Taking on a Challenge

Last week, when I was talking to one of my students, Kara, about a writing exercise that starts with, "I remember," and then shifts to "I don't remember," she tweaked the assignment and challenged me to write a poem that began with "I don't remember."  So I wrote a poem.  In its earliest draft, the poem began with the suggested line.  But, as it underwent revision, the beginning moved to the middle and became the crux, or turning point, of the poem.

BETWEEN THE LINES

I like to be the first one asleep

and the second one awake;

I like knowing someone else is in charge

of keeping the clocks ticking.

And I like to prop my door just so,

not quite open,

not quite closed,

as though I will be more likely to know

when the future scurries past

like a rat in search of yesterday’s cheese.

I don’t remember a day when I wasn’t afraid,

when I didn’t wake with a start,

shocked to find myself

still part of this planet,

still breathing yet still,

and I always have to stop myself

from imagining the worst.

If I were a flower, I would be a thorn.

If I were a coin, I would land on my face.

If I were a mirror, I would reflect beauty,

unable to capture it for myself.

If I were a chorus, much loved and often sung,

I would long to be a forgotten verse. 

Creative Writing: Day Three

I.  Free-writing topic:  Think of a friend or relative and then focus on something that always reminds you of them (like their perfume, their sense of style, maybe something they love to do) and then write an entry that centers around that.

II.  Exercise:  Find a photograph that seems to have the main subject stopped in the act of doing something.  Animate the photo in your mind and write a one page story about what is happening to the character you create.  Write it in third person.

III.  Revising and Editing:  Discuss your results with the "I Remember" prompt and the "Hands" exercise.  

IV.  Discuss list poems and the process for creating one.
Characteristics of a list poem:

A list poem can be a list or inventory of items, people, places or ideas.
It often involves repetition.
It can include rhyme or not.
The list poem is usually not a random list.  It is well thought out.
The last entry in the list is usually a strong, funny, or important item or event.

Links to List Poem pages:

Write an Instant List Poem:  http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/listpoem.htm

How to Write a Funny List Poem:  http://www.poetry4kids.com/blog/lessons/how-to-write-a-funny-list-poem/

Some good examples of List Poems: http://www.rcowen.com/PDFs/Franco%20Ch%2020%20for%20web.pdf

V. Discuss number symbolism, and a hint of numerology.

http://mmdelrosario.hubpages.com/hub/numbers
http://www.2012-spiritual-growth-prophecies.com/numerology-meanings.html

VI.  Critique:  "Numbers" poem

http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/008.html 

VII.  Write an instant phone number poem.

http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/phonenumpoem.htm

VIII. Work on covering journal, collecting titles, etc.

IX.  HOMEWORK:  The Cut-up Poem:  http://www.languageisavirus.com/articles/articles.php?subaction=showcomments&id=1099111044&archive=&start_from=&ucat=&

Be sure to bring a copy of the original poem so we can see what it looked like before you cut it up!

MORE HOMEWORK:  Look at Duotrope and find a possible home for your "I Remember" poem.

MORE HOMEWORK:  Take a look at the two following websites.  "The First Line" and "THEMA."  Both of these magazines give you the first line or theme of your poem or short fiction, etc.  This is a great way to jumpstart your writing when you get blocked.

 

Creative Writing:  Day Two

I.
"Hands" Assignment
Instructions:  Read and execute each prompt in the order it is presented.
1.  Describe a specific person's hands.
2.  Describe something he or she is doing with his or her hands.
3.  Use a metaphor to say something about an exotic place.
4.  Ask this person a question related to step two or three.
5.  The person looks up, notices you there, and gives an answer that shows he or she only got part of what you were asking.
6.  Now spend some time shaping your responses into a poem or short story.  Or, if you prefer, use this as a jumping off point for a free-writing session.

II.  Look back over your journal and highlight parts that intrigue you.

III.  Look back at your exercise, "I Remember."  Turn it into a completed poem. (Try starting with "I Don't Remember."

IV.  Look back at your exercise on "Hands."  Turn it into a completed poem.

V.  Research "How to Write a List Poem

Creative Writing Day One

Items of interest:

Duotrope:  https://duotrope.com/login.aspx  This is a great site for finding places to submit your work.  It also has a database that keeps up with your submissions.

