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Archive for November 2002

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Nov. 27, 2002

On November 27, 2002   /   Art   /   Comments Off

Since October, writing has been my last priority because I, like everyone else, sometimes has the need to take a holiday from the daily grind.

Without any writing to do, I found myself with an unsatisfied life as I had ignored all my other wants and passions for the sake of “being a writer.”I didn’t realise how much I had resented not doing other things because I was hiding behind the comfort of what I had become. Even when you’re doing something you want to do, Being “just a writer” or known as “the girl who writes” didn’t satisfy me because I feel more than those titles. However, I didn’t know how much more because I was hiding behind the comfort of what I had become. Even when you’re doing something you want to do, you can still get trapped.

Art has always been a huge passion of mine but I’ve been a shadow artist for so long; gladly encouraging my very artistic best-friend while feeling like I could never do what she does. However lately my desire to get active in art has been outweighing any fear. With no writing to be done, it seemed like now was as perfect time as any to dip the brush in ink.

When I mentioned this to a friend I did so with a slight tremble – was I really ready I asked her. What if I sucked.

As any good friend would do, she gave me brilliant advice. She said, “My assignment for you: do the SUCKIEST painting you can possibly do!”

And I did.

Without the need to perfect my work and no obligation to show others or write about it, I realised that it didn’t matter that in the end my drawings were unrecognisable because I was completely mesmerized with the process of creating them.

So I drew more.

Over time as I became more and more comfortable with drawing, my drawings became more and more recognisable. And instead of fearing a blank canvas, I feel in love with it and coloured pencils.

This lead me to creating Christmas cards for friends and family, cross-stitching my Christmas stockings, playing Go-Go girl to the radio and writing silly, useless stories just for the fun of it.

I’ve been able to finally get over my fear of participating in art and calling myself an artist. I don’t worry about judgments or outcomes, I just worry now if I have enough paint.

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Nov. 20, 2002

On November 20, 2002   /   Publishing   /   Comments Off

Andrea,

Girl, you won’t believe what’s happening.

I spent the past two days in a state – oh I am telling you it was the saddest, most pitiful state you have ever witnessed someone being in. Since coming back from San Francisco, I realised how unhappy I’ve been with my current state. I realised I wanted to be more, do more, see more. I felt like I had completed one phase of my life (the inspirational writing, the writing on writing, the Web sites, the only being a writer) and I was ready for the next. The only problem? I wasn’t sure what the next phase was.

Usually I love a good mystery but because of the indecision and restlessness I’ve felt as of late, I wanted to know what it was that I was feeling. Sometimes the unknown is scary. Despite the uncertainty of the future, I had a feeling (though very small) that everything would be OK. I felt that I wouldn’t feel small for long because something bigger, better, and more real was going to take over. However, sometimes a “feeling” doesn’t provide comfort, and I had been edgy without knowing what would come next. Self-doubt started to take over because I wasn’t going anywhere; I didn’t want to remain in the same place but I wasn’t sure how to take the next step. The want of something different without the knowledge of how to get it was frustrating me.

This Monday when I woke-up I literally said, “I so fucking give up today” – and I did. Instead of trying to get to a place I didn’t have directions to I stayed right where I was – in a disheveled, cranky state. Luckily Chris was at school until 10:30PM and it rained like mad so I had both the solitude and storm to suit my mood. On Tuesday, I decided to continue the downward spiral and would have kept at it today had I not had errands to run outside.

After awhile of walking around outside in the sun, my dark mood had left and then it hit me – The Thought. The Thought came like a bolt of lightening and I just knew that my book was going to be published. I hadn’t thought about my book since I sent it off months ago. Yet somehow The Thought told me it would get published. Although The Thought didn’t tell me how, it didn’t matter. Just knowing made it OK.

When I get home I’m feeling good, excited and even a little nervous without knowing why. I check my email and there’s a new one. It’s not from a friend, it’s not site feedback, it’s not even spam. It’s from a very interested NY agent from an agency that represented my favourite book.

She says she found my web site from the Another Girl at Play site and loved both of them. She thought they’d make great books and when she saw that I was working on turning my sites into books she became excited. In fact, she was interested in possibly representing me! She ended her email with a note to ring her back.

Before I called her back I had to do two things – scream and check out her credentials. I screamed as I danced around the flat (much to the confusion of the cat) then checked out the Writers Market book as well as a few other literary sources. Sure enough, she and her agency are listed. I read about her and liked what she had to say and wanted to ring her straight back and tell her so. However, I knew I couldn’t ring her up gushing like a school girl so I decided to take a long walk to rid myself of the nervous energy.

When I finally did make the call, we talked a little about the book and my vision for it. She seemed genuinely interested and gave me some other ideas for the Another Girl at Play book. Before hanging up, I agreed to send her my book proposal and she agreed to contact me in a few weeks. We’ll see what happens with this.

Maybe this is the big thing? It’s not the new direction I was looking for since I was already on this path, but maybe this will lead me somewhere else. It’s a start, anyway and sometimes that’s all I need.

Alex

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Nov. 10, 2002

On November 10, 2002   /   General Writing   /   Comments Off

There’s a problem in America; you’re supposed to have a career in which you specialise in something and if you don’t, you’re seen as confused.

I, however, don’t want to be just a writer because there are so many other things I want to do. This isn’t a new declaration, in fact, it was just last fall that I started talking about my passion for art. Somewhere, though, my other passions were pushed aside as I focused solely on my writing.

