Well Hello 2022...

 

Chicago, IL

It’s been a slow tap-in for the kid. Since the pandemic started, ushering in the new year hasn’t quite hit the same. Before I get into an overview of what I have planned for 2022, let’s kick it back to NaNoWriMo [November] 2021:

Yeah, that was a [kind of] bust; I made minimal progress on my book project. Sadly, it was my least productive run. I remember back in 2016 when I started: I was going through a breakup and as a country we were watching a ‘baby Hitler’ emerge but I STILL managed to push numbers. Last year was different. To be honest, a combination of general exhaustion with a sprinkle of ‘distraction’ made it impossible to focus on my goals. It wasn’t completely shot to hell - I did get some editing work completed - but 2021 was both physically and emotionally draining.

Because I didn’t get what I needed to get done for Nano, those goals have shifted their completion dates to Q1/2022.  Two weeks into January and I finally finished piecing together those sample drafts [first 10 pages] and have submitted them to the AWP conference ‘Author to Agent’ program to be reviewed by representatives from five different literary agencies. This was not actually planned – I just happened to see a post on IG in December about it. Their submission fee [in other circumstances, there is no fee to submit] required that I purchase a ticket [in-person or virtual] to the conference in March.  I sincerely hope that someone resonates with the story enough to reach out; it’s one that needs to be told.

Speaking of IG, I took a 3-week hiatus – again, part of the distraction – so I could simply, get shit done.

Don’t judge me! Ha. I don’t have a teapot.

For the first time since 2019, I did my goal board [remember last year? I ain’t even fill her out until, shoot, halfway through 2021]. It looks like Q1 and Q2 are going to be busiest for me in multiple areas of life. There are a lot of decisions to be made and as of now, most of everything is a giant question mark. Ew.

I’m currently in the middle of revising [heavily revising] my book proposal. Even though I have a semi-draft started from when I applied to the Hugo House fellowship in early 2020, it’s still very difficult to edit: I have to rework some chapter structures and review parts of the manuscript itself. It will need to be sent to an independent editor for review – one I have to pay for – and it ain’t cheap. I need a seasoned eyed to to glance over what I’ve come up with and add suggestions to tightened it up. I want to be as prepared as possible for when the time comes for me to go full throttle in the submission stage of this project. I’m following a blueprint I found online a couple years ago and am using my marketing skills from my day job to help me pull it together.

I’ve also been saying this for a while, but I’m actually going to get back to doing survivor interviews – conversations have been had with a few folks. It’s time [for real] to saddle up the horse. I have medium articles to revise, some to start, and a few to submit before March.

I’m hoping to be able to do a little more traveling this year [ugh, covid]. Maybe Minneapolis, Phoenix. Definitely Seattle - I miss my PNW friends and would love to break bread with them in person soon! I’ll take advantage of Chicago spring/summer events, starting from the bottom to build a network – it’s tough, but I’ve done it before. I can do it again. Lord.

Everyone keeps asking, “HAVE YOU MADE ANY FRIENDS YET?!”

I moved here late fall and we’re knee deep into winter so the answer is ‘no. I have not.’

And that’s ok. The alone time is nice.

Mood Music: Me, Myself and I - Beyonce

The 9th Inning: NaNoWriMo 2020

 

Des Moines, Iowa

I was hesitant about participating in Nano this year; 2020 has been, undoubtedly difficult.

Between the pandemic, social uprising, political brawls and general confusion, it was hard to full concentrate using a mind that has been bloated to endless fatigue with news saturation.

My creative impulses hit a wall just as my anxiety levels accelerated. The abrupt shifts that keep happening nationwide [and on a personal/professional level], make it hard to see a future.

I’ve settled into my temporary new home, but the reverberation from the summer madness still tickle my ears every now and again. The scramble to get out of Seattle had an impact and has forced me to introspect more deeply about what is to come.

