A big shout out to the dead presidents who keep me home from school tomorrow!
In all seriousness, we enjoy many freedoms and priviledges that should not be taken lightly, and I know this. Also, the gentlemen we honor on Presidents' Day deserve to be recognized as more than yet another reason that kids have off from school.
Despite this, in this particular moment... I am so, so, SO glad for a day off tomorrow.
So, once again, a big shout out to Abe and George.
You see... I've been so BUSY lately. I know, so have you. So has everyone. But I've gotta be honest, my days have been so jam packed, it's like there's not enough time to even blink, or breathe. Forgive the lame use of hyperbole, but seriously... I'm in definite need of a day off tomorrow.
The idea of having a full day in which I'm not obligated to do anything or be anywhere is beyond exciting. Of course, I'll end up filling it with unexciting yet necessary tasks, such as cleaning, grading, and lesson planning. But there will also be time. Glorious, glorious time.
Time to sleep in. Time to read the Bible. Time to read just for the sake of reading (knocked out Things Fall Apart, by the way. Terribly sad, but a moving novel all the same. Totally get why it's a classic). Time to write. Yes, please, I am DESPERATE for time to write!
Since the Winter Writing Retreat, when I left so inspired and determined, I've found almost no time for writing. I don't know how that happens, but I'm pretty sure it's not unique to me and my writing. I think so many times, when we resolve to do something for ourselves, something we really enjoy, and especially after we've had a taste of doing that something, and are particularly encouraged, this little thing called "life" happens.
And then there are meetings to go to. And homework to sit and supervise as your child attempts to complete it. And stuff to bake. And a little thing called a career. And bedtime stories, and ballet practices, and doctor's appointments, and, and, and...
And the list goes on and on. And whatever it was, that thing that you do just for you (and for me, it's my writing)... it slowly falls by the wayside.
So here I sit, a month after the retreat. Knowing how shamefully few words I've written since I left, so ready to write on and on and on. I suppose it will be a constant struggle, because there won't be any more hours added to the day any time soon.
But I've got to prioritize. And no, my writing cannot come before my daughter. It can't come before God and the hours I put forth serving my church. It can't come before my job. If this means I'll never be published, I suppose I'll just have to accept that now.
But here's the thing--I love writing enough that though it can't be number one, it can make itself onto my list of daily must-dos. It's like 90% of my struggles on this planet... I've just got to get more organized. I've got to get a plan.
As an experiment: I'm going to start setting my alarm one and a half hours earlier. My Bible reading, which is now jammed in either at lunch time, or the end of the day, will now come first, in the extra half an hour. My writing will follow, and then I'll resume my regular schedule.
We'll see how it goes. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a morning person. But it would do me good to start the day looking at how God wants to speak with me. And to write everyday would help me stay fresh in my work, instead of having to reread everything I wrote before I'm able to continue writing, since it's been so long I can't even remember what I wrote!
Will it work? Time will tell. I won't be afraid to fail... because failure is just another part of life. But I also won't be afraid to try. There is a season for everything... and I'm feeling like I'm due for a change.
And thankfully, tomorrow, with all it's beautifully clean white slatedness, will be the perfect lazy day to implement my plan!
The true test, of course, will follow.
Showing posts with label Winter Writing Retreat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter Writing Retreat. Show all posts
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
A Love Affair...
This weekend, I experienced one of those once in a lifetime, luxuriously refreshing string of events that you might equate with an unlikely romantic fantasy or an unspoken, secret dream: in a beautiful oceanfront hotel, where I watched the sunrise over the sea, talked all hours into the night and early morning, enjoyed laughter from the depths of the soul, invigorating intellectual conversation, and plastic cups filled with cheap wine, I fell in love...
It wasn't a weekend getaway with a long lost lover (though that might have been nice, too). This weekend, during the Eastern Shore Writing Project's Winter Writing Retreat, I fell in love again with writing, with living, and with people. It was a love affair of different sorts.
I engaged in a whirlwind romance of the mind as my colleagues and I examined the power of words, allowing ourselves to express heartfelt sentiments about writing, teaching, and communicating. I wrote, I reflected, I read my words aloud. I laughed. I felt deeply my own pain and joy, and that of those around me, as we captured the little miracles of life and typed them into existence on our laptops, jotted them into permanence in patterend journals and tattered spiral notebooks. We came together in a way that is truly rare. I realized, once again, that writing is a bridge across cultures, years, gender, experience. I smiled and cried as I was touched by the words of those around me, and I was humbled as I watched my words fall meaningfully onto the ears of others.
