Tag: help!

writing

writing through the wall (or writing 101)

abby mumford

i don’t know why or where or how i was under the impression that you only had to break through writer’s block just one time and that once you were through, it was all SUNSHINE and HAPPY THINGS and TRA LA LA LA LA all the time from your fingertips.

not so. oh, not so. you have to break through that wall EVERY. SINGLE. TIME you sit down to write.

EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

this post by jessica corra explains it all so much more eloquently, especially the part where she relates it to sports, specifically running. just because i hit 3 miles yesterday doesn’t mean that running today is going to be easy. i mean, it might. the weather might be cool and crisp and my legs might be fresh, but then again, the humidity might be solid and my legs could feel like that as well. who knows? all i know is that i have to push through and keep running because once i’m done that’s when i feel all ENDORPHINEY and SHINY and TRA LA LA LA LA LA and GOOD.

i want to get to that place from writing and the only way to do so is to finish. and to finish, i have to start. each day (or, you know, most days). word by word and sentence by sentence, the pages will fill up. sure, the rough draft is going to be icky and horrid and unfit for all human eyes (save my own), but that’s when the EDITING and POLISHING and SERIOUS WRITERLYISHNESS comes in.

getting that first draft down and out has been difficult for me. i’m not going to go all psychotherapist on myself to figure out why, but instead be grateful that i’ve stumbled into one bria quinlan who’s the funniest type of taskmaster. she’s getting me to put my butt in the chair (at the thinking cup and/or at california pizza kitchen and/or at my own house) and i’m writing. i really am. (look ma, no hands!) (wait…)

the other thing this fast drafting process has shown me is that i’m so busy working i don’t have time to sit and think, “hey, this is really bad and these characters all sound the same and the plot? what plot? and UGH, i stink and what’s dangling participle again?”

i’m just there in the moment writing.

like with running, i don’t have time to think, “hey, my arms aren’t swinging enough, my foot falls on its heel, do i look weird?” because i’m watching for traffic and deciding to go left or right and pushing forward and feeling how my lungs are doing.

i’m just there in the moment running.

it would appear that by just doing [said task], i’m able to push through that wall, which, for me, is composed (brick by brick) of self-doubt. your wall might be made of a different foundation, but the point is not what it’s made of. the point is not to give yourself time to think or worry or ponder, but to get around, over, under, through, past it any way you can.

and if you have trouble getting going, i think it’s okay to start by writing ON the wall.

feelings

hitting the GO button

abby mumford

as soon as i hit pause on my writing life, everything else seemed to hit GO FAST NOW BUSY IMMEDIATELY CRAZY, but i survived and not so surprisingly learned something along the way:

seeing is believing.

i know, i know, the whole santa clause and easter bunny and tooth fairy things, but it’s a tough thing, these early stages of a writing career, when the stuff you’re producing isn’t fit for public consumption and so the only appropriate thing to put out there is this blog and the main people who are your audience are related to you and they assume you know they care. and i do know, but it never hurts to have things like that reiterated.

like the time i was at the dinner table in my parents’ house and my dad asked my mom if she’d somehow unsubscribed to my blog because he hadn’t gotten any emails regarding new posts lately. (thanks for reading, dad!) and then my mom and sister E laughed and said, well did you read the last one? (thanks for reading mom and sister E!)

or the time when i opened my mailbox to find a handwritten letter from sister E that was so full of encouragement, i almost got punched in the face by the pom poms. (thanks for the syrupy love, sister E!)

or when sister J basically chased baby mac down the hall because she was chanting “abby abby abby” and i hadn’t yet heard my name from her lips. if that’s not some great cheerleading, i don’t know what is. (thanks for the extra effort, J! and for making me one of your words, baby mac!)

or that afternoon when my friend L attempted to teach me how to play cribbage and i quickly realized that when one can barely add to 15 (especially under pressure), one better work harder at her writing because simple math is not what’s going to bring the paycheck home. (thanks for your patience, L! i’m gunning for you  now, dad and grandpa. you may have kept all the mathematical genes for yourselves, but with practice, i too can add to 15 and 31. “that’s all there is and there is no more.”)

or when brother G sent me an email with “guess who put on his shoes” as the subject line and this as the body of the text:

which reminded me that no matter what age or what subject, we are all making mistakes, BUT it’s all in the name of learning. (thanks for the lesson, G (and newphew L), but more importantly, thanks for the laugh.)

or the occasion when my friend N, who never comments online, made a comment to me offline about how he still checked my blog throughout august just in case i posted something… (thanks for being such a consistent, if mute, reader. :)

or the time when all my loyal commenters wrote me words of encouragement, left me bits of advice, warned me not to keep my distance and basically left me a most needed trail of breadcrumbs. it made it much easier to find my way back to the interwebs. (thanks adriana, jeannie, karla, kelly, kristen, and linda for understanding!)

or the moment when my grandfather emailed me this poem and wished me a prosperous time in the land of pause. (thanks for reading and commenting and dispensing wisdom and thinking of me, grandpa!)

