Scarlett Letters

I have been a writer my entire life. My first publication came in third grade, when the class published a newsletter. My audience was 30 kids and, possibly, their parents. I don't remember the specifics of the article, but I do remember one moment of editing, when my teacher changed the sentence, "Each student made up Indian names for themselves" to "Each student gave themselves Indian names." Factually speaking, her edit was incorrect, because we were never given guidelines or resources for finding actual native American names. We made them up, based on what we'd read in some book or seen in some movie. I remember it irked me. Yes, in third grade, I was capable of being irked. About being edited. Oh, the irony.

( Beneath the cut: some history )

The last couple of years, there's been almost no writing at all. What little I've tried has been almost painful. Rejection, somehow, has gotten harder to take rather than easier. And I just . . . just stopped. Except for occasional forays on Live Journal, there's been nothing. A lot of the lack of creativity has had to do with depression. As I’ve written about here before, for a while I was surrounded by people with cancer, which took me back to my core trauma (my mother’s death) and pretty much paralyzed all of my art—whether it was writing or making jewelry or photography or singing.

I began thinking recently that I really need to write again. Fiction feels hard right now; it feels sensitive and sore, too hot and painful to touch, like it’s a big part of the wounds of the summer and fall. So, I’m taking a page from Inigo Montoya (who took a page from Vizzini): When the job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning. I’ve pulled out my copy of A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver and started to read and take notes. I’ve also started to write each morning, a couple of pages of whatever comes. I’ve had a couple of ideas for poems. I’ve been looking over older work, wondering why I didn’t submit some of the pieces I’m seeing now with fresher eyes. I guess we’ll see what happens from here.

Weather
First of all, it's hot. I know, I know, it's summer, it's supposed to be hot. But in Seattle, summers are typically warm and mild. The last week or so, the weather has been scorching: sunny, uncharacteristically without rain and, yesterday, humid--at least by Seattle standards. The level of the strangeness of this weather cannot be overestimated. Let's put it this way: when I want it to get overcast and rainy? You know something is wrong.

The day job
Work has been strange and stressful. Our team was reorganized a couple of months back--or perhaps it's more correct to say that our team was nuked from orbit, because it was the only way to be sure that the new chief marketing officer had the team she wanted, and refocused the company on sales. The result of this reorg is that a team that worked like a well-oiled machine, a team that everyone was pleased with, has been split into four, maybe five other groups. There is no more web team. We're all pieces of other groups now. No one communicates with anyone the way they used to, mandates and goals for the website aren't being shared effectively and many of us are feeling like we've been set adrift, occasionally pushed in what may be the right direction, but no one knows for sure. Either the workload has increased, or we're feeling the loss of protection as a group that we had while our old director was still with the company. (She was laid off as a result of the reorg. She was a friend and mentor to me and I miss her keenly.) It has been stressful and has resulted in all of us feeling like we're casting about in the darkness for the right handhold so that we don't fall down an unseen hole.

I threw a fit earlier this week because, as the result of one (smart but poorly considered and incompletely conceived) mandate, our design team forgot a key piece of the design for a new feature on the website. I talked to every manager who would listen to me. As the message was communicated up the chain, the reaction was, "What? Wait. We missed . . . what? That's important? Well, crap. OK, you're right. Let's fix that . . . when we have time." It was a slow realization, like management was waking up from a drugged stupor, and I'm still not convinced that it's going to be properly addressed. Why did I make a fuss? Because I was asked to write copy for this incomplete design and couldn't finish my work because the workflow obviously had holes in it. I actually lost sleep over it. I had trouble speaking about it because I was so upset about it. This is so not me, and it's a result of the new environment at work. It's like people just aren't paying attention to anything except what management turns its fickle, ADD-addled eye upon next rather than focusing on steady progress to key goals. There are squirrels in the process everywhere.* It's making work a less-than-pleasant place to be.

Writing and editing
Well, the Kobold Guide to Combat wasn't nominated for an ENnie Award. I'm disappointed but not surprised. I know that an award nomination is not an indication that a project has been a failure. It's a good book; it's just not at the very top of its category--in a year that was very strong indeed. It was an ambitious project and, of all the books in the series, it was the hardest to pull together. Some writers whom I thought could deliver just didn't. Others didn't deliver what was asked of them. From this I learn that I need to better scope out the writers I choose for projects. I learn that some writers are great storytellers but not non-fiction writers. And I learn that when I make an assignment, I have to be crystal clear about the requirements and the goals of the essay and the project. In some cases, I probably wasn't.

