FEAR

Fear sucks.

Do I really want to do this?

Okay, I'll try to say more than that. Because fear is this thing that we all feel at times. Some people are all about confronting their fears. I know times when I've confronted a fear, face to face, and the fear ceased. And sometimes I've confronted a fear face to face and it has been awful and the face-off created new fears to arise and caused a lot of havoc in my life. So is it helpful to confront your fears, or is it dangerous and prone to backfire? I don't know. But some people are all about confronting their fears.

And some people are all about avoiding the situations and things that cause them fear. I've dealt with fears this way lots of times. Like I wanted to move in with a boyfriend once. And I'd asked him before and he said he wasn't ready yet. So I didn't ask him again. I was afraid of being rejected so I just avoided that topic for years and got very comfortable living alone until he was ready, I guess, and he needed a roommate. And then I moved in, but we never talked about how best to do it because I was afraid he'd say no and reject my ideas again. So I never brought up the fact that I didn't necessarily want to move into that place with him, but would have preferred to find a brand new place. And I rarely brought up the topic of rearranging furniture, or changing stuff on the bedroom wall, or getting rid of some of our stuff because when I tried to do this initially, I felt my suggestions were rejected because he didn't have time or he liked having all these matching but space consuming side tables and sofa set. So I stopped asking because I was afraid of another rejection-sounding answer. But sometimes, avoiding a situation that cause you fear, like driving blindfolded, is really smart. And safe. And perhaps can maintain the peace of a relationship instead of shaking things up over a minor disagreement that really doesn't have anything to do with love or commitment. You just ignore the fact that he leaves his tea bags on the kitchen counter or toss them in the compost bucket instead of letting that annoyance surface and having a big fight over a pet peeve, resulting in reinforced fear of bringing up annoyances--and those other annoyances might not be such small potatoes. So avoiding being afraid can be easy and it sure can feel like the safest option, or it can be a poisonous plant that eating a little of isn't so bad, but if you eat a lot, you're going to have to go to the hospital and get your stomach pumped.

Then some people ignore a fear. Pretend it isn't there, even though it is and your stomach is all queasy. Like I am afraid of falling down skiing or hiking or wake boarding. But I still do these things, even though I'm uncomfortable when the trail is steep and dry and I'm going downhill and my hiking boots are slipping with every step. Please, please, please DON'T BIFF IT--but hey, I'm still doing it. Maybe I'll biff it and get cut up. Or break a bone. And then maybe I will acknowledge that fear more and be reluctant to go hiking on steep dusty trails. If I don't ignore it, would I still go hiking? Or would I talk about the fear constantly while doing it and say out loud all the time "Please, please, please DON'T BIFF IT"? Ignorance is bliss, but if you aren't truly ignorant, but playing make believe, and the make believe sweet unicorn turns out to be a vampire unicorn... Eek.

And then some people just let fear take over and paralyze them. Actually, if confronting fear, avoiding fear-causing situations, or ignoring the existence of your fear backfires, well, it doesn't take much for paralysis to swoop in and stiffen your limbs with fear. I guess paralyzing fear is why I am writing about fear today. Because it SUCKS. And even when you feel paralyzed by fear, fearsome stuff still happens. Then not only are you paralyzed by fear but you are surrounded by the fearsome stuff that has mounded up all around you. You are now also frozen and surrounded by fears and it feels impossible to move. And if you move, you have to go through the scariest stuff possible and there could be more fearful stuff beyond the piles--you just can't know. Which causes MORE fear.

So I am having problems with fear. I always have had issues with fear. It doesn't feel good, so not having issues with fear seems kind of unrealistic to me. But I suppose I could have fewer issues with fear if I could learn to care less. I care a lot. About EVERYTHING. Care Bears--they know nothing about caring. And I care so much about how to do this or how to talk to y, that I don't do anything because the fear of doing it wrong paralyzes me and--whether my caring is about how best to communicate with a family member going through a rough time or about cleaning out my fridge and separating the compost stuff from the recyclable stuff from the garbage and doing the dishes so I can cook dinner--I end up doing almost nothing. I don't clean the fridge. I don't call. I obsess about my concern and how I could screw it up and then it is time to eat and I haven't called that family member or dealt with the fridge at all and I'm eating blueberries and tortilla chips for dinner because they're not stale or bad yet and they require no preparation--though I should technically wash those blueberries. I can be paralyzed in fear and concern and still eat those things. Yes, this is ridiculous and wasteful and self absorbed and stupid to the max.

