A Great Adventure

I've had a few requests for some pictures from Ireland. So here are a couple, along with some thoughts:

We were incredibly lucky to be in Ireland during the Centennial Remembrance of the 1916 Easter Rising, Ireland's first steps towards independence from England. 

Sometimes, I really can conquer my fears (in the name of adventure).

I saw great big beautiful things. 

And little tiny sweet things. 

Grand beauty...

Painful history...

And my favorite room on earth (so far).

St. Patrick's Day was insane. 

Where should we go next?

Camp Jitters

I've got 22 days until I cross the Atlantic for adventures in writing on the Emerald Isle. And I've got full-on Camp Jitters. Because the Singing Over the Bones writing workshop--taking place at the postcard-perfect Anam Carar retreat--is going to include full-on legit writers. And I'm feeling nervous. I'm feeling anything but full-on legit.

I know I'm a writer in the most basic definition of the term. But (like most real writers, I can only assume), I am insecure about my work. My goal for this retreat is to come away with a half-way-decent rewrite of the manuscript I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2014. I need to smooth out the rough edges. Buff up the story. Surgically connect all the pieces. Make it... well... a book.

I'm the Pinocchio of Communication majors. I just want to be a real writer. And that is why I have camp jitters. I'm sure you are familiar with this particular variety of jitters.

What if they don't like me?

What if I'm not good enough?

What if they steal my underwear and run it up the flagpole? No, wait. That was the summer camp after 6th grade.

I found this article from the Child Mind Institute*: 13 tips to get your child ready for summer camp 

Here are the tips they suggest to ease Camp Jitters. I will be replacing every instance of "your child" with "Elys" and "camp" with "workshop." Kind of like rhetorical psychology Mad Libs.

1)   Let Elys feel a sense of ownership over the workshop experience. 

I'm gonna own this.... I'm gonna own this.... I'm gonna own this....

Maybe if I keep saying it. Just like Cam Newton. Oh, wait...

2)   Help Elys get excited about camp. 

I've been packed for a month. So, yeah, I'm excited.

3)   Avoid focusing on what makes Elys anxious.

This is a tricky one, because I am feeling most anxious about the very thing that is at the core of this whole trip. The writing. I am not a nervous flyer. I know how to find my way with a map. My phone will work to stay in touch with the Kiddo. I'm only nervous about one think. It just happens to be THE thing.

4)   Don't trivialize Elys's concerns or offer glib reassurances. 

Actually, all glib reassurances will be welcome at this point.

5)   Focus on concrete details in conversations leading up to and during the workshop. 
Oh, the details. The beautiful, beautiful details.

6)   Reflect on your own formative experiences away from home and share positive aspects of them with Elys. 

One of the things I want to get out of this retreat is new perspectives on my writing. I keep finding myself driving my stories to a dead end. But instead of backing up and starting over, I think it's important for me to learn how to simply blow through those walls. I'm looking for that ammunition. I think I will find it in Ireland. 

7)   Go through "rehearsals." 

Pfft. I've been "rehearsing" my writing for years. I need to actually take it to the public at some point. Might as well be now.

8)   Don't linger at the bus stop. 

I'm going to miss my Kiddo so much! But I know he is safe and happy with his dad. 

9)   Make communication easy and accessible.

Anam Cara has WiFi and Verizon has an international plan. So, done and done.

10)   Have goals for each letter or conversation, so Elys will come away focused on how she is adjusting, rather than on how much she wants to come home.
But what if I never want to come home? That seems like the real danger. Especially in this election year.

11)   Try not to communicate your own anxiety.

I don't know about this one. Knowing other people are anxious about this retreat might actually help ease my own jitters.

12)   Help Elys formulate realistic, goal-oriented plans for making friends or toasting the perfect marshmallow or passing a swimming test. 

I've already solved the friend issue by bringing my best friend with me. I highly recommend that approach. As far as other goals go, my main goal is to sculpt my Badlands book into a form that I can share with other people.

And then, share it with other people. 

13)   If Elys has psychiatric or learning issues, don't keep them a secret.  

Oy. It has become more and more evident that I never do learn. But, most artists are crazy, right? Even if it is only a little bit crazy? 

Stupid fucking camp jitters. What if they don't like me?What if I'm not good enough?