At first, it was what I needed to do. The insecurity I felt of changing from corporate girl to writer girl was so overwhelming that I needed an easy title to grasp hold of. I needed something easy to say when people challenged my job. It was easy to say I was a writer and even easier to defend it – it just made sense.

But my longing to do other things increased and I found that I started to call myself a “creative person.” However, this brought on more challenges from outsiders. They wanted to know what kind of creative person I was, what exactly did I do, and how much money did it make. Answering all those questions became tiresome so I resorted back to just saying, “I’m just a Writer.”

Although saying that made me feel as though I wasn’t being true to myself, in time I got over it and forgot that I was anything but a writer. Even though from time to time I would feel like there was more I wanted to do, I’d ignore it.

Ironically, the way I was feeling was when I was in my office job and I tried to ignore the feeling that I wanted to write. The feeling never went away, it just intensified until it overwhelmed me.

I didn’t want to be overwhelmed by my other creative longings so this fall when I began my break from writing, I began to indulge my other passions such as drawing, painting, sewing, singing, acting, dancing and writing stories I don’t normally write.

After awhile of doing this I understand why it felt so uncomfortable to call myself just a writer; I’m not just a writer and I do not specialise in one area of creativity. I dabble in lots of areas because if I don’t, I feel like something’s missing, because really, something is.

People want titles that are easy and understandable – it’s how in America we define ourselves. But what happens when we can’t be so easily defined? Are we to ignore parts of ourselves so that others can understand us better? I don’t think so. I’m tired of pretending to be something just so I look good. The fact is, I’m not just a writer, I’m a lot of things.

I’ve never been one for titles and even though “Writer” is less uncomfortable that “Corporate Executive” it’s still uncomfortable. So now when people ask me what I do I simply say, “I write and create a myriad of things. And I play.”

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Nov. 06, 2002

On November 6, 2002   /   Inspirations   /   Comments Off

Although I declared myself a homebody for the fall and winter, cheap airfares, a friends CD launch party and the chance to visit one of my favourite cities made me otherwise.

Four days ago when I left for San Francisco, I had the feeling that I would get something I needed with this trip. I thought perhaps I would get out of the slump I’ve felt that I’ve been in, a chance to relax with people instead of the usual isolation I’m in or a creative spark that seemed to have left me long ago.

I also thought perhaps this trip would help me to figure out what to do next.

Last year I said that writing wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do, yet it’s been the only thing I’ve done. I want more, I’m capable of doing more yet I haven’t been able to manifest my wants into something bigger – I’ve been stuck.

There have been programs I’ve tried to participate in, creative writing groups I’ve tried to start and a mix of other things that I’ve tried to do to help cure me of my isolation and lack of feeling fulfilled. Despite all efforts, my feelings haven’t changed – where I am isn’t where I want to be.

It’s a frustrating train of thought because people hear my story and think I am so lucky to have the freedom that I do. I hear others say what they would give to work at home, to write all day, to be creative. Yet their envy doesn’t make me feel right. Instead it makes me feel awkward because we don’t share the same excitement for what I have.

In reality the isolation is too much for me to bear. The lack of creativity around me pains me. The inability to live out every idea I have makes me cringe. The lack of support this city offers makes me want to pack up my bags and move.

The past year was spent trying to ignore all this. By filling myself up with work and trips I was trying to escape the reality that I wasn’t happy doing what I was doing. That was hard to admit because I felt I had to to prove that living a dream is what everyone should do. It wasn’t until I read on a billboard, “If you’re livelihood isn’t making you lively, isn’t there a problem?” that I realized yes, there is a problem.

Taking time off from writing about writing, from being a role model, from trying to be only a writer, has been what I’ve needed. It’s allowed me private moments to wallow, to be angry, to be frustrated, to have new dreams and desires without having to explain any of it. It’s also allowed me to realise that I’m now at the same point I was just before I started writing – when I realized there was something more for me to do with my life and I could almost feel it, but I didn’t have a name for it. I can taste something coming on again, but what it is, I have no idea.

In San Francisco my many friends gave me the same message: visualize what you want and it will happen. I’ve had the problem of not being able to visualize anything because I haven’t known what I wanted. Without even attempting to think of what I want, nothings been happening. But I heard this message so often from so many people that I thought this was my lesson.

I picked up a CD, Higher Ground by the Blind Boys of Alabama, based purely on a friends recommendation. Two things unusual about this is that I never purchase CD’s and I’ve never listened to gospel music. When I played the first song this morning, I laid on the floor utop a quilt, the rain beating hard outside and I cried as the warmth of the song came over me:

“People get ready
There’s a train a-comin’
You don’t need no baggage
Just get on board
All you need is faith
To hear the diesel hummin’
You don’t need no ticket
Just thank the lord”

It was the same message: have faith, just believe.

I used to tell people to have faith mixed with visualization and effort and you’d have whatever you wanted, but I’ve forgotten that myself.

I’m dealing with so many different things at the moment – direction, placement, want – that I know it might be awhile before it’s all figured out. Somehow, that’s OK, I’m actually welcoming this feeling of uncertainty. I’m not trying to rush it out the door, I’m asking why it’s here and learning about where I am right now.

However, I’m still asking for the future. I’m thinking about what I want no matter how small or crazy and putting it in my special box. Somethings going to happen, I feel it. I just don’t know what – or when – just yet.

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