A Writing Posts with a Few Random Links (It's Scary in my Brain)

LibelSanRo via Pixabay

  I started writing this post yesterday -- one of my typical the-semester-is-over-and-now-I-can-write posts. I was struggling a bit with what I wanted to say, though, so I switched gears and wrote something else -- something that had a deadline -- and it wasn't until last night that I realized that I'd never finished this one, let alone posted it.

Yeah. That about sums it up.

The semester is over, and I want to do all the things, as my friend Sarah says. I want to write. I want to read. I want to sleep in. I want to wrap presents. I want to organize actual and virtual things. I want to watch random television and videos, like the YouTube video of David Schwimmer on The Great Stand Up to Cancer Bake Off I found completely by accident last night. 

I want to shrink my pile of magazines by actually reading them instead of just recycling them to get them out of my way. I want to finish the jigsaw puzzle that's been on the table in the sunroom for too many months. I want to spend time with the people I love but, truth be told, I also want to have stretches of time where I can revel in the peace and quiet that allows my creativity to flow. 

I suspect that somewhere, in the recesses of my brain, I actually believe I can do all these things -- maybe even in the same day (okay, maybe two days). My rational brain tells me this is ridiculous, but the pleasure circuits in my brain extend their little neurons and beg for massive doses of neurotransmitters (kinda like that plant in Little Shop of Horrors). 

And so I start things and finish a few. Others get abandoned or curtailed by some annoying necessity like making dinner. And writing, which is a bit amorphous at the moment because I'm between projects, gets set aside in favor of something else. 

The space between projects is an odd one. Sometimes, it's a barren landscape, which is terrifying. Will I ever have an idea again? If so, will it be different enough from what I've already written to stand on its own?

World-fly via Pixabay

Happily, I have a couple of ideas, along with finishing touches that need to be done on the novel I'm ready to submit to agents and the middle grade ebook that needs a cover. But the ideas right now are just that -- ideas -- and not even the Not Ready for Prime Time Players (to steal a phrase from SNL).

I'm not yet sure how I want the next paragraph to start so please excuse me while I move laundry from the washer to the dryer.

I'm back.

As the space between semesters collides with the space between projects, I'm slowly realizing that I need a transition period -- one that allows the productivity-seeking part of my brain an opportunity to shift gears. This is a tad challenging during a season that comes with more than its own fair share of lists, but allowing my writing to emerge instead of scribbling it down as one other item on a to-do list might be a great way to afford myself that luxury.

So, what will my writing look like? Most likely, it'll be a bit like the recipes I'm dusting off for the holidays. A cup of reading, which immerses me in someone else's words and often leads me down the what-if road so essential to fiction and idea generation. A cup or so of journaling, where the ideas can run free, rather than being confined to a particular topic. A pinch of writing prompts and sprinkle of writing exercises to add some structure, but not the strictness of paragraphs and chapters. 

And finally, perhaps most important, time spent among characters -- the real ones that surround me and the fictional ones taking shape in my mind and, eventually, on the page. They are, after all, at the heart of whatever this is I'm trying to do.  

Beauty and the Books

 

Last weekend, we visited my daughter and helped her relocate an entertainment center from the home of a co-worker into her living room. We outsourced the actual moving part, which meant our job responsibilities were primarily set-up and organization of the new piece of furniture upon its arrival.

As part of the organization, I got to place her books, a job I love doing. When we were finished, the shelves looked lovely (if I do say so myself), with an underlying organizational system that will allow her to quickly put her hands on whatever book she's looking for.

Organizing and books. Very few pairings that make my heart sing quite so vociferously. 

Over the weekend, I finally made time to tackle the bookshelf in our mudroom. I've been clipping pictures of pretty book cases featuring tidy shelves with an artistic co-mingling of books and decorative items, and I wondered if I could pare back my collection (or re-configure it, at least) to accomplish some version of the same thing.

Meanwhile, in preparation for this task, I've been working on taming my book-buying habit by getting ebooks whenever possible (cheaper, no shelf space needed) and borrowing single-read books, like novels, from the library. I've gotten a bit more ruthless about donating books that I might read, keeping only the ones that truly interest me. Since I donate to the library, I figure that chances are good that I'll be able to check out my own copy of the book should I someday regret giving it away.

When I was finished, I had a small pile of books to give away and a few little niches where I could display a favorite photo or memento. In addition, I'd pressed a small, decorative suitcase into service, storing one category of books inside it (and, to be honest, a handful of books behind it) to make the bottom shelf look a little fancier. I relocated a file bin, freeing up some bonus space and improving the overall look even more. My shelves didn't look like the ones in the magazines, but they looked a lot better than they had at the outset.

As I agonized over which books to keep and which to get rid of, I realized that some of the books had been taking up space for a long time, and yet I hadn't cracked them open. My new spend-less-money-on-books (among other things) campaign was working, but library books have a due date; books I own do not. 

