Puget Sound
The view of Puget Sound from Edmonds, Washington.
There is no great writing, only great rewriting
I usually beat myself up during the writing process. If every word isn’t perfect as it appears from my fingertips, I get frustrated and want to give up.
I don’t know how many times I heard the above quote at the Write on the Sound writers’ conference last weekend, but it was definitely something I needed to hear. I write, and I write, and then I sit and don’t write because I think I can’t write. What I don’t do is re-write.
I suspect I’m not the only writer that combines this odd mix of arrogance and self-flagellation by thinking my first draft should be good enough, and beating myself up when it’s not. Is there a self help group? A pill? Perhaps I should paint in big bold red letters above my desk: “IT’S JUST A DRAFT!”
I did get more out of the writer’s conference. It was my first one and I’m hooked. I got home and immediately went online to see if there were any more conferences coming up in the area.
And now I’m going to go ahead and hit publish on the first draft of this post. Really, I did learn that lesson. I also know that sometimes you’ve gotta just do it or it will never get done. It’s been a week since I posted anything in here, although I’m sitting on several posts that I’ve been re-writing. Life is a balance folks.
What writing issues are you working on?
Evening Sky
Change
It’s more than just the weather, although I can feel that in my bones as well these days. Change is in the air.
What I’m Reading
Here is what I’ve been reading this week.
Made Me Laugh
The World According to Americans
This map of the world is too funny (and a little too true).
Plants vs. Zombies
OK, I’ll admit I started reading Jorge Garcia’s blog because I’m a fan of LOST, and I just want to hug Hurley. But I love the blog too. It’s just a blogger.com blog. No fancy layout or assistant writing his posts for him. He writes about anything and everything, from having trouble getting his tomatoes to grow, to losing a shoe on a press junket and finding it later in a bag where he had stuffed everything in a quick-someone’s-coming-over-hide-the-mess move, to destroying my brain by introducing me to zombie games.
Made Me Think
Can You Save Money Renting Text Books?
I have not tried renting text books yet, but with the amount of money we spend on textbooks every quarter, it’s definitely worth looking into other options. It’s too late for this semester, but I’ll be investigating these sites further in anticipation of next semester.
The Healthy Americans Act
If the conservatives would discuss this bipartisan proposal I found on Republican Bob Bennett’s site, rather than sticking to their current tactics of trying to distort and prevent communication, we might have a real national conversation about health care. I wonder why conservatives are keeping this proposal under wraps.
Warm Fuzzy
Ode to Shel Silverstein
Thoughts on returning to school, with one of my favorite Silverstein poems.
Badolato Hosts Tarantella Power 2009
A culture festival in a small village in Italy. An encounter with an artist.
Breaking the Seal
Sometimes you’re just that tired. This one nearly made me cry.
What were your favorite posts this week?
My 20 Year High School Reunion
My 20 Year High School reunion is taking place in Palmer, Alaska this weekend, but I won’t be there. I was planning to go, in fact I was looking forward to this reunion. I wanted to show off my daughter, and introduce my husband to the people who were such an important part of my past.
It didn’t work out. Why doesn’t matter, although money was no small part of the consideration.
I find it interesting how my feelings in anticipation of this event changed over the past few years. Several years ago, when looking forward to the reunion it was all about comparison. I was anxious about seeing my classmates. I was lucky in love, but the tides had turned financially and I was no longer bringing in the big bucks. How would I stack up against my classmates and their achievements? I didn’t have a beautiful house, or a cabin on the lake, or money – or time – for vacations. How would I fare in the competition of “Who’s got the best life?”
Then MySpace happened, which was quickly followed by the even better Facebook. My classmates joined up one after another, hunting down other classmates and cajoling them to sign on as well. A circle of friends grew. We were interacting with each other in a way we never had before. Looks didn’t matter. Those extra 40 pounds were irrelevant. As we shared baby pictures and survey results, built farms together and challenged each other to scrabble games and mafia wars, friendships reconnected and new ones grew irrespective of the cliques that existed during our high school days.
At our ten year reunion we showed up, showed off, exchanged email addresses, and promptly got back to our lives once the reunion was over. Few of us stayed in touch. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time and I’m glad I went. But I suspect this reunion will be different.
This time we reconnected before the reunion. Over the past couple of years we’ve shared each other’s trials and triumphs. We’ve cared about each other in specific ways: hoping a job interview goes well, a healthy baby (or grandbaby), a big cross country move, and a cancer diagnosis. We stopped being a generalized and generic collective and, by interacting with each other through Facebook, became a collection of individuals. Competition matters less (unless you’re playing Scrabble against Liz), those 40 extra pounds matter less, the paycheck matters less, the living arrangements matter less.
What really matters is who you are when you sit down and start typing. Are you real? Do you give a shit? And, remember when…
So I’ll be thinking of you this weekend Palmer High School Class of ’89. And when you get back home, I’ll still be on Facebook, awaiting your updates, and photos, and maybe a cherry tree for my farm.
Cheers!
On a side note: What do you do with a 20+ year old woolen letter jacket? I know the streets are crowded with people who will desperately need a coat this winter, but this coat is so tied up in my identity (not to mention that my name is embroidered all over it), it doesn’t feel right to hand it over to just anyone. It still fits. Maybe I’ll wear it this winter and see if it makes me feel younger.
One year ago: The Hammock