I also learned that I need to make better choices about how and when I take on a project. This was the right project at, I suspect, the wrong time. It's why I'm taking a hiatus from the Kobold series. I love working with the Kobold team and the_monkey_king. I loved those projects. But they meant that I wasn't writing. And the time of the year that the work came meant that I spent a beautiful summer indoors editing, which made me restless and dissatisfied.

On the writing front, I've been working on my Mary Todd Lincoln story all spring in fits and starts due to time constraints and it's making me unhappy. I should be done with the story by now. I want it out in the world. But it's not finished and, as a result, I'm falling a little out of love with it. I've never been a fast writer. I'm hoping that this torturous process won't kill this story for me the way it has others that I've adored. ::sigh::

Other stuff
There's other stuff I want to write about--my weight, the challenging emotional environment I'm dealing with right now, my utter inability to declutter the house, my lack of travel and the empty prospect for same--but it all seems kind of overwhelming. I think what it all boils down to is that I may need to do what I promised myself I'd never do again: get back into therapy. The level of "I don't want to" is pretty high in that direction, and yet a lot of what I've been thinking and feeling has suggested that I really need to do it soon. It doesn't anger or frustrate me. It just makes me sad.

The holiday weekend is upon us, and I'm looking forward to some dedicated Me Time--which I haven't had in weeks. I may be inviting some people into this time, but I'm going to be careful about who. I need to foster the relationships that nourish me and, for once, listen to my inner self about not letting those that don't drain my energy completely. I need it for me.



* In case anyone, years from now, reads this journal entry and doesn't understand the squirrel reference: SQUIRREL!

State of me: There's been a lot going on emotionally lately, things I have a hard time talking about. It's left me feeling tied up, strapped down. There are a lot of things I can't say to anyone ever. I've thought about finding a therapist, but I've spent so much of my life sitting in therapist's offices that the thought just exhausts me. And so here I am, with my . . . stuff. The worst of it is that I'm self-medicating with food. While I haven't undone everything I achieved a few years ago with my weight loss, I've undone a lot of it, which is another source of personal unhappiness.

Work: One thing I'm not afraid to vent about is the day job, the thought of which also exhausts me. When I took this particular job, I had some very lofty goals in mind. Those lofty goals got lost in the minutiae of the day-to-day and in office politics. This team isn't actually very political, but there's one person who's a little bit of a nightmare to work with. Personally, we get along well and share common interests. Professionally, she's kind of a minefield. I've already had informational interviews with another manager in an effort to explore my options outside my team. I hate the thoughts of leaving my team because I like most of them very much, but it's clear that my role is a dead end, and it's clear that if I stay I'll be subject to Miss Minefield's behavior regularly. It's making me anxious and angry. I've spoken with my manager about it; I've spoken with my grand-boss about it. I'm also considering broadening my search.

(As a side note to allanh, I'm developing a finer appreciation for what you're experiencing at work. This morning, I'm all out of f*cks to give. Today's mantra is, "If they want this sh*tty copy on the site and are willing to escalate to get it, that's exactly what I'll post. And I'll make a point to let everyone know whose responsibility it is. 'Cuz it sure ain't mine.")

Work on an uber-scale: I'm 52 years old. For much--not all but much--of my life, my day job has been that most necessary of necessities rather than a true vocation. My true vocations have been relegated to avocations: writing, art, photography, singing. I lay this at the feet of the loud old voices in my head that have proven harder to shake off than I ever would have believed. Part of it is that I haven't done the necessary work to not just shake them off, but silence them well and truly. It's hard. But at some point, I just have to shut them all up and make some decisions about what my priorities are. Time is growing shorter by the day (a fact which has been hammered into my awareness the last few years and especially lately) and if I want to achieve any of the dreams I had, I've got to get on the stick. Do something different. I've done two things so far: 1) I've started perusing the classes at Coursera.org. My thinking is that if I'm going to make a significant change in direction I need to dip my toe into a couple of different areas before I submerge myself; Coursera is one way to do said toe-dipping. 2) I've picked up some colored pencils and have been coloring mandalas in a Dover Publications collection. I have found it to be meditative and calming. Also quite satisfying. By the time I finished coloring my second mandala, I found myself wanting to do something more original. We'll see where that takes me.

Writing: I am in a tough spot. This is another area where I just can't . . . talk about what's going on. I hate it (being in the tough spot, not writing). I want to write. It's a struggle every damn day.

Edited to add: Here are the mandalas mentioned above. I can't take credit for the designs, but I did the coloring.

