In Pursuit of Emptiness

June 3, 2016

Miriam Toews is one of my favorite authors. She generally writes fiction about Mennonites, small towns and suicide. Her latest book was about sisters who are Mennonites. One is a suicidal musical genius and one is a writer. In real life, Toews grew up Mennonite and her sister and father committed suicide. So, while these books are fiction, they are clearly writing about things she has experienced. I have to point out that while her writing sounds utterly dark and depressing, she has a way of thoughtfully making light of the human experience. Her voice is understated and she infuses a bizarre (yet, utterly realistic) sense of humour into her writing. I read an interview by her after her recent book was published and she was asked how she felt after writing this book that touched on her biggest heartbreak. She said that she felt 'empty'. I LOVE THIS. I actually crave this.

Get to Know Loneliness

May 18, 2016

Writing is lonely. It is quiet, except for maybe the sound of keys clicking away or the soft scratch of a pencil on paper. But, when a writer realizes that they need to write, it doesn't come from a place of silence. We write because our mind is so loud and unruly that something has got to give. If there was any other way to sustain ourselves, we would probably choose it. Writing is a last resort.

To write, we need to be alone. We need to know how to move beyond the distraction of the chatty women in the coffee shop, the unmade bed in our room, and write. We need to be so interested in this aloneness that we build our lives around it. What is so scary about being not-so-close to people? I don’t mean we have to get rid of all people, things, and outings in our life. It is also not to say that we don’t want to be heard, eventually. We all want to be heard. We just have to say something first.

Be Generous With Your Attention

May 11, 2016

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” ~ Simone Weil

I remember putting my two-year-old son in his car seat for what was probably the 500th time.

While I was thinking something like, “God damn, I can’t wait until he can buckle his own seat belt,” he put his slight hand on my arm and whispered “Whasat?”

I glanced all around and looked back at his face, which was bright with wonder. It took me a few moments to realize that he was talking about the chirping sound of the cicadas ringing on that hot summer day, a sound that I didn’t hear until he pointed it out. The sound was lovely, it was right there, and I didn’t even notice.

Love & Rain

May 4, 2016

You walk around the corner looking poised, tall, and calm. You’re not. Most people you can fool. Some you can’t and try to stay far away from. Usually it’s because you love them. Now, it is a man with dapper shoes, a messy house,and quotes onthe bathroom mirror, who waves at you in a way that you mistake for wanting a high five but instead he gives you a hug. He wasn’t what you asked for. Or maybe he was. Yes, you asked for him; one of the people in the world whom you can’t fool. You flounder. He puts his hand on you to be still. He hears but doesn’t listen to any of it because you don’t make sense. He smiles and gives you a kiss. You’re quiet.

More Than One Way to Sing the Alphabet

April 27, 2016

The Peace of Hopelessness

April 9, 2016

The first time I read Pema Chodron’s book, When things Fall Apart, my father was ill. Overnight, Dad had lost decades of his long-term and short-term memory because of an inflammation in the brain that couldn’t be explained.

He still remembered the people he loved, just not where we all lived. He could still dress himself, but he didn’t recognize the clothes in his closet. He still had a sense of humor, it was just that he would make the same jokes over and over and over.

He was determined to “get this memory thing sorted out,” despite the less optimistic prognosis.

Most of Writing is Falling in Love

April 5, 2016

Most of writing is falling in love. That big wide opening of maybe just three words that coax you into following anywhere in the entire universe.Trust. You will be carried and no doubt, you will be dropped. Don't care. Fall in love again. Even if it’s just for a word or a sentence or if we’re lucky, a short story and if we’re crazy maybe something bigger. Don’t worry about getting married, get in love. Blahness will come out of your writing if you’re not in wild abandonment. Be ruthless. Love the story and be head over heels for words. Write them how they want to be written, not how they’ve been written before.

Reading: Where Grace Meets Narcissism

March 16, 2016

Having a good book in my hands is like putting ground under my feet. Perhaps to some, reading is seen as a way of escaping or of disengaging with the world but for me, it is a way of engaging as completely as I possibly can. Reading is an act of trust, artistic expression, and connecting to a world entirely outside our own perspective.

A story can collapse time and space and connect us to people, societies and experiences that we have never known. In an article titled "Don't Turn Away from the Art of Life", Arnold Weinstein says "We enter the bookstore, see the many volumes arrayed there, and think: so much to read, so little time. But books do not take time; they give time, they expand our resources of both heart and mind. It may sound paradoxical, but they are, in the last analysis, scientific, for they trace the far-flung route by which we come to understand our world and ourselves. They take our measure."

Show Up

February 25, 2016

Show up. Whatever you do. Show up. You don’t have to be out of your pajamas or even out of your bed. Put your pen to paper or your fingers to the keys and start. Open to something beyond your cotton flannel striped sheets that you should have changed weeks ago and write. It’s there. It’s always there. Somewhere along the lines, we were told that daydreaming is a waste of time, a liability, a hazard but we still can’t seem to shut it up. Daydream on paper. Dream big on big white sheets of nothing. Don’t feel guilty about spending your whole day whittling away at a story, if we’re lucky enough to ever have a full day to write. There is nothing more important. Except people. Don’t forget people. Stories aren’t created in a vacuum.