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The Good Life

I have mused often about what I want to be when I grow up. The answers I come up with are usually pretty vague – “a writer” or “someone who feeds people” or “professional student.” On the one hand, I know what I love. On the other hand, I don’t always know how to turn desired work into desired pay. There are a lot of jobs that involve a great deal of my desired activities, but I view most of them with a general attitude of “meh.”

The Friday before Spring Break, however, I got a taste of what it would be like for my loves to come together.

Part of the resident assistant job in Housing is to put on programs to foster hall community. One of the RAs wanted to have a cooking program, and she invited me to be a part of it. We decided that I would teach people to make a basic risotto. I took them through the process, showing them what it was supposed to look like at every step and giving them options they could add along the way. Then I gave them a one-page handout with the recipe and a summary of what they had learned at the end. It was a great afternoon.

The experience of actually enjoying these hours at work helped clarify some things for me.

1. I like teaching. I often get bogged down in the issues that plague our educational system, such as the red tape and the funding issues and the general lack of public understanding about what education is, but I like teaching. I like guiding people into learning something that they are interested in learning.

2. I like public speaking. I like finding ways to connect to an audience. Positive audience response is gratifying, and negative audience response is informative. When the audience doesn’t see the value in what they’re learning, though, it’s a rough day for both of us.

3. I like helping people discover what they have to say.  Whether it’s in writing or in speaking, I love that moment when people hear how their voice sounds for the first time – not the snarky defense mechanism that often makes up a big part of their social selves and thus their first attempts at expressing a viewpoint – but their real voice. I like teaching them how to turn that voice into a force to be reckoned with.

4. I like writing. Sometimes I feel like I don’t like writing. Usually when that happens, though, it’s because I’m trying to make what works for other people (Write every day! Have ten minutes – do some writing! Always, always be thinking about it!) work for me. I am an efficient writer, but I am not a multitasker. If I can do one thing at a time, I can get a lot done, but trying to juggle multiple things tends to derail all of them. My most productive writing structure requires me to set aside specific writing time. Handouts, blog posts, short essays – give me an hour or two, and I can sit down and churn one of those bad boys out, all the way from conception to a second or third draft (which is what you get from most of my blog posts). I can do that almost daily, but I need to find a space for it on the calendar. Longer works, like novels or longer essays/essay collections, don’t just take longer to write but also require longer stretches of time for me to make progress. There’s no sitting down to write for an hour on Fishbowl. All that’s going to do is give me just enough time to get a good writing pace going, and then I have to interrupt it to do the next thing in my schedule. Very frustrating. Small pockets of time are better used brainstorming writing ideas or art journaling. I need writing blocks, not writing moments. And as I am single with zero children, I have the ability to schedule them with relative ease.

None of this is brand-new information, but it helps with my weekly goal-setting. It reminds me what the good life looks like for me and how easy it would probably be for me to make it a habit.

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[I always feel weird saying I’m writing “haiku,” because while I can totally do the 5-7-5 thing, there’s a nuance to it that I miss because I don’t know Japanese. Part of me wants to learn Japanese just so I can write proper haiku. Maybe that will be my goal for my 50th year.]

My Facebook page has informed me that the “113 people who like Suzanne Terry, Writer, haven’t heard from you in a few days.” It’s just been 5 days, Facebook.  Calm down.

The problem this week has not been writer’s block. I don’t often have that problem. I can produce some words. The problem is producing words that anyone else would want to read. So this is one of those weeks where I have oodles of content but nothing ready to share. It’s like all the words are locked away for safekeeping.

Writer’s lock, I guess.

But here’s what I can do. I can unlock a few words and give you my week in haiku(ish) form.


Monday, a liar

Easy lulled tranquility

Leaving unprepared


 Tuesday, a charmer

Books, wine, and friends – piece of cake

Sunshine in my hair


Wednesday, a chaos

Spinning, dancing, speaking, rush

Untimely dew spritz


Thursday, a fresh breeze

Calm madness of life and work

Friends gift friends coffee


Friday, a welcome

Whatever comes, light follows

Into shadow night

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I’m over at Miah’s place today, talking about art and fear. Hop over there and read!

