Arse over Teakettle: In which I See a Guilder

Yesterday, I was having such a good day. I wrote some new stuff AND I did some laundry AND I had dinner organized. I was walking the dog (for the second time--see how well this was going?) at a little after 1. We were just charging along at a really good clip, when all of a sudden, I found myself sprawled on the sidewalk, my glasses at some distance from my face. I had tripped over an uneven part of the sidewalk. I still had Sammy's leash in one hand, and my clip-on sunglasses were still attached to my glasses. Good, I thought, everything's fine. Then I noticed the blood--quite a lot of it--and I started spitting out pieces of teeth. So Sammy, who didn't seem at all fazed by my plight, accompanied me back home, where I inspected the damage. Lots of teeth (in the back, thank goodness) were broken. I was a bloody mess. When I called the doctor's office, they said to go straight to urgent care. Do not waste a moment--just go right now, they said. I called my husband, and he came right home to drive me--really fast--to the place where injured people go when they need treatment right away.

Four hours later, I said to the nice doctor who sewed up my chin, "I have never been treated in an emergency room before."

He said, "How old are you?"

I said, "53."

He said, "Then you're really, really lucky." He's right, isn't he?

Today, I went to two dentists, my regular one and an oral surgeon. (It would have been three, but the root canal guy is out of town.) Over the next eight months, I'll get some crowns, one or two root canals, some bonding, and an implant. We already got the ball rolling with an early morning extraction.

Things can change so fast. One minute I'm breezing along the street feeling smug and--how ironic is this?--in control. And the next minute, I'm face down on the sidewalk. In Dutch, when someone falls down, people often say, "Did you see a guilder?" (Only now they probably say, "Did you see a Euro?") Mean, I know, but even so, that line has made me laugh a couple of times. Another expression for falling down is going "arse over teakettle." I Googled it and found this picture. I'm sure I looked even less graceful.

This afternoon, I was sitting here with ice bags on my face. The phone rang. When a cheerful voice said, "Hi, it's Kate," I paused for a second, thinking, Kate? Now which dentist's office does she work in? But it was my wonderful writing student Kate, calling for her weekly chat about her work! Sorry about the pause before the recognition, Kate. I hope you understand. You see, yesterday, I saw a guilder!

Will Write for Bubble Bath

On another blog recently, I read about how a writer punished herself for not completing her daily word quota. She didn't allow herself to do something she really enjoyed and had looked forward to all week. Sometimes people feel that the way to writing success is to force themselves to write and to punish themselves if they don't. If that worked, we wouldn't have a thing to worry about. Most of us are pretty good at being mean to ourselves for not producing. But it doesn't work, as you may have noticed. If you took psychology in college, you may remember that as a behavior reinforcer, reward is many times more powerful than punishment. This holds for teaching a pigeon to press a lever right on up to training yourself to complete a novel. I advocate being kind to yourself every time you write. Take bubble baths and watch movies you love. Give yourself treats. Make a list of nice things you can have or do for yourself for writing and reward yourself frequently. Develop an association between writing and pleasure, instead of between not writing and deprivation. Nurture and encourage the writer in you.

And another thing. Pushing yourself hard isn't the way to get out your best material. Sometimes in classes, I use the metaphor of trying to catch a cat. If you're trying to grab a cat, it doesn't help to run fast and grab hard. The cat will always be able to scoot faster and jump higher than you can. Instead, you've got to sit quietly and let the cat come to you. When it jumps into your lap, make it feel welcome and give it affection. It's the same with writing. Be there every day for it and love it (and yourself) when it comes.

Does My Dog Look Fat?

When we adopted our dog, Sammy, he was overweight. I might have mentioned that he was an only pet of an elderly woman before we got him. She had to move to a nursing home. Otherwise, I'm sure she never would have given him up. One thing we noticed about Sammy immediately was that he did not seem familiar with dog food. When I'd put his bowl of food on the floor, he'd sniff at it and walk away. But when we sat down at the table for our dinner, Sammy would come over to the table and sit, looking up at us as if expecting a reward for his awesome behavior.

The first time I took him to the vet, the doctor brought out an illustrated chart titled "Canine Obesity." The skinniest possible dog was labeled 1, and the fattest possible dog was labeled 5. "Sammy is 4.5," the vet informed me. "He has probably been living on table scraps." I pictured lasagna and Oreos. He outlined the dangers of obesity in dogs: diabetes, heart disease, and shortened life span were among them. Sammy weighed 33 pounds; he should weigh 28, according to the vet.

Before:
(That's my mom, drawing a portrait of one of our cats, as Sammy strolls by--on his way to the kitchen, of course.)

