Tag: writing

capacity for delight

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studio

studio shelf

type thrift score

Ever since I gave up my “separate from the house” studio, I’ve been struggling to find a place for art in my life. I’m writing more than I ever have, but I still have the urge to make things once in awhile.

We are planning a move into a house not yet rented (but maybe found?) and I look forward to having some space to spread out. I’d love to just have all my tools out and waiting for me to accept the call of my muses even if I abandon the project midway.

I carved out a teeny space in our teeny apartment (430-460 square feet for two adults and a dog) and a few weeks ago realized that tiny as it is, it is a nice little place for me to write or toy with my art supplies.

It reminds me of this Julia Cameron (I think) quote:

“The capacity for delight is the ability to pay attention.”

I’m doing OK in this area.

For sure.

And speaking of doing OK?

Notice my vintage text thrift score…all letters (upper and lower), numbers and symbols for $8.00. I am thrilled.  Over the moon!

Have a fine day.

summer sunday

I got started late today.  I was in bed until after noon! I tried to salvage the day by making movie theater plans and dinner plans and rushing to take a shower, but there was no need. We’re  hot and lazy.  Instead we opted to stay in to eat organic Rainier cherries and drink rosewater lemonade made with edible flowers and mint. I have a nice dinner planned and we already chose a DVD to watch.

It sounds idyllic, but the only problem is that before dinner can be made, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and dishes must be washed. Maybe we’ll have pizza instead.

I have a few suggestions if you need some procrastination material and are not into facebook:

I love this man with his self-deprecating humor and fondness for his wife

Really? People suck.

Neil Gaiman on writing…I’m starting to learn…it’s the only way to go.

easy living

via

Like much of the country we are experiencing a heat wave.  Our little lakeside town is normally cool at night even after the hottest of summer days, but not this year.  It’s been too hot for a sheet sleeping weather for three nights in a row.  We live in a 100 year-old converted warehouse apartment without central air.   So far our window air-conditioner has been fighting to maintain an inside temperature of about 80 degrees.  We’ve been drinking fresh squeezed lemonade out of quart sized mason jars with lots of ice and it helps.  Mark likes his plain while I add crushed mint to mine.

We’ve been bringing our dog to daycare where she can spend full days playing with other dogs (this is not a crate-care operation-they are awesome), running through the sprinkler, splashing in the kiddie pool and taking air-conditioned naps while listening to classical music.  We’re embarrassed to tell about the classical music part, but it doesn’t cost extra.  She’s a lucky dog.  While she’s off gallivanting and chasing ice chips with her puppy friends, we’re both working from home in our underwear and standing in front of the fan.

I spent much of yesterday reworking the opening of my novel and it finally feels right. I have a lot of work to do, but I am crossing my fingers for a late fall finish.

That’s all I have for today. Except for the big tantrum I threw because somebody stole my dream job.

crescendo

Crescendo: Gradually increasing in volume, force, or intensity.

I’ve been missing for awhile and not just from this space. My health issues finally reached their crescendo (I hope) and ended in a cancer scare that was more than a scare, but as of this moment is not a reality.

Fourteen visits to my physician’s office, the hospital, ultrasounds, stress tests and a surgical procedure. It takes a toll. I am relieved and am gradually regaining my strength.

I cannot seem to muster up energy to do anything lately, but my book has become important to me in a way that no other creative work has.  Characters and places are being born.  I feel as if story is pouring into me and my insides are scrambling to make room. This has to be a good thing, I believe.

In other news, my hollyhocks are finally blooming…starting at the bottom and working their way up.

Speaking of creative projects.  My heart has been captured.  I have what she has…a gypsy box filled with crystals and other magical delights…how much fun is it to see something you love and know you have your very own?  Plus, I have a tent too.

words of wisdom from marilyn monroe

In just these two pages of Marilyn Monroe’s diary/journal/notebook one can see how she was doing her best to work through complex issues.  Some of it may be hard to read because of her handwriting.  On the first page she is realizing that she is still obeying her Aunt Ida (her foster-mother), a woman who humiliated her often as a child.

Here is most of the first section…someone had the nerve to criticize her spelling…my God, I hope no one ever sees my journals.  It makes me angry that there are people who view these words as finished poems and criticize them for being so poorly written.  What?  It is clear they were being “worked”.  It is also clear some were just thoughts.  Anyone who has ever attempted to write a poem based on inner feelings should understand the horror of dying only to have your thoughts surface as “finished works”.

Ida — I have still
been obeying her —
it’s not only harmful
for me to do so
but unrealality because
life starts from Now ….
working (doing my tasks that I
have set for myself)
On the stage — I will
not be punished for it
or be whipped
or be threatened
or not be loved
or sent to hell to burn with bad people
feeling that I am also bad.
or be afraid of my [genitals] being
or ashamed
exposed known and seen —
so what
or ashamed of my
sensitive feelings —

Other words of wisdom:

“I will be as sensitive as I am without being ashamed of it.”

“I haven’t had faith in life, meaning reality. Whatever is is or happens, there is nothing to hold onto but reality. To realize the present, whatever it may be. Because that’s how it is and it’s much better.”

“Its not to much fun to know yourself to well or think you do—everyone needs a little conciet to carry them through & past the falls.”

Marilyn Monroe

I am an avid reader of self-help and women’s discovery blogs. Let me tell you…similar words are all over the internet.  Shame is a common theme among women (men too, but they don’t blog about it as much).  I find her words sad, wise and deeply moving.

Here is a wonderful article on how they came to be.

If that’s too heavy for you on a gorgeous Saturday morning, feel free to hop over here for some culinary inspiration.

heART work

Today I will be cleaning the kitchen and working on my novel for young adults. Right now, it is my heart project.

Over the years I’ve divided projects into those that are “bread and butter” and those that are from my “heart”.  Heart projects can be bread and butter projects too, but I take them more seriously. I’m emotionally invested.

Yesterday it was decided that from this point forward I will only work on heart projects.  Life is too short.  My deal with the Universe (yes, that is Universe with a capital U) is that I write the stories or make the art and it places the work for me.  I do my part and it does the rest.  Co-creation. So far so good.

Links make your day a little more lovely:

This interview with Kyo Maclear author of the sweetest book ever.

This book trailer for the above mentioned book. The song by Basia Bulat is gorgeous!

This how-to for making wine bottle vases. It scares me a little, but I may have to try it.

This e-course. I hope you watch the trailer.

And since heart projects were the subject today, let’s get to Basia Bulat’s Heart of My Own.

the pen cannot do it without you

Keep Writing

When what you write
makes you cry,
keep writing.
When the words
are coming slowly,
or too quickly,
or not at all,
keep writing.
When the stories
won’t tell themselves
the way they showed up
in your head,
dammit,
keep writing.
When you are tired
or bored
or sad
or angry
when you are freshly dumped
when you are floating on air
when you are wicked
when you are good
when you are stuffed
when you are starving
when you are sure
there is not one more thing in the world
to say,
keep writing.
You are not here
to be significant
or meaningful
or even great,
you are here
because the pen
cannot do it
without you.
So pick it up
and park your ass
and write
and write
and write.

Colleen Wainright

 

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