Moving from a super liberal city with stringent COVID protocols, back to a red state whose Governor is “leaving it in the hands of the people,” doesn’t build my confidence as a returning resident – the number of fucks not given is both disheartening and dangerous.

Like most, I’ve been on autopilot heading into the winter, simply trying to get through the day. I noticed many writers are carrying a comparable attitude toward Nano…

 F*ck. I'm just tired. This year has been A LOT.

---

I remember participating in Nanowrimo during the 2016 election. I was going through a breakup; the fluctuating emotions surrounding those events couldn’t stop me. I pushed through - read about it, here.

I'm doing it again in 2020 for similar reasons - an attempt to about-face that energy into something more productive. It’s not as easy as in the past; I don't have the same amount of vigor, inspiration or drive. I really, really have had to try this time. 

I'm not doing this out of obligation, I’m doing this because it is way to hold myself accountable. Simply put: making progress on my book helps me feel better; of the many things I have no control over, this is the one thing I do. Even if I get out 250 words a day, I'm ok with that. Even if I have to skip a day [or four], that's fine. “As long as it’s something,” I told myself.

For this round, I’m focusing on the years 2014 & 2015 [Chapters 9 & 10 respectively - this may change as I move along and do more editing]. These were damn good years for me – I was curious in my career and motivated in my recovery. I gleaned lot from the people in my circle: everyone was a tool used to understand more about myself.

I was bold and courageous – striking out on my own to attend MeetUp events, networking groups, social clubs, and dance classes. I talk about taking my life back and deciding to [both literally and figuratively] write my own story.

The desire to reflect on something lighthearted and exciting is not lost on me, given our current circumstances. I teared up a bit, reminiscing on the early stages of newfound girlfriends and former admirers. Shook my head at some of the not-so-boss moves I made during certain points of my career. That is ok. You live. You learn.

---

In the beginning, I created a schedule to adhere to – it didn’t stick. I got wrapped up in the election melee, doom scrolling through social media and the endless commentary on the results. I wondered the possibilities and what this meant. Most of my anxiety was put at ease about a week after CNN made their final call.

Cool.

But then I woke up with a cough and a sore throat - the anxiety crept in again. My body was beginning to fail me in all the right ways, making it harder to concentrate on Nano goals and creativity. I needed to get tested to calm my nerves – luckily, I was cleared of COVID. Thank, God. I can rest easy.

This has been the longest month ever, the longest year ever and quite frankly, I’m glad it’s over [or about to be]. I will sleep for December and see you all in 2021 my friends!

Mood Music: Let’s Take A Ride - Justin Timberlake

My Obligatory 'New Years' Post.

 

Anchorhead Coffee

It is officially the start of a new decade.

How Does That Feel?

I’m going to be honest, the realization that an entire decade has elapsed, is surreal.

For a lot of Millennials, it was our first decade as adults – we were thrust into this new world as “contributing members of society,” only to come face-to-face with a recession.

Remember that?  I do.

In 2009, I was 21 and a junior in college. Twenty-fucking-one.

For reference, I’m edging thirty-fucking-two in 30 days.

I started undergrad at 18 with the assumption that I would:

go to college > get a good job > date> marry well > have a baby > discover life with my “new” family.

In exact that order.

Listen, the dreams of the typical Midwesterner are simple: you basically mirror what your parents did. Perhaps fall off-the beaten path for a few years, but eventually make your way back home.

A recession was not in the cards nor the proliferation of technology that would go on to complicate the dating landscape. Don’t even get me started…

I remember breaking up with my long-term boyfriend in 2012 and thinking: “how am I supposed to meet people?!”  Tinder wasn’t quite a thing yet and being social outside of an academic structure seemed unlikely for me.

I was pushed toward the pits of hell called “online dating” – OkCupid, Match.com.  Truth be told, I had been meeting people off the internet since my MySpace days, but we don’t need to talk about that…

My psychic abilities failed to tell me I would be making my way into the arctic jungle full of fake progressives known as Minneapolis, let alone the west coast.