Five pounds are no biggie, right? Sammy went on a strict diet and exercise program. I measured his food meticulously, and we never EVER gave him human food. I walked him twice a day. This was more complicated than it seems. He had never walked on a leash before. At first, about every half block, he stopped, lowered his head, and planted his splayed feet firmly on the sidewalk. "Aww," passersby would comment, "Puppy wants to go home. Puppy's tired." I'd snap the leash and say "Ch!" just like Cesar Millan on The Dog Whisperer, and eventually, Sammy would follow me . . . for 20 yards until he stopped again. When we got home, even if we'd only managed half a mile, Sammy would pant and puff for several minutes. I kept it up, though. I was relentless. At first, it wasn't much fun for either of us. Diabetes, heart disease, shortened life span, I reminded myself, forcing us both out the front door.

There were a couple of diet setbacks. Once I found him standing on my son's bed, devouring a left-behind chocolate chip muffin. Another time, I caught him trotting down the hall carrying a white MacDonald's bag in his teeth. But for the most part, he stuck with the program. He had no choice.

After a month, he had to go back to he vet again (ear infection), and I worried that I'd find out I was starving and overexercising him. The weight drop would be dramatic, I imagined, after all of my hard work, and the vet would admonish me to ease off. Sammy was down by half a pound. "Good job, Sammy!" the vet said, high-fiving his paw. "Keep it up!" Half a pound?! I thought. Is that all?

As more time passed, Sammy's walks improved. After 3 months, he actually got used to walking on the leash. Now I could easily take him 2.5 miles twice a day. (Note that this took considerably longer than the 5 minutes it takes Cesar with even the most difficult dog on TV. What's up with that? Must be my pronunciation of "Ch!") On the weekends, my husband walked Sammy 3 miles in the morning and the kids each took him on a shorter walk during the day. He ate dog food and lay down in another room while we ate dinner. We started to see a slight indentation between his ribs and his hips at his "waist." After 6 months, he had lost 3 pounds. We were all so proud!

After:

(That's my daughter out for a coffee with Sammy.)

Then we went on vacation. A very kind friend allowed Sammy to stay at her house. I gave her his leash, his bed, and his food with strict instructions: "Sammy gets 1 1/4 C. dog food per day ONLY." I got emails about Sammy's vacation: "Sammy's enjoying his daily social time with all the doggies in the neighborhood!" and "We're taking him to Mammoth for the weekend!" Life was good.

Maybe it wasn't all good. He chewed up a pair of underpants and the handle of a suitcase, and he made a couple of "mistakes" in my friend's beautiful, clean house. And when I picked him up, he looked different. "Did you get him shampooed?" I asked. "He looks so fluffy." My kind friend had had him washed. I was so grateful.

Unfortunately, the shampoo wasn't all that made Sammy look fluffy. He had gained weight. Another friend stopped by to visit. "Whoa!" she said. "Is that the same dog? How did he get so fat?" I know we were only gone two weeks, but in that time a lot can happen. His "waist" was gone again. And now, when we sit down to eat dinner, Sammy rushes to the table and sits, looking up at us expectantly. When I put his dog dish down for him, he walks away, disgusted. After just a short walk, he huffs and puffs a long time.

Back to Before again:
OK, I guess we all know what to do.

Ring in the New!

Happy New Year! I 'm saying that because my son is going back to school today, so it feels like a fresh start for new things. Yesterday, I cleared my desk of anything that didn't contribute to writing progress. (To be completely honest, though, my pencil jar is still badly cluttered.) Today, I'm starting a new project.


The last time I started a new project was January. Are you seeing a pattern here? I have several new students this month too, because they also feel that it's a good time for a fresh start. We keep each other going; it's a beautiful thing.

Obviously, moving forward with writing projects has a lot to do with our psychology. Over these many years that I've been writing, I've found out that progress has more to do with psychology than anything else. That's why it's so important to stay fired up about the work. I'd say that feeling motivated is the most important thing--way more important than whether or not you have an MFA or who your agent is, for example. Since I've been doing hypnotherapy (over the phone and in person), most of my clients are coming to improve their writing focus and motivation and to overcome creative blocks. (Weight loss is a popular goal, too, but that's another post.)

So today, I'm using the fact that it's the first day of a new school year to get me scribbling with renewed energy and motivation. Here's wishing you all good things in the New Year!