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This year is going to be a great year, if for no other reason than I’m turning 40, and I plan to be obnoxious about it – even more obnoxious than I usually am. I already celebrate for a whole week. This year, I’m celebrating the whole year. I almost made “forty” my OneWord365. The only thing that stopped me is that there aren’t many songs that fit that theme, and I’m going to need a playlist.

But it’s totally in the back of my mind. It’s going to be a focus, even if it’s not the main focus. I can just tell.

As with every year, I have writing goals, reading goals, and one word that will be my theme of the year.

Writing:

1. Write an average of 5,000 words toward a work in progress per week. That’s 5-10 hours a week. That’s 260,000 words. That’s finishing Feast and Fishbowl and getting a good chunk of another project, whatever it will be, off to a good start.

2. On the blog, I’d like to continue some series, start some new ones, and get some more guest posts. I would like to consistently post three times a week, even in weeks when I’m feeling quiet, which means writing posts ahead of time and getting them scheduled. I just want to be more organized and intentional about it.

Reading – three sets of 40:

1. 40 books by people of color. In examining the diversity of my influences (friends, music, things I read, etc.), I do okay in most areas. My blog reader is especially diverse; only about 20% of the bloggers I read are white/straight/middle-class/etc. You know – me-ish. There is room for improvement across the board, though, and nowhere is this more obvious than in my book list from 2014, which is remarkably whitewashed. This year, I am going to be more intentional about diversifying my reading list, and I’m going to start with race as the diversifying factor.

2. 40 classics. Every time I see lists of 100 pieces of classic literature that pop up (you know the ones – the braggy ones that show up on your well-read friends’ Facebook pages that encourage you to compare your reading list to theirs), I can’t even say that I’ve read a majority of them. And I know that comparison is the thief of joy, but I also suspect that when I watch The Newsroom, I would probably enjoy it more (assuming that’s even possible) if I had a better grasp of Don Quixote. I also know that reading works that stand the test of time will assist in teaching me to write works that stand the test of time, and I am very much interested in that.

3. 40 miscellaneous books – just for fun. I am including a third category to pay homage to all those books I read as part of book clubs and lazy days off and other such times. I also think that fun is an important element of reading, particularly this year, because fun is my word of 2015.

Theme – fun:

My first thought when choosing my one word for this year was “responsible.” After all, I just spent a year chasing beauty. Gorgeous, lovely, magical beauty. So my reaction to that was that I should follow it up with something more serious. Something to bring me back down to earth. Not that I ever left, really.  It turns out, down on earth, it’s actually quite beautiful.

But I have goals for the year. Practical goals. Goals that require focus. Goals that require structure. Goals that embrace the quotidian (which is a word I also love, but for very different reasons).

The problem I kept running into when thinking about any of these words as my theme for the year is that I associate them with boredom. I think of them as dull. Lifeless. Scarce. What I hear is “Reign it in,” as if I haven’t done enough of that in my life already.

Enough.

Also, I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but I’m turning 40 this year. I am happy to be turning 40, because I have earned every year. I’m going to herald in this milestone. There might actually be trumpets involved.

There will probably come a year when I want to reclaim sensible words and focus on them, because they’re not bad words. There’s nothing inherently scarce about them. I just don’t think this is that year.

I considered making “Renaissance” my word. It encompasses both practicality and beauty, knowledge and art, form and function. But while I can definitely see all sorts of things being incorporated into my year (because learning is delightful), I can’t see it providing the sort of focus I’m going for.

This is a year for celebration. For a bit of decadence. For carousing and merriment and revelry. For indulgence. For liberality.

For fun.

Fun is so simple that I have the urge to pick another word for it. Merriment is a good word. Hullaballoo. Hoopla.