Or have brain hemorrhage.

The universe cackles.

Obviously, this was my biggest challenge and subsequent triumph of the decade. My core was shaken: physically, mentally and emotionally. Shit got real. Radiation. Rehab. Depression. “WhAt Am I dOiNg WiTh My LiFe?!”

That whole bit.

I decided to start a blog when no one was blogging anymore.

Lol.

And now I’m writing a book about it.

---

I lived this past decade as a 20-something:

The opportune time to make mistakes without critical judgement. More often than not, people will blame your stupidity on your youth. Trust me, I’ve made a lot of mistakes and continue to fuck up every now and again.

I’d like to think I have the tools to process and navigate those situations with much more ease, these days.

The Quaffle.

Thank you, life. Shitty relationships. Aimless career moves. Precarious situations I had no business being in. Bad sex. Poorly maintained friendships. Lemon drop shots and 15 years of therapy off and on.

If you catch me in a good mood, on the right day, when I’m not ovulating and the weather’s nice…I’ll probably still be down for a lemon drop shot.

Also: when we’re talking about fuck ups, your mileage may vary.

If you did it right, you brought some major keys with you into your 30s.

If you did it wrong [and by “wrong,” I simply mean: you spent zero time in introspection and learned nothing] you will repeat those gaffes in your 30s.

If you’re like most of us, you did some half-ass introspection and self work only after an terrifying situation woke you the fuck up, somewhere between the ages 27-32. That first BIG meltdown is a doozy.

You realize how difficult putting the actual work in is and decide to “do the rest later.”

Let’s be clear: in certain areas, you will not get the same grace at 30 that you would have at 25.

My most recent ex learned this the hard way.

In 2009, I couldn’t wait for college to be over. I was one of the not-so-lucky-few that had tumultuous college experience, leaving me with little to no friends, no contacts and no network to tap into.

Next to that, the world was telling me that my financial future was bleak.

I was still hopeful and bright-eyed – yes, the economy was a big heaping pile of shit, but I just knew I could sift through it and figure it out.

I had time and naivete on my side.

You don’t know what you don’t know…until you do.

---

It is officially the start of a new year.

What Does That Look Like?

I’m sure you’ve read tons of articles hearkening in 2020, reflecting on the past year. My 2019 – as I mentioned in my Instagram stories – was subpar. Not all of it, but a lot of it.  The downward trajectory began in mid June after returning to Seattle from my trip home.

Unfortunately, things that I thought would get done, did not get done; there were a lot of fails and setbacks both personally and professionally.

It wasn’t a great year, guys.

A lot of my personal goals are heavy. Large. They take time. Energy. Effort.

My thoughts about 2020 are this: I am optimistic. I know everyone is declaring 2020 as their year, but I feel it in my spirit that I will finally bring to fruition some of the projects/goals I’ve been working toward over the past 4 years.

Honestly, it’s like being back in undergrad with a better support system, more money, slightly better sex and a bit more insight into how the world works.

I guess that’s all I can ask for.

Cheers!

Mood Music: We Are Young - Fun ft. Janelle Monae

You Show Me Yours. I'll Show You Mine.

 

Zeitgeist Coffee

Although we’re closing another summer, I would be remiss if I left out the very relevant Narrative Writing workshop I attended late July, hosted by author, Ingrid Ricks.

In-between frequenting live music events, floating down rivers, hikes and my brief dating stint [Tinder is still trash] my book project remains center focus – I had to find a way to return home.

The workshop was held at Hugo House, a creative space/resource for local writers in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. I was excited and slightly nervous to be in the company of up-and-coming artists – it was a chance for me to dive further into my story, bounce ideas off of and hear feedback from my peers.

It was a held on a beautiful Sunday afternoon; I needed the fresh air, so I took the light rail transit and decided to walk to the location.

