Showing all posts tagged writing

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Uncategorized, University, Writing

Graduation!

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve done it. I made it to the end of my full-time, in-person MFA in Creative Writing graduate program at UBC. I graduate later this month, in a cap and gown (something I missed out on when graduating from KPU with my BA in spring 2021 due to Covid protocols), and I’m excited and proud of this milestone achievement.

There were many times over the last two years that I doubted myself. I felt old, compared to my younger peers, and I worried that my style of writing wasn’t literary enough or avant-garde like the work others were producing. I experienced several moments of personal crisis, where I actively considered not writing at all.

Two things pulled me out of this tailspin. The first was my thesis process. I had a kick-ass advisor, and he gave me permission to write the book I longed to write. He told me to push aside any thoughts of grades, or critiques, or publishing, and simply WRITE for the pure joy of it. After a hard first year of grad classes, his encouragement and belief in my abilities saved me. It set me free from thinking about other people’s opinions and what might sell in the future or not sell. He let me write what was in my heart, and as a result the novel poured out of me. Writing that book made me feel like a writer again.

The second thing that restored my faith in myself was returning to creative nonfiction. Memoir is my first love (other than screenplays), but during my four years of undergrad and the first year of my MFA, I wrote mostly fiction. I didn’t know it, but I was slowly becoming disconnected from my own literary voice. Taking classes in CNF gave me back my voice. It restored my confidence. One woman went so far as to write me a letter after my workshop, saying how much my writing had meant to her, and she urged me to bank on myself. Her encouragement was like an outstretched hand, offering to pull me up and out of the quicksand I’d been sinking in. She helped me to breathe again.

During my last term in the program, I taught a third-year seminar creative writing class, while taking a graduate class in teaching and pedagogy, and I realised that I’m ready to take a new step in my career. I had a series of meetings with professors from both undergrad and grad school, and a fresh vision for my future began to emerge. I’m not quite ready to share all those details yet, because they are still in the early stages, but I’m excited and hopeful about what’s ahead. I have dreamed it, and begun to put a solid foundation under it, and I’ve stopped allowing others to define success for me. I’m now doing that for myself.

In a few weeks, I’ll cross a stage at UBC and receive my Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. I’ve worked hard, achieving an A+ grade average over both of my degrees. I’ve learned a lot, met some fascinating and talented people, and grown and changed in ways I couldn’t begin to conceive of when I returned to university as a mature student in 2017.

It’s time to celebrate, and the future looks bright.

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

3 Words for 2023

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Every year, I choose 3 words to focus on. Last year, I picked Process, not Product, and it was fun to learn to live into the concept of enjoying writing and teaching for the act itself, not for the end product of completing the project. Slowly but surely, my mindset changed over the course of twelve months.

This year, I chose Bank on Yourself. The phrase itself came from a new friend in my MFA program who took the time to write me a letter when I felt discouraged after one of my workshops. She said, “You know who you are and what it is you want to say. Your writing is beautiful. Bank on yourself.” What a precious gift of encouragement she gave to me that day, and beyond, for I’ve thought of her words often.

For quite awhile now, I’ve been trying to build up my own sense of competency. I worked with two different counsellors on this, and like all personal growth, I felt like I was floundering until one day I wasn’t. One day, I came to my feet, and found that I was once again standing on firm ground.

I could look back and prove to myself just how far I’ve come. That evidence helped me believe in myself again. For too long, I’d had so many other voices in my ear. Voices saying, “Not quite good enough” or “No one wants to read your work” or “You aren’t qualified to teach this or say this.” But it turns out I am qualified. I am good enough. And I’ve connected with a number of people who have kindly told me they do want to read what I’m writing.

That moment when a new puzzle piece of understanding clicks into place is a sensual experience. It involves all of the senses, making us feel like we are wide awake instead of half asleep. Suddenly, we can see new possibilities that were invisible to us before. It’s magic. For me, it never gets old or boring. It’s fresh and exciting every single time it happens.

In 2023, I’m graduating with my MFA in Creative Writing. I returned to university in 2017, hoping to graduate with my BA in ten years, so I could finish what I started thirty-two years ago. Instead of a decade, it took me 6 years to complete two degrees, and somewhere along the way I discovered a new dream of teaching young writers at the undergrad level. I’m so close now. And my publishing dreams are shifting and changing and taking on new and thrilling proportions.

I’m banking on myself, and it feels fucking amazing. I turned 50, and decided to stop waiting around. The time is now to step up and do all the things we’ve always wanted to do.

What are your three words for 2023?

In Books, Identity, Movies/TV, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Recalibrate

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’m working with a new counsellor, and she has me focusing on a new word this summer: recalibrate. Making adjustments to my routine or process is not always easy for me. I thrive in predictability, but looking at my plans and goals with the lens of recalibration (or making small, fine-tuning changes) has really opened up fresh possibilities for me.

I survived my first year of full-time grad school in the Creative Writing MFA program at UBC. It was busy, packed with more homework and writing deadlines than I’ve ever had before, but I made it to the other side. I learned a lot about myself as a writer. I met so many interesting and talented people. Over the second semester, I went through a crisis of confidence in my own abilities, unsure if my creative instincts and intuition could be trusted and relied on.

A few weeks off was what I needed to recalibrate and regain my perspective outside of the demands of full-time classwork and TA responsibilities. I took that time off in April, and found myself coming back to life again, the way a plant does with healthy doses of sunlight and water. I read, slept in, walked in nature, meditated, got back to my yoga practice, wrote in my journal, stretched, and watched some great TV (Search Party, Our Flag Means Death, Julia, the final episodes of Ozark, just to name a few).

