A Win and a Beginning

There’s a magic to this NaNo business that I need to get a handle on in the next few days. It’s a clear and obvious sort of magic, but I haven’t yet learned to make it work for me.

This is my second year participating in National Novel Writing Month, and I’ve gotten so much from it. The month and the challenge – to produce a 50,000 word draft of a novel – will be over tomorrow, and I already have my technical Win. Like last year, it was a tremendous success for me. I started the month with an idea, and over the last four weeks I’ve worked and built on that idea and have sketched out a novel that’s full of ideas and substance. And I’m very happy with this beginning. I hope that the parallel to last year ends here. Because then, I barely advanced with the work over the course of the following eleven months. The mindset that worked so well in November evaporated, and I never figured out how to get it back.

What’s obvious is that it has to do with a deadline and a commitment. Both this year and last, starting with those two elements and a good idea, I was able to force myself to the keyboard multiple times each day, and to press to add an average of 1,667 words to the manuscript each day. After November ended, I wasn’t able to do so. And now, after having re-visited that very productive mindset, I’m at least a little clearer about what shifted that I can’t allow to shift this time around.

During Nano, I’ve granted myself permission to fail. I keep writing even when I don’t believe in what I’m writing, out of the commitment to get the words out and to hit the 2,000 daily that I aim for. I sometimes feel flat, uninspired, a little bored or even miserable as I’m producing those words. Because I don’t feel I’m writing well. The inner critic is very present and very loud in my head, telling me with every key stroke that I’m producing crap.

But rarely does it turn out to be crap. There’s always something there that I can use. Some few sentences, or a description, a character or an insight give me material that actually carries the work forward, that successfully fills in a gap in the narrative, the plot, or in the guts of the piece that I was trying to fill. Which then fuels me to push on, so I go through the entire thing again.

In normal time, there are several ways in which my process would differ. First of all, I typically don’t force myself to keep writing when I feel that I’m writing crap. I might go at it for a short while, but rarely beyond two or three hundred words. And if I do press on, it’s generally going to be with a fresh start, after abandoning what I’ve done that I don’t feel good about. I don’t write far enough through that pain of ‘writing crap’ to have anything to look back on the next day, something I might realize isn’t as useless as I thought it was.

Another difference is that during these Novembers I’ve been able to really put off any editing. I start the month knowing that I won’t be doing any through the entire month. It is really ‘out of mind’. So I continue writing free, able to think of it all as play, experiment, exploration, knowing that in the editing process I may change any or everything.

What it comes down to is that Nano incentivizes me to write much looser than I normally permit myself. And in the looseness lies the magic. I allow ideas to intrude sentence by sentence, make up characters on the fly, bring in or ignore key elements, or zig where I intended to zag just moments before.

Already, I’m feeling the signals of approaching anxiety that’s of a totally different flavor than anything I’ve felt all month. I did feel anxiety during the month, but forced myself to write through it. As I’ll have to force myself through the tightness that’s threatening now. I feel optimistic because I have a better understanding of it than I did last year. And the greatest gift of NaNo is the self-confidence it inspires. It’s amazing to have a rough draft of a novel where a month ago there was barely a scenario. It inspires great faith in the creative process and in my ability to enter into it. Every Day. And day by day.

An Odd Birthday

Today is a kind of birthday. I’m two thirds of a century old. Somehow, shortly after rising this morning, much earlier than usual but fully awake, the significance of the day popped into mind.

Odd, yes. Exactly 66 years and eight months, two thirds of a century pie. I LOVE it.

Maybe the reason I caught the date is because I have a very clear memory of the same happening when I hit the one third century mark. It must have been 25 July 1987 and I was in Seattle. I was – at the time I made the calculation – in a vehicle heading north, with my love of the time and one or two others that I can’t remember. Thirty-three years and 4 months old, I was.

And what did I think of that then? I guess that it seemed a good age to be. I was realizing that I wasn’t young anymore, in the way I had been. And a prediction by an old friend occurred to me: he’d said I’d ‘settle down’ by the time I was thirty-five. I guess he meant ‘get serious’.

He should’ve given me this other third of a century; it’s what I’ve taken, anyway. I think I’ve finally done it though. And if I haven’t gotten serious, I’ve at least gotten a lot more focused.

I’m lately re-discovering the power of promises I can make to myself. I’ve been reacquainting myself with that tool recently, not to hold away the distractions and temptations, exactly, but to press on and do what I committed to anyway. And I’m committed to living leaner these future days than I have my past ones. It’s a big advantage, a gift I can give myself.

Another promise was to do NaNoWriMo again this year, as it helped me so much last year. And it’s been amazing again, and has refreshed my vision and optimism about writing throughout the year.

