Student

Student

I’ve just begun my second semester at Kwantlen Polytechnic University. In the fall I took a Creative Writing class and fell madly in love with the notion of myself as a student, even as a woman in my mid-forties. I proved that I could succeed, I learned so much from my professor, and I gradually became aware of my weakest areas as a writer (story structure, stakes and imagery).

Now I’m enrolled in two courses on Mondays. In the morning I’m doing a third year course in YA Fiction with the same prof from the fall term and in the afternoon I’m in a first year English requirement class every student must take.

When I get home at 4:15 on Mondays my brain is a lumpy oatmeal-like mush but my soul is fulfilled and accomplished. I can literally feel myself becoming a better writer. My skills are sharpening up and my critical thinking abilities are waking up from hibernation.

We must all challenge ourselves. If you are terrified of something, whether it’s making a fool out of yourself, public speaking, traveling to a developing country (not a shithole one, though, as any sane person knows there is no such thing because all countries have redeeming qualities), taking a class or confronting someone when they are being offensive, by all means: DO IT. The longer you wait, the more power it has over you.

A long time ago I heard my beloved Rob Bell suggest that we write the word “student” on an index card and carry it around in our pocket to remind us that we are always learning. None of us ever have life figured out. I loved this idea and carried this card around for months.

Now I am actually a student. I’m working part-time as a background performer in Vancouver’s vibrant film and TV industry and it’s fun, educational and endlessly fascinating. It also pays for my classes and textbooks. This makes me feel both proud and satisfied, like I’ve given the best of myself to my kids, my husband and my community for the last fifteen years but now, hot damn, I am also building into my own career and education. And I love it.

We always have more to learn. Increased ways to grow and fears to face head-on. My anxiety over plane travel and possible turbulence has been aided by flying weekly last winter and this one for speaking engagements at teachers’ conferences in other provinces. Thinking about what scares us does not help us to overcome. We need to actually do it in order to break its hold on us.

Every one of us is a student of life. The key is to remain open-minded with a soft heart so we can adapt to the unique challenges we face. We can’t plan for every outcome, but we can build up our confidence and resilience by trying new things and succeeding.

Contentment

Contentment

I turn 45 this week. I’ve been thinking back to when I turned 37 and my life began to change dramatically. It’s hard to believe that 8 years have gone by since then. I read once that it takes 7 years for a new city to really feel like home and I believe that to be true. I’ve been living now as my authentic self for the last 7 years and I’m finally beginning to settle in and enjoy myself.

The biggest thing I did at the age of 37 was create boundaries. I had existed my whole life without any clear idea of where I ended and someone else began so boundaries were brand new and terrifying to me. Thankfully, my amazing counsellor Joanne explained what healthy boundaries looked like and she helped me find the courage to set them and hold them when they were tested. This process helped me take control of my time and safeguard my emotions. It saved me.

I also began to experiment with saying no when I didn’t want to do something. A few months ago I looked back over my calendars since 2011 and I felt weary just paging through the many obligations, committees, coffee dates, church activities, etc. that I used to do. Learning to say no and not stress over the other person’s reaction to my decision has liberated me and I’m incredibly grateful.

Perhaps this also falls under boundaries and saying no, but over the last few years I’ve made hard choices about the people I allow into my life and these decisions have made me so happy. At first, it was painful and isolating, but over time I could feel my soul healing as I recovered from the intense people pleasing that had been my key mode in the early years of my life. Choosing not to have negative, draining, selfish people in my inner circles has made room for so many positive, kind, generous ones to take their place and my health is better every single day as a result.

Turning 45 marks a significant point in my life. I’m working steadily in the Vancouver area as a background performer in film and TV and I feel so alive as I walk out my biggest dreams. I worked on a big show a few times this month and while waiting for the bathroom at the studio I stood outside of the writers’ room, listening to them have a story meeting. My spine tingled with the excitement of it, and the thought “one day I’ll be in a writers’ room” didn’t feel far-fetched in the slightest. Instead it seemed inevitable.

I just finished my first semester of my university creative writing class. I know it’s not polite to brag, but finishing with a mark in the mid-nineties was reassuring after so many years away from school. Right now I have the feeling that I’m in the sweet spot when it comes to decades of pursuing writing, speaking and film work. It’s coming together, in a satisfying and unforced manner, and I am so content.

It’s only recently that I’ve actually decided to enjoy my life as it is, not how I once dreamed it could be. Chasing an elusive someday stokes up discontent and sadness. Staying present to notice what’s working well and paying attention to those you love who also love you in return is worth its weight in gold.

Here’s to marking the middle of my forties with gratitude, warmth and light. Our world needs us to be operating at our healthiest and happiest capacity. As a friend posted the other day, “Water only what waters you. Let go of anything that leaves you feeling thirsty.”

A New Love for Poetry

A New Love for Poetry

I’m absolutely loving my university Creative Writing class this fall. My professor has taught me so much that I didn’t know or had never considered about writing.

Every writer has bad habits and weak areas. I knew this going in. Anyone who has had a professional editor look over their work will be familiar with the red marks on a page or Google Doc, highlighting for all the world to see the words you tend to overuse and abuse (mine are “all” – used in the previous sentence for shit’s sake – and “too” and for some unknown reason I use “tiny” way too often…sigh).

But in this class my mind has been blown wide open by imagery. I’ve knowingly underused imagery in my work, justifying it by telling anyone who would listen that “I’m interested in the inner landscape so I don’t waste time describing setting and characters.”

Such horseshit. Now I see what I’ve been missing out on. It’s like a giant puzzle piece, sliding into place, informing every area of my writing by upping my game when it comes to descriptive imagery. Particularly in poetry and the art of the short story.

