the one with Tom Cruise, not to be confused with Steel Magnolias). I've had it for years and still love it.

Writing Down the Good Stuff

Preparing to teach my "Show, Don't Tell" workshop, I came across an essay I copied long ago from Poets & Writers magazine. Written by novelist David Long, it's called Stuff - The Power of the Tangible. A good piece on how important it is for writers not to become "bogged down in abstraction." I especially liked this excerpt (from the section "Kinds of Stuff"):

2. Special Things: I think of the monolith in Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," its looming physical presence profoundly black, other. Think of Yorick's skull in Hamlet's naked hand. The Bobby Thomson home run ball that reappears throughout Don DeLillo's Underworld. It's Excalibur. It's splinters of the true Cross, the bones of the saints. It's talisman, totem, amulet. It's the lost map, the ribbon-tied sheaf of letters, the dead father's suit hanging mutely in the closet. It's the button accordion passing from hand to hand in Annie Proulx's Accordion Crimes; the blue-green suburban pools John Cheever's swimmer traverses in his quest for home, the pinewood casket the Bundrens try with heroic ineptitude to haul across a flood-swollen river in As I Lay Dying. It's the birthday cake of a young boy struck by a car in Raymond Carver's "A Small, Good Thing."

Remember a work of fiction and certain objects seem embedded in it. . . .

Wooing the World of Creation

Poking around in my bookshelves the other day, I came across one of my books about writing that I hadn't opened in a while: The Writer's Mentor - A Guide to Putting Passion on Paper, by Cathleen Rountree. I opened it up to a page toward the end, and instantly saw a Henry James quote:

"To live in the world of creation – to get into it and stay in it – to frequent it and haunt it – to think intensely and fruitfully – to woo combinations and inspirations into being by a depth and continuity of attention and meditation – this is the only thing."

Good old Henry J.

Analogies and Metaphors

I received this email from Writing Salon teacher Alison Luterman today. It came in just at the moment when I was wondering what to post on this blog. I thought, Easy way out!  and took it.


Every year, English teachers from across the country submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high  school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country.

Here are last year's winners.....

1.  Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making  and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3.  He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went  blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a  pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the  dangers of looking at a solar eclipse, without one of those boxes with a pinhole  in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine  laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it    throws up.

6. Her  vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a  six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30  years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock,  like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little  boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball  wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty  bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly  howl. The whole scene had an eerie,surreal quality, like when you're on  vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of  7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a  sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots  when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the  star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two  freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36  p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35  mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences  that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met.  They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for  her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a  steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted  shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan  was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might  work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not  eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping  on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe  and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire  hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids  around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing  up

Foolish Like a Trout

". . . Depend on rhythm, tonality, and the music of language to hold things together. It is impossible to write meaningless sequences. In a sense the next thing always belongs. In the world of imagination, all things belong. If you take that on faith, you may be foolish, but foolish like a trout.

"Never worry about the reader, what the reader can understand. When you are writing, glance over your shoulder, and you'll find there is no reader. Just you and the page. Feel lonely? Good. Assuming you can write clear English sentences, give up all worry about communications. If you want to communicate, use the telephone.

"To write a poem you must have a streak of arrogance—not in real life I hope. In real life try to be nice. It will save you a hell of a lot of trouble and give you more time to write. By arrogance I mean that when you are writing you must assume that the next thing you put down belongs not for reasons of logic, good sense, or narrative development, but because you put it there. You, the same person who said that, also said this. The adhesive force is your way of writing, not sensible connection."

        —Richard Hugo (The Triggering Town, Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing)

Not Writing

As is obvious, I haven't posted anything new to this blog in almost a week. What has happened? Why this lull?

The lull is the result of me feeling overwhelmed by work and by self-pity (such an attractive combo). I have no other excuses.

Oddly and wonderfully enough, this morning (at a moment when I was feeling especially, dully depressed - like a cardboard facsimile of a woman) I received this poem in an email from Writing Salon poetry teacher Julie Bruck:

Not Writing
 
A wasp rises to its papery
nest under the eaves
where it daubs
 
at the gray shape,
but seems unable
to enter its own house.
 
---Jane Kenyon

The poem arrived RIGHT after I had just sent the following email to my writing partner (Ms. K in NYC):

Hi,    

I'm breaking my own rules. Can't partner for a bit. Am mired in trying to do the summer scheduling, then the summer postcard, and the summer website, then the summer flyers. It's all just too much. I feel overwhelmed, depressed and flat —  from lack of estrogen, I suspect. Cardboard-like.    

xo,    
J.

Her response:

I'm disappointed! Maybe it's pitiful to say this, but it was the best part of my day—writing my thing and waiting for your reply. And I also felt more in touch with you and what's on your mind. But of course I understand.
K

My putrid little response to her response:

How about you keep sending yours, and I'll just do my best but might not be consistent...I hate feeling this way.

