BetweenTheWords

This card states that we often picture “writing” as sitting at a desk in a big chair; that is exactly how I picture it and I have often described my new setting as the ideal place that it is but the card says “move” so tonight I write from a living room chair with my feet resting on an ottoman.  This is comfortable too, but since I moved my writing location, I also find myself thinking of the way life moves on.  We start out with plan “A” thinking that everything will go as planned and then the plans change, people come and go, and life moves forward.  In September, we will officially be empty nesters.  After spending 25+ years raising children, thinking about children, planning for them, worrying about them and dreaming of their future, they are finally living it and we are left in a new place.  This is a place that is vaguely familiar from a time we dwelled in 29 years ago.  It is comfortable and safe with fun sprinkled in for good luck.  Moving always has its surprises, and its disappointments.  Moving takes getting used to but it is inevitable, unavoidable like aging, which we hope brings with its approach, wisdom.

Reading about the realistic goals of successful writers serves as inspiration and also gives me ideas of several different goal setting strategies.  I think, at this point, with my just born writing career crying for attention, I will choose to commit to writing every evening for 15 minutes.  This Blog is a pretty easy way to accomplish that goal and to possibly get helpful comments.   Using the Observation Deck as motivation at least takes away the pressure of coming up with a topic and gives me insight into the ideas of other writers.  This goal also gives me some latitude because I can apply the evening’s topic (card selected) to pretty much anything I am thinking about or that happened that day.  15 minutes is realistic because every night is different and I also want to stay committed to yoga, my friends and family, art and reading.  Once school starts up again, my energy level will probably drop a few degrees too.

I often wonder where this drive to write comes from and I wonder if it is genetic.  I see pictures of my birth-father and know of his history of being a writer, living in New York struggling to write for a living and living to write.  I wonder what level of success he achieved?  I also am fascinated by my mother’s ability to teach others to write so successfully and yet she doubted her own abilities as a writer.  I bet she would have been a wonderful writer.  A man she worked with at Pages Books for Children, who is now in graduate school at the University of Iowa, writing, dedicated his play to her.  Wow, she had an impact on so many.  It seems like everywhere I look, there are signs beckoning me to enter the writing world, to follow the path, to get inside my own head and to explore hidden worlds.  How does one begin?  I guess for me, finding motivation, sitting in the big leather swivel-rocker at the writing desk, with my feet up on the Amish milking stool, staring out at the darkness and seeing my reflection floating, the path is becoming much clearer.

The Elephant’s Child by Rudyard Kipling

I have six humble serving men

They taught me all I knew

Their names are what

and where and when

and why and how and who.

Using these questions to ask and learn about the character, events, and setting while writing a story can give realism and details.  I read the assignment of building a character-beginning with the question of “who?” but I can only think of my mother.  Most likely this is because I just sent out an e-mail reminder about the upcoming unveiling, but also might be because I discovered a batch of photos from the 50s while cleaning out my credenza this weekend.

Who was this person?  I knew her as my mother, but certainly she was at one point, a daughter, sister, wife, aunt, sister-in-law and friend.  So as an exercise, I will answer the posed questions, referring to my mother.

Who is my protagonist?  My mother.

When and where does he or she live? She lived in her beloved Los Angeles for most of her life. The stint in New York was a fun adventure, but her heart was always here. August 13, 1928-October 3, 2009.

What are this person’s passions?  Her passions were books, her family, her friends, Broadway Musicals (especially those from the 50s), Frank Sinatra, Edie Gorme, live jazz music, serious plays, movies with sub-titles about obscure topics, learning, keeping up with current events.

What are this persons deficiencies?  Fear:  of numbers, of scary, dangerous happenings, of being alone of taking chances.  Over analyzing and not living in the moment.  Letting practicality override spontaneous adventures and joy.

How does she begin each day? Reading the paper-cover to cover while sipping on black coffee and eating a pastry.  This could take hours!

What is a typical breakfast, lunch?  Well, the breakfast is mentioned.  Lunch would be a salad; either tuna, egg or chicken and fruit.

Where does she spend her leisure time?  On the sofa, reading; in a bookstore, browsing; exploring the city’s historic places or in a class for seniors, learning about music or theater.

Who are this character’s allies?  Family, friends, other book lovers and all prior colleagues and students.

Who are this character’s enemies?  Doctors with bad news (although she loved her doctors, just not the news).

My mother was so unique and special to so many special qualities that endeared her to so many.  As I rub the smooth wood of the writing desk and sit gazing at her memory objects:

A mug with the saying “Next year we’ve got to get organized,” although she was possibly over organized.

A plaque stating “Eschew Obfuscation”: the concealment of meaning in communication, making it confusing and harder to interpret.

A small brick, supposedly from the London Bridge.  Did I mention that she loved all things British?

A Peanuts card with Linus on one side stating “There’s no heavier burden than a great potential!” and on the other “No problem is so big or complicated that it can’t be run away from!”

Her oval letter bin from The Illustrated London News (see what I mean about the British influence?).

