Of Resolutions & Rituals, Purges, Goals, & Owls

I truly love this time of year. New Year is my absolute favorite holiday, and I have various rituals associated with it. I thought I’d share them with you; I really believe in their power and efficacy—and my wish for all of you for 2015 is empowerment and effectiveness.

At the end of the post, I’ll be sharing my usual special offer to celebrate New Year.

Happy New Year! I hope 2015 is a year of creative growth and forward motion for us all.

Wordy Bird’s New Year’s Rituals (live and uncut)

1. The Great Office-Studio Purge

This is a must. I do have a lovely room in which to work and create, but it does get rather out of hand, especially toward Christmas, and especially when I have a major creative project underway. Ok, it’s shocking and I'm (sort of) embarrassed, but I'm determined to keep it real here and I have promised a few people some before and after shots. Nobody's perfect, and life can get in the way of good intentions, but this is why you should look forward to and embrace the Purge. (But then, I have read that many creative people tend to do better work in chaotic spaces...)

Exquisite chaos, extreme shame.

Phoebe can't believe it either.

Nine-year-old me, who kept her books 

categorized and neat, would be incensed!

 You never know what you'll find...

The palette I've been looking for for ages. 

A terribly important magnetic Z.

These. 

Expect the chaos to get exponentially worse before it gets better.

There’s nothing like purging and starting the year with a tidy, clutter free, clean space. It feels fantastic. 

Organized by favorites, non-fiction, books
by friends, books I use for teaching, and "other."
Nine-year-old me would be proud. 

Phoebe is speechless.

I must have done a good job because my daughter just walked in and frowned. "It's too clean in here," she said. "Where's your real office?" Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll be back before you know it. 

Shame above me! I couldn't reach. Or face up to
getting rid of any books, if truth be told.

2. The Sublime Setting of the Goals

We all know that resolutions beg to be broken and can be rather self-defeating. I’m a HUGE advocate, however, of concrete goal-setting. I believe in writing goals down and keeping them close at hand. In my opinion, it’s the best kick starter to define what you want to achieve, hold yourself accountable, and actually get stuff done.   

I usually reassess my goals around midyear. There’s nothing wrong with reassessment and a shift in priorities; in fact, to not reassess your goals is folly. Situations change, unexpected opportunities arise, and so sometimes you need to shift course before you crash and burn. And note I said “reassess” and “shift,” not lower. Never lower you expectations. Big goals, even if they seem outside the realm of the possible, will keep you focused and take you further than lower expectations. Big goals must, of course, be broken into smaller discrete goals, stepping stones to the big one.

When making my annual goals, I find the following categories helpful as a launching point: health/fitness, relationships, financial, career, spiritual/philosophical/personal growth, creative. Again, I highly recommend avoiding resolutions in favor of making concrete goals with deadlines. That gets the subconscious working out possible steps to achieving them on time.

Compare:

I resolve to make a lot more new art this year.  

to

I will complete my new portfolio by April 15^th.

And, yes, this is an actual one from my list.

Another goal I have is to see a snowy owl, up close, this year. I took this a few days ago with my phone... through a telescope. 

So close to success, but so far...Again. The snowy owl is my feathered white whale. Ok, so some goals are somewhat dependent on factors outside your control. But I can control how often I go birding and just how hard I’m willing to work to see the snowy. And you can do the same for your goals. No excuses!

3. The Fresh Fancy Journal

I use this each day to list my tasks and goals for the day, and it’s satisfying to tick them off one by one, have a record of what I’ve achieved, and get a lot done. So before New Year, I buy a high quality, beautiful journal. It takes me ages to choose usually, but my lovely daughter gave me this perfect one for Christmas. I write my year’s goals in the first few pages, so they are always at hand.

4. First Dawn

No matter how I celebrate New Year’s Eve itself, I always get up to watch the year’s first sunrise. (This morning it was well below freezing and I’d only had three hours sleep, but First Dawn was absolutely worth the numb nose and head-swimming fatigue.) 

