Blogger's Block

I haven't been posting lately--I barely managed 47 words for Anne Boleyn and that was 19 days ago. 

I decided I must have blogger's block. I've never heard the term, but I was sure someone else had coined it. A quick search found this article.

That got me thinking about regular writer's block. I'm suffering from that too. 

I'm retired--I have the time to write. I have ideas. So, what's the matter with me? An obvious response is that I'm not writing because I'm not taking a spring writing course. 

I've been taking writing classes given by the Norwalk Library since the fall of 2018. The spring session is a ten-week course. Presumably, I would have written ten stories in the class. But one reason I didn't take the class was I wanted to write something other than short stories responding to prompts. 

Unfortunately, I haven't written much of anything--only a little journaling.

It's not enough. Not for someone who claims she is a writer. Not writing makes me doubt myself. I can come up with excuses such as I'm busy with other things, I run out of time by the end of the day, etc.  But, they're only excuses and not legitimate reasons. 

I've found myself letting other things slide too--like housework. 

I decided I had to start somewhere. First, I did some easy things I'd been meaning to do. I ordered some summer clothes, wrote a recommendation for a dog walker/sitter, and wrote a sympathy note.  I worked on this blogpost (I had started it about a week ago.) Today, I sat down to write and finished it. 

Small steps.

Almost Here

Spring that is. We've had three days this week with temperatures in the 60's. It felt glorious. I know it won't last, but I don't mind as long as the snow is gone. 

I always look forward to spring; February is usually a tough month. In this pandemic year, I am yearning for it. I am looking forward to more, longer walks with Lola, including neighborhood walks that she has recently spurned. 

Yesterday we met some friends at Taylor Farm dog park. It wasn't a DPF, of course, but it was nice. As Jen said, we hope more people return this season--we only had five regulars last year--although we enjoyed those small get-togethers. 

I also hope spring brings some kind of creative renewal to me. I wrote an essay this week, unrelated to my class. It's silly, but it's writing, and I'm happy I did it. (See my next post.)

Creative Pursuit

In a recent post, I mentioned my need to create. On Saturday night, I put a plastic tablecloth on the dining room table, got out my gelli plate printing materials, and Nancy Drew's The Bungalow Mystery a book that I plan to alter. 

I forgot some of the finer points of gelli plate printing and didn't print any decent images. Mostly I made a mess. I looked through my folder of Nancy Drew images and worked a little in The Bungalow Mystery. Unfortunately, I didn't have a clear idea of what I wanted to do, so I didn't do very much. 

Today I read an article; its first line was "Writers write." The gist of the article is to dedicate one hour each day to your craft. 

Writing is my main craft, but there's no reason I can spend time on other art projects. 

Catching Up

I didn't expect to wait nine days since my last post. I had actually started another post immediately after the I published the last. 

Why haven't I been posting? It's partially a case of avoidance, partially a case of being preoccupied with Jeff's recovery plus my own health. We had neglected getting regular checkups and are working with some new doctors, researching insurance coverage, etc. 

I've had some writing block issues. I had two weeks for my latest class assignment. The theme was paths crossed using two characters from our previous two assignments. I wasn't crazy about my characters (one was based on me) they just weren't all that interesting. Writing the new story was a slog. 

I also need to talk about the mundane: habit. I got out of the habit of posting. Previously, I've compared blogging to working out at the gym. It can be hard to get started, and sometimes the process is frustrating, but it feels so good when it's over. There's a sense of accomplishment. 

I mentioned a snow hangover in an earlier post. We didn't get rid of that snow before we got another six inches (or thereabouts) last Thursday and Friday. It was flurrying when I got up on Saturday--I felt as if the meteorologists had betrayed me. They told me the snow had finally ended on Friday. On Monday we got additional snow/sleet/rain. It didn't amount to much in terms of measurement, but it was demoralizing. The older I get, the more I hate snow and its aftermath of slippery surfaces and slush. There were days when even Lola didn't want to go out. 

I'm stressed: a perfect storm of concern about Jeff, added responsibilities while Jeff is recovering, depressing winter weather, illness (I had a bad cold last week--the worst in years) plus Covid isolation and the usual day-to-day to-dos.

