writing

What A Writing Community Does #sol16

| Shari Daniels

The month of March slipped away like a shadow into shade .

The challenge was to write a slice of life every day for the entire month of March and post it. Well, I made it 21 days out of 31.

21 blog posts in 31 days!  Although I did not accomplish the challenge of posting every day, I still am wearing my achievement cape like a superhero . Since I began my blog in 2012, writing a post every six months had become my going rate.  So, mathematically, I’ve increased my production from .005% to 66% if I keep up the pace.  My writing muscles are greased and the Bernice Brain has quieted long enough for me to put stuff out there.

If I were to be totally honest, it was not really the challenge that got me writing, it was this writing community.  Holy Kamoly.  I have never seen such an inspiring, encouraging, uplifting, dedicated, creative group of human beings.

Never once did I have a post sit there lonely without some cheers from my fellow writers, (and sometimes my mother).  Feedback is crucial to the writer, whether only a pat on the back for showing up to write or a serious shot of gratitude for writing something that was resonated with. Even more so, to give me another perspective in my own little narrow viewed world.  It is then that I really know my words were taken in.  Love that.

I anxiously awaited the posts of other slicers.  Sometimes I sought inspiration and it was the content or structure of another writer that made my own fingers later dance at the keyboard. Other times, I seriously didn’t wish to write at all and filled my coffee cup just to read and comment on other’s words.  It felt as if we were exchanging small gifts, enjoying each other’s company and allowing one another to get a little peek into the world of other teacher-writer-lovely-people.  Always, I felt a calm peace after reading other’s posts.

I am jealous of writers who have writing communities or writing groups that they meet with face to face on a regular basis.  I have yet to find that.  But, this community here is the closest I have come to realize I will ever get.  At least right now. I am so grateful to have had this.

Thank you to the writing teachers at Two Writing Teachers for the enormous amount of work this challenge must have added to their already busy days.  Their commitment to writing and fostering teachers who write is remarkable.

Thank you to Elisabeth Ellington who voiced she was taking the plunge to do the challenge this year.  I saw her tweet and there was this little nudge in me that said, “Do it.”  I needed her words to give me the confidence to take it on.

And, good heavens, thank you to anyone who took a few moments out of your busy lives to read my words and then to comment.  The comments kept me writing.  They told me that my words matter.

Such goodness.

And, now the pump is primed.

Shari 🙂

Who Are Your Secret Social Media Inspirationalists? #sol16

| Shari Daniels

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The other day, I came across a facebook post by an artist I adore, Rachel Caringella.  She wrote about how there are people on social media that we follow, read their words and are deeply inspired by.  It’s almost like we can feel a connectedness to them, as if we were best friends.  We share common passions, feelings and thoughts.  To be honest, we are like-minded-souls.  We may comment or message them, but really, many of them have no idea that we even exist.

In my mind, that is perfectly okay, if it makes us happy.

I need to share out more who these amazing people are that inspire and energize me. They need to know of their healing powers.  And, I just need to say thank you. Thanking them for the work that they do, for putting their words out there.  They nourish both the heart and soul of others.  They feed the mind.  It is my obligation to say thank you.

Today, this person was Debbie Ridpath Ohi.

She posted this illustration on her twitter feed:

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It knocked me out of my chair because I am supposed to be working on a project for one of my doctoral classes that is due tomorrow.  I can’t get the words out that I want on to paper, so I keep revising my plan.  I sheepishly peered by behind me.  Was there someone watching me?  Seriously?

“Who is this lady?” I asked my laptop.  I had to know.

It’s pretty easy to do investigative work online.  You just keep clicking on the links.  It turns out, she is children’s author, illustrator, reader, Donalyn Miller fan, and even shares (for free, mind you) teacher resources for readers.

I dove into her site and tweets, marveled by her illustrations and creative work.  Her words so encouraging.

