Sunday, August 2, 2015
While walking to my Ulpan (Hebrew school) in Jerusalem this morning, I passed by this street library set up in an old bus station. Of course I was immediately charmed and would have loved to stop and browse but, alas, I had to be on time for my lesson. Still, I snapped this picture and maybe, if I manage to leave for school a bit earlier, I can browse tomorrow. Later in the day is not conducive to browsing because temperatures in Jerusalem are currently insanely hot at 41C (106F) by midday, so all I want to do is scurry from one air-conditioned site to the next.
Just passing by I spotted a bunch of English books (It will be a long time before I can read Hebrew books!). Not that I need to have any more books but still, I love this idea of having a "station" where you can deposit books you no longer want and can stop for a few minutes to browse and perhaps pick up a volume. Of course, this set up works particularly well in a country where it doesn't rain much and not at all for one half of the year. I'll be passing by there for the next two weeks, so if I find something intriguing, I shall report!
Happy reading, even in the heat...
Monday, July 27, 2015
as quoted in The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp
I'm not sure that not finding a publisher nor an agent for my memoir manuscript constitutes my biggest disaster, but in terms of my writing it does. There's no creative project into which I have poured more time and energy.
I spent a good part of my time as writer-in-residence at the Hemingway House on querying agents and publishers. I stuck to the old adage that persistence is everything, that you just have to plow on. Overall, I sent 70 query letters and/or proposals. Each time I pressed the Send button, hope rose again. In each email sent there was the possibility of success. If I don't try, I won't succeed, I kept telling myself.
There were lots of nibbles, requests for manuscripts, but none went anywhere. With each rejection my heart sank a little lower, and my composure got more frazzled. When I reached the end of my list of agents, I plowed through databases of similar books to find publishers who take unagented work (of which, thankfully, there are plenty). One day, as I was finding similar books that got published while mine wasn't finding a home, I got so mad that I texted my husband. A good deal of my fury and frustration must have been evident in that text because he wrote back, "Maybe you need a break?"
So I took a break. I left my little studio up in the Hemingway House, walked over to the French bistro down the street and had a glass of Chardonnay with an omelette lunch. Then I chucked the process. I worked other writing.
Soon thereafter an email from an editor came in, suggesting a rewrite and offering to look at it again after that. That made me even madder. I didn't want to rewrite it based on someone's advice who had no skin in the game. A rewrite would be a lot of work and I wasn't even sure I could do it.
Then I had dinner with a good writing friend who yelled at me that this was a terrific second chance and that I'd better get to it. I didn't want to. I was scared.
"Change--changing the work and how we work--is the unpleasant task of dealing with that which we have been denying. It is probably the biggest test in the creative process, demanding not only an admission that you've made a mistake but that you know how to fix it."
Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit, p. 218
"The unpleasant task"--yes, that's what I was dealing with! That's why I had been dragging my feet. I hadn't wanted to admit that this version of the manuscript had failed.
Thanks to my friend, by the time I was reading The Creative Habit, I was deep into attempting the rewrite. Up until then, however, I had seen my problem in terms of rejection. I had hunted around for advice on how to deal with rejection, how to keep up the fight in the face of continued, repeated rejection when really rejection had turned into failure.
When does rejection turn into failure? I wish I knew! I wish I could say, "it's after sending out 70 unsuccessful queries," or "when a second chance comes around." Part of the challenge of the creative process is that you're always operating in this foggy no-man's-land. Other writers and artists can only give you advice, share where they have been at, but it's you yourself who has to decide what to do about the work.
I am happy to report that I am glad I attempted the rewrite. It was easier than I thought. I shouldn't have doubted myself so much. I am done now, and I feel it is a better book.
