Pause

These days I am feeling a little cracked and a lot weary.

Not the old cracked, the old weary. I am not drowning, and the cracks are not chasms.

Thank God.

This is not depression, but the reality of a busy season in life. And I'm not overwhelmed by the cracks or the weariness. I'm just accepting them as part of life right now and working out how to live with them.

And for the most part, it's just fine. But the writing . . . ah, the writing is suffering.

After several times of staring at the words and the screen, of typing and deleting and staring again, I decided to take a step back.

I'm too busy, my brain too full (or too empty). And I know these are not excuses, just the signs that, for this small season, the art must wait.

And that's okay.

I'm very pleased with what I've accomplished so far with my story. It's a small start--a very small start--but I think it's a good one. And it is not fear that is causing this pause, but wisdom, experience. And grace.

For as much as I am learning about discipline this year, I am also learning about grace.

Grace that flows through the cracks, that carries through the weariness, and that allows pauses. And I am confident that when this season has passed, when the grace has pooled up a bit instead of just flowing through, then the art will begin to flow and overflow again.

But for now, I just pause and let things rest.

**I would like to note that I wrote the part about waiting because of wisdom and not because of fear before I re-read Emily's post about waiting on the art (linked above) and realized she uses the exact. same. words. Love that.

The Discipline of Rest

It’s March, and my year of discipline is well under way.

I’m resisting the urge to judge how this is going. In an effort to avoid a checklist attitude and maintain my grip on the grace in all of this, I’ll refrain from breaking down everything into a “success” or “failure” category. Suffice to say that I feel I am growing in discipline, and I am benefitting from both the growth and the discipline.

I will share that Lent has been a particular challenge to me. I didn’t grow up in a Liturgical church, nor am I part of one now, but I have observed Lent (in one form or another) for the past few years, and it’s always a good exercise in discipline (and grace). Lent has been sort of a microcosm of the year so far.

In contemplating Lent, I’ve also been contemplating my commitment to discipline, evaluating some of my original goals and how they’re working out in real life. Some of the specifics of what I’m working toward have changed a bit, but the overall themes are still there. Health, spiritual discipline, writing. And over the past few weeks a new idea has been developing, one that, interestingly, seems to cross through all of those themes.

I’m contemplating the discipline of rest.

Over the past year or so I’ve read a few things on Sabbath rest. And then a few weeks ago a book review from Christianity Today struck home as I thought about it in light of discipline, particularly the part about “a rhythm where ‘the work takes on more meaning and the stopping takes on holiness.’”

Then the other day I read, “The minute you discipline time, you've entered the contemplative life. Practicing the Sabbath, honoring the liturgical calendar, spending time in prayer every day, resting—those are all practices that can lead to living the contemplative life.” 

This idea of disciplining my time to create a space for rest has resonated with me as I’ve worked a Sabbath into our week. And, in keeping with our overly busy culture, our Sunday is actually very full, with church in the morning, usually lunch afterwards, and individual activities for all three of the older kids in the afternoon. I wondered if all this activity really fit in with the idea of rest. After all, isn’t rest supposed to include a certain amount of doing nothing?

I talked to the kids about this in terms of chores (no chore Sunday!), although I would like to talk to them a bit further about rest and spirituality. The problem is that I don’t want to talk in terms of absolutes.

Sure, I can say “No chores on Sunday,” but if a chore truly needs to be done, or if that child didn’t get around to their chores on Saturday for legitimate reasons, then, yeah, they have to do their chores on Sunday. The same goes for homework.

And then there’s screen time. I could say, “No screen time on Sundays,” but what if we sit down to watch a family movie? And the same goes for other screens. My girls had a great time together goofing around on their iPods the other day—at a time when my girls having a great time together is a rare occasion.

And there’s something I’m discovering about myself in this pursuit of rest. I thought rest for me on Sundays would be about naps and doing nothing. But in the past few weeks I’ve found that there’s a great deal of mental rest to be found if I have a clean house by the end of Sunday. Yes, I want to work toward that on Saturday in hopes that there won’t be much work to do on Sunday. But there are 6 people in my house. A chore-free day ain’t gonna happen anytime soon. And I discovered that when I leave everything undone on Sunday in an effort to “rest” that I felt rather unrested the remainder of the week as I tried to catch up.

So while I want to use Saturday to get most of the weekend’s work done, I’m discovering that there’s a holiness and a rest that can accompany work, too. (After all, Jesus worked on the Sabbath.) I still want to establish a rhythm of physical work and physical rest, but I also have to work within the realities of our life right now.

All that to say, like much of the rest of my disciplines so far this year, I’m still figuring this Sabbath thing out.

What about you? How do you work rest into your day/week?