I don’t want to hide behind the word itself, though.  As fun as “fun” sounds, it’s not actually easy for me to do. It is much more like me (especially in the last ten years or so) to slip into that person who plans a great theme party and throws so much energy into planning and execution that I’m exhausted by the time the day of the party arrives. As you might imagine, parties aren’t so fun for me when I’m tired of them before they ever begin (reason #1 that I probably will hire a wedding planner if I ever get married, but that’s another blog post altogether).

So I’m keeping the plan – and the word – simple. Fun.

Are you setting New Year’s Resolutions?  If so, what are they?

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I am taking liberties with the goal of NaNoWriMo this year. I am writing 50,000 new words, but instead of fiction, I am writing a book of prompts for a course I am planning to launch next April called Feast. Here’s a teaser of the course-to-be.

Sometimes life just needs celebrating.  And by “sometimes,” I do mean “pretty much all the time.” Any excuse for food, really.

This is my favorite reason to feast – nothing.  No reason at all. I am prone to making elaborate dishes on a whim to savor just for the sake of savoring them.  If you were to ask me what the special occasion was or why I was doing it, you would get an answer like, “Because…Tuesday,” or “Because I can.” I might even turn it around on you – “Why not?” It’s not that there isn’t a reason but rather that life itself is the reason.

You are alive.  Celebrate!

But it’s not quite that easy, is it?

The first seedlings of thought about this course sprung out of my need to bring celebration back into my everyday life. It’s so easy to go through the motions, looking forward to that next fun event on the calendar so much that I sail past all the rest of my days, eyes glazed and barely seeing everything that I’m passing by. If the next fun event is Friday night relaxing at home (and yes, this is on my calendar – it’s very important), and it’s Tuesday, that’s a whole lot of time to check out mentally.

This is no way to live. I want to make my days matter as much as possible. I don’t want to kill time until an acceptable hour to collapse into bed arrives. I want to live.

So I was going to call the class Celebrate because I wanted to explore all the ways we enjoy life.  While doing so is certainly part of the course, something was missing. Celebration alone didn’t seem like exactly what I was going for.  The word that kept coming up – the one that tied my vision together – was feast.

This was both exciting and terrifying.

I was excited because I love the idea of feasting. I love holidays where there is a ridiculous amount of food – ten times what the people present should actually ingest in the allotted time. I love the security and the hominess that excessive abundance implies. I love feeding people and being the one who supplies the ridiculous amount of food. I might not have a big house or a fancy car, but when you are invited over to my place, you will never leave hungry.

The excess is also the terrifying part.

Feasting and I have a sordid history. We can get a little codependent if I’m not careful. I love feasting so much that it’s easy for it to infiltrate my life on an identity level.

I was raised to be great at it. When people remark that hosting seems to come naturally to me, I take it as the compliment it was meant to be and say, “Thank you.” But let’s be clear – it’s not talent; it’s training. I have worked hard to become good at it, and I take a certain amount of pride in that. I love having people over, and they usually have a pretty good time. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s important to remember, however, that being a good host is a seductive minx to my ego, and because of that, it’s also important to remember that hosting the occasional flop does not define (and therefore cannot diminish) me.

At the heart of feasting is the food, and with the food comes the seedy underbelly of food issues.

In some ways, I do have a healthy relationship with food. I’m not really one for restrictive diets. I know a lot of them well, because when I have guests that are on limited choices, I prefer to know how to fix something they will eat without having to interrogate them about their dietary needs. I’ve been vegetarian or vegan at different phases of my life, but that was less a function of a plan to diet and more a function of a Lenten fast or having just read something like Fast Food Nation and thus simply losing my taste for meat. And I have to confess that I’m one of those annoying folk who, if I just eat like a normal person and get a moderate amount of exercise, the excess weight falls off pretty easily.

It’s that “eating like a normal person” thing that trips me up.

My issues with food are mainly emotional rather than physical. I am a chronic over-indulger. There are various things that I cannot keep in the house – soda, snack cakes, certain candy bars – because I cannot leave them alone. Since I am hypersensitive to sugar and most of my compulsive food choices are sweets, they’re extra bad news. I know in my head that having only one Kit Kat is the prudent choice, yet minutes later there I stand over four empty wrappers with a darty feeling behind my eyes, a budding headache, and no real memory of where one indulgence ended and the next one began.