So ever since I moved out of my place with Tomato and into my new old apartment, I've had scores of days where I'm just wasting my time away debating whether I should do this or that and it is because I am afraid. I am afraid I will organize my files wrong so I still haven't finished unpacking my files and desk stuff. I moved in early MAY. I haven't gone through receipts and updated my expenses and then applied that data to my "budget" that I haven't created yet because I'm collecting spending and earning data still because the project totally inspires fear in my heart because it's mounded up so high. When I was in Costa Rica, I didn't feel paralyzing fear. I did things. I dealt with the fear one way or another and if it backfired, I dealt with that. When I am out and about, I don't feel paralyzed by every decision. When I was on vacation with my family, I felt fear, but I wasn't paralyzed and not doing things. I did things. Being back here in this apartment now, after living somewhere else with someone else and having fears about us or the place or our time or how I said x or y pop up in my face all the time and having to deal with them whether they went away or not, being back here has had a somewhat paralyzing effect on me. I am afraid. I fear starting anything here or finishing anything in this space. And this doesn't bode well for my immediate future. And that doesn't bode well for my future further along. So I have to get out of the fear or get out of this apartment. This apartment used to be my sanctuary! What happened?

When I ask myself this--why am I so paralyzed with petty fears and wasting my time and sleeping hours away in a place where I used to be so industrious?--it doesn't take long for me to figure it out. I am afraid to embrace this place as my own again because that would be fully acknowledging that I live in a place on my own again and that I can't go back to that apartment I didn't want to move into necessarily in the first place because the person I wanted to move in with who wasn't ready when I first asked isn't living there anymore and I only moved in there because I wanted to live with him. And I can't go live with him because he and I don't share our lives anymore, and I hear his place is even smaller than my old new place anyway--I don't fit there, just like he didn't fit here. I am afraid to embrace this place as my own again because that would be fully accepting that I am not in a relationship where I can lean over and kiss my partner on the cheek good night anymore, fully accepting that I don't have a relationship with him at all these days, fully accepting that I am single, fully accepting that I am alone. Fully accepting that I can not entertain the idea that we can brush this under the rug and get back together for a second because it isn't going to happen, even if I don't know that 100%, another idea I can't entertain for a second because if I entertain these ideas, I will stay frozen in this apartment, I will never fully accept that I am single, that I am alone, and that I can live my life however I want to right now and that this fact alone has the potential to be exciting, productive, beautiful, and fulfilling, even if it IS going to be scary often. But being with someone was scary too. I can't escape fear. But I can avoid fearful situations if I want, or not. And I can ignore the feeling if I want, or not. And I can confront it face to face if I want, or not. But I can't let it paralyze me anymore in the place that I refer to home, even though I don't feel at home here like I did before, at least I don't yet.

Fear sucks. But it isn't going anywhere, and if I want to go anywhere or do anything in this place, I have to deal with it one way or another, and then I have to move on. Scary, but maybe it can be scary and fun at the same time. Like this...

March 31

*I learned the difference between concertos and sonatas, fugues and preludes, and what "una corda" means.
* I enjoyed a piece by my accomplice in UW's newspaper, the Daily.
* I read, analyzed, critiqued, and enjoyed a story by a writing group colleague.
* I wrote five pages, by hand, on my novel.
* I attended the Mariners' season opening day game against Texas, and was snowed on in the fifth inning (photo by Philip Smith).


* I learned that Yuniesky Betancourt's favorite web page is MySpace.
* I spent time with writing peers and felt happy that I write.
* I found out about another writing colleague's new Internet start-up.
* I came home tired but content.

