therestlessnest

where life's not empty, it's restless.

Archive for the tag “Anne Lamott”

My Writing Process Blog Tour

DSC00865I’ve been tagged in the My Writing Process Blog Tour by Kim Brown, editor of the wonderful Minerva Rising literary journal. Check out what Kim’s been up to at http://www.the-confident-writer.net.

This blog is a relay that involves answering four specific questions and then naming the authors who will follow. So here we go:

What am I working on??

I am working on the first draft of my second memoir. (My first, Her Beautiful Brain, will be published this September by She Writes Press.) The working title for this book is The Observant Doubter. It’s about my own checkered history of faith and doubt.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Memoir is a slippery, shape-shifting sort of a genre, so this is a difficult question to answer. For me, memoir is not autobiography but more like extended essay writing, a way to explore what have become (like it or not) the enduring themes of my life. And I do mean “explore.” What I love about writing memoir are the new insights that come as you write about events in your life that you might have thought you already understood in every possible way. The memoir writers I admire include Anne Lamott, Elizabeth McCracken and Michael Klein. What I love about their work is that it asks questions. It meanders. It doesn’t follow a straight chronological line.

Why do I write what I do?

My first book was driven by a need to honor my mother’s life and to articulate the uniquely cruel fate that is Alzheimer’s disease, an illness that is still widely misunderstood and feared even though it is poised to become the public health nightmare of the aging Boomers. My second book is driven by a desire to give voice to those of us who are neither devout, rock-solid believers or atheists. I believe there are a lot of us. I believe we are no less serious about our search for meaning than those at the outer ends of the religious spectrum. I also believe there are many of us who, like me, have had periods of more fervent faith and still feel a lot of confusion about it.

Both Her Beautiful Brain and The Observant Doubter weave personal and universal themes, which I love to do as a writer. I get a lot of practice every week writing The Restless Nest radio commentary and blog.

How does your writing process work?

I get up early not to write, but to read for an hour and to scribble a few pages in my journal. This sets me up for the day, which could mean sitting right down to write but more often means doing my day job (making short films for nonprofits) and slipping in an hour or two of writing when I can. I am lucky that I can do this. I work from home. I save tons of time by not having to commute. Every day is different, and I like the variety. If I have a long shooting day or a pressing deadline, that won’t be a writing day. I try to set aside longer chunks of time on the weekend. But I’m a restless person, so a long chunk for me would be three or four hours.

Sometimes, the words flow, but more often, writing feels like hard work, like I’m building sentences, one word at a time, with primitive, handmade tools. I have to pep-talk myself constantly, with inane phrases like, “a page a day can become a book in a year!” or: “finish this paragraph and you can go make coffee. And have one of those Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups.”

Here’s who’s up next on the My Writing Process Blog Tour:

Allison Green is the author of a novel, Half-Moon Scar (St. Martin’s). Her essays, stories, and poems have appeared in publications such as ZYZZYVA, Calyx, Bellingham Review, Willow Springs, Raven Chronicles, and Yes! Magazine. She lives and teaches writing in Seattle.

Allison blogs at http://allisongreen.org

Isla McKetta is the author of Polska, 1994 due out from Editions Checkpointed May 22, 2014 and co-author of Clear Out the Static in Your Attic: A Writer’s Guide for Transforming Artifacts into Art. She writes book reviews for writers at A Geography of Reading and serves on the board of Hugo House.

Isla blogs at http://islamcketta.com

In May, I’ll be posting an interview with Isla about her new novel on The Restless Nest.

Seattle readers: On Thursday, May 1 at 7pm at Ravenna/3rd Place Books, I will be reading with fellow authors from the new anthology,  Into the Storm: Journeys with Alzheimer’s. 

 

Radio/podcast lovers: This week on KBCS I rebroadcast a piece called Trilliums from April 2012.

Here’s nest artist Kim Groff-Harrington’s website.

Advertisements

Slowness Breaks

When you’ve been moving fast, slowing down sometimes feels nearly impossible. Especially if you’ve been flitting like a hummingbird from task to task, as we so often do in our speed-loving, app-happy, instant-everything culture.

For example: every single time I sit down to write, I have to relearn the most basic of lessons, which is: Going slow is the fastest way to get the job done. Because there is just no way to do it besides: One. Word. At. A. Time. It’s like bricklaying: it happens brick by brick. Or, to use author Anne Lamott’s famous example, if you are writing a school report about birds, you have to go bird by bird.

Last week, I activated my new smart phone. Oh, the new high-speed horizons! But something unexpected happened on the way to my new 21st century lifestyle. In my eagerness to embrace all that my new toy had to offer, I brought my four-year-old laptop into the computer store for some upgrades. Long story short, something somewhere got miswired in the process and I ended up making four trips to the store and spending quite a bit of the week without my number-one tool: my laptop.

Fortunately, I picked the right week: no looming work deadlines. But I still felt like I’d been handcuffed. Sure, I had my sparkly new phone. But you can’t write write on a phone. And yes, I own pens and pencils and I used them plenty last week. But for 25 years, my habit has been to scribble unedited thoughts and reflections in a journal and then compose anything more formal than that with the help of a keyboard: a real one, not a slippery little wallet-sized touchscreen.

So, for five days, I did what I could with the tiny screen. And on my four treks to the computer store, while waiting for various attempted fixes, I did a lot of window shopping and a tiny amount of actual shopping at the other shops in the glamorous University Village, which, in its quaint early days, was the shopping center of my childhood and featured a Woolworth’s, a Singer sewing store, and best of all, a tiny bookshop called Kay’s Bookmark, where I spent hours of my young life.

By visit number four, I was so done with the U Village and so fed up I knew what I badly needed was a slowness break.

I packed a notebook and a pencil. I headed for the Washington Park Arboretum. When I got out of the car, a light rain had just begun to fall. I found a tree by a pond, its leaves thick enough to keep most of the rain off my head, and sat down. I wrote a little, word by word, recalling memories of the daydreamy, poetry-writing Arboretum rambles of my adolescence. But mostly, I watched the raindrops dance on the pond.

I wasn’t there long; maybe half an hour, before I got the call from the store and headed on to the Village. But what a difference that slowness break made in my ability to brave the final round of laptop-repair-stress.

In a recent survey by the Trust for Public Land, Seattle was rated ninth in the nation in quality and quantity of public green spaces. These parks are ours. Yours, mine, ours! Claim them. Try a ten-minute stop sometime soon and see how different you feel. Back away from all your gadgets—phone, computer, car—and take a slowness break. You might just find it’s the fastest way there is to restore your ability to get stuff done.

Radio lovers: you can hear the Restless Nest commentaries every Tuesday at 7:50 a.m., Thursdays at 4:54 p.m. and Fridays at 4:55 p.m. on KBCS, streaming online at kbcs.fm and on the air at 91.3 in the Seattle area.  Podcasts available.

Here’s nest artist Kim Groff-Harrington’s website.

Post Navigation