So, I set a new goal for myself, one that would balance what I own with what I borrow. Each day, I'll spend ten minutes on a book I already own. A few of these sessions will be sufficient to let me know which books are keepers, and which are just taking up space, waiting to go in the donation bin. 

That night, I spent close to an hour on one of the non-fiction books I'd "discovered," reading chapters out of order based on what looked interesting. I might (or might not) finish the book and I might or might not keep it, but the reading was pleasurable. 

The next night, I read only material I needed for work. Oops.

But, since every new day presents a new opportunity (and I was at least 50 minutes ahead anyway), each day, I can pick up where I left off, or pick up a new book. The end goal is to keep my shelves filled with only books I love, minimizing clutter and making space for my new must-haves in the process.

Meanwhile, I love the new look of my shelves, and I have a new stack of donations for the library.

Win-win.

AI-generated books via Pixabay.com

Transition

 Yesterday was the last day of classes for fall semester. This semester, that means that today is a wonderful invention called "Reading Day," a day when instructors ostensibly read and grade work and students allegedly study for final exams. I say "this semester" because Reading Day isn't always a given and, when we get such a day, I'm immensely grateful.

It feels strange not to have any classes to prep for or teach, an occurrence to which my mind has not yet adjusted. I know this because it's still whirring away, generating a constant school-related buzz. I was awake in the wee hours of the morning, for example, worrying about students who are in danger of failing, somehow managing to shoulder a blame that isn't mine to own. While it was easy to differentiate their responsibilities from my own in the light of day (and upon further examination of my grade book), logic worked less well at 4AM, as is often the case.

Today, I am intentionally seeking balance -- a little bit of school work (final projects to grade), a little bit of around-the-house stuff, and a little bit of Christmas. Gradually, the school work will recede and my time will be my own again for the most part, until classes begin again in January. 

Meanwhile, my goals are reasonable, beginning with the hope of a better night's sleep tonight, now that I have done all that I can do.

Friday Feature: What I'm Reading

 I've been pondering Friday Features for a couple weeks now, and I'm finally sitting down to write one. It's no coincidence that I'm doing this on the last Friday of classes, when the semester is winding down, and the first Friday in December, when my reading for the month (and the year) is ramping up. 

This week's set of books is a pretty accurate reflection of who I am and what I read (and, yes, I read them all concurrently). Anchoring the pile is The Twentysomething Treatment, a book I didn't put on my Christmas list because I didn't want to wait until after Christmas to start reading it. As the parent of a twenty-something, and an instructor to young adults on the cusp of that decade, I was excited to read therapist Meg Jay's take on why this decade is so hard (too much uncertainty for a still-developing brain to navigate) and what to do about it (spoiler alert: medication is not always the answer). I'm just a few chapters in and I'm looking forward to digging into it when I finish my grades for the semester.

Atop that non-fiction choice are two others: a beautifully illustrated book of London landmarks (London: A Guide for Curious Wanderers by Jack Chesher) and a book of interviews of the cast, creators, and personnel responsible for a show I watch regularly in syndication (The Big Bang Theory: The Definitive, Inside Story of the Epic Hit Series by Jessica Radloff). I'm only a few chapters into the latter but, as a writer, I'm lapping up the character development that took the series from a failed pilot to a beloved series. And, as a regular viewer of that series, I find it fun to read about the behind-the-scenes happenings directly from the people involved with creating the show each week. And London? We're saving up for a trip, and I hoped this book would give me ideas for fun things to add to the itinerary as well as motivating me to put a little less cash into short-range purchases and a little more toward long-range plans. 

The slim paperback at the top of the pile? A script for The Savannah Sipping Society (Jones Hope Wooten), a play that's part of the current season at my local community theatre. It's been too long since I've done a show so, when one comes along with characters (roughly) my age, it's worth a read. 

The only thing missing from the pile is a novel with a feisty female protagonist because I haven't found one that keeps me invested in said feisty female. But I'm optimistic that there's one on my Kindle, just waiting for me to dig in, once I finish with the semester. 

Until then, I'm happy with the pile below, and all the friends that keep it company.

Lights! Decorations! Christmas!

 How soon is too soon for Christmas music? I typically have a visceral (usually negative) response when I first stumble across an all-Christmas-all-the-time station in November. But really, it depends on the day, the song, and my mood. Ella Fitzgerald singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"? Any day of the year.

In my house, I'm a late adopter, refusing to dig into the Christmas decorating until after Thanksgiving. This year, I won the battle, but it doesn't always work out that way.

It's not even Thanksgiving (2019), yet the halls (or some of them, anyway) are already decked in our house. Don't blame me. If it were up to me, the decorations would still be in the crawlspace.

