Day One: a report

So on Day 1, I already to had to break the summer schedule. I had my weekly online chat with my critique group followed by Tae Kwon Do class (I wonder if I'll get my book published first or earned my black belt? Bets, anyone?) and I "used up" the kids desk time and screen time. I did get in some revision done at night after they went to bed; I was still fairly awake and coherent.

I did, however, do two things I haven't been able to do with my kids during the school year, due to lack of time: teach them Chinese and piano. And we got to play board games and run around the block and just hang out.

A good first day.

Live? Or write?

Before you comment on how writers cannot write without living, and cannot live without writing, I just want you to see this wink here: see?


I am just having fun with false dichotomies. Doesn't the title provoke a stronger response in you than "how I plan strike a balance between writing and spending time with the kids this summer"?

So anyway, as many writers with school age children have commented on their blogs recently, summer time poses a question for us. Should we continue to write? Or should we take time for our children?

For example, The tollboothers exhort us to take a break and enjoy our summer. I agree. Kids grow up in the blink of an eye. Summer is a time to be enjoyed outdoors, with a leisurely attitude. (Nat King Cole is singing in my head right now: "roll out the hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer....") There is a certain rhythm and cycle to life; and taking a break is very much part of that.

But I know I can't take the whole summer off from writing. Not possible. Not even conceivable. What I plan is to carve aside an hour in the morning (as the kids read or draw or do quiet desk things) and an hour in the afternoon (as they get their screen time) to write.

I'll let you know how that works.

Learning, practicing, and friends from faraway

When I picked up Natalie Goldberg's book on writing memoir, Friends From Faraway, I wasn't intending to write a memoir, not seriously anyway. Neither did I realize the title was a saying of Confucius. The poem, from which this line is taken, loosely translates to:

We learn, and practice what we learn.
What joy.
Friends arrive from faraway.
What happiness.

[It is a lot more elegant in the original;)]

Coincidental or not, this is the book I am reading as I return to my childhood home, reminisicing with family and old friends, reconnecting to the language of my youth.

Every trip I've taken since leaving home twenty five years ago has taught me something about my family and myself. This trip is no different. And as with other trips, the process is filled with nostalgia, moments of epiphany, and occasionally, sorrow.

The thoughts and emotions from this trip will work themselves out in the next months and years. Maybe I will be writing a memoir after all.

It's all good

The family-reunion genre may not have the classic story arc; the characters may seem to act in ways that defy story logic; the conflicts don't often resolve in satisfying ways. But it is characterized by moments of grace and sacrifices, compassion and stubborn optimism.

From Natalie Goldberg's Friends From Far Away:
It's a simple idea really; eac a lot of peaches, you'll become a peach. Read good books, ones that are well-written where the author cares, thinks, is willing to feel the aching texture of the world and of this own rough mind and you are at least a third of the way into the practice.

More on novels and reunions

Like in a good novel, flashbacks and back-story should be kept to a minimum during family reunions, and only if they can be seamlessly woven into the narrative.

More from Friends from Far Away:
In real life get out of the way when a person with a gun is running down the street, In your writing life step in front of his path, let him shoot you in the heart.

What you fear, if you turn toward it, will give your writing teeth.

a certain type of novel

Family reunions are like novels written from multiple POVs, each narrator unreliable and sympathetic.

A quote from a new book I am reading: Natalie Goldberg's Old Friend From Far Away, about writing and remembering:

Let your mind first believe you are dedicated, that you sincerely want the truth, are willing to take what comes through. Keep moving the pen. Keep practicing.

Till the next time, when I will return with more observations about how family reunions relate to writing, and quotes from Goldberg.

The next month

...will be filled with events that will turn my routine upside down and inside out. Family reunions, big birthday, lots and lots of people and very little alone time.

My breathing has sped up just thinking about it. I won't have time to write, but I will be gathering information and conducting interviews for two of my WIPs.

One of the things I may have to neglect will be this blog. I hope the few of you who do check in from time to time, will continue to do so.

Happy Spring, everyone. Except if you live in the Southern Hemisphere, then happy Fall. Or if you're in the tropics, then Happy Hot and Humid Days.

