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

Back for Nanowrimo 2021.

 

Chicago, IL

It’s been roughly six months – I’ve missed you! I took the summer off of my book project to ‘get it together’ if-you-will.  Last time I wrote, I was at the tail end of an aggressive interview season, tooting my own horn for seven different companies (four to five rounds a piece), answering repetitive questions and participating in writing assignments for free (I will no longer do this, tuh!). It’s difficult for most neurotypical people to tolerate, let alone someone with a processing disorder.

When the rejections started rolling in, I spiraled into a depression.

I snagged this cup at the checkout line in TJ Maxx. They got me.

Straddling the fence between appreciation for the stability and my eagerness to leave having no where to go, left me despondent. I felt stuck.

My desire to pivot out had been long established: I tried to break away for two years but kept getting drop-kicked in the face.

After six ‘nos,’ one organization said ‘yes.’  I gladly accepted.

The industry sector I work in, is competitive. There are many specializations: content marketing, digital marketing, product marketing, email marketing, corporate communications, public relations etc. that often blend together.

It is a very teachable skill - we’re not doctors - but for some reason, other people couldn’t see it for me.

This was not my first rodeo: over the last 10/11 years, I’ve gone through several cycles or ‘sprints’ of interview stages for months on end. I thought I would be able to move within my organization; I thought they would be my ‘home’ company. I clearly thought wrong and grew very bored, tired and restless attempting to try.

Finally coming out from underneath a rock holding a new opportunity for advancement, gave me hope.

---

Further into to summer, I decided to have my tonsils removed; problems persisted in my throat that needed to be addressed. They had to go – it was a pricy surgery, but worth it.

The healing process took roughly three weeks before I was on to the next task:

“How am I going to get out of Iowa?”

The pandemic brought me back home and although it was wonderful to be among family, reconnect with childhood friends and dive head first into the best relationship of my life (so far), something unseen tugged at my spirit.

I missed the city life and decided to resume my 2019, pre-pandemic game plan to relocate to Chicago.

Needless to say, I’ve been busy. So busy, my book project took a back seat.

Between mid-June and August,  I wrote a few articles to get my feet wet again (you can find them here on my medium page) but the pang from pushing my core project to the side, whispered to me at night.

---

Nanowrimo is my time to focus. Instead of aiming for the traditional 50,000 words, I have a list of sub-projects to complete in preparation for the larger one – if you have been following me for a while, I’ve likely written about them:

1. Week One: Blog Updates
   Nurturing my reader base and interviewing survivors is fundamental in supporting this community. These are stories that need to be told. Please stay tuned.

2. Week Two: Edits My First 10 Pages
   Early in 2021, I submitted the first 10 pages of my book for review to a literary agent – she’s a seasoned vet, well versed in memoir writing. Her guidance and recommendations are necessary for making me a better writer. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to implement any of those changes.  Until now.

3. Week 3: Polish My Book Proposal
   At the top of 2019, I created submission packet for a fellowship in Seattle that included a book proposal section. The fellowship didn’t land, but I consider it a win regardless.  The proposal just needs some shining.

4.  Week 4: Just Write
   I have a few article ideas I want to start outlining for my medium page and other publication outlets. It’s time to bring those pieces to life.

In November I return to my purpose: more centered, more grounded, more focused.

Mood Music: Everything in its Right Place - Radiohead

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

Ready. Set. Goals [2019].

 

Little Oddfellows Coffee

The intensity of December bled into January: although the tension of the holidays slowly started to wane, the whirlwind of it all could still be felt throughout the impending month.

January 1st was amazing in ways I can’t fully explain: the year literally started with an explosion, however, once I threw water on the blast…the fire died. I had to move on.

Little Mural

No time for quarreling – more important people, places and brain scans to worry about.

It wasn’t until recently that I took the time to reflect on the major milestones [and failures] that occurred in 2018.

Yes, I wrote my annual goal board the morning of January 1st. I do this every year: things that I want to accomplish, habits I want to put in place etc.

But taking a minute to have real, honest reflection? I woke up in the middle of the night – this isn’t unusual, my room had gotten warm – only to look up from my pool of sweat and stare at the wall in contemplation. Then go to the bathroom.

This was my time.

First and foremost, my Costa Rica trip was one of my biggest exploits of 2018 - it came with a quiet nervousness that plagued me the entire trip. Between the language barrier and the general unease of being alone in a foreign country, I learned a few things:

• Solo travel outside the US is not for me; I like to share the experience. And the responsibility.

• Brush up on the language, bruh. C’mon. Common sense.

