Taking the Poetry Plunge
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fountain-pen-1851096_1920After a great deal of thought, I decided to apply for the City’s Poet Laureate position. I did it in part because I didn’t want the program to end. But mostly I did it because there were things I’d hoped to see implemented during the past twelve years that were not. It appeared if I wanted to see them happen, I’d have to do it myself. Also, I was attracted to the challenge of being Poet Laureate. I thought it would help me grow and evolve as a poet. Plus I thought the role would help me claim the title of poet.

There was something else that I struggled to explain, which is embarrassing for a writer. Yet there it was, this vague feeling. Propelling me to apply.

So I put together my writer’s resume and gathered up five representative poems. I started brainstorming ideas, and I kept thinking about the vague feeling, attempting to define it. When it came to me, I knew with certainty that I would apply to be the next Poet Laureate. Because it was important.

Here is a preliminary list of my goals, which I’m sure will expand as time and opportunity arise:

  • Continue the monthly Whistlestop Writers Open Mic that I founded 3 years ago.
  • Continue the Ravenswood Poetry Series on a quarterly or bi-monthly basis.
  • Continue the monthly teen poetry contest.
  • Continue the Poetry in a Test Tube Contest.
  • Launch a wine-related poetry contest.
  • Host another ekphrastic event to showcase local artists and writers.
  • Launch a cowboy poetry event.
  • Host poetry slams to involve more local youth.

In addition, I want to revamp the Poet Laureate website. Instead of having a website for each individual Poet Laureate that goes dormant every few years, develop a permanent website (and corresponding Facebook page) devoted to Livermore Literary Arts. Website will include a Poet Laureate page, which can be updated each term, but also a literary events calendar, details on ongoing events, information on writing workshops, showcase teen poet of month, showcase poetry contest winners, provide literary links as well as bios for past Poet Laureates, and possibly even showcase local writers and poets. I also want to explore ways to establish a Livermore Literary Arts Center to house readings, workshops, book launches, poetry slams, etc. Because I’d rather spend my limited volunteer time organizing and hosting events rather than searching for an elusive venue.

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But back to that vague feeling. I told the Commission for the Arts that if selected, I wanted my term as Poet Laureate to be collaborative and inclusive. In part because this is simply my style, but also because we all benefit from inclusion. Studies show that when inclusion increases, innovation, creativity, and problem solving increase as well. So I intended to foster acceptance and tolerance in whatever I did because it seemed that this is what we as Americans most need at this time.

Acceptance.

Tolerance.

Inclusion.

Hope.

Now more than ever, I believe in the power of words. Words to inspire, to motivate, to heal, to give hope. Words that uplift us. This is what I most want to give to my community: the power to rise above what would tear us apart. Maybe I’m crazy, but I believe I can do this through the literary arts.

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So I applied. I had my interview with the Selection Committee last week. My fingers are crossed.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Chaos and Change, Part 2
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12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oOpen Mind School (OMS), my daughter’s fantastic new school in Redwood City, was being kicked out of its current location by Oracle’s childcare provider and then lost its new location in Menlo Park to Facebook. Welcome to the cut-throat world of Silicon Valley real estate.

We had just over two months to figure out a solution or OMS would be homeless.

As a former land use attorney, it was the policy implications of the situation that struck me first. How could a nonprofit organization hope to compete with large, wildly successful for-profit tech companies that could afford to pay three times the market rate for real estate? This could not be the first time that this type of thing had happened. How many “little guys” had lost out when outbid by Oracle, Facebook, of another tech giant? I wanted to stand before the Redwood City and Menlo Park City Councils and put them on notice. If nothing else, it would get OMS and its situation some free media coverage.

250228_465261366867616_1625140658_nAfter the initial shock wore off, OMS parents were quick to organize a meeting. Never have I encountered a group of individuals more willing to fight to the proverbial death. Particularly for those of us with older children, there was no going back to public school.

The meeting was held at a parent’s home in Atherton. I have never been to Atherton. Let’s just say it’s probably safe to assume nearly everyone who lives there resides comfortably in the top two percent of wealthiest Americans. I felt horribly out of place as I parked my dirty twelve-year-old minivan outside the gated entrance.

