Join me on a journey: Roundabout to truth telling

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about Beth’s recent post, In which I stop silencing myself and tell you the truth. And I want to write about those thoughts, though I keep finding myself wandering away from writing this e and on to other places (like Facebook and Ravelry).

I know that it’s fear that keeps me from responding, writing my own Truth Telling post. So, let’s take the roundabout way.

I have three days off from my part-time job and from my graduate assistantship, because today, I was slated for jury duty. I had my summons set out, had chosen the book I was going to take with me (Fool Moon by Jim Butcher), my clothes ready for the morning. And then, Sarah reminded me to call in and see if my selection number was needed. Confused, I didn’t understand that, though I got the summons, I might not be called. And when I checked, my number wasn’t one who had to report.

I’d spent all of Monday keeping in mind that the next day or two would be filled with being in the courts, doing my citizenry duty. Now, here I had two full days with nothing planned. (I may have hyperventilated, just a little bit.)

As you know, I’ve been on the go a lot recently. Finishing the semester, working my new job, working as a graduate assistant, having some side work for a professor, cooking, working on putting a publication out there (it was rejected for the second time, but with a really nice “No, thank you” letter). I’ve been struggling to find balance, to find a way to take care of myself and still get everything done, wearing all of the hats currently required of me. There hasn’t been much unplanned time.

Now, I had two days ahead of me with nothing planned. All of the things I had to do – or could then schedule – started vying for my attention. Yet, there was a small part of me whispering, “How about writing? Meditating? Journaling? Reading? Something fun?” Because, to be honest – I’ve been tired. No amount of sleeping has been helping. It’s been a bone deep tired where I’m feeling burnt out and unable to deal with much beyond the required. (Even some of that has fallen to the side.)

So, after a three and a half hour nap this morning, I decided to spend time with my journal – not just writing, but collaging (also known as dreamboarding, except I wasn’t as specific about it – I simply looked for images that spoke to me). I spent time asking questions like “What helps me celebrate yes?” and “What inspires you?”

I looked for what felt rejuvenating and I followed that path. Yesterday, I had wandered a craft store and picked up a few scrapbooking items and a roll of washi tape (I’ve never played with it). Again, I went with whatever seemed appropriate at the time.

It felt refreshing, just to play, not think about what the words were saying or how it all was put together. So it wasn’t perfect… that was okay.

And here’s where the truth hits the screen: There are times the balanced, grateful, all-put-together self just isn’t there. And I don’t like sharing when I’m like that. (Even though I know it’s as much a part of my story as the all-put-together parts. Perhaps, the not-so-put-together self is even more important to share, to remind myself and others that it’s not about perfection or put together. It’s about the life that’s really being lived, in the here and now.)

You all know that I don’t like sharing when I’m there – how much have I really posted the past few weeks? Yeah, part of it is schedule, but the other part of it? Fear, rearing its head. Fear, taking hold and telling me that whatever it is on my mind is not worth sharing. Fear, telling me that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

What would you think of me, if you saw this? What judgment would there be? When things don’t look so put together, when it’s curling edges of journal and ripped pieces of paper? When it’s misused washi tape, regardless of how I felt making it? It wasn’t perfect. What would you think?

I talk about balance, about self-care, about the importance of storytelling. And yet, I can’t/don’t always practice them with ease. So I worry that labels of hypocrite (and worse) will be slung toward me. So I choose to not write. Because I could find time, you know? Rather than letting fear hold tight, I could simply breathe and be real, tell my story as it is happening.

Because isn’t that what being visible and real is about? Giving “shape to the face / That twists inside both you and me”?

That face isn’t always perfectly put together. And that’s okay. This is life.

This is life, lived. Full of imperfection and uncertainty and doubt.

Weekend Treats

The weekend continued as busily as the week… so, here are a few links to whet your appetite until next Friday!

Links of the Week

Muddy waters from Canffirmations
So many times, I think that this is what stops me from writing – here, the stories that long to be told, even sometimes emails.

