RE-RE-RE-REBALANCING: or, where the hell i've been since october

Anyone who has read this blog or taken even one of my classes knows that words don't fail me very often. But somehow, late this fall, they did. Nothing went horribly wrong; nothing dramatic even changed. I just did a lot of thinking, or perhaps a lot of feeling, about how 2010 had gone and how I wanted 2011 to be. Anyway, my apologies to those who follow, or followed, this blog for such a protracted absence.

This time of professional and creative reflection reminded me (as though I really needed reminding) of how difficult it can be for writers, or any creative artists, to get the balance of their creative and professional lives right. On the one hand there is the imperative of our creative practice and work; on the other, the demands of money and practicality. It's not just the tension between the two that can trip us up, but also the delicacy of the balance and the frequency with which our needs change. What is right at one time, for one project or phase, can be frustratingly counterproductive for the next, and it can take quite a bit of time and self-scrutiny to see when, and what, changes must be made.

For me, the relationship between my work with others and my own writing is particularly hard to get right. This is especially true when my own project is at an early stage, as is the case right now. It's easier and sometimes more fun to poke around someone else's manuscript, and it also seems far more sane to earn something from a teaching or consulting role than to pin any part of my bank accounts to the as-yet unformed, insane, utterly unsalable mess hiding on the hard drive of my computer. Add the normal challenges of family, health, and other aspects of "real life," and I suddenly wake up to realize that it's been two months since I've made any progress on either my novel or memoir in progress. (And then, in the unsnarling of that as well as the aforesaid family and health issues, I'm too muddled, albeit fruitfully so, to blog for three months.)

I'm committed to rebalancing the various elements of my creative and professional life in twenty-eleven. Or re-re-re-rebalancing them, I should say. I look forward to sharing that journey with all of you and to getting some glimpses of yours as well.

In the meantime, if you happen to see Working Writer some day, do ask her if she's actually written anything lately.

TOUCHY TOPICS TUESDAYS: the talking wounded

“I’m one of your talking wounded,” the narrator of James Fenton’s poem “In Paris With You” says.

He’s not talking about writing and writers. (He’s in Paris with “you,” so presumably he has better poisson to fry.) But he could be.

Many of us love to talk about our writing, especially in the early years of our careers. I talked for hours about my works in progress when I first began. To this day, I'm sure there are still people in Manhattan who would duck into doorways rather than hear me explain one more of my book ideas. If any of those folks happen to be reading this, mea very very culpa.

Over the years, I’ve learned not to talk about my writing in progress much, not so much out of fears for my already idiosyncratic social life but because it sours my writing. For me, talking about a book doesn’t get the book written. In fact, once I’ve hashed out an emerging story out over coffee, I no longer feel a compelling need to sit down and actually write it. I always write more, and better, when I don’t drain off any of the tension or curiosity that draws me to a piece by letting it escape into conversation. I guess you could sum up my personal rules on this subject like this.

Rule 1: Talk about writing and other writers often. Talking about writing other than our own connects us to our tribe, our craft, our colleagues, our inspirations. It’s fun, and it fires me up.

Rule 2: Talk about your own work in progress very little. Any and all words even possibly related to that subject don't belong in our mouths; they belong on the page.

Are you one of the writerly "talking wounded"? What are you personal strategies for keeping your energy on the page?

STORY STARTERS: Why did the rubber chicken cross the road?

Sometimes getting yourself out of a dreary writing rut (block, lull, coma, quagmire, blackout, hiatus, respite, suspension, layoff, tantrum: call it what you will) requires a bit of playfulness. Therefore: write a five hundred word short short story based on this image. For extra credit, consider having not just the mo-pedding chicken but also the bus play a role. For immediate induction into the Writers' Hall of Fame, post your short short below as a comment. (I was going to end that line by telling you not to be a chicken. But even for someone with my dopey sense of humor, that joke's a rotten egg.)

EVERY-DAY WRITERS (those lying scum)

There are two kinds of writers in the world.

The ones who don’t write every single day.

And the ones who lie.

Virtually every writer you hear claiming that they do write every day is in the second category. The truth is that they don’t write the day they have brain surgery. They don’t write the day their daughter gets married. They don’t write the day their loved one dies (if it’s anticipated) or the day after their loved one dies (if it’s not).

And you know what? They shouldn’t write on those days. There are some days when you owe more to your life than you do to your writing.

It's okay not to write for a bit. But didn't your mommy ever tell you it's not okay to lie?