Once I was in the casually elegant back yard, however, those differences fell away. This was a group of diverse individuals united by their desire to save a school that was, in a sense, saving their child. Money didn’t matter here.

money-bag-filled-with-money-915x1024Or did it?

We soon learned that OMS’s monthly lease at its current location was $40,000 per month. The figure made all of us gasp. No wonder the tuition at OMS was so high! Immediately most of us began viewing this as a two-pronged problem. OMS needed a lease for the short term, as well as the cash necessary to purchase a building for the long term. A permanent place with room to expand.

As we ate pizza and salad, we threw out ideas. It quickly became clear that this was an extremely well-educated and connected group. At the time it gave me hope. Later, it would sadden me that only the most educated and wealthy parents had the ability to enroll their children in a place like OMS. Why wasn’t this education available to all children with autism and other learning differences?

The group identified that it probably needed a grant writer. “I can do that,” I said. I had already explained about my experience as a public interest advocate.

“We may need someone to help with any conditional use permits or rezoning,” a father said.

“I can do that too. I used to work as an environmental and land use attorney.”

The guy next to me laughed. “Any other hidden talents?”

“I’m a pretty good editor.”

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Which is how I ended up in charge of writing the mother of all advocacy letters to the Menlo Park landlord in hopes that we could sway his decision.

Wish us luck.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Special Olympics Are Truly Special
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int@sog1I wasn’t sure what to expect when I signed up my daughter for the Tri-Valley Special Olympics track team (aka the Tri-Valley Rockets). As I told my father at the first practice, I would have been happy if Katie managed to follow directions in a group setting, which had always been a problem in the past, without exhibiting any negative behaviors. But once again, Katie (and Special Olympics) wildly exceeded my expectations.

From the first practice, the coaches were enthusiastic, patient, and cheerful. They worked hard to teach children and young adults of varying abilities (and disabilities) how to improve their track and field skills. I was impressed again and again with their dedication and commitment, one thing that I thought was great was the fact that most of these individuals had the opportunity to get In home care services for their special needs.

Holding handsThe coaches were assisted by a handful of local high school students. These gals were amazing! They ran laps with Katie, held her hand while she waited, and patiently tried, again and again, to hold a stilted conversation. They complimented her clothes, her athletic skills, even her attempts at sportsmanship. Katie was clearly in awe of them, and she blossomed under their attention, since she spend most of her growing time with her grandmother, although her grandmother now needed care which they got with the Parkinson’s Care Home Care Assistance 9050 W Olympic Blvd, Beverly Hills, CA 90211 (310) 857-4724 from https://homecareassistance.com/mn/bloomington-mn.

For a girl who has spent most of her life in the company of boys. it was lovely to see Katie able to bond with other females.

After some debate, the coaches registered Katie for the 50-meter dash, the standing long jump, and the softball throw. At each practice she would stretch and run laps with the team, then practice her individual events. She was able to do this with little to no involvement from me. (Woohoo!) After a few weeks, her teammates were saying, “Great race, Katie!”and she would smile and slap them five. I loved seeing her build relationships with these kids.

The volunteers even helped Katie have conversations with several of her age-appropriate (and cute) male team mates!

Finally, last week, the Special Olympics Regional Track and Field Competition arrived. Held at Amador High School in Pleasanton, teams from all over the East Bay competed. The bleachers were packed with athletes. parents, siblings, coaches, and volunteers. The Tri-Valley Rockets were prepared to give it their best shot.

IMG_1145What no one had told me was that the athletes went alone on the field to compete. I wasn’t sure how Katie would do. She has trouble listening to directions when there is a lot of background noise.

Molly, volunteer extraordinaire. took three of the girls under her wing and registered each of them for their respective events. Katie waited in the staging area without issue. When it was her time to compete, a volunteer escorted her onto the field to the correct place.

For the softball throw, Katie held the hand of the stranger/volunteer and threw with her left hand. Molly and I both yelled across the field, “Other hand! Use your right hand.”

The volunteer heard us and switched sides. Katie did another lackluster throw with her right hand. Then she noticed the girls on either side of her. I could literally see the light bulb switch on. She dropped the volunteer’s hand and really threw. The softball soared, roughly three times farther than the first two throws. The official and the two teens who were measuring jumped back in surprise. Then all three erupted in cheers. Katie was all smiles when she won her first gold medal.

