Winter in Winnipeg: Time to Write

I sat down to write on Friday night--old school style with pen and paper, a tall mug of tea beside me. I started with a sketch of a character and then put her in a setting and state of conflict. I got a page written before I reviewed it and frowned.

I needed something I could share at the writer’s workshop I had signed up for on Saturday afternoon. I considered backing out. It didn’t cost me anything and I had been so busy during the week and the week before that I needed some hours at home to catch up on laundry, recycling, alphabetizing soup cans, etc. It was so cold out too, ugh, did I really want to go out in that cold? Without another word written, at 10:30 I called it a night and went to bed.

I woke up on Saturday morning thinking about Meg, this fourteen year old I had started writing about last year sometime. I love Meg. I’m not sure that I am keeping her name as Meg though, I seem to name all my girl characters Meg, Maggie, M-something or other. But anyway, I love this character, Meg because she is so smart, so wise and certain for fourteen. I looked at what I had written for Meg’s story (also done in pen in a notebook) and evaluated it for its readiness for sharing. I felt surprisingly good about it—surprisingly because it’s not often that a first draft like that feels ready for sharing with strangers. I typed it up, doing some edits along the way, and ended up with seven good pages.

I took the bus downtown to the workshop location. There were nine of us, which seemed like a smaller group than I remembered from last time, but is probably about the same. There was one white-haired guy amongst the group of women ranging from twenty-something to sixty (seventy?)-something.

Last time I had brought a blog post that I re-purposed for the workshop, mostly keeping the real story and “character” intact. I hadn’t let on then that it was a creative non-fiction piece. This time, all but two of us had brought pieces of memoirs. It was all good work. Many of the writers were struggling with how far they could stray from the truth. They wanted to tell an interesting story, but they also wanted to stick to the facts. Welcome to the challenge that is this blog.

I was pretty quiet during the discussions but I tried to make up with it by nodding in agreement or sometimes saying yes or an emphatic mm hmm. Often someone would say the same thing I was thinking. I find it hard to contribute feedback in a group setting like that. If I was working one-on-one with another writer I believe I’d ask more questions to first get a sense of what they wanted comment on. I would have felt more comfortable sharing some insight into what I do to make a true story more interesting to an audience.

I volunteered to read first after we came back from a break. I explained that I feel description is my weakest part of my writing and that I worry when I do make the effort to include it, the description sounds forced or cliché. I chose a few different sections of my seven pages to read out loud as I had more than enough material to read from in my fifteen minute time limit. After reading I looked up and waited for someone to say something.

Oh my gawd, no one is going to say anything. They don’t get it, they can’t relate, they think it’s totally not plausible. Crap.

I’m sure that’s what every writer thinks when they look up from their reading and wait for the feedback to come. It feels like forever before someone breaks the silence. In that long moment after my initial panic while the hum of the elevator out the door and around the corner was clearly audible, I reminded myself of being in the creative writing class I took at the university in 2009. Sometimes I’d find myself without anything to say simply because I didn’t think I had anything helpful I could offer; the piece was just plain good.

The feedback, when it came, was all very positive. The moderator asked me questions about where the story was going and then compared it to Catcher in the Rye. It was agreed that my dialogue was strong and believable and the story felt authentic. Eight people confirmed that I had a story to tell and I was off to a good start. I really should get over myself and just write already.

I regretted the decision to take the bus on the way home. Of course, the bus was late. I stood in the bus shack on Main Street shifting from one foot to the other trying to keep my toes from freezing while simultaneously being paranoid that someone was going to demand my purse and iPod, or worse, my down-filled parka . I’m sure I must have looked like I was doing the Potty Dance. I didn’t get to start my laundry until I got home last night, and I don’t know when I will ever get around to alphabetizing those soup cans, but I’m glad I got myself to the workshop.

Other highlights of the weekend…

 

• Bought a new Cooking Light cookbook—every recipe has a coloured photo and detailed nutritional information.  

• Bought a Timex heart rate monitor at Costco for $69.99. I went straight to the gym after purchasing it to test it out. Nothing makes working out more fun than a new gadget or a new outfit to try.