I know what I need to do. I've got to get better organized about my to-dos, so they don't overwhelm me. When I stop to think about it, I really don't have things that bad. I'm actually pretty privileged. 

I need to talk to friends more often. I may not be able to see people in person safely, but we can talk. 

Finally I need to create. I need to write more for my class and otherwise. I need to work on collages and art journals. I took a gelli plate workshop last month but haven't done anything since then. It's true that the layout of our condo is not conducive to making art, but I just have to make due. 

Student Art Show

Because I took two Mixed Media and Collage classes at Rowayton Arts Center, I was eligible to enter two pieces in the Instructors and Students Art Show. I was hesitant: as I really an artist?

The link above has the whole show. Part of the show is only virtual. Here are my collages. 

I won't exactly set the art world on fire. At least I can honestly say I had works in an art show. 

2020 Goals Review--Part One

I'll start with some successes.

I stopped drinking for about six weeks. Some variation of this has been an annual goal for over 20 years. I only remember failing once. I was at a work dinner; a co-worker ordered a bottle of white wine and no one else was drinking it, so I had a glass. A dumb reason to miss a goal. I was proud that I kept my goal the year I broke my ankle--that would have been a good excuse to drink. 

Blogging: I selected 200 posts as a reasonable goal. I didn't want to write posts just for the sake of writing posts when I struggled for something to say. I wrote 207 posts in 2020.

Exercise goals: I wanted to go to the gym 150 times and exercise at least one half hour every day. I had been on a roll--going to the gym often since sometime last fall. This year I only went to the gym 39 times. I last went to the gym on March 16th before the state closed the gyms that night. In Connecticut, the gyms reopened in July, but I haven't returned. I had hoped to resume visits in September, but I still don't feel comfortable working out in the gym. 

I've been walking Lola every day, and I try to do some other exercise. I miss going to the gym, but the risks aren't worth it. 

Reading: My goal was to read 25 books. I read 23, including most of the books in the house. I read a few poetry chapbooks and part of Leaves of Grass that aren't included in the 23. This was a doable goal; I'm disappointed I didn't met it. 

The Extra Leaves in the Table

Last year, I read and blogged about Stephen King's book On Writing. I quoted the following:

"For me good description usually consists of a few well-chosen details that will stand for everything else."

Yesterday, I participated in a Memoir Workshop given by the Bridgeport History Center at the Bridgeport Library. We looked at this Norman Rockwell painting Freedom From Want as our prompt. As usual, I'm alone in my dislike of Rockwell, though this painting didn't annoy me as much as others do. 

I wrote a fictional piece based on the painting, but ended with a few paragraphs that were based on my life. In the fictional part, I wrote about Grampa putting extra leaves in the table. That was the detail that resonated with people in this class. I didn't think it was important; I just wanted to give Grandpa something to do. You never know.

I often focus on details in others' writings: Scott's grandmother's never used door that rattled and John's grandmother in her wheelchair mixing sugar cookies. I also remember how a teacher focused on spilled lime juice on the counter in a story I wrote that the class trashed.

Details are crucial to a story. So are realistic breaks in dialogues. I often wrote about smoking just to give my characters something to do. In my latest story, it was drinking coffee and wine. I need more work.

Art Work

I had a good mixed media and collage class today. Before class, I reviewed what's in my bag. I have more clippings, postcards, etc. than I can comfortably carry, so I selected files of images to work with today. I remember our instructor Mari talking about wax, so I threw some colorful candles into my bag. I was in the kitchen a few minutes later and grabbed some aluminum foil.

I guess I can say I painted my first two abstract paintings today. First I played with gesso, wax, acrylic paint, and imitation gold foil. I used a paintbrush with the gesso, then later used toothpicks, Q-tips, and the outer edge of the Jerry's Artarama frequent buyer card with acrylic paint. I added some images to one painting. On a fourth page, I used the aluminum foil to make a mirror. I framed it with an arch from a theater and a string of Egyptian hieroglyphics. I glued an image of Nefertiti to the "mirror" and used a pastel pencil to fill in the background. I'll add something else to it, but ran out of time.

