a little something from my bulletin board to help keep me where the light is…

I suppose it goes without saying that moving to another culture is sometimes hard. There are a lot of exciting new things, to be sure. But there are sadnesses too, and mine tend to gang up on me around midnight. (Nasty little buggers.)

There’s been a kind of low-grade depression riding around on my breastbone these past few weeks. It seems to be always waiting for me—there, on the other side of the threshold, like the Wolf waiting until my Grandmother is weak enough to devour. I’ve been holding the sadness at bay fairly well, but when my hormone stew starts boiling, or if something goes awry – say, your semi-truck sized shipping container full of all your earthly goods arrives with a hole in the roof and two weeks of rainfall in the bottom –well, let’s just say things get a little shaky.

One of the things that is bothering me the most is that even here, in a country where I know virtually no-one and have no outside obligations, I am still fighting like mad to put pen to page. First I lost a week to migraines, then the children were out of school for Easter vacation, then there was a week spent getting ready to move, and another actually moving, then half a week waiting for the children to switch schools (again). Today I marched them into the local school, and when the teacher said this was just a meeting and not their first day, I had to insist that the schoolmistress had told me otherwise until the girls were given desks and workbooks, and I was able to escape to my desk for two quick hours before school was out again.

I feel so frustrated by the limitedness of my ‘success’ as a writer. At least as a pastor, at least at the church, there were concrete things to do, things that seemed to matter, something to show for my time. This accomplishing of things is much unlike writing, where a thousand days of pen-to-page may yield only a $50 paycheck and a stack of rejection letters. Still, I know in the core that there is no going back. I must write, compulsively and widely, even if the right combination of reader, market, and printing press never yields a dollar.

“This is the year for publishing, I think.” I wrote that in my journal a week or two ago. If a real live publishing house picks me up, so be it. But if not, there will still be books of mine on the market, even if the market is just the print-on-demand of self-publishing and a link to LuLu. Right after I made that decision, my soulsister told me she had launched this, and the self-publishing world transformed. Through Jen’s lens, sisters doing it for themselves was a not a second-class compromise, but a tool for artistic empowerment.

We may never make money, the soulsisters of the world and I, but we will put pen to page goddammit–we will testify.

The New Year slipped in as we were all snoozing away in snowy Chicago. After a day with all 12 little cousins, the grown-ups were happy to climb in bed long before the big ball dropped!

I’ve no resolutions this year. (I think moving overseas is challenge enough for ‘aught eight!)Please loves, if you make some resolutions, limit it to three and make sure at least one is truly doable. I beg you, be kind to yourselves.

In lieu of resolve, here are three amazing books that just might change your life without even trying. Each one was life changing for me, and I’m pretty darn sure they will help some of you out there as well. This week’s theme is Artist Unleashed. The next four Wednesdays in January will include themes around: Feeling Better, Budding Feminist, Religious Awakening, and Survival Parenting.

Of course, you’re always welcome to list your favorite texts in the comments. We love, Love, LOVE good reads. And as always, any purchase you make by clicking on a title below helps support this site.
Happy New Year to you…may you be much inspired.
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My Name Is Asher Lev
Chaim Potok

Raised in a Hasidic family, young Asher finds that his passion for painting does not jive with the stringent the life of an orthodox Jew. Yet his creative passion refuses to ebb, and he must find away to fuse art and faith.
My Name Is Asher LevThe Chosen are Potok’s finest works. Today’s Flavor: Achingly beautiful.

The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles
Steven Pressfield

I’ve quoted from this book before, but I think it merits another mention. I’ve read a lot of books about writing, but this is the one that helped me make a leap from “dabbling”, to “seriously working.” If this is the year for you to go pro, The War of ArtToday’s Flavor: Short bursts of inspiration.

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Anne Lamott

Anne is my priestess and this one of my holy books. All the writing advice in here is golden. Whether she’s writing about the radio station in your head that tells you your no good (“K-FUCK”) , or prompting you to get through your “shitty first draft” Anne’s wisdom comes across loud and clear, without being preachy or cloying. Just click and get it, will ya? Today’s Flavor: A gentle kick in the ass.