Dictionary of Symbolism:  http://www.umich.edu/~umfandsf/symbolismproject/symbolism.html/
Dream Dictionary:  http://www.dreammoods.com/

Amazon.com:  Sometimes we forget how much free stuff is here.  All of the classics are free as Kindle books.  You don't have to have a Kindle, either--just download the Kindle app on your phone or laptop.  Almost every Kindle book offers a free sample consisting of 1-3 chapters.  Also, many books offer previews online.

Language is a Virus: http://www.languageisavirus.com/  Lots of writing games!  Good ways to jump start your brain.

Process:

Today we set up our journals.  You should free-write in your journal every day.  Even if it is only for three minutes.  Always date your work and refer to the rules if you need to.  We also set up a Title page, an envelope in the back of the book, and started collecting interesting bits.

We looked at two poems:  The Two-Headed Calf by Laura Gilpin, and Hazel Tells Laverne by Katharyn Machan Aal.  You can go to these poems by clicking on the titles.  I usually try to find links that offer audio versions of the poem, too.  You also have them in your journal if you want to take notes or annotate them.

Homework:  

• Write in your journal.  Try to do this every day.  Try not to look at past entries for at least a week.  If you absolutely can't help your self, highlight the things that draw your attention.  If you get stuck and can't think of a "topic" for your daily writing, I have provided you with a list of topics below.  These come from "Chat Pack: Fun Questions to Spark Conversation."  Just think of the results as conversations with your self!  
• Topics:  1.  Suppose that instead of having a name, you had a letter, and people would always refer to you as that letter.  Which letter of the alphabet would you want to take the place of your name and why?  2.  If you could have any object or place in the world completely to yourself fo one day, what would you choose and why?  3.  What is one item you own that you should throw away... but probably never will?  4.  If you could open your own retail store, what type of merchandise would you sell?  Describe your store in detail.  5.  What world record would you most want to establish if you could?  6.  Which punctuation mark would best describe your personality? (This gives you a week of topics, so you have no excuse for not writing!)
• Do the listening exercise:  Start by listening to things in your immediate vicinity, then take a deep breath and expand your consciousness so you can hear even further away.  Do this at least three or four times. Then take an even deeper breath and imagine what you could hear if your abilities to listen were unlimited.
• Collect some titles and write them in the back of your journal on the "Title Page."  Be prepared to share a few of these with the group.
• Check out the websites above and set up an account at Duotrope.
• Leave comments on this blog if you want to.

Terms: (If you click on the word, it will take you to Wikipedia for more info.)

Ekphrasis or ecphrasis is the graphic, often dramatic, description of a visual work of art. In ancient times it referred to a description of any thing, person, or experience. The word comes from the Greek ek and phrasis, 'out' and 'speak' respectively, verb ekphrazein, to proclaim or call an inanimate object by name.  (We discussed writing ekphrasis poetry, which is a poem based on a work of art.  The artwork I mentioned is one I found titled "Self Portrait with Bird on a String.")

Vernacular is the native language or native dialect of a specific population, as opposed to a language of wider communication that is a second language or foreign language to the population.  This word was tied to the poem "Hazel Tells Laverne," because the poem is written in a rather illiterate sounding type of speech.

STAYING IN TOUCH

When I started my blog a few years ago, I found myself focusing mostly on creativity.  I think this is because art and writing were my means of escaping my regimented life.  Now that I am retired, I find myself more interested in the nuts and bolts of life in a much more practical way.  For example, I feel compelled to share with people how they can keep their trashcans from stinking.  Perhaps a little background is appropriate here.

It is only in the past year that my family has become dedicated to recycling everything that can be recycled.  This means we only produce one small bag of trash each week and that we can put out the trash once a week instead of twice.  Keeping the trash longer, however, can result in it starting to ripen a bit, and can stink up the kitchen.  The solution is to do a couple of simple things.  Recycled items must be washed thoroughly, and food scraps should be put into a separate, re-sealable container.  I use a stainless steel cookie jar with a tight fitting lid.  I keep a small plastic bag in it to keep it from getting too messy, and it sits  quite inconspicuously on the end of my kitchen counter. 

This is not a new idea, of course.  When I was a city kid spending summers in my Nanny’s country kitchen, I found it strange that she always kept an empty ice cream carton on her counter beside the sink.  This was for food scraps—a necessity since her sink did not have a garbage disposal.  At the end of each day, the chore of scraping out the food scraps was assigned to one of us kids.