Struck by her found art, I discovered her  you tube video to share with my third graders this week for art workshop.  Her instagram page is just too much.

I got lost in her world for over an hour.

Then, her words jumped on my screen:

“My biggest piece of creativity advice for writers & illustrators (all ages): make time to PLAY.”

Ummmm. . . yeah.  That was it.  I forgot to play before digging into my work.  I know this.  Why can’t I remember it?  It would open the flow.  I know.

I pulled out my notebook, printed some images, grabbed my paper tapes (oh, how I love my paper tape), scissors, glue stick, markers and did some playing.  20 minutes later. . .

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It surely was a Happiness Day for me.  Thank you Debbie for inspiring me and reminding me to play.  Your influence will spill over this week when I introduce you to my kids at school.  And, hopefully, to others who read my words thanking you.

This week, my slices are showcasing the inspirationalists I call my friends on social media.  They don’t really know me, but, I am letting them all know that what they do matters.

Who are your secret social media inspirationalists?

Shari 🙂

I’m participating in twowritingteachers March Challenge of posting a blog post every day for the month of March.  While I’ve missed a few days, I’m still in it for the long haul!  To check out other writers, visit here.

Stealing Ideas sol#16

| Shari Daniels

If you’ve read Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon, you know that nothing is really our own idea.  Every idea we’ve ever come up with was born somewhere else by someone else, somehow.  We can put a new twist on things, but honestly, a totally new idea is rare.  Old wine in new bottles.

Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, Big Magic, tells the story of how she believes there are these ideas floating around out there and they decide who to land on.  When you feel inspired with an idea, that’s the idea angels, fairies or whatever you want to call them.  If you don’t do something with that idea right away, it up and takes off from you and goes to someone else.  Gilbert documents a true story that proves this to be true – in her life.

Well, my truest inspiration, if I’m honest, comes from other writers.  I love when that little nudge from someone else’s writing whispers, “Try this, Shari!”  Sometimes it’s an idea about content because a memory is triggered.  But, what I find more beneficial is when I discover a structure because I can use it not just once, but again and again.  A writing structure is like a tool that can be pulled out anytime.  The more you use it, they easier it is to remember and to whip something up from it.  In the last few days, I’ve found quite a few structures that I intend to steal and try out – with a must of giving credit to my inspirational writers.

Elisabeth Ellington at the durigible plum, wrote in her sol today about small gratitudes.  Loved it.  I’m stealing it.

Here goes ~

I am grateful:

For the morning snuggles that keep me in bed too long

For the lab with a sprained leg that lies on the couch with a wagging tail as I walk to the kitchen to make coffee

For the scale that shed one pound the last time I stepped on it

For the deep dark Caffe Verona Starbucks beans that wait to be ground for my coffee

For the clean pair of jeans that beg to be worn

For the fresh inch of snow that blankets the ground (not)

For arriving at school before most others, savoring the quiet and preparing for the day

For the conversation with my soul-teacher-friend, drinking our coffee, before kids arrive

For Grace, who enters my classroom first, with a giant smile and a full wrap around the body hug because she is happy to be here

For Wonderopolis, because we wondered about four leaf clovers and St. Patrick and all things green and Ireland

For will power to refrain from the bars and desserts in the staffroom

For gratefuls.  Because once you start looking for them, they bombard you and you cannot document them fast enough

For Elisabeth Ellington who always seems to do something in her writing to inspire me

For the gumption to write a post today

For writing. Period.

Shari 🙂

 

 

 

Stepping Away To Restock The Well sol#16

| Shari Daniels

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Writing can consume you.

Even when you are not actually writing, you are preparing for writing by seeking the topic for which you might write about today.  Knowing you have to put a post out there each day adds that pinch of added pressure to pick something good, something worthwhile, something that others really care to even read.  I mean, do you really want to read about how my coffee maker overflowed?  Or all about the zipper that broke on my favorite pair of jeans? How about the fact that my dog is dragging old deer bones to the front door step now that the snow has melted?  Yes, these daily happenings could take me to deep, underlying themes of angst, aging and rebirth if I decide to go with some of these topics, but frankly, I just don’t want to go there.  Ugh. Blah. Meh – my daughter calls it.