Now I feel ready to embark on my thesis, a post-apocalyptic cli-fi novel I’ve been thinking about since my third year of undergrad. This story and these characters have been germinating in my mind and soul for more than eighteen months. I’m so excited to start writing and see where it all takes me.

I worried at various points over my first year of grad school that I wouldn’t be up to the task of writing a thesis over a four-month period, but I’ve come to realize that I can do things I didn’t think I could do. I’ve proved that to myself by going back to university in my mid-forties, and deciding to be a professor of Creative Writing after graduating with my MFA. It’s all in motion. I just needed some time to catch up to myself and what I’ve learned.

So now I start writing. I’m determined to hold loosely, to enjoy the process instead of focusing only on the finished product, and to cherish no outcomes. As writer Jami Attenberg said, “The safest place is inside the work.” And to quote Steven Spielberg, “The work that I’m proudest of is the work I’m most afraid of.” I’m going to hold both of these ideas close as I get down to work, taking care of myself by recalibrating my own expectations and shoring up my own confidence in a variety of ways.

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

Process, Not Product

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

One of my grad school professors taught me this phrase last semester: Process, Not Product. Usually I pick three words to focus on for each new year, but for 2022 I’ve decided to use this three-word phrase instead.

We used it in a writing class, but it works well as a general concept. Our North American society is so fixated on the end product. Along the way, the joy of the process required in order to achieve that product can become lost. I’m hoping to recover that joy this year.

The way my prof described it, the process is the part we have the most control over. Particularly when writing, but for many areas of life the process itself is what really matters. Setting up a creative practice that holds meaning for me is under my direct control. Thinking about the process in a new way, instead of fixating on the eventual outcome of that process, is likely to make me happier.

In 2022, this third year of our never-ending pandemic reality, I’m looking to a healthier daily work process instead of peering so far down the line to glimpse the finished product. This same professor encouraged his students to be fierce about our own work, to believe in ourselves and our unique voices, and to stop looking for so much validation outside of ourselves.

These are worthy pursuits for a new year. To channel our depleted energies into more of what we can control, and choose to let go of the areas where we have limited say. To inch toward kindness, in as many settings and relationships as possible, and to eschew cynicism in all of its nasty forms. To believe in goodness again, and to slowly cultivate the flame of hope to combat our despair.

Process, not product. I like the simplicity of this phrase. I wrote it on an index card above my desk, where I hope to remind myself of this focus every day of the year. I’m hoping it will help with the fear I feel about completing my thesis project this summer. Forecasting failure or success before I’ve even started the work is a losing game. Instead, I’ll put that energy into crafting a daily writing process that sustains me, and brings me joy, for that will be the thing that carries me through.

What process, not product can you concentrate on this year?

In Books, Identity, Movies/TV, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Uncategorized, University, Writing

New Season

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’m heading into a new season this fall, beginning my two-year full-time MFA program in Creative Writing at UBC. We’re meeting in person, which will be a huge change after moving online for the the last 18 months of my BA. With vaccinations available to everyone aged twelve and up this summer, it seemed possible for a “return to normal” in September, but classes begin next week and the variants are still spreading at alarming rates.

If we’ve all learned anything during this never-ending pandemic, it’s to expect change at a moment’s notice. We plan, and we hope, getting vaccinations when they are offered, wearing masks indoors to stay safe, thoroughly washing our hands, and trying not to take unnecessary risks. We have no guarantees, and we try to manage our fear.

In any new season, I usually feel a mix of joy and dread. This fall, I have lots of different emotions crowding to the surface. I’ve loved my five month break from academia. I’ve read loads of mystery and crime novels, slept in, watched some great TV, played cards with Jason and the kids, walked, practiced some yoga and wrote. My three guiding words in this season were: rest, relax, rejuvenate. I wanted to be prepared and ready for the new challenges of being a full-time MFA student.

Part of me mourns the end of the summer. The other embraces it with open arms, as I feel like I prioritized rest and leisure, so I hope I’ll see the rewards once I jump back in to classes and assignments. I’m also going to be a TA for the first time for an undergrad writing class. This both excites and scares me. We never really know if we are up to a challenge simply by thinking about it. We have to jump in and do it in order to really find out.

We have another unexpected change in the form of Ava taking a gap year before starting at University of Victoria. For an entire year, I’ve been emotionally preparing for her to leave home, grieving for her while she was still here living with us. And then at the end of July, we found out that she wouldn’t have a place to live on campus, so after a flurry of searching for off-campus housing that didn’t exist or was ridiculously expensive, Ava made the decision to defer her admission for one year. So she remains at home, working a couple of part-time jobs to save more money for school next year.

A lovely surprise because I don’t have to let go of her quite yet, but still a change that I wasn’t expecting. Next week, William starts grade 10 at a new high school in our district, so for him it’s a new season as well. Something in my nature loves predictability and certainty, but too much stability becomes stale. We do need a bit of variety and spontaneity to keep us engaged and growing.

The older I get, the more I understand that I can’t think my way through change. I just have to walk it out. Trying to forecast exactly what will happen is a fool’s errand. Situations are too complex for that type of guesswork. As we say in the recovery movement, an expectation is a premeditated resentment. I’m trying to “cherish no outcome” as a friend of mine says. Instead I choose to believe I’ll have what I need for the challenges ahead at the moment I need them. Not before and not after.

Tomorrow the calendar turns over to September and a whole new season begins. What’s in store for you this fall?