• Just ask. Someone will help you.

• People are much, much happier with less: between the locals who operate with, in my opinion, the bare minimum to the travelers passing through with just a few items – who is really winning?

My massage therapist was a Miami native who left Florida – she was deeply unhappy with her life and wanted a “do-over”. The young woman moved to Costa Rica, started her own business as a single mother and now enjoys the ease and comfort of the small-town, coastal life. #Getitgurl.

• It is totally possible for me to try new things and be fearless, but:

• My anxiety is a real thing.

• It is hot as balls is Central America.

• I must lean-in or step into my truth – this became the impetus for change of direction with my book [recap of that adventure, here].

I returned to the states unscathed, refreshed and relieved. So much so, that I took the plunge and cut my hair - the relaxer had to go!

Don’t worry, I had been thinking about doing it for months! Read my afterthoughts, here.

Did I get through 80% of my book? Hell no. It took me a couple of months [*cough* 5] to even crack the laptop open after my decision to pivot.

The beginning of 2018 was eaten up by preoccupation with “the move”: my roommate and I left one part of the city for another. We spent months attempting to find a place that was practical for the both of us: Truilia, Zillow and Craigslist listings be damned! We found our happy medium.  Flashback to that drama, here.

With a series of unfortunate back to back events rounding out fall to winter, I crashed right into my Grandmother’s death in December.

2018 was…a hot ass mess to be honest.

In 2019, I propose a turn-around.

It may be easier said than done though: January has been…interesting. Good part: I’ve found space to write, gaining clarity within the story. The therapy helps.

I was listening to the “Happier with Gretchen Rubin” podcast, episode 201: she talks about having a one-word theme for the year – I’ve heard of this concept before.

One word that you can repeatedly comeback to, throughout the year – a reminder of your overall goal. My word for this year is: Focus.

The first draft of my book can and will get done with Focus.

I can create discipline with Focus.

For the LOVE OF GOD, I can legitimately find a writer’s group with Focus [and motivation].

Still working on finding that writer’s group. It’s on my list every year. Ugh.

Baby steps. Pray for me, ya’ll.

Mood Music: The Glow - Victoria Monet

Truth Slayer: Finding Your Voice

 

Stone Way Cafe

In this last recap of Mary Karr’s “The Art of Memoir,” I wanted to hone in on authentic truth-telling, i.e. finding your voice. I talked about this topic before in a previous post, here – the point was to talk specifically about the mechanical aspects of expression; to tap into your flow, which closely aligns with uncovering your voice.

In chapter 4, “A Voice Conjures the Human Who Utters It,” Karr articulates what she defines as “voice”:

“Voice isn’t just a manner of talking. It’s an operative mindset and a way of perceiving that naturally stems from feeling oneself alive inside the past. That’s why self-awareness is so key. The writer who’s lived a fairly unexamined life – someone who has a hard time reconsidering a conflict from another point of view – may not excel at fashioning a voice because her defensiveness stands between her and what she has to say,” [p.36-37].

People are layered and complicated. Looking back presents an opportunity to confront the past and step into the shit that is your truth.  

I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of and I’m terrified to let the world take a peek – partly in fear of judgement, but as Karr says:

“…the more memorable the voice, the truer a book sounds because you never lose sight of the narrator cobbling together his truth – not everybody’s agreed on version,” [p. 41].

I’ll heed her advice when retelling one of many personal defining moments in post-adolescence: temptation and curiosity that summon my own naivete – a marker of the end of a proverbial chapter and the beginning of the next. The way that this anecdote unfolded was cowardice, but there is a greater lessen here.

This is when I discovered that my twenties were not meant to be an “us” thing. It was meant as a “me" thing – I was going to have to go at it alone. I needed to be selfish. I understood, on a surface level, that I didn’t want to be tied down.  I also understood that it was not my place to force my dreams onto someone else. The only thing I didn’t understand, was how to execute appropriately. I didn’t have the guts or the language.

At the time, I was new to the city and had been staying in the basement of a family in Bloomington, MN. My boyfriend Aiden* and I had decided that it would be easier if I moved in with someone on a month-to-month basis, while I wait for his arrival. This meant that we would continue our long-distance relationship for a little while longer.

I had a curious fervor to explore all of the things I had been missing in Iowa, which in hindsight, is kind of comical considering Minneapolis is a third/fourth tier city. Everything is relative, I guess. From my humble perspective, the city would offer me a more colorful type of experience. Des Moines was too familiar and lacked job opportunity with career growth.