I tremble to write that. As you are reading it, I am nervous, knowing that you know something that is a source of shame for me.

But shame doesn’t get to win.

I will remember that I am not what I eat.

I will remind myself that growth is a process and that by my mid-twenties, I had overcome my habit of bingeing to the point that purging was not physically optional.

I will go look at my well-stocked kitchen, full of real food, not junk food, and I will declare aloud, “I did that.  I made those good choices.”

And I will sit here and savor my half a glass of wine and my two little squares of decadent dark chocolate. And I will be satisfied.

And then I will drink a bucket of water, because wine dries me out. I will listen to my body and give it what it needs.

I will honor who I am, where I came from, and how far I’ve come. I will celebrate myself. I will feast.

Just because.

Journal prompt: What do you need to celebrate about yourself today? Where can you show yourself a little more kindness? What do you need to acknowledge?

Activity prompt: Go for a walk for a minimum of five minutes.  Don’t come back from the walk until you have noticed at least five things that you think you would normally miss. Go out and see your world today.

Marvia’s prompt for this Real Talk Tuesday is “celebration,” so I’m linking up over there as well.

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Ten-Minute Ballet

This week is crazy.  I am finishing up my 31 Days series. I am getting the next installment of Fishbowl ready to send to Andi for editing. I am also doing all the NaNoPrep that I didn’t do this weekend, because I was busy learning crochet and Italian, eating soup, and buying books. That involves completing my outline (I’m going to try to be a planner instead of a pantser this year…we’ll see how that goes), meal planning, and delegating some tasks that would use the time I need to spend writing.

Oh, and I also have two other jobs.

So this week, the movement will happen, but it will have to be fast.

Enter Michelle Nevidomsky’s 10-Minute Solution video.*

I can do ten minutes of ballet, kickboxing, boot camp, yoga, or Pilates, and then I can move on to one of the other ten million things on my to-do list. I’m going to do the ballet part today.

If you are strapped for time, I recommend this video.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go conquer my week.

I’m committing to 31 Days of Movement.

*Affiliate link

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Story 101

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“The delights of the poet as I jotted them down turned out to be light, solitude, the natural world, love, time, creation itself. Suddenly after months of depression I am fully alive in all these areas, and awake.” – May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

The 2014 winter session was my first time to take Story 101.  In our first meeting, Elora asked us to take a few minutes to write down why we were there. Why were we taking the course?  What did we need? What did we expect to get out of it?

I wrote this:

Last year, I decided (finally admitted) that writing was what I wanted to do. What I was afraid to do. What failing at would break my heart more than any other possible failure. What I must do. This course is my leaping off point to make it an intentional part of my schedule instead of the whenever-I-get-around-to-it part of the schedule that it has been. I need this because I have two other jobs, so if something isn’t planned with a specific time attached to it, it usually doesn’t happen, no matter how much my soul needs it.

By the end of the course, this goal was realized. If that was all that I’d gotten out of Story 101, it would have been enough.  I would have been satisfied that I had gotten my money’s worth. 

A few weeks into the course, however, I discovered another reason that I was there – a reason that I never would have thought to make into a goal. You see, everyone who takes Story 101 probably has their favorite week(s). Some people really love the week on memoir, some soak up all the information on marketing yourself as a writer without losing your soul that they can, and some love discovering new modes of expression that they had not used before.

I’m the weirdo whose favorite week is the week of silence.

I have always required a relatively large measure of solitude in order to function as a proper human. I have also always harbored a relatively large measure of guilt for doing so. I have sometimes felt and have been accused of using it as an excuse to waste time. I have been expected to justify it to others and have tried in vain to do so. I have felt selfish. I have felt that, no matter how much time I tried to make for friends and family, that it was never quite enough.