Let the party begin

Welcome to my party! Remember, it lasts all week, so please come back again and often.

photo by jek in the box at Flikr

Everyday this week, I will post a quote that resonates with me in my writing journey. I'll start off today with:

If you only reach one person with your art, you will have succeeded.

---my mother.

I am sure this idea is not original to my mother, but when she said it to me in my first year in music school as I lamented the fact that only very few people came to the lunch-hour recital series that I performed in, it made a huge impact. My focus has shifted from music to writing, but the thought is still very much relevant.

And now the contest. Some rules:

1. You may enter every day, but only once a day.
2. Because I am a poor unpublished writer, I am limiting the contestants to those who live in the continental US so I don't go broke with postage.
3. I want my parents and children to read this blog so it is rated G.
   
4. Some days I may run two contests and if you fulfill the requirements for both contests, your name will be entered in both.
5. Limit yourselves to two drinks at the party (note the poor unpublished author info above.)
6. Any other rules I realize later that I need. (How's that for covering all my bases?)

Let the games begin!

photo by M3Li55@

Quick, give me a famous movie line.

Show me the money!

If you build it, they will come.

I'm not being ignored, am I?

The station is now the ultimate power in the universe.

I'd never hurt you, Margaret.

You talkin' to me?

Most people can spout off line after line of movie quotes. (Incidentally, the person who identifies all the movie quotes will be entered into a different book giveaway, and you may enter both contests if you wish.)

So, the contest is:

Quick, give me a memorable line from a book, any book, and remember to keep it G-rated. Tell me the book title, and if you choose, why that line is the first one that popped into your head.

Leave your answers in the comments section and make sure you leave me a way to contact you electronically.

Party on, Garth.

Soaring

Whee!

This is a picture of my daughter taken a couple of weeks ago at a local carnival/community fair. This was one of those bungee-trampoline deals. I didn't try it but my children said they felt as if they had been flying.

Those soaring moments, those wonderful, unexpected times when something delights us to the core!

I get those every once in a while, when one of my children willingly and without being told, shows compassion and generosity; when another child overcomes his fear of joining a new class.

I got them when I was a musician, when a concert or a piece or even one portion of piece went so exceedingly well or when I could feel a connection with the audience.

Occasionally, these moments are extraneous to the actual task: when my critique group likes my work, or when an agent responds to a query with "I'm intrigued, send me the full." And they definitely lift my spirits, but those moments that come from the task itself--when a revision of a tangled passage finally works, or when I realize where the story must go--those are the moments that make me truly soar.

I wish I could manufacture these moments and reward myself with them all the time. The thing is, though, they are out of my control. Just because I teach my children to be compassionate and not to be fearful doesn't mean they will do it. Just because I practice hours and hours a day doesn't mean the concert will go smoothly. Just because I write and re-write doesn't mean that the result will be good. As much of a control freak I am, I realize that soaring moments (and everything that truly matters, I suspect) are totally and completely out of my control.

But if I don't encourage my child and take him back to a class that terrifies him, if I don't practice, if I don't rewrite, then there is no chance for any soaring moments to take place.

That's the good news. Our toil and labor (my tribute to labor, one day late) can lead us to success. So my fellow writers (and anyone in pursuit of worthwhile goals), here's a wish and an encouragement to you: may you soar!

Refreshed

I haven't been able to write much these past few weeks. We've been hosting family visiting from overseas, catching up with old friends, and taking in some beautiful sights.

After our guests left, I took out my stubborn novel again (I think I'm just going to call it SN from now on) and to my surprise, found the revision this time around a lot more fun, yes, fun! Problems that had driven me to tears before now didn't seem so daunting any more. New scenes that had been difficult to complete, ended nicely.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed: time away from the SN and trying new things (I climbed, part way at least, up a climbing wall, and did a 5k run, among other uncharacteristic Yat-Yee type things.)

Note to self: when at a dead end with any writing project, go climb rocks or sew or some other things that don't typically appeal to me.