It was time to step away for a bit.

I skipped two days of the 30 Day Slice of Life Challenge.

“This is okay,” I kept repeating to my “Bernice” brain.

I needed a little break.  Not from writing – but from writing for an audience.  Not everything we write is for the public eye.  Thank God.  Even though I had some content from my days that I could have crafted into a post, my inner writing angel, Gabby, nudged me away from the keyboard this weekend to travel with my husband to his swim meet five hours away.  Yes – to restock the well.  Prime the pump.  Collect new fodder.

Oh, how I love collecting fodder.

The collecting part of writing is where my pure bliss happens.  The not knowing what I will do with a noticing – or if it will grow into anything at all is not the concern.  All I am doing is collecting.  There is an inner joy when there is a shift into a “presentness” mode of being, a living wide awake. Arrival at this place, fills me with peace and contentment, the heart opens and expands as reminders of how connected we are to everyone and everything saturates every moment.

~the sweet coffee shop lady of Mexican decent (I think), a beautiful smile that lights up the shop, her voice like music.  I felt her healing morning blessings as she crafted my decaf dark-as-you-can-make-it latte with almond milk and a shot of hazelnut syrup.

“Can you do that?” I asked.

“Of course,” she comforted me, “It’s an art, you know”.

Can you fall in love with your coffee making lady?  Umm. . . yes.

I left the coffee shop, my hands surrounding the warmth and love in a cup that was created for me.  Yes, I can feel that.  It’s a big deal.

~the college age boys slumped back in their stools at the restaurant bar, beers waiting for them to sip on, their attention – each of them, on their phones, few words spoken between any of them.  Yeah, I felt that, too.

~the waitress who swayed us away from the house soup.  “It has been sitting in the pot too long,” she warned us.  Again.  Felt it.

~my husband’s college buddies who show up to swim with him.  My husband is 52.   These boys shift to 22 year olds.  It’s pretty hard not to feel that.

My notebook filled faster than I could keep up.

My husband became annoyed at my wonderings.  “You’ll have to google that,” became his response to anything he really didn’t have an interest in investigating with me.  That’s ok.  It was my own senses on high alert.  His focus on driving or to get his swimming mindset on.  There’s no way he could keep up to me on my fodder collecting days.  A child, I am.  He’s lucky I do most of my wondering in my head.

The most miraculous thing happens when you tell yourself you are only “collecting” and not going to write.

You can not help but be driven to write.

It’s a little trick I play on myself.

I love it when I fall for it.

So, I’m out of being eligible for any prizes in the March 30 Day Slice of Life Challenge.  I’m okay with that.  I had to go with the ebb and flow of my own writing self.

And, my well is restocked.

Shari 🙂

 

 

Migration To My Sanctuary #sol16

| Shari Daniels

I could begin this as my boo-hoo tale of how my coffee spilled all over my writing desk ruining papers, a binder and several books.  But, there is great light in this dark tale.  The coffee stained desk was parked in my bedroom, the “winter writing space”.  Today, as the temperature climbed to near 50 degrees, the mess on my desk pushed me to clean up and migrate up to my three season Sanctuary above the garage.

The space heater was hauled in to warm it up a tad and then the move was on.  A few hours later, my soul welled up.  I sat, savoring the gratefulness I have for my husband who made sure that when we added on to our house, I’d have my own space. Love that man.

Let me tell you about my Sanctuary.

My writing desk is really just one of those cheap white tables that fold up – you’ve used them for graduations and garage sales.  Straight from Walmart.  I need lots of space on my desk to spread out as I tend to need several books at hand when I write.  I cover the table with a quilt, hand stitched years ago when my children were small.  Scraps of fabric found their way into this quilt from some of the dresses I made my girls when they were small.  Yeah. Heart stuff here.