Do you have special New Year rituals? I’d love to hear what they are and how you feel about goals and resolutions.

As I always do at this time of year, and in the spirit of making goals and keeping deadlines, I’m offering 20% off editing services contracted and deposit paid by January 31st, 2015. Editing services include: developmental editing, copyediting and proofreading, critiques, and writing instruction. Contract start can be on a future date, as long as it is by September 1^st, 2015. Contact me: wordybirdie AT gmail.com

Wishing you a wonderful 2015.

#NESCBWI14

Usually, the moment I get back from a conference, I set to writing about it, trying to encapsulate the experience, how amazing it was, gushing. But not this year. I have waited a whole 48 hours because I’ve been busy.

Busy? I was busy before the conference, making the final tweaks on my portfolio, working with my critique partner, getting reprinting done when the first batch was a disaster, running errands, as well as my usual hectic work and life stuff. I was busy for a long time in preparation, and yesterday was my first full day off in about 4 months. So perhaps “busy” is not the right word. Since I got back, I have been flowing.

I am deep in creative flow, in fact. My mind has not stopped firing. I have not stopped working, researching, learning to use Scrivener, brainstorming, planning, writing, and I have progressed both in knowledge and inspiration. I feel as if I have been catapulted forward: by what I learned in workshops, by a nice little bit of success...

Runner-up R.Michelson Galleries Award 2014

 ...but, without any doubt, above all by the energy and warmth I experienced this weekend.

The evening before I left for the conference, I sat waiting for pick-up pizza and writing in my journal. I was so excited to be going. I was SO excited to be in that environment again, and to take the step of presenting my portfolio for the first time (gulp!), and to see all of my friends, most of all. And I wrote, “Tomorrow, I am going home.” And then I did.

And now I have to wait another year to do it again. I don’t really have the words right now—it’s a quiet, happy, very replete feeling I have—so I’ll direct you to the blog of my kid-lit buddy, Ross Cox. He’s already said what I feel most of all, and he's said it far better than I feel capable of right now…

And besides, I’m itching to go back to my manuscript. 

March 17th

I don't know about you, but I'm really a bit over winter. It's funny how you can be doing fine with winter, and it can be treating you fairly well on the whole, and then within the space of a few short days, numerous things go awry. And you haven't got light warm breezes and yellow flowers and the feel of grass beneath your feet to support you as sweep things into shape. (Well, you might be lucky enough to have a few crocuses, but they keep getting covered up with snow.)

And then, goodness gracious, it's St. Patrick's day, and that leprechaun pops in for morning tea, messing with wires and data as these geeky hispter-doofus leprechauns of the twenty-first century tend do. And as the leprechaun skips away and the emails-that-need-answering pour into your inbox at last, and drivers and folks around and even yourself all start to get snarlish, you realize you're at that point. Spring really needs to get here. 

But guess what? It's coming! And even if it might seem impossible that spring will soon be here, I'd like to share some proof. I hope it gives you as much of a lift as it gave me. 

So, following, a few things I saw on my walk.  

skunk cabbage shoots in non-frozen water

milky ice with withered edges

sporing moss, spring moss green

numerous red-winged blackbirds, buzz-trilling in the trees

2014, The Year of [insert intention here]

Do you love New Year as much as I do? It’s my favorite holiday of all. One of my rituals is getting up before dawn and going out to greet the first sunrise of the year. 

6:50 this morning.

Ever since I first understood New Year’s resolutions existed, I have taken this time of year very seriously. My family and friends seem to find it a bit amusing, but accept this little quirk as my Very Important Ritual. It goes like this:

• Purge and deep clean creative/work space
• Take some quiet, reflective alone time
• Buy new journal (chosen by me, and only me!)
• Write The List

Do you make The List? I'm betting many of you do, too. My List’s structure has evolved over the years, and I no longer make resolutions, which tend to set even a very determined person up for certain failure. After all, a single transgression, one slipup, and you’ve already failed. These years, I make a series of goals for each area of my life: Health & Fitness, Professional, Creative, and so on, depending on what I most hope to grow.

