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Oct 28

Amanda Craig on motherhood and creativity

amanda-craig-01I came across a worthwhile blog post from Amanda Craig, British writer and journalist, about writing and motherhood. Interesting (or depressing?) to note that she doesn’t think it really gets any easier as the kids get older. An excerpt:

To write properly demands unbroken concentration, and solitude. You can just about manage a couple of hours early in the morning when they are sleeping in, but it’s in many ways worse that when they were very little and needed constant 24 hour attention. Teenagers get into scrapes, and need rescuing from the place where they’ve lost their Oyster card/mobile etc. They probably are less resilient than my generation, but when I think what that cost me in terms of fearfulness (catching an international aeroplane every three months aged twelve, alone, and having your passport stolen or getting on a flight diverted to another country are two of my least pleasant memories) then it’s something I’d rather not put them through. I don’t believe in that  nonsense about what doesn’t destroy you makes you stronger.

So, no woman novelist of my acquaintance works at fiction during the holidays. It’s the same reason that you never find women with children going on those tempting-sounding writer’s retreats in places like Hawthornden Castle or Lake Como. Though, let me tell you, we need them rather more than the chaps and childless women who do go there, get served hot and cold repasts and bond.

It may be hard going, but Craig has done it, nonetheless. She has published six books and a number of short stories, at least some number of which she completed after having kids. Read the full post here.

I can’t resist including this passage from the author’s bio page:

…I continued to rewrite my first novel, which was a comedy about a spoilt, snobbish young woman discovering Italy and love. Along the way, I won a couple of prizes for my journalism (Young Journalist of the Year and the Catherine Pakenham award)  each of which had the effect not of advancing my career but getting me fired from staff jobs I desperately needed. I led a very hand-to-mouth existence, cycling everywhere, reading newspapers in libraries and shopping in street markets. The Pakenham prize brought me to the attention of a well-known literary agent who asked to see my novel. I sent it to her, and she promptly lost it. Unfortunately, it was my only copy as I could not afford the photocopying costs.

So I sat down to write it all over again, and that novel became Foreign Bodies which was bought by Hutchinson, and published in 1990 to disastrous reviews. The second, A Private Place, was published in 1991. Its slightly more positive reception led to me becoming a critic on various national newspapers including The Independent. Since then, I have continued to combine writing fiction with reviewing it.

Can you imagine, an agent LOSES the ONLY copy of your manuscript, and you have to write the whole damn thing all over again? OH. MY. GOD.

You’ll also find an interesting blog post on this page, the second one down, entitled “What is the point of keeping on writing?” There are a few other goodies at Craig’s site. Enjoy.

Oct 27

3 Comments

Kelly: Remember…and Be the Change

sthompsonCross-posted from my personal blog. Warning: This is not my usual feel good, Happy Shack post.

For the last three days, I, like probably everyone else in the Jacksonville metro area, have been overcome with the story of Somer Thompson. The story made the national news, but for those of you out of the area who’ve not heard about it, seven-year-old Somer disappeared on her way home from school last Monday afternoon. She was walking home with her twin brother and 10-year-old sister when the trio got in a little squabble and Somer ran ahead of her siblings, disappearing into the cool fall afternoon.  It was about 3pm. Her body was found in a dump in Folkston, Georgia, three days later.

Sadly, we hear more and more stories like these every day. I just learned this morning that another little girl, nine-year-old Elizabeth Olton, has been missing in Missouri since yesterday afternoon. All these cases are tragic, yet Somer’s story hit me incredibly close to home. I grew up in Orange Park, a suburb of Jacksonville, and lived less than two miles from where Somer’s family now lives. All my friends lived in that neighborhood, and we went to those neighborhood schools. One of my best friends lived on the same street as Somer’s family, and I rode my bike there several times a week. It’s unfathomable to think that a child was taken on a street that I played on many days of my young life.

The past couple of days, I’ve been talking with my girls more about stranger danger, a very important yet very difficult conversation to have with two six-year-old little girls. It’s finding that thin balance between wanting them to remain safe and make good choices while not scaring them so much that they want to turn inward and never experience the joys of childhood that all children deserve. It’s amazing how much the world has changed in the 30-35 years since I was a kid in that neighborhood. So many of us who rode the streets for hours on our bikes, staying out until dark or until Mom yelled for us to come eat dinner, now are faced with a world in which we are often afraid to let our own children do the same.