IMG_1150After a trip to a nearby park to swing, Katie was ready to run the 50-meter dash Her coaches worried that she wouldn’t stay in her lane (the Rockets practice on a dirt track) and that Hailey would false start as she often does. Hailey didn’t false start, and Katie, after a delayed start due to the startle-inducing gun, took off.

Katie is fast when she wants to be, and she was extra fast that day. All the girls stayed in their lanes, and Katie won a second gold medal in her division. Hailey did too!

Last came the standing long jump. After a long day in the heat, everyone was tired. Katie fumbled her jump, and the twenty-something male who was officiating demonstrated the proper technique. “Now show me a good jump,” he said. “Let me see what you can do.”

Katie studied him as if assessing his daddy potential, then jumped like she had wings on her feet. Later Molly would comment, “I’d have jumped for that guy too.”

It was a long, long wait for the final results. Katie sat patiently, despite the crowd—something that wouldn’t have been possible a few years ago. In the end, she won a third gold medal and stood on the podium, basking in cheers and applause. She wore her medals for the rest of the day, looking down at them as they softly clinked.

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For the next few days, she arranged them on the kitchen table so she could admire them as she swung. Then we hung them near the swing. She clinks them together when I’m not in the room.

All in all, Special Olympics was a most excellent experience. One we will definitely repeat.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Chaos and Change, Part 1
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12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oIn addition to the Brownie star party and finally securing ABA services for my daughter Katie after nearly 18 months, two other things happened last week. First, my school district finally got around to visiting Open Mind School (OMS). They had a tour and asked about Katie’s progress. They didn’t seem surprised when OMS staff described how things were going. Which begs the question: did they know she was capable of this all along? Or are they merely happy to be getting a good return on investment for the substantial tuition they are paying?

How could they label a child “unteachable” and “retarded,” then merely smile pleasantly when told that this same child mastered addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division in less than six months?

As I drove back home in hellacious Friday commute traffic, I wondered, doesn’t it make them the tiniest bit guilty that they didn’t achieve at least some of this progress in their program? Or do they find a way to justify their failure, shrug it off as a lack of funding and resources? Do they recognize how short-sighted this approach is?

I will probably never know the answers to those questions, but there was one important detail that both the OMS staff and I left out of the glowing narrative of the school and its success with my daughter. We didn’t mention that the school might be homeless in August.

money-bag-filled-with-money-915x1024In a week of chaos and change, this was the biggest change of all.

It turns out Marina, the school’s Executive Director, had learned nine months earlier that the childcare center located below OMS on the building’s ground floor, had offered well above market value to purchase the building. Located only a few blocks from the Oracle campus, the childcare center had a two-year waitlist and serves primarily Oracle employees. It intends to demolish the second floor used by OMS and expand its facility.

Marina spent nine months searching for a new location. She found one in Menlo Park and negotiated a ten-year lease so the school would not have to move again anytime soon. (Purchasing was out of the question given Silicon Valley’s expensive real estate market.) Just as she was about to announce the change to the staff and parents, the unthinkable happened. Facebook outbid OMS for the new school location.

How could this happen twice in less than a year?

With only two months to spare, OMS needed to identify a new location, negotiate a lease, and move. It seemed an impossible task.

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Six months after transitioning to OMS, Katie was at risk of losing her phenomenal new school. I had no idea what I or the other parents could do, but I knew I wasn’t giving up on OMS without one hell of a fight.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Viewing the Moon with Brownies
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IMG_0191If I needed further proof that chaos and change was my new normal, than I need look no further than yesterday. While I was helping Nate and other Eastbay Astronomical Society (EAS) members set up for a “girls only” star party in San Leandro for local Brownie and Junior Girl Scout troops, I received a call from a supervisor at our new ABA provider. I’ve been working to get my daughter Katie established with a new provider since we were forced to switch her to Medi-Cal in January 2016. No, that’s not a typo. January 2, 2016.

