Close: December 2018
So this is the new year
And I don't feel any different
--Death Cab for Cutie
It's hard to summarize two weeks you spent largely alone with your art, but I would like to share a few tidbits from my residency. The Georgia woods were dead quiet, no cell service, no ambient light interfering with stargazing, nothing to do but write, walk, read, stretch, journal, breathe.
Time and space is a gift, but every rose has its thorns, and it's important for me to share that every residency comes with its Oh @$*# moments. Fear and doubt are a part of every creative journey; when they arrive, I acknowledge their presence but try not to get swindled into offering them a cup of tea, inviting them to settle in, listen to anything they have to say.
Instead, I take a walk, listen to the wind in the trees, the clink of my bear bell (OK, maybe they were sleeping, but I didn't want to take my chances on startling a bear). Usually after some movement and fresh air, I am ready to get back to work. I got a lot done in two weeks; there is no substitute for uninterrupted time, lack of distraction. It opens up space to think more conceptually and thematically. I learned a lot about my characters and what they are looking for. No word yet if they get what they want or exactly how their journeys change them. Saving that for the next residency.
Here are some photos of my experience at Hambidge. Lastly, I'll say that I met some very interesting people doing very interesting work. I was reminded, every evening as we gathered for dinner, that as solitary as art is, community is the key to a creative life. Thank you for shaping mine.
If you're looking for a way to review and honor 2018 before it ends, I suggest this end of the year ritual from Mothership co-owner Megan Bowser. I completed this while in residence and it was an affirming and inspiring way to close out the year. Here's how to do it:
Give yourself 5 to 10 minutes (or more!) for reflection on each quarter/season of 2018. You can use the guide of writing about where you noticed strengths, strains, surprises, skills, and support during each season. Journal, make lists, meditate, draw, or get creative with how you honor your story.
Optional sweetness: Light a candle and/or sit for a moment after reviewing each quarter/season
Then give yourself another 5 to 10 minutes to answer these questions:
What is one (or more) thing you are celebrating from 2018?
How will you celebrate?
Who will celebrate with you?
Make sure you are specific! Honoring your story, celebrating, and sharing that joy with others is an important element of personal sustainability. We are often seeking connection with others through our struggles. And while sharing those elements of our lives can be very necessary and healing, there is a whole layer of intimacy that we can access by sharing deep joy and celebration with each other.
Optional sweetness: once you are finished, make some tea or eat something and enjoy a few moments of quiet just for yourself.
This is a time to review, remember, and reflect. As we transition to winter and the light slowly begins to increase, may you find more peace, more delight.
Every December 31, I re-read this beautiful meditation by Verlyn Klinkenbourg on what it means (and doesn't mean) to usher in a new year. Enjoy.
I always wonder what it would be like to belong to a species — just for a while — that isn’t so busy indexing its life, that lives wholly within the single long strand of its being. I will never have even an idea of what that’s like.
If you read The Power, you may be interested in this piece by Naomi Alderman about leaving Orthodox Judaism behind, which she describes in her novel Disobedience. This article references what I call the 9/11 effect, the impulse to change one's life after trauma, and how it pushed her toward pursuing writing more actively (for me, it just led to dumping a boyfriend). If you haven't read The Power, go get it now!
While I rely on recommendations for my reading list, I also try to seek out titles that wouldn't necessarily be mentioned by reader friends. Usually these books are from cultures and eras that I know less about than I'd like. Gary Younge did just this, devoting a year to reading female African writers, many of whom are now on my to-read list. Not only do books from other experiences broaden our perspectives, they make for great, transportive reading--when I want to escape my world (a frequent experience!), I can enter another just by opening a book. Added bonus of reading this way: no wait times on a library hold list!
To Go Prompt
During my residency, I discovered I frequently use a certain approach to kickstart a scene between two characters I either don't know well or whose relationship I'm trying to discover. I call this method Kiss, Yell, Cry; the idea is that by the end of the scene there's going to be kissing, yelling, or crying. Pushing characters to a visible emotional reaction helps me understand their internal motivation. That Kiss, Yell, Cry framework is scaffolding; once I find the internal motivation, the scene's actions and outcomes often get revised to express those motivations in a different way. I invite you, on this last day of the year to set a timer for 15 minutes, take two characters you know or don't know, and make them Kiss, Yell, or Cry. Have fun!