musings, life lessons & poetry from Theresa Jarosz Alberti

Category: Uncategorized (Page 12 of 14)

It’s November… Why Not Write a Novel?

Have you heard?  November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as it’s affectionately nicknamed.  Writers around the world sign up on the Nanowrimo website (http://nanowrimo.org), pledging to write a 50,000 word novel draft in a month.  This year more than 250,000 people have signed up for the task.

I first heard about Nanowrimo in 2003.  I had joined a supportive online community called Momwriters  full of so many brilliant, creative women.  As summer came to an end that year, the group started chattering about National Novel Writing Month—there was much excitement about who was going to give it a try, and what they would write about.

It sounded fun… and crazy.  In my mind, that’s often a good mix.  I’d been in a writing class recently, creating a character that I really liked.  I could try writing my novel about him.  So I signed up, not really knowing what I was getting myself into.  Like a good researcher, I combed the website for details and advice, and found that there were regional forums, and a good one for the Twin Cities.  The local people were excited about write-ins and parties.  I quickly caught on—Nanowrimo wasn’t just about the personal challenge of writing; it was a community event.  Writers who so desire get together throughout the month to work on their novels at cafes or other meeting places, sitting at tables with laptops (or occasionally, notebooks and pens)—these are the write-ins.  There’s a Kick-Off Party before the month starts so people can meet, socialize and talk shop, and there’s a TGIO Party (Thank God It’s Over) after November 30th to celebrate or commiserate.  This social aspect really appealed to me.  I like to say, Nanowrimo makes writing a team-sport for one month of the year—a nice change from the usual sitting-quietly-in-a-room-by-oneself that most writers do.

We had a ML—a Municipal Liaison, which is Nanowrimo’s term for volunteer who’s in charge of the region.  Our ML at the time was Zan, an enthusiastic and fun red-head who planned the parties, visited us at write-ins and handed out the spiffy Nano stickers that the organization sent to regions.  (Zan was her screen name–  we all choose screen names, so often we know each other by whatever wacky or not-so-wacky name we came up with.  Mine is Sapphirestar.)

It was definitely a challenge to write a novel that month.  To make it to 50,000 words, you should shoot for writing 1,667 words a day, which is about 5-7 double-spaced pages.  Back then my kids were ages 12 and 9, and everybody knew I was trying to write a lot.  They were supportive, understanding about me wanting to go to write-ins when I could, cheering me on when I was rushing to make my goal that last day of November.  It was such a great feeling that I really accomplished it, having a novel draft a lot further along than I ever thought I would in such a short time frame.

Since 2003, I’ve participated in Nanowrimo every year, which makes this year my 10thSo far, I’ve hit my 50K goal seven times, and fell short of the mark two times.  Over the years, I’ve made many Nano friends—there are some that I only see every November, and two friends that I’ve met through Nano have become “besties” I talk to and see often.  That’s been one of the many great gifts I’ve received from doing this.

I’ve also:  been a co-ML for six years after Zan stepped down, taught classes with a friend on how to do Nanowrimo, been interviewed several times about this strange writing phenomenon for print, radio and video media, and had a chance to meet and talk to Nanowrimo founder Chris Baty, who started all this in 1999 by deciding to write a novel in a month and finding 20 friends to do the same.  He’s hilarious, humble and adorable.

This year, I’m not sure I’ll make it to 50,000 words.  It’s been a tough time with a family crisis, a trip, and lots of time spent helping my son who’s a senior in high school to meet deadlines.  I haven’t been able to attend more than a few write-ins.  But I’m committed to continuing to write this novel, even if it’s only a little at a time.  Nanowrimo is still inspiring me, and I’m still a part of it.  I’m encouraged to know that many Nano novels have been published, including Sara Gruen’s “Water for Elephants” (now a major motion picture) and Erin Morgenstern’s  “The Night Circus”  (soon to be a major motion picture).

As Thanksgiving looms, Nanowrimo is one of the many things I’m grateful for.  Thanks for being such a fun, creative, big-hearted cheerleader of an organization.  This writer saluted you!

First Impressions… Completely Dashed

After seeing a movie with a friend, I went to a café on Saturday night.  A band was playing and the place was crowded, so while S went to the restroom, I scouted out a place for us to sit.  I found two spots on a couch in the back if we sat next to the guy currently there, so I took a seat.

The man was sitting on his end, a figure in black leather and chains.  Maybe he was a metal or punk type, with his boots, piercings, fingerless gloves, red hair pulled back into a dreadlock-like ponytail, with other strings hanging off it.  He was hunched over, and I couldn’t tell how old he was at first.  He looked tough.

Then I looked over and glimpsed what he was doing:  he had a large pad of paper on his lap and was working on a line-drawing with a pen, covering the page with intricate and elaborate black lines, some kind of dark gothic fantasy art (I would soon learn it was an homage to H.P. Lovecraft) with tiny skulls and bodies and trees and creatures and such, all painstakingly woven together in one cohesive piece. I wish I was better at describing his style of art… it’s difficult to tell you just how cool it was.  I wanted to keep looking and studying all the details.  And I felt the urge to say something to him. And yet..