Despite repeated follow up calls and polite pressure, it had taken eight months for the new insurer to simply accept that Katie had autism. Seriously? She’s been receiving services from the Regional Center of the East Bay (RCEB) since the age of two and been in special education classes with our school district since the age of three, but this isn’t enough proof for you? Apparently not even a two-inch stack of reports was enough. I had to file a grievance to get things moving. That, and a one-page handwritten worksheet from the RCEB finally did the trick. Another six months of waiting for a provider to have availability. Several, months of assessments and meetings….

Then, just as the star pastry was about to start, nearly 18 months after I began the approval process, the supervisor excitedly told me that we would finally start Katie’s in-home therapy in just four days on Monday and Thursday from 9 to 12 p.m.

“That’s when Katie does her tutoring,” I said as I mentally scrambled.

I had been afraid this would happen. ABA providers typically have to work around school schedules. In the aftermath of the in-home school crisis (read about that here), and before I’d found Melissa, tutor/sitter extraordinaire, I’d been willing to take whatever time slot would get us help as quickly as possible.

Since then, things had changed. Katie’s behavioral issues had died down to a minimal level with Caroline’s departure. Her new school, Open Mind School (OMS), was reporting only sporadic incidents, the same as at home. We had settled into a schedule that was working well: three days at OMS, two days of tutoring with Melissa in the mornings and facilitated play with Melissa’s daughters in the afternoons.

I asked if this was the behaviorist’s only available time slot. Of course it was.

The supervisor reminded me that I’d said we were available.

I mentally sighed. I’d have to rework the whole schedule to make room for ABA. I said I’d work something out with Melissa and hung up.

boy-1846204_1920Nate saw the look on my face. “What’s up?”

I told him and he said, “This is the only time they can do it? Seriously?”

I nodded.

“Well that sucks. What are you going to do?”

“Don’t know yet.”

I pondered my options until the Brownies ran over to where we had set up the telescopes. Then I was distracted by the girls’ excitement at seeing the moon’ surface up close for the first time. I love this part of EAS’s work. I never tire of seeing children’s wonder at the night sky, knowing this might spark a lifelong love of science. And hearing their comments. One little girl exclaimed, “It looks just like a Cheeto–except it’s not orange!”

The Juniors were just as excited, and I was happy to let them come back for look after look. Without boys present, the girls didn’t hold back the way they usually do. They pressed forward and asked nonstop questions while they stood in line. That’s when it dawned on me. I wanted learning to be like this for Katie. Fun and exciting. If ABA therapy could do that, I’d make room for it.

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Somehow, someway.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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The Next Poet Laureate?
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fountain-pen-1851096_1920Back in early March, I attended the Ravenswood Poetry Series. After listening to D. A. Powell read his beautiful, lyric work, we broke for a brief intermission.

Kay Speaks, a local poet, greeted me as I nibbled on a cookie. She asked if I was going to replace Kevin Gunn as Poet Laureate.

“What?” I said, spluttering crumbs.

“His term ends in June.”

“I know that,” I stuttered. “But….” I had been about to say, I’m not a poet, and caught myself. After publishing a book of poetry, that excuse no longer worked—even if I still defined myself mostly as a writer of creative nonfiction.

“What about you?” I said. “You could apply.”

She shook her head. “I’m no good at stuff like that. But you’d be awesome.” Kay leaned closer. “If no one applies, I’m worried Livermore will lose its program. That’s what happened in Dublin and Pleasanton.”

With a start, I realized she was correct. Dublin had been without a Poet Laureate for years. Pleasanton’s program had quietly slipped into obscurity the past year.

“You’re already doing so much for the literary community. You might as well get some credit for it.”

“I don’t know, Kay. I’m not sure I have the time.”

“I’d help,” she said. “Cher would too.”

explorer-gear-377x269-300x214Cher, a former Poet Laureate, now served on the Livermore Commission for the Arts. I wondered if she had put Kay up to this.

“At least consider it,” Kay pleaded.

I said I would as we headed backs to our seats.

After the event, Cher confirmed that the Commission would soon begin its selection process. “Kay’s right,” she said. “You’d be great.”

Was it my imagination or did she seem relived?

When I came home and mentioned this exchange to Nate, who’d been working with Katie while I was gone, stuffing branches into the green waste can, he immediately said, “You’re gonna do it, right?”