• Went with Lisa to see True Grit. Warning, if you are considering seeing this movie, be prepared for snakes and horses getting shot. I’m okay with people dying, but I hate to see an animal go down, except for snakes, which I’d rather not see at all.

Heat: Part 2

Don't sweat the small stuff. (And it's all small stuff).

Yesterday I called my dad to ask if I could come to their place for supper tonight.

"I'm going to hot yoga with Amara and I'm picking her up at six forty-five," I said.

"So you'll be here at five-thirty?" he asked.

I agreed and went about the rest of my evening.

Today I came home from work feeling about 80 per cent burned out. The candle inside of me close to the base of the wick, the light dim. I had seventy-five minutes to myself before I would have to leave for my parents'. I stepped into the shower to wash the day away. I tried to squeeze more heat out of the water, completely closing the cold water tap, but there was no more to be had. I stepped out and drew the big citrus orange towel around me for a dry hug. I was clean again.

On my way out I checked my phone and saw that my parents had called, twice, and left a voicemail. I only had one bar of power left and didn't want to spend it on retrieving the message when I was going to be seeing them momentarily. I tossed the phone in my bag and headed out.

The roads are like curling rinks this week. This is my least favourite road condition because Truck performs so very poorly. LOW TRACTION flashed above the odometer as I spun my wheels. Brake lights flashed intermittently in front of me. Spin, go, stop. Spin, go, stop. It took me twice as long as usual to get to Charleswood.

"Who called and what did you want?" I asked my mom when I got inside.

"It was me, I wanted to know what time you were coming," she said.

I hung up my jacket in the closet, dropped my keys and mitts on the table. "Dad told me five-thirty," I said and headed to check my email.

I was getting caught up in checking my mail, Facebook, the news, when Dad came in and asked me if I wanted garlic butter on my toast. I imagined first the resulting stink of garlicky sweat and then the blah-taste of plain buttered toast. I chose garlic and hoped Amara could forgive me.

I emerged from the computer room and saw that it was six twenty-four. My eyes bulged because I was supposed to pick Amara up at six forty-five. The lasagna was just coming out of the oven, steaming.

I cut through the cheese and took a small bite. Hot. I was hungry though. Beggars, choosers. Lord I love them, but don't put retired folks on a schedule, lesson learned. The whole day boiled up under my skin again. I put a forkful of hot cheese, noodle and beef in my mouth and it blistered the roof of my mouth, numbed my tongue. My parents tried to inject cheer into the situation but I was having none of it.

At six thirty-five I left for Amara's. When I pulled up to her house Little boy B was dancing and laughing in the window. My heart lifted and everything else melted away. Thank goodness for little boys.

The yoga class began with lying down. I could feel the hot, heavy air pressing on my face, enveloping my limbs. With my eyes closed I imagined I was in India.

It didn't take long for the sweat to start dripping. Depending on the pose the water rolled down to my lips or up my nose or into my ears. I was swimming within myself.

A few times I felt dizzy so I took a pause. I struggled a bit with the tree pose, especially on my weak ankle. I just kept thinking, don't sweat the small stuff. Just enjoy the glorious heat.

Life does not seek to punish us, only to give us opportunities to learn and grow. Don't let the small stuff burn you out; enjoy the heat.

Heat: Part 1

The walls have ears.

No more payments on Truck meant that I was looking forward to some extra cash being left over in my bank account each month. Dollar signs danced in my head along with paint and floor samples for my kitchen, snow tires, night classes, etc. I awoke from that sweet dream on Sunday morning and shivered. Around 10am I realized that the furnace was not coming on. I check the thermostat. It was showing an animated graphic of a dancing flame, which is supposed to mean that the thing is running. A phone call to my dad and $169 later I had a new motor installed and the heat was flowing again. It could have been much worse and much more costly. Please, please, please let the hot water tank hang on.

One of my colleagues twisted my arm into going out for lunch today. I had packed the fixings for what would be a sweet and savory toasted turkey sandwich but we ended up at the Spicy Noodle House instead. (Good-Wooden Leg designers, you were on my mind the whole time, miss you guys.) I picked the table by the window and ordered my standard bowl of spicy soup. I coughed on the first spoonful, by the third my lips were warm and my nasal passages were opening up. It was everything I remembered, minus the good-natured teasing that I used to get with the Good-Wooden group.