Next week’s list: books for Feeling Better.

I love illustrated journals. In fact, I have several books on my studio shelves about “how to” make illustrated journals. However, I have never actually made an illustrated journal. I find myself thinking, “Oh, I’ll make that when I learn to use acrylics properly.” Or, “I’ll start that when I know how many pages I want for each color/theme/idea.” Or, “I’ll do that when I’ve learned how to draw.”

The reality is we’ll always have something else to learn, some new idea to add to the order, or a new technique to master. If we wait until we “have it all together” before we start, we’ll never manage to get there. It’s like Lillithmother said in last week’s Small-is-Beautiful comments:

“ ….I have been struggling for a week to think small instead of big … I have creative projects in my head that I want out right away, already finished…without having to do all the small crappy stuff to get it to the point that my inner-perfectionist says it’s okay to do so. I struggle with the preparation…the practising…the research…because I now see that I’m getting so ahead of myself! I don’t have to make these projects to sell on Etsy (just yet)….I don’t have to add the frills…I can go simple….I can go small, and receive the same satisfaction…and offer the same gift of love and beauty….”

Lillith helped me remember that the small and the simple are often things of great satisfaction. We can all give each other the tiny shove that it sometimes takes to get us to lay our hand to the next small step in our unfolding worlds. For instance….

When we were on vacation last week I wanted to keep a journal to commemorate our trip. I had brought spiral bound blank books for the kids to paint and write in each night, but had neglected to get anything for myself. All I had with me was some drawing paper, my embroidery thread, and some very basic art supplies in my portable art box. (Some markers, a pencil, a stencil, and some thin-tipped sharpies.) I didn’t let my lack of the “perfect” supplies, or even my lack of a blank book keep me from making this small memory keeper:

I’m especially happy with this simple page.

I took a drawing class last year and rapidly learned that sketching is not my forte. But like Lillith’s reminder to “go simple,” my drawing teacher had a common refrain that has helped me to keep trying. His turn of phrase was, “That’s great! That’s totally recognizable!” Even though these quick pen strokes are far from being the pelicans I saw in my minds eye, they are clear enough to capture the memory. I’m glad I was brave enough to let my small attempts at drawing catch something beautiful.

What small thing have you ventured into lately that has helped you capture something beautiful?

Maria D. totally made my day when she sent me this fabulous photo of her and her grrls sporting their magpies. Wouldn’t it be fun to see what other people are doing with theirs? Please join in the Summer fun by sending pics of your magpie girl tattoo! I’d also love to see what y’all wrote/sketched/scribbled on the blank pages in Tweet. Go ahead, click here and jump in the (flickr) pool. (Don’t forget to put your blog address in the photo description so we can find our kindred spirits!)

p.s. Don’t have your Tweet yet? Buy one here. And don’t forget to go here and comment-to-win a new summer read.

Claudia, a sweet and super-productive writer friend of mine, has finally made it big. So big she has multiple book deals with real and artful covers and profession photos of her self blown up to giant proportions at booksellers conferences – photos where she looks super cute and inexhaustible interesting—and y’all know that an adorable picture when you are no longer in your twenties is a figgin’ gold mine. Claudia’s life has been shockingly difficult—is still shockingly difficult, in spite of this beautiful commercial success, and I should be turning summersalts for her in front of the capital building.

But instead I had the teeniest, tinest, pitty party of a cry.

My book – not my baby, just a book, but my first book – is still sitting on my agent’s list of not-yet-picked-up manuscripts. It’s been roundly rejected by all my Christian publishing contacts who so eager asked me to “send them something” because it’s to…um…I guess the nice way to say it is “interfaith.” (Really, they probably just think I’m a raving heretic.) Now it’s making the rounds of smaller less ‘religious’ and more ‘spiritual’ publishing houses, but still no bites. My agent swears that it’s great writing and just needs to find the right home. The poor thing has been homeless and hoofin’ it for about six months now and I’m beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, part of an literary agent’s job is placate vaguely neurotic writers until he finally, absolutely must admit that the whole thing is a no-go.