My husband has always been an early adopter when it comes to Christmas decorations. When he wanted to put up the outdoor lights last weekend, I thought it was a bit early but, as he pointed out, Thanksgiving is late this year and it makes sense to put them up before it gets too cold.
Okay. I'm not the one who puts them up and, if he's outside happily working I can be inside happily writing, so it's a win-win. The outdoor lights are pretty and understated (as my mom would say), so having them up now is kind of nice.

But then, Monday night, he took out the Christmas Village houses -- the ones that are laid out under the windows in the dining room and in the bay window of the mudroom.

Suddenly, I felt as though we needed a little less Christmas. I'm no Scrooge, but I'm not ready for a full-on assault of Christmas decorations before the Thanksgiving turkey has found its way into the oven.

So, last night, when he came back into the family room with a string of blue lights in his hand, I said, "You're not putting those back here."

"Why not?" (feigned ignorance)

I had no valid verbal reply, but apparently my face spoke plenty loudly because he took the blue lights (yuck, by the way) into the mudroom and added to the light show there. Even I had to admit they looked nice out there, where there were already decorations.

I feel obligated to say (once again) that I'm not a Scrooge (Ebenezer, McDuck or otherwise). The trouble is that he's an early adopter whereas I like to keep the decorations up until mid-January. I have a dearth of Christmas spirit in mid-November but, in mid-January, when the days grow colder and grayer, I love the warm glow of the lights that keep Christmas around just a little bit longer.

This weekend, after the turkey has been digested (and perhaps the leftovers as well), I'll be ready to reach into the crawlspace and pull out some of the decorations. But, until then, I'd like to slow things down and savor some stuffing before it's time to stuff the stockings.

So, if you've got early-adopter Christmas spirit to spare, please keep it to yourself. I'm hitting the snooze button on Christmas until I celebrate Thanksgiving.

But you can bet you'll find my Christmas cheer up after New Year's.

nnguyen21 via Pixabay

Thanksgiving Eve in Starbucks Cafe

 When COVID hit, my habit of grabbing my laptop and running to Starbucks to work on writing projects fell apart. Post-COVID, I continued to avoid public places to a large degree, feeling as though my work at a college gave me plenty of potential exposure to all sorts of things.

Chai addict that I am, I continued to patronize my local Starbucks via the drive through, even coming to enjoy the days when the line was long because it gave me time to listen to an audiobook or maybe even squeeze in a quick French lesson on Duolingo. A lovely side benefit of these trips was connecting with the baristas, who came to know me first by my drink, then by my name, and I learned to put their names to the voices emanating from the speaker as well.

I stuck to the drive-through for a good long time, getting a quick jolt of socializing with the baristas before heading home to my bright, unpopulated sunroom. I wasn't avoiding the café as much as choosing to go home, get comfortable and work in the quiet.

Today, my house was busy. My daughter was working from home (from the sunroom) and my husband was working through a self-imposed list of chores. Though I hadn't intended to do work, per se, I felt a need to carve out a space away from what felt like chaos on a day where I'd been hoping for tranquility. As I got ready to make my Starbucks run, I decided it was the perfect time not to run at all, but to instead pack up my laptop and claim a table in the café.

In the end, my daughter opted to join me, and we spent more time coming up with Christmas gift ideas than actually working, but that was just fine. I chatted in person with the baristas I usually see just through a window, and tried one of the new Christmas drinks (I'll stick with my chai, thanks). But, most of all, I hung out with one of my favorite people in one of my favorite places without worrying about what I should be doing instead.

It was a pretty nice way to spend a chunk of Thanksgiving Eve, leaving me considering (once again) how the little things are often quite big things after all.

Fabulous Fall

 I love fall, although my allergies don't share my sentiment. The colors, the crispness, the clothes. Sweaters, sweatshirts, well-worn jeans, and soft leggings -- the stuff of comfort and coziness, contrasting with the crispness and bite of the air outside. Fall has been playing hide-and-seek with us this month, but the small taste we've gotten leaves me hungry for more. My chair in our sunroom gives me a front-row seat to the best and worst of each season, but the changing colors of autumn bring a variety to each day rivaled only by the bursting buds of spring.

When we were out to visit my daughter last month, she pointed to a tree and said, "That's my favorite red." I remember her doing this once before when she was in college, and I find it fascinating that her favorite color is one found only in nature, in a particular season. No crayon, paint color, or article of clothing quite makes the cut in the same way. 

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I'm hoping fall decides to join us on a more long-term basis. Meanwhile, I'm going to make it a point to look up and enjoy the colors of the leaves on the bounty of trees that flank the road I drive to work. They are, indeed, breathtaking, and I want to be careful not to miss the opportunity to soak in their beauty before those same branches are bare and/or covered in snow. 

What says fall to you?