Tuesday, October 27, 2015

I miss writing.  Life has gotten in the way.  I miss playing with words.  I miss connecting with them.  That’s really what I love about words.  They help us connect to each other in a different way.  A way that is sometimes more powerful than talking face to face.  Words on a page allow for such freedom and courage.  Two things that we can’t always muster in our daily communications with each other.

So here’s to writing more, even if it’s for no other purpose than to show a little freedom or courage once in a while.

Please like me

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

I’m so tired of wanting to be liked.  I’m not sure if it’s me, my age, my gender or a combination of all three.  But frankly it’s exhausting.  But I don’t know any other way to be.


Tuesday, October 7, 2014

I’m struck by hard it is to be kind to people that are not kind in return but yet how rewarding it is nonetheless.

Kindness is so underrated.  It’s probably one of the most important things you can learn in your life.  The simple act of being kind.  For some it comes more naturally than others.  But we can all be kind.  It’s a choice we make, or don’t make.  It certainly the harder road to take sometimes but in the end, it’s definitely the better one.

Some people belittle or disregard the practice of it but I’ve seen how powerful it can be in all aspects of life.

From über successful people at the very top of the corporate or government ladder to the moms at the park, it’s what sets people apart.

I look at truly kind people with such admiration and awe.  I want to be like them.  Live like them.  See the world like them.

Kindness is easy when you’re happy and everything is going your way, but when life challenges you or people are hurtful or cold or cruel towards you, then being kind becomes more of choice, more of a skill, more of challenge in itself.

During those harder times, I do my best to make that choice not only because I think it is the right thing to do but because I know that it’s a choice I won’t regret later.

There have been many times throughout my life that I haven’t made that choice.  I’ve been cold to the person that has been cold to me, I’ve snubbed the person that has snubbed me and I’ve thrown back the anger and negatively that has been thrust upon me by others.  And like many other bad and toxic habits, in the moment, it has felt great doing those things.  Revenge, vindication, in-you-faceness!  

But later on, there is always regret because it didn’t accomplish anything and just added to the negativity.  And sometimes, it made things even worse.

Those experiences showed me that it doesn’t make you a stronger tougher person when you fight back....what makes you a stronger person is when you’re kind back.  When in the face of unkindness you still choose kindness.

That’s the kind of strong person I want to be.  

Mommy alone in the house

Thursday, September 4, 2014

There are a lot of posts about how excited moms are that their kids are back at school but I feel a little sad and don’t have the same urge to celebrate.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the silence and the time to do all the things that I need to do for our life and our house but it’s also a little lonely.  I forget how lonely it is to be a stay-at-home mom.  And it’s not that I don’t have friends to hang out with during the day, thankfully, there are really great women that I can call and hang out with but there is a part of me that still finds staying home just lonely.

My summer is filled with my family around, and not just my kids and husband but my parents and siblings.  I see cousins and old childhood friends.  And then we come back home and my husband goes off to work and the kids go off to school and I’m here in the house tasked with the exciting chores that go along with that.

It usually takes me weeks to get back to feeling normal in my new routine.  I’m reorganizing my office, doing the hundreds of scheduling things for the kids and our family, and generally going through a long list of to-dos.

But my goal is to be done with that soon and start to chip away at my own goals.  Write more of my memoir (the one that I may never publish but love getting down on paper) and getting my painting room/studio together.  A room with a window and lots of colors.

Can’t wait!

September is my January...Renew, review and reinvigorate

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

September always tends to be a time when I review my life and what I’m doing with it.  

It’s a busy time getting our lives back to the routine of school, sports and a many other to-dos that are part of our school year.  But it’s also the time when we take inventory of our life and our goals and how we feel about where we are and how much we've accomplished in the last year in terms of our own benchmarks.

It’s not an easy thing to do.  I always ask myself if I’m really happier doing “this” than anything else. And then I think about the options and decide that for now this is good.  This makes sense to me.  But that doesn’t mean that I can’t make adjustments to help enrich the parts that I can enrich, the parts that are lacking something.  

But that adjustment takes work and courage.  Thankfully, September seems to be the time when we have some renewed energy for this task.  Kids are out of the house and we have a moment to reflect and decide what we need.

So let’s renew our spirit and efforts and go forward with the changes that we can make to bring a little more happiness and fulfillment into our lives.