"Y'know, if I were you, I'd spend some time working abroad," my lunch friend said. He's told me this before.

"I've got my family here, my house," I said. I like the idea of an adventure but I was feeling sentimental over a bowl of soup. I don't think crossing the ocean is something I'm in a place to consider right now.

Job-->Truck-->House-->New furnace motor. This is my very settled, very grounded life. It's not for everyone, but that's not who I live for.

New Year Orientation

Hello 2011, welcome to my life. Together, we will explore the final year of my 20s and the first few weeks of my third decade on Earth.

Your predecessor, 2010, was agreeable on the whole but supplied its fair dose of heartache (see eHarmony adventures in the first quarter and death in the family in Q2). I appreciated however, the perspective 2010 gave me. We didn't always agree, but I usually walked away feeling I had learned something and gained new, valuable insight. I give a lot of credit to 2010 for personal growth in the area of wisdom. And, it was nothing like the doozie known as 2009. I suppose we all encounter years like that from time to time.

2011, I feel I should give you some idea as to what I want to get out of you, the vision I have for you. I can't just expect you to read my mind and deliver. That said, it is still early and I haven't completely formalized my plans for you. I usually like to review and tweak on a quarterly basis. We will have regular planning meetings, opportunities to touch base, etc.

To begin, I'd like to take on a new novel writing project, likely this month, as I did with 2010. This time around though I'd like to take five weeks to complete it, which would mean committing to 10,000/week. In my first attempt I went in without much of a plan. The result was a positive experience, but not a product I was terribly happy with. I'd like to improve the product but still keep to a tight schedule as I feel it was key to sticking with the project and seeing it through to completion. I've already signed up for  a January 22 writers workshop at which I will have to have something to share.

I have finished paying for Truck which means that I will have an extra $475 to my name each month. I would like to invest this money in retirement savings, home improvements and personal improvements. For home improvements I'd like to paint my kitchen and install new flooring. I had thought that I might like to do this in January also, but perhaps I am being too ambitious with loading all these goals in your first month. I may push this goal back to February or March, although, you should know, I have already begun research on this.

For personal improvements there are some courses I am considering through Continuing Education. I need to look again at when they are being offered. I will get back to you on this one.

I'm also interested in investing in a heart rate monitor for use during my workouts at the gym. I've made going to the gym a regular habit and would now like to focus on getting the most out of my workouts by ensuring that I am exercising at the level I need to be in order to attain my fitness goals. Right now I am looking at the miCoach Pace Bundle by Adidas. It retails in Canada for $169.99. The sooner I pick out a monitor, the sooner I can get serious about my fitness goals, so this is another possible goal for January. Until then, I'll do my best with just placing my fingers on my neck.

There is one more personal improvement investment I have in mind. I've had some thought about giving eH another shot. Lisa's on there still and got a good subscription price. If I could get the same price I'd do it. Overall it was a fun experience for 2010 and made for good blogging.

Finally, 2011 you are shaping up to be a good year because on the weekend I got an email from my good old friend OAF announcing his plan to travel across Canada by bike. He will begin in April in B.C. and tentatively has plans to arrive in Manitoba by May. 2011, this is super exciting. I haven't seen OAF since he was NYF in 2008. I have already responded to OAF to let him know I'd be happy to be his ambassador to Manitoba and provide him with a bed and fridge full of beer upon his arrival to Winnipeg. More details on this to come as he finalizes his plans.

So 2011, that's what I have in mind so far. I trust this is enough for you to get going. No doubt you are already planning some surprises--both pleasant and unpleasant to make the next 12 months interesting. I usually try not to rely on you too much to supply inspiration and paths, however, I am considering testing out a more "whichever way the wind blows" approach with you to change things up a bit. I feel some of the previous years have taught me to keep my eyes and options wide open to maximize opportunity for full enjoyment.

I truly do have a good feeling about you, 2011. I am sure we will accomplish a lot together before your time is up.