I know it’s shallow, and Ani DiFranco, she-who-didn’t-sign-with-a-label, would shake her head in dredlocked disapproval, but it I personally would find it very encouraging right now to have one piece of my work stamped “professional.” I want/need to be able to say “I am a writer” and have something to show for it. Also, I think Soulcrafting: 12 spiritual practices for soulful kids is somethign a lot of people could really use right now. And lord knows my marriage needs me to bring in some money so there’s some kind of fiscal equity going on.

Andrea says to ask for what you want. So I am, loudly and often.

I want to write and publish a book without compromising the integrity of the work.

There is no scheduling task as hard as protecting your writing time.

This is a universal truth. You go to bed on Sunday night thinking, I’m going to have so much time to write this week! But when Monday morning arrives you realize—between the dentist appointments; and the days school gets out early; and the classroom volunteering; and the taking of the ridiculously chi-chi dog to the groomers—there’s one 2 hour block available for actually working. See it? You have to kind of squint a little and look…right…there! It’s that tiny gap between babysitting the neighbor’s kids and making dinner for 12. Two tiny hours. About six pages worth, if you’ve got your groove on. Which you probably won’t, because you haven’t picked up the piece you’re working on for a week or two and it will take half that time just to get your mind back in the game.

I moaned about this to my writers group on Monday and everyone agreed. Protecting your writing time is a bitch.

I know some people who write in the wee hours of the morning, and others who stay up half the night. I know some who bow out of family stuff on the weekends to get some work done, and others who have to resort to sitting the kids in front of the boob tube in order to meet their publishing deadlines. No matter how you slice it, it’s hard. There are sacrifices. And it’s very easy to fall into a cycle of constantly worrying whether you are using your time wisely and justly. It’s a big energy-suck, which ironically, makes it all the harder to do your artistic thang.

So here’s what I think, let share our ideas with each other. What does your working life look like as an artist. How do you find, make, or protect your artistic time? I’ll give you my method, and you let me in on yours. I am confidnet that between our creative bass ass selves we can make this art thing happen!

Magpie Girl’s Tips to protecting your Art time

1) Make a list of the non-negotiables. This helps you worry less that your aren’t doing your fair-share in life. Go ahead, write them down. Now, cross of about a third of them because you probably just think they are non-negotiables. Go on. Be bitchy and way less helpful that you usually are. Mine include getting enough sleep; exercising every day; preparing for monkfish abbey once a week; cuddling with the kids in the morning; hanging out with our household after dinner (most nights); grocery shopping; cooking 2-3 real meals a week, and doing the household bookkeeping. That’s it. Eight things that are absolutely my responsibility.

2) Put those non-negotiables on a schedule and see what time you have left. Try not to cry. It will be enough. At least, it will be enough for now. Small beginnings are good.

3) Protect that time like a banshee. This my friends, is the hard part. After I slot in the must-do’s I end up with 9hrs a week of workable time. 9hrs. It’s not even a .25 equivalent! If I am realistically going to get anything done as an artist, I have to honor that time, no matter what. For me this means only booking appointments on my one “family task” day a week; saying no to school volunteering except for one field trip per kid per year; only emailing 15 minutes each evening; avoiding the internet; and getting my family to help with the household tasks.

4) Enlist and Reinforce. Show your new schedule to your family, post it next to your calendar, tape it into the front of your notebooks, and write it out once a day for two weeks— whatever it takes to solidify your boundaries. Then keep going back to it until protecting those nine hours (or whatever) becomes a habit—as customary to you as going to church on Sunday, or watching Grey’s Anatomy on Thursdays, or whatever. Keep practicing until it is part of your rhythm.

That’s what works – most of the time—for me. How about you? What tips do you have for protecting your artist life?