Atop the quilt sits a statue of my guardian angel who reminds me to be fearless.  I discovered her years ago in a thrift shop. There’s a story. Feathers are also here – reminders of angels surrounding me.  Quotes and pictures of family adorn my bulletin board for inspiration and to fill my heart with joy.  I have a flower pot filled with fodder (quips and clippings) from random places that I can pull to prompt writing – my hatching station.  I need to write about that.

In the corner is my personal library and my comfy chair I bought myself for my birthday last year. When you turn 50, you can buy yourself presents.  Note to self:  write about the library.

Behind my writing table is my art journaling table.  If I am stuck for writing, I scoot over to art journal.  This clears my mind and always, something appears that needs to be written down.  Like magic.  It’s the angels, I know.

I didn’t even show you my sewing corner.  It’s a mess over there. 🙂

This room.  Days get lost up here.

Where creativity runs free and the muses reside.

A safe haven from the world out there.

My sacred space.

 

Doodle Revolution #sol16

| Shari Daniels

I’m in a little bit of a doodle frenzy lately.

The Doodle Revolution arrived on my doorstep a few weeks ago and I’m kinda hooked on doodling my to-do lists, school notes, and reflections on my day.  It seems the visuals stick in my head a little more than just written text.

So, this morning, I doodled a flow chart doodle of how I would LIKE my day to go – of course this is all speculation and open to diversions.  Like lesson plans, we must leave room for intuitive moments of flow that nudge us down a different path.  As enjoyable as side trips are, eventually, we need to get back on course in order to accomplish what we intend to accomplish.

After reflecting on my intended plans for the day, I probably would have had time to complete all of my tasks, but, the house was quiet, so my bed called me over for a nap (I forgot to draw that in – it’s really not a productive event though).  I also got lost commenting on Slice of Life stories for a tad bit of time (so many inspirational pieces out there).  Oh, and I researched Donald  Trump for a bit to affirm my belief of why he should not be president. (This was easy work.)  I also spent some time digging around for snacks and trying to decide if I should bake something but I didn’t because I figured I’d eat it all because no one else is home.  So, I ate chocolate chips.

Sigh. Smile.

Life is good.

 

 

 

 

 

5 Bullet Wednesday ~ #sol16

| Shari Daniels

It’s Day 2 of the Slice of Life Story Writing Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.  The mission is to blog daily for the month of March.  This is not an easy task.  Our days are full and often we think there is nothing much to write about.  But magic happens when you are on this mission to put something out to the world every day.  Stuff to write about appears. Everything appears blog worthy.  The issue then becomes what to choose.

I follow Tim Ferris, author of 4-Hour Work Week (even though I know that will never happen – I’m a teacher for Pete’s Sake) and am inspired by his 5 Bullet Friday posts.  The structure is easy for any kind of writing day, especially when you need to write something quick and have several ideas floating around in your head.  So, here goes.  My 5 Bullet Wednesday:

Book I Am Loving Right Now ~ All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.  I’m telling you, the writing in this book is so savory.  I can study a paragraph for an hour analyzing how Anthony Doerr tried to do that.  I often share my journey through this book with my third graders at school and they are in as much suspense as I am.

A Quote That’s On My Mind ~ “Living in a state of wonder involves creating space in our lives for storing up our impressions of the world, and reflecting on them.  There is something important about the storing up of things.  We are sorting, sifting and making sense of our thoughts and experiences.  And holding these things close-in a compulsively over-sharing culture-is a rare discipline.”  ~ Christina Crook

Clothing I’m Loving ~ The super clearance winter jacket I bought at Walmart FOR $19.00.  Yes, you heard it.  $19.00.  You’d never guess.  Dang, I love a good deal.

Song I’m Loving ~ Jake Owen’s Real Life.  I cannot help but dance around in my car when this song comes on the radio.

