Messy Boxes

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It's the beginning of a new year. It's my first post of the new year. Yet the new year is new only in reference to dates. Life hasn't changed; the simple reason being that I've carried it with me into 2015. And I'm finding that my life has grown a bit messy with regards to the roles that I've been called to play, particularly the roles of my writing and my mothering.

I've always been militantly intentional about keeping my writing separate from everything else. When around my kids, my mothering hat takes precedence--and I don't mind. It seems built into my hat-wearing system. I can be anywhere, doing anything, and if I hear my kids, they will direct my attention away from what I'm doing. I'm not complaining about this, nor do I begrudge them my attention. I love them. I love being their mom. I love mothering. However, when it comes to writing, I can't have my mind splitting off and opening the Mothering box when I need to be attending to the Writing box.

Thus Writing and Mothering were kept in their respective boxes--the Writing box being opened only when the Mothering box was closed and I had a quiet house or friendly coffee shop at my disposal.

My boxes, however, have gotten messy. They're intermingling. And, at least initially, it surprised me and even made me a little nervous. It started, actually, when I used my daughter's name as one of my characters in my novella that was published last year. She was 7 at the time, and suddenly aware that when I said "I'm writing", I am actually producing something. It isn't a nebulous distraction that results in my disappearance for unspecified periods of time. She now understands that I am writing stories. Stories that other people read. And that seems to have piqued her interest. Because now she's often asking me about my writing. About the stories I'm writing. About the people in the stories I'm writing.

"What do you write about?" she asked.

"About things that I see or people I meet or places I visit."

"Did you write about my messy room?"

"No."

"Did you write about all the firewood I carried from the shed up to the back porch?"

"No."

"Did you write about the toaster strudel I dropped on the kitchen floor this morning?"

"No."

"So, what do you write about again?"

"Um...."

Obviously, her ego-centricity (which is specific to a child her age) is still figuring itself out. But, just as she is aware of my Writing box, I am aware of her interest in my Writing box. And I like it. I like that I am able to show her that words matter. That words have power. That words transcend the boundaries of time and place and race and gender and religion.

Right now she may not understand all that, but by letting my Mothering and my Writing boxes intermingle, I find that both benefit from the exchange.

To be sure, there will be times when I will closet myself away in my Writing box of the imaginary and the literary. When the Mothering box will close and I will step away from it for a while (even happily, perhaps). But I'm finding that the hard lines I once drew between the two don't have to be so hard any more. I haven't struck the perfect balance by any means--and I'm sure I'll never perfectly master that--yet there's an unexpected freedom in the mess that I'm coming to accept and even enjoy.

I hope your New Year has begun as hopeful-y and as intermingle-y as mine!

Anna

Steaming and Streaming: it may be procrastination or it may simply be neuroses (but I blame Scott Foley)

Yesterday my husband and children were away, and I was left blissfully alone and to my own devices. So I took the day to do some writing, but more importantly, to create a writing schedule to help me organize deadlines and set aside the time I need to get writing done. Yet, if you're like me, the path to true organization and creative productivity never does run smooth. Here's a little glimpse into my internal monologue as I sat down to work:

