Pudding Pages

The Artist's Way, a book about accessing one's creativity, was written by Julia Cameron.

I read it years ago. One of the creativity exercises she recommends is what she calls "morning pages," three pages of handwritten, free-association writing, done first thing in the morning, to get the hand moving, and the juices––you should excuse the expression––flowing. It's a kind of mini-NaNo, to be done every day, no exceptions.

My free association takes me from morning pages to Picture Pages

which brings me, naturally, to this:

A different path of free association takes me into scarier territory:

Julia Cameron once looked like this:

but more recently looks like this:

which is a kick in the gut right there.

She was once married to him:

and he had an affair with her:

who has free-associated herself to now look like this:

who was once married to this:

I'm going to spare us all having to gaze upon what he looks like now. Sheesh.

There was no real point to any of that, and that's why it qualifies as free association.

NaBloPoMo can serve as my morning pages for the month, though it is not handwritten, and it is not quite morning as I post this. I had a bad night. There wasn't any sleep in it. So morning today was a moving target.

Unfortunately I didn't get any other writing done yet, either. But the night is young! See you in the morning!

This, on the other hand, never fails to cheer me.

Triage

The time has come, suddenly this morning, by way of one of those encouraging emails from my agent, to prioritize my projects. The silly stuff has to make way for the serious stuff, and if that means bailing out on the NaBloPoMo thing, then so be it. 

And the NaNoWriMo thing may have to take a back seat this year, too. 

Because there is interest in my novel. My unwritten, unproven novel.

Interest by an editor at a real "everybody has heard of it" NYC publishing house. And that editor has asked my agent "When can I see it?"

When can SHE see it? When can I see it? 

Crack of Noon

Sunny day, sweepin' the clouds away.

Or is it clowns?

This is marketed as a "Clown indoor broom"

Fresh start, new day, back to the drawing board. I have lots of work to do, and I am gearing up to do it. Proportionally more gearing up than is strictly necessary, but one does what one must.

This, the blog posting, is gearing up for the NaNo writing, which is gearing up for the real writing, which is the project that I alluded to two months ago.

A few weeks ago, I had to pass through customs or immigration or whatever it's called when you show your passport to a stern-looking individual sitting on a stool at a not-very-intimidating little booth in a large room and before whom you must remember to be serious and direct and not make any sudden moves or end any of your answers with "Heh heh, just kidding." When he asked me what I did in "Massachusetts" (it sounded like it had quotation marks around it when he said it), I answered, "I'm a writer."

I omitted the "Heh heh, just kidding," and he didn't bat an eye.

I like to wear all black when I travel. It simplifies packing.

Though I didn't have to swear an oath, I think that makes it kind of official.

So, I'm a writer, you guys. I'm writing a novel, and I have an agent. Yup. I have a literary agent in New York City (ever heard of it?), whom I have not met but who calls me on the phone and writes me encouraging emails. And any minute now, right after I write 1667 words on my NaNo document, refresh a few dozen websites, make lunch, and possibly go out to CVS, I'm going to be writing that novel like it's going out of style.

And also, look at me going to foreign countries solo without getting all "What's it all about?" about it in advance––while six months ago I was musing profoundly about the significance of taking the train to New Jersey by myself. Stretching much? I'm Gumby, dammit.

Don't get too excited about the passport, though. It was Canada.

Here's what I did in Toronto:

Harrowing.
 Heh heh, just kidding.

NaNo NaNo

Sssshhhhh.

I'm doing this just for me. Stop looking at me, privacy invader! Why are you reading me? Is it because I'm a public blog and not a Hello Kitty diary hidden in an underwear drawer and locked with a little lock that can be picked with a bobby pin? What's a bobby pin, you ask? Are you from the future?

Back to my request: Stop looking at me when I'm jumping up and down and waving my arms wildly in front of you!

It's November 1, which is a full and precise two months since I last posted. Nice and neat. Today is the start of National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, which anyone who knows me knows about, so I'm not even going to link it.

OK, I linked it.

BUT. . . it's also–– apparently, lamely, and totally copycattedly––National Blog Posting Month. NaBloPoMo. Psych! The point of which, I think (I'm not going to be reading any RULES or anything) is to post something every day for the month of November.

As stated elsewhere herein, I like starting things on starting days and then making optimistic plans to follow through in an orderly fashion. So––

Here I Go!

The question will be what to blog about every day, which I guess is part of the point.

Should I explain, just in case the Mork and Mindy reference is lost on anyone? Nah. It's just for me, remember? 

Thirty

Yesterday I had my thirtieth Pilates session. My first was in L.A. on May 19, so that means that the 30 sessions were clustered within roughly three and a half months.

Loyal readers may remember this, from the Boston Body website:

Just complete 30 sessions every 3 months and you will achieve the body and the results you’ve always wanted. Our clients are the proof – it really works!


Also, I'm not sure if I have shared this basic tenet of Pilates before:

"In ten sessions, you will feel the difference, in twenty you will see the difference, and in thirty you'll have a whole new body."
––Joseph H. Pilates

This is either Joseph H. Pilates or Reginald E. Treadmill.

