Showing all posts tagged Creative Writing

In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Introducing Ruby Finch Books!

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

It’s my great pleasure to introduce my brand new company, Ruby Finch Books! I wanted to share a little about how this venture came about, and invite you to have a look at my new website and peruse my first newsletter over at Substack (and please sign up to receive it monthly if you are interested in updates on new book launches, classes, creative retreats, cat pics, and other joyful things!).

About halfway through my 2 year graduate degree in Creative Writing, in the summer of 2022, I realised that somewhere along the educational road I’d lost my belief in myself. Writing is a competitive process, in that so many people are talented and accomplished, and I’d been trying to find a literary agent for my contemporary YA novel for about 18 months with no success. I also queried a number of small publishers, who also said no. I had lots of manuscript requests, and kind feedback, and moments of great hope, but at the end of it all, I couldn’t find someone in traditional publishing willing to rep me or publish my book.

I worked with a counsellor for about six months during this period of rock-bottom confidence, and I asked her, “How do I feel successful as a writer?” She answered, “You get to determine for yourself what success looks like, and then you prove your own abilities to yourself.” This was a revelation to me.

As I was thinking my way through this big idea, I had lunch with one of my undergrad writing profs who has mentored me for the last two decades. When I talked with him about my sadness and disillusionment over not finding a traditional publishing contract for my book, he said, “But Julianne, you can publish it yourself.” I remember how my heart starting pounding in my chest, so loud I could hear it in my ears, and the embarrassed feeling of failure I’d been carrying around began to fall from my shoulders.

So often we just need someone else who believes in us to speak up. To remind us that we don’t have to wait forever for approval from some outside source. We are allowed to give it to ourselves. At that moment, I felt like I was standing in the bottom of a well, but when I looked up, I could see daylight. So I started to move toward it.

I wrote in a journal that a friend gave me for my fiftieth birthday in December, pouring all my dreams and ideas for an indie publishing imprint onto its blank pages. I dreamed up a business name, and a plan, and a philosophy for marketing and launching that focused on public libraries and schools. I wrote down names of good friends who were incredibly talented artists, editors, facilitators, sales people, and writers. I created a team of people I adore and want to work with.

Then a miracle happened: I started to love writing again. I wrote my thesis novel last summer in this healthier frame of mind, and I fell in love with the world that was being built on the page. I went back to the themes I longed to explore and why I wanted to write the book in the first place. I felt so grateful to my UBC supervisor who urged me to write the book I longed to write, and not to worry about workshopping it or getting a grade for it. Slowly, I started to understand what my counsellor meant by determining success for myself and then proving my own abilities.

I graduated from UBC in late May, on a gorgeous sunny day. I felt proud of the hard work I put into my MFA, but I think I was even prouder of my Ruby Finch Books business license when it arrived in the mail. I framed it and put it above my desk. It means so much to me to launch this venture. To teach writing classes that also focus on wellness and mental health. To craft book launch events that inspire and create meaning for participants. To share my writing and believe that there’s an audience out there of readers, librarians, and teachers who value some of the same things I do: risk-taking, simplicity, emotional honesty, intuitive courage, and fun.

I’d be honoured for you to come along with me on this new path. Have a look at the website, subscribe to the Substack monthly newsletter, find us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I’d love to build this exciting adventure with you. Reach out, get in touch, ask questions, give me a “hell yeah I’ll read your work.” So often we need someone else who believes in us to speak up. Let’s do this for each other.

Thank you, friends and readers, from the bottom of my heart. I need you, and I’m so grateful for your time, interest, and care.

In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Uncategorized, University, Writing

Fallow

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve just completed my final semester of undergrad. After four years of classes, I’ll graduate in early June with a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing from Kwantlen Polytechnic University. Due to our never-ending super fun pandemic, instead of walking across the stage in a cap and gown as I’d planned, I’ll be mailed a box containing my degree.

I’m 48, and at times I’ve felt ancient next to my twenty-year-old classmates, but overall it’s been an excellent experience to complete the higher education I began thirty years earlier. So enjoyable, in fact, that I’ve decided I might like to teach creative writing at the university level in the future, so for that I’ll need an MFA. I applied to UBC for grad school and I’ve been accepted, attending in-person this fall for their two-year program.