Thanksgiving is here in the States, and I wouldn’t mind some time there. But the Hammer, here in Canada is home and I’m glad I don’t have that particular set of heightened stresses to deal with. My brother and family are in Atlanta, Georgia, in the state that was such a key flip in the recent election, and that is about to hold the final two nationally significant elections of the cycle. And right in the middle of the Covid explosion.

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday. All about actively enjoying the blessings. It’s probably always been a bit too much about indulging, and not enough about being thankful. But enjoyment is a full and direct expression of appreciation, anyway. So long as we’re aware of how blessed we are in having whatever it is we have to enjoy. Even when a lot of pain and lack comes with it. It’s a great strength to be able to thank. It’s a rich and an enriching experience.

Thanks forward, too, for whatever may be coming next. 

Trumpocalypse 3.0

    Version 1.0 was the takeover of the Republican Party with hardly a whimper of resistance.

    Version 2.0 saw Trump winning control of the executive branch of the US, and beginning to impose his will across the nation and the world. That period - thankfully - appears to be coming to an end. But the nightmare won't be over for some time yet.

    The new version of Trump that is emerging - version 3.0 - promises to be as chaotic and disrupting as the others - maybe more so. This latest version, which was unveiled at about 3 am on 4 November, the day after his defeat and removal from office was officially set into motion, is the manifestation of the terrified loser that Donald Trump has apparently dreaded being for his entire life.

    One of the characteristics of Trump that emerged during 2.0 is his need to respond to failure, rejection and criticism with destructive vengeance. And as soon as he found himself on the verge of becoming the biggest loser of all time - victim of the largest voter turnout in US history - he turned his full attention to attacking those entities responsible for his public humiliation with everything he has.

    His first targets: the democratic party and the electoral system that are bringing him down. Starting with the early morning press conference, in which Trump claimed victory long before all votes were counted and accused the Democratic party of fraud, Trump made clear his willingness to intentionally poison his followers' faith in the institutions that sustain them.

    Over the course of the last three days, Trump has done what no other losing presidential candidate in memory has ever done: he's appealed to the most gullible and loyal of his supporters, with lies that his opponents are trying to do what he in fact is trying to do - steal an election. He calls them out to put everything on the line to support what he is willing to destroy, in an attempt to retain the power slipping through his fingers.

    And my fear is that, after the final votes have been confirmed, and his loss of the presidency is clear, he will do what is in his power to sabotage the Biden administration, regardless of the harm it will do his supporters.

    Am I paranoid? Over-reacting? Falling into the bottomless pit of conspiracy thinking? I may be. Trump's insults, threats, accusations and dog whistles, and the unthinking acceptance by Trump nation of his every lie, have me dreading the worst of which Americans are capable.

    There's a silver lining of fresh hope. Actually, it's an enormous opening of possibility stretching into the future. Maybe, just maybe, Biden will restore some sanity to the political realm in the US. I'm actually very happy just now. I was near despair when Trump made his pronouncements the other morning, but by the time I woke, Wisconsin and my home state of Michigan were beginning to trend in the right direction. Since then, through endless hours spent following the developments, one state after another has shifted into Biden's column.

    But Trump isn't going to dissolve like a bad dream. Version 3.0 is newly activated, its ego has been badly damaged, and it's out for vengeance. And it has over two months remaining in power to stir up the chaos it so loves. May we all survive its infectious madness.

Another Go at NaNo!

Last year, my most productive writing by far occurred during National Novel Writing Month. It was quite a surprise, especially since I only decided on it a couple of weeks before it started and began with only a very vague idea for a novel.

I wrote every day but one last November, reached my goal of over 50,000 words, and best of all, wound up with perhaps three quarters of a novel that I was very pleased with. I'd been stuck so long in editing and re-writing projects that have dragged on for way too long, that going at a fresh idea with little expectation, but with the commitment to churn out the words, no matter what, was extremely liberating.

Trouble is, when November ended, I let my efforts slow, and before long, it all came to a halt. Clearly, it was all psychological - both the creative burst and the flat-lining. And, unfortunately, I don't yet understand myself enough to keep myself as active and productive as I'd like to be.

But November is here again, and I'm feeling some of the same sense of excitement and optimism that I felt this time last year. I'm going to go at it, unconcerned about ultimate quality, but alert to the trickle of ideas and motivations that materialized daily during NaNo 2019.

However it goes, I'm extremely grateful to the organization and the volunteers and other participants who make Nano happen. However much I don't understand about how and why it worked for me, it's very clear that Community and Structure were key. I don't expect it to be the same experience as last year (when there was neither Covid nor an Election with the fate of the World riding on it to distract) but I already know that it'll be good!