The thing about goals is this: it's incredibly easy to fall short of meeting them. And so, I tend to make BIG goals for the next year, knowing it is somewhat unlikely I will be able to fully complete them in the 12 months I’ve set myself, but feeling I would rather make it partway through a really big goal, than fall short on one that was smaller and possibly less worthy. Do you, like me, allow yourself to start the year dreaming big with a huge sense of hope and possibility? I believe it can carry me through my inevitable slumps in energy, inspiration, and motivation (and also through moment or three when I kick myself for making such big goals that seem so far away. Hah.).

7:05 

Since I was fourteen and read The Year of Living Dangerously by Christopher J. Koch, I have also named each year. I’ve had The Year of Going Forth, The Year of Simply Living, and The Year of Achieving Greatness! I have a good chuckle as I add this dash of melodrama, but I’m careful to always choose a name that has real meaning. It’s the banner I hope to march under for the next twelve months.

What would be written on your banner for 2014, if you had one? What do you most want to achieve or learn or heal or feel? Have you thought about how to get there, and determined the steps it might realistically take? Do you make resolutions or goals, and if so, do you prefer smaller goals or larger ones?

In 2013, I feel I’ve finally achieved one of my big goals for the last few years—to let go of some fears that were holding me back creatively. And so, 2014, I dub thee... 

The Year of Creating Fearlessly!

Arise 2014 and my writer and illustrator friends, and go forth. May you strive for something close to your heart and work toward your goals boldly, bravely, and fearlessly!

 

Sunrise!  

Musical Interlude, for the Winter Solstice

A pretty little something I've been enjoying on this dark first night of winter. This is Grizzly Man by Rockettothesky. 

Later, I will be reading The Longest Night, written by Marion Dane Bauer and illustrated by Ted Lewin (Holiday House, 2009). 

Possibly, my ten-year-old may think she's too old to listen, but she'll be wrong, and when it gets to the part with the chickadee, we'll sing together,

        "And dee and dee and dee," she sings.
        "And dee and dee, again."

You're never too old for a great picture book.

Happy Solstice, to you and yours!

Another Musical Interlude: Breathe

And another gift from Scandinavia, this time from Norway. This is Breathe by The White Birch. 

Yes, it's another melancholy one, but it's quite pretty and atmospheric, lovely triggers for writing hard in my experience. 

Shall we write hard on this dark December night, my fine feathered friends?

Musical Interlude: Olafur Arnalds

I've got to tell you, I love Spotify. It just keeps giving me good stuff. 

I often (not always) tend to like moody, melancholy stuff when I write, because it usually gets me into the zone very fast. Cello and piano really do it for me; those of you who read my blog already know what music I tend to put forth as good music for writing. 

This is what I'm listening to right now. It's working like a charm. And I like this video, too.

Does music work for you? And if so, what kind?

Illustratorganza

I am still glowing from an illustrators’ retreat and kids’ book illustration extravaganza weekend, staying in the Berkshires with my fellow illustrators Hazel Mitchell, Russ Cox, Carlyn Beccia, Greg Matusic, Sean Bixby, Kevin M. Barry, and Teri Weidner. It’s hard to explain just how good it was, but I’ll give it a shot.

On Friday afternoon, I drove down a steep gravel road through woodland as early wintery darkness set in... 

...and finally found my way to an old barn converted into a warmly lit and inviting home, mere footsteps from a lake surrounded by soaring wooded hills. 

The company was inviting, too, and although I knew everyone but Teri, I didn’t know them well. But we were soon sipping cocktails and laughing, enjoying a gourmet dinner cooked by Russ, poring over the many picture books we had brought to share, and sketching when we felt like it. The boys may have flattened Teri and me at the Foosball table (sorry Teri!). Carlyn read my fortunes in the crinkles on my palms. She knows why 52 is my lucky number, but will never tell. I fell asleep to a jaunty banjo and laughter upstairs, which continued well into the wee smalls. 