I realize that I don't post quite as often as I used to, so here are five things that are going on around here to catch you up a bit.

1) New light fixture: Since about a year after I moved into my condo (and this is a long time ago now), the light fixture in my great room has been broken--not smashed-broken, just non-functional broken. I finally decided a couple of weeks ago to do something about it. A neighbor of mine does electrical work, so I had him come in to look at the thing; it was definitely time for it to go. (I thought there might be a wiring problem in the wall, but it was the fixture itself.) Last weekend, I went light fixture shopping and purchased this really cool pendant light (except mine won't have the yellow stripe in the catalog shot) that I think will look great up there. I'll probably end up buying a couple more to replace the light in the kitchen and in the main downstairs room (though that second one will require more work than a mere replacement). Very excited for its arrival and installation.

2) New glasses frames: I recently had an eye exam and my prescription has changed--as my prescription is wont to do. It amazes me that my vision could get any worse than it has been, but there it is. New glasses frames--a serious departure from what I have now--are on order. I promise pictures where they arrive.

3) Rainforest Writers Village and writing: On Wednesday, I depart for my annual retreat to the rainforest. I'm looking forward to it for many reasons, but I also go with some trepidation. I've had increasing trouble writing fiction, wound up with feelings of inadequacy, despair about success (a self-fulfilling prophecy when one doesn't submit, I admit), poor discipline and so on. I'm looking forward to some concentrated time to not only write, but to evaluate what I want and what makes sense in terms of my energy and effort. So much of my self-image is wrapped up in writing and editing. I need to examine it all much more closely than I have lately. I don't know if it's a signal of my trepidation about it all, but I've been having trouble even cleaning the house in preparation for my absence.

4) Knitting: I continue my experiment in loom knitting by working on an infinity scarf, a how-to which I found in, of all places, a cooking blog. I know I've already made a scarf, but this one teaches me a new stitch on the loom as well as requiring me to learn how to do a different kind of cast off and how to flat seam a piece together--three new techniques in one project, so a second scarf project is justified. There will be pictures at some point.

5) Reading: I have been a restless reader lately. I abandoned the Jenny Lawson memoir "Let's Pretend This Never Happened"--I found the voice just repetitive and obnoxious after a while--and have moved on to the third Aubrey/Maturin novel, "H.M.S. Surprise," which I'm enjoying just as much as I did the first two. After a string of unfinished reading, this one I may complete. I've picked up so many new books lately that I'm actually a little cowed by deciding what comes next. Something surely will come next, however. Surely.

In the wake of the weekend's festivities (the Locus Awards, to be specific--which included the company of many most excellent folks), I decided that because I was pretty peopled out, rather than going to meet the usual suspects for writing this morning, I'd stay home and write by myself, well, in the company of the usual pussycats. But here's what's happened so far:

--I've done laundry
--I've washed the dishes
--I've paid some bills
--I've researched how to properly thin carrot seedlings (because the balcony garden grows apace)
--I've prepared a bag of stuff to donate to Goodwill, which I'll be visiting later today

And every time I've gotten myself to sit down to write, I've popped up again like a jack-in-the-box to get something to eat.

Hmmmm.

That's self-medicating behavior. That's insecurity and unhappiness. Mostly, what it is, is not believing in myself. Not believing that the time will be well-spent. Not believing that, once the work is done, anyone will want to read what it is I've written. There's been lots of rejection the last couple of years. In my own head, my hyper-critical self keeps saying that this project is really a pretty midlist sort of idea, nothing that will really break out--what's the point of the exercise?

Years ago--we're talkin' years here--bravado111 said to me that I get in my own way better than anyone he's ever met. See above and witness the getting-in-the-way behavior. But it's outward. The getting-in-the-way behavior is really the stuff that happens in my head. That's the real toxicity. Even writing this post is avoidance behavior.

I don't know how I get out of my own way except to sit down and do the work.

I want to want this so bad that I can't get in my own way. I want to believe it will be worth it. It's always a fight for me.

On with the fight then.

Wednesday morning, I packed up the rental car, picked up mcjulie, and headed out to the Olympic Peninsula for the Rainforest Writers Village Retreat for 4.5 days of being nothing but a writer. Rainforest is held on the shores of Lake Quinault, and it's a beautiful location for getting away from it all. Or from most of it--whatever it may be. In this case, "it" is daily life, the day job, the kitties (whom I adore but who want attention at just the moments I don't have it to spare).