He looked unapproachable, toughened, closed.  He might just grunt or growl or ignore me.  Oh well, I decided to risk it anyway.  Now I could see he was young, in his 20s, so I said, “I just have to tell you that that is amazing.  Are you an art student?”

It was then that the castle walls of my stereotypes and pre-judgments came crashing down.  He turned to look at me with his deep blue eyes and smiled, and then I could see the vulnerable soul sitting next to me, a puppy dog of a man-boy hiding behind his appearance.  He told me no, he wasn’t an art student but wished he could afford to go to art school, and then introduced himself to me and shook my hand.  That was the beginning of a sweet 30-minute conversation with W, who was 24, taking occasional classes at a community college, living alone and probably lonely, and coming to this café to draw now and then.

My friend S came over to sit with us, and since she’s an artist as well, I knew the conversation would be good with all the back-and-forths of shop talk.  We gave him tips and resources for free artist workshops and sketching groups around town, and he eagerly pulled out his big portfolio, which had a lot of  impressive gothic fantasy art, and some pieces dating back to 8th grade and high school, other styles as well, some color pencil drawings, scenes and faces.  He was very talented, and it wasn’t hard to compliment his work.

When we left, we wished him luck and gave him encouragement… he’d said he came to this café often to draw, so maybe we’d see him there sometime.  W returned to his drawing.

And me?  I was left with this wonderful sensation of a prejudice/judgment/myth shattering around me.  I’d had to leap over something to take the chance to speak to that tough-looking guy, taking a chance and then getting to receive something so simple–  an unexpected, sweet conversation, and a connection with a tender soul just wanting to make something amazing. I’m glad I leapt.

The Curtain Goes Up*

“Fruit Fly, the Musical”… 2012 Fringe Show

Two weeks ago, I was all caught up in the Minnesota Fringe Festival, 11 days of 165 hour-long local theater performances.    Fringe began just before our humongous party and life was pretty hectic, so I didn’t see any shows until Day 7 … but after that, I managed to squeeze in 11 performances.  There’s a crazy, magical energy I get from going to Fringe shows— figuring out which shows to go to, reading online reviews, talking to others while waiting in line, the anticipation of waiting for the show to start.  It’s like the same energy I get from writing sometimes, or participating in National Novel Writing Month (more on that another day), listening to great live music, or reading a well-crafted novel.  A humming, exciting buzz.

The Guthrie Theater

My husband told me last week that the Twin Cities have more theaters per capita of anywhere outside of New York.  Who, us?  I couldn’t help but be surprised and proud of our wonderfully artistic community here.  Other theater facts:  Minnesota is home to the Old Log, one of the country’s oldest continuously running theaters, and has the largest dinner theater (the Chanhassan).  We also have the revolutionary Guthrie Theater, conveniently just up the road from our home.  It’s the largest regional playhouse in the country.  It has drawn in such famous actors as Jessica Tandy, Sir Ian McKellen (who did a nude scene as King Lear), William H. Macy, Frank Langella, Melissa Gilbert, Val Kilmer, David Hyde Pierce, Julianne Moore, and T.R. Knight.

With all this theater around us, we as a family have been lucky to experience some of it.  When the kids were little, I would wait in line to get discount season tickets to the preview performances for The Children’s Theater, so every year we were seeing fabulous shows like A Year with Frog and Toad (which went on to Broadway), The Snow Queen, and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  Then the schools my kids attended got involved with Project Success, a youth-development organization which, among other things, encourages inner city youth to attend theater performances, and helps make this possible by providing families with free tickets, and babysitting and transportation, if desired.  Because of this generous organization, our family has gotten to see a lot of exceptional theater over the years, performances we never would have been able to afford on our own.  Tons of shows at the Guthrie, lots of Shakespeare, even the Nutcracker Ballet on Christmas Eve, A Christmas Carol, and even The Rockettes!

A Christmas Carol at the Guthrie

And yet… as they got older, the kids would sometimes complain that I was dragging them to another dumb playwhy do we have to go? (To be honest, one complained more than the rest.)  Sometimes as a parent, I’ve doubted myself or questioned myself about why I was doing something when I had to fight to get it to happen.  But not with theater.  Every time, I treated the plays we got to see as  important, a treat, something we were lucky enough to get to attend.  And my oft-repeated words to my kids were this:  we’re going because this is part of your education.  There are things that I’ve found lacking in your education through the schools, and seeing these performances is just as imporant as your math and reading classes.  We are lucky to have these free tickets, and even if you don’t like what you see, you’ll be getting something out of it.

(And usually they liked what they saw.  Even if they didn’t, they thought about why they didn’t like it and we had great conversations about it on the way home.)