Greg and Russ 

The next day, after a veritable feast a la Hazel, I enjoyed a solitary woodland walk. 

Carlyn, digital painting master, gave us a Corel Painter demo, convincing the skeptical that it is, indeed, awesome.

There might have been second breakfast, followed by elevenses, and a hearty lunch. And then a low key afternoon of sitting around drawing, with music, occasional chatting, and an afternoon tea or two. If you’ve ever quietly enjoyed making art among a group of like-minded others happily doing the same, you’ll understand the wonderfulness. And to top it off, Hazel's haunting rendition of the Skye Boat Song on some kinda wind instrument took my breath away. Perfection.

On Saturday evening, we put on our glad rags...

...piled into two cars, and went to New York State…for all of 30 seconds (I was excited), and then we turned around, returned to Mass, and the opening of the Wendell Minor Retrospective* at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. I did plenty of drooling over Rockwell’s paintings. 

...and Russ did some hard pondering.

Carlyn and I did manage to slip in some sneaky, creepy author stalking. She was successful...

Carlyn pokes David McCullough  

...but I never did find the elusive Buzz Aldrin. If I had, no doubt I would have poked him, too.

And Hazel? Well she's a networker extraordinaire!

Hazel, David McCullough, and somebody else.   

On Sunday, after another Hazelian feast, we cleaned our home-away-from-home and trundled off to the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, where we perused the Mo Willems* exhibit...

Mo Willems's progress charts. Works of art in themselves. 

heard Chris Van Allsburg speak... 

Here we (sans Greg) are waiting to hear C.VanA. speak. From left to right: Kevin, Hazel, Sean, Sleepy Carlyn, Somnambulant Russ, Teri, and me. 

...and as we had the night before, stood in a very “popular” line to have our books signed. For quite a while… Simply an occasion for more chats and bonding, and that long wait is actually one of my nicest memories from the weekend.

Sean and Chris (VAN ALLSBURG!), just, you know, two dudes hangin'. 

And from there it was onto the R. Michelson Galleries in Northampton for the 24^th Annual Children’s Book Illustration Exhibit*, where we hobnobbed...

...with such esteemed book creators as Caldecott winners/honorees ChrisVan Allsburg, Mordicai Gerstein, and Tony DiTerlizzi, and where my critique partner, Dave Bird, was honored for winning the R. Michelson Galleries EmergingArtist Award in the NESCBWI 2013 Poster Competition. I also caught up with some kid-lit friends I haven’t seen in a while.

Published authors & illustrators at the show. Image courtesy of R. Michelson Galleries, Seth Kaye photography. 

It was such a fabulous weekend, and I can’t wait to do it again. It just underlines to me how important it is to find and spend time with your peoples, the peoples who are on the same journey, who “get it,” and who are in it for the long haul. It’s an effortless and frequently hilarious way to make new friends, not to mention get a lot of art done, eat, and make much merry. 

Tablecloth evolves... (I think this is Russ Cox's section)

And evolves... (Sean Bixby's section)

...and ends up like this.

Thanks so much, Hazel, and to all of you. When are we doing it again?

*Each of these exhibits are running, and are within an hour and twenty minutes of each other in Massachusetts. Well worth the trip.

The Liberation of the “Shitty First Draft” (or Don’t Get Stuck in the Bog)

© Marlo Garnsworthy 2013

Years of editing have taught me a great deal about writing, and I’m very grateful for it. But an editor’s path can be a tricky one when it comes to writing her own book. As so many of you who are inclined toward self-editing will know, it’s so easy to get mired in the morass of perfecting each paragraph in chapters one to three, when you really know you should be leaping with abandon though the narrative.

Anne Lamott, in Bird By Bird, Some Instructions on Writing and Life (what’s not to love with a title like that?), speaks of the importance of allowing yourself to write “shitty first drafts”:

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep       you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.  