Then, per Elora’s suggestion, I turned off the television and the Internet while I was home.  I wrote for an hour a day. I spent twenty minutes a day just sitting. I went on walks. I read May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude wherein one of my favorite poets wrote an ode to a lifestyle of solitude, describing it as the reason she was able to give so much beauty to the world.  

And my thoughts began to rewrite themselves.  

What felt selfish was now restorative. What felt like an excuse became a reason. What felt indulgent still felt indulgent, but in the best possible and most productive way.

What felt like not enough was suddenly rich and abundant.

I still have some of those doubts and feelings – old habits die hard. But now when they rear their wagging heads, I have ammunition against them, and I got it from Story 101.

There are many reasons that people take this course, and this fall is your last chance to take it live. Follow my affiliate link to the Story 101 syllabus, and you just might find your reason(s) lurking there.

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Oh, June.  I’m into you.  I didn’t expect to be.  Maybe the surprise of it is what makes it so mesmerizing.

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The snow cones don’t hurt, either.

Words:

Poetry, food, and friends.  Even with two jobs in full swing, June demands vacation reading. I moved my reading lamp to the bedroom, so I have been drenching myself in the poetry collections I keep on my bedside table every night and every morning.  Suddenly, waking up isn’t so hard to do.

Chocolat – Long-time lover of the movie (because Johnny Depp.  And chocolate.  But mostly Johnny Depp), I knew I’d love the book as well. This book will make you hungry…in so many ways.

Ruth Reichl’s debut novel Delicious! was wonderful.  I am biased, because having collected most of her other books and tried most of the recipes within them, I love her and sort of want to be her when I grow up, but Reichl knows how to tell a story.  Also – don’t worry – the gingerbread recipe is at the back of the book.

And my friend Beth Morey’s The Light Between Us was launched this month.  I ordered a paper copy but I couldn’t wait for it to get to me, so I grabbed an e-copy as well. It’s a fast read, because you don’t want to put it down.  This book + beach + mai tai = perfect day.

Friends:

June was full of fun.

Our Supper Club went to Wine Squared for Sumptuous Sundays on Father’s Day. We enjoyed a wonderful three-course meal with wine pairings for each course which included the most glorious pork loin I’ve ever eaten and a port I actually enjoyed. We, of course, hastily signed up for their wine club.  We’re hooked.

Summer seems to be the time for transitions. Several friends have moved/are moving/got new jobs, so I got to celebrate with them. My old boss Dennis got a job at another school, so the Dean of Students office (where he worked at UNT) had a farewell party for him. Lisa from my book club moved back to the east coast, so we had a special book club meeting (read: night of wine and Texas-themed food/presents) to send her off.  And Jayne and Connor are moving to Juneau soon, so I got to see her last week and will see her again at their garage sale on Saturday.  Added bonus – I bought this adorable thing from them, which is the perfect cabinet for my liquor:

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Dear Savvy turned two.  What she’s into?  Daniel Tiger and butterflies.

Savvy

 

(And cake.  And Daddy.)

Because none of us could make the in-person Story Sessions retreat in Austin, the DFW Story Sisters decided to have our own party.  Adela hosted us for an evening of wine, food, and conversation, and it was a balm to my soul.

Products:

Um, who knew about Arbonne and failed to tell me?  Kim lured me to a party one Friday with the promise of wine (pretty much the only reason I’ll ever leave my house on a Friday evening), and I’m so glad she did.  I tried all the things, and I AM NOT ALLERGIC TO ANY OF THEM. This never happens.  I ordered the daily face regime for sensitive skin and the deodorant, but I want to buy everything.  I’m having a party in August, and I’m at least going to sign up to be a preferred customer.

Equal Exchange’s Red Cherry Challenge -in addition to their already stellar business practices that ensure a livable wage and a workable business model for coffee farmers, Equal Exchange is donating ten cents for every pound of coffee purchased this year to the Red Cherry Fund, a grant program for farmers in El Salvador and Guatamala, where climate change has wreaked havoc on their businesses. I pledged to buy five pounds of coffee a month (which is actually a pretty conservative estimate for me).  Will you join the challenge?

