Right Brain, Scatter Brain

I’ve been thinking about hand preferences a lot lately. As I try to puzzle out Nicholas’s hand preference, and as I watch Alex at baseball, I am reminded that I am a weirdo: left handed, but not exactly, because the only thing I do left handed is write. Well, that’s not exactly true; I can bowl with either hand (I can never decide which one works better–I’m wretched either way). But in any case, I do everything else like all you right-handers out there.

So, because I’m feeling really uninspired today (I’ve already discarded two post topics), and because my kids are already awake upstairs, I give you this repost, neither weighty nor poignant–simply a laugh. (I hope.) 

(Note: if you look up “left hand” on Picapp, you get pictures of amputated limbs. Aren’t you glad I didn’t choose one of them?)

***

 ”Cleaning and scrubbing can wait for tomorrow,
For babies grow up, I’ve learned, to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.”

(Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)

When she’s at home, my mother-in-law is a consummate housekeepr. Her trash cans are emptied daily (at least), her dishes are washed, dried and put away after each meal, and each night she straightens whatever mess her kids, grandkids, husband and in-laws have left.

My cousin Becky managed to design and build a house and parent two elementary age boys while living in a two-car garage for a year. She’s organized, calm, and her boys are well-behaved, all-around good kids.

My friend Tricia designs a summer-long program of chores, activities and recreation, down to daily menus for a balanced diet.

And then there’s me.

My laundry grinds to a halt mid-cycle and lays in piles of madness that grow every time I throw a dirty bib up the stairs.

I stick up my nose every Thursday, thinking, Aw man, it’s been a week already since I cleaned the house?

The dishes get washed at least every third day. But not necessarily put away.

And last week I took the kids up to the farm for a daylong outing, and I left the diaper bag at home.

My friend Jim chuckled when I related that. Then he quickly curbed it. “Well,” he said graciously, “you’re one of those creative right-brained people.”

Scatterbrained is more like it. And the more I think about it, the more I think he’s right—only there’s more to it than that. I’m scatterbrained because my attention is split in too many directions. School liturgies. Weekend liturgies. Music projects for publishers. New music projects. Novels. Short stories. Articles. Reading about writing. Reading in general. The kids. NFP recertification.

Oh yeah, don’t forget the housework.

Last weekend the readings at church said, “From those given much, much will be expected.” I guess that’s me. I just wish part of the bequest had been a brain capable of keeping it all straight.

Published in: on June 8, 2010 at 5:39 am  Comments (3)  
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Word(less)ful Wednesday, et al

Aren’t they pretty? Kudos to Spring Hill.

Today I am guest posting for Rae over at No Wealth But Life. Rae is one of the most thoughtful, reason-driven faithful women I know. Lately she’s been running an interesting series of guest posts on the topic: To stay at home, or not to stay at home? My response was, of course–”Yes.” And after all the blogging I’ve done on the topic of balance, and life in the middle, and juggling me time versus being a mommy, I think this post is where I finally got it worked out the way I wanted it. Check it out at Rae’s place.

 

Published in: on May 26, 2010 at 8:44 am  Comments (5)  
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Paralysis

(Warning: If you’re not interested in reading about the writing process, skip to the end!)

“Art is never finished—only abandoned.”
Leonardo da Vinci

It’s a big deal to finish a novel. At least, if you listen to the collective wisdom of the writing world. And maybe they’re right. But despite the long lapse in years between starting (cursive on notebook paper, 2005) and finishing (five versions later, four major rewrites, 2010), I never doubted that I would finish the thing. It’s the next step that intimidates me.

 How do you go about obtaining representation—i.e., an agent?

Well. I’ve been reading on this subject for as long as I’ve been writing with an eye to publication, and let me tell you, it’s quite a process. According to other writers, it’s almost as difficult to get an agent as it is to land a book deal. The query letter and synopsis are going to KICK YOUR BUTT. And you MUST DO MARKET RESEARCH and READ THE BOOKS THAT THE AGENTS HAVE REPRESENTED, to make sure they’re REALLY A GOOD FIT FOR YOU and help you WOW THEM WITH A PERSONALIZED query letter.