Possibly you, like me, have more than one manuscript that has been well and truly stymied before the halfway mark by agonizing over individual scenes (or, more often, sentences) before you have the basic plot down. If one is lucky enough to feel the rush of love that comes with a new project, one should keep going and not fuss it to death a few steps in. There will be time enough for revision and the subtleties of each phrase later on. Plenty of time to fill in the richer details. Loads of time, in fact, as revision should be at least nine tenths of writing a book. (If you love revision and editing, as I do, that’s great news. But if you’re past the honeymoon phase with your project, or if you never really fell in love in the first place, you’d still be well advised to forge ahead and not edit. You’re already on the edge of a soul-sucking quagmire.)

I'm finding it's very freeing to allow yourself to write stuff that sounds awful (rather like this sentence). I’m taking my own advice on this project I started a few weeks ago, and I’m writing mad wonderful garbage. At least, if I were to read it as an editor, I’d think, “Oh dear, we do have quite a bit of work to do here, possibly starting with the basics of sentence construction, but there’s something special about the story.” But I’m not editing; I’m just getting scraps of scenes down. I’m letting characters say what they want to say even if it’s repetitive or nonsensical right now. I’m catching incomplete impressions, jotting unfinished and ridiculous sentences, and I’m ignoring my spellchecker until the end of each writing session. I’m letting the story reveal itself as I forge about it without stopping—and lo and behold, it is.  

The only time I’m returning to a paragraph is when something additional or better occurs to me in a flash of inspiration as I pass by it. I must admit there have been a few sentences that I have tweaked, but only—and this is the kicker—ONLY when a better way to say something comes to me as part of this naturally energized process, that is, only within the pure flow of inspiration. If I catch myself starting to fuss, I stop and move away from the paragraph or scene. Among other strategies and even more strategies I’ve discussed before, try simply scrolling through the manuscript or through your notes until something else catches your attention. Turn your focus to another scene altogether, whichever tugs you hardest, and then start writing forward afresh. 

Your draft might sound like muck, but you’ll be finding your way across the narrative terrain, though possibly chaotically. Sure, you might arrive muddy, disheveled, feathers askew, but you’ll be creating a map, almost by default, which you can later refine and revise. You’ll know the basic way, relatively quickly, and with MUCH more FUN. It doesn't mean you won’t write some dead-ends on your map along the way, because there will be some, of course. 

Move on through that mucky, messy, probably non-linear first draft, before the energy and the will to make the journey flee. Before you lose sight of what you really wanted to write about. Before the maps for possible plot-lines are so thick around you, you cannot see your way past them. Before you're afraid to even try. Don’t get bogged down planning the trip and what you might need along the way, or whether you even know where your story is going. Start somewhere (wherever you are is just fine), and just get on your way. Because it’s extraordinary how you tend to get where you want to go, if you keep your gaze fixed on the horizon, stare less at the stuff by the wayside... and just start writing.

Out On a Limb

© Marlo Garnsworthy 2013

Beginning another new project has been the very last thing on my to-do list. But phrases have been whispering in my mind, repeating and growing in number, as I go about doing other things. While I scramble some eggs or dump out the compost, phrases have been turning into sentences and racing by me, soon sucking along in their wake characters and flashes of scenes. I’ve found myself clutching my notebook at all times (especially between 1 and 4 AM), pencil to page in sudden, unstoppable bursts in order to capture them before they slip away.

This story is the type that comes out all at once, all scattered little pieces blowing about, beginning, middle, and end all right there just waiting to be caught and shuffled into place. It’s a powerful feeling, when a story comes at you in an unbidden whoosh like this. It makes me chuckle out loud as I write, even though it often comes when I’ve been thinking about things that are hard. When I’m in it, I wish writing were always like that; probably, it would be exhausting if it went on too long.   