We don't have class next week. I'll try to do some work on my own. 

Another Week

Last week we didn't have writing class. I took my time on my assignment due yesterday, finished my first draft of my essay on Thursday and left it for awhile. I revisited it Sunday.

We tried a new technique in collage class which was fun. We used spray glue and pressed some kind of glitter paper on our work, and then quickly pulled it off. It left splotches of glitter on the page. It looked good but too much glitter landed on my text. I want to try it again.

I went to Jerry's Artarama's Sunday, but the person working didn't know about the paper. I got spray glue, mixed media paper, and a mixed media notebook. It's a fun store, but Jeff and Lola were waiting in the car for me, so I didn't linger.

I participated in a Zoom memoir writing workshop on Saturday. I didn't like that the session started 10 minutes after the start time. I think things should start as scheduled, and latecomers should deal with that. I didn't like the prompt. We had a half hour to write, and I wrote something rambling. The instructor was positive in his comments, but I felt that I missed the mark. 

We've been in a warm spell and we're taking advantage of it: taking Lola for long walks and sitting outside for drinks and dinner. Tonight we went to Sedona Tap House for charity steak night; it will probably be our last time this year. We also only have two potential DPF's left before Daylight Saving Time ends. Last Friday, it rained most of the day. 

On Monday I started another week with my writing class. My last collage day of this session was today. I'm getting my hair done on Wednesday. Thursday I'm starting a zoom CrimeCONN Express 2020. I'm most excited about my visit to the Whitney Museum to see the Mexican Muralists exhibit. I had planned to make a day of it in the spring when it warmed up. Well, that didn't happen because of Covid-19. The Museum re-opened, and I figured I better go before it gets cold again. 

I'm still struggling with getting all my exercise and cleaning in. There's no good reason for it. It must just be my lack of prioritizing. Time to try again.

Self Image

I'm not sure why I haven't written since Monday. I had an idea to write about laundry woes, but the subject was too trivial--instead I journaled about it. I have a corona journal in which I write about every day issues and gripe a lot. 

I wasn't pleased with my last writing assignment for my class. I tried for whimsical and failed. My work for this week's assignment was much better and was well-received. 

The instructor for my collage and multi-media class said I had really advanced in just a few weeks. I was dumbfounded and pleased. She is very encouraging, but I thought it was just because I was the least trained in the class. Then she asked me and another student if we had Instagram accounts. It never occurred to me to have an Instagram account.

This got me thinking: am I an artist? I've never really thought of myself that way. It took me a long time to think of myself as a writer and as a writer, an artist. Can I be a legit artist? That seems beyond me. 

Thursday Thoughts

My writing class was suspended this week. We are on the Norwalk Public Library calendar even though we are meeting on Zoom. It's just as well because I didn't write much last week. I wasn't happy with my story last week. I tried for whimsical and failed. Our next assignment due next Monday is based on this photo.

I rejected my first idea and played around with a second. I think I wrote a few paragraphs on Wednesday, then finished a first draft on Monday. I like this story much better than last week's.

I'm halfway done with my collage/mixed media class. I'm really enjoying it. As I said before, I'm the least trained and experienced artist in the class, but I am learning new techniques, getting new ideas, and having fun. I used acrylic paint for the first time; it's nothing earth-shaking, but it is new for me.

I like (most of) the pieces I've worked on, and the instructor is encouraging and praising me. This week I painted an old cigar box I've had for years with cerulean blue--I need to paint one more side and the bottom to complete the paint job.  I'll look through clippings, photos, etc. to try to figure out my next steps.

Last night was the last session of the suffrage series. Overall, I'm disappointed. The first session was excellent. In the second, the speaker (same as the first) wasn't as focused. The third sessions featured two guest speakers who personally knew suffragist Alice Paul (who had been a Ridgefield resident at one time.) Both were interesting, The first had limited knowledge of Alice--she had met her as a 16-year old. The second speaker had more information but kept repeating the same things over and over. The last session was a discussion. It was supposed to be about the movie, Iron Jawed Angels, but that is currently only available on HBO Max. Instead the discussion was about various prejudices some of the participants faced as women. Again, it was interesting, but unfocused. Still worthwhile. 