What I’m Wondering Today ~ Why did Jimmy Johns quit putting sprouts on their tuna club sandwich?  I really loved the sprouts.

There you have it.  Easy Peasy.  5 Bullet Wednesday.

Shari 🙂

 

Writing To Quiet The Voice

| Shari Daniels

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While readying myself to pen this post, I couldn’t get Bernice’s voice out of my head.  Bernice is my critic, my fear, my alter-ego and she likes to taunt me whenever I try to share some writing with the world.

Today, I actually heard these words come out of her nagging mouth, “You can’t call yourself a writer.  You have not blogged for months, your book proposals have been rejected, your e-book ideas sit in your notebooks and seriously, you are just plain too afraid of me showing up in your writing.  Give it up, Girly.”

I hadn’t heard these words in a while.  A long while.  When I do put my writing out there for the world on a regular basis, Bernice quiets down.  If I have a severe lapse, she shows up, louder and louder.  Funny that.  I’ve given her space to balk.

So, to show her she’s wrong, I came to one of my blogs today (my other is theliteratemind – just as neglected) to actually get back on track to feel more writerly today. I’ve been here so many times, I could write a book on that.  I’d call it Fear of the Keyboard.  I also need to remind myself that I AM A WRITER because I do put my pen to paper every single day.  Like breathing or brushing my teeth. My purpose for writing, however, on a daily basis is not to always share with the world, it’s to find my way in the world.

So, to inspire myself, I vowed to join along the writing journey of 800+ teachers in Kate Messenger’s Teachers Write Summer Camp.  Today’s lesson was on character sketches by Melonie Crowder, author of several books, Parched, Audacity and A Nearer Moon. I’m anxious to read these books after hearing Melonie’s voice in her writing lesson.

I enjoy creating character sketches.  My favorite ones are of my husband and children because I know them so well and they are interesting to observe and write about when they don’t know you are writing about them.  But, I’ve written a few character sketches sitting in airports and on airplanes that bring me back to that moment in a second when I reread them.  I decided to rummage through the notebooks. Here is one I found from a trip to Ohio a few years past.

When I travel alone, the one thing I’ve started to become apprehensive about is the unknowingness of who has purchased the airplane seat next to me. Before boarding the plane, I scan the waiting room for loners wondering which human it might be.  Once on the plane, I sit with my eyes attentive to the entry, eyeing passengers as they look for their seats.  I wait.  On this particular flight, I sat in my window seat for quite some time, beginning to think I was going to be lucky enough to have both seats to myself.  Just imagining it was bliss.

And then he appeared.

A large man, late 30ish, maybe 40’s, wearing a tattered and tight Harley jacket, carrying an Arby’s bag, began his stagger up the aisle.  “Please.  No,” I heard my insides quiver.  I scolded myself, “Shari, that’s terrible.  Be nice.  He might be a very kind man who could be here to teach you something.”  Ok.  Breathe. Look out the window.

The closer he got to my row, the more anxiety I had.  Sure enough, after looking at the seat row signs, he scrunched himself into the seat right next to me. I hugged the window a little tighter.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

“Hey,” he replied.

After settling in, he fumbled with his Arby’s bag and jumbo pop trying to adjust his seat bucket to accommodate him.  Waves of smells came along with him – tractor grease, a faint smell of farts, (can’t think of a better word here – sorry). I began to wonder if maybe gas of this sort just leaks out of some people all day when you eat the kind of stuff that’s in that Arby’s bag.

Then, he opened the bag.  Good Gloria Lord in Heaven.

This was not your average hamburger and fries kind of stench.  I was gyro-like with strange sauces.  That combined with the tractor grease and farts was enough to make my eyes water.  I turned my head to window wishing I could open it for a whiff of fresh air or of hopes of a lady behind me with strong flowery perfume I could inhale.  Sadly, behind me was another fairly large man with a bad breath issue.  Yes, I could smell it.