TV/Movies:

The first weekend of the month, I did a little dogsitting, which means I also did a lot of Netflixing.  In one weekend, I watched Season 3 of Sherlock (!!!) and both seasons of Orange is the New Black (also !!!). The dogs were incredibly calm, aside from during that pesky storm incident, and I like to think it had something to do with my good taste in programming.

Well, I say they were calm.  This is the look you get from Maddie when you suggest that she “go outside” during OITNB:

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No one gives side eye like Maddie.

I also watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.  I liked it, but I don’t know if I would have liked it as much as I did if I hadn’t been chatting about it via Facebook with the Story Sessions while watching it. It was clever.  You should see it.

The Internet:

Women ignoring men as art

June 4 was National Hug Your Cat Day, and The Bloggess encouraged all of us to celebrate.

– This was followed two days later by National Donut Day. Mmmm….donut….*salivates*

– Addie Zierman wrote The Non-Blogger’s Guide to Blogging series. This is the first blogging series that hasn’t made me want to throw my hands up in the air (and wave them like I just don’t care) and erase everything I’ve ever done online because why bother if I’m not going to be perfect at it. If you want to improve your blog but can’t stand advice on how to improve your blog, go give it a read.

So you can see why I have such a crush on June this year.  Link up with us over at Leigh Kramer’s blog to let us know what you were into in June!

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It is not easy to define what support looks like in practice.  It might seem easy.  Then you meet people and discover that they often find it difficult to take others’ needs into account when they are deciding how they are going to behave in life.  This might surprise you, but it probably shouldn’t, as you are people, too, and have probably not centered your own life around what the general “other” needs.

It’s even more complicated when you’ve been burned.  When you thought what you had was support but found out that what was really going on there was agenda.  Or when you had an agreement, and that agreement was not honored. Or when you really did have support – one that you thought would last forever – right up until the moment that it ended.

Today, I want to talk about two places I’ve found support and what that looks like.  I want to talk about two of my online writing communities.

I also want to invite you to join us, because, dear reader-writer-friend, I want you to have support, too.  If any of this interests you, follow the links to find out how you can get involved.

The first online writing community I joined was the writing community at Andilit.  It was created by Andi Cumbo-Floyd who wrote The Slaves Have Names (click and buy – you know you wanna) about the people who were enslaved on the land where she grew up. I am boggled, both by the enormous amount of research it took to tell as much of their story as possible and by the humble grace and beauty with which she tells it.

I joined because I had this scrap of a manuscript, and I needed fresh eyes. What I found exceeded (and continues to exceed) my expectations.

I get monthly editing for up to five pages of work from a professional editor.  Five pages is a drop in the bucket as far as a full manuscript goes, but for the turtle-esque pace with which I edit my own work to the point that I am willing to let another human being see it, this works out perfectly.  I am saving up for a grand editing once the manuscript is totally finished (and if you are looking for such an editor, I highly recommend Andi), but it’s great to have help along the way as well.

I also get monthly editing from a workshop of others in the group for up to five pages.  This was the part that scared me when I first joined, because I tend to helicopter-parent my characters.  They’ve been through so much already; I want to protect them from judgment. But as with most overzealous protection, this doesn’t help them grow, so I begrudgingly submitted pieces for workshop.  It has been a godsend.  It’s a critique, but from nice, friendly people who write very different things but are still enthusiastic in their desire to help you make your work better, and they expect the same from you. It doesn’t mean the critique doesn’t ever hurt, but it hurts in the good kind of way, like having sore legs the day after a challenging run.

In addition to all of this, Andi facilitates a private Facebook group for members where we post articles or posts on writing that we find, our own blog posts, and anything else writers might find helpful to their craft.  She ends out weekly writing prompts to keep us from getting stuck.  Andi teaches several online courses at reasonable rates. She also lives on a farm where she is hosting a writer’s retreat in July (another thing I’ll be saving toward so that I don’t miss it again next year).