Actually, I'm realizing that another big factor in last year's success was Trust. Trust in the creative process and the very act of writing. Barbara, a member of my first writing group, used to say about all problems that come up in creative writing, "Work it out on the page!" And she was right. Part of last year's wonder - which I let myself forget come December - was how the subconscious always came through when I simply sat down to write without having already worked out what I was going to write.

So here's to Trusting enough for the writing to be an act of Creative Freedom!

Just Voted!

I just got confirmation that my ballot for the 2020 US Election has been received, my signature has been verified, and my votes have been tabulated. 

I am both a Canadian and a US citizen. I vote in both countries and my US voting home is Seattle, Washington. (for a 2016 post, about the character and substance of an election in the US, go to https://obsidianblooms.blogspot.com/2016/11/)

Like much of the World, I'm caught up in the Trump-Biden contest and think it will mark a sharp fork in the forward course of history, however it turns out. I've been pretty pessimistic about the wisdom of Americans, and fearful of a wave of violence that I think is very possible. But my mood has shifted beyond hope toward optimism during these last weeks. I haven't written the letters or made the calls I intended - any of the actual grunt work of shifting the mildly interested and the borderline unaware into action, into voting. But I've been involved via my thinking and speaking and writing. And whether or not it makes any kind of difference, I'm seeing and feeling so much how the life of an individual is wrapped up in the life of the communities to which they belong. We are such social creatures, and that biological fact, that matter of our wiring, will always have its way with us, with our feelings, our needs, our decisions about what's important. Who we are collectively can't help but mirror who we are individually, in all our unique and multiple glories.

I had some powerful lessons on the impact of individual character on communal character during my years in social work.  For a number of years I worked in public schools, working with some of those students whose didn't manage to thrive in their school environments, and it was a revelation to learn how much these environments reflected the personalities of the principals.

In both Seattle and Toronto I was able to make direct comparisons between pairs of schools with different types of leaders.

One of the Seattle schools had a principal who was always at the front doors in the morning and when the day ended, interacting with students, most of whom she knew by name. She was in and out of classrooms and in the halls. She created an atmosphere of connection and empathy throughout the school community. Even the 'behavioral problems' I worked with liked, respected and felt supported by her. And the teachers all felt that she was aware of the challenges they faced and knew that they could extend themselves and try new things without fear of being unfairly penalized anytime something went wrong.

The principal of the other Seattle school, on the other hand, was almost always in his office or downtown currying favor with the central administration. He was lauded for having 'pull' and for getting resources that other schools didn't, but the price was huge. The entire school atmosphere was weighed down by stress and worry. Teachers felt isolated and on-guard and few were willing to try anything beyond making sure that they met all mandated requirements, whether they had anything to do with actually teaching and supporting their students or not. The student body was chaotic, with a much higher rate of disciplinary problems than the other school, and with problems that reached a higher level of seriousness.

The differences in the Toronto schools was equally stark. One considered itself a 'community school'. The principal was often in the halls and classrooms, as a smiling, supportive presence. But he was also often out of the building, but within the community, working with government and community agencies on issues that directly affected the school community. And these other agencies, including my own, were situated throughout the building, on a daily or weekly basis, providing almost a supplementary staff. Parents were always in the building as well, either supporting teachers in classrooms, or getting services themselves, like ESL lessons or food supplements.

The other Toronto school was like a fortress. Gaining admission to work with students involved an elaborate process. I was one of very few outside professionals who was ever in the building; few of the other community agencies had any presence what-so-ever. One notable exception was that the principal sometimes called in the police. On one occassion, they entered a classroom to handcuff and remove an eighth-grader on the spot. This principal, while often in the halls, was there purely as a disciplinarian, to intimidate the children into obedience. Neither they nor the school staff felt supported.

These 'side' effects of leadership in schools parallel those we see on the national and international levels. Leadership by Trump has stimulated the energies of fear, conflict and mistrust throughout America. Even if one accepts what his supporters acclaim as accomplishments, they have come at an enormous price, which they could not deny if they allowed themselves to see. And I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that another four years of the Trump administration could erode what's good about the US beyond the point of repair. He's a principal who has allowed the heart and soul of the nation to become diseased. Or rather, he's allowed the disease - that is present in any community to some degree - to take hold, spread and begin to damage the vital organs. It's so fitting that he may be ushered out by a viral disease that so perfectly mirrors the spiritual disease he has weaponized and brought with him to the most powerful and important role on the planet.