Go on, then

I mentioned a few weeks ago that one of the things I'm going to do this year is to write. I also mentioned that I'm not quite ready to do that yet because there's a lot of pre-writing work that needs to be done. True to my word, I read through my story and pulled out the parts I thought were worth saving. I am (oddly) okay with telling you that I ended up trashing about 99.8% of the original draft.

It's not all bad news. The overall plot and most of the characters have remained. But the entire feel of the story is going to be very, very different. I'm hammering out plot points that I was never quite sure of, I'm creating a mood board, I'm changing people's names, I'm reinventing my characters--   No, that's not quite right. I'm discovering who my characters really are. This is something I've struggled with for a few years, and I'm very pleased with how things are coming. They're characters, not caricatures anymore, and I like them better for it. Hopefully you will, too.

Writing, by J. Paxon Reyes

But the actual writing? Haven't started yet. And as I thought about it this morning, the old fear returned: the near-paralyzing dread that I will not be able to write the story the way it deserves; that it would be better, deeper, richer under someone else's hand; that I am not good enough.

I fear that I am not good enough.

And, oh, isn't this the human experience? We do not all fear being a bad writer, but we all have creeping feelings of inferiority from time to time. What if I'm not a good enough parent, a good enough spouse, a good enough friend, or employee. What if I fail? We have self-help books for a reason, after all. We all feel that we need help to be our best. We need to be told that we CAN do these things, and we feel that we need to be told HOW.

But there's another aspect to this fear, one that all writers know well: procrastination. After all, as I already mentioned, I haven't actually begun my rewrites just yet. I've been otherwise engaged. And this otherwise has kept me preoccupied. Excited, even.

But now that the writing part is staring me in the face, I feel the fear bubbling in my stomach. And I feel, as Anne Lamott says in her book Bird by Bird, "the tiniest bit resentful" about "the one fly in the ointment: that at some point we [have] to actually sit down and write."

So I return to words that I have stashed away in a folder, words of encouragement and admonishment, words that shore me up. (Because, truly, aren't words one of the great loves of my life?) This morning, I am finding solace and stimulation in these two points about writing from Gina Barreca, professor of English and feminist theory at the U. of Connecticut. 

First: "The perfect is the enemy of the good. You can rewrite, you can revise, you can refine, but the first thing you have to do is write. Of course what you write is going to be imperfect. The fun part, remember, is that what you think is good might turn out not to be (kill your darlings and all that), but more important, what you think is absolutely terrible might turn out to be a version of the most interesting idea you’ve come up with yet."

Write first, edit later. Oh, how often I have to be reminded of this.

And second, and perhaps most germane: "Only writing counts as writing. Long discussions over dinner, reading yet another piece of research, having yet another discussion over drinks, none of this counts as writing. Don’t kid yourself. Your dream-self, your cats, your dog, your spouse, your colleagues, your writing group, and your friends: None of them can write your book for you. Only you can do it. That’s the hard part, and that’s what’s great, and that’s what you need to do. Go on, then; get started.”

No one can write my book for me. Only I can do it.

So while I can't promise it will be today, soon--very soon--I will actually write.

Giveaway!

elcome to the first ever giveaway on Something Deep and Witty!

You might notice that newer posts look a wee bit different. Being a bit of a font-o-phile, I fell in love with the Daily Drop Cap site and thought I'd incorporate it here. But is it the right look for SD&W? I want to know your opinion.

Please take the poll on the right and let me know what you think. You have until Friday at midnight. THEN--and this next step is very important--leave a comment on this post letting me know you took the poll. At the end of the week, I'll randomly draw a winner from the comments section for a free download of Fount for Kindle. (Don't have a Kindle? Don't worry! You can read the book using Kindle for your PC.) The winner will be posted here on Saturday.

Good luck!

Fresh Start

few years ago--November of 2006, to be exact; six years ago--I wrote my first novel. (And also my only novel.) So much has happened since and because of that month, and you can read about it all over my blog: discovering that I am a writer, right now; self-publishing said novel for personal use; adding a story line; rewriting and fretting over my little story; publishing some completely different, totally separate stories (which are still on sale!).

But all of that is not what this post is about. This post is about Draft Two. Or Three. Or something.

(And let me just say, Six years?!? Has it really been six years?!?)

I have known for a long time that my story is not complete. I still, after all this time, do not have a title that I like. (Seriously, folks, A Fairy Tale (With No Fairies) is just not cutting it.) I never did finish writing the story line of the bad guy. I want more action, more intrigue, more character development. I want less silliness and more cleverness; less rambling and more sophistication. I want something much more complete.

And this is fair, and good, and right. What I have, after all, is a *very rough* first draft.