I can only imagine the devastation Somer’s family is feeling right now, particularly her mother. I’ve been on the verge of tears for her for three days, many times letting them just spill over. To bring the story even closer to home, yesterday I learned that Somer’s mother is a student right here on my campus. My students and I are working on a memorial for Somer that will take place on Monday, and I’m working with our Foundation to establish a scholarship in Somer’s name. My hope would be that the first scholarship would be awarded to Somer’s mother, and then in subsequent years, to other single mothers struggling to make ends meet while trying to make a better life for their families. If you’d like to make a donation to this scholarship once it’s established, just email me or post a comment below and I’ll send you the information as soon as it’s available.

So today, no, not my usual upbeat post. Today, I’m asking you to hug your babies, no matter how old they are. And think about our world, think about your neighborhood, think about little Somer and all the other kids out there who are missing or lost. And think about their families. Pray for them. Hope for them. And think about what little things you can do to maybe make this world a better place.

“We must be the change we wish to see in the world.” ~Mahatma Ghandi

Oct 26

19 Comments

Miranda: Yeah, I’m writing, but OUCH

26421546_0cccf04d2eWhat lengths will you go to in order to protect your creative time?

I’ve come to depend on my Saturday morning “me time.” My husband and I split the weekend mornings; he gets Sunday. This means I can either sleep in on Saturdays or get up early and start writing — or a combination of the two. But I have from whenever I get up until 10:00 or even 11:00 (if I push it) all to myself, assuming that I don’t have to leave the house to go do something. Like pick kids up from sleepovers.

Sleepovers. A few weeks ago I came to realize that my Saturday morning time was increasingly being sacrificed to pickups for one of my older kids after a Friday night sleepover. Sleepover pickup time seems to be 10:00 by default. This means I need to leave the house by 9:45 in most instances — so I have to start showering/getting dressed by 9:15. If my husband and I were up late the night before and I want to sleep in a little, maybe I get out of bed at 8:00. So, up at 8:00, make coffee….by the time I’m happily ensconced back in bed with my coffee and laptop, I might have an hour left before having to stop. Now, an hour is nothing to sneeze at, but it’s a whole lot less than nearly THREE hours. And without question, once I’m up and have joined the family, that’s it. There’s no going back to my morning hidey-hole. What’s a mama to do?

I started telling my older kids that they had to nail-down pickup time BEFORE dropoff. Either they needed to know that I could pick them up at 11:00 or later, or they had to arrange for a ride home. If neither option was feasible, and the sleepover couldn’t be moved to our house, then no sleepover. I figured that this was only one of the two weekend nights anyway, so it couldn’t be too problematic.

My new edict took hold. Things were going well. I started remembering to remind the kids about pickup plans before I agreed to take them anywhere on Friday nights. More time to self = happier me.

Then, this weekend, my mother came down to babysit while my husband and I went to the David Gray concert in Boston. As we were leaving — late — my daughter asked if she could sleepover at a friend’s house. She needed a dropoff, however, and it was out of our way. No go. But then Grandma volunteered to take her, with the two little ones in tow. Fine. Daughter was happy and packed her stuff in a rush. Just as we were all heading out the door at the same time, I remembered: “What about tomorrow? Are you going to need a ride before 11:00?” Oh. Daughter wasn’t sure. She made a few calls. No, she had to be picked up by 10:00 because the host had a soccer game, and the other girl who was also sleeping over was unable to give my daughter a ride.

I thought about my morning, and how I was so looking forward to getting back to my manuscript. I thought about what I’d just said to Cathy about how your family won’t take your creative commitment seriously unless YOU take it seriously. I want to finish this book, and I need to treat my work LIKE MY WORK.

I told my daughter I couldn’t pick her up at 10:00.

She was sweet, and didn’t give me a guilt trip. “It’s OK,” she said. “I’m going to have a busy weekend NEXT weekend.”

I felt like crap. Really, was it such a big deal to cut my morning a little short? I couldn’t do it. “It’s fine, I’ll just get you in the morning,” I said (a little reluctantly). “No, Momma,” she said. “It’s fine.” She headed back to her room, and I let it go. We left, while I fell into maternal self-flagellation. Isn’t it a mother’s JOB to drive her kids all over the place? Was it really fair to deprive my daughter of a fun night with her friends, just because I selfishly wanted MORE time to myself?

I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I don’t know if I want to know. But my daughter didn’t go, and I used my morning time effectively. I kind of owed it to my daughter to do that, didn’t I?

What would YOU have done?

Some of our readers are contemplating (or have already committed to) NaNoWriMo. What are you going to do to protect the amount of time required for churning out 1,600 words a day? Sure, most people here (even non-writers!) could churn out 1,600 words in a single day. But EVERY day, for THIRTY days?