Since I don’t currently have a compost heap into which I can scrape scraps, I simply keep the container sealed until trash day, then place the bag into the trash for pickup. 

We do have a garbage disposal, but a lot of people do not, and really, most food should not be put down the drain.  Things like apple cores, potato skins, pecan shells, etc, can put too much of a strain on the grinding mechanism, and the ground up food can clog the drain.  So, overall, the scrap container seems to be a viable answer for our household.

And I can’t say enough about the difference recycling has made in our household.  We now put only about ¼ as much trash on the curb each week.  It has also made me more aware of the things I buy and the things I throw away.  Just before school was out for the summer, I was discussing with some of my students how important it was to recycle, reuse, redesign, or even donate things instead of sending them to the landfill.  I had a counter-height table from my classroom that I was thinking of getting rid of, but decided instead to cut six inches off the legs and paint a zebra pattern on the top.   It is now a great sofa table that also makes a perfect place to eat dinner or have a snack while watching a movie in the living room.  (I know I am not the only one who admittedly eats in front of the TV from time to time!)

In general, I am trying not to just coast through life, but to be more aware.  Who knows what I will discover!?!?!  I will close today with a simple recipe shared with me by my daughters. 

Granny Smith Salad

Start by pan toasting some pecans, which have been broken up into small pieces.  I usually add about a half teaspoon of olive oil, because I like to season the nuts with a little Montreal Steak Seasoning, and the oil helps it adhere.  I then toss the cooled pecans into a mixed green salad, add Granny Smith apple slices, and crumble some goat cheese into it.  My dressing of choice is Girard’s Light Champagne Dressing, which I get from Braums.  (I walk to Braums, by the way, because another thing I have become aware of is how much more I appreciate the groceries I buy during my walking trips!)  I have become such a fan of this salad, that sometimes I don’t even include the greens, but just eat sliced apples with the cheese and nuts.  And strangely enough, the vinegar in the dressing keeps the apples from turning brown and allows you to store leftovers effectively.

It is funny that my blog today began with a search for knowledge and awareness, and ended up focusing on the apple which is often a symbol for knowledge.  As George Bernard Shaw said,  “If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples, then you and I will still each have one apple.  But if you have an idea and I have an idea, and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.”

Just Saying....

So, lately I find myself to be particularly fortunate.  And while I am a big believer in thankfulness, I think it is even more important to live a life that pays back good fortune.  I thought a lot today about what that means.  This is what I came up with:

• take shorter showers
• use less shampoo
• recycle the shampoo bottle (and everything else that can be recycled)
• tell someone how great it makes you feel to recycle and maybe they will recycle, too
• set the thermostat a few degrees higher (or lower, depending on the season) than you think you can tolerate—and then wallow in the pleasure of tolerating it!
• give something away when you really don’t want to
• walk somewhere everyday!!!!
• pay attention to the places you walk
• turn off the lights
• turn off the self-loathing
• forgive someone
• forgive yourself
• create something new
• appreciate something old
• appreciate someone who is older than you are
• allow yourself to empathize with someone (especially someone you don’t necessarily like….)
• eat more vegetables
• eat more fruit
• eat more cheese (okay, I admit that I like cheese…)
• use the same cup or glass all day because even though you don’t think it matters, it matters
• use the same towel all week (after all, you are clean when you use it….)
• savor the things that delight you
• add to your list everyday

