Tag: help!

feelings

pressure points

abby mumford

i arrived early at my destination, my friend A’s poetry reading. there was a creative vibe mixed in with a certain nervousness as the readers prepared to share their words, thoughts, feelings, souls with the audience. i was the only one in rows of chairs. yes, i was that early.

i knew i’d have to wait. it was either that or try and find this classroom by myself. i’d rather wait, thank you. i knew i wouldn’t have much time, but i knew i would be alone and would have to occupy myself until the others arrived. and so with this iota of time, i pulled out my WIP and sipped from the creative juices swirling in the room.

for those 25 minutes, i said hello to my main character. i unpacked her emotions. i peeked into her motivations. i listened to her speak. i elaborated upon a scene that has the potential to be huge, but is currently only a page long. in short, i was productive.

why was it that me, who doesn’t work well under pressure, was able to come to a boil (creatively speaking) in 60 seconds flat? and continue at a roiling boil for 25 straight minutes? how do i do that day in and day out? how do YOU do that day in and day out?

i suppose it’s like this girl said (i apologize for the no linkage. i can’t remember where i came across the author interview and so what i’m about to write is not verbatim), “it’s not that i had to find free time to write, i just had to RESOLVE myself to write when i was free.”

noted.

p.s. to the poet whose words i listened to last night, you were stunning. as usual. congrats!

feelings

vantage point

abby mumford

i am a dandelion amongst sunflowers. read: i’m short. my family is tall.

i am a word amongst numbers. read: i’m english minded. my family is scientifically and mathematically oriented.

what is the point of these opposites? no, it’s not opposites day. no, it’s not a writing exercise. my point is that i’m used to having a different take on things than those that surround me. but what i didn’t expect is that i could have an opposite viewpoint as from myself. how’s that, you ask? well, you see, i used to be a glass half-empty kind of gal, but now i’m a full-fledged glass half-full woman.

oh yeah, hear me roar.

it’s been a work in progress for sure. it began with a podcast, an article, a conversation, a book, a realization, a DECISION. slowly, i began to notice the sunshine filtering through the trees rather than the shadows it left behind. it has taken a lot of time and required daily effort. i’ve suffered delays and setbacks, but now? it’s true, i’ve changed. (don’t fret, friends. i still laugh at the word balls. and poop. and i’ll beat you to the “that’s what she said” punch any day.)

the act of switching how you think is a gradual process and one that still ebbs and flows to this day, so as it was, i didn’t notice how complete the change was until i came across this post. granted, i came across it because i was stalking myself and my blog stats and i clicked on the post to re-read it because i couldn’t recall off the top of my head what it was about. i read the words, but all i could hear was WHINE WHINE WHINE COMPLAIN WHINE.

when i sat down to write that post, it was to comment on the loneliness and frustration of loving someone in a different time zone. sure my intentions were borne of love, but the tone? oh GAH, the tone was the opposite of warm and fuzzy. in fact, it wasn’t any better than a hypothetical 2 year old in the middle of a meltdown. and no one wants to talk to or reason with a said 2 year old.

the point of that post (and i still feel this way today) was to explain that it’s tough to cultivate long distance relationships (friendships, lovers, family) and that i was homesick for certain west coast friends. BUT if i was to write that post today, i’d focus on how lucky i am to have friends who are brave enough to move across the country. i can learn from their bravery. i’m fortunate to have friends who live in different and amazing cities because it gives me a reason to travel. i’m delighted to have a friendship that means enough to me to miss it when it’s not around. i’m blessed to have friends on the west coast because i can call them at midnight on friday and they won’t be too tired to talk. i’m grateful that cell phones and voice mail have evolved because it means i can leave a silly message for my friend and not have to worry about it being overheard. i’m happy to have friends that listen to my messages and call me back and call again if our schedules don’t overlap.

because the truth is, i love receiving updates whether they’re over voicemail, on email, over bottles of wine, via text message, in person, over coffee, on the phone, through hallmark cards, or over beers. it doesn’t matter if the update is 2 hours or 15 paragraphs or 5 minutes or 140 characters. it’s all about the connection. i choose to connect with you. and your life. and i choose to do so wearing a smile.