Despite the sheer terror mild panic, I’m thinking of running “bandit” on the NaNoWriMo road race. I can’t commit officially, because I want to work on my current fiction project and NoNoWriMo rules specify that all projects MUST be from scratch. I’m also more than a little intimidated by the 1,600 daily benchmark. Even just committing to 500 words a day might be a struggle for me. Once I get going, I’m fine, but finding the sit-in-your-seat-and-get-started window, every day, is pas evident.

Stepping up your game, and making sure that YOU are clear on your commitment and that you then communicate that commitment to your family, are essential steps. What else can we do to create — and protect — our time?

[Photo courtesy Shawn Allen under a Creative Commons license.]

Oct 22

13 Comments

The dissonance of music and motherhood

clarinetShortly after blogging about Rachel Power’s important book The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood, I came across a personal essay by Diana Cassar-Uhl that poignantly illustrates the pain of a “divided heart” that so many artist mothers experience. When you’re devoting time to your children, you’re alienated from your creative work. When you’re devoting time to your art, you’re alienated from your children. When your art is your profession and you’ve spent a lifetime becoming an artist, this dichotomy can be intense — as Diana expresses so beautifully in her essay, which appears below.

This essay originally appeared in ICView, the magazine of Ithaca College, and won second place in the magazine’s 2009 arts and literary contest. Reprinted with permission. (Many thanks to the author and ICView.)

Conflict of Interest
By Diana Cassar-Uhl

I’m contemplating ending my career as a clarinetist. It’s a choice I never expected to face. I thought I’d stay at my job until retirement. Music chose me. I know I could never have pursued anything else without feeling paralyzing regret.

I’m not sure how I got here. One might assume that giving birth to my first child was the turning point that ripped me from my commitment to music, but I experienced a career-defining performance when Anna was not yet eight months old.

About two years ago, at what might have been my last solo recital, another musician was amazed that I, a mother of two young children, could give a recital. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t balancing my career with motherhood the way it seemed I was, that I was losing my mind and felt completely out of control.

My recital program spoke of my past, my present, and my future as a musician and as a human. I had no idea just how connected to that music I would feel until I was giving the performance. It was the first time in years that I wasn’t just playing the notes. I had a lot of things to say — about who I was, what I am going through, and what I desire.

I finished my recital with Appalachian Spring, and it was the stuff dreams are made of. My heart was on my sleeve during those 25 minutes of my life. There were exquisitely musical moments, and the big, sweeping statement of “Simple Gifts” told everyone what I really want — to be simple and free!

I sobbed, right there on the stage. I was filled with joy and sadness and direction and confusion all at once. I crave the simplicity of motherhood, without the shackles of all this “otherhood” . . . the tangible pain that has crept into my musical experience; the despair I feel to my core because I can’t ignore the dichotomy: there are instances of humanity and beauty in my job, but they are overshadowed by cynicism.

This is why I struggle with the difficulties of balancing my hard-sought career with my even harder-sought family. I can’t pretend to feel proud that I’m leaving my children. This negative force brings me frustration and illness. My children are infected with my anger.