‘I learned her name was Proverb’ by Denise Levertov

And the secret names
of all we meet who lead us deeper
into our labyrinth
of valleys and mountains, twisting valleys
and steeper mountains-
their hidden names are always,
like Proverb, promises:
Rune, Omen, Fable, Parable,
those we meet for only
one crucial moment, gaze to gaze,
or for years know and don’t recognize

but of whom later a word
sings back to us
as if from high among leaves
still near but beyond sight

drawing us from tree to tree
towards the time and the unknown place
where we shall know
what it is to arrive.

i can’t say i’m 100% sure i’ve arrived or that i know what it entails, but i do know that in terms of blogging, I’M BACK AND I MISSED YOU ALL.

feelings

*pressing pause*

abby mumford

i read THIS POST by nova ren suma and nodded. i nodded so hard i practically gave myself whiplash. and not to be all morose, but lately, i’ve been feeling confused and frustrated in the area of my writing. i’ve been questioning my intentions, my abilities, and my future. i’m not sure if i’m overextended or underextended. i’m not sure if anyone is listening or if anyone should be. i’m not sure if this is a normal stage of development. i’m not sure if i need a routine or if i need craziness. i’m not sure if i need noise or if i need silence. i’m not sure if i should be hearing voices or creating them. i’m not sure if i need a bigger imagination. all i know is that the words feel stilted and rough and plain and honestly, i’d rather go to the dentist and have him pull my teeth than sit here and pull words out of my brain.

i’m not sure if i need a break from the blog, from the interwebs, from reading, from writing, from life, or from my imagination, but i need to do something to remove this blockade because the dream to do this still lingers:

“I’m not asking you to describe the rain falling the night the archangel arrived; I’m demanding that you get me wet. Make up your mind, Mr. Writer, and for once in your life be the flower that smells rather than the chronicler of the aroma. There’s not much pleasure in writing what you live. The challenge is to live what you write.” – Eduardo Galeano

basically right now, i don’t know which end is up and you all know how horrible i am at directions, so i’m not sure if i’ll ever find the right way. perhaps the only thing to do is to press pause and hope that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

(see what i mean? cliches are the best i can come up with. and i’m starting sentences with “and” and ending them with prepositions! eek! *steps closer to month long pause button*)

*finger is poised above pause button while she notes to her dear readers that she will have one blog in august. on august 18th to be exact, as that’s the date BOOK HUNGRY discusses MAKING WAVES by tawna fenske. it’s a book (and a blog post) not to be missed.*

*presses*

sports

didn’t see that one coming

abby mumford

one of my great loves is sports. playing or watching or coaching. there’s a certain poetry of movement out on the field as the players push their bodies beyond expectation. there’s also a camaraderie of teammates which extends well beyond the turf or grass or dirt or whatever type of field you might be on.

i happen to be fortunate enough to come from a naturally athletic family + i live in a hotbed of champion level professional sports teams (go sox! go pats! go bruins! go celtics!), so this love continues to flourish.

but, if you give out your heart, there’s always the chance it’ll break. unintentionally in this case, but fittingly so as my story starts when the guy in the yankees hat steps up to bat. i pitch the ball right over the plate. he swings and my foot explodes with pain as the ball dribbles a few feet to my left. i happen to have excellent reflexes so the fact i couldn’t get out of the way is a testament to how hard/fast that ball was hit.

two days later, i’m still sporting a golf ball sized lump on my foot/ankle, my ankle is tender causing me to hobble more than glide across the floor like i usually do (ha, right) and, i’m very limited in choice of footwear because most everything wraps right over the bump. (thank goodness for flip flops and a casual dress work environment!) i have to miss both a softball and a lacrosse game, but even in situations where one’s heart is hurt, there is a lesson to be learned.

watch out for yankees fans.

just kidding, sort of, but seriously, i’m grateful it’s nothing truly major because in the last two weeks alone, i’ve seen players go down with pulled hamstrings, torn tendons in the knee, and a ruptured achilles tendon. i can still walk and in case of emergency, run. i’ll just have to hope my absence from any athletic event this week won’t cause my heart too much more trauma, and, in the meantime, focus on the fact that some soreness now reminds me to be grateful for every other day i walk without pain.