I started the retreat by journaling longhand, mostly about issues I've been dealing with around my writing. I journaled on and off throughout the retreat, and still have more that I want to do. I spend quite a bit of time here on LJ being reflective, but when it comes to my writing, I'm finding I need to keep those thoughts private and off the web. I want it to be just me and my pen moving across the page.

I wasn't sure what fiction I was going to work on during these days. Just as I was leaving, I received an invitation to write a story as part of a shared world anthology, so I decided I'd spend my time working up a proposal for the idea, send it along and, if it was approved, work on the story. Well, it was approved, so that's what I worked on. I have no illusions that acceptance is guaranteed. But the structure of having an assignment to work on gave me a framework for moving forward, so I grabbed it and ran with it. The work went pretty well, though with the typical ups and downs (this is a great idea; this is awful; I'm not a writer; maybe I am a writer; oh God, what the hell have I done?; no one will want to read this; hey, this isn't bad; well, maybe someone will want to read this. . . . and so on). In the end, I have most of the story in first draft, but need to finish writing the last two scenes.

In the meanwhile, I attended a couple of the scheduled talks and I participated in a panel discussion. My panel asked the question, "How literary should your commercial fiction be?" and we had writers and editors from across the spectrum speaking on the subject. We worked toward defining the difference between commercial and literary fiction; one remark that really stuck with me is Nancy Kress's insight that that commercial fiction is about resolution and the literary fiction is about resonance. The best fiction achieves both and is, therefore, both an elusive goal and one that, as writers, we ought to aspire to, whether or not we succeed. It was a good discussion. I don't know if we solved anyone's conundrum on the subject, but it got us all thinking and that, for itself, was worth the exercise.

I attended John Pitts' (that's bravado111 for the LJ literate) talk about imposter syndrome (something I know a little something about). His insights were sharp and instructive; he talked about the concept of trading up your problems each time you achieve a new level in your writing, and about how the self doubt we experience as writers never really stops, just manifests itself differently along the way. Smart guy.

I also attended jimvanpelt's talk, "Once is Accident; Twice is Plot" about repetition helping to build plot and theme, reinforce metaphor and motif, and create resonance. It was an excellent talk, for me the best discussion experience of the retreat. As illustration, he passed out copies of Bob Shaw's remarkable short story "The Light of Other Days" as an illustration of these ideas; the story blew me away and is an excellent example of a classic technique. Learning is often being reminded of what we already know; Jim did a great job reminding all of us about this key mechanic for creating effective fiction and I was grateful for his time and effort. And, boy, is he a good teacher! His students are fortunate to have him.

And then, of course, there was just a lot of quality time with quality people. I spent the best of my time with davidlevine, and got to visit well with Brenda Cooper, Rob Sawyer, Ace Jordyn, Barb Galler-Smith, Allan Rouselle, Manny Frishberg, and Louise Marley among so many others. I also met some new people, among them Gary B. Phillips and Stephen Merlino in particular. But the retreat was filled with marvelous people, terrific and insightful writers, and I reveled in the great talk and the good company.

What else did I do? I got to visit the world's largest sitka spruce. I attended Louise's excellent yoga classes in the mornings. (I really ought to do a little more of that--yoga, I mean.) I took pictures, all of which you can see at the Flickr set. I picked up a couple of books (John Scalzi's Redshirts and jimvanpelt's new collection of short stories, Flying in the Heart of the Lafayette Escadrille). I walked, though not as much as I would have liked; it was simply too wet (see above re: rainforest). And while I had good meals with everyone, we did get over to the Lake Quinault Lodge with a terrific group for one meal:


At the final closing party, my name was drawn for a door prize, and I received a gift certificate to the resort gift shop. I used it to pick up an attractive rain forest souvenir hoodie (the first I've really ever owned) and a pair of silly socks with cats all over them. Yay!

Overall, I had a marvelous time and am so glad I was able to go on the trip. On the way home, mcjulie and i stopped at Shipwreck Beads, the Pacific Northwest's mecca for beaders and crafters, always a wonderful and overwhelming experience, where I picked up a gorgeous strand of banded agate that I will be stringing into a work-appropriate choker. It was a nice cap to the days away.

Now, my challenge is to maintain the momentum I created these last four days. I believe I can do it. I'm going to work to prove myself right!

1) Did I mention that I put three stories in the mail on submission last weekend? Well, I did.

2) Perhaps I'm last to the party but I just read that the current issue of 10Flash Quarterly is its last. I'm sad that we're losing such a terrific flash magazine (especially since I was there partly to read and partly to look for upcoming issue themes), but I'm happy for K.C. that she's moving on to other opportunities that excite her.

