PLAYING HOOKY
Dear Writing Friends:
It is Wednesday morning, December 30, 2009. I am sitting at a long wooden table in the condo we’re renting in Port Aransas, Texas. It is off-season (Port A. is a beach town) and we’re in an end unit next to an empty field, so it’s blissfully quiet. We made a last minute decision to come here, to spend the remaining days of 2009 by the water. We talked about it forever and, finally, with a long school break ahead of us and no real plans, we took the plunge—made the reservations, boarded the dogs, and packed up the car. It is rare we get out of town, just the three of us. We’re usually too busy and tired from all the work-related trips and family visits to out-of-town relatives.
As I write this, Shira is outside playing with a friend who happens to be here, but even when she was sitting at the table with me earlier this morning, the room was hush. Shira’s been entertaining herself with activity books and drawing. We’ve spent several long mornings at this table together lounging in our pajamas. I’ve been catching up on back issues of the New York Times Book Review and the New Yorker and otherwise giving my mind a well-deserved rest. I left my computer at home along with my book manuscript and the essay I was struggling with last week. I needed a break from my projects and they needed a break from me. I did bring a notebook for my daily writing practice, but other than jotting down a few notes for this newsletter, I’ve been happily unproductive. Although I have been reading in preparation for my spring class. I put the book in my bag at the last minute thinking I might get a head start if there was time, when I was ready, and because it was the only thing I could realistically expect to cross off my to-do list.
Before we left, I made a list of projects I needed to complete in the first week of the New Year. At the top (just ahead of this newsletter) came organizing my spring course for the League. I needed a curriculum, something to hand out on the first day to instill confidence in my students that I have some kind of a roadmap for the course; I needed a lesson plan for the first meeting (January 10); and I needed to read at least part of the first book on our reading list in order to guide discussion. The first two tasks sounded too much like work. On the other hand, I organized the course around books I wanted to re-read and study, and so I tossed my copy of On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan, in my book bag.
With the New Year looming, I feel obliged to give some advice about setting and attaining goals, although that seems to have been well-covered by bloggers and media gurus by now. Knowing that in a few short weeks the resolve we feel today will almost certainly fizzle, I’d like to offer instead a little trick I use when my energy and enthusiasm wane. I adapted this exercise from something I found in Julia Cameron’s book, The Sound of Paper, and will copy it below in lieu of a writing topic and quotation. It involves two simples steps: making a list of five small tasks or actions you could take toward your goal and choosing the one that sounds the easiest and/or the most fun. And when I say small, I mean really small. When I left for Port Aransas, I didn’t set a goal of how many pages I would read each day. I just said I’d begin. This trick works because it requires little commitment and because you get to make a choice. Instead of flogging yourself into getting to the page and writing for two hours, you do something that sounds easy and fun. You’re no longer sitting in detention, but playing hooky! And because it’s easy and fun, you want to do it more. It also leads to the next logical action. In my case, reading lead to more reading, which spurred ideas for the first class. The curriculum followed almost effortlessly. In short, it’s another lesson in trusting your mind.
Our beach vacation was the perfect pause, a chance to slow down and listen. What direction do I want to move in? What comes next? In between watching dolphins dive in the gulf and herons hover in trees, in the quiet mornings at the kitchen table, I heard the sound of my own heart and mind. Instead of torturing myself with resolve to reach goals, I want to have fun. I want “work” to be more like play and I want it to be effortless. It’s not entirely realistic, but it’s something to shoot for. Sounds like a New Year’s resolution to me.
By the way, there is still time to enroll in my spring course, “The Practice of Reading and Writing Together” (details below). We’ll begin reading On Chesil Beach, by McEwan, in which the sexual metaphors of plot are made explicit in the characters’ advances toward lovemaking. Sound fun? It will be. But you’d better hurry. There are only a few spaces left.
Keeping On (from The Sound of Paper, by Julia Cameron)
Try this: Many of us would love to keep on if we could just figure out how. We forget that Morning Pages, Artist Dates, and Walks are all tools that move us forward. Instead of seeking small and gentle next steps, we look for dramatic breakthroughs. Take pen in hand and list five tiny ways by which you could move forward.
For example:
1. Morning Pages
2. Artist Dates
3. Walks
4. Straightening my work area.
5. Subscribing to a magazine in my area of interest.
The point of this list is gentle encouragement, but embedded in that word is the root word of courage. Take heart and execute one tiny step forward.
Upcoming workshop at Writers’ League of Texas:
The Practice of Reading and Writing Together
Sundays, Jan. 10, Feb. 14, March 14, April 11, & May 16, 3 PM to 6 PM
This class combines writing practice with the practice of close and careful reading for craft. Each month the class will cover a different book, selected for its example of structure, scene, setting, etc. Then, students will try those techniques in class using the structure of writing practice. In between meetings, students will write in small groups, either online or in person, depending on the schedules of group members.
This class requires a commitment to regular writing practice, including writing with the small group, reading the assigned material at least once, and reading/listening to one another's work without judgment or comment. Students will have the opportunity to turn in one piece of writing to the instructor for feedback.
This course is limited to 15 people.
Reading List:
Thunder and Lightning, by Natalie Goldberg
Insatiable, by Erica Rivera (author will do phone chat with the class)
The Best Day, The Worst Day, by Donald Hall.
On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan
Larry's Party, by Carol Shields
Inconsolable, by Marrit Ingman (in-class author interview)
For more information, call the League office, (512) 499-8914, or see go to their website: www.writersleague.org/programs/classes.html#goldman2.
My best to each of you for a joyous New Year.
Saundra