The second online writing community I joined was Story Sessions. I meandered into Story Sessions via Elora’s blog after I read Every Shattered Thing (go ahead, click and buy – I’ll wait) and thus had the insatiable urge to read everything she has ever or will ever write. I feel almost as protective of her main character as I do of  mine.

There are many options for membership.  All of them, however, include a private Facebook group and private members-only content on the website, weekly writing prompts, a monthly newsletter, and story coaching with trained coaches. There are e-courses offered (I’m in the summer session of Story 101 now, and it is glorious) as well as various collectives (mini-courses on a variety of topics), virtual retreats, movie nights, and an annual in-person retreat. We also meet in person in more casual groups on a regular basis, because we just can’t help ourselves.

My favorite thing about Story Sessions are the write-ins.  This might sound funny to members, because my crazy schedule doesn’t allow me to engage in them very often, but I LOVE them. Many of the blog posts I’ve written in the last year of which I am most proud (and all of the blog series I’ve started) were birthed at a Story Sessions write-in. On a weekly basis, members are invited to an online Fuze meeting where we are given prompts, time to write, and an opportunity to read what came out of that time to the other people attending the session.

All that I have said is just a small taste of what you would get from membership in these groups. These words don’t do them justice, because the people in these groups are my friends, and when have words ever done a friend justice? I have read many a snotty piece on how Internet relationships aren’t real relationships, but I can’t help but wonder where those authors are looking.  I know online relationships can be real, because I experience them. And while it’s even better when we have a chance to get together in person, the foundation of our friendships started via the Internet, and they flourish there.

I love these people.  Mercy, how I love them.

I would consider myself lucky to have just found one such community, but I have two.  If you are a writer/artist in need of support, give us a try.

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(Photo Credit – Jennifer Upton – A Shared Lens)

Every morning, at precisely 5:03 a.m., my internal clock wakes me up.  This has been happening sporadically for about a year, but it has happened EVERY DAY for the last two weeks. It doesn’t seem to matter what time I go to bed.  I could crash at 10:30, or I can stay up reading until 2:00.  Still – 5:03.  On the dot.

I don’t know why my body has decided to betray me in such a way.  I don’t know why it’s angry with me or what I could have possibly done for it to think I deserve this treatment.  Et tu, body?

I have been ignoring it.  I have woken up, looked at my phone, seen the odious numbers 5:03, cursed vehemently, rolled over in a huff, and fallen right back to sleep.

Yet it keeps happening.

So I’m going to give in. You want to wake me up at 5:03 a.m., body?  FINE. We’ll see how you actually like getting up at that time.

My fear, of course, is that my body will like it.  I do not look forward to the few weeks it takes to adjust my falling-asleep time to the new, ungodly getting-up time. The next few weeks might be rough.

But once I do adjust (and please let it happen quickly), I foresee the following benefits:

  1. I can have breakfast and wake up (read: start caffeinating) at home, where I can do so in private, instead of at work, where I must do so around other humans. People I work with – don’t worry – there will still be coffee at the desk in the morning.  In fact, this way, you might get more than one cup before I drain the pot.
  2. I can do morning free writes leisurely, at my desk, instead of tapping away on Margeaux the iPhone, one eye still closed, in between alarm snoozes.
  3. Morning reading time?  Yes, please.
  4. Once I get used to it, I could start going to the gym again.  I am generally not a fan of the gym, but I am a fan of running.  Do you know what a good time of day to run outside in July in Texas is?  NEVER.  There’s not a good time.  It’s so hot.  You could die. So I can get up and go use the track (and maybe the weights, on days when I just flat out lose my mind and forget my personality, which is actually quite likely at 6:00 in the morning) at the gym.  Yes, I realize that the gym is open at other times of the day. But will I ever, ever go when I know that it’s full of 18-year-olds?  No.  No, I will not.  So 6:00 a.m. is my gym time, if I am to have a gym time at all.
  5. I will be able to do all of these things and still get to work on time.

So I’m skeptical, but I’m willing to try, if for no other reason than it means I’ll only have to wake up once.

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