I was swept off my feet spiritually, as well. In a place when I was more inspired than I have ever been by the common bonds uniting us, so many vastly different people, I reflected on what God has done for me, the incredible gift of salvation that I believe is found in Jesus Christ. I ran across the boardwalk at sunrise, watching the incredible display of glowing pink rays lighting up a still soft, star speckled sky, the cold ocean consistently lapping the shore below. I thought of how big my God was, yet how accessible He is, to all who seek him. I prayed for my new friends, and thanked God for the amazing blessings He has given me.
Of course, it's all very noble to claim that I had planned this spirtual rejuvenation in conjunction with my adamant need to exercise. Truth is, I had to force myself to run. Self, I began, you've gained at least five pounds if not more over the holidays. You embarassed yourself terribly at your last 5K. If you don't run at least once this weekend, I'm going to kick your own butt later.
So I exercised my resolve and woke up at 5:30 in the morning, as to not interfere with the precious writing time or the socialization to which I had quickly become addicted, having come together with some of the most interesting and fantastic people I had ever known. As I'm too cheap to pay for a gym membership, and too much of a pansy to be hardcore with my running in the icy month of January, I decided a run in the hotel's treadmill would be a special treat.
Down I went to the gym on the second floor, and yes, it's quite possible that I forgot my sweats and had to run in my pajama pants (don't worry. They're gray, and except for the penguins and surfboards across my derriere, I don't think anyone would have noticed anything suspicious about my attire). Luckily, I was the only lunatic in the gym at what I would have thought was an ungodly morning hour.
*Sidenote--I just had to google "butt synonym" to figure out how to spell derriere. True confessions of the randomness of my life.
So anyway, I attacked the treadmill, and it attacked me back. I've only resorted to indoor running a handful of times in my life, and when I checked my mileage after twenty-five minutes, a timeframe when during my normal efforts outside I would have been at close to three miles, I had managed to run just over two. Sweaty, hot, and disgusted by the stuffiness of my gym and my poor performance, I jumped off the treadmill and wandered out to the balcony to breathe in some fresh air.
To my delight, it wasn't a frigid, furious winter morning, as I assumed it would have been. The cold that greeted me was exactly what I needed to refocus my mind. I jogged down the stairs, having found the inspiration to finish what I'd started. I ran the final mile down the deserted Ocean City boardwalk, awed by the spectacular display of nature in the sunrise, convinced that God had chosen this moment to talk to me.
It was a beautiful experience.
The people I spent the weekend with: dear older friends and instant newer ones, too, were truly some of the most fascinating I've ever met. Many of us are teachers. Some of us are students. All of us are writers. Stacie, the single mom of four I invited from my church, one of my favorite friends I made last year, discovered that she is, in fact, a writer. My friend Greg, a college student and full-time construction worker, held his own and kept us in hysterics as he carried his weight as one third of our entire male population (the only time you'll be in the minority as a white male, we joked). His creative documentary on seagulls is both hilarious and a bit scary. Once he posts it online, I'll provide a link. Laura, who has easily done enough living in her short time on this planet to have lived fifteen people's lifetimes, told of her adventures in twenty-one countries, and her Deep Conversations with Random Strangers, a brilliant book idea that stems from her energy and fearlessness in meeting and connecting with new people. I heard sentences from her mouth that I would never anticipate hearing again, things like "So I was in Chicago, and it was after I'd won third place in the Amateur Ventriliquest Competition..." We practiced the art of Deep Conversations with Random Strangers, marching into The Atlantic Hotel in Berlin, demanding to know if this was in fact the hotel Richard Gere stayed in during the filming of Runaway Bride. The gracious owner, who was sidetracked by her duty to check in actual paying guests, handed us the key to Room #20, and up the stairs we went. Cynthia touched the bed Mr. Gere slept in; we all admired the toilet he peed in.
We finished the weekend out with Jody Kelly Wright, a local author and partner of a West Ocean City restaurant. She spoke beautifully, encouraging us all, inviting us to celebrate whatever successes it is that we have achieved, and to constantly challenge ourselves to take it to the next level, whatever that may be. Jody is living my dream. She has had one book published by a small press, and is now an agented author pursuing traditional publication for another of her novels. I think given her energy, dedication, and obvious talent, she is a definite name to watch. As I sat in that room with other aspiring authors, I thought back to that grueling run on the treadmill, and how the moment I stepped outside, I was free to really run. It suddenly became easier, because instead of running in place, I was actually going somewhere. I think so many of us run, run, run through our lives going nowhere, just as I was struggling and huffing away on that treadmill. Only in breaking loose and running in the fresh air, which we are so often afraid to do, because of the cold, because of the inconvenience, because of the unknown, because of the challenge, only when we venture outside, do we find we are finally able to run somewhere. I don't even know that where you go is the important thing... I just know it matters that you are moving in a direction of your choice, as opposed to staying still despite your best efforts.
