Thursday, January 18, 2018

January Reclamation

Some people are big on spring cleaning. Me? In the spring, I'm ready to end my winter hibernation and get out in my gardens that first have to be cleaned up since, once it gets cold in the fall, I'm entering hibernation mode and browning stalks and faded flowers in their pots have to simply lie in wait. So, I try to do my spring cleaning in the fall in order to leave time and energy for outdoor work.

In January, I go into reorganizing/clearing out mode. Maybe that's an effect of being inside the house so much the walls start to close in. I love being home. I don't love being unable to walk around outside, even only on the porch, without freezing. So, yes, the walls close in during the first month of the year when I'm trying to come out of the big holiday rush mode and my insides tell me to clear some of it out.

I've been spending several hours a day cleaning out old files and old paperwork that hasn't been filed yet, combining my writing binders and files and loose notes into one spot where I can actually find them, moving stuff around since we moved the trundle out from under the daybed and hubby made rolling bins that go in that space for all of my ridiculous number of binders to free up bookshelf space, and ("Ah choo!" Excuse me.) getting rid of some dust bunnies while I'm at it.

While sorting through all of this stuff, I ran across a couple of sheets of printed paper that I had to stop and read. It's from 2007, from over at my non-public blog on Writing.com. A blog entry, with all of the comments, where I was pondering what my "thing" was, my hook that kept readers coming back.

I'll have to say the comments were so very flattering, and because it has a lot to do with this post, I'll touch on some of them, even though it might come off as bragging. That is not my intention.

-- "fair and balanced"
-- "you have been there and done that [re. publishing]"
-- "you always write so effortlessly and comfortably about a wide range of subjects, yet you're never preachy"
-- "you're one of the few who intimidates me a bit because of that effortless style. In short, you're a natural at this writing thing and it's a joy to read anything you feel like writing about."
-- "a place of reason and calm and very stylish writing"
-- "representative of a true artist ... fine, flowing style"
-- "WICKED COOL"
-- "classy, fair, and a very good read"
-- "You make art (and not just writing) a part of everyday life."
-- "you are driven. You inspire me."
-- "Class. That's your hook. You are one of the classiest people I know."

The only reason I can share this publicly is because it made me stop and think. This was over ten years ago already, and I'm not sure I've continued to live up to all of it, maybe any of it.

You know that scene in MASH where one of Margaret's old friends tells her she's changed, she's hardened? "Well, yes," I caught myself thinking, "life can do that to you."

I have a scene between two characters that kind of says the same thing. Yes, it does, or it can, but you know, it doesn't to everyone, and it doesn't have to. We don't have to let it. I find it a little scary that I sympathized so well with Margaret. Should that be a clue to unwind? The last decade has sure been an interesting one. I went from my early Forties to my early Fifties, and every woman over 50 understands that one. I've forced myself to get out and do book signings, to the despair of my social phobia. I started a book festival in my local area, which is way out of my comfort zone, for the same reason. And then there were the upheavals and big changes, personally and nationally. But you know, every decade is interesting (and a family joke comes to mind here that makes fun of the use of the word). It's no excuse.

I think, with my writing, I've focused too much on the markets, on getting books out there, on what might sell, on what I can write in shorter bits of time, doing what I can to justify the ridiculous number of hours I spend at this writing thing, and somewhere along the line, the bigger picture somewhat slipped away. I think maybe I've lost some of my muchness. I've slowed way down lately on my books because something feels lacking. Maybe writing mainly under my pen name, which was meant to be somewhat dis-associative, worked a bit too well.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of art instead. Painting. An escape from my writing.

So, it's time to regroup, reorganize my thoughts, step back farther from social media and daydream more. I think maybe a lot of us are in this boat about now. Overwhelmed and underwhelmed. Both too stimulated and not stimulated enough. Time to grab the oars and stroke gently back and forth until we find a smooth and easy balance rather than the constant harsh rocking that's letting in too much water.

Daydream more. Turn stuff off and enjoy the quiet. Reconnect with the people actually around you. Look them in the face, not through the phone. Be driven, but be present.

That's my 2018 Reclamation project.

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