I don’t know whether I’ll stay or go. Music has forever claimed a part of who I am. I don’t know whether I’ll find a way to satisfy that need, or if that part of me will go unanswered.

~~~

It’s hard to come up with words to ease Diana’s heartache, isn’t it? I think it takes another professional musician to speak with authority to Diana’s experience. About two years ago, I interviewed classical guitarist Berit Strong for the book I’m writing about artist mothers. Because Berit’s words might be of some comfort to Diana — and the rest of us, of course — here is an excerpt from that interview.

Berit Strong: Music and motherhood

Berit Strong, an award-winning classical guitarist, lives in Acton, Massachusetts, with her husband and two children, 10 and 12 years old. She has performed in hundreds of concerts around the world. She also teaches students at all levels, privately and at area organizations.

When her children were first born, Berit took a break from performing. But a few years later, when her children were 1 and 3, Berit received an invitation to play a concerto with a large orchestra. The piece was one of the hardest in the guitar repertoire, and one that Berit had dreamed of playing since she was a teenager — Joaquin Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez. Although it would take a year of preparation, she couldn’t say no.

With an infant and a toddler at home, Berit cobbled together practice time through part-time preschool, a few hours of day care, her husband, and capitalizing on any opportunity to pick up her guitar. Sometimes she’d take an evening “nap” and then get to up practice from midnight to 2:00 a.m., or wake up at 5:00 to get some time in before the children work up. “I needed time to memorize really hard music. I couldn’t get that time free of interruption otherwise. And sometimes I’d let them watch an hour of TV in the morning. I tried to be really strategic and practice during every moment of that time. When you want to keep your fingers in shape, just as a baseline, you need to practice your scales for 45 minutes a day. I think with writers, they say your daily output just to stay ‘in shape’ should be 1,000 words a day. It’s the same with any discipline.”

To find enough time in the day to practice scales, learn the new music, get it down perfectly, and memorize it, Berit made conscious concessions. “I got in the habit of doing the house and the dishes at 3:00 in the afternoon. I had this rule that I wouldn’t do any dishes until then. I had to make the most of my biorhythms. Once the kids were occupied, I would practice. I think that made me a better mom than being a goody-goody and doing the dishes in the morning.”

The intensity of Berit’s life during that period made her laugh at the idea of having it all. “When people used to ask me how I balanced my life, I would say ‘You must be kidding!’ There is no such thing as balance. The ancient Chinese didn’t believe in balance; you have to be really intense about your life. Certainly when I was preparing for that concert, balance was a ridiculous concept. I didn’t see anybody, I didn’t socialize. I was getting ready for a concerto. I was happy to sacrifice anything else. No time for jogging, I didn’t promote my career, this was the chance of a lifetime. I once lived in Italy for two years. They think that Americans are laughable in the concept of balance. You can’t have both — it’s really hard to have everything the way you want it.”

Despite the sacrifices, Berit made it work, and focused on the positives. “I didn’t feel guilty because I had really good daycare and my husband was really great. Well, maybe I had a little bit of guilt, but not much because I knew I was a better mom. I was watching them carefully, though, because they were so young, and if you have a workaholic mom, who knows what will happen. It was a finite amount of time, but it was really hard. My husband was really supportive, even though he’s not a musician. He has no vision of what I have to do and how much work I have to do. And there were times when the kids just wanted Mommy. I think there were a couple of instances when the kids were screaming and I had to practice. It was expensive, too. They paid me, but I had to get extra time at daycare. But it was worth it. It was an investment in my career.”

And then, after a year of work and stress, it was all over in a few hours. “When the concert was over, my life really did go back to normal, and I am more of a stay-at-home mom. Being a musician, you get depressed and sad when the concert is over — something you worked so hard for is over in 35 minutes. It was a great moment, but it was over. When you go to a museum, pieces hang there for years. But with a concert, that’s it.”

Today, Berit is still performing, but hasn’t advanced in her career as much as she might have. This was another conscious choice, and an adaption. “I haven’t gotten my first commercial recording out yet. I might be kind of burned out. It’s a wavy thing. It’s hard to keep going sometimes. How can I be a happy person and perform? Classical guitar is so detail oriented — I’d rather play something easier.”

So Berit has found a new outlets. “I keep dreaming of finding more time to be creative. I’m performing more on the viola de gamba now. I met this instrument in college — my husband got me one three years ago. It’s an early music instrument of the 1400s, sort of an early cello, but it has frets and six strings. It’s easier, in a way. I can sit down and sight read and have a blast — it’s really hard to do that on the guitar. I play in two early music groups. We have metal bass strings and gut strings, really gorgeous. When you’re in the guitar world for so many years, it’s nice to have to an instrument that I can sustain — a bow — there’s something about the sound that gives me strength, especially in dealing with my parents. It makes me feel very good. It’s important to have an instrument that you like. My dream is to be better at the gamba.”

For schedule, Berit can usually push for a finite period. “I can go really hard for two or three months. If I worked really hard, had a few concerts, I’ll take two or three weeks off because it’s better for my ear.”

Despite peer pressure, Berit is satisfied with the choices she’s made — for now. “I don’t think that fame is really important. Before children, I was performing in Europe and everywhere, but in terms of quality of life it’s pretty cool to hang out with your kids and watch them grow. I could have chosen to be all over the place, performing and recording constantly. I didn’t want to push myself like that. My colleagues are doing it, but I’d rather do a good job as a mom. I love traveling and meeting people, being taken to places that no tourists have ever gone to. I do want to go back to that, one day.”

For women in similar situations, who can’t travel and focus on a performance career in the way that they’d like, Berit recommends teaching. “I’ve been teaching for 18-20 years, and I think teaching is great. It’s a baseline for your creative identity. You don’t want to lose that completely. I make money, it keeps me in the music world, and I’m telling the students what I need to hear myself.”

~~~

Voices from the chorus? If you were Diana, might you feel buoyed by Berit’s story — or deflated?