As I thought about God and all his majesty, the gifts he gives us that we take for granted or get distracted from (the most sacred of which is the gift of His own son), I vowed to not run in place any longer. I vowed to pursue my dreams and those God has for me, and to not settle for running in place, to exhaust myself in a struggle to make it through without actually going anywhere. I want to live life to the fullest. As I returned to Salisbury for church in the evening, my pastor's words summed up my realizations of the weekend:
"It is never too late to be the person you were always meant to become."
Why wait another day? We are given so very few, and they are truly precious. I'm getting off the treadmill now.
Will you?
Why settle for an affair when you could be married?
Here's to living each day to the fullest.
It wasn't a weekend getaway with a long lost lover (though that might have been nice, too). This weekend, during the Eastern Shore Writing Project's Winter Writing Retreat, I fell in love again with writing, with living, and with people. It was a love affair of different sorts.
I engaged in a whirlwind romance of the mind as my colleagues and I examined the power of words, allowing ourselves to express heartfelt sentiments about writing, teaching, and communicating. I wrote, I reflected, I read my words aloud. I laughed. I felt deeply my own pain and joy, and that of those around me, as we captured the little miracles of life and typed them into existence on our laptops, jotted them into permanence in patterend journals and tattered spiral notebooks. We came together in a way that is truly rare. I realized, once again, that writing is a bridge across cultures, years, gender, experience. I smiled and cried as I was touched by the words of those around me, and I was humbled as I watched my words fall meaningfully onto the ears of others.
I was swept off my feet spiritually, as well. In a place when I was more inspired than I have ever been by the common bonds uniting us, so many vastly different people, I reflected on what God has done for me, the incredible gift of salvation that I believe is found in Jesus Christ. I ran across the boardwalk at sunrise, watching the incredible display of glowing pink rays lighting up a still soft, star speckled sky, the cold ocean consistently lapping the shore below. I thought of how big my God was, yet how accessible He is, to all who seek him. I prayed for my new friends, and thanked God for the amazing blessings He has given me.
Of course, it's all very noble to claim that I had planned this spirtual rejuvenation in conjunction with my adamant need to exercise. Truth is, I had to force myself to run. Self, I began, you've gained at least five pounds if not more over the holidays. You embarassed yourself terribly at your last 5K. If you don't run at least once this weekend, I'm going to kick your own butt later.
So I exercised my resolve and woke up at 5:30 in the morning, as to not interfere with the precious writing time or the socialization to which I had quickly become addicted, having come together with some of the most interesting and fantastic people I had ever known. As I'm too cheap to pay for a gym membership, and too much of a pansy to be hardcore with my running in the icy month of January, I decided a run in the hotel's treadmill would be a special treat.
Down I went to the gym on the second floor, and yes, it's quite possible that I forgot my sweats and had to run in my pajama pants (don't worry. They're gray, and except for the penguins and surfboards across my derriere, I don't think anyone would have noticed anything suspicious about my attire). Luckily, I was the only lunatic in the gym at what I would have thought was an ungodly morning hour.
*Sidenote--I just had to google "butt synonym" to figure out how to spell derriere. True confessions of the randomness of my life.
So anyway, I attacked the treadmill, and it attacked me back. I've only resorted to indoor running a handful of times in my life, and when I checked my mileage after twenty-five minutes, a timeframe when during my normal efforts outside I would have been at close to three miles, I had managed to run just over two. Sweaty, hot, and disgusted by the stuffiness of my gym and my poor performance, I jumped off the treadmill and wandered out to the balcony to breathe in some fresh air.
To my delight, it wasn't a frigid, furious winter morning, as I assumed it would have been. The cold that greeted me was exactly what I needed to refocus my mind. I jogged down the stairs, having found the inspiration to finish what I'd started. I ran the final mile down the deserted Ocean City boardwalk, awed by the spectacular display of nature in the sunrise, convinced that God had chosen this moment to talk to me.
It was a beautiful experience.