Hand in Hand from Shared Worlds (via Neil Gaiman’s blog post)
A really neat look at some writing advice from writers, via their hands. (And Neil Gaiman’s blog post is also quite lovely, talking about voice and writing.)

The Domino Effect from Blog of Impossible Things
Oh, I love the message behind this – how we do what we need to do and become a domino. :) (There’s more to it than that. Promise.)

The man in black fled… from Flickr user Jameson42
Saw this in Zemanta as I was writing a post for M. Fenn for this coming week. LOVED IT!

Women Learn to Be Women series from M. Fenn
So, M. Fenn is a huge music lover. She’s working through a series (two posts so far) about the evolution of all-women rock bands. Really fascinating look, with great videos!

Weekend Prompting

Also inspired by this week’s busyness:

What do you need most in this moment?

Guest Post: Learn the Rules Like a Pro

Last week, I let you all know that I am seeking guest bloggers. If you are interested in joining your voice in storytelling, let me know! (And if you don’t have a blog, I’m still interested in hearing your story!)

Today, I bring you the first of the guest bloggers. Janet Lee Stinson was the first person to introduce me to writing practice. After many years of no communication, I wrote that blog post and was motivated to find her. It was through her blog, This Side of the Mirror, that we connected again. There, she draws on her wide ranging teaching experience and blogs about bringing celebration and support into the classroom. She also writes, edits, and continues to inspire over at We Inspire Futures, a website dedicated to inspiring and sharing ideas for education. Right now, Janet Lee lives a bright, beautiful, and dance-filled life. Her pictures are often tagged The best day ever! which completely embodies the energy that she brings to her life.

~*~*~*~

“Learn the rules like a pro so you can break them as an artist.” Pablo Picasso

Ballet

In my teenage years, I was a professional ballerina. I learned the steps and the foundation to the craft. During the waltz, I stretched out my arms and reached beyond that with my eyes. Of course this was “not done”. When I was injured, I got to leave that box made for ballerinas. I didn’t fit in it anyway.

 University

Most students have parties and make the most of the four years they are away from home. I started out my third year of University homeless. I stayed at friends’ houses and ate from their fridges. I lined up at the welfare office to have my picture taken. I dropped my card in the trash on the way out. My first apartment was in a bad part of town. It had bars on the windows to keep out the drunken party goers. I got a cat to kill all the mice. Both of us looked out of the window. Caught in our own web.

Teaching Job

Every night at sunset, I packed my briefcase with my gradebook, red pens and copy of Romeo and Juliet. I walked purposefully out the door and down the path to the end of the street. Standing up tall, I imagined myself in my classroom. I imagined myself with a job. I wished on the sunset. I closed my eyes until it was dark. Turning to walk back inside, I knew it would happen.

Teaching

I looked across the sea of faces to know what they needed. It was overwhelming. Teaching English was one thing, but teaching life lessons was another thing all together. Who was I to teach life lessons? I was barely old enough to understand my own life. So I pulled up a chair and sat with them. I crouched down to hear their stories keeping my own to myself. Some of them slipped past me but I think some of them made themselves comfortable in my heart forever.

Writing

I dislike revision. Since the first poem I have ever written, I have disliked revision. I mean what is wrong with what we say the first time that we say it? Is it not enough that I thought it out here? My stream of consciousness isn’t enough? I dislike revision. This being said, my job is to moderate a blog. I am the chief revision person. The leader of the pack. Maybe I don’t dislike revision after-all.

Life

So if you can have do-overs in life, why not quit your job and walk away right now? Yes, quit that little piece of yourself that you thought was propping you up. Why not walk away? Well, my dear who thought that she quit every last thing…parts of it have followed you. The lessons remain. The longing to connect will re-emerge.

You learned all those rules and now you must break them for the rest of your life like an artist!

Weekend Treats

Links of the Week

The Art of Asking: For Writers and Storytellers from Terrible Minds (via Thousand Shades of Gray)
Chuck Wendig talks about Amanda Palmer’s Art of Asking video and what it means for him.