When I arrived, I was greeted by a diverse group of men and women, ready to absorb the information granted by Mrs. Ricks; eyes open, laptops wide, pads and papers waiting to be filled.

We started with a quick, round room introduction: one by one, all fifteen of us shared our names, our intention for participating in the workshop and what we hoped to gain from it.

Mrs. Ricks went on to talk more about her credentials and how she came to build the program:

Ingrid Ricks is a memoir author, with a deep background in journalism. Her NYT Bestseller, Hippie Boy, examines her life growing up in a dysfunctional Mormon family. She is now is a memoir coach and workshop instructor in the greater Seattle area. Check out Ingrid’s website, here.

Throughout the 3-hour workshop, we used various writing exercises to demonstrate our understanding of the following narrative writing principles:

• STRUCTURE

• CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

• VOICE

Before hopping into those foundational elements, we talked about Identifying Your Story which we all had completed as preliminary homework to prepare for the workshop. She lists several questions, including: what is the most emotionally difficult challenge you’ve had to deal with in life so far? to help guide the writer in finding their story.

We already know that my stroke is the focus of my book – it was and continues to be, the hardest event I’ve lived through.

Beginning with STRUCTURE, the key questions asked here are: where to you start? Where do you end? What do you put in? What do you leave out?

Using my memoir as an example: it begins in 2012, ends in 2017. Begins at age 24, ends at age 30. Begins in Minneapolis, ends in Seattle.

This is an extremely critical time in young adulthood; to put it frank: a lot of shit went down. Not everything I experienced during this period, is getting in the book. Many, many stories did not and will not make the cut – it’s impossible – well maybe not impossible, but irrelevant to the central story.

Ricks talks about starting with a key conflict, an action, so that the reader is drawn in immediately.

I’m personally using my continual drive down Highway I-35 N - a crucial element in my story - and my stay at a shady hotel for a couple of weeks, while I attempted to find a permanent place to live [via craigslist], as a jumping off point.

Boom.

The next principle we discussed was CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. We were asked to write about one of our characters and make note of sensory information to describe them: what do they look like? Smell like? What do they sound like? etc.

My story contains a number of amusing and interesting people – from my mousey, punk rock landlord I talked about here, to my old boss: the petite, nearly elder old-school Italian who wore a gold chain and sported peek-a-boo chest hair.

Whip It Good.

There was a secondary bullet point under character development worth discussing: dialogue. Quiet honestly, I’m horrible at writing lines of conversation – I try to remember certain exchanges I’ve had with people; my attempt at matching the overall basis of the conversation for recreation is dubious.

Ricks has 2 general rules for dialogue:

• It’s not what’s being said, but how it’s being said and what the character is doing while saying it.

• What are you, the narrator, thinking and feeling in response to the dialogue?

For my book, it’s difficult to pinpoint specificity in past conversations from that time frame – given what has happened to me, it certainly makes sense. I have a feeling that there will be some sort of limitation on the amount of dialogue that is written. I’m not saying, “West Seventh” [working title] won’t have dialogue, it will, but I’m pretty sure there won’t be much.

The last principle is VOICE. I found an article by the Writing Cooperative on what voice is… and what it isn’t:

“The writer’s voice doesn’t include only wording, grammar or structure: it’s much more. It’s the personal way the writer sees the world, how he translates it. We all see an orange the same way, however, when describing it, each one of us will use our own approach and perspective. I can describe its color, you, its texture, others its taste…It isn’t the writer’s writing style, it isn’t his technique, it isn’t his brand. The writer’s voice is not something you can measure, it’s subjective. But, even so, possible to be defined and identified.”

The way that I write, particularly creative non-fiction, is generally the way that I talk. Ingrid also drives home the idea of authenticity: she notes that it’s “easy to tell when a story doesn’t ring true,” and this is a fact – your readers are looking for something real; if you’re spotted as a fraud, you lose their trust.