Birthing

Okay. The title is for dramatics. I am not pregnant nor expecting to be in the very near future. But sheesh! Just about every single person in my peer group has either given birth in the past year and change, is about to give birth, or has plans to get birthy in the near future. Let me give you the tally and names (last names excluded for privacy of course) of the babes born in the last year and a half.
Boys:
1. Oliver Atticus--December 2006
2. Oliver Lewis--January 2007
*note that neither Oliver is my dog nephew, born in April 2007, who often goes by Shitbrains
3 & 4. Sam and Ben (technically born in May 2006 but adopted and brought home officially in January 2007).
5. Another Ben--June or July 2007
6. William IV--July 23 (my birthday!), 2007
7. Miles--October 31, 2007
8. "Banjo" (can NOT remember his real name)--January 2008
And most recently, 9. Kieran--March 2008
Please note that I can not remember the names of at least three baby boys of acquaintances that must have come out of the womb by now too. Boy crazy year.

On the girl side:
1. Sanika--Early April or Late March 2007
2. Yuki--April 2007
3. Serai--May 2007
Yup. Just three. BUT there's a baby girl due in May....
Then there's plans for a sibling for Oliver L. to be conceived this summer. And I know I am forgetting more babies. They're all over the place.

So while my friends, and Wes' friends too, birth actual humans, I am in the process of birthing other things. Broccoli starts. Peas. Potatoes. Oh, yeah, and the novel.
The novel, the novel, the novel...
Here's the good news: I am writing like a mad woman.
Here's the bad news: this is one big, fat, unhealthy sized baby.

And the four year pregnancy, ugh. Don't get me started. I don't have trimesters, see. I have year-mesters. But I'm tired of carrying around this bulge of notes and computer documents and files and books on psychiatric evaluation techniques and suicide survivors and code-cracking, and Utah, and Mormons and the Bible. I'm tired of listening to Mozart piano concertos and late 90s music to inspire my characters. I'm ready to go into labor.

So friends that are expecting--please expect a delay in receiving your infant's hand-knit booties or hat or ugly sweater or leg warmers. I am preoccupied with my own epidermal, c-section, induced labor, you name it. And forgive me if I keep running away to Idaho and pitch my cell phone into the river--if this helps me finish it, then that's the way it's going to be. And then, my friends, I will be kissing your asses and knitting goodies for all the babes like there is no tomorrow--and maybe a few of you will read the massive manuscript and help me potty train it or ween it, or whatever!

And now I must decide whether to sleep, type up a hand-written chapter, or start a new section in the book. It's 2:30 in the morning. I'm leaning towards sleep, but typing may win. Or those books on my bedside table I've been meaning to read: Eckhart Tolle's "A New Earth," highly recommended by my friend Mary and the cult of Oprah, or "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan (I've actually started this one, but then I got derailed by P.D. James. How have I never read P.D. James, what with my obsession with Agatha Christie who-done-its and PBS Mystery! However, I did come up with an idea for a new novel from one of those early Pollan chapters. Which is why I stopped reading--I had to write the concept down!). 2:30 in the morning! Why do I do this to myself--does anyone even read this thing? I read all of yours, even though I rarely comment, and I must confess, my own blogging habits are highly irregular.

It's official. Sleep is winning. But first, five things I am grateful for today:
1. Fresh snow on the fir and cedar trees and everywhere. There is so much snow here, it boggles my mind. Look at the pictures in my littl' Flickr side badge, and you'll see what I mean. I feel like I'm in a time warp, back to Sun Valley when I was really small and the snow piled up in huge heaps twice my height (then) along the sides of the road.
2. Girl Scouts and Campfire for teaching me to build a fire for a cold morning.
3. My father for not dying like he did in my dream last night (I am knocking on wood as I type) and for letting me use this awesome place.
4. The two deer who allowed me to stare at them for quite a while before prancing away in the snow today.
5. Words. They just won't stop coming out of my fingers, my mind, my mouth. God, how could I be anything other than a writer? Thank you, words, for making me eager to work, most days.

And that is all she wrote.

Summer's end....

I've been on the road a lot this summer. The warm weather took me to New York for a week in late May-early June, Pullman, WA-Grangeville, ID for a week in early July, Lake Coeur d'Alene, ID-Priest Lake, ID for two weeks in August, and, most recently, the Tri-Cities, WA for the annual Tumbleweed Music Festival.