So three weeks ago, when I finished my novel, I began the process, aiming for two weeks to put together a submission package and have the queries sent—but knowing how things go in the world of a SAHM-writing mom. And I began searching out agents.

 

The first thing that happened was that I found the Guide to Literary Agents blog…which went on my Google Reader. Then I started reading articles on their site (which is terrific), and decided I had to learn how to write a synopsis. That led me to several dozen other articles, which pointed me to such sites as QueryTracker and AgentQuery, who recommend that you double check with Preditors and Editors to make sure that there aren’t complaints against the people you’re considering.

 

And oh, yes, there’s this all-important question: Is it, or is it not, okay to send queries to several agents at the same time? That detour lasted another three hours. And very soon I reached…

Paralysis.

 What exactly was I supposed to be doing? Oh, yes, searching for agents. Preparing a submission package.

 The trouble is that all those pieces of research are necessary. But not all of them are necessary at the same time. I looked at QueryTracker and had absolutely no idea what to do with it. But ten days later, after I had a list of agents and a rough synopsis, I happened back across it and said, “Oh, that’s what this is for!”

 And this leads me to my primary point, which despite the long intro will not be a long-winded one. Writers—many writers, anyway, myself included—are obsessive about feedback and advice. We have perfected the taking of criticism to an art, until sometimes we want others to do our thinking for us. My breakthrough moment came when I realized that sooner or later I had to stop culling other people’s wisdom and just start writing. That doesn’t mean I stopped researching—but my reading became more focused, and no longer involved a tangled www.eb of tangents. It’s vital to start writing before paralysis becomes permanent.

I triumph! Yesterday, I sent out my first three queries.

 ***

 My poor readers. I’ve been jawing about writing all week. Cross my heart, I promise that tomorrow I will return to family matters. And I have a job for you. Beginning with tomorrow’s Thursday Motherhood Moment, I want to hear YOUR stories. Think back through the last week or two and come up with some little moment you can share!

Published in: on April 7, 2010 at 5:43 am  Comments (4)  
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A Matter of Balance

Am I first a wife, a mother, or a writer?

Like most “either/or” questions, the answer is “yes.” I do not accept that being a mother must take something away from being a wife. Nor do I believe that writing must be done at the expense of my family obligations. Throughout the ages, people have done great things without sacrificing their families. Of course, many others have done great things at the expense of their familial relationships. But that is why I spend so much time seeking balance. Not in a mystical, Zen kind of way, but in a deeply practical, “rubber hits the road” kind of way.

I don’t spend much bandwidth on the topic of writing, because most of those who read what I write aren’t really interested in the process—only the results.

Besides, being a wife and mother shapes my work. It limits the time I can spend and provides me with boundless material—hence, “so much to say, so little time.”

Writers are neurotic about seeking advice (more on that later this week), and equally happy to shell out our two cents. But I would rather add my voice to the multitudes of mothers, and in so doing, accomplish two tasks in one: record my life and connect with you, my wonderful readers. (It’s all about multitasking, folks.)

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Published in: on April 5, 2010 at 5:05 am  Comments (13)  
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Unwrapping the Gift of a Day Off

Michelle at Graceful is my guru this Lent.

First, she gently prodded me to reconsider my use of the internet.

Then, she echoed how I felt in doing so.

And then encouraged me in the struggle.

She inspired me to be careful of the way I present my faith, reminding me that living it is more important than talking about it. I realized that it’s easy to write about God, but sometimes the blank screen encourages me to write things that sound good but are only half-true.

And then came Sunday.

Normally I don’t write on the weekends. Maybe a blog post, maybe ten minutes to scribble down an idea, but those are days off. Days to spend with my family.