Writing Thoughts: Dwelling on Process from Cat Rambo
A really clear look at writing process – and the act of looking at said process.

How to Be a Writer and Not Go Insane from Z. Egloff (guest post at Women and Words)
A look into one author’s writing process, and the roller coaster it can be. (And? How to get off of that ride.)

Word Choice – It Matters from the Jotter’s Joint
Gail at the Jotter’s Joint talks about finding one’s writer voice – including the vocabulary we use.

The Big Scary Thing I Do Every Week from Z. Egloff
A great look at being versus doing. And the challenge of the former.

Pixar’s 22 Rules of Storytelling from Boing Boing
#11 keeps running through my head, pounding the doors, and saying, “See!”

Story time from Canffirmations
A reminder of why I continue to tell my story, why it is important for me to do so.

My [Writing] Identity Crisis from Beth Morey
An honest and open look at writing identity and the complications and challenges that may arise.

Letting the light in from Canffirmations
Just reminds me of the quote “In our brokenness, we are blessed.”

Quote of the Week

“I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends.”
–Joan Didion, Slouching Toward Bethlehem

Weekend Prompting

Definitely inspired by the links of the week and my own thoughts as of late…

What story is aching to be told? What would support you best in the telling?

Writing identity (or lack thereof)

I’ve been wrestling (maybe not the right word, but let’s go with it) with my identity as a writer.

I know, weird, right?

I spend time putting words on paper, I push the Publish button a few times a week, I write paper and reflections for school. And yet, there’s a part of me that still struggles with the label of Writer. “Hello, my name is Stephanie and I’m a writer.” Doesn’t really flow off my tongue as easily as, say, “I’m Stephanie and I’m a student.” Or, “I’m Stephanie and I am the proud mama of four guinea pigs.” And yet, writing has been a part of my life for much longer than either of those two things. (Although school does give it a run for its money.) I more often say things like, I practice writing, I like to write, or I write. But to attribute writing as a descriptor to who I am? It happens less frequently than I sometimes like to admit, given how important writing is.

This was taken in 2008. You can believe more have been added since then.

So, what is it about the title of writer? What does being a writer mean? I mean, when I mention that I write (or try to embrace writer), everyone’s first question, “What do you write?” Ummm… that’s never been an easy one to answer, as I haven’t published anything (except blog posts), what I write isn’t neatly categorical, and as I mentioned a while back ago to a writer friend, fiction’s not my strong suit. I was having this conversation with M. Fenn yesterday after our writing date and even with her, a really good friend of mine who’s been reading along with my crazy adventures since mid-2005 and with whom I’ve been having weekly writing dates for awhile, it’s interesting to think about.

What does it “take” to be a writer? Does a writer have to publish? Does a writer have to have a by-line? Does someone need to want to get her/his stuff out there to be a writer?

What stories am I telling myself about what it means to be a writer?

As is often the case, I have no answers, but asking the questions feels really powerful.

How about you? Are there labels you don’t actively claim? What stories do you tell yourself about them?

And, if you’re a writer, do you claim the label? Why or why not? If you do, what was the turning point for you?

An empty room: Learning to find myself

Empty Room – Re Vamp (Photo credit: oddsock)

How often do we sit in empty rooms? The quiet is hard. The space can be even harder. We spend so much time filling the walls and rooms of our souls. Our stories are stacked on the bookshelves, along with others’ stories and our idea of what life should be like.

Sometimes, I feel like I’ve spent much of my life trying to follow others’ story lines for me. How to find happiness. How to find myself.

This is a thought that’s been brewing, and there’s more there, I know. I haven’t sussed out what I’m trying to say or where this will go. But, yesterday, during a joyful mid-week, post-finals writing date with M. Fenn, we used the prompt an empty room. And all of this stuff started bubbling up. I know I still need time with it, but it’s a start. It’s a thought. It’s a place that I want to go to and explore.

So, look for those in the coming weeks, hopefully. But, in the mean time… here are some of the pondering questions.