Okay, for the month of January what's my writing schedule look like? Oo, I should create a table on Word and help myself visualize, no, not visualize, well, yes visualize, but also have something to refer to because my brain doesn't retain information the way it did in college when I was a double major taking 29 credit hours in a semester and never needing to use a planner or post-it notes for anything besides phone messages for my Brazilian roommate who never looked at them anyway. [takes out laptop and boots up] Oh, that's right, I'm out of post-it notes at work, so I should maybe bring a couple pads from home to restock. [walks downstairs to office, retrieves post-it notes, puts in work tote, looks at coffeemaker] While I'm down here I should make myself some coffee because I just watched Scott Foley on an old episode of Scandal and he's sipping a steaming beverage from a cool-looking mug and it makes me want to sip something hot from a cool-looking mug [walks to cabinet and retrieves said mug] especially since it's 11 degrees out and I haven't turned on the heat yet this morning. [places mug in Keurig, realizes the water in the Keurig needs refilled before more coffee can be brewed] Jonathan always refills the water in the Keurig, I'm not sure I know how to do it . . . but it's not rocket science. I passed Statistics in college on the first try, so I know that the left part of my brain has at least some functioning power. Ugh, I hated statistics. An early morning class that required an IV of caffeine to get through. [Pulls water canister from side of Keurig, walks to sink, refills and returns to Keurig.] Now, coffee. Because I want to look cool like Scott Foley. I remember when he was on Felicity, oh, how I loved that show in college. And it's on Netflix now. I should have a Felicity marathon. Because I clearly have so much free time on my hands. Although I'm not sure I can handle any more conversations that start with "Hey." [Rolls eyes. Places K-cup in Keurig, presses the "start" button, listens to the Keurig whir to life.] I can't wait to get my hands around a warm cool-looking mug. Warmth. That's right, I was gonna turn on the heat. [walks to thermostat] It's 45 degrees in here! No wonder I'm cold. Is it going to snow today? I should probably check the weather and see what the forecast is. [pulls out iPhone] Hm, freezing rain. Maybe we'll get a delay tomorrow for our first day back to school after 2 weeks off. It's gonna be painful tomorrow getting up at 5:30 AM. But I'm not gonna think about that right now. Instead, since I'm already on my phone, I may as well check Facebook and Twitter. Sweet, 6 more followers on Twitter. Hm, just can't seem to break a 1000 Twitter followers. I've been in the 930s for months. Why don't people follow me? I would follow me. Facebook, wow, lots of new status updates just posted. Sheesh! So-and-So just posted 87 new pins from Pinterest as a status update, because it's not enough for Pinterest followers to see those new pins, the Facebook world must know as well. And look at all these new years resolutions to lose weight, read more books, and haha! someone said they want to organize their K-cups. K-cups. My coffee. [returns to kitchen] Dang it. Coffee's cold. It's no wonder. It's still 45 degrees in here. There are icicles hanging from the nostrils of my cat. And now I can't sip a steaming beverage like Scott Foley because this is no longer steaming! Microwave to the rescue! [heats coffee in microwave, pours in creamer] Oo, we're nearly out of creamer. I should put that on the grocery list for this week. Shoot, I put my last post-it pad in my school bag. I'll need to use something else to start a grocery list. [rifle through debris on kitchen counter] Envelope from Poets & Writers promotional subscription letter. Perfect. Which reminds me, I need to take advantage of this great subscription deal. I've been meaning to subscribe for awhile, but this seems the perfect time to do so! [begins to fill out subscription info. hums.] There, subscription complete. I'll write out the check later. I should write that on a post-it to remind me. Wait. No more post-its. I'll use this now-superfluous envelope from my now-complete Poets & Writers subscription letter. But wasn't I going to use this for something else? Yes, grocery list. But what was I going to put on my list? No idea. [takes sip of coffee] Cold again? Already?! [places mug back in microwave and heats beverage in cool-looking mug] That'll do it. Good, steam. I see steam rising. I can drink my beverage that is steaming. [takes a sip] hot! Too hot! Well, I'll take the still-steaming mug upstairs and let it cool awhile so I can get back to writing. [after more iPhone checking, grocery list creating, and coffee reheating that takes nearly 45 minutes, stairs are climbed and writing resumes]

See? Cool, right? I know.

And now you see why this writer's productivity level is so ridiculously low. But before I go on, let me address the questions that you are, I'm certain, begging to have answered:

• Yes, I think in complete sentences
• Yes, I burned my tongue and it still has that tingly feeling you get when your mouth has been scalded
• No, I did not feel nearly as cool as Scott Foley looked when sipping from a steaming mug

Now, if you want to criticize my internal monologue, you can send complaints with a SASE to:

Complaint Department

c/o Olivia Pope (a.k.a.the Fixer)

1 ABC Television Studios and/or Netflix Instant Streaming Blvd.

Washington, D.C. 55555

After doing so you will immediately be apprehended by covert group B613 and thrown into a dark hole in the ground. Because that's how we deal with judgy people. Okay, so maybe watching 2 seasons of Scandal in 1 weekend was too much.

Happy Monday, all!

Digging Through Debris: a new year's resolution of sorts

I'm seeing scores of Facebook posts and Tweets proclaiming to the world shiny and hopeful New Year's resolutions. Decrees of "I will lose 30 pounds!" or "I will write a blog post every day!" or "I will clear out all my K-cups of coffee I don't drink and keep only those that I do!" (not kidding, I saw this last one posted on Facebook, though it may have been a bit more tongue-in-cheek.)

I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions. Mostly because those that I have made in the past I failed miserably to follow through on. However, I also think there's something to be said for having a definitive starting point and a clean slate before you. A corner to turn and thus obscure from view all previous resolutionary short-comings.

Yes, there's a chair underneath all that.

However, I'm also struggling to make any goal beyond clearing away the pile of laundry that's been stacked in my bedroom for the past month. Which, in an effort at only momentary procrastination (instead of sustained procrastination that could last for yet another month), I'm going to go On-Record with a resolution.

My 2014 New Year's resolution: Clear The Excess

I'm finding that clutter is my #1 frustration in my life. And, by clutter, I mean the superfluous. Pens that don't work next to the phone, so when racing to write something down it takes 4 tries to find one that will cooperate. Shoes I no longer wear. Toys the kids no longer play with. Clothes that no longer fit and I haven't worn since bearing my first child. Lit mags I say I'll read but know I never will. I find myself, like with the laundry pile, living by digging through debris. And that's too exhausting a practice to sustain. It's gotta end.

This also extends to my daily schedule. Cutting out the running around and schedule bogger-downers that I don't need. I'm finding too many piles of excess that I don't need, or that I need to stream-line, in order to regain some sanity. My "Need To Get To" pile needs to be gotten too. Grading the papers that are stacked at my elbow on my desk. Pulling up my manuscript of my novel-in-progress instead of posting another clever meme on Facebook. Stopping whatever "pressing pile" it is I'm working on so I can read a book with my kids at bedtime. Putting my phone down and engaging with the people around me. The excess needs siphoned out so I can get at the things that are truly important.

The excess must go. And I'm gonna start with this pile of laundry. So wish me luck. I'm going in.