However, right now I’m having to check my temperature every morning, and my brain starts racing the minute I wake up; there’s no going back to sleep. So at 5:30 a.m. on Sunday, I went downstairs and turned on the computer, as if it was any other day. I began by checking my Google reader. The first words that I saw were: “Sunday is For Slowing:”

“By making our greatest and most important goal the one of
productivity, we miss out on the ways that God’s gifts of grace
come to us by doing nothing.”

Nora Gallaher, The Sacred Meal 

I gnashed my teeth. My hands trembled over the keyboard. My brain went to war with itself over the possible two hours of uninterrupted writing time I was being asked to forego.

And then, wincing, I shut the computer down, and sat down with my scrapbooking stuff.

The gift of a Sunday off looked something like this: I only checked email twice. I stayed off Facebook. I left the writing documents closed. I cooked dinner at a leisurely pace, and had it all on the table before we sat down. I finished four scrapbook layouts—yes, I said four—and I went to bed relaxed, instead of queasy with exhaustion.

It was a good day. Thank you, God, for simple gifts–and for the people who inspire them.

(To unwrap more gifts in the everyday, visit Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting At The Sky.)

For more blogs worth reading, check out Genny’s Talkin’ Thursdays:

Published in: on March 2, 2010 at 6:28 am  Comments (8)  
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Breaking the Addiction, Day 7

When various blog-friends began talking about an internet fast for Lent, my first reaction was, Whoa! That is a *great* Lenten penance! In every word they wrote, I recognized myself, but I felt sure that I couldn’t do it myself. After all, the reason I began blogging was to develop a “platform” (if you’re not a writer and don’t know what I’m talking about, spare yourself the pain), and although the purpose has evolved, platform-building remains important. I can’t just take a break from blogging for “forty” days. Besides, I have assignments and deadlines—articles, and a second book of flute pieces to finish and send, not to mention the neglected novel that I am determined to submit this year. I have to use the web.

If that sounds like a string of excuses, it’s because it is.

In the end, I settled for a compromise. I decided to fast from checking blog stats. I knew how hard it would be, even though it sounds so trivial. But I wasn’t counting on the persistence of temptation!

I begin the day by posting, which is accessed through the dashboard, upon which the basic hits counter resides. I thought, at first, that I might be able to sneak an “accidental” peek in the morning while opening up my blog. (So much for good intentions.) But it is just below the level of the opening screen. Any peek would require a deliberate breaking of the fast on my part.

The full “stats” page is an easy click, a bright blue link, cheerily taunting me from the left navigation bar. On the blog proper, the total hits counter beckons. All I would have to do is glance at the number and do a little math, and I’d know my daily hits.

I resist, but oh, it’s hard. My whole consciousness strains toward the vain affirmation of those little numbers. Numbers that, in the grand scheme of things, are so very unimportant. How did I get so attached to them? Is this withdrawal?

As Michelle at Graceful points out, it’s amazing how much time is freed up. I am doing more dishes, more straightening, more playing with the kids, and getting more writing done. I’m not sure that’s really the point; I have this feeling that I should be spending that “free” time in prayer and reflection. In fact, I’m almost sure of it. But unlike Advent, I don’t have a plan for Lent yet, to help me achieve my spiritual goals—only an idealized vision. It’s a vision that’s based on my own experiences, but the years in which I really embraced the great, holy emptiness of Lent most powerfully were the years I spent in Iowa, far from home, without transportation on a suitcase campus, where life was focused pretty much entirely on me. Obviously, that’s not the case anymore. I have to grow into a new way to experience the emptiness. And it may not be realistic for years to come. I mean, silence and stillness are just not things that mesh well with parenthood.

Yet somehow, I have to find them. I need to walk through that desert. I wonder, is this fast of mine actually accomplishing anything useful in terms of closeness with God?

Maybe I’m too close to it to know, right now. Maybe the answer to that question will be revealed in time. And maybe I’m just floundering. But I guess that even a failed attempt is a step along the path.

Published in: on February 23, 2010 at 8:02 am  Comments (5)  
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How do you do it all?