A perfect day

Our little town hosted its very own Jazz fest over the weekend. My family and I spent almost an entire Saturday at the festival. The weather couldn't be better: high 70s, low 80s, even in the afternoon, with a soft breeze. Nearby, there was a table for children to paint or draw, (my daughter spent most of her time there), a playground, and percussion instruments set up (my son spent his time running between the drums and the playground, and occasionally listening to the music.) My husband and I sat in the shade of oak trees and listened to all types of jazz: Latin, swing, R&B, Blues, and regular straight-ahead jazz. For dinner, we ate on a rooftop restaurant, listening a solo guitarist and vocalist.

I was amazed we were able to draw bands of such a high caliber, and as I mentioned, the weather was as close to perfect as it can get. Future Jazz fest will never be this good because how on earth do we order up the same weather?

Great music, perfect weather, time with the family, the luxury of being able to take a day off: life can't get much better than this.

Tribute

From my mother and her mother I have received more than I can ever write about. Today, I just want to highlight one trait in each of them that continues to inspire me in my writing.

My mother wrote a newspaper column for over twenty years, while holding down a full time job. She wrote anything from two to four articles per week. She never waited for inspiration or moped around about writers' block. She just hunched over her paper with little green blocks that were typical for Chinese writing (we lived in Malaysia and she wrote for a Chinese newspaper) and produced what she needed.

My grandmother was illiterate; her impact on me as a writer came from her overall attitude toward work. She never shirked from any task, no matter how tedious or how difficult. From cutting vegetables to sewing seams to cleaning up after meals, I had to re-do tasks to her specifications--only to see her re-do them yet again. I learned from her that there are no shortcuts and no substitution for work well done. She wasn't aware of such notions as "taking pride in one's work"; that was just the way she lived.

A Mom's first conference

I am getting ready to go to a 3-day writers' conference tomorrow. This will be the first time I will be gone overnight. My children are 7 and 5 and I am sure will enjoy their time with Dad. In fact, when I did a trial run a few weeks ago and went to a one-day workshop, they had a blast. So why am I nervous at all? For one, my daughter isn't feeling well. Second, a fun-filled Saturday may be a novelty but a Friday-Saturday-Sunday may stretch the novelty factor a bit too thin. And third, did I say I've never left them overnight before? Well, actually, I did have to leave for a week when my son was almost one. It was during my previous life as a musician. I had a conducting gig in a different town. I talked the organizers into flying my 2-and-a-half year old daughter with me and hiring a babysitter for her while I rehearsed and performed. And while I was gone, grandma and grandpa flew over to dote over the baby.

Fast forward five years and only now am I brave enough to attempt another time away. They are so much older now, I have nothing to worry about. What's the worst? They mope around all weekend? Nah, not likely. They watch too much TV? Probably. My husband getting exhausted and become super appreciative of what I do? Hmmmm...

What's in a name?

Each of my sibling's names is based on a Chinese proverb. My older sister and I share a four-character proverb that means being wholehearted and single minded. My sister's name, Yat-Sum literally means "one heart." My name is the "single minded" bit, but the literal translation is less straightforward. Yat-Yee means "one intention/mind/desire." The "Yee" part of Yat-Yee is a character that doesn't have a firm meaning but takes on different shades of meaning depending on context. Many characters in Chinese are like that, it makes the language so much more fluid and rich but also ambiguous at times. I secretly believe (not so secretly anymore) that the fluidity and ambiguity of the language has affected how Chinese people relate and talk to one another, but that's the topic for another day.

My parents probably had high hopes that we would grow into our names, and my sister is indeed a passionate person who pursues her dreams wholeheartedly. Good ol' One Intention over here, however, er, can't decide which one of her passions to focus on. So far, the solution has been to pursue one thing at a time. Although I've always loved books and art as much as music, it was music that hooked me first. I threw myself into music beginning in my teens and went to college and grad school as a musician. In the early part of my career, I was one of those fortunate people who loved what they did for a living (although financial wise, it wasn't much of a living.)

Twenty years and a child later, the itch to write began to intensify. I had been writing all along, of course, but always on the side. With a fussy sleeper in a house built in a open floor plan (read: whatever sound you make in one room is heard in the entire house), I couldn't practice much. The timing was perfect.

These days, my work is done on a different keyboard, but it is the same slogging over mechanics and technique, nurturing the creative mind, judging the results as an objective third party, booing the failures, cheering the progress, second guessing the choices, walking the fine line between control and freedom, all in glorious solitude.