With my youngest being a senior this year, it will be our last year with Project Success.  After all they’ve given to us, I owe them a donation or several, and I’ll have to start paying for more of our theater experiences.  And I will, because for me, theater is important.  It’s a part of MY education too, and this live and living and literary art form enriches my life, giving me that good creative buzz.  It makes me want to make things.  TV rarely does.  So save a seat for me when the curtain goes up!

*Thanks to Maud Hart Lovelace for the title, which she used in her amazing book, Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown.

Let’s Not Party Like It’s 1999

Party in the street

A few months ago, my husband B told me he wanted to have a huge party in August, to celebrate him turning 50, our twins turning 21, and his recent graduation 32 years after starting college.  “Just how big?”  I asked.

“Oh, a couple hundred people or so.  I want to block off the street and get a band to play.”

Gulp.  My first reaction was heart-clenching anxiety.  I was having flashbacks to our last big party, when the twins graduated from high school 3 years ago.  We invited a lot of people but had no idea how many would show.  We deep cleaned and decluttered for 2 months (a big feat, as cleaning is not a top priority for us), I planned and made lists of every last detail, and came up with a Martha Stewart-esque taco bar.  I’ve seen other (saner) people have some ground beef, cheese and salsa and call it a day, but in my drive to make it “Nice,” I made vats of seasoned ground beef, chicken, pork, and vegetarian beans, shopped and cooked for days.  People loved the party and praised the food, but I was totally burnt out. (And we ate leftovers for months afterwards.)

On a smaller scale, this is what I’ve tended to do for all the kids’ birthday parties and holidays over the year.  I plan with detailed lists so that I’m walking around muttering to myself trying to think of everything.  I cook the food from scratch, and bake/frost/decorate the cakes myself.  I clean and shop, and then– as my family knows too well– as we get nearer the party, I become a drill seargent, yelling at them to help me do this or that, because there’s no way I can get it all done (add a heap of my built-up resentment in there too).  And during all this time, I’m in a state of anxiety and fear— afraid I won’t get it all done, afraid of people seeing my imperfect house and judging me, afraid the party will not be Perfect. Underneath it all is despair that I’ve given up myself and my own needs for several weeks because I’m driven by Perfectionism.  Sigh!

I’ve known for a long time that this isn’t a good set-up for me, or for anyone else… but I honestly didn’t know how to change it.  The panic was too great for me to do anything but what I knew how to do.  And I know there are many reasons that I’ve gotten into this miserable way of operating– lots of childhood issues I won’t go into here.  I’ve been working on them, really really hard.  But we haven’t had a party since that overwhelming graduation party… and now B was asking for one, a bigger one than we’ve ever had.

It may sound extreme, but the idea was sending me into a PTSD state.  The anxiety and fear barged their way in, and I just wanted to stand straight still and do nothing.  Luckily, we have two wonderful therapists that we see for couple’s counseling, and we talked it out with them.  As usual, they got us to see things from each other’s point of view, got to us empathize with what the other was feeling.  Also as usual, they said “oh Theresa, what a great opportunity for you to work with your feelings!”  (groan)  And they helped us formulate a plan.  It may sound like a strange one, but it worked for us–

B would be in charge of the whole party.  He would make the plans, he would find out how to close off the street, he would hire a band, he would do the invites.  It was his party, and he’d get to have it the way he wanted it.  He would grill brats and veggie burgers, provide beer and root beer kegs, and then the rest would be potluck and BYOB.  He wouldn’t clean because the party would be in the street.  And my job was to not plan, not worry, and just take care of getting coolers and ice.  Coolers and ice!  Okay then.

This may sound like it was a proverbial piece of cake for me… but let’s just say it wasn’t.  It was hard to let that old party planner in me go… not only a perfectionist, but she has some teensy-weensy control issues too.  But I wanted to make this work for B, and I wanted to not be afraid of parties, and I wanted to try something new.

I wasn’t perfect at letting go–  I still had anxiety about the party, but was better at remembering that I didn’t have to listen to that panicked voice in my head.  I felt my fears and anxieties and worked with those feelings, rather than letting them take over.  B and I had many great talks and were really understanding each other in the weeks before the party.  It wasn’t easy for me, but it was different, and I was acting differently–my family reported I was much better, no drill seargent this time.

I did do more than just coolers and ice– I decided I wanted to make the cakes, since I do like to bake.  I did do cleaning (not excessive).  I did help out with other details.  But it was still a big change for me in giving up control, doing much less, and letting go.

And the party was great!  We had fabulous weather, over a hundred happy people, tables of potluck goodies, fun music and 21 year olds hosting a bonfire. B loved it, and I did too.  I remembered the good parts about having a party– how fun it is to get together with family and friends.

I learned a lot about myself in this process.  I’m sure I’ll still struggle with these same issues in the future… but now I actually don’t mind the idea of maybe someday kinda hosting another (probably smaller!) party.  Whee!

Happy Birthday!

 

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