Comparative Optimism

What a fabulous, glorious Sunday afternoon.  My house is clean, appointments rescheduled, washing machine swishing rhythmically, nothing pressing, so I am listening to my "bossanova station" on Pandora, fine-tuning it with the occasional thumbs-up or thumbs-down, and thinking about some recent events in my life.
You see, my step-father died a few days ago, and while I have never pretended that there was any love lost between us, I was sad when he died.  I mourned the loss of a wasted life, and for a few days I tortured myself with childhood memories and adult angers.
But I am admittedly an exemplar of the Pollyanna principle in action.  For those who missed the Disney movie starring Hayley Mills, Pollyanna was a little girl who, even though she had any number of hardships assault her, remained an optimist.  According to Wikipedia (please don't tell my students I quoted the Big W!) research indicates that, "at the unconscious level, our minds have a tendency to focus on the optimistic, while, at the conscious level, we have a tendency to focus on the negative."  This makes sense to me, because, as my husband will tell you, I am most inclined to exist in a primarily unconscious (I prefer subconscious) level in a place that has come to be known by my friends and family as "Cheryl Land."  It is a beautiful place where the weather is much like it is today (except when I want it to rain or snow), where I have plenty of money (unless it is necessary for me to struggle financially and perhaps gain the admiration of those around me), where I am healthy (unless I have had to bravely throw myself into a car which was moving at a moderate speed to rescue a small animal or an innocent child), and where I have recently discovered that Elvis was my real father.
Yes, I confess--I live in a dream world.  Not all of the time--just when it is absolutely necessary.  For example, I was in an after school faculty meeting a couple of weeks ago when my daughter, who is also a teacher at my school, came and sat by me and tried to talk to me.  I guess I wasn't really paying attention, because the next thing I knew, she had grabbed me rather forcefully by the arm and was saying, "Stay with me!!!  Don't you dare leave me here by myself!"
Before you begin to judge me, let me point out the benefits of my dual citizenship.  In my mind, I can make time go either very fast or extremely slow.  Suppose I am worried about something?  I can make time speed up over and over again toward an endless number of possible resolutions.  And when I want to savor the moment, I can slow it down to the point that a second could conceivably take a century.
I have been doing this since I was a small child, but it was not until I gave birth to my first child that I realized the power my mind could have over my body.  I learned, during labor, the way I could not only alter my breathing to make the present moment expand or contract according to necessity, but how I could, when I needed to, live one moment at a time, focusing and refocusing on innumerable new beginnings, to survive pain.
The danger of living in one's head, however, is that it can become an addiction.  So, yesterday, I jerked myself back into what most people would consider reality, and I met with my two step-sisters.  I had not seen them for over forty years, having had an emotional wedge placed between us by my step-father.  I discovered that the two young girls of my memory had changed very little.  They are a few years older than me, two years apart in age from each other, and though they don't look a lot alike, give the impression that they are so in tune with each other that they could be twins.  I was quite taken with their obvious, mutual affection, and perhaps even more poignantly, with their unconditional acceptance of each other.   It made me sorry that I had not sought them out sooner.
People ask me quite often, what prompts me to write these blogs.  To be honest, I don't usually have a predetermined outline or plan--I just write toward realization, stopping and starting, until I stumble upon the thing that deep down I need to think and say.  And what I need to say to myself today is:  Don't be a victim.  Don't discard people.  Don't allow yourself to use them then let them go as though they don't exist outside your consciousness.  Don't allow yourself to adopt a self-serving bias which attributes your successes to internal or personal factors, and your failures to external or situational factors.  Dare to examine your life, to fine tune it relentlessly, so to speak, giving a legitimate thumbs-up or thumbs-down to your thoughts, actions, and reactions.  And don't be afraid to come out of yourself from time to time.

Albany Poetry Workshop: February Blog

I have not posted on this blog for a while, but part of the reason for that is that I have been busy writing at the Albany Poetry Workshop for the month of February.  I enjoyed the challenge of posting every day, mostly because it forced me to consider something new and connect it to my life and existing body of knowledge and thoughts.  If you would like to scan the posts, go to http://bit.ly/xpwU7C

"I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't believed it."--Marshall McLuhan

I began reading a book today titled Life Is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally, by Patti Digh.  I stumbled across the book this morning when I received an email from Amazon.com advertising 100 Kindle books for $3.99 or less.  Always looking for a good deal on a good read, I glanced inside this book and was hooked when I saw that it contained daily writing exercises.  I also appreciated the idea that Digh wrote this book after taking care of her stepfather during the last 37 days of his life as he died from lung cancer.  The author challenges her readers to consider what they would do if they were told they had only 37 days to live.  She also invites readers to live more “intentionally.” 

I am one who spends a lot of time inside her own head.  But to be honest, I have always been pretty happy in Cheryl Land.  I like reading and thinking and making connections and writing as I try to make sense of the world around me and my place in it.  From the small bit of the book I have sampled, it seems that I have found a kindred spirit in Digh.  I am not big on making New Year’s Resolutions.  I don’t consider any one day as being more important than any other.  Admittedly, I sometimes play along, for example, elongating the celebration of my January 8th birthday by proclaiming the first week of each year as the Birthday Week.  But deep down, there is not a party going on inside me.

