Posting or Not

I wrote my last post at a writing retreat of sorts. Unfortunately, the promised Internet connection did not materialize and I couldn't post what I had written.

In the days leading to my writing getaway, I thought a lot about what I wanted to work on.  I had hoped that August would be a more productive month for me. It wasn't. I've only written two blog posts and a few hundred words of a novel. I don't know where the novel is headed.

August has been tough in other ways as well. The month is half over and I've only gone to the gym twice. My work load has lightened, but it's been intense in some ways.

Even though I didn't do much writing, the getaway was valuable for me. I spent some time with my friend Darlene; plus it was nice to just go away somewhere for a few days.

That "retreat" deserves a post of its own. Maybe a short story with just a few exaggerations.

At least I can say I've got some inspiration.

A Writer is...

…someone who writes.

That was a tagline of a writing workshop brochure I saw once. I even cut out the slogan and pasted it onto an Artist Trading Card.

My mother joked about it—it seemed so obvious to her. But she doesn’t have to deal with the question of whether she’s a “real” writer.

It took me a long time before I felt comfortable calling myself a writer. I remember how happy I was when my friend Annette said she always described me as a writer regardless of what kind of job I held or how I made my money.

Then there’s the question of whether you are a real writer.

Can you be a real writer if you just scribble in a notebook?  

Can you be a real writer if you’ve never published?

Can you be a real writer if you haven’t been paid for your writing?

Can you be a real writer if you don’t write every day?

 Are real writers some kind of special breed in some unique habitat?

This reminds me of Julia Cameron’s exercise from The Artist Way: fill in the blank:

1.    Artists are_____________________________.

2.    Artists are _____________________________.

3.    Artists are _____________________________.

4.    Artists are _____________________________.

5.    Artists are _____________________________.

6.    Artists are ______________________________.

7.    Artists are ______________________________.

8.    Artists are ______________________________.

9.    Artists are ______________________________.

10.  Artists are ______________________________.

A variation is to repeat the exercise with ten prompts:

Real artists are ______________________________

 

Her point is that we create a mystique around artists and writers. Either we set them up as antisocial failures: the starving artists, clad in all black living in cold attic garrets in Paris. Alternatively, we imagine people whose ideas emerge fully formed; geniuses who effortlessly create works of great beauty.

Ultimately I am a writer because I feel like a writer. It’s something I both love and hate to do. I may lag; I may get confused; I may falter. But I will always return. I will write.  

A New Start?

I have just spent several minutes trying to correct the paragraph spacing in yesterday's post. Frustrating. I don't want to have to do this on an ongoing basis.

Onto positive news, I went to the gym today. It's been almost a month since my last visit. I have a sore left shoulder--it's been bothering me for about a week--so I did legs, abs and cardio. It always amazes me how easily I can get off track with working out. I should expect it by now.

Let's try it all again: writing daily, working out, the good things.

July Thoughts

It's hard for me to believe that July is over. It was a busy month and flew by before I knew it.


July was a good work month. I taught one complete SAT class and started two other classes, one SAT and one ACT. I participated in a program with the Norwalk Arts Commission that trained student docents to conduct tours of Norwalk's WPA murals. I co-led one adult tour. I learned a lot.


Unfortunately, July was bad for writing, blogging and going to the gym. There's no valid reason for this. As my mother used to say, I'm just making a statement. (She's never been big on analysis.) In comparison, some people say I over think everything.


Today I made plans to go on a private writers retreat with my friend Darlene.We decided to forgo the usual writing retreat that we have attended for several years. Both of us have financial concerns, but have decided this will be worth it. 

I need to decide what writing I will focus on for two-and-a-half days. I want to make the most of this opportunity.

Mets Win!

Yes, the Mets have been winning. No, this is not some kind of science fiction alternate reality or parallel universe.

Last night, the Mets won their 4,000th franchise victory, the 20th team  to do so. Rookie pitcher Jacob deGrom was impressive, striking out 11 for the second time in 11 career starts. deGrom was only the third pitcher in Mets history to accomplish this. The other two? Nolan Ryan and Dwight Gooden. The Mets also collected 18 hits--a Citi Field record.

I would have posted this last night, but was too tired to wait until the end of the game.

Luckily, the good news continued tonight. Dillon Gee returned from the DL, and the Mets won their fourth game in a row (and their fifth win in six days.) They've won the first three of a four game series against the Atlanta Braves.

The Mets are still seven games under .500. But may I still dream?

TCM Movie Night

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford 1936

TCM aired this film on my birthday; I recorded it because I like the leads William Powell and Jean Arthur. Jeff and I watched it last night.

The imdb reviews compare it to The Thin Man films. I get this; William Powell plays a detective, and he is perhaps best known as playing Nick Charles.

Powell plays Dr. Lawrence Bradford; Jean Arthur is his ex-wife Paula. Brad isn't a detective himself, but Paula is a mystery writer who draws him into murder cases. This particular case involves a jockey's death. The murder method is far-fetched.

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford has a strong supporting cast including James Gleason, Grant Mitchell, Eric Blore (it seems as if he was always a butler) and Robert Armstrong. It's a fun, fast-paced movie. I for one would have enjoyed a series.

Local Art

For me, the "summer" art season started with the Diverse Norwalk exhibit on my birthday. We had hoped to go to Westport's Art About Town that night too, but it was rescheduled due to rain. So we went the following week.

The opening night of Art About Town was like a block party. Main Street was closed to traffic. I noticed more food and music than art. Two bands were playing at opposite ends of the street, and several restaurants were selling wine and beer and had expanded their outdoor seating areas. There was face painting for the kids. My favorite part:

  

May 29 was also the first night of the Freese Park Artist Village, a community event that spanned three weekends with music, poetry and art. One of the Friday night events was s Stroll and Sip tour of the WPA murals. I participated twice, once shadowing two other docents, the second time as a co-leader. One of the planners at Norwalk 2.0 said they planned three weekends to avoid rain. In a way, it could have hurt the event, because people may have thought that they had plenty of time to check it out. I know I did.

Last weekend was the Norwalk Art Festival at Mathews Park. This was my favorite art event so far this year. We are just three blocks away and Mathews Park is dog friendly, so Jeff, Spike and I walked there. We got a hand painted magnet to add to our collection, a Christmas gift, a selection of delicious salad dressings including tomato basil, ginger lime, white nectarine lavender and cayenne watermelon. I don't like to call them salad dressings--it makes them sound too pedestrian. It's been fun experimenting with them.  

Next weekend the Loft Artists Association in Stamford is having a show. I'm looking forward to seeing more local art.