Well before I made the move [initiated by my acceptance into a grad program], I toyed with the idea of Chicago or even Kansas City. Minneapolis made the most sense: the school I wanted to go to was there, my job had an office in Bloomington as did my boyfriend’s company. We had been doing the long-distance thing for over a year – this would be our chance to physically be in the same space again.

It felt like the universe was giving me clear direction: Cake. Platter. Go.

So I did.

A cousin of mine was in undergrad playing football at the same university as my graduate program.

Over the course of several months, I got to know his social circle – a group of brawny, stout football players – most of whom were under 5’9 and cared more about sex and booze then studying. I should have known better. There was one that I was drawn to – shipped straight from Brooklyn, NY. He couldn’t have been more different from my boyfriend: Dominican and athletic, barely stringing together a sentence.

Terry* was a super, super senior – he gave credence to the term “dumb jock” but had the type of masculine prowess and “swag” that Aiden didn’t.

[I later found out that Terry’s super, super, super senior status came from him having to drop for a year or two to help his family back in NYC].

I heard through the grapevine that Terry was smitten with me. Everyone knew that I was in a relationship with some “white boy” but no one cared enough to respect those boundaries. Through a series of orchestrated events, he and I found ourselves at the same parties, same bars and same clubs that ultimately led to a tryst; my infidelity that contributed to the destruction of the plan that Aiden and I had. If I am being honest, I wanted to breakup with him and needed an out.

Shortly after our intoxicating night with Terry, I immediately called one of my cousins back in Iowa, sobbing at what had taken place. I knew I had fucked up.

My cousin told me that it would be OK and that I should consider telling him.

I didn’t know how.

Aiden and I met up in Iowa the following weekend – it was the halfway point for us, since he still lived on the Illinois side of the Quad cities. I had a fun weekend planned, but it was halted when I decided to break up with him in the middle of the night. I woke up bleary-eyed and told him it wasn’t working anymore; I pretended to be talking in my sleep. I wasn’t quite sure he heard me - he did and attempted to wake me up to discuss.

I rolled over and whispered, “it’s nothing. I didn’t say anything. Go back to bed”.

He knew I was lying.

The next morning, he packed his shit and left. We didn’t speak for weeks.

When everything cooled down, we were able to have a lengthy exchange about what happened: I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation - who initiated what, how long it lasted etc. I just knew the relationship was done and that chapter was over.

Aiden and I were together for 1.5 years.

Karr states multiple times throughout her book, that you cannot deceive your audience; it’s not going to work. Period. The reader will know you’re bullshitting,

“If the reader intuits some deception or kink in the writer’s psyche that he can’t admit to, it erodes the scribbler’s authority,” [p.37].

Part of what makes writing a memoir so difficult, is reliving and reflecting on the not-so-fun chunks.

I’m almost certain that Aiden is doing well, living life and is in a happy long-term relationship, somewhere in small-town Illinois [I Facebook stalked]. Good for him. He is a simple man who desired a simple life.

Clearly, that was not going to work for me.

Mood Music: Retrograde - James Blake

*not real names

...And The Livin' Is Easy.

 

All City Coffee

Summer has officially arrived – and thank GOD. Like Minneapolis, Seattle only gets 4-5 solid months of clear, sunny weather. This poses a bit a problem when it comes to writing - at least for me. I’m less likely to spend my time isolated, ruminating over past events for my memoir, when a rooftop happy hour is on the docket.

I’m 30, flirty and thriving -  “suns out/guns out” or however that saying goes, right? I’d rather “seize the day” at a beach, wonder around the streets of Cap Hill or bounce from vendor to vendor at music festival while I can.

But if I’m truely honest with myself, I will admit that I am a little apprehensive – it’s still challenging for me to work inward and backward: I talk about that struggle here.

There are certainly times I don’t feel like rehashing the event – it's depressing and quite frankly, I have some lingering anger and insecurity [most of which is because I still and will continue to wrestle with the residual effects of a hemorrhagic stroke, but you know. Whatever].

I want to remain in my bubble. I want to float. 

It is going to take some deep, deep work with my therapist to really gut everything…and I’m not ready.

Unfortunately, the immediate stressors of The Move, interpersonal relationships and career stuff [for lack of a better term] ate up a lot of time in my sessions these past few months.

As my therapist, *Dan would let me guide the direction of the sessions [as he should] and because of the urgency of the items listed, we would often stay there. Basically, I had a lot of shit going on that needed solving and didn’t really have the mental energy to get into the past.

In the meantime, between time, I’ve got some prep work to-do:

The Move took me to another part of the city that may only be 8 miles away from where I was, but in traffic, could take a day’s journey to reach Dan.