Daydreaming and reading about writing

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

One of my favorite hobbies these days is just reading about writing.  I can do it for hours and hours.  The actual writing has been pretty slow.  I’ve done a little bit here and there but nothing substantial.  But even though I haven’t written that much lately, I still think of it as my hidden passion and something that will bloom fully one day.

In the meantime, I daydream and read.  Take a look at this great advice about writing a  novel...

How to Start a Novel:
The Willingness to be the Best and the Worst
By Albyn Leah Hall
Writing fiction is like allowing yourself to be the ugliest person in the room and the most beautiful person at the same time. The "beautiful" you swans into the party, garnering admiration, presuming that everyone else will be interested in what you have to say-- aboutanything. The "ugly" you would prefer to cower in the kitchen, scoffing leftovers in the dark.

It's a schizoid existence. The part of you that is dying to be heard is chronically at odds with the part of you that fears exposure, rejection, or being just plain bad, which brings me to my next point. In order to write a novel, you must be willing to be bad. This is especially true in the first draft; it is, arguably, what the first draft is for. (Or, in keeping with the analogy, in order to be beautiful, you must be ugly first.)

There is no easy way to do this. Every writer has his or her own way of wrestling with the demons, and I can't tell you how to wrestle with yours. However, I can suggest some techniques that I use when starting a novel; simple strategies that help to free me from my inhibitions and create a space for the work to emerge.

1) When you begin a novel, rather than thinking you must write for, say, a minimum of four to six hours a day, try to write for only one hour maximum. This means you may write for no more than one hour! Most of us harbor an image of the tortured writer; the pacing, hair-pulling novelist locked up in a chicken shed while the world spins without him. And yet, while writing inevitably entails some pain and struggle, the stereotype of the suffering, workaholic writer is your enemy. The first draft is when you must pull something out of nothing: words from the ether, or from your unconscious. If you impose a tough regime upon it before it has had a chance to breathe, you will stifle it. If, rather, you write in bite-sized pieces, tantalizing yourself with just a little each day, then eventually you will want to write more, and take delicious pleasure in breaking your own rule. (However, while you don't have to write much each day, it is important to write every day, including Sunday; even if that means just a quick scribble before brushing your teeth-- you've still observed the rule.)

Lest you think this sounds frivolous-- a hobbyist approach to writing-- I must confess that there was a time when I thought the same thing. I didn't understand why I couldn't write for hours, or even, sometimes, minutes; why I spent most of my time staring at my computer screen longing to be anywhere but there. It was a severe blow to my sense of identity; I was a writer who could not write! When a friend suggested the hour max rule, I tried it with reluctance. A year later, I had written my first novel.

In later drafts, you will probably want to write for longer. This is great, so long as you bear in mind that good writing doesn't always come from abundance. I can think of many days in which I have produced far more inspired writing after one hour than on other days when I wrote for six.

2) Write your first draft in longhand. This doesn't mean you have to write the entire draft this way, but write each chapter or section by hand before transferring it to the computer. The computer tends to make us feel that we must be excellent immediately. We are daunted by the pristine white space before us, which we think we must fill with something polished and literary. Writing by hand, ideally in some tatty old notebook, gives you permission to be messy and primitive. (The notebook is also far more portable. If you're sick of your four walls, shake up your routine; write in cafes, parks, trains. Occasionally, the noise of the natural world can help rather than hinder, a welcome relief from the more punitive voices of your own head.)

It isn't until my second or maybe third draft that I do what I tastefully call "mining the vomit for gold," transferring the work to computer, and in the process, honing the quality of the writing itself. But for now, it's a mess, and if it isn't, it should be. Scrawl and scribble; spew it out. This is as true for work that is autobiographical as it is for work that isn't remotely autobiographical; as true for comedy as an epic period novel. Like good dreams and bad dreams, it all comes from the same place. If you give yourself time to dwell there, "literature" will follow when it is good and ready.

3) Stay away from the phone, Internet, and e-mails until you have written for the day. In keeping with this, it is a good idea to write early, not only because you will be less distracted by the clutter of the day, but because you will be closer to your unconscious mind and dream state. Even if you write for only fifteen minutes, the quality of your attention will be much, much better if you have not yet filled your head with other people and the many things you have to do. Even something as prosaic as shopping for lunch or having the car fixed can throw you off completely. You'll be amazed by how difficult it feels at first, removed from your social "fixes." This is a sobering reminder of just how addicted we are to these things, and how often we use them to procrastinate! (Yet it is also a liberating, if humbling, experience to realize that our friends, colleagues, and household chores can usually hang on without us for a little longer.)