Alas.
I am sorry to report, dear reader, that I do not have a whole new body.

I'm not here to blame anybody. I'm just reporting.

I'll admit I'm disappointed in not having transformed myself in some measurable, confirmable way. Remember when I wrote that whole long thing about needing a test to determine if a goal had been reached? (It took me a while to find it; it was the last entry in June.) And remember how I was going to do four things this summer? And remember how summer was going to be the 100 days from whenever I decided it? I reckon there are about 8 days left until the day of reckoning. So, though I am a week early, let's reckon.

What of the "four things"?
I have gone to 30 Pilates sessions (and gained between five and seven pounds).
I have read a total of five books.*
I have cleared out zero cartons from my garage.

All kind of disappointing, to be honest.

This leaves the writing.
My postings here have slowed considerably. I didn't continue with the one-a-day Self-Reliance writing prompts.
But.

I do have this writing project, and it is very much a fish-or-cut-bait situation. Sink or swim. Put up or shut up. Poop or get off the pot.

Trademark infringement?  Sue me.

I'm not sure if it makes any sense to blog about my writing, especially since I'm not yet ready to disclose anything about it. Therefore, I'm not sure how I'm going to use this space from now on, but that has been an ongoing theme here, so I guess nothing has really changed.

I know this all sounds kind of down. Whaddyagonnado? Life is, as the class president at my high school graduation memorably proclaimed, a series of mountains and valleys. If I find myself in a valley and that's not where I want to be, then I have to conclude there's a mountain to be climbed. And that mountain probably isn't going to climb itself.

You were expecting a funny photo of a mountain here, weren't you? You know what I really want to end with, though, since this has been a summer rerun episode anyway? I want to end with this graphic, repeated from June:

Boy, seems like I must have been pretty smart in June.


*Because it took me five minutes to remember what book (besides Bossypants) I was referring to in my June 26 post, I am now going to list the five books I read this summer: Netherland, Joseph O'Neill; Bossypants, Tina Fey; How to Be a Woman, Caitlin Moran; A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Egan; The Paris Wife, Paula McLain.

Lack of a clever title shouldn't stop me from posting, right?

Gull 1: "May I buy you a . . .?" Gull 2: "Take a hike."

I've been to the beach. 

It's nice at the beach. There's a lot of movement to keep things interesting. The waves, for instance. They just keep coming. High tide, low tide, early morning, late afternoon, at night when you're finishing your ice cream and getting bitten by mosquitoes and the moon is full––the waves keep doing their thing. (Earth science is not my strong suit.)

Which got me thinking about how people always say "Change is good"––in a motivational slash inspirational way–– and that people who change are seen as energetic and brave and forward-looking, while people who don't change are seen as boring or timid or possibly wasting their lives. And how stretching is really another way of saying "attempting to change," which is all I've been talking about here.

But some things that are good and valuable and inspirational DON'T change. See what I'm saying? Not just the waves, but Peanut Butter Cup ice cream at HCICP, and bagels from Neptune Market and scones from Foodies, and doing a really hard jigsaw puzzle on the round table, and going to the same beach with the same people for 20 years. 

I know. You don't have to point out how it's good to change in some ways and keep things the same in other ways. It's just what I was thinking about at the beach.

Artsy.

I'm ready to part company with Pilates. My monthly membership at Boston Body expires right after Labor Day, and I don't think I'll renew for a fourth month. Awww, I know––sad face––we've come so far together, you and I and Mr. Pilates. 

But it has served its purpose, and the stretching as metaphor will continue. I'll get to that in a minute. And I have a very nice DVD and stretchy-band Reformer to use at home. (Thank you, gift-giver!)

I will look like this, but bigger.

So don't worry, everybody! I'm going to keep walking, and in October I'll go back to the Y, where I had suspended my membership for a few months while I was doing Pilates instead. So, it's all cool. I'll be fine––all tall and bendy and whatnot.

Meanwhile, I've got a new writing project I've set out for myself, to begin imminently. Soon. Monday, probably. It's going to stretch me good. 

I am sorry to be so coy; it's not something I'm ready to get all share-y about, and I'm taking a "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched" approach, as protection. However, as one very astute counselor pointed out, "Being excited about the eggs is OK!"

I am pretty excited about the eggs.

I realize they're all "in one basket." One cliche at a time, please.

Travel is broadening

We had a perfectly splendid vacation in Scotland.

This sums things up.

There are more photos to share, and if you haven't been informed how to see them and are interested, just get in touch.


Now that my last planned adventure of the summer has been completed, I'm at a loss, again, as to what it is I'm to do in this space. There are thoughts and observations that occurred to me while I was away, but writing them here would violate the "nothing maudlin" policy that I wisely enacted a few months ago. So those thoughts will find another outlet.

I'm going to be away on a post-vacation vacation starting in a few days, and I will not be blogging during that time.

When I return, I'll try to figure out if I've stretched this metaphor to its natural limit.

Cheers!