The people I spent the weekend with: dear older friends and instant newer ones, too, were truly some of the most fascinating I've ever met. Many of us are teachers. Some of us are students. All of us are writers. Stacie, the single mom of four I invited from my church, one of my favorite friends I made last year, discovered that she is, in fact, a writer. My friend Greg, a college student and full-time construction worker, held his own and kept us in hysterics as he carried his weight as one third of our entire male population (the only time you'll be in the minority as a white male, we joked). His creative documentary on seagulls is both hilarious and a bit scary. Once he posts it online, I'll provide a link. Laura, who has easily done enough living in her short time on this planet to have lived fifteen people's lifetimes, told of her adventures in twenty-one countries, and her Deep Conversations with Random Strangers, a brilliant book idea that stems from her energy and fearlessness in meeting and connecting with new people. I heard sentences from her mouth that I would never anticipate hearing again, things like "So I was in Chicago, and it was after I'd won third place in the Amateur Ventriliquest Competition..." We practiced the art of Deep Conversations with Random Strangers, marching into The Atlantic Hotel in Berlin, demanding to know if this was in fact the hotel Richard Gere stayed in during the filming of Runaway Bride. The gracious owner, who was sidetracked by her duty to check in actual paying guests, handed us the key to Room #20, and up the stairs we went. Cynthia touched the bed Mr. Gere slept in; we all admired the toilet he peed in.
We finished the weekend out with Jody Kelly Wright, a local author and partner of a West Ocean City restaurant. She spoke beautifully, encouraging us all, inviting us to celebrate whatever successes it is that we have achieved, and to constantly challenge ourselves to take it to the next level, whatever that may be. Jody is living my dream. She has had one book published by a small press, and is now an agented author pursuing traditional publication for another of her novels. I think given her energy, dedication, and obvious talent, she is a definite name to watch. As I sat in that room with other aspiring authors, I thought back to that grueling run on the treadmill, and how the moment I stepped outside, I was free to really run. It suddenly became easier, because instead of running in place, I was actually going somewhere. I think so many of us run, run, run through our lives going nowhere, just as I was struggling and huffing away on that treadmill. Only in breaking loose and running in the fresh air, which we are so often afraid to do, because of the cold, because of the inconvenience, because of the unknown, because of the challenge, only when we venture outside, do we find we are finally able to run somewhere. I don't even know that where you go is the important thing... I just know it matters that you are moving in a direction of your choice, as opposed to staying still despite your best efforts.
As I thought about God and all his majesty, the gifts he gives us that we take for granted or get distracted from (the most sacred of which is the gift of His own son), I vowed to not run in place any longer. I vowed to pursue my dreams and those God has for me, and to not settle for running in place, to exhaust myself in a struggle to make it through without actually going anywhere. I want to live life to the fullest. As I returned to Salisbury for church in the evening, my pastor's words summed up my realizations of the weekend:
"It is never too late to be the person you were always meant to become."
Why wait another day? We are given so very few, and they are truly precious. I'm getting off the treadmill now.
Will you?
Why settle for an affair when you could be married?
Here's to living each day to the fullest.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Guess What?
...I got invited to teach a creative writing summer camp!
Yep... it's not official yet, but I was contacted by the directors of the Eastern Shore Writing Project, the amazing sponsors of the best profesional development ever, the ESWP summer institute, which I had a blast completing last year... and they both want me to be the instructor for the Young Writers program at Wor-Wic this summer!
I still have to interview with Wor-Wic... but just being asked to do this is a huge compliment.
I am very excited to share my love of creative writing with talented students. :)
Yay me!
And in other ESWP news... the Winter Writing Retreat is this weekend. Totally stoked for a weekend of writing and relaxing. Rumor has it... there's going to be karaoke.
Look out, Ocean City!
PS--Snowmageddon, I hear you're coming for us again. I SUPPOSE I can handle a day or two off work this week, if you're gonna twist my arm and all... but that's it! ONE or TWO days ONLY! I've got mid-terms to give, and these kids need to know what's on their exam! Plus, if you even THINK about interfering with the retreat...
I'm calling Delaware quits and going to Mexico. Don't think I won't do it, either.
Yep... it's not official yet, but I was contacted by the directors of the Eastern Shore Writing Project, the amazing sponsors of the best profesional development ever, the ESWP summer institute, which I had a blast completing last year... and they both want me to be the instructor for the Young Writers program at Wor-Wic this summer!
I still have to interview with Wor-Wic... but just being asked to do this is a huge compliment.
I am very excited to share my love of creative writing with talented students. :)
Yay me!
And in other ESWP news... the Winter Writing Retreat is this weekend. Totally stoked for a weekend of writing and relaxing. Rumor has it... there's going to be karaoke.
Look out, Ocean City!
PS--Snowmageddon, I hear you're coming for us again. I SUPPOSE I can handle a day or two off work this week, if you're gonna twist my arm and all... but that's it! ONE or TWO days ONLY! I've got mid-terms to give, and these kids need to know what's on their exam! Plus, if you even THINK about interfering with the retreat...
I'm calling Delaware quits and going to Mexico. Don't think I won't do it, either.
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