Listening to my peers read their work during this workshop, made me a little insecure about my level of writing capabilities; some of them are very experienced.

I’ve been told that, the way to reach confidence in this area, is to keep writing.

It’s easy to spot your short comings when you’re playing the comparison game.

So don’t – their journey is not your journey; it’s likely that they may feel just as insecure as you do.

On my way back to the light rail, I felt more motivated. The fire that lay dormant inside me was lit. Since the workshop, I’ve made significant progress. I’m hopeful that, in terms of my writing, the remainder of 2019 will be just fine.

Mood Music: In Due Time - Outkast

Reset to Redirect.

 

Cascade Coffee Works

Yes, it has been awhile – grab a cup of coffee and let’s chat:

The anticipation of my dance recital has come and gone; it was both a thrilling and exhausting experience. TakePause offered a performance full of collaborations: modern dance, tap, ballet and sprinkles of hip hop.

Over half of the participants were in multiple pieces – namely those who were no stranger to this particular program. I, on the other hand, chose to participate in 1 piece as a precaution; I wasn’t sure what to expect and didn’t want to make a massive commitment.

My group’s performance was placed near the end of the 2-hour show. This meant I had to sit in a puddle of anxiety before my debut each night.

Friday was by far the best and most taxing: the kickoff show. Most would agree that this production put out an extraordinary amount of energy. From the instructors, students and the crowd - everyone was extremely HYPE. For the dancers on stage, this drove us to dance harder and smile wider, giving the people what they want.

My friends decided they would join the Friday evening crowd, showing their unyielding support by yelling my name and cheering me on.

The entire production reminded me of showcases I’ve previously been in: theater performances and choir ensembles from ninth grade through my senior year of college [I was in the “Vagina Monologues” twice!] I became energized by the chaos happening backstage – lots of hair spray, makeup, people practicing their routines in the hallway. Rouge, purple and blue eye shadow, fishnet stockings.

The dancers acted as marketers, engineers, accountants, public servants, retired teachers in their day to day lives; they all had varied levels of experience. Some were true beginners; others have been dancing for years.

Into the City: SLU

Needless to say, by Sunday, I was ready to be done.

The remainder of May saw me entertaining an out-of-town cousin who came to visit Seattle and general research – personally and professionally – that will help lay the ground work for the rest of 2019.

In June, I took a mid-year trip home for 3.5 weeks – a much needed reprieve from fast life in the city. Before arriving in Iowa, I made a pit stop in Colorado to visit an old friend; we made space to reminiscence about our time as “Team Leads” at an Iowa based summer camp back in 2009. In between our long talks and meandering through Boulder, I was somehow convinced to tag along a hike at Estes Park - a beautiful excursion into the wonderment of nature.

Dream Lake - Estes Park, CO

Although I am not an outdoorsy person, I thought of this as a way to explore something new; I try to remain open minded. I also fell a few times on slick patches of snow – an unexpected surprise that left me with a giant bruise on my thigh. Lovely.

After my 3-day trip into the wild, I was ready for Iowa.

It felt good feel the presence of my parents – every time I return home, their aging becomes more and more evident. They ask me the same question they always do: “when are you moving back?”

I give them a blundering expression and respond with the usual: “I don’t know, yet.”

As enjoyable as it was, by the end of the 3 weeks, I was ready to leave – part of me sad, the rest missing my autonomy and anticipating summer which officially began June 21.

The first 6 months of the year have been hectic – everyone around me has been a bit worn down and to be honest, I wasn’t all that refreshed upon my return.

I thought I would have had more time in Iowa, quiet time, to write - I did not - instead, I spent those moments catching up and eating. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I spoke with my parents about my corporate career, book plans, blog plans, plans in general, so although I was missing that “refresh,” I thought I needed, I came back focused.

Maybe that was my version of refreshed?