Priest Lake is BEAUTIFUL

As Fall approaches, we're traveling to Illinois/Michigan for a week in mid-September, and have tentative camping plans for later in the month. In addition to these travels, we also have hosted many visitors, and managed to squeeze in a big hike last weekend in the Cascades.

Check out all the huckleberries we picked!

My summer also has been full of vegetables. I'm reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver currently and my awareness of the repercussions of the global food market (already fairly informed) has been heightened. This coincides with a summer wherein I've grown and consumed more local produce than ever before. For the past few years, my friend Mary and I share a vegetable box from a Community Sponsored Agriculture(CSA) program with Helsing Junction Farm of Rochester, WA, about 100 miles south of Seattle. If you are unfamiliar with CSAs, they work kind of like corporate stock or bonds--you buy a share of the farm, provide the funds to enable them to plant the seeds. In return, you receive boxes of bounty for 4 months. If the climate is fertile that year, the vegetable return may be greater than expected; however, if there's excess rain or too much sun, the yield may be lesser than desired. It's a risky investment in some ways, but it pales in comparison to the risk that the farmer takes. By extending the fruits of one's labor to the community, the farmer doesn't have to stand completely alone to shoulder the fiscal brunt of a tomato blight or drought.

In addition to bringing home a box of produce every other week this year, Mary challenged me to take my love of local produce to a new level by growing our own. Mary owns a rental property with a big plot of fertile dirt in the back. This May, Wes, Mary and I turned over the dirt, yanked weeds, and ultimately planted a nice-sized garden for ourselves. We planted tons of tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage, snap peas, green beans, squash, tomatillos, peppers, carrots, arugula, onions, basil, and cilantro. The beans were the big disappointment--hardly any popped up and we had to replant them. Likewise, I think the peas didn't yield as much as I hoped. It wasn't the hottest summer in Seattle, with the big rains in July--so the squash also has been less than prolific and the tomatoes slower to ripen. But the tomatoes sure are ripening up now! I've been trying to find use for all these great veggies--cooking lots, gifting to friends, and speculating about canning and pickling options.

Yes, I grew these tomatoes.

The downside of all these fun adventures=my writing productivity has suffered. And that knowledge really bums me out and makes these adventures and experiences less awesome in my mind. I NEED to finish this book. I NEED to move into a new stage with my writing. I NEED to see what lies beyond this story--what other stories am I sitting on? I do have ideas about next projects, but until I finish this project, I'm not allowing myself to mull them over much. Must finish book. Next time you see me, bother me about finishing my book. I may glare at you and groan, but I need as many kicks in the ass as possible.

And now, I am off to finish cleaning up my office in hopes of writing there again! Happy end of summer!

I am a bad blogger.

Truly.
Perhaps you wonder what I've been up to since my last post almost 2 months ago....
Here is the brief summary, in photos:

Amazon.
Gordon Ramsay cookware anyone?



Met my first nephew, Oliver at his home in NY.

Spent a week with W, J, & T at the Priest Lake cabin.

W's family tradition:


And that's about it. My final 826 Seattle field trip of the school year is this Wednesday. I'm writing about mattresses and gardening and receiving visitors. I hope to write more on the blog, but I especially want to write more on the book as the summer commences. Think productive thoughts!

p.s. I have updated my synopsis. If you are interested, the link is in the sidebar....

I have been writing. Really!

I've been slacking off on my writing blog. I admit it. I have been writing though. And thinking about writing and structure and plot and character development and all those fun, fun things! But I also have been doing a little of this:Writing content for Amazon.com. Good times. This has been my primary source for dough for three full years now. And guess what? I'm about to re-up my contract as an independent contractor (i.e. freelance writer) for yet another year. To which I ask myself, "Are you mad?" Sure, I whine about my Amazon assignments all the time. You would too if you had to think up content about some of these things:

A log splitter!

A hose connection set!


A Ferrari projection clock!


A leopard-pattern hooded pet bed!