Completing any big goal is satisfying, but I also feel strange. For so long I dreamed about having additional time on my hands. To have five months off with no school seemed impossible to imagine, and now it’s here. I want to rest, to daydream, to read novels for pure pleasure and not feel like I’m supposed to be doing something else. To write, for myself and not for a grade.

I just finished a round of counselling, and in my last session I talked about the need for a creative break to let the soil of my mind rest. “I think that’s called letting the land lie fallow,” she said. The more I turned this word over in my mind, the more I fell in love with it. For me, this season between April and September is designed for intentional inactivity, a state that doesn’t feel naturally comfortable. But it is necessary.

Other than a few writing projects and some conference speaking, I’m going to prioritize a fallow state for my creativity. I’ll need to go into grad school as a full-time student with a sense of renewed purpose and energy. For those things, I require rest and rejuvenation.

Our culture likes to whisper in our ear, “You’re only valuable if you produce something, earn money, and work hard all the time.” But I’ve been fighting against this messaging for quite a long time, offering myself permission to slow down, simplify my existence and clarify my priorities. My 3 words for 2021 are peace, priorities and potential. They all fit well into this season of my life, where one big goal has been completed and another one has yet to begin. I’m in the liminal space, where I’m not quite sure of anything, except that rest is required so I don’t burn out.

We’ve all had a hellish twelve months. This time last year the whole world was turned upside down by Covid, and a year later we’re still fighting to stay healthy and carve out a tiny bit of novelty and fun wherever we can. It’s a long haul on a boring treadmill of sameness. For me, right now, the answer is the word fallow, which means “land plowed and left unseeded for a season or more.”

What does the word fallow look like in your life right now?

In Identity, Personal Growth, Speaking, University, Writing

Measuring Improvement

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Measuring Improvement

Measuring improvement can be challenging because it happens so slowly. But when it’s occurring  in a compressed period of time, say a spring semester of university, it’s more dramatic and obvious.

I’m almost finished my two classes this term and it’s interesting to look back and see how I’ve grown and changed in both of them. My favourite class by far is Young Adult Fiction in the Creative Writing department. I’ve learned so much from my professor, the KidLit textbook and my fellow students, inquisitive budding writers who are a pleasure to spend three hours with on a Monday morning.

Then there’s my English class. It’s a first year prerequisite that every student must take, and I’m the only mature student there. Monday afternoons I’m surrounded by eighteen year olds, several of whom have strong opinions on life that are diametrically opposed to mine. It makes for interesting debate but my blood has boiled on more than one occasion.

Returning to university in the fall was daunting, but the first Creative Writing class I took was a beautiful boost to my confidence (and the A+ grade I received didn’t hurt either). My YA class is a similar experience this semester, but English has knocked me down a few pegs when it comes to my grades and my abilities.

When I come home whining about another B+ after I put so much time into an assignment or an in-class writing exercise, Jason laughs and says, “This is good for you.” I routinely tell my kids that we can’t be experts at everything and often in life we have to settle for being “good enough.” It turns out I suck at taking my own amazing advice.

Yesterday I had to hand in my second paper of three in this English class. I put many hours into this thing and I know it’s the best work I can do at this point when it comes to thesis statements, topic sentences, and formal structured academic writing. I haven’t done this kind of thing in twenty-six years and I’m definitely rusty. I think I’ve improved over the course of the semester but I won’t know until I receive my grade.

The best way I have to measure my own improvement is the difference in my attitude. I’m not angry anymore that I didn’t get a string of A’s in this class like I wanted. I’m getting the marks that are suitable for my skills at this point. As Brene Brown teaches us, we have to make peace with the messy middle. When we learn something new, we fumble around in the dark for a long while before we get any semblance of capability for the task.

I don’t have a ton of patience for my own learning journey. I want to leapfrog ahead over the awkward, uncomfortable bits, even though I spent the month of February teaching conference sessions about the value of risk-taking, going straight into the hard stuff, and modelling vulnerability and authenticity. Sigh. Ain’t it great to be human and get so many chances to practice this shit?

We are all improving, every day, but the changes tend to be so minuscule that they become hard to measure. I know I’m a stronger and more capable writer because I’m back in university. I can feel it and see it demonstrated in the work I’m creating. But I’m definitely not good at everything.

When we learn new skills, floundering comes with the territory. The only way to push through that to the golden sunrise of accomplishment is to be patient, not to quit, and in my case, to accept my B+ with pride instead of frustration.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

Student

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
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.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Writing

A New Love for Poetry

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
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.