4) When you start a novel, do not worry about having a great story. The search for the "great story" is, in my view, overrated. I speak only partly in jest when I say that there are roughly half a dozen stories in the world and most books are variations upon them. The story is only as interesting as the person who is telling it. If you have a strong voice, the reader will follow it through anything. You can write a wonderful book which, on the surface, simply describes a party (think of Mrs. Dalloway, or The Dead) or a dreadful book about a prison break or espionage. When people ask how I worked out the story for my latest novel, The Rhythm of the Road, I reply that I didn't, to start with. I found Josephine, my young heroine, and she told me the story. How did I find Josephine? One night, I was watching a documentary about a middle-aged housewife who stalks a young priest, convinced that he shares her obsession. I wondered what it would take for a person to become so delusional that she is driven to behave this way. Josephine, a teenage truck driver's daughter, has little in common with this woman, but the first glimmer was ignited on that evening, by my own curiosity. Like giving birth, I conceived her, but she seemed to develop in her own right. She did so partly through my research (I'm a great believer in research, which will also help to develop the story), but also from a place within myself, a place that could empathize with a young girl so lonely that she must conjure a fantasy relationship to fill the void. In the end, it seemed to be she who was introducing me to her lonely Irish father, to the hitchhiker who becomes the object of her attention, and so on. When I could finally see how the book was unraveling, I did sit down and work out an outline for the entire story. But I could not do this until I had Josephine's voice. So remember that a story can begin in all sorts of ways, no matter how prosaic: with a question, with the way a piece of music makes you feel, with a joke, a dream, a memory, a three minute conversation you overhear in a bus. You can find an entire universe in a single moment.

Of course, I am only one writer and this is only one set of tools. Yet whether or not they work for you, I believe that the underlying philosophy applies to all writers of fiction; to write anything good, you must first be willing to take the ugly, messy, chaotic self out into the light, take it for a run, let it tell you where to go. One of the greatest compliments ever paid to me as a writer was "you must feel pretty good about yourself to let yourself feel this bad." And yet, the funny thing is that once I do allow myself to feel "this bad," it doesn't feel too bad at all. At the very least, I've gotten a novel or two out of it.

Copyright � 2006 Albyn Leah Hall

Albyn Leah Hall is the author of two novels: The Rhythm of the Road (published by St. Martin's Press, January 2007 ; $24.95US/$31.00CAN; 0-312-35944-6) and Deliria, (published by Serpent's Tail, 1994.) She is also a screenwriter; her screenplay, The Rose of Tralee, is currently in development. Albyn's childhood was divided between New York and Los Angeles, but she has spent most of her adult life in London, where she works as both a writer and a psychotherapist.

What Matters in Life

Monday, December 2, 2013

I thought this piece was so good.  It’s called 6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person.  I don’t agree with everything he says in the piece but a lot of it is so spot on and inspiring.  No matter what kind of person you think you are, it’s the actual doing of things that matters.  This applies to everything in life, whether it’s attaining material things, finding love, being a good friend, or helping others.  It’s the doing it that matters.
Here’s a small excerpt that relates to writing that I thought was so funny and true:
"Being in the business I'm in, I know dozens of aspiring writers. They think of themselves as writers, they introduce themselves as writers at parties, they know that deep inside, they have the heart of a writer. The only thing they're missing is that minor final step, where they actually fucking write things.
But really, does that matter? Is "writing things" all that important when deciding who is and who is not truly a "writer"?
For the love of God, yes.
I've known "writers" who produced less content than what's on this woman's grocery list.
See, there's a common defense to everything I've said so far, and to every critical voice in your life. It's the thing your ego is saying to you in order to prevent you from having to do the hard work of improving: "I know I'm a good person on the inside." It may also be phrased as "I know who I am" or "I just have to be me."
Don't get me wrong; who you are inside is everything -- the guy who built a house for his family from scratch did it because of who he was inside. Every bad thing you've ever done has started with a bad impulse, some thought ricocheting around inside your skull until you had to act on it. And every good thing you've done is the same -- "who you are inside" is the metaphorical dirt from which your fruit grows."