What if the second chance doesn't pan out? Of course I am dreading that, but at least I gave the second chance a chance.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
The Creative Habit, which I picked up at my new writing home, the Writers Workspace (WWS) on Chicago's northside. Luckily for me, the WWS features a little library that I poke around in when I am taking a break from the writing desk. Incidentally, that is one thing I missed as writer-in-residence at the Hemingway Birthplace Home: A library that peaked my interest. While there were lots of wonderful old books about the house and I leafed through many of them, they just didn't strike my fancy. (There weren't any old volumes of Hemingway's writing.)
I love reading what successful artists have to say about the creative process, and this book by one of America's most prominent choreographers intrigued me, especially because it is written from the perspective of someone who is not a writer, nor a photographer, but someone who works in an entirely different discipline than I do. While she begins the chapter on "The Bubble" by citing a New Yorker interview with Philip Roth who truly works in a bubble as he secludes himself from the rest of the world by living alone and working in a studio in the woods every day, I appreciate that she says,
"Being in the bubble does not have to mean exiling yourself from people and the world. It is more a state of mind, a willingness to subtract anything that disconnects you from your work. It doesn't have to be antisocial...
"Bubbles can exist amid chaos. They can be mobile: There's nothing more hectic than a rock band on tour, but the confining schedule of planes, limos, hotels, backstage, and onstage becomes a bubble of sorts over the course of several months--and a touring songwriter, cut off from home, will often come back with a pile of new songs for the next disk.
"Even within our distracted existence we have to cultivate a version of the bubble if we want to work freely and with maximum fluency in making connections and harnessing our memory--and to maintain all this is a habit. It is the ideal state where nothing is wasted, where every detail feeds your art because it has nowhere else to go." (p. 238-239)
Here's my bubble: For six weeks this summer, Monday through Friday, I drive my son to summer school on the northside of the city. While he is at school, from 8:00 to 12:30, I am at the Writers Workspace, a short drive from the school. This gives me 3-4 hours of writing time. My other jobs are on summer hiatus, and I made sure to clear all other writing assignments off my plate, so I have been able to truly focus on this rewrite, something I had been dreading for a while. And guess what? It's been easier than I thought it would be, mainly because I've been in the bubble. I've been able to live with this project, something I used to call "being in the zone." But whatever it is called, it means that my brain is preoccupied with this project, and therefore ideas and solutions will come to my mind while I am, for example, chopping onions in the evening as I am cooking for my family.
I have never had 3-4 hours of focused writing time every weekday, except for the times I was granted a writer's residency at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. And even then, my residency was only two weeks, so often I toiled all day long. I have found, however, that if I am working intently on a writing project, I tire after about four hours. My creative juices are depleted by then. Fortunately, this jives with my current routine. After four hours it's time to pack up, pick up my son and embark on the rest of the day. I love that this bubble life is not an all or nothing proposition, that I have time for other stuff. Afternoons and evenings are devoted to being a mom and tending to everyday issues like going to the post office, dropping off donations at the charity shop, or making arrangements for my upcoming travels.
Here's what I especially love about my bubble: That I know, as I pack up, that it will be there again the next day.
Monday, July 20, 2015
My year as writer-in-residence at the Hemingway Birthplace Home in Oak Park has come to an end and as I say farewell to my studio in the attic, I treat you one last time to favorite glimpses of the house as I experienced it.
Farewell to the congregation of furniture in the attic
Bye bye to the funky disco wall paper that greeted me every time I climbed the attic stairs...
...and to the croquet that sat by the back door, rain or shine.
Bye bye to dainty china, marble table tops, embroidered children's coats, lacy light patterns on damask bedspreads, and lavish floral carpets
Farewell to Mrs. Maud Humphrey's (mother of Humphrey Bogart) Mother Goose illustrations and the Peter Rabbit wallpaper in the nursery Ernest shared with his sister, the tricycle in the foyer and Hemingway's potty chair (probably not, but still) in Grace Hemingway's bedroom
Good-bye beloved kitchen sink swivel stool - you were my favorite gadget in the whole house!
Farewell, Hemingway House! It was a privilege to dwell in your walls for this special time, and to have all the time in the world, it seemed, to explore your treasures and share them with many friends.