Afterthought: I believe that my son, who is a freshman at Ithaca College School of Music — Diana’s alma mater — will probably never experience the division that Diana faces. One day he may have a child, but I don’t think he’ll ever consider hanging up his guitar, no matter how much he falls in love with his offspring. Somehow it’s just different for dads. Even artist fathers who are committed caregivers and are deeply involved in their children’s lives don’t seem to grapple with the “choice” that mothers must face. Men are for the most part “allowed” to follow their creative genius wherever it takes them without being accused of abandoning their children. They also don’t seem to feel that leaving their children behind “by choice” is frequently synonymous with having their hearts ripped out. And of course, they don’t seem to carry the blame when there are no clean socks and the fridge is empty.

Why is that?

[photo courtesy aussiegall under a Creative Commons license]

Oct 21

12 Comments

Creative Construction is now Studio Mothers!

I admit that I never really cared for the name Creative Construction. I think it was the alliteration that appealed to me as I struggled to find a WordPress name that was available. Last year, I purchased the domain name StudioMothers.com, knowing that I eventually wanted to migrate the blog to that URL. Turns out that the migration wasn’t difficult at all — and now we have a name that better describes who we are. I’m thrilled. Celebrate!

Oct 21

5 Comments

Motherhood, writing, and nature

website-image-launchComing in January 2010: The Motherhood Muse, a new blog and literary magazine that you will definitely want to read. You might also be inspired to submit your own work. Check it out:

The Motherhood Muse is a literary magazine, created to encourage mother writers to rediscover and reconnect with nature through their bodies, minds, and souls. It is a creative writing source that inspires mother writers to share nature’s gifts with children through our actions and messages. Upon the birth of my second daughter I created The Motherhood Muse to bridge the gap between mothers and nature, so our children will not be detached from nature. This site will help mother writers find freedom, creativity, and privacy in nature, which will encourage our children to play where the wild things are. Through literature we seek connection with nature for ourselves and for our children. Why is this reunion between nature and people crucial? The answer is here!

The Motherhood Muse literary magazine and blog features original, brilliant creative writing that explores motherhood through the lens of nature, the female body, mind & spirit, and our children’s relationship with nature. We publish creative nonfiction essays, articles, fiction, poetry, columns and photos. The Motherhood Muse goes beyond a walk in the woods to rejuvenate our creative writing minds. We seek writing that explores the nature of motherhood on a deeper level to open our minds to the wonders of mother nature and our place in it.

Here at The Motherhood Muse mother writers find a comfortable, supportive nook for writing and discussing our journey in discovering ourselves as mothers and women in nature. The Writer’s Workshop provides literary information to help mother writers develop their craft in new, original ways.

The Motherhood Muse blog is a second resource for mother writers who wish to share more ideas and learn more about creative writing.

The concept of The Motherhood Muse is unique as it connects mother writers with nature through our bodies, minds, and souls. We strive to support mothers in their journey through the wild beauty of motherhood by sharing these works of literature.

Good luck to all at The Motherhood Muse — I look forward to reading the first issue.

Oct 20

5 Comments

Now for the “real life” blogger moms

momswithoutblogsLast week I ranted about the mannequin-style approach at Mom Bloggers Club. Amy and Emma-Jane pointed out that the site’s header depicts women who are clearly NOT at home trying to bang out a blog post on an old laptop with a shift key that no longer works while the forgotten broccoli steams to mush on the stove and the kids pull each other’s hair out in front of a Disney DVD.

Many of you who shared the pain may be glad to hear about Moms without Blogs, a site for mother bloggers and non-bloggers who DON’T aspire to be the Martha Stewarts of the web. Moms without Blogs is “a team of super-cool chicas from around the country (both with and without blogs) who are committed to building this community of average supermoms by sharing our stories as real modern-day mamas. We each contribute an original, distinct flavor and style to this enterprise but together we are ‘MWOB.'” From the site’s about page:

Moms without Blogs is a place for moms and women to congregate together, support one another and gain strength in the knowledge that we are not alone when we feel oh so far from having it all together.

There’s a ton of information these days flying around at moms and moms-to-be about what we need to do or should be doing to be “good” moms.  So much in fact that sometimes it’s hard to hear the most important voice of all — our own.

This space in the blogosphere is made up of women who are working hard to embrace our feelings of inadequacy as mothers and to remind ourselves that it’s okay to have a bad day, it’s okay to not have an organic meal prepared for dinner, it’s okay to not have a blog where we write about our fabulous educational outings with our kids, it’s okay to not to have an innovative craft project planned for a Saturday afternoon, it’s okay to yell at our kids from time to time, it’s okay to have piles of dirty laundry in the hallway, it’s okay to feel buried by an avalanche of paper, it’s okay to not want to enroll our kids in a slew of classes to make sure they are “exceptional”, and it’s okay to admit that the happiest time of the day is the end of the day when the kids are finally asleep.