Perfect Party

Even though I have debilitating jet lag, I did not go to bed early last night. Instead, I went to a party of 15 women writers from the San Diego area. Now, this doesn't happen very often, but when it does it's just very cool. At Patty Santana's house, a whole gaggle of us came together to eat, talk, and laugh. My friends Amy Wallen, Judy Reeves and Drusilla Campbell were all there, and I met some writers who were new to me, including Sylvia Mendoza and Gerri Brooks. Amy brought spinach salad, and Gail brought lasagne. There was pasta salad, chicken, and rice. Victoria brought a fabulous chocolate cake for dessert. And I don't know who brought the hummus and bread, but it was fab. Best of all was the conversation. We took turns talking about our work. How refreshing to be in a social situation where a whole bunch of women are talking about their writing! I was in heaven! I noticed the descriptions got longer and funnier with each writer. Just being in the company of all those writers of different ages, genres, and backgrounds was empowering. This is the way it's supposed to be. Thank you, Patty!

Back to Intuitive Writing School

We're on vacation, which means that for once all four of us are together for two weeks in a row. Granted there have been some tense moments over weird food and too many hours in the car. But now that we've had some time to relax and settle into the unstructured, slower pace of family travel, we're having a good time.

Meanwhile, as much as I'm enjoying my family and time off from work, at least part of my brain is busy gearing up for a new project. You know what I mean, don't you? Maybe it has something to do with the time of year--that back-to-school, fresh-start kind of feeling that seems to come over me as Labor Day approaches. Now as my family sleeps late in the mornings, I am scribbling away in my notebook. I have ideas about characters, setting, and plot. I write every morning--nothing major, just a few handwritten pages. But it's enough so that throughout the day, as we drive to scenic spots, family visits, restaurants, and museums, my ideas keep developing, growing, and picking up steam. I'm getting excited about getting home and devoting more time to this project and allowing it to take on a life of its own.

You're probably working on something, too, maybe every day in your notebook and computer, or maybe just in your head. I know that some of you are planning to enroll in Intuitive Writing to begin after Labor Day. Personally, I can't wait. We're going to write every day. I'll be talking to you in daily emails, and individually on the phone. We'll do some Intuitive Writing Marathons, just like last year, to power out those pages. Some of us have finished whole books the Intuitive Writing way, and I'm looking forward to experiencing that with you all again.

Some of you have not tried Intuitive Writing yet, and maybe also some of you have yet to try writing fiction. All this trusting-your-intuition business can seem a little scary. It might feel like I'm asking you to skydive, and first you want to make sure it's safe. So while you're still in the plane you think it would be a good idea to open your parachute and make sure it works. You know what, though? The parachute only works after you jump. But the great thing is, if you're willing to make that leap, it works every single time. It's the same with writing. You aren't going to be able to get it all figured out ahead of time. There's no way to test your plot before you write. But I promise that if you start writing, even without a solid idea, the project will show up to meet you.

To join us in Intuitive Writing (either as a new student or as a returning student), just go to my web site and send me an email. I look forward to hearing from you!

And a Giant Woohoo Was Heard Throughout the Land . . .

I have an inspiring story for you. On May 30, 2007, a new student (friend of Cindy, one of my first Intuitive Writing students) emailed to say she wanted to sign up for my online writing course. I always have a phone conversation with new students to find out where they are with their writing at the moment. In our first phone call, my new student, Beth, told me that she had been stuck in her current novel for a long time. She'd started it in November 2005. She was hoping to get unstuck and finish the draft by September. Or she might just have to give up on this book. Maybe it wasn't going to work out.

Now, it's a huge bummer to be stuck, as I'm sure we can all appreciate. But my feeling is that being stuck is neither serious nor permanent. I told her Beth she was closer to being finished than she thought, weeks away, not months. I remember that at this point, she sounded a bit frustrated by my lack of understanding. Maybe she hadn't explained the situation correctly; I didn't seem to get it. No, I told her, I got it. I sent her the Intuitive Writing course materials. Beth was skeptical but willing, and she started June 1. She pieced together lots of drafts of the novel to make a coherent whole. She wrote some some new parts, smoothed transitions between old ones, and moved parts around. Looking back at her emails, she comments that this process is "SLOW" (in all caps). I'd have to disagree with that description, because 2 1/2 weeks after she started, she reached the end of the draft. She sent it to Cindy to read. Cindy gave Beth some helpful comments. By July 2, Beth had made changes per those suggestions and sent the manuscript to a publisher.

While she was waiting for the publisher, Beth thought it might be helpful to have an agent. She found a good candidate, queried, and submitted. On Thursday, that agent declined to represent the novel. That's really too bad for the agent, because on Friday (yesterday), the publisher bought the novel, and today a contract is on its way to Beth.

Just in case you ever feel stuck, remember it's not serious or permanent.