From grade five through second-year university, I attended small evangelical Christian schools. It’s possible I’ve simply blocked it out, but I honestly don’t recall learning anything about poetry in my school years. I grew up with a certain disdain for poems, believing them to be inscrutable and pretentious.

And now I’m studying poetry at the ripe old age of forty-four, twenty-five years after I left university, and I’m blown away by how much I love it and how naturally it comes to me (now that I’ve been challenged to use concrete words and images instead of the abstract ones I’ve been fond of for so long). It’s like a whole new world and I wonder why I waited so long to dive in.

I’m reading poetry, and I’m writing poetry, and I’m knee-deep in the joys of juxtaposition, wordplay and double meanings. It’s fun. And with every word I write, and each new contest I enter, I’m feeling stronger and more confident as a writer.

This is where the good stuff is. It’s in the learning curve, the challenge, the messiest parts of our lives. Approaching writing as if I’m new to it has given me a fresh interpretation of the craft and the process. I feel like I’m in Oz, peeking behind the curtain, and marvelling at the nuts and bolts of building stories, worlds and emotions on the page.

I can’t wait to see what’s next. Bring it on.

Moving Things Forward

Moving Things Forward

Do you ever get overwhelmed at the enormity of tasks in front of you? Try this strategy: Moving Things Forward (or MTF for short if you enjoy acronyms, which I do).

Every day, try to think in terms of moving a project forward. Do one or two things that will help you inch closer to your goal. Over a month and then a year, these little steps add up to large progress.

In my case, when I go a day without writing, I usually go to bed feeling ticked off that I didn’t get any words down. Even when I do sit down to write for an hour or two, often I feel irritated (at best, morose at worst) that I didn’t accomplish more.

But when I sit down at the end of my day and look at all of the areas where I did move things forward, even in small ways, it can add up to much more than I realize. I’ve been using my journal for this purpose, in a type of success tally, and it’s really increased my ability to feel as if I’m accomplishing something on a daily basis.

How about you? What are all the ways you are Moving Things Forward in your life? Break it down into specific categories (family, career, friends, hobbies, leisure, vacation, etc.). Booked a babysitter? A haircut for next week? Sent a friend a text to say you are thinking about her? Browsed vacation possibilities for this summer? Researched something that will help you in your work? Watched an episode of Mindhunter or Stranger Things? (Awesome, you are moving toward finishing these excellent series).

Every one of these are examples of moving things forward. I’m working on thinking smaller with my day-to-day existence. The small things, done well, do eventually add up to become the big things. This also gives me significant breathing room to enjoy my life as its unfolding. Progress, each day, in specific areas will eventually get you where you most want to go.

I’d love to hear a story of how Moving Things Forward is working for you!

Your Little Corner

Your Little Corner

I honestly don’t know what to say anymore. People are being slaughtered weekly with assault rifles in our neighbour to the south and those in power have zero interest in doing anything about it. The president lies, every single day, and on top of that makes racist, misogynist and offensive comments and faces no real consequences for any of it.

My rage is on a slow boil and has been for a long time, but it’s wearing me down. I feel bruised, deep in my soul, and hopeless that nothing is changing. This is not the world I want my kids to grow up in, but I can’t fix these massive problems.

What I can do is focus on my own little corner. You have one too. The people and the pets and the hobbies that you love reside here. You can look after them (and this includes your own beautiful self). You can grow a flower or bake a delicious cake. You can watch a movie or a TV show that helps you escape the horror of the world or gently ushers you toward a fresh outlook. You can read a book that has the power to transform you.

I’ve been making my way through Hillary Clinton’s book, What Happened, and as excellent as it is, I had to stop reading for a bit as what could have been was simply too raw. (Side note: If you don’t like HRC, you are welcome to your opinion, but I don’t want to hear it right now. She is being unfairly bashed online constantly and I’m not allowing that nonsense on my watch).

For a break from real-world pain, I picked up a People magazine borrowed from the library and put it down immediately after reading the headline “Taking Down a Hollywood Predator” with Harvey Weinstein’s mug front and centre. No thanks. More suffering in the form of patriarchy gone wild with power and abuse. I needed something else to inch back toward hope in humankind.

Thankfully, the brilliant Celeste Ng’s newest novel, Little Fires Everywhere, was in for me on the hold shelf. I raced to the library to get it, having just finished her debut, Everything I Never Told You, which broke my heart but in such a healing and redemptive manner. If you haven’t read Celeste Ng, please put these two books at the top of your TBR pile. Her talent is awe-inspiring.

This brings me back to my little corner. I’m finding it really, really, really challenging to write blogs right now. Everything I want to say is too raw and unfiltered – too brutal for human consumption. I start to type it and I can’t get it to sound right. So I backpedal and feel like I’ve failed. I know I’m not adding anything meaningful to the conversation. But maybe that’s okay. Perhaps what I’m meant to do in this god-awful time is just to say, “I’m here too. I’m hurting, just like you. Let’s look after ourselves and our loved ones.”

Anne Lamott tells a story in one of her books about planting a certain type of tulip that only blooms for a few days each spring. She was complaining to a friend about it, saying, “What is the point of all that work to only enjoy the flowers for 4 or 5 days?” Her friend’s answer? “The point is those 4 or 5 days.”

I’d like that lesson to patch up my hope so I can keep going. It doesn’t seem like enough. But when it’s all we have, perhaps that will have to do. I’m going to tend to my little corner while you tend to yours. Maybe, just maybe, it will temporarily brighten up the world and help us find the solutions we need for harmony, peace and optimism again.