reading that random blip of a post from 2006 reminds me that while my beliefs and interests haven’t changed, my take on life has and you know what? i like it here. i think i’ll stay. i’ve got a glass that’s half full, won’t you join me while i swirl it around in my glass and enjoy it?

sports

boston wears spring well. i don’t.

abby mumford

things i learned on a very spring-like sunday afternoon.

i like to make lists. of things i need to do. of drills to run before the game. of the lineup. of things the team needs to work on. of who needs a new uniform.

the learning curve is very steep and we’re at the bottom. this is a very new program, our first year for the U13s and we’ve only had 3 practices. we are playing against a team that has been in existence for 10 years. they are going to be better. it’s a complex game, but we are going to keep practicing and keep educating ourselves. watch your backs because here we come.

some kids do remember me. even one who wasn’t on my team. yes, my first game of the 2010 season and i’m playing against the program where i coached for the past 5 years. yes, it was a bit nerve-wracking.  but the kids remembered me. it feels good to know that maybe i am making a difference. maybe they are listening to me.

your car can get towed on a sunday. even though it’s sunday. and i’ve parked there before. and other cars were parked there. and we checked with a police officer who said they weren’t ticketing or towing. and people will comment “oh yes, i saw your car getting towed 10 minutes ago.” and it doesn’t matter that you just spent 3 hours volunteering your time and 20 more minutes cleaning up the field. no good deed goes unpunished. and the guys at the towing company will not be friendly or contain a smidge of nice in between their beards and gravely voices. and you will have to pay a fee for daily storage even though your car has been there for less than an hour. and you will have to pay for the gas the tow truck guzzled as it toted your car from parking lot to impound lot. and you have to pay in cash. even if your purse is in the truck of the car that’s been towed away.

it’s not the score that counts. sure, we’d all like to win but we got one goal in there. it wasn’t a complete shutout. the ref complimented the girls on a clean, well played game. the parents were cheering. the girls had fun. plain and simple. i couldn’t ask for more.

i need about forty pairs of hands. to fix goggles. and sticks. and hair. and uniforms. and about forty eyeballs. to watch the game. the girls on the sideline. the refs. the goalie. and a voice that’s forty times louder. to be heard over the ref’s whistle. over the length of the field. over the roar of the game on the next field. over the parents yelling instructions to their children.

it’s about more than just lacrosse. it’s about the water fight at the end of the game. and the players testing me to see if they can throw water at me. it’s about them recognizing i am serious when i say no. it’s about them giggling anyways. it’s about trying out attack and defense to see which they like better. it’s about the smallest girl on the team asking to play goalie. it’s about high fives. it’s about the quietest girl being the most competitive and shocking me silly. it’s about them asking for help and me doing my best to provide it. it’s about the parents asking me questions to further their understanding the game. it’s about getting outside on a gorgeous afternoon. it’s about making the best use of my free time. it’s about sharing my love of lacrosse with people who feel the same way. it’s about stepping out of my comfort zone so i can keep growing, keep improving. it’s about these girls who say the craziest things and make fun of me and have so much energy. it’s infectious. it refreshes my own supply.

and, pray tell, how was YOUR weekend?

general

beginnings, middles, endings (and more beginnings)

abby mumford

i was reading through some of my very first blog posts and MAN OH MAN is that embarrassing. for many reasons:

(1) i was 22, had just moved up to boston, and had no clue about life.

(2) or writing.

(3) or editing.

(4) or censorship.

(5) or revision.

it was difficult to read through the posts and not take a metaphorical red pen to them. (i don’t think my work IT department would like it very much if they saw my screen was covered in red pen). i was reading the posts with fresh eyes and the distance that 7 years can bring. i could see so many ways to improve upon each post. how to make it smoother. smarter. sillier. sassier. more sane. but at the same time, for the purpose of preservation, i’m not going to edit those posts because it shows the progression of me as a writer, as a new Bostonian, as a newly independent adult. (unless it’s to remove certain incriminating information. people actually read this blog now, whereas when i started it, i had a limited readership of 5. ok, so now i only have a readership of 6, but sometimes that 6th person is my mom. and there are some stories that need to be slanted so as not to cause her any grief or worry or shock or gray hair).