I chose to read this book and interact with it each day because I don’t like allowing myself to use the excuse that I am too busy with the details of my life to live it intentionally.  That means that no matter what I am doing, I should make sure I am doing it with keen awareness.  For example, when I communicate with others, I try to make sure I really make a connection with them, that I look them in the eye and really listen to them.  I think it is just this kind of intensity and focus that makes for good writing, too.
The first exercise in Digh’s book is to write for 10 minutes on the following quote by Chinua Achebe:  “We create stories and stories create us. It is a rondo.”

This goes back to my belief that writing about one’s life leads to a deeper understanding of life.  So, in the spirit of the book, I set the timer and I wrote for 10 minutes.  Such raw writing is really only helpful to the writer, so I will not share it here, but I will share where my mind traveled.  I considered how much writing about my life has changed the way I perceive my life.  It forces me to analyze relationships and audience.  I have written a lot about my mother, but I was not brave enough to do so while she was still alive.  I acknowledge this and ask myself--what should I be writing about today which I am not brave enough to look directly in the eye?  This is definitely something I will make myself look at.

Achebe refers to this process as a rondo (rondeau in French).  I could not remember exactly what the rhyme scheme is in this form of poetry, but I did remember that it is a form which has a refrain and comes full circle.  I also remembered that one of the most famous rondeaus ever written is the World War I poem, "In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The author, McCrae, was a field surgeon in WWI and he wrote the poem in an attempt to deal with the horrors he experienced during the war.  It never occurred to him that it would be published.  In fact, he was so dissatisfied with it that he threw it away, but a fellow officer saved it and sent it to a few newspapers in England where it was initially rejected and eventually published in 1915.

Even more vividly than McCrae’s comparison of blood droplets and poppies, I recall a simple series of events that happened to me when I was in sixth grade.  I lived in Canada at the time and we had been making paper poppies for everyone to wear to our Remembrance Day program.  (Remembrance Day, is a memorial day that has been observed there since the end of World War I to pay tribute to members of the armed forces who have died in the line of duty.  It is observed on the eleventh of November to recall the official end of World War I at 11:00 that day.)  I was a very shy child, so instead of reading or singing in the program, I was in charge of making the decorations.  Just as we were finishing up for the day and starting to clean up, the school custodian, Mr. Rhodes, a cranky old man who limped around and glared at the kids without ever saying much, walked over to us and started sweeping up the bits of red paper that dotted the library floor around us.  We were all a little afraid of him because he never smiled and he was always muttering things we couldn’t quite hear.

As he swept up the paper scraps, he found one whole poppy that had slipped off the table.  He picked it up, held it in the palm of his hand and looked at it a moment before he placed it in my hand and looked me right in the eye.  My heart pounded and we were frozen there, me and the elderly maintenance man, tentatively connected by four perfect petals of red paper.  It’s funny how some moments last longer than the time it takes them to pass—charged as they are with fear, or tension, or the unknown.  Over 40 years later I can still see his blue eyes behind the thick lenses of his bifocals, and the way, just before he dropped the flower into my hand, his face softened almost imperceptibly for a just sliver of a second.

A few days later, on the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month, everyone in the school, along with our families and members of the surrounding community, gathered to honor our veterans and heroes.  We sang songs, read stories, and at the end of the program my English teacher, Mr. Albon, read the poem, “In Flanders Fields.”  It was a touching tribute, and I still remember every word of that poem—and I remember, during the moment of silence that naturally followed, seeing Mr. Rhodes, our school’s custodian, as he stood at the back of the room in his vintage Army uniform, very quietly, with tears streaming down his face.

I live most days in relative mental seclusion because that is my comfort zone.  And while I don’t have to be the one to read life’s stories or sing life’s songs, it is absolutely not acceptable for me to shut myself off to the other people in my life, even if we are only connected for a few seconds, memorable or otherwise.  So much goes on around us every moment of every day that we are not aware of.  So, even though I proclaim not to believe in making resolutions, I am making one:  I will push myself outside myself.  Who knows what I will discover?

Joyce Carol Oates says, “We inhabit ourselves without valuing ourselves, unable to see that here, now, this very moment is sacred; but once it’s gone—its value is incontestable.”   Powerful words.