A small statue of a worker slumped over his desk which reads “There must be an easier way to make a living.”

A photo box of photos taken when I moved to college including one of my dog Charisma and my sister’s dog Sonny.

The last picture taken with my mom and dad and my family at Nicole’s elementary school culmination-a month before my dad died.

The organized cubbies are filled with her paper clips, sticky note pads and scissors.  Her stationary supplies fill the drawers and her desk pad sits beneath my lap top computer. Even with all of these comforts, there is a sob stuck in my throat and it is hard to keep the tears at bay.

A poem she loved is the perfect description of how I feel without her here:

Squint

Dappled green leaves, streaks of sunlight rippling water, tips of brown hinting at the end of summer resting on the ends of the leaves, circles of color…

The suggestion of squinting at a familiar scene in order to get another perspective allows me to gaze with new eyes at one of my favorite scenes:  my backyard.  As I sit at my writing desk, chair swiveled towards the yard, I am able to gaze at the forest of trees and plants, all selected and planted by us, the pool designed by us to resemble a natural pond and the lounge furniture beckoning.  Soaring birds landing for a drink in the small waterfall or hopping under the wisteria highlight this tranquil scene.  The breeze rustles the leaves and casts shadows across the fence separating our yard from the park on the other side.  With open eyes I see everything, but squinting, I get a feeling and see the mood of the yard, the time of day and the season of the year.

We often take the familiar for granted so squinting at places or people enables a new view, new light to be shed on the comfortable people and places in our lives.  Today as we drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, my daughter remarked on how she would never want to live in a place where you couldn’t see the ocean if you wanted to; a feeling I have always felt too. Just knowing that the ocean is 20 minutes away is enough sometimes, but driving over the canyon and sitting on the sand-watching surfers, pelicans and seagulls is heaven.  I cannot imagine giving that up for any reason so to remind myself, during the school year, I try to force myself to take a break once in awhile to go to the beach and sit for an hour or so, just watching or reading or squinting at the ocean.  I have to do this to remind myself that the ocean is there, just on the other side of the mountains.

First of all, I will make a list of ten things I want to explore and since Ray Bradbury was a friend of my mothers, I will use his example of creating a list of nouns that will lead to exploring potential writing ideas.  So here goes:

1.  The cake class

2.  The art gallery

3.  The garden

4.  The shelter

5.  The frosting

6.  The flowers

7.  The tile

8.  The family

9.  The music

10. The books

Now this is a list with possibilities that I can live with for awhile, ponder, reflect and cradle. Beginning with “the cake class,” I saw today, during my first class, that there is way more to cake decorating than first meets the eye.  There are trick of the trade, just like any other profession, that make it easier for those who know them to accomplish the task and make it look spectacular.  The first trick I learned today was to “crumb coat” the cake in order to seal in the crumbs.  Allowing the cake to slightly harden in the freezer for a few minutes creates a nice hard surface on which to spread the fluffy icing.

Making creative swirling lines of colored piping takes the trick of dragging a wooden toothpick horizontally through the vertical colored piping lines.  The border, consisting of swirling frosting shells connected by border lines connects the cake to the serving board.  Of course the butterfly needs antennae and a cute face.  The cute factor is a big part of this cake and the final, beautiful touch is the edible glitter lightly sprinkled over the entire cake.

Since my youngest daughter and I did this together, our two butterfly cakes rest silently in the refrigerator almost too pretty to cut.  Notice I said, almost for as if on cue, daughter number two arrives in the living room with the question, “Does anyone want to try cake?”  Writing, and frosting; both are essential!

I am feeling pretty good about my devotion to finding 15 minutes at night to sit down, draw a card from The Observation Deck, read the description in the accompanying book and ponder how it relates to me.  To my life and to what I want to say in my Blog.  This evening as I sit comfortably in my leather office chair, fan on to simulate a breeze on this hot summer night, staring out the window at the reflection of the pool, I am thinking about finding my need.  What is my need that I am suddenly devoted and inspired to write nightly when for years I have struggled to find the time to take the time for myself?  Naomi Epel (author of the Observation Deck) writes about identifying one’s own needs as a writer in order for the writing process to serve a deep purpose inside of one’s self.  I think that this is the reason at this point in my life I am able to devote the time to writing.

What are my needs?  I want to nurture my creativity and develop and expand my opportunities by seizing all creative opportunities that come my way.  By being open to anything, I am creating space for new creative ventures, such as the exploration of mosaic, to enter my life.  Creativity can develop when you use all of your senses to explore because it can embrace your being fully.  I am exploring mosaic art which involves creating and touching, I am writing which involves creating and seeing, I am listening to new music, new recordings of affirmation, I am taking a cake decorating class, tasting, and smelling, and all are connected to creating.