But what if... just what if... I find out I really am kind of a decent writer?

I think with that, I will sign off this blog for a while, and move over to my travel blog. Where I guarantee you will find lots more insecurity and nervousness. And a lot of pictures of wonderful Ireland. Follow along with my "camp" experience at TravelPod.

*Let's be honest. My mind is not childlike. But probably right at home in an institution.

Of Danger Mice and Men

I was never in a sorority back in college. For several reasons, really. The combination of my aversion to paying for friends, my going to a very small liberal arts college, and having known way too many frat boys made a sorority very unlikely for me.

And, here I am, days away from turning 43, and I have found myself in a sorority. As it turns out, we have chapters across the United States.

Some might try to describe our growing roster as a support group. And we do support each other, whenever we are needed. With the severity of the damage inflicted upon us, we certainly need the support.

So--while our core purpose, our charter, or raison d'etre is to indeed offer each other support--I prefer to call us a sorority.

Because we are sisters. We are Earthquake survivors.

Pulling yourself from the rubble crashing down on you can feel like a Sisyphean task. But we--as a group of amazing, intelligent women--are developing our course on Earthquake survival. And, with every addition to our ranks, we are perfecting and sharing the syllabus.

Let me share with you all one of the best Earthquake survival tips that I have learned.

There will be days--I still have days--where it will feel like I will never be happy again. Sometimes, it is mired in nihilistic struggles of existential angst. Or in other worlds... Why does terrible shit keep happening to me? I'm a good person. I am a fundamentally righteous person who does not intentionally inflict harm to the people I care about. Why do I always run headlong into people... OK, let's be real for a moment here... Why do I always run headlong into men who are intent on doing me harm?

There will be days that you will wonder if you will ever find happiness. Find Joy. And here is the secret to feeling happy after the Earthquake:

Schedule some Joy. Put some Joy on your calendar, then circle that Joy in red and draw little hearts and stars and diamonds around it.

Joy, it seems, has much in common with Lucky Charms.

I've scheduled my next Joy. In March, I will be going to a women's writing workshop in Cork. I am headed to Ireland for 20 days of castles and cliffs and writing and stones. I will visit Guinness, and Waterford, and Claddagh, and pub after pub after pub. I will visit art museums and maritime museums, then spend five intense days working on the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo. After that, I will hop on trains and buses to see the Trinity Library and St. Patrick's Cathedral. And speaking of St. Paddy, I will be spending March 17th in Dublin.

Such, such Joy.

I do have to attach one small warning to the Schedule Joy plan. If you plan to include someone else in the Joy, you have to be able to Know--capital K Know--that the person you choose as someone to share the Joy will not be taking a big shit all over it.

The person with whom I am sharing this next Joy with is one of my favorite people in the world. She is one of the handful of people to whom I would give both of my kidneys if she needed them. She will make my next Joy an amazing, shit-free journey. She will be by my side as I am working though the most difficult parts of my book. My book--a memoir disguised as a novel--has not seen much attention in the last little while. It's difficult subject matter. But like a splinter, I need to let it fester out of my system.

I need to finish the book because--if for no other reason--it probably should be added to our syllabus.

And I need to read it myself from time to time. Just to remember.

A little while ago, I was talking to my Earthquake sister Melanie about the men in my life and their escalating degree of injury they cause me. I posed the question: How do these men keep finding me? Melanie had an interesting insight. She postulated that once you have been the victim of one bad man, you are more likely to encounter more bad men. It's like getting a concussion. Once you get one, you are susceptible to more concussions. And they build and compound on each other. They just get worse and worse.

After all this time, my Earthquake concussion is still making me feel injured and vulnerable. I need my sorority sisters for support, for camaraderie, for a sanity check. The Earthquake sisters lean on each other. We serve as one another's Jiminy Cricket, sitting on each other's shoulders and giving gentle reminders that "something about this dude doesn't feel right."

There is only one issue that remains. What should we call ourselves, this growing sorority? Maybe we should call ourselves I Eta Pi, and we can plan retreats every March 14th. Well, except this next one. I'll be in Cork.

Welcome to all of our many, many sisters out there in the world. We are here for you when you are ready. We are your support. We are your safe place. We are ordering jackets.

They will have a silver linings.