All of which inspired me to post this woe-is-me blog entry. You can read it and feel better about your own life. :-)

In Case You Didn't Notice. . .I Have Two Blogs Now

People tend to ignore blog sidebars. They go right for the latest post, and then move on rapidly to the next thing on their list. So. . . in case you missed the post where I announced that I was splitting this blog into TWO blogs, I do now have two blogs. This one is about writing and the writing life. The other one, which you can access by clicking the link in the righthand sidebar that says "My Great Breast Cancer Adventure," is about just that. It's a more personal blog, and touches on lots of stuff that one might not expect to find in a blog about having cancer.

Also, if you want to receive an email that lets you know whenever I've updated my blog (thus saving you the bother of checking it whenever you happen to remember it exists), all you have to do is put your email address in that blank field at the top of the lefthand sidebar where it says "Get Email Updates" and then click on it. It just takes a few seconds to set it up. You can find the same "Get Email Updates" on my other blog, too - only it's in the upper righthand corner rather than the upper lefthand corner!

The Last Reading I Went To

I attended a reading at Borders bookstore on Union Square, the night before last. It was organized by Loren Rhoads, publisher of the magazine Morbid Curiosity.  The goal was to raise money ($1800) for the Avon Breast Cancer Walk, something Loren has committed to doing — partly, she says, in my honor (that is, in support of my recent/current  face-off with breast cancer). She'll be walking 39 miles in two days, folks, in July - and she's still in need of donations, which you can give via her personal Avon Walk link, above.

I am truly touched by this. In addition, Loren has said some very nice things about The Writing Salon in her blog. There were a couple of times—times when I was drowning in a vortex of fear and exhaustion— that her kind words lifted my spirits immeasurably.

Every one of the the six readers had (has) a connection to the Writing Salon. Four have taken my personal essay class and/or my Round Robin class — Ruthann Spike, Seth Flagsberg, Beth Touchette, and Mary Ann Stein — one, Rachel Trachten, has taken other Writing Salon classes, and one, David Booth, is a Writing Salon teacher (who has also participated in my Round Robin class). I had already heard all the pieces that they read on Tuesday night, which ranged from Seth's true story about defending an insane murderer (Seth works as a public defender on the Peninsula) to Mary Ann's also-true story about her harrowing experience managing a Halloween retail store, and I was completely happy to hear them all again.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. My Jack won a Morbid Curiosity tee shirt AND mug at the raffle Loren had going between readings. You can find more of her morbid shirts and mugs online.

And the Point Is. . . ?

I just took my afternoon vitamin B pill, and it gave me enough extra energy to scrounge around for a decent quote for writers. I found this one:

"Each of us is like a desert, and a literary work is like a cry from the desert, or like a pigeon let loose with a message in its claws, or like a bottle thrown into the sea. The point is: to be heard— even if by one single person." —Francois Mauriac

I wonder what Francois would have thought about blogging. . . .

More Dear Natalie

"You have to earn the right to make an abstract statement. You earn this right by using the concrete bricks of detail. After much original detail, you can take a little leap, step away, and make a statement: "Ah, yes, life is good," or "Life sucks." But you can't say "Life sucks" until you have given us a picture of it: a man lying in a gutter, mosquitoes feeding at this open sores, the tongue of his right shoe hanging out, his pockets turned inside out, his eyes stunned closes, and his skin a pale yellow." — Natalie Goldberg

Push Yourself

"Push yourself beyond when you think you are done with what you have to say. Go a little further. Sometimes when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning. Probably that's why we decide we're done. It's getting too scary. We are touching down onto something real. It is beyond the point when you think you are done that often something strong comes out." — Natalie Goldberg

Birds of a Feather

I know almost nothing about anything. But one thing I do know is that writing requires considerable self-discipline. Another thing I know is that it's a myth that writers are antisocial misfits who, by definition, must live as lonely hermits in order to live as writers. I am reminded of this every time I begin to teach another Round Robin class.

Writers need community just like anybody else. It's not a sign of weakness to join a writing group or to take a writing class because you want to hang out with other writers and talk shop. It's not a sign of weakness to need other people's support, encouragement, advice, suggestions, and camraderie on a regular basis. 

People often call to sign up for Writing Salon classes and sheepishly "confess" that they need to take writing classes because without them they don't write as much or as regularly. But they perceive the classes as crutches, and they're imagining that someday they'll be able to write without the aid of a group of peers and/or a teacher. Well sure, maybe. But then again, maybe not. Maybe they'll NEVER enjoy writing in a vacuum. Maybe they'll always need to  seek out the community of other writers.

What the heck. If taking a class or being part of a writing group gives you the structure, inspiration, kick in the ass or pleasure that you need and/or want, fabulous! Toss out the myth.

It Bears Repeating

It seems I continue to be more interested in my health issues than in my writing. I have no problem blathering on and on about the ups and downs of having breast cancer and trying to treat it "alternatively," but when it comes to writing about writing. . . I dunno. Muteness seems to have set in.