And most of all, our mission over here at MWOB is that, although there are external signs everywhere pointing us in all kinds of directions telling us what it means to be a supermom, we know that the real truth is…

“Being a supermom is simply a state of mind.” So get yourself in the right state of mind and spread the word.

Now THAT’S a little more like it, wouldn’t you say?

Oct 19

4 Comments

The miracles of attention and focus

Canadian painter Robert Genn has a twice-weekly newsletter that I always enjoy reading. While Genn writes about painting, his thoughts usually apply to any creative pursuit, including writing — and I have reposted his letters here before. This week’s newsletter is of use to all creative mothers, in our search for making the most of fleeting and sporadic windows of creative opportunity. (Genn’s newsletter is reprinted here by permission. Thanks again, Bob.)

During a recent short workshop, I reintroduced my legendary hourglass. Bought in a junk shop some years ago, its “hour” consists of only 37 minutes. Such is the deflation of time. The idea for the 25 participants was to complete a painting in one turn of the glass. To level the playing field, I asked for 11 x 14’s. A few students groaned; others readily accepted the challenge.

We did the exercise three times. I asked them to squeeze out first, contemplate for a tiny minute and make their painting either from reference, reality, or their imagination. Blowing my little whistle to start and stop, I was not surprised to find some painters did more than one in the allotted time. Students brought their quickies forward and laid them out in rows. At the end of the workshop more than 100 time-sensitive paintings had been produced. We’ve put a photo of the hourglass in action at the top of the current clickback.

Apart from producing a pile of credible, pleasantly-underworked paintings, the exercise showed the value of short periods of full attention and unwavering focus. The mind quickens and so does the spirit. The audacious brush flicks here and there; the work moves holistically into being. Students were energized by the exercise — feelings of fulfillment and satisfaction rippled through the room. I thought of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words: “To fill the hour — that is happiness.”

Countless times in my own studio, I’ve turned over my miraculous hourglass. Falling roof-rafters could not deter me from my 37-minute exercises. “Why don’t I just do this all the time?” I ask myself. Indeed, learning to focus and pay attention, if only for a short time, has been identified as a primary key to the development of human effectiveness.

I’m currently reading Winifred Gallagher’s new book Rapt: Attention and the Focused Life. She makes clear the simple value of training ourselves to focus. Our levels of concentration may be sullied or even vestigial in many of us, and the simple act of learning to pay attention is key to our dreams and aspirations. Happiness and success depend on it. Think a bit, grab your brush, time’s a wastin’. Toot!

Best regards,

Robert

PS: “I love deadlines. I especially like the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by.” (Douglas Adams) “Concentrate all your thoughts upon the work at hand. The sun’s rays do not burn until brought to a focus.” (Alexander Graham Bell)

Esoterica: “The Universal Society of Timed Painters” (USTP) ought to be established with chapters worldwide. No instructor need apply. Just get together and turn the glass. Keep doing it until pleasantly exhausted. Prizes may be awarded by popular vote at the end of the day, but the greatest prize of all will be your own increased levels of attention and focus.

I found Genn’s letter to be just what I needed to read right now. Writing or painting or doing anything creative “under the gun” forces you to turn off the editor and just produce. If your editor has taken over, a timed exercise such as Genn outlines above is just the ticket for getting back into the organics of your work. Baby just went down for a nap and the only thing you can count on is 30 minutes? Forget the laundry, turn off your internet connection, and go for it. You might get lucky: you find yourself in the groove and the baby ends up napping for an hour and a half. Or maybe you only get 20 minutes — but 20 minutes is still better than NOT 20 minutes, yes?

Oct 15

14 Comments

Kelly: Love Is Time

Partially cross-posted from my personal blog…

In my SLS class last night, we talked about values and time management and how our value structure plays a huge part in managing our time.  I show an inspirational video in each class, and the one I showed last night struck a chord with just about everyone in the room. Click here for the video. I showed it at the close of the class and at the end of it, I heard “awwww”s erupt from the room and then saw a few tears as they quietly filed out of the class.  It has the same effect on me every time I watch it, so I thought I’d share it with you here. It’s a good reminder that time is precious and you may never know the effect you have on another person, simply because you took an extra moment to connect. I think this rings so true to the message Brittany shared in her Creative Journey post.  Those boys will remember that day forever.

timeIt seems that we’ve all been traveling along similar paths and experiencing some of the same frustrations here lately, as evidenced by some of our posts. We all come at this combining motherhood and creativity challenge from a little different perspective, i.e. writers vs. visual artists vs. stay-at-home-moms vs. work-outside-the home moms, but as I mentioned in my rant to Cathy recently, the percentage of  stay-at-home-moms in the blogosphere seems to be very high. I’d wager that at least 80% of those who regularly subscribe to the Mom Blogger’s Club are stay-at-home-moms.