The creative process was always fascinating to my mother.  She thought a lot about it when planning lessons for her 9^th grade creative writing and honors English classes and she often explored the creative process on her own by reading, watching interesting television shows, going to movies and lectures and doing stimulating sight seeing around the Los Angeles area.  It was my mother that introduced me to the Adamson House in Malibu famous for the amazing tile work, the Skirball Cultural Center exhibits and lectures, the Laemmle Theaters showing unique and foreign films and of course books!  I remember her talking endlessly about a movie she adored called “Why Man Creates” that examined the need for people to create.  It had such an impact on me that I was determined, as a teacher, to allow my students plenty of opportunities to use creativity in their art, their writing and their play.

As one who has so often given to and supported others’ creativity, it is now officially my turn to explore and to find out what I have inside of me, what I can offer and where my creativity will lead me.

“There’s nothing like eavesdropping to show you that the world outside your head is different from the world inside your head.” ~Thorton Wilder

Listening to the conversations of others can be enlightening, as I discovered while at freshman orientation at my daughter’s future university.  There is plenty of mingle-time scheduled in, allowing for parents to meet each other and feel connected in some small way to the much bigger world of the university.  Eager student volunteers meander throughout the crown asking if we have concerns or questions and offering uncensored answers to our questions.  Direct dialogue doesn’t always give the hidden answers that eavesdropping allows though, and the one common thread of conversation most heard was the proud parent’s introduction by way of their children’s’ accomplishments.  I always wonder why parents feel the need to live vicariously through their children’s accomplishments and though we are, for the most part, proud of our children, it seems a bit sad that that is the way we identify our own accomplishments.

Parents often feel the need to mention, GPAs, SAT scores and the numerous scholarships offered and college acceptances their children have.  The motivation for this is questionable.  Is it to make others feel inadequate, to boost their own egos or simply the inability to remember how to talk about anything but their children?  Now that my own children are heading off into the world of adulthood I find myself confronted with a mirror of my life and the reflection of 20+ years of energy and focus in a single direction, or I should say, in three closely related direction; my three daughters.  It is now time to step back, shake myself off a bit and redirect my energy inward and in doing so, I find comfort in quite, peace in solitude and creativity springing from new sources.

Today’s card, Set Limits, offers the suggestion of actually limiting either the time or the type of writing in order to provide a structure that enables a piece to be reasonable.  It makes sense to me and I am allowing the limit of writing on Blog entry each day and spending 15 minutes to do it.  I confess I skipped yesterday because I was at my lovely relax and renew yoga class until 9:00 p.m. and basically collapsed after class, so I guess I will say I will write approximately every day.

Setting writing limits reminds me of organizing, which is one of my favorite activities as in organizing households, my classroom, a story or a mosaic. Creative writing is similar to creating a mosaic, created of small bits of glass, reflective, sparkling, sometimes muted, all unique and when you put them together, a new and better piece is created.  Attaching them to a solid foundation is the precursor for a strong piece.  Once the glue is dried, the tiny pieces are set, but still vulnerable so grout is applied.  The grout can be neutral or colored and must be chosen with consideration to the colors of the little pieces.  It is possible to use a variety of grout colors for an artistic flair, and when dried, the grout enhances the colors of the tiles and glass, making the small details pop out.

Some might wonder: why create something out of old or used pieces?  But the charm is in taking something, that might be thought of as worthless by itself, and combining it with other small pieces in order to give it a new life; a life that can bring beauty, knowledge or simply another perspective.

Writing is a dream, fantasy and passion for me and I long for time to write, something to write about and the ability to do it well, but at the same time, I have lately been drawn to artistic endeavors and I find that indulging in these opens the spickets of creativity and makes writing flow more freely.  Co-teaching a mosaic class this summer has allowed me to explore a medium that is new to me and I am finding that spending time in the studio is a muse for my creative brain.  I enjoy sitting, examining lovely tiles, creating designs and using new tools and materials.  I enjoy translating the language of mosaic into understandable language for children, helping them discover their own ideas and gently guiding them to stay focused and create a work of art that instills pride.  I have never pictured myself as a visual artist and don’t have much talent for painting or drawing but mosaic works for me.  I can play with shapes and colors; I can create thematic lessons revolving around mosaic styles including ideas to transfer the knowledge through visual, oral, and kinesthetic manners.  It is interesting to me that my involvement with the mosaic classes has brought me back to my creative self.

I realized today the importance of having a creative outlet when Gary and I went with artist Karen and her husband Barry, to a homeless shelter in Boyle Heights to assist with a mosaic project that Karen does monthly with the residents.  We brought along two of my mother’s dear friends, Helen and Libby, who grew up in Boyle Heights. We were all impressed by the dedication the residents of the shelter demonstrated when it came to painting and designing their tiles.  They focused for 2 hours and beamed with pride while showing their completed projects.  I ended up playing with the children while their parents painted tiles.  We played Candyland and read stories and talked about taking turns, patience and treating people nicely.  There were about 10 children in the little room stocked with donated blocks, dolls, games and books and the age range was from two to seven.  It was both draining and exhilarating but by 6 o’clock, as we cleaned up and left to grab a bite at a local, age-old Mexican restaurant, we all felt a camaraderie and sense of purpose doing something of value, something creative, something to help others create and to give, without expectations.