The antithesis of writer's block

As all professional writers can attest, some projects, articles, essays, books, do write themselves. And those are wonderful, wonderful moments. It's as if everything just falls into place and the words flow from fingertip to keyboard without the normal frustration, self editing and nagging self judgement. I love it when this happens. It is the antithesis of writer's block.
  I have been experimenting with intention-setting. You know, setting a goal in my mind and then just leaving it alone to unfold. Now, when I come to a difficult story or article, column or other piece of work that needs to be done and I can't seem to get it to flow, I am now stating to myself and the universe, 'this will write itself." I did that this morning because a particular article with a looming deadline doesn't enthuse me. I have been hitting dead ends for sources and I just dislike the whole assignment. I have been doing this long enough to know that likes and dislikes don't have a place in my working world, so I have enough discipline to put that aside, and like a lawyer defending a scallywag, will devote myself and my skills to doing my best.
   Once I told my husband that I had determined this story would write itself, the dam broke and the flood of help met me. Two informative sources literally fell out of the sky, and helped shape this heretofore shapeless mess of a story. I hope against hope that I have discovered a new way of tackling this kind of writer's block.

White Winter Hymnal

One of the many perks of having kids is that you are forced to stay hip with not just pop culture but with music. And if your kid is anything like mine, it means lots and lots of music, since he is a musician. It's a perk because it appeals to my sense of wanting to stay connected to the generation that comes behind me and will ultimately shape the world I will live in. There is a group called Fleet Foxes, which even if you haven't listened to much since 1980, like me, you will no doubt enjoy them. The lyrics to my favorite song, White Winter Hymnal, are a bit cryptic, but the music and harmonies are uplifting. Thanks to youtube you can access it and feel inspired. This song reminds me of the happy memories from the last summer of my son's time living here at home, when he and his girlfriend were fixtures in our lives and there was so much laughter. It makes me smile just remembering them. Here's to memories.

That's what it's all about

I have a bumper sticker in my office that says, 'What if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?" Like most kids, I played this game in the school yard and Mr. C's infamous gym class. It was considered a Simon Says style game, non-competitive in terms of athleticism and fun. I take issue with that last adjective. The hockey pokey isn't that much fun. Not nearly as much fun as "Mother May I," "Googly Eyes" or "Mother, mother may we cross the ocean." These were all games of my youth that I played with the sibs in our first house. Not sure if these were real games or something my older sister made up.

That toddling town

I read the lyrics of the Tony Bennett song before I wrote this, and I have to say, they're not the most inspired bit of writing I have read. But the tune is catchy.
   If you haven't been to Chicago, make it a point to go. I love that city. We didn't get a bad meal or meet an angry person the entire time we were there. A good friend of my family is originally from Chicago. Her family owned one of the city's largest department stores back in the 1940s. She was fond of referring to the Midwest as the place where civilized folk live. And I finally understand what she meant. My dad, being originally from Nebraska, had the same, respectful and kind demeanor as she did. And while my east coast cynicism used to be tweaked by it, I have to say I really miss it now that he is gone.
   It is heartwarming and refreshing to be steeped in a place where people meet your gaze when they walk by you on the street, wish you a good morning on the elevator and tell you to have a nice day just for spending time with them on a street corner. The last restaurant we ate at punctuated the experience for us. Every single server, including the manager and the bartender called out as we left, or passed by them, "Thanks so much for coming." I felt very welcomed.
   Makes me optimistic about civilization after all.

Chicago, Chicago

Who in the world would go to Chicago for a mini vacation in the dead of winter? People who live in a small city surrounded by snow and blustery wind who want to spend some time in a really big city surrounded by snow and blustery wind.
   The elements cease to matter when you are used to them. I guess that's why so many of us who are used to long, snowy, dreary winters have little compassion for those who have been hit hard this winter and can't seem to curb their over-the-top responses.
   When you live in a small city, sure there is a lot to do in comparison to those in rural areas and small towns. But it doesn't take long for those options to get fairly humdrum and boring. For instance, some friends of mine want to go out to dinner. It's always a challenge to come up with a great restaurant that we haven't been to 100 times already. Nothing really new comes our way other than new chain restaurants, which I avoid. I like to support the local business owners and restaurateurs.
   When it gets to be too much, a road trip to civilization, bright lights, big city is just the ticket. Chicago, here we come. I can't wait to eat my way through it.

Grace in confusion

Sometimes I get very frustrated when I feel as if nothing is happening. You know that limbo feeling when you feel you have done everything you can to create an end result and you don't see it. Well, it leaves me with a sense of confusion which often leads to frustration and then despair.
   I read something the other day that I have been pondering since I have recently found myself in a situation that has taxed my nervous system and left me feeling anxious and at a crossroads. Confusion can be a gift. I have been thinking about this ever since I read it. I had never viewed confusion as anything more than a punishment. The idea that it is a gift makes complete sense, since I do believe that there are opportunities and treasures to be found in everything we encounter in life. It comes down to opening the mind and soul and stepping outside of our perspective in order to see it and then embrace it.
   This small sentence, this sentiment and belief about confusion has lifted the timeline off my shoulders. As I was telling my husband over the weekend, I tend to be an end result person. It's not easy for me to experience and enjoy the process since I always feel like everything has to be done yesterday. As long as it's done. I habitually ignore how we got there. Which I think allows me to miss out on so much.
   So just for today, I am going to sit with my confusion, knowing that it allows me to stay here right now. At some point when I have all the information I need and the timing is right, I trust that I will know what to do. And I will have the courage and confidence to do it.
  