I was telling a friend of mine about my recent rant on Cathy’s post and she had an interesting perspective. She’s divorced, has no children, and is definitely not a creative type, but she most definitely never hesitates in speaking her mind. Her thoughts were that maybe instead of spending so much time on the computer blogging about how little time they have, they could be using that time to actually do something a little more productive. I know that suggestion may ruffle some feathers here, but I also know that the lesson didn’t escape me either. Regardless of where we work — in an actual office away from home or right there at home — maybe we all spend a little too much time complaining about how little time we have when we could be using that time more productively, like in my case anyway, spending more quality time with my girls. A bit reminiscent of our Someday is Today discussion, don’t you think?

Oct 14

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Mom Bloggers Club: Timing is everything

mombloggersclubaprilbannerfallNo offense, Mom Bloggers Club, but the recent post on My Favorite Writing Habits and Approaches left a few rather gaping holes.

This part was reasonable enough: “To develop your writing and/or passion, first make your presence with it a priority. It is simple. Make time and space for it.”

But this is all that the author has to offer for making that time and space:

TIME
Find the ideal pocket of time in your usual routine. Whether you develop a little bit of it daily or focus on it once every week, find the spot that is just right; one that flows with your energy.

Use this as a “rock” in your flow. Allow other things to move around it; keep it your priority.

I prefer mornings when the energy is fresh and it is more likely to be nice and quiet so that I can really be with my self and am not as easily distracted.

SPACE
Set up a space customized for developing your passion; one that is attractive to you and draws you in. Place all the essential tools customized for you and this project within easy reach. Make it so that it prompts your creative flow and feels great to be in.

Visit it every day, a few times. Even if just for a check in. Allow it to serve as a keystone to always keep you connected.

Uhm….what about the kids who are climbing up onto your lap with peanut-butter fingers, impaling their thumbs on your stapler and trying to electrocute themselves by sucking on the end of your PC’s power cord?

I think the topics of time and space merit more exposition. For content geared specifically to mothers, we need HELP. Well, I do, anyway. Perhaps, given that this post was directed toward bloggers, not “writers,” I’m being too harsh. I probably shouldn’t critique ANY attempt to be helpful. I’m sure the author has the best of intentions, and judging from the comments, there were those who found inspiration in the post. But considering that this piece was featured in the Mom Bloggers newsletter, I think there is room for a little more exploration.

Glossing over this terrain only adds to my existing frustration. There are mothers who want desperately to express themselves creatively — mothers who are crying in the frozen food aisle right this second, because they are so painfully separated from the creative part of themselves and can’t figure out how to reconcile the dichotomous pieces of their lives — and this kind of advice doesn’t really apply to them. When you have very young children at home — and limited resources — I don’t think that it’s as easy as finding a pocket of time in your usual routine (let alone a pocket that actually optimizes your biorhythms), and setting up some space for your work. Isn’t that the whole reason why this blog — our blog — has the following that it has? This stuff isn’t easy or simple, even though we wish it were. Maybe, for some women, it isn’t so complicated. Those are probably the women who have FINISHED their novels, too.

<sigh….>

Oct 13

4 Comments

Brittany: Creative Journey

*cross-posted from my personal blog*

Today was a good day.

We all have runny noses around here, and since the weather is pouring-down-crappy and there’ve been confirmed cases of swine flu at the preschool, I decided that was reason enough to let Sam play hooky today.

After John took his morning nap, the three of us went to paint pottery at a nearby studio, which has quickly become my go-to activity with Sam. The boy has some untapped artistic abilities, and he really seems to enjoy it. Sam and John worked in tandem on a Christmas gift (I can’t say for who because they might read my blog on occasion) and I bounced back and forth between them, pouring more paint and encouraging them to go nuts.

When I pictured motherhood, this is not what I saw of myself, strangely enough. I know I probably come across as artsy fartsy and free-wheeling, but I really have a hard time with the whole “going nuts” aspect of life.

If you think about it, all my hobbies have pretty stringent rules. There’s writing, with enough rules regarding structure, grammar, and spelling to give anyone a migraine. Embroidery, with its color-only-in-the-lines patterns, as well as the edict from above that the back should look as seamless as the front. And although I’ve tried it a couple of times, I’ve never been able to pull off anything but a realistic-looking doll.