3) varina8 and I went to the theater last night and saw "The Pitmen Painters," a play about a group of miners in England in the early 1900s who start taking an art appreciation class and end up being a highly lauded group of artists. With its historical basis and setting, and its excellent performances (including, among them, one by my longtime associate Frank Andrew Lawler), it provided a fine evening's entertainment.

4) I've been Jewelry Girl this week, making a new bracelet for myself in celebration of acquiring and wearing the first above-the-knee skirt I've owned in decades. And I bought materials for a new choker necklace which I hope to make either this weekend or this coming Tuesday night at mimerki's place, depending upon my patience and the availability of time for such a project. It won't take long, but leisure time, these days, seems to be at a premium.

5) Research for this autumn's trip continues apace. I really do need to do a proper post about this oncoming expedition--but that's for another time. But...trip planning--yay!

BONUS ITEM: 6) Had a wonderful lunch with kijjohnson at the 5 Spot yesterday. Seattle is just a better place when she's here. She looked fabulous, and it was good to catch up and just bask in her presence. Word has it we'll have more of her a little later this spring--all to the good.

In other news of the world, a couple of things happened over the last 8 days that bear noting.

First and most important is that I interviewed for and got a job. I'll be working as a content specialist for the Microsoft Legal and Corporate Affairs group (LCA), helping to manage their intranet site. It's a vendor position, but it appears they were looking for someone who would be willing to make a commitment longer than one year and were impressed with me. (I was described as having gravitas. If only they knew....) I'm actually quite excited about it; the work looks interesting, and the people I interviewed with were smart and aware. It's looking like I'll be officially starting either Thursday or Monday. That gives me a few days to get my life in order before I start with the Eastside commute again.

Second, for the last 8 months or so, I'd been planning to attend the Rainforest Writer's Village at Lake Quinault. I was really looking forward to it. The original plan was to arrive there this past Wednesday. When markbourne's funeral was scheduled for Thursday, I considered not attending at all. Realizing that Mark would have objected to such a choice and that my own disappointment at the idea of not attending was massive, I decided to stay for the funeral and arrive at the retreat late. davidlevine and I left for the peninsula on Thursday afternoon and stayed through Sunday afternoon. It was a good retreat. I got 3,000 new words written. (It's less than I would have preferred, but more than I would have done otherwise. Had the circumstances not been what they were, I suspect I would have been much more productive.) I made some key discoveries about the structure of the novel and have a better understanding of where I am and what needs to be accomplished. And I had some quality time to do some recuperation from last weekend's events. (I have no illusions about being recuperated, but this time away really helped.) The Rainforest Resort is rustic but the setting was quite beautiful: very lush, very picturesque. And it was good to spend even a little time with folks I don't often get to see. I hope to download my photographs today and to post them. I'll post a link when the Flickr set is live.

1) Saw "The Artist" last night--perfectly delightful. It's part "A Star is Born" and part "Singing in the Rain," and there's nothing gimmicky about it. Dujardin, depending upon how he was being shot, reminded me of both Clark Gable and Gene Kelly. I hope we see more of him in the US. Nice performance. And Berenice Bejo was adorable. Just a terrific movie all around.

2) Had dinner last night at The Hi-Life and had forgotten how good the menu is there; the food was just wonderful and that drinks menu is to die for. Between the food and the movie, it was a terrific evening all around.

3) Going to the Aquarium today for their Hawai'ian day. Will be dressing in my aloha dress, sufficiently augmented for cold weather. My companion and I must be crazy; I think it'll be lots of fun.

4) Downloaded Scrivener late last week and have been organizing the novel using its features. I'm already seeing the benefits of using the tool, and I suspect it's going to give me exactly what I need to get back on track and get rolling again (because, frankly, it already has).

5) I've had some marvelous meals over the last few days in most excellent company, but the fact is that I've been more off the wagon than on in terms of my food program. I need to really get back into the swing of things in a serious way. There's been a little more indulgence than I've done in a while and I'm feeling it. As delightful as it's been, I need to fix this.

As a reward for finishing work on one of my two freelance jobs tonight, I pulled out the story I thought I might read at WorldCon, did a read-through . . . and discovered that it's 15 minutes too long for my allotted time. Trouble is, its length is about my average length for short fiction, and while I've considered chopping off the first scene and inserting some of the key information later in the story, it still wouldn't make the story short enough to fit in the time slot.

So I'm wondering: do I cut it? Do I just pick something else? Do I read up until a certain point and just leave it as a cliffhanger? Any advice would be welcomed.