The Happy Dog Toys Bubble Kitty Cat Toy!


Lone Star Metal Detector!

Happy tableware set!


Rachael Ray fondue set!

AND, of course, these guys!

But for all my whining, I must admit that Amazon.com does pay good money, that I sometimes enjoy writing about this junk, that I have definitely learned about what you might use to reseed a lawn and what LCD stands for (liquid crystal display), and that I know more about grammar and style than before. This Amazon.com deal works for my erratic writing swings, frequent travel plans, occasional teaching gigs, and volunteer adventures. So, yes, sign me up for another year. Anything to keep the bills paid until A Bug Stuck in Amber comes to print. Don't you dare ask me when that will happen.

Lately, I've worked on drafting a new time line for the novel's plot to unfold. Right now, I'm not worrying about implementing new time line, but I've got two Publisher calendars: one for the time line that the book currently follows, and one for what I'd like it to ultimately follow. This detail stuff takes WAY too much time and I suspect no one will notice any lingering inconsistencies in the long run, aside from myself and my writer cronies. I've also been working on some decryption scenes where Sam, Ozzie, and Charlotte decipher a message left in a piece of music that Amber mailed before her suicide. Another task that takes WAY too much time. Word count progresses slowly, but this groundwork is essential as I start trying to tie up all the loose ends. That's the goal. Start tying them all up. All 100 of them. This thing is going to be epic. And great, I think.

As I sign off to walk around the block on a GORGEOUS spring day in Seattle, it occurs to me that I should probably put up a chapter synopsis and character outline to provide blog readers with some context for my novel ramblings. I shall work on that. Tomorrow.

Rejuvenation and Resolution

I'm declaring March 1 my new "New Year's Day."

You don't have to follow my example. I mean, really, who am I to tell you that New Year's Day should actually fall two months after January 1st? And about two weeks after Chinese/Korean New Year's? Or a week and a half after Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday? You are not obliged to follow my example. In fact, you shouldn't. Everyone should have their own personalized New Year's Day--the day of the year that gets you pumped up, enthusiastic, and ready to start something anew (or new). For me, that day has, for the last two years, fallen around March 1st and the Whidbey Island Writers Conference.

Anyone who has visited Whidbey Island--or any of the San Juans in the Puget Sound/Strait of Juan de Fuca waters--knows that this is a stunning region to pass a few days. Rain or sun or snow, I don't care. It is divine. Wednesday evening, I arrived on Whidbey during a surprisingly thorough snowfall. I took a Community Transit bus from the U-District. I have to commend my bus drivers who, due to the sudden onset of the snow storm, did not have chains on and had to drive up and down some steep, snowy hills amid a plethora of Bad Seattle Snow Drivers (BSSDs--I swear, this city takes the cake, abandoning cars on floating bridges and express ways to walk home instead). My drivers were wise to show so much caution as we passed two jack-knifed Community Transit buses en route to the Mukilteo/Clinton ferry boat. On board, I listened as people complained about their treacherous commutes. My writer friend, John, met me near the ferry terminal on the Island and we drove back to our temporary homestead, a 2-bedroom house that perched atop a hillside overlooking Admiralty Bay and Bush Point. The roads were dark except for the headlights on John's Honda, which illuminated the snow-glazed pines along the road. The world felt so still. Outside the cabin, I studied rabbit footprints in the snow. The clouds parted to let the moon sneak out, along with a handful of scattered stars. Inspiration curled its way from the snow beneath my feet, through my toes and ankles, thighs and hips, belly and breastbone, up into my lips, eyes, ears, crown, my mind. I let it seep through me and in the morning, when I awoke, I was hungry for more.

I spent Thursday walking in sunlight, watching the snow melt gradually--dropping off the boughs of trees and power lines overhead and mushing under my hiking boot heels. I ventured to the South Whidbey Island State Park to wander. A far-off deer and I engaged in a staring contest. The deer won. In the blue morning sky, a bald eagle circled. In the afternoon, when the clouds came in again, I walked down to Bush Point to the beach and collected beach glass. A blue heron hunched over on a piling 25 yards from the shore. I went to bed refreshed and ready to learn.