It happens to me quite regularly. I’ll be talking to someone and she (it’s almost always a she) shakes her head and says, “I don’t know how you do it all.”

I always shrug, thinking, I don’t think I want to think about it. But as I canvassed the aisles at Aldi this weekend, murmuring options for a line in a song that was causing me trouble, I realized, This is how I do it all.

And so, here is my answer to the question: How does this stay-at-home mom, freelance writer, flute and voice teacher, composer, blogger, choir director, NFP teacher, scrapbooker, sometime-chef and budding disability rights activist do it all?

  1. I get up every day at 5:30. Sometimes 4, if a kidlet wakes me up.
  2. Except for the early months of nursing, I’m a huge believer in schedules and routines. (And even then, the baby is the only one who doesn’t have a schedule.)
  3. I believe that days when nothing is scheduled are ALWAYS the LEAST productive. You see all that white space and think you think you have a little time to relax and do nothing, and then suddenly the day’s gone and you’ve done…you got it—nothing.
  4. I plan the day in chunks: before we do X at 9a.m., I must accomplish Y.
  5. I read fast and type faster. (Though I occasionally hit “post” before I think.)
  6. I pay babysitters so I have time to write.
  7. I’m a compulsive list maker, because my memory isn’t great. Except for song lyrics, of which I know hundreds.
  8. I break everything down into very small tasks, and use them as plot points toward a larger goal.
  9. I am a compulsive multitasker. While web pages upload, I grab food from the refrigerator; then I respond to a comment and run back to get the food in the microwave and come back to read the next email. While I nurse, I do my neck stretches and read. Although I do get distracted by teasing the baby and making him laugh. You can’t just ignore a baby attached to you. It’s contrary to nature. ;)
  10. When I don’t have kids in the car with me, I turn the radio off and think through something: to-do list, story plotting, playing around with opening lines.
  11. When I need to work on the piano, I take the kids downstairs and play for a few minutes, then sit down and compose while they play. The little ones love the music.
  12. I use therapy appointments, when one or two kids are distracted, to clean floors, do dishes, run through email, etc.
  13. I do not watch TV during the day. Ever. At. All. In the One Baby era, I used to watch movies, but that ship has sailed.
  14. I hardly ever sit down for lunch. I make bread, feed the baby and read my Writer’s Digest in between bites.
  15. Whenever there’s a pause in the action, I think, Okay, I have three minutes. What can I accomplish in three minutes?
  16. I DON’T pay babysitters to run errands or go grocery shopping. I take them with me and put up with the whining.
  17. I DON’T play Farmville or Mafia Wars, and I join no snowball or pillow fights. Sorry, folks. Where the bleep bleep bleep do you people find time for that stuff?????
  18. I DON’T participate much in discussions on list serves. Partly because I receive things in digest and everything I want to say has been said by the time I get the initial question.
  19. I can’t underestimate the Kid factor. My kids are naturally good at entertaining themselves, and I have encouraged them in this trait. So that’s a big part of my puzzle.
  20. And finally, I accept that nothing is going to get done perfectly. I’m all about “adequate.” Which drives my husband crazy, as he is all about the details. For me, details are limited to kids and submissions. Everything else can do without.

You might say, “But Kate, what about time to enjoy your kids?” Well, there’s some truth to that, but as busy as I am, I really do enjoy my kids. My life is not a particularly relaxing one, but it’s productive, and that works for me.

What are your tips for getting it all done?

Published in: on January 18, 2010 at 6:14 am  Comments (6)  
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Listening…

Saturday afternoon, we arrived home to a relatively clean house, a stack of mail, and seven voice mails. The very first one was from Sr. Mary Ann, my grandfather’s sister and the woman who taught me to play checkers on that same vacation in 1980 that I shared pictures of a few days ago. She is an avid “reader” of this blog, and her Christmas message was heartfelt, and to the point: Kate, I hope you take time to find the quiet this year.