What would it be like to sit in an empty room and choose for myself what stories are told? To sit and listen to the whispers in my own heart to know what truly belongs there? To follow a path I listen for, which surfaces from my own words? What would that be like?

Announcements: New offering and new format!

Oh my goodness, friends. Two weeks both feels like forever and like no time at all. In the past two weeks, we celebrated American Thanksgiving here. We lost our tradition defying guinea pig, Alice. I have hit the frantic end of the semester. My partner is battling a horrible chest cold.

If that wasn’t excitement enough? I’ve been working on creating a new offering for you all. Pouring heart, soul, and creation into my journal and computer to get ready for this.

New Offering

Today, I am excited to begin offering the 30 Days of Building Practice workbook.
* Please note that this offering is being folded into the blog itself and is no longer available *

It’s chock full of prompts to guide you through creating a practice of your own – as it fits into your life. Using my experience with practice and my years of experience with NaNoWriMo, I’ve created what I hope will be a jump start to building your own writing practice at home.

Drawing on my processing, practicing, and desire to share this with everyone, this workbook focuses on building a writing practice that works for you – with your schedule, your goals, and your story. You set the time, the limits, and I provide prompts.

For $30*, you get a 30 page workbook, taking you through defining what practice means to you, developing your own practice, and prompts to take you through 30 days of writing.

Included with the workbook is support in your practice – a weekly check-in email from me, a private Facebook group to share your thoughts with other practitioners, a biweekly check-in conference call with other practitioners. (NOTE: The conference call begins in 2013. Also? None of these supports are required. You can interact as little or as much as you’d like.)

* Edited 12/30/12 to remove links. *

New Format

I’ve been planning a lot for V+R

As I have been spending most of my free time on the Building Practice workbook, I was not able to rejuvenate nearly as much of the “About” content as I wanted. But, you know? That’s okay. It was way more important for me to get this new offering into the world. But, let me give you the scoop on what you can look forward to in the coming month!

• There’s a fancy new header and theme here at the blog.
• Writing prompts will continue on weekdays. They’ll now also be appearing on Twitter!
• There will be content changes/movement on the top bar links, with updated information.
• Live workshops are transitioning to a workbook format. These will be themed workbooks that you will be able to work through at your own leisure.
• That said, I’m hoping to have a FREE download offering for you by mid-December, introducing you to the format.
• I will still be offering live virtual classes. There won’t be as many times to choose from, but I can’t let that go. New classes will be forming in mid-January.
• There will be less posting here. I found that daily posting is not sustainable for me. Rather, on the first Sunday of each month, I will share the newest announcements. Posts will be Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays. One day a week will be a Through the Glass Backwards vignette. Fridays will be a “mash-up” of Weekend Prompting and Weekend Reads.

So, a lot being planned. I also have brainstormed some other offerings for 2013 for you. I am bouncing in my seat even thinking about it. While I still will be offering limited live classes, I am moving toward more workbook/print options. Some will also include videos. If there’s something you want to see, please feel free to drop me an email or comment.

Welcome to the new V+R. I’m excited to see where the new year takes us!

Through the Glass Backwards: Moments of Clarity

Each Thursday, join me for my once a week practice, Through the Glass Backwards. The title of this series came from my former commute into work, when I took the light rail downtown. Even though I tend to get motion sick easily, I usually ended up facing backwards, watching as  the city slipped by. Now that I work from home, these vignettes will be a 200 word glimpse of things I see as the world outside me lives its life, and I am fortunate enough to see, but not necessarily from the light rail window.

Morning ritual

I am sitting at our white dining room table. It has flaps on the side that can be raised or lowered, depending on our needs. Before, it always had one side down, due to space. We’re living in a place now that allows the flaps to spread like wings, stretching the table out, inviting dinner parties and long conversations. Usually though, it has my schoolbooks and papers stretching across, a flood of white covered in ink.

Yet, at the start of every day, there is space to clear things to the side. My computer is placed on a flat surface to the side, papers stacked, books placed on top. I pull out my green marbled composition book, college ruled, and write three pages. Most days, my internal monologue is about the list of to dos and where does time go. But sometimes, I get tired of the same old litany, the same worship at the altar of Busyness, and want to go somewhere else. There are moments of clarity, moments when I’ve wiped the sleep out of my eyes and my brain, working to see what is really there.

