The Joyful Moments

Sensing my brain writing even while I am not.
Laughing with an acquaintance. Really laughing & feeling something shift between us.
Working out and noticing that my 3 lb. dumbbell tricep curls have become 12 lb. curls.
Noticing how peacefully my cat is sleeping at the end of my bed in the sunlight.
Watching a perfect movie.
Fixing my front door (so it locks) by myself.
Trying a new yoga practice and feeling eager for the next lesson.
Eating a combination of leftovers from the fridge and they taste delicious.
Seeing the sun glow behind the morning fog.
Getting a card from a dear friend and knowing they were thinking of me with each word.
Receiving twelve emails from women wanting to be in my class.
Being alive right now.

I am writing this post because I believe that if I want to re-pattern my neural pathways, if I want to access more joy in my writing then one of the ways I can do it is to notice more joy, more effortless joy every day, every hour, every minute.

So there

Monday Is One Day*

So it went well yesterday. I read all the pages of the new middle grade and it’s not only pretty good, it’s also not far from being a complete first draft. I dug into the syllabus and powerpoint for my Austin Community College Writing Children’s Literature class and made notes about next steps. Oddly, the class feels like it needs more big picture thinking and heavy lifting than the manuscript but working on both feels symbiotic.

Now it’s Monday. The beginning of the work week. Get busy. Get going. Go.

Instead, I’m thinking about hiking. Driving to the trail head. Slipping the route map to the peak in my pocket. Heading out, step by step. In a way, there is no magic in hiking. It’s one step after the other. To the top. If it’s a good route, there are panoramas along the way, shady places to breathe (or pant), maybe even some cool water. These are the places to stop and revel in the journey and the progress. And then it’s back to the step by step going. Until the end.

Yeah, I’m thinking about hiking.

I’m driving to the trailhead. I know the route.



*This title is a nod to Arthur Levine’s fine picture book about a child waiting patiently for the weekend when he will be with his parents uninterrupted by the work day.

The Nu-Age Spin

So I woke up this morning and thought about the things on my to do list, felt the audible “oh fuck” in my stomach and rolled back over. As I drifted off in the predawn light, I thought, “Be gentle with yourself.”

Well, that is some handy kind of permission to duck the work. Be gentle with yourself. It’s a new age dictum. (Or Nu-Age, if you use the commercial, store front spelling, which is funny because if you take out the hyphen in that misspelling, the word is nuage or cloud in french. New age, Nu-Age, Nuage…like the whole notion of New Age is a cloud puff of an idea. Or some cloudy thinking. You choose.)

But I digress.

Here’s what’s on the list:
Continue drafting the MG
Prep ACC class
And then some errand-y stuff, which I could happily put first. Errands are so good for feeling productive while not getting the main stuff done.

No, it’s those first two things causing me the ‘oh fuck’ nausea dread and ‘be gentle’ would not get the work done. Be gentle would lead to more oh fuck nausea. I know this cycle.

So what’s reasonable?
What would give me an ounce of joy?
What could I find a little enthusiasm and curiosity about?

Here it is:
1. Read through the middle grade; reconnect with it (December gets a little busy); find the next step.
2.Read through the ACC power point. Make a list of things you want to change, do, spiff up.

Way to break it down.
Way to lessen the dread
Way to turn the work into bite size pieces that I won’t choke on.

Way to make me a little bit curious.
A little bit hungry.

How nu-age of me.

You Keep Going

Some days are less joyful.
Bad night’s sleep.
Fifth rainy day in a row.
Every day is not a green screen of Mary Poppins animation where flowers come to life.
Some days are one minute after the next.
And you get through them
One minute after the next.
And somehow, something like joy returns.
Maybe it’s curiosity
Or expectation
Or that simple wondering
what’s going to happen next
So you’re distracted away from the drudgery
the plodding forward
for a minute
then five
then thirty

You make friends with these less joyful days
They become familiar
You begin to trust their comings
and goings

As you do
A friend.

And then this thought…

This is stupid.
Who Cares?
Does the world really need another word
Another thought
Another whatever?

Probably not.

And yet…
And yet…

That’s all it is: a thought. one crappy little thought cluster ready to derail the whole operation.

Hello there, crappy little thought.
You are part of the writing deal.
I can’t imagine you not showing up at  least once
during any creative endeavor.
I could say, Fuck off.
But what would be the point?
I can’t imagine you not showing up.
So…Hello there, crappy little thought.
Nice to see you are alive and kicking.
Guess what?
I’m going to keep going
Even though you are giving me that practically famous squinty-eyed look:
You better stop
No one cares
Be quiet.

Yeah, I’m gonna keep going and see what happens.