But it is magical, rare, and powerful, and feels somewhat like falling in love. But as in any passionate relationship, one comes to the end of that first rush; the flashes of pure inspiration are starting to hint that they might be slowing just a little. I haven’t hit the wall yet, but experience tells me it’s coming. What seemed pure and beautiful has some warts, and sometimes it’s grumpy or uncooperative in the morning. My mother talks about the “13-Week Rule” in relationships—the thirteenth week being make or break time. I’m closer to thirteen days into this story, and I’m pondering: How do we know whether to commit to further exploring and developing a manuscript? How do we know when to let go?

Sometimes you have to break up with a project, I’m convinced. Over time, some projects become, like some relationships, pedestrian, uninspiring, unsurprising, detrimental to your psyche, and ultimately unworthy of continuing. And sometimes you just grow out of them. I’m sure most of us have a few manuscripts like that in the drawer. But sometimes you’re so connected to a project that your belief in its worth doesn’t alter much over time, even though the project itself may have its ups and downs, even though you must step away from it now and then to get some breathing space. 

Have you ever broken up with a project? Did you say goodbye amicably, simply lose interest, or was it a tumultuous separation that left you weeping and gasping? Did you dive straight into another to replace it? Have you gotten back together with a project you thought you’d left behind? Do you juggle several at once? Have you plodded through a literary relationship you dreaded was going nowhere but had invested too much in to drop? Would you rather take the safe route and stick with a project you’re sure to handle easily, or would you dare go out on a limb for the challenge that truly inspires you?

It can be all too easy to retreat when you find yourself in the weeds. Because if you don’t really love the project deeply in some way, you’re making an enormous and somewhat dubious commitment if you decide to marry it despite your ambivalence. So doesn’t making the decision to fully commit to a project come down to how it makes you feel deep down?

I think creating a truly strong manuscript worthy of submission is like having a deep, true love: worth sticking with when things go from pure inspiration to tangled complexity; something you can’t seem to let go of no matter how much easier it would be to do something less challenging; always worth exploring just a little bit longer. And it’s something that won’t let you go in return.

So if you’re brave, you commit to it (as I’ve decided to commit to this story), even though you know it will be pure hard work at times, even when you might not have expected to be writing it, even when you’re not sure how it ends, or even quite what it is. Because, like falling in love, who knows? How often do you experience something mind-blowing? And isn’t that why we’re really doing this? 

Musical Interlude: Running Through Woodland

Picture by me, in the woods near my home.

I am heavily into a new story this long weekend, the kind of story that began whispering phrases at me over a week ago, whispers that grew louder and became sentences wailing at me to write them down. A character and a story appearing almost out of the ether. 

Writing is most enjoyable, and often more powerful, when it comes like that.

So, today, a little writing music. Enjoy.

Musical Interlude: The Lion's Roar

Al little writing music, 

a little life music.

NESCBWIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My submission for the poster contest.
Poem "Infirm Pachyderm" by Jane Yolen.

                           NESCBWIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!

If you’ve been, you know why I’m squealing with delight. If you haven’t, then what I say here can’t possibly fully convey how wonderful it is to spend three days with kid-lit folk, see old friends, meet new ones, and soak up wisdom, energy, and knowledge from so many esteemed writers, illustrators, editors, and agents. I return feeling warmed to my core and full to the brim: with knowledge, with inspiration, and with love for these folk and what we’ve all dedicated our lives to. Full and gushy and overflowing.

I’m also shocked and delighted to be able to say that I won 1^st prize in the “published” category of the NESCBWI poster illustration contest. I’m still shaking my head in wonder.

I'm also thrilled and excited to say that my wonderful, extremely talented crit partners and dear friends, Dave Bird and Mary Davison, took out 1st and 3rd in in the "unpublished" category, including Dave winning the major prize of the R.Michelson Galleries Award. Congrats, guys, I'm so, so proud of you. 

Thank you, thank you to the incredibly hard-working and dedicated organizers, faculty, and volunteers who make these conferences possible. You are full to the brim with AWESOME.