Personal Archaeology

I believe that Julia Cameron used the term archaeology in The Artist's Way about finding things in your past that hampered your creativity. I also remember the concept of mining your journals. A few weeks ago, I wrote that I found a box of things to go to Goodwill. I also found a small duffel bag of notebooks. I had previously found a matching bag (both giveaways from an Arizona Diamondbacks/Atlanta Braves game that Jeff and I attended back in 1998) with stories and pieces of novels that I had written. I had skimmed through those notebooks, tossed a few, but kept those with things that I thought I could use. 

In the latest bag, I found some journals of morning pages, as well as notebooks from various retreats and courses. I found some old poems that I typed up (including Ode to a Nike Commercial or Why I Love Tom Glavine.) I also found some phrases in exercises that I used to write poems. One was: the arm around my waist became a chain.

I've gone through over half of the notebooks. Some, I tossed outright. Some, I threw away pages and now have smaller notebooks. I'll type up some poems or use found phrases to generate new poems.

A few things are consistent in my pages. There is never enough time. Which means I have to find, make the time. I also need other writers around me--retreats have inspired and supported me. I guess my class gives me some support. I need to find more.

New Fall Classes

Yesterday I started another fiction writing class offered by the Norwalk Library--the third consecutive class via Zoom. 

Our teacher Kim Kovach talked about a French literary techinique called Oulipo, using constraints or structures to create works. This class is larger than the last class, so Kim has extended the class time from 1.5 to 2 hours so we can all read. 

We did an in-class exercise using dialogue only to write a one-page story. The set-up is: the doorbell rings; a character answers the door and says, "Oh, it's you again."

Homework for next week: write a two-page story about a character who finds a note on his/her car windshield. I'm finding it challenging to get an idea. Wow, I just got one and wrote a few lines.

Today I started a class at Rowayton Arts Center: Mixed Media and Collage. It's one of two in-person classes this fall, limited to six students (we have five.) The other four students have more art experience than I have, but I'm not intimidated by that. They are open and friendly, and the class was a lot of fun. Our instructor Mari Gyorgyey encouraged us to bring in older artworks which we can re-purpose. I'm excited to try some new techniques. 

September is Here

Besides the calendar, I can tell  it's September by seeing pumpkin flavored latte commercials. I've also started seeing Halloween candy, etc. in the stores last week. 

I love September. It's a new beginning of the school year, the start of autumn, Jeff's and my anniversary, and Jeff's birthday, among other family celebrations. September is especially welcome after two months of hot and humid weather, although we're not done with that quite yet. 

In a moment of hyperbolic melodrama, I could say that Covid-19 has stolen my spring and summer. It's true that I've missed out on many things, but they pale compared to what others have suffered. That's why I bitch about what I missed in my private journal. Technically, we still have three weeks in summer, though I don't think that I can make up for summer things missed in that time. 

Let's look to the future. In two weeks I'm starting another writing class with the instructor I've been working with for two years. I'm also starting an in-person collage and mixed media workshop, socially distant of course. I've also signed up for an online seminar about women's suffrage. I'm psyched for all of these things. 

Jeff and I are deciding how to celebrate our anniversary. We're not ready to go away anywhere, though we've been invited to visit Melissa and Karl in North Carolina. We're afraid of what would happen when we come home. We thought about going to Interlaken Inn, but we're not happy with their lack of packages and dining options. So. we'll stay close at home, as we've been doing since the beginning of the year. 

September is here, and we'll make sure we enjoy it. 

Along the NRVT

Here are some photos I've taken along the NRVT this week.

November Miscellany

I went to the gym today, which makes me one for one for November, yay me. My goal was 150 visits for the year--the same goal I didn't meet for 2017. At least I beat several previous years' totals.