For me, the conference began officially on Friday. After a ho-hum keynote address by an editor at Hyperion (she was really all over the map) and a panel of lit. agents and editors (interesting, but I'm not there yet), we broke into our groups for the afternoon Fireside Chats. Fireside Chats are the WIWC's signature event, where island residents graciously welcome writers into their homes for an afternoon of discussion. There are fireside chats for most interests and genres of writing: publishing, nature writing, humor, screenplay, poetry, short stories, literary fiction, mystery, romance/erotica, childrens, YA (young adult). Both years, I signed up for the literary fiction chat. While I enjoyed myself thoroughly last year with oral storyteller Jack Dalton and novelist Chris Bohjalian, this year blew last year out of the water. If you know anything about contemporary literary fiction, you should recognize some of these ladies and you'll know that they are pretty much literary ROCK STARS: Dorothy Allison. Karen Joy Fowler. Gail Tsukiyama. Jane Hamilton. AND our island resident host? Elizabeth George, author of the Inspector Lynley books and subsequent BBC/PBS Mystery! series. I about blew a brain gasket. No joke.

So I could have been speechless and googly eyed all day. But these women are so down-to-earth, funny, smart, and thoughtful, I forgot to be awestruck. After listening to them talk about creating vivid characters (Karen), powerful openings (Gail), the quandaries of plot in literary fiction (Jane), and writing violence (Allison--by far the most incredible talk I heard all weekend), I felt so safe and warm, why not ask them my questions? I asked them what they did to make ends meet before they published successful novels and what they do now. And I asked them how they retained balance in their lives between their work and their personal relationships with family and friends. And they each gave me the most thoughtful responses: Making ends meet before? Odd jobs and husbands and sheer desperation. Making ends meet now? Teaching at conferences, serving as writers as residence, judging literary contests, husbands, short story sales, an advance now and then. Balancing art and relationships? Apparently this struggle doesn't ever stop--Karen said her marriage almost collapsed in the first few years of her writing success, Dorothy tries to take an away residency every other year that avails her alone time to write, and Gail is the single girl, though not necessarily by choice. The most beautiful thing about these gals is their tremendous friendship. They're best friends! I am so excited about the prospect of making such awesome writer friends, and I covet those I already have--there is nothing like spending a few days with a group of like-minded artists who know how to laugh too.

The weekend offered more opportunities to learn from seasoned writers and meet others who are in the throes of that first novel too. I could go on and on and on. But I've already over-indulged my urge to gush. So, a new year begins today. I WILL finish a complete draft of my novel this year. I will also post here about writing much more, as apparently the agents like to see that. Some posts will be about my writing adventures (like this one), some will be more craft focused, and some will be excerpts of my writing. I promise not to post bad poetry--at least not often. And only for laughter's sake.

Coolest Fundraiser EVER!

Of late, I have been volunteering for this great organization, 826 Seattle. 826 Seattle is part of a greater 826 network started by Dave Eggers of McSweeney's fame in NYC. The organization is committed to fostering creativity through writing with children, via creative writing classes, after school tutoring, publishing endeavors, and field trips. In particular, I've been leading Storytelling field trips and performing as an "actress" in the Screenwriting field trips on Wednesdays or Thursdays once a week.
In the Storytelling field trip, I help an elementary class develop the four criteria for a good story (setting, characters, plot, conflict), and then we write the first three pages of a story together. At the end of the third page, we leave it at a cliffhanger, at which time all the kids go to the writing tables and write their own ending to the story. We print off the first three pages and the illustrations (drawn on the spot by an artistically gifted volunteer) and bind them into books for the kids on the spot, with photo stickers and about the author stickers on the back. VERY COOL! I love doing this! I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to spread the love of writing zany stories with kids from all over Seattle!
Anyway, below, you'll see a banner and blog link for 826 Seattle's latest fundraiser. AND it rocks! If I could grow a mustache, oh, I would! If you feel inclined to pledge a mustache farmer, I suggest Brock, Tim G., Tim M., or Joel, because they volunteer with me. Otherwise, help spread the word! Go youth literacy and creative writing!