I wished for a sedative.

Shut your eyes.  Breathe, Shar, meditate.  Imagine yourself laying in a field of wild flowers or fresh cut hay.  Deep breaths, one – two in, one – two out. Relax.

The Arby’s bag began to rattle.  He’s going in.  My meditation cracks.  I decide not to open my eyes.

Breathe.The stench increases three fold.  Oh my heavens – WHAT is that??????  I’m suffocating.  I should go to the biffy.  No.  He will have to move, too.

Stick it out. Breathe.  Sleep.  Breathe.I drift off. . .

I stopped writing after that.  Too traumatic.  But, I think this guy would be a wonderful character in a story about how we learn something from each person we meet. I could have had a conversation happen in real life.  But, I slept.  Wasted an opportunity.  At least there is still an chance to make it happen in my story.

Thank you, Melonie, for having me revisit this character and memory.

But, more than that. . . for helping me safely put my writing out there today.

Shari 🙂

 

Letting Go of Needing to Know

| Shari Daniels

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(art journal page by Shari Daniels)

I’ve been gone for a spell.  Six months, actually.  Goodness sakes.

Last fall, I went into retreat mode.  I had just come to the end of teaching my first online writing e-course (for 28 days straight) and was exhausted. The experience was more than I ever expected.  It felt like the bravest step I had ever taken and I was so grateful for the brave and beautiful souls that joined me in this first class.  They truly held my hand all the way through, cheering me on.  Honestly though, these women changed me, not only as a writer, but as a human being.  I felt my path shifting to new places as I wrote words for them every day.   So much was waiting to be born and I was beginning to bloom as I wrote for each person waiting for my message.

By September, I was exhausted.

Because I am an introvert by nature, a summer of online presence meant I needed a season to hibernate.  Well, it’s turned into almost two seasons.  My loud inner critic, Bernice, harped on me to get my butt moving, but I ignored her.  I told her things would be okay, because it’s really cold outside and it’s nice and cozy in here.

I had come across a blog entry from one of my favorite writers, Heather Kopp about quitting deeper and I could not shake it out of my brain.  She wrote about how we humans are always demanding to know what’s next in our lives.  We are in a constant state of planning in our date books, scheduling our days with action plans and dreams, needing to be in full control of our destiny.  Anxiety sets in when we don’t know how we are going to fit it all in or when we start thinking ahead into the fear of what might happen.

Well, it spoke to me big time.

I was in that place.

My mind was swimming with writing plans.  School was starting and I was working with new teachers helping to ease their anxieties.  All of my own children had finally emptied the nest and I worrying about them.  I wasn’t sleeping well – or eating well – or moving my body.

You are all sharp enough to know what happens when we go down that road.

I decided to quit all my plans for the time being and just be for awhile.  Julia Cameron calls it “restocking the well”.  I call it “being a hermit”.  But, whatever you call it, it’s been quiet, and I’m loving it.  I did some redecorating in my writing room (reorganized all of my books, bought a new chair, light and rug).  I read books.  I took naps.  I even started watching Downton Abby.  (If you have not started to watch this series, you do not know what you are missing.)

And, I filled five notebooks, one a month, of writing.

It was heavenly, writing for my eyes only. Gabby, my writing angel, showed up daily. She and I did lots of chatting, just about every day things, no real purpose in mind. Eventually, she pushed me to write of my fears, getting to the root of them and I ended up revising this old stuff into new stuff that served as a new truth.

Just the other day, I did some rereading of these notebooks.   I realized that they are full of guidance.  Words of healing.  Of joy.  Of pain.  Of surrender. . . of letting go. All of this writing  had become my spiritual practice.  Like prayer.

I’m taking baby steps back out into the world as I try to let go of needing to know where I am headed.

I just felt called to write this post today, so someone must need it.

Besides just me.

Shari 🙂