Today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and National Blog Posting  Month (NaBloPoMo.) In the former participants write a 50,000 word novel in November. In the latter, participants write a blog post every day in November. I've enjoyed writing for my art inspired writing course, but it's unrealistic for me do Nano this year. I wonder if I'm just making excuses, but I have to be realistic. I'll commit to NaBloPoMo.

Last week I finished a minor kitchen project. "Lola" gave us four beagle wine glasses and two beagle themed mugs for our 30th anniversary. Jeff gave me another mug. Jeff wants to keep everything, but we just don't have room. Maybe I'm in the de-cluttering mode because I've doing so much work at my mother's place.

My mother spent a few days in Norwalk Hospital this week. She fell and had hip pain so was sent to the ER. She developed pneumonia, but is back home now.

I recently had another frustration dream. I couldn't get my phone to work again. Funny how I had the dream after a relatively good day. But there's always something.

Thoughts on Thoreau

I thought my reading had slowed before. I'm practically at a standstill now.

I finished Walden a while ago (vague I know) and am about a fifth through Backwoods and along the Seashore.

From Walden, I loved Thoreau's discussion of the morning. He said all memorable events transpire in morning time and atmosphere. Poetry and art date from that hour. But then Thoreau says it doesn't matter what the clocks say. "Morning is when I'm awake and there is a dawn in me."

I'm more of morning person than a night owl. I've love to tap more into Thoreau's morning magic.

Word Choice and the Writer

Yesterday I wrote in my journal that I was riddled with mosquito bites. I wondered if that was the right word. Usually when you hear the word riddled, the context is a body riddled with bullets or cancer. In contrast, a person is covered in mosquito bites.

I wondered if pondering correct word usage made me a writer. I decided no, that made me an editor.

Silencing the editor (or the censor) is a big part of writing. Editing is crucial but it has to be at the right time--the right time is NOT during the first draft. The first draft is about getting the words down, getting into the flow. You can--and should--always go back to fix things later.

Then I started thinking about blogging and writing. I loved this line from the movie, Contagion. I remembered conversations and this post.  I have questioned whether I am "really" a writer many times. I remember how psyched I was when my friend Annette said she always refers to me as a writer regardless of how I'm making a living.

I write. OK, so I'm a writer. Maybe not your kind of writer, but I'm my kind of sporadic, half-assed writer.

By the way, "riddled" is pierced with many holes. So riddled works with mosquito bites.

Mercy Center

I arrived at Mercy Center around 4:15 today. My room is quite nice, with a private bath and a private porch and a water view from the porch. Darlene is next door. We have the only two rooms on this corridor. We are next to a kitchenette area with sink, tea supplies and a small refrigerator. We are close to one of the meeting rooms but no one's been using it today.

It feels very odd to be here: familiar touches but also many changes. I guess I've been here about ten times before. Today's my first visit since the renovation. There's much less room for large groups of overnight guests. The dining room crowd was rather small.

It is eerily quiet. Some people are here on a silent retreat. But I doubt it ever gets really rowdy here. It's 10:20, so not exactly early.

This is the only writing I've done since I got here. Hope to jump start something.

What's My Normal?

Yesterday I wrote about Spike returning to his normal life and my mother returning to hers. I started thinking about my life and what's normal for me.

First thing, the holidays are over; it's time to get back to work, get down to business, (insert your favorite cliché here.) Many still have holiday decorations up. At least we've taken ours down, though we still need to put them away in the bin.

With Spike's recovery, another aspect of my life's returning to normal. Worrying about Spike disrupted my sleep and my routine. I was so scared that I didn't want to leave him alone. I was haunted by the fear that he would die all alone. But I couldn't continue to live like that--I have responsibilities. Now I feel more secure about leaving him.

As my mother returns to her normal routine, I'll be freed up from some responsibilities to her. I've been visiting her about three times a week. I think that will continue for awhile, but it will be easier once she's back in her own apartment.

Now--the hard part. What exactly is my normal?  And is it the life that I want?

My normal isn't bad, but there are things I'd like to change. I want to exercise more, drink less, eat  better, read more books, see friends more often, write more, blog more, do more creative things.

To make this changes, I need to take action, set goals. A wish list by itself won't cut it. I've got some work ahead of me.