In my personal life, too, I can’t look back on any period of my life and say “I was totally out of control then.” I attempted, on a few rare occasions, to get drunk and throw caution to the wind, but my conscious, an internal-harping-elderly-kill-joy quickly badgered me into returning to the straight and narrow. I’m just not comfortable saying “Do whatever you like.”

But I did it today.

The pottery the boys made today is going to look gorgeous after it’s fired, and it is 100% their work. I have a strict “Mommy-Hands-Off” policy when it comes to their artwork. And that is why there are drool marks in the paint, handprints, finger-painted swirls, drips, streaks, brush strokes, sponged dabs, and streams of colors not found in nature.

There is a saying for teachers — “The one who’s doing the work is doing the learning,” which basically means that if you want someone to learn something, you as the teacher must facilitate the experience, but then take a step back, and let your students do it, explore it, internalize it and learn it for themselves.

In stepping back, I’m learning a lot from my boys. Little boys can make stunningly beautiful objects with minimal supervision. There are no bounds to their creativity. They know how to go nuts. And they do it spontaneously and joyfully, just like they do everything else in life when they are allowed to act freely. It makes me happy watching all that joy pour out of them. They are overflowing with pleasure and satisfaction and a sense of “I did that” without feeling constrained by any pre-conceived notions.

It’s a lesson I should put to use in my own work. Lately, even though I have a new-and-improved plot for my novel, I have a pre-conceived idea in my head of what it should look and sound like, and I can’t even get an outline written that will translate to the page. I wish I wasn’t so overburdened with plans and could just let go and write.

But even though my own creative output has currently slowed to a trickle, I can feed my need to create, at least vicariously, by facilitating the boys’ creativity. It gives me the same rush as if I’d done the art myself, because art is all about exploring possibilities, and wherever my boys go, my heart travels with them.

Oct 12

8 Comments

The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood

dividedheartLast year, while trawling the web, I came across mention of Rachel Power’s The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood. The book’s scope was clearly related to my own work, so I immediately ordered a copy even though I had to order it directly from Red Dog, the Australian publisher. The book arrived in good stead — fat and enticing — but it took me nearly a year before making the time to read it while on vacation this August. I only wish I hadn’t waited so long.

Rachel Power explores the painful dichotomy that is inherent in being both a mother and an artist: “A divided heart; a split self; the sense that to succeed at one means to fail at the other.” Through profiles of professional creative women — many of whom are familiar names to an American audience — Rachel explores how the divided heart manifests for each artist. While every situation is different, there are undeniable — and affirming — commonalities. Rachel’s book is not prescriptive; rather it is an intimate exploration of what it means to be an artist and a mother.

The profiles are fascinating, but the most compelling parts of the book are the author’s introduction, first chapter, and conclusion — which are all personal and expository. Rachel Power is a beautiful writer, and her prose is brilliant and honest. Ultimately, I wished the book had included more of her own thoughts and analysis.

Here is an excerpt that will sell the book to this particular audience more than any reviewer’s pontification:

“I looked at the other mothers in the part in the hope of recognising something. But we were smiling, smiling, all noble silence. Inside, are you crushed? I wanted to ask them. Are you gazing at the planes that fly overhead with a barely disguised yearning? Are your legs restless to run? And then, do you see your child grinning proudly at you from the top of the slide and does your heart lurch? Does love storm through your body and cuase you to run toward that darling face as if you’ve never wanted anything more in your life?” (p. 15)

This, dear reader, is the divided heart. I know that you know it well. Fortunately, the book rings with optimism without glossing over the author’s premise: being an artist and a mother is inherently painful, but you CAN turn the experience into something beautiful and successful, if you try hard enough — and surrender to the rocky landscape. Rachel quotes Susan Rubein Suleiman: “…Any mother of young children…who wants to do serious creative work — with all that such work implies of the will to self-assertion, self-absorption, solitary grappling — must be prepared for the worst kind of struggle, which is the struggle against herself.”

The Aussie writer and blogger MamaMia (Mia Freedman) described The Divided Heart as “A book that changed my life” and posted a terrific interview with Rachel. In-depth blogger reviews abound; my favorites include Loobylu, PickleMeThis, and You can now order the book in hardcover through third parties at amazon, or a paperback via the publisher.

Rachel Power has her own blog, The Rachel Papers, which continues the conversation.

Without question, The Divided Heart is an important resource in our discussion and contemplation of motherhood and art.

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