What does this mean?  Well, unfortunately, I have to find a new therapist – ok, I don’t have to, but if I stayed,  we  wouldn’t see each other as often. That’s not going to work for the kid. #itsohard2saygoodbye.

Ugh. It took me forever to find Dan -- I have enjoyed working with him, but I am a person of convenience: he doesn’t have weekend availability and seeing him every 6-7 weeks when I go get my braces tightened, will only work for so long.

[His office is nearby my Orthodontist for those who are wondering].

So add, "the search" to my giant list of things that desperately need to get done. Perhaps when the sun goes down for the season?

As I’m settling into my new spot, in a more “colorful” neighborhood [amazing mountainous views included], I think about how I fully plan to remain committed to the goal – believe me, when I’m not working on the book, I think about it. I’m always reminded that this is a story that needs to be told. It just takes a lot for me to bring it out and that’s ok. Lord help me. Ha.

Mood Music: Summertime - Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

*not real name

Do You Remember The Time?

 

QED Coffee

A couple of things:  I cut all of my hair off. Well, not completely, but damn near. And I got a nose piercing. Again. [I’ve had it done twice before].

I look markedly different. I guess. I had been wanting to cut my hair for a while – years actually. My strands were heavily damaged and I was sick of getting relaxers.

There were many times I would attempt to go natural and grow the relaxer out, only to have to deal with two different textures of hair.

In a fit of annoyance, I went on to continue spending another $60-80 on a perm.

Rinse and repeat.

At the top of 2018, I said, “fuck it.”

[Kind of. I did months of research on what to expect [lots of articles and YouTube videos]. Black hair can be beasty if you don’t really know what you’re working with. I had never really seen my hair in all of its' glory – all of the spirals, springs and coils – because social conditioning that tells us our hair is “bad” and “unkempt.” ].

In January I decided to grow my relaxer out one last time.

My anxiety was on high alert as I sat in the stylist’s chair for the big chop. I knew this was something I wanted to do – I just didn’t know what to expect.

Now, I could have done this myself; chop my own hair, but I am not at all handy with scissors.

Outside  QED - this place is quite small!

I showed him pictures of what I was thinking – a tapered cut. Longer on top, shorter on the sides.

He assured me it would look great.

“Are you ready?” He held a small chunk of my hair in one hand, cutting shears in the other.

“Yeah. Cut it.”

My breathing dramatically pulsated with every snip, until most of my hair covered the floor.

When he finished, I was stunned.

I still looked like me, but  a different version of me.

It’s been a month. I like it.

Not going to lie though, this whole thing has been a process: the first time I went out to a social event, I was apprehensive. To my surprise [and comfort] the cut was well received.

As bad as it sounds: I felt like I needed the validation – cutting your hair really fucking short is a big deal. At least for me. It’s a bold move, man.

It was at this particular outing, that I carried on a flirtatious rendezvous with one of the band members on the dance floor - we had met before and I wondered what he would think of my new do’.

He dug it and later asked me out on a date.

We ended up going for food the following week; he ended up, unfortunately, reminding me of my ex.

Hard. Pass.

Nice guy. Fun vibe, but nah.

This holds some sort of relevance, I promise!

In one of the writing manuals I’m reading, “Self-Made of Words: Crafting a Distinctive Persona in Non-Fiction Writing,” by Carl H. Klaus, he presents a  writing exercise that calls for the reader to write a short piece on a memorable experience. 

Sidebar: Carl H. Klaus is the founder of the pretigious University of Iowa Nonfiction Writing Program! Go Iowa!

Anyway: the idea was to reveal your personal thoughts and feelings in an effort to be self-revelatory:

“…only you can determine what you’re willing to reveal about your private thoughts and feelings. Yet self-revelation is so important an element in creating and projecting yourself that I can hardly ignore it.” [p.16].

Thanks to the triggering of the date, I wrote about my ex and the glorious [sarcasm] night we broke up.

Recalling this event was slightly traumatic, ha. But, I suppose I better get used to it – I’ll be revisiting a lot of memories that aren’t comfortable.

The book itself is about creating a sense of self in your writing: your persona, point-of-view – the discovery and projection. It’s…a little confusing, but I think I get it.

How I write my blog, my projections, style of writing and POV, are slightly different than how I pen an interview or a blog for work – that sort of thing.  

I struggle with finding a voice or, at least being consistent with that voice.

Like a lot of things in life…I’m testing the waters.

Mood Music: Down in Mexico - The Coasters