But every time I have begun work on revisions for the story, I run into this paralyzing inertia. I've been sending myself story notes in emails for years (because where else should I store all these random notes?). I have notes and notes and notes, I just don't know how to work them in. There are several very big plot points that I have not yet resolved in my own mind, so how do I write them? And then when I read the story, I am overwhelmed and do not know where to start making changes. I get heart palpitations at the prospect of deleting this entire page/section/chapter and you've never encountered writer's block this intense and, oh good grief, just burn the whole thing.

Not conducive to completing the project.

But a month or so ago, my NaNoWriMo writing buddy and lifelong friend, Angie, sent me a link to this blog post. The author writes about how she wrote her bestselling novel, Bitterblue (really? This is the book? I didn't realize THAT was the book she was talking about! My girls are reading this series!). She had this big, lumbering first draft, and her editor gently suggested that she consider starting all over. You need to read the post to get the full gist, but as I was reading, something clicked.

Because this is what I had been considering for a while, that I should set aside the first draft and just start over. Retain the plot and the main characters, of course, but ditch much of what I had written. Some of it is great, and I can pull it in when needed. I am NOT deleting anything permanently, mind you. At this point I have at least 3 drafts/versions of the story saved because I am so unwilling to delete anything. But the substantial revisions and changes that the story needs--and that I need in order to finish writing it--demand a fresh start, not a continued spinning of my editing wheels.

So as part of my year of discipline, I am revisiting Fairy Tale. I have committed to some specific time that I will spend reading through the most recent draft, just as a means of refreshing my memory. It's been a long time since I've lived in that world, and I need to get comfortable there again. And during this re-read, I'm not going to look for what needs to be changed or improved or trashed. I'm just going to pay attention to the good, to the jewels worth keeping. And then, I'm going to write, starting fresh.

So thanks, Angie & Kristin Cashore, for showing me that I'm not crazy. Thanks for giving me the courage to tackle this beast anew.

Wish me luck.

One Word: Discipline

ave you heard of One Word 365? The idea is to pick a word for the year that encompasses your goals, a word that will guide your year. My friend Felicity did this last year, and as she wrapped up her year of "dare," I was intrigued.

What would my word be, if I were to choose one?

I thought and thought, and nothing came to me. Well, a few things came to me, but they were just . . . not quite right.

*******

As 2012 wrapped up, I considered buying the Jesus Calling devotional for my kids. I've been trying different things to get them to develop their own relationship with the Lord. I've tried creating packets of Bible verses for them, leaving space for them to write their thoughts. They literally wrote "I don't know what to write." Hmm.

We've tried doing something in the mornings, evenings, afternoons (during the summer). Nothing has really stuck, nothing has felt quite like it would work on a long-term basis. We did a Jesse Tree together during Advent (until the flu hit our house) and that went moderately well. So I was looking for a way to continue something into the new year.

A few families I know have kids who've read through the Jesus Calling for kids. I liked the idea of something that would guide my kids in their time. Reading verses on their own with no explanation or direction seemed to leave them frustrated (see above). So I checked out the book for kids, and then because I thought the girls might balk at being called "kids," I looked at the one for teens, too. I actually much preferred the version for kids. (Can I take a moment to tell you how much I love the preview function on Amazon? I've bought two books in the past 2 weeks because I was able to read through it before buying. Love.)

I also picked up the original version of Jesus Calling that a friend gave me a few years ago. I felt like I should work through it alongside the kids, fully understanding that I will not do all 365 devotionals, but also enjoying the ability to pick up with the current date should I miss some days. I haven't used a devotional in years, but as I was reading through a few pages, it felt relevant and right.

********

Over the Christmas break, I began formulating a few New Year's Resolutions in my mind. Most of them had to do with eating and exercising, mainly because I knew I was doing far too much of one and far too little of the other during the break. At the same time, I and my family were sick off and on for the last 3 weeks of December, so I was able to cut myself a little slack. And nurse a little more to make up for the summer sausage, cheddar cheese, and Ritz crackers that composed most of my lunches. Oh, summer sausage, how I love thee. And yet why are you mostly available in the winter?

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I went out to eat with some girlfriends the other night and we closed the joint down. Ok, so the joint was Chili's, and I was home by 11, but 5 hours of talking and laughing and eating was utterly fabulous. One of the things we discussed was freedom. We talked, and I've since thought further, about how the essence of freedom is not "freedom to" but "freedom from." Too often we think about being free to do something. When we were young we used to talk about all the things we would do when we were old enough. Old enough to drive, go to college, drink, vote, get married, buy a house, etc. We would finally be free to . . . . And yet, how often does our "freedom" to do something lead to enslavement of another kind? Not always, of course. But even when our freedoms to do are healthy things, we often end up just longing for the next thing, never content with where we are. And so freedom is not about what we get to do, but about what no longer holds us captive. Very often we need freedom from ourselves.