But I'll try to break my lamentable silence. Here's my two cents worth for today: You can learn what you have to say IN THE ACT OF SAYING IT. I have stressed this to my students a million times, and to myself a billion times. Still it bears repeating. If you walk (or sit or mope) around all day trying to figure out what you want to write, you'll never write. Thinking about writing does not lead to writing. WRITING leads to writing. You put your reluctant fingers on the keyboard, and you start hitting letters that turn into words and words that turn into sentences and sentences that turn into paragraphs, and so on and so forth, as far as you want to take it.

We all need to have more faith in our fingers. They are connected to more than our palms, which are connected to more than our wrists, etcetera, etcetera.

A Good Day of Writing

A woman was having tea with Mrs. (Thomas) Hardy, and inquired, "Did Mr. Hardy have a good day of writing?" Mrs. Hardy replied, "Oh, I'm sure of it. I could hear him sobbing all afternoon."

The Poet and the Physician

Re: Yesterdays's question about money. I take it back. It was a worthwhile question, I suppose,  in that it reminded me that I don't really care if I ever make "real" money from writing or not. It'd be great, but I'm not going to stop writing if I don't. I can't, actually. It's how I express myself, and not doing it makes me feel incomplete.

One more quote:

A poet went to see a doctor. He said to him, "I have all kinds of terrible symptoms. I am unhappy and uncomfortable, my hair and my arms and legs are as if tortured. "The doctor replied, "Is it not true that you have not yet given out your latest poetic composition?" "That is true," said the poet. "Very well," said the physician, "be good enough to recite. "He did so, and, at the doctor's orders, said his lines again and again.Then the doctor said, "Stand up, for you are now cured. What you had inside had affected your outside. Now that it is released, you are well again."

                                                                                                        —A Sufi Fable

According to Moliere

"Writing is a little bit like prostitution. First you do it for love. Then you do it for a few friends. Then you do it for money."—Moliere

Hmmmm. Will I ever make money from writing? I have no idea. Was that a worthwhile or useful question?

Nope.

Dear Alice Munro

Last night after midnight, I finally managed to stay awake long enough to finish reading one short story by Alice Munro. The story was called Chance, and it was in her book of short stories called Runaway. Her story, which was character driven, pulled me along as deftly as a magnet pulls a metal filing.

What was going to happen to shy and romantically inexperienced Juliet when she went to visit the man she'd met on the train? They had spent only a few hours on the train together. He was, essentially, a stranger. It had been six months since the train encounter when she received a short letter from him, a letter that said little more than "I've thought of you often." He had sent it to the school where she taught, because he hadn't known her address and, in fact, could not even remember her last name.

Nothing boded well for Juliet. The trip seemed destined to end badly, somehow. But how? I was reminded of myself at age 21, the same as as Juliet. I had all but forgotten how it feels to be 21, to be so on the verge of. . . almost everything!

Where was Alice Munro taking Juliet? Where was she taking ME? And why?

Reading that story made me want to write again. I'd also forgotten how reading can inspire me as a writer. It doesn't even have to be a whole book. My time for reading is limited, and squeezing in a short story is about the best I can do right now. But oh, what a relief from the torture of TV. A torture I impose on myself far too often. What an idiot I am! Television has gotten so BAD. The reality shows are hideous. Moronic. They certainly don't inspire me to write.

Dear dear Alice Munro. Thank you.

My tip for today (obvious but can never be said enough to an American): Read more good literature. It will inspire you and perhaps even teach you a thing or two about how to improve your own work. Turn off the TV. Turn off the iPod. Turn off the cell phone. Turn off the radio. Turn off the computer. Pick up the book. Open the book. Read.

Getting Published

Writing, for me, is a practice — a creative-spiritual practice. It's good for my soul and helps to keep me on an even keel. I go in and out of the desire to be published, to gain more recognition as a writer in my own right (rather than merely as "that woman who runs the Writing Salon").

Ten years ago I was much more concerned about being published, so I sent out more submissions (not many, but way more than I do now [I haven't sent anything out in, oh, probably three or four years], and my number of acceptances relative to the number of submissions was actually quite good. You'd think that would have spurred me on to send out even more submissions. But it didn't. Once I'd proven to myself that I could do it if I tried, my interest waned. Weird.

I'm not proud of this, because one thing I have often said to my shy, lazy, or overly modest students who are dragging their feet about submitting their work is that it's SELFISH to horde your writings and never share them with anyone. To submit your work (if you think it's good work) and get it published is an act of generosity. False modesty is tiresome and annoying.

Why haven't I taken my own advice? Hmmm, seems like no matter how long you've been writing, questions such as this one continue to arise.

What I am realizing more and more every day is that there are so many more questions than answers!  Whether the topic is "my life as a writer" or "my battle with breast cancer" or "learning to cook after all these years of eating Lean Cuisines," what's of primary importance are your questions. The answers are secondary, because the answers are always changing. But the questions — the searching — are what make life so interesting.