I'm very excited by the numbers I'm hearing from the daily newscasts, reflecting record-shattering early and absentee voting, and hinting at a potentially historic turnout. My own voting, by the way, was done entirely by email. I submitted my signed package with a click, and then tracked it through receipt, examination, signature verification and tabulation, all within about 16 hours. Amazing.

We may be about to emerge from a national horror. May we do so, and Learn from it.

The Courage Required

          People are always being celebrated for their courage and heroism for doing the accepted and expected thing. Soldiers, police and 1^st responders, most of all, are cited for heroically carrying out their jobs. But these are, in fact their jobs, and jobs they have volunteered for and been trained to do. It’s laudable when they do these jobs well and with commitment, but I don’t think that this, in and of itself, earns them the designation ‘hero’.

          What I think is far more courageous is to do the unexpected and even the un-accepted, for a good that transcends your own, personal interest. So the people I want to call attention to in these troubled times, are the life-long republicans who are speaking out against Donald Trump.

          Personally, I don’t really think it should be a difficult thing to be anti-Trump. To me, the man is so obviously narcissistic, grossly immature, morally vacuous and deeply ignorant that I continue to find it hard to believe that he developed a following in the first place. But what I do understand is that many people, while recognizing all of these deficits, were so committed to particular policy positions, such as a conservative Supreme Court, the repeal of Roe v. Wade, and gun rights, that they calculated that a vote for Trump was an acceptable price to pay. I don’t agree with these conservative positions, so it’s very easy for me to reject Trump for these reasons on top of his character flaws. But I can see how difficult a calculation I’d have to make if Trump and Biden’s policy positions reversed.

          So I want to applaud and thank republicans such as those behind the Lincoln Project, who recognize that the current election is a matter of choosing between Trump and America. They see what a caustic effect Trump’s presidency is having on the most fundamental characteristics of American democracy, things like ease of voting, independence and trust in the courts and the media.

          But I also recognize that many republicans who turn from Trump will pay a heavy cost. Some are being rejected by their communities and their friends. Some will suffer in their professional lives. And some will live with a deep sense of doubt, having turned against the candidate most likely to further their most valued policy beliefs. This is real courage and heroism. And I’m appreciative.

Magic Cities

Awhile ago, I was sitting in Allen Gardens when a friend appeared. We hadn't seen one another for some time, so she stopped to visit with me, and we had a good, meandering talk in the cool of a Fall afternoon. My friend is one of those people whom I felt a pleasant connection to almost immediately upon meeting. There's a sure sense not only of enjoying her company, but knowing too that she enjoys mine. So meeting is always a pleasure. I feel that she carries a spark of magic.

Our connection has never gone beyond our casual meetings, but I feel that it easily could. So much so that, if she and I weren't both married, I would absolutely want to explore our possibilities. And perhaps that explains why we've allowed our meetings to remain random and unpredictable.

So here we were, on a perfect day, in a beautiful setting, relaxed and with no sense of expectation. And we chose to speak of cities. Which was the perfect complement to all the other elements. Because, just like special days, special places and special people, there are cities that possess qualities that are in no way exceptional, that may not stand out on their own, but that when combined is a particular way - including the ingredient of he or she who gets to behold it - becomes something magical.

We both came to Toronto about twenty-five years or so ago, she from a small community in Quebec, close to Montreal, and me from Seattle. Neither of us was very impressed with Toronto upon arrival, but we each discovered - after two or three years - that it is special in a number of ways. But we also agreed that, though Toronto has become, and we suspect will remain, Home, it is not a city that we would ever designate as magical. And we agreed that Montreal, on the other hand, is a magical city. This didn't mean for either of us that we'd rather be in Montreal than here in Toronto. Nor did it mean that we were sentenced to carry a regret for the rest of time, that we'd accepted living out our existence in a place as un-magical as Toronto. It was simply the recognition of a special and rare quality that sets some places apart from others.

Cities that I've felt this magical quality about, and that I've been blessed to live in, include New York and San Francisco. Others that I'm sure have this quality, and that I'd love to spend more time in, to confirm, are Paris, New Orleans, Prague, Krakow and Old San Juan.

And just as is the case with Toronto, there are cities I have personal history and strong connections with, that I've come to love, but to which I wouldn't attribute this same sort of magic. These include Boston, Seattle, Chicago and Berlin.

I wonder what other people think and feel about this: about the presence or absence of something very special in certain people and places; something not easily defined or quantified, but that is somewhat above and beyond the ordinary, the natural; something that speaks to spirit.

I'd love to learn what other people consider to be magical cities. I haven't travelled nearly as much of the World as I'd like, and it would be great to add some other special places to my list. I hope you'll be willing to share!