Free time, free writing, and the life of the unwillingly unemployed

Let's get this out of the way: I still don't have a job. I have tried, and I'm still trying. But, this nasty ol' job market has successfully kept me down and out of the paying, working world.

That said: I have officially completed all of my assignments from the fall semester classes! I'm ecstatic for the free space in my thoughts, not to mention my time, a precious interval I must not waste before the spring semester begins in January. So, today is a "do whatever I want" day, which really just means I email my advisor about details for my internship next semester, I clean the kitchen, and I sit on the couch and stare at the dreary rain that's held on for a third day straight. But, at least I can enjoy my Christmas decorations, and plug in the lights because it's so dark in my house.

Whether you like it or not, the lack of a job to get up for in the morning, and to serve as a grounding structure for your day, can test the self-discipline of even the most driven person. I, for instance, wrote in a post not too long ago about trying to give myself a list or schedule, but being unwilling because I feel tied down on a schedule. But, now that my semester is over I have whole, yawning days I must fill. Now, I say all of this to preface: I actually have a plan.

Lately, I've been trying to reinstate writing in my life. It's been two years now since I left the MFA creative writing program I was in for a couple semesters. I left that program because I felt I wasn't mature enough as a human or as a writer to produce the massive amount of life work an MFA requires of a writer. Shortly after I left, I began a stint as a temp Technical Writer for a large company, during which I started this blog. Although I had just left the creative program, I saw myself bloom as a writer, and I was conceptualizing and writing every day. During this time, however, I was also accepted into the Masters in Library and Information Science program at USC, and when I began to prepare for that program I put my writing life on hold. Now, I realize, that was a mistake. Thankfully, not much time has passed and I believe I won't have too long to be back where I was when I started this blog. Writing was breathing for me, and when I wasn't writing, I was reading new fiction and peeling my eyes to see and synthesize everything I could.

I am planning, and in the process, of working writing back into my life. The plan I spoke of is simple, but has not been easy at first. I am remembering, as I begin again, that trying to write after a too-long hiatus is akin to your first run after a season of little or no running. Here's what I have planned so I can get myself fit again:

1. Write, write, write...write...write...and write some more. Most things count. I have started keeping a freewriting journal in a Word doc. There are many websites that offer writing prompts and exercises, and they are just as good as anything else. Yesterday I was using some free (no cost) writing prompts at a site called The Journal. 
2. Remember that everything is practice, and don't try to expect everything you write to be perfect. Just write. In time, you will see your writing get better, but it can't do anything if you don't write.
3. Read a lot, and widely. Don't just read the kind of thing you want to write, but read in other genres, and read nonfiction, too. 

You will hear those pieces of advice from anyone who knows what the writing life is all about. I'm simply retweeting it. 

Blogging is included in writing, and I'm sure you've noticed the increasing number of my posts lately. But, it's only a component of the writing life, a type up stretch for that run I was talking about. 

So, I apologize in advance for clogging up your RSS feed in the next few weeks. (I flatter myself that someone actually has my blog on RSS feed). 

Now to put a hurting on that dirty kitchen...

The past, the cold can make you stronger

I just found out, Margaret Atwood, the author, is good at more than one genre. I read a book of hers called The Handmaid's Tale back when I was in the Creative Writing program. I say "back when," and really it was only two years ago when I left it but it seems like a longer time, enough time, at least, to change the course of my life. That novel by Atwood is a dystopian, post-apocalyptic account of a human society in which women can't easily have babies anymore. Rich and influential women take handmaids, instead - like the story of Sara and Abraham in the Bible. When I read it I was amazed, and I just couldn't stop reading because I wanted to know what would become of the handmaid who showed me her story, because she was unnamed and could've been anyone, even me.

But I've also just heard Garrison Keillor read a poem by Margaret Atwood, "In the Secular Night". Atwood as poet lets in on what happens in those unaccounted-for hours, what my mom calls "the wee hours of the night," when a person is less structured. The poet mutters to herself as she walks upstairs, eating a bowl of baby lima beans and cream with her fingers. She mutters and contemplates things that, like miraculous epiphanies, only come together when one has been awake long enough into the night. And of course, like every writer, she waxes nostalgic for a spell inside the poem.

I was just telling my husband the other night, in one of those rambling monologues I subject him to because I see no one but the dogs most days, that nostalgia and the past are inescapable for me. I can't hear, read, smell or watch anything without being kicked back to the first time, the formative moments of that spice or movie where I applied it like lipstick to the experiences I was having. But this is good for a writer. The ability to see the past as a catalogue of events meaningful when strung throughout each other in myriad ways is, indeed, what charges writers to write. The recurring themes, images and symbols in a single life and even throughout history beg for significance, so we write them into story.

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It's getting cold below the southern mountains, finally, even though November is well on it's way. Just two days ago, though, I was bearing my legs in cutoffs again, albeit with boots up to mid-calf. The little black spiders, frequently sighted on the ceilings in summer, even thought it was okay to parade about in the open again on floors and walls. I hadn't seen a spider in the house for at least two weeks, and I was quite content with it that way.

For me, no spiders is about the only good thing that comes out of cold weather. It's hard to do anything but sit balled up under a blanket, or bundled in too many clothes for real comfort, when it's cold. So, I try to see the cold weather as a challenge, something that will make me stronger and more resilient. I make myself go for runs in the cold, because it makes the body stronger. Also, I try not to let that holiday languor set in and ruin any useful line of thinking.

Tonight is going to be another cold one, but it's Friday, and that makes everything just a little bit better. Daniel and I are headed to one of our usual haunts, the Hare & Hound Pub and Restaurant in Landrum, SC.

But first, I'm going for a run with some friends. Don't worry, I'm layering on some Underarmor for this one. I might even wear pants instead of shorts.