For two months I have pondered this question. The application period ends next week, on Friday, May 12th. Although I remain undecided, I’m leaning toward yes. In large part because Kay is correct. If no one applies, the program will die. It also turns out that I have some ideas I want to share. While I am hesitant to take on the task of writing theme-based poems for civic events, I am excited about the challenges this post will bring.

Do I need another volunteer gig? No, I most certainly do not.  But I also can’t shake the feeling that I’m meant to apply. This time. In this place. For a specific reason. And the reason is not to keep the program alive, although that’s important to me.

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I’m still grappling with what this means. All I know so far is that I want to make a difference. I want to serve my community with my words. And maybe, just maybe, I’m meant to learn something.

So I’m putting together a literary project list—just in case.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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A Reflection on Gratitude
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13177547_2013470658679914_7239163187534610238_nLately I’ve been feeling tremendously grateful for the many amazing people and programs in my and my daughter’s lives.

People and programs such as: Barb (reading tutor/educational consultant/mentor/friend); Melissa and Jennifer (sitters extraordinaire); Bella, Audrina, Jonah, and the other kids who have embraced Katie; Nate (friend, muse, and occasional handyman); Open Mind School and its phenomenal staff; Leanne Crandall (RPM coach); Special Olympics; dear departed Hoofprints on the Heart Adaptive Riding Center; Son-Rise Equestrian Foundation; the amazing therapists at AST, including Brad and Juan who we still miss like crazy; the new team at ACES; Happy Talkers and School of Imagination; Ascend Rehab; Wendy Kleven and Suzzette Halvorson (our most recent SLPs who taught Katie the Zones of Regulation);  the Exceptional Needs Network and Camp Arroyo; and the awesome staff at the Livermore Trader Joe’s, who always stop whatever they are doing to greet Katie and work on social skills. Not to mention my fellow autism moms, who keep me sane, plus teachers and school district staff we’ve met along the way.

Let’s not forget what I’ve come to think of as Katie’s Cheering Section: a group of friends, family, and therapists on Facebook who never fail to celebrate Katie’s achievements, no matter how small.

So many people, and most I never would have met if not for autism. These people keep me going on days when I just want to give up. In honor of them, I thought today I’d post a poem from my collection, Across An Aqueous Moon: Travels in Autism, that focuses on gratitude. (And no, the school district in question is not our home district.)

Enjoy!

 

A REFLECTION ON GRATITUDE

The woman from the school tells me to be glad—
you talk. Other parents covet what I possess.
Brazen indignation burns as slow-witted shame
slithers down my darkened spine.
You talk—a bit—and I’m grateful, so terribly grateful,
for that small mercy, but is it wrong to thirst for more?
I want words bubbling over and spilling onto the floor,
filling me up, filling you up.
I want to know the contents of your skull the way I know
my garden, still finding blossoms I never realized I had.
I want what so many take for granted—a simple conversation,
a joke that falls flat, an argument over nothing.
Every time you say something new, I throw a party in my head
the next moment guilty remembering all you didn’t say,
all you struggle to express. I can’t reconcile these twin impulses—
half Mardi Gras, half somber wake—
yet life is sweeter when paired with the bitter.
Even when I grasp for more, I am graced with you.

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What are you grateful for this week?

Until next time,
Cynthia

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What I Want in My Life
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J0341653Ever since I wrote the post “A Question of Settling,” back in October 2016, I’ve been thinking about how I wanted the next phase of my life to look. I had intended to focus on this question over the holidays, but then my daughter and I got horribly sick and I couldn’t muster the energy. Then we stayed sick—or at least I did. Only now, in the weeks following my birthday, am I finally returning to the question. For me, the year 2017 begins in April.

As I wrote earlier, recently it feels that Katie and I have turned a corner, crossed some invisible line. Partly this is due to her placement at Open Mind School and partly due to our use of the Rapid Prompting Method. It’s also due to Melissa, Katie’s wonderful tutor/companion, who not only teaches Katie, but also facilitates communication and social skills with the help of her two adorable daughters. It’s due to other factors as well, but my point here is that with Katie’s basic educational needs met at last, I can finally focus on what I need.

So what do I want in my life?