Weighing in on Bieber Fever

I have to get this off my chest. It's not that I am intolerant of teen heart throbs. While I was not a Davey Jones' fan back in the 1960s, I did have a crush on bandmate  and vocalist Micky Dolenz. But that's for another time.
   I initially learned of Justin Bieber from my husband's then 8-year old granddaughter. We went to visit over the holidays two years ago, and she was watching the high-pitched warbler on youtube. A pretty young thing with talent, I thought, with a whole lot of contrived thrown in. Little did I know, this cute kid would turn out to be a multimillion dollar property by the time he turned 16.
   Last I checked in with my husband's granddaughter, now at the wizened age of 10, she had dumped her crush on the kid. Apparently, her mother was none to found of his less-than-pure actions when it came to girls.
   Now that he has made a movie and put his entire life out there for the public to see, I have to weigh in. Is it just me, or does anyone else have a problem with a teenager claiming to have a life story? I have things in my fridge that are older than him.
   As for never say never, I am curious if he will be embracing that motto after the entertainment world turns its back on him as he slides out of puberty to not so cute adulthood. Will he be so convicted in his beliefs when life kicks the snot out of him? Working hard at making your dream come true has credibility when the person claiming it has some wrinkles. Let's face it. The music business is a fickle and not-so-kind mistress. I caution young Justin, if you think you won't find yourself disheartened and out of work, well, never say never.

Breaking down the wall

The sun came out and all is right in this snowy end of the world. Now it's time to chip away at the wall some more. Writers have various names for writer's block. I call it the wall because that's how it feels and looks to me when I am right upon it. Hitting the wall for runners and cyclists has a bit of different meaning. I did a story on long distance runners for a national magazine a long time ago, specifically marathoners, and they loved to talk about hitting the wall when they were almost at the end of their races. Hitting the wall is apparently caused by the depletion of glycogen in the runner's body, and results in extreme fatigue and feeling absolutely spent.
    Hitting the wall for this writer has nothing to do with glycogen. It's not as if I am writing feverishly for hours and then all of a sudden, I can barely move my fingers. No, hitting the wall happens right out of the starting gate. It's facing the monumental, seemingly overwhelming task of having to write something and automatically giving up. I suspect that writers could do well to adopt some of the discipline of marathoners. At least then, we could get out of our own way.
   

Hitting the wall

I have been sitting at my desk all morning, working on miscellaneous, unrelated stuff that really isn't what I can remotely call work. But justification is the almighty qualifier. I figured I shouldn't really work because I was waiting for the tow truck to arrive and pull my car out of the slick of snow in which it was stuck. Waiting for his arrival needs my full attention. Shouldn't get too involved in any writing project, such as my column which is due today, with the possibility of the tow truck arriving at any moment. Seems plausible to me.
   Ahh, such is the mind of a procrastinator. I can justify twiddling away the hours in such a believable manner that most people would nod in unison, agreeing with me. But somewhere in the crowd there is at least one nonbeliever. Someone who sees right through me. Actually, forget the crowd. That nonbeliever is me.
   The tow truck driver has come and gone, the car is back in the garage. Nothing much more I can throw up in the way of excuses now, save I need to finish this blog entry. Time is still crawling by and the page in the split screen in front of me with my byline on it still has nothing written underneath it. As my father was fond of saying, "it's not going to write itself." No, I must do that.
   Wait. First, I better check on the kitchen. Make sure there aren't any dishes in the sink or bits of food scraps that need to be swept up. I can't write knowing my house is mess, after all.

Cairo Update

I finally heard back, via email, from my former student who lives in Cairo. I have asked her to keep me updated. This is part of her email to me:
      "The government asked all the citizens to stay at home from 5 pm till 7 am the following day, so we don't go to work or move except for emergencies and this is boring. There wasn't any Internet connection for the last 5 days so I checked my email just now. I got married in May 2010 but I live in the same apartment at the same building where my parents live, i didn't want to be away from them as they are old aged.We are praying now that things improve in Egypt."
       While "bored" isn't the optimum way to spend her day, I am just relieved she isn't in danger or scared to death. Having spent time in Cairo, which is a huge city, I am stunned by the images I see in the media. My family and I were there just a few years ago, walked the streets, traveled through all the familiar parts of the city, and broke bread with those who live there. It has made this more than just a news story for me.

Snow is one thing...

Ice is something completely different. Even the stalwart snow veterans among us know agree that driving on ice is not for the faint of heart. It matters not how well trained someone is in winter driving, once there is a layer of ice on the roads, none of it matters. Ice is fickle business, like an unstable mistress. You never really know how to approach it and just how it will react when you do. I hate driving on ice. I guess I really do need to have some control in my life.

Might as well stop fighting it

I used to believe that acceptance was a bad thing. Digging in my heels seemed the only way in my logical mind to force change. Over time, however, I have learned that this is illusory. Acceptance is a fairly misunderstood concept because it can imply weakness and who wants to be weak? The real truth is that acceptance is often the first step to understanding and with that, comes perspective. Acceptance requires one to put aside ego in order to see the truth. Being truculent and resistant has never resulted in true happiness or effective change for me. It makes me frustrated and angry, both signs of an overactive ego.
   I have a different experience with acceptance. In the simple act of accepting, all worry and anxiety--my two biggest foes--are put at bay. Then I can clearly see the situation for what it is thanks to this new perspective. And that often time leads to a place of understanding. The pond stills and solutions or courses of action float to the surface and emerge. I can see the larger picture.
   Acceptance is not a bad thing. It's the only way to clarity.