It got me thinking about my expectations: what I need, and what I only think I need. Last night, for instance, Julianna was sitting beside me at the piano as I talked to a voice student, whining for me to play music; so I began hitting random chords…and discovered something beautiful that I wanted to write down. So do I really need quiet to hear the music–or do I just need to go sit down and start playing?

I’ve all but given up on quiet for the moment. I have hopes for four weeks from now, when Julianna starts school…but they are hopes tempered by reality. It’s reality that there isn’t enough time for everything; every day I have to choose between quiet time and work time; exercise and writing; scrapbooking and house cleaning.  That is the reality of life with three small children, and that is my blessing. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that I begged God every night for three years, in tears and raw suffering, to give us one child.

And therein, I believe, lies my answer. I may want to listen to God in the stillness, in the quiet—but in this season of my life, God speaks to me through my children: through Alex, playing dress-up doll with his sister; through Julianna’s sweet hugs and infectious giggles; through Nicholas’s sparkling eyes and Mamama’s. My task is to learn to listen in a new way.

***

Every Wednesday, we Walk with Him, posting a spiritual practice that draws us nearer to His heart. Join Ann at Holy Experience.

Published in: on January 6, 2010 at 8:22 am  Comments (10)  
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Life: a Crock Pot Recipe

I want a crock pot recipe for life. One that tells me exactly what amount of time I need to devote, in what order, to which activities, in order to achieve the ideal balance of flavors to make life delicious.

A recipe would tell me how to get Nicholas on a schedule despite the EIGHTY minutes a day I spend in the car dropping off and picking up Alex from preschool.

A recipe would tell me how to squeeze in making dinner, washing dishes, sweeping floors, and folding laundry, and still be able to read to kids and get a little writing done—even if I do have a sore throat and am not feeling my best.

A recipe would tell me how to get the kids to cooperate with the plan, and not spend the whole time whining and screaming at me and asking where T. J. is, and then bursting into heartbroken sobs when I tell them I don’t know. A recipe would offer me equivalents when commitments multiply without warning in conjunction with babysitting evaporating.

Most importantly, a crock pot recipe would be EASY. Because crock pot recipes are, by definition, easy.

Except the one I decided to make today, of course. The one that required browning every ingredient before it went in the crock pot, putting together a sauce to pour over, and so on. Which is perhaps a lesson for a woman who wants an easy answer to life.

Published in: on October 6, 2009 at 12:33 pm  Comments (2)  
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Selfish=good?

Recently, I read a blogger whose point was that moms are not just moms, they’re also people—and how sometimes, they need to be selfish.

I find these kinds of posts difficult. It’s true that a mother needs to be able to express herself as a woman—and more basic than that, as a person. The same is true of fathers. She talked about taking time for the things that used to make your heart beat faster…a statement in which I recognized myself.

But I have to resist this point of view—because I know how easy it is to overbalance in the other direction—the selfish direction. The last two weeks, I have been gnashing my teeth over a lack of writing time. The paradigm is shifting in the house; Alex has finally graduated from nap taking, and Nicholas can’t get on a nap schedule because we’re having to run all over town to visit doctors and pick up Alex, and he’s always catnapping in the car.

At times like these, I question whether I’m really supposed to be writing at all. And yet I keep coming to the same conclusion: that writing makes me a better person. First, because I’m writing devotionals, which allow me to reflect on Scripture and God…something I probably wouldn’t make time for otherwise (ashamed though I am to admit it). But even working on my novel gives me spiritual exercise. It was writing my protagonist and hearing how she came across to other people that brought up the question of balance and selfishness in the first place.

And so I continue to carve out time to write. Someday I’ll reach the point where all my kids can dress themselves and open their own toothpaste tubes, when they are gone to school all day and when they’re home they don’t want me around, and then I’m sure I’ll be wistful (though not really wanting to run time backward) for the days when they were little and chewy. In the meantime, I just have to be very productive between 5:30 and 6 a.m.!

Published in: on October 5, 2009 at 5:53 am  Comments (6)  
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