As I was mulling over these things, I came across a quote from C.S. Lewis on Twitter that said, "Obedience is the road to freedom . . . "

********

On January 5, the one-year anniversary of my father's death, the house was quiet. Some of the kids were still at sleepovers, another was at a movie with Aaron, one was down for his nap. I spent some time reading through the devotional for that day, reading some Scripture, praying, writing in a journal. It was my first time of quiet contemplation in this new year. And through writing down and refining my "resolutions" for the new year, I came to see them not as obligations, but as steps of obedience--the obedience that leads to freedom.

As I worked through the devotional over the next couple of days, those steps of obedience, and the reasons behind them, coalesced into a single word.

Discipline.

This year, I am working toward physical, mental, and spiritual discipline. Too often I am enslaved to my desires. I don’t want to make dinner, I want to eat 73 cookies; I don’t want to exercise, I want to sit on the couch all night; I don’t want to engage my brain, and I don’t want to get off Facebook; I want to write but I don't want to put in the time and brainpower required to actually do it. Too often I give in to the whim of the moment and, by so doing, I sacrifice an ultimate happiness, an ultimate satisfaction that I know would come by doing what I ought. And it’s not about the ought—it’s not about a checklist or following some rules. It’s about doing the things within my power—the things I am called and nudged to do—to help bring about good in my life.

It's about developing discipline. Pardon me as I slip into valedictorian speech mode, but Webster's dictionary defines discipline as "training that corrects, molds, or perfects the mental faculties or moral character." That is what I want: to mold and perfect my actions, attitudes, and thoughts. This year, I am expecting to move toward a more fulfilled life as I work out some specific disciplines. I may write about some of it here, and I may not (although one of my disciplines does involve carving out writing time in my day). Either way, I look forward to what this year holds.

What about you? Do you have any resolutions or disciplines you're working on this year? Is there a word you want to live by in 2013?

Confession, and a prayer

onfession time: when I hear or read about someone having a book contract, or a book being published in the next few months, or a manuscript due to their editor in a week, or anyone in any way making a living as an author, I am jealous.

I want to be purely happy for those people. They have worked hard to get there and are working hard to stay there. From what little experience I have, I know the peculiar mixture of joy and agony involved in writing. I know it is not dreams and cotton candy. It is work.

But instead of being all, "Good for you!" I'm all, "What about me?" I can't help it. I get a knot in my stomach, the hint of tears in my eyes, an ache in my bones.

I want that.

I want writing to be my home, the place I return to daily, the place I work out my life. I want it to be comfortable and uncomfortable, as only writing can be. I want to dance with the muse and wrestle with the words. I want to have the luxury and limitation of writing as a job.

And if it were a reliable source of income, hey! Bonus!

But writing is none of those things for me right now. It's just a side note. It's an infrequent vacation spot.

And so I smile begrudgingly for the income-generating writers, take a breath, and work to trust.

I work to trust that I am where I am supposed to be. To "...consider Immanuel, the with-ness of God, right where we are, not where we wish we were instead." And, truly, I am good with where I am. I'm not unhappy.

But I am a wee bit afraid. Because in the midst of the contentment in now, there is a lingering fear. What if this is all there is? What if my dreams only ever remain dreams? Will there be a time for the writing? A time devoted to making art?

Will there be time at all?

I had a dream once, of singing. Except to me it wasn't a dream. It was a reality. It was going to happen. I was going to put in the time and the work, and I was going to be a professional singer.

Except, as you may have noticed, it didn't happen. Singing is now something I still enjoy, but I do it only occasionally, and not as well as I once did. And I miss it.

There's a long story behind all of that, but the point is, I'm afraid that writing will become my new singing. I think that fear is where the sadness and the jealousy come from.

But instead of giving in to the spiral of doubt and self-pity, I point myself back to the with-ness of God. I remember the Christmas Child come to dwell with me, and reach deep for his trust and contentment and patience.

And I pray, "Oh God, gather me now to be with you as you are with me.

Soothe my tiredness;
quiet my fretfulness;
curb my aimlessness;
relieve my compulsiveness;
let me be easy for a moment.

O Lord, release me
from the fears and guilts which grip me so tightly;
from the expectations and opinions which I so tightly grip,
that I may be open
to receiving what you give,
to risking something genuinely new,
to learning something refreshingly different.

Forgive me
for claiming so much for myself
that I leave no room for gratitude;
for confusing exercises in self-importance
with acceptance of self-worth;
for complaining so much of my burdens
that I become a burden;
for competing against others so insidiously
that I stifle celebrating them
and receiving your blessing through their gifts.

O God, gather me to be with you as you are with me.
Amen."