When I stop trying so hard, internal doors whisper their passwords.

***

Remember, registration closes tomorrow (Friday, November 16) for the Saturday workshop, “Gratitude.”

This will be the last workshop offered in a live format.

To learn more or to sign up, check out the Current Class Offerings page.

Weekend Prompting: What are you made of?

Every Friday, there will be a prompt to lead us to the weekend. I would love to see your responses or thoughts about process in the comments. Or, even better? Leave us a link to your own blog and response there!

 

I challenge you to sit, breathing just like you do, and just see the world around you. Just a few minutes, a few breaths. Then, set a timer or page limit (for however long you want), and WRITE! Just put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard). Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just ground yourself in the prompt. Come back to it if you need to. But, for all that is good in this world, tell us your story.

 

This week’s prompt was inspired by the following quote from The Name of the Wind, a really excellent tale by Patrick Rothfuss.

 

It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.

 

The timer was set for 10 minutes.

 

***

 

I am made of blood, muscle, bone. I am made of words that have been stained into my soul. If you were to reach into my head, you’d find the neurons traveling on words, on lines of poetry and strings of sentences. I am made of single moments layered upon one another. I’m made of the people who have loved and hated me. I am made of heart and soul and coffee. I am made of greater stuff than I ever admit, because I don’t want to see arrogant – but not claiming what I’m made of is irresponsible and it’s false humility.

 

 

We don’t like to claim what we’re made of, losing the claim check in winter coat pockets, pulling it out months later, with a peppermint wrapper stuck to it. We look at the unfamiliar and generic numbers, we never can remember where we checked it. It’s too heavy, I can’t carry it, I’ll be back for it later.

But these are lessons we learn, over and over again. This is how we winnow out what’s real – what keeps coming back up? We are made of all these pieces, it only looks linear in a novel. Our own stories feel more fragmented and lonely, disparate pieces of who knows what. We look at them, scattered around and ask “This is all mine?”

Claiming, declaring, making it out own. How do we do this? How do we know what we keep? We choose and sometimes, it chooses us. Sometimes, the ways it all comes back says more about who we really are, rather than who we think we are. What am I made of?

There are days that question is testing more than others, when the depth of that question requires a diving tank, but I’ve not been certified. Doesn’t matter – I still have to dive deep, go into the places of the ocean where I can’t see a bottom, can’t see the sky.

Trust is required.

 

 

Weekend Prompting: What are you waiting for?

Every Friday, there will be a prompt to lead us to the weekend. I would love to see your responses or thoughts about process in the comments. Or, even better? Leave us a link to your own blog and response there!

I challenge you to sit, breathing just like you do, and just see the world around you. Just a few minutes, a few breaths. Then, set a timer or page limit (for however long you want), and WRITE! Just put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard). Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just ground yourself in the prompt. Come back to it if you need to. But, for all that is good in this world, tell us your story.

This week’s prompt is inspired by the impending doom that has become Frankenstorm (AKA Hurricane Sandy and a winter front meet.)

I limited myself to 10 lines.

***

I am waiting for a storm that may not come, but I’m preparing the cupboards and stocking the shelves.

I am waiting for a time when everything makes sense, knowing this will never come.

I am waiting for a sign, for something, to tell me where I’m supposed to be going, but I don’t know what to look for.

I am waiting for the night I don’t worry about what’s coming.

I am waiting for the ways to shine, but knowing I have to try in the meantime.

I am waiting for the chance to finish all the books I’ve ever wanted to read, which will be a long list indeed.  

I am waiting for nothing in particular, as I’m trying to move forward now.

I am waiting for the coffee to kick in so that I can feel something in my body other than droopy lids.

I am waiting until I have time to do the things I need to do, and sometimes, I need to make the time.

I am waiting  no longer to make the leaps that I always dreamed about; I think I’ve already started.