I’ve made progress since returning to Seattle, however, when I sit down to write, facts, details and stories can become incredibly overwhelming. We’ve talked about this before. There. Is. Just. So. Much. To make it easier, I break everything into smaller, individual stories: my transition to Minneapolis, my brief stint in grad school, the stroke itself, the recovery, all of my “alternative rehabs,” [dance, acting classes] and the men that I dated in-between etc.

Who is involved? What happened? When? Where? Why?

[You know, the stuff I learned in Journalism 101 ions ago, ha].

I figured once I get the stories together, I can fill in the gaps with connection points that ultimately bring everything together. Wish me luck!

 Mood Music: BabyBird - Chloe x Halle

She's a Dancing Machine.

 

El Diablo Coffee

I never write, in detail, about the coffee shops I visit – to be fair, there’s never much to say about these particular spaces. For the most part, they are designed in a standard and quite uniform manner. But this one is interesting.

I’m posted up in Queen Anne – El Diablo – inside a two story Victorian style house, embellished in gaudy trim. The name itself reminds me of something out of the “Addam’s Family,” but less macabre; the home is painted in salmon and white. It doesn’t exactly help, though, that a devilish painting greets you at the entrance.  

Sitting in the open space on the second floor, the slanted ceilings house intermittent windows that shimmer God’s light.

 I try to guess what this area used to be; I’m not well versed in Victorian architecture. I literally have no fucking idea.  A make shift wall separates a group of well-coordinated tables and chairs from a bar. Just beyond the bar is a door leading to an outside deck. Freedom.

---

My dance recital is around the corner and to be completely honest, I’m kind of nervous. That shouldn’t come as much of a shock - most people, particularly those who are not trained in performance art - would feel the same. To be in front of a crowd, hundreds of people - to bare your soul on stage - takes a certain amount of courage. It’s been something I’ve wanted to explore since moving to Seattle. The last time I performed for an audience, was an Improv class I took in Minneapolis about a year or so after my stroke. The Arts have played a significant role in my overall healing process.

 Dance.

Devil in a Pink Skirt.

Movement and music were my alternative versions of rehab: the dance instructor puts together choreographed routine that is repeated with each rehearsal – stag leaps, staggered movements, ronde de jambes in my case. Over and over again; it’s muscle memory. We breathe in unison. She calls our piece, “Rush”. It starts slow and is drawn out - there’s a sense of urgency that billow with each turn. Eventually the music flattens to a plateau and descends toward the end.

I watch the videos back and notice I look stiff. I don’t like this - it tells me I’m holding back somewhere. Loosen up. Trust your body. Feel the music. I get scared to make a mistake – I’ve done it before in rehearsal and roll my eyes, “ooooh my GOD!” I say under my breath and try to catch up where I’ve lost.

 Write.

In terms of my continued writing, I’ve spent some time recounting life in my small apartment in Hopkins, MN. The memory is a strong one; it was the first time in my adult life, that I lived alone. I stayed in that tiny abode for about 3 years before relocating to Seattle. It was my place of refuge when I desperately needed it. I went back to the website of the property management company for research - it seems some things have changed, including the price. Yikes!

 I made a point to remember some of the ups and downs in this [very] short passage below:

 “She coined this phase: “Sex and the City” single. Ages 26-29; the broker, blacker version of Carrie in all of her flaws. Knollwood Towers: the ambit of much pain and great pleasure. Isolated nights, she sunk deep within her blankets to muffle her screams as her anxiety and depression bubbled to the surface. Chain smoking on the balcony in times of distress. Make out sessions, movie nights, I love you’s, I hate you’s. The antiquated vanilla cement-brick building was built in 1969 - each unit had a balcony attached either front facing or to the back. She paid a monthly rent of $650 that would later hop to $700 - utilities baked in, with one parking space in the garage. A flat fee of $100 gave her ample coverage during the harsh Minnesota winters and extra storage space for overflow of her belongings.”

Never forget. I’m interested to see what else I remember.

Mood Music:  Gymnopédie No.1 - Erik Satie