  • Publishing my poetry chapbook, Across An Aqueous Moon: Travels in Autism, fulfilled a lifelong dream, but now I find myself itching to complete my memoir. I want to focus on that as my next  writing goal.
  • Nate and I have been toying with the idea of starting a small press. I want to create a book of essays culled from my blog. This is the perfect opportunity to try our hand at self-publishing and see what happens.
  • I want to rethink my career path. Clearly the law firm is not going to happen—at least not in 2017. I don’t know why I’m resisting this idea, but I am. Big time. But if not a law firm, then what? I need to answer this question and it’s going to take some serious soul searching.
  • wood heartI’m still searching for a man who will be my partner, lover, friend, and equal. I know he’s out there. I need to not give up on this dream—even though at times it has begun to feel hopeless.
  • I want to set Katie’s big, beautiful brain free so she can share her voice and thoughts with the world, in whatever form that takes.
  • I want a home and yard that are calm, serene, and clutter-free. This has been an elusive goal since my divorce, but I’m sticking with it.
  • I want to practice effortless self-care in all its forms: healthy diet, yoga, alanon, daily walk with dog, tai chi, meditation, etc.
  • I want to have financial security and serenity.
  • I want to travel the globe.
  • I want to have more fun and adventure in my life.
  • Most importantly, I want to make a difference and leave the world a better place.

So that’s what I want. Or at least that’s what I want today, in the Spring of 2017. If I know one thing, it’s that things can change on a dime, particularly in my unplanned life.

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What do you want to see (or see more of) in your life?

Until next time,
Cynthia

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The Writer’s March Challenge 2017–An Update
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Four Hands Joined TogetherOn March 31st, A Writer’s March 2017 ended. A guest blogger, Bob Sabatini, wrote the final post entitled, “It’s Over! (Whew!).” Bob’s post nicely sums up my feelings on this year’s writing challenge. You can read it here.

Afterwards, the founder of A Writer’s March, Samantha Tetangco Ocena, asked the participants how we did. She also asked what we learned during the month-long challenge.

Hmmm.

The first question was easier to answer. I had intended to work every day on my memoir, or at least write SOMETHING every day, and well, let’s just say that did not happen. Not even close. I doubt I even wrote every other day and that fact pains me. But I did write a lot more than I have in the recent past (which was almost nothing), so that alone is an accomplishment.

I suck. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. No, I don’t.

Sigh.

Hand-writing-with-penI was feeling kind of down about this, but then I remembered that I did write several new poems and revised several others. I entered one of those new poems into a contest (The City of Livermore’s Poetry in a Test Tube science contest) and it won first prize (and $100)!! Woohoo! I don’t suck!

I also wrote a bunch of blog posts. Less exciting, but it still counts as writing.

None of which had anything to do with my memoir, which was what I really wanted to be working on. But then, right at the end of the month, I finally dug out some notes for the next chapter I need to write and managed five or six pages. Plus a list of scenes for the rest of the chapter. And a revision. Not much, but it’s a start.

I’ve got some momentum now, which is exactly what I needed.

As for Sam’s second question, during the challenge I realized (once again) that when it comes to writing, a schedule is my friend. I hate this truth—HATE IT—but writing on a schedule keeps my butt in the chair and prevents procrastination. And last year my schedule was completely trampled due to my daughter’s school woes. So no wonder I wasn’t writing as much as I wanted! Who can write when their house is getting trashed?

And more importantly, why do I keep forgetting this fact? A schedule is my FRIEND!

time-273857_1920I now have an updated weekly schedule that sets aside time for writing. And I have the beginnings of a new writing group to hold me accountable and provide feedback. So the biggest thing that happened during A Writer’s March was structure. Never sexy, but essential (for me at least).

So maybe, just maybe, this year’s writing challenge wasn’t the epic fail that I’d originally thought.

I suck. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. No, I don’t.

In any case, I’m not giving up.

What have you learned (or relearned) about your creative process?

Until next time,
Cynthia 

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Second Guest Post on A Writer’s March
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This year, in addition to participating in A Writer’s March, I contributed two guest posts. Here is the second of my posts: Fallow Fields

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The writers who have participated in A Writer’s March over the years are an amazing bunch. I’m honored to be a part of this inspiring crowd and grateful that I could help with the blog.  Go check it out!

Until next time,
Cynthia

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