in terms of other beginnings, i have also gone back to the start of my manuscript. i have been able to take a literal red pen to the extraneous adjectives and redudant adverbs. i’ve combined sentences and removed whole paragraphs without breaking a sweat. (me, not sweating. that’s saying something!) i’ve fixed dialogue and clarified voices. i’ve hemmed and hawed. i’ve tightened action and expanded emotion. i’ve reved up the verb usage and quieted down the questions. in short, i’ve made it readable. and laughable. and relatable. and charming.  (i hope).

i hadn’t gone back to re-read the beginning of my work since i turned in my thesis in january 2008. i haven’t gone back because i have been researching and reading and learning and talking and dabbling and writing and deleting and procrastinating and writing and deleting and reading and scratching out and writing a little more. i’ve been focused on furthering the story and fleshing out the characters and finally reaching the end. i have done that. now it’s time to go back to the future. but yeah, since i’m lazy, i decided it was easier just to go back to the beginning of my novel. so that’s what i did/am doing.

you see though, i’m a slow learner. how am i supposed to write a novel in anything under than (an x amount of) years? how do i create that distance, that objectivity, that cold calculation that allows me to slice and dice my manuscript into tip top shape? what tricks do you have in your editorial bag of magic that you can share with me? how can i get from point A (blank word document) to point B (full, query ready manuscript) in a straight line? i’m getting dizzy from all the back and forth and up and down and left and right and crisscrossing (who makes you want to JUMP JUMP). and i could use your help.

or you could just tell me a joke. that’s always appreciated.

general

finding the right [words]

abby mumford

“If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word.” -@MargaretAtwood

this quote hits the nail on the head. wait, i’m not a handyman, that analogy’s not right.

this quote  is genius. wait, i’m not a member of mensa, how do i know what defines genius?

this quote rocks. wait, i’m completely tone deaf.

this quote is amazing. wait, i am no good at mazes and puzzles and suduku and logic.

this quote blows my mind.

SEE, this is why i often have a hard time getting myself to write. i am waiting for perfection to strike and that rarely if ever (ok, NEVER) happens with the first draft. i am waiting for perfection. that’s not normal. well, it might be normal for someone who isn’t published. and it might be considered normal for someone who is an amateur writer. and it’s definitely normal for someone who has some self-doubt swirling around in the head.

the act of waiting. is waiting even an action? it’s more like the opposite of action. and again, i am reminded of that scene in “the holiday” where kate winslet’s character realizes that she needs to be the leading lady of her own life. it seems i should follow her advice. it’s not proper to wait for anything and in fact, it’s something i despise doing. so why aren’t i getting down and dirty with words? why aren’t i down on the ground shoveling through missed metaphors and too long descriptions and poorly paced scenes? why aren’t i tumbling through paragraphs and sentences and phrases and fragments? it all sounds a lot more enticing than waiting.

the truth is, i have to write every day. and by “have to” i mean “should.” i should write every day to learn the cadences of words, the rhythm of storytelling, the rhyme of heartbreak, the sound of love, the pace of laughter. i’m not going to learn them by being afraid to write, by thinking it’s not good enough, by wondering who is reading. i am writing for me. to get better. to learn. to teach. to enjoy. to escape. to fail. to succeed.  the age old adage of “practice makes perfect” is true. i know it to be so from an athletic standpoint. and i’m learning it from a creative standpoint.

but for a small taste of something [i consider] extremely close to perfection, read this. this is the definition of an amazing writer because i have little in common with her (i didn’t go to an ivy league school, i wasn’t a lawyer, i’m not married, i don’t have kids), but her words drip with honesty and reality and humor and truths so raw, i have to check to make sure they’re still wearing clothes. in short,  i can relate to her. and her most recent post is one that i (hopefully) will have to deal with sooner rather than later. because in a life full of random, mismatched, silly stories, this is one story that i want to add to my collection. this is one story that i want to tell over and over until people can recite the story with me. and with the newfangled ways people have of meeting one another, it’s probably going to be a relatively crazy story and so i’d better get used to the idea of an untraditional beginning. (though i’d be perfectly happy to have a boring tale to tell).

NOTE TO SELF: see? this is what’s so cool. i started out with a quote about writing and ended up speaking/thinking/pondering about love. when i sit down to write, i never know what is going to happen. i need to embrace that. not be afraid. and just jump. and by jump, i mean sit down and tippity tap on the keyboard or swiggity swipe my pen across the sheet of paper. get ‘er done.