Do you know what happens when you say yes?
You wake up scared the next day. I know this is silly. Everything is great. All will be fine. Except that I have a zit on the side of my nose.
Isn't that the way it goes? There is no good-beyond-belief news without a little freak-out fear mixed in.
What am I afraid of? Oh, I don't know. Maybe the possibility that I will suddenly discover that I have forgotten how to sentence a put together. (See? It's happening!!!)
I also know (because I've been there myself) that there is no hearing about another person's good fortune without a tinge of "But what about me?" This is especially true when you are working as hard and as truly as your heart will stand, and you still haven't gotten to where you want to go. Yet.
So, the Zit on My Nose would like to say to you (and me):
Don't lie to yourself. You do want it. And I promise you that when you do get it, you will want more. When you get that, you will be scared. Deal with it. Deal with it however you need to, but do not wimp out and lie to yourself. About wanting it or being scared. Because the Zit always knows.
It is possible to write with a talking zit on the side of your nose, isn't it?
Isn't it???
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By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 3/4/2008
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: books about writing, Believe, fear, fear, Believe, books about writing, Add a tag
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 3/4/2008
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Believe, Writing, Believe, Add a tag
Do you remember, two months ago, when I wrote this:
Jan. 1, 2008
As for me, I hereby pronounce 2008 to be
The Year of Once (Upon a Time)
This year, I want to believe in the magic of words on paper. I want to believe in love that transforms, and art that heals. I want to believe in journeys that change you, in spells that are broken, and in rough stones (even me) that become gems.
I also wrote:
This year, before saying "yes" to something that beckons to me, I'll say: "Is it part of the story I want my life to tell?"
Last Friday, I said yes to something that I very much want to be part of my life story. Cheryl Klein---yes, that Cheryl, of Arthur A. Levine Books, and of the brilliant and funny blog, Brooklyn Arden---asked me if I would work with her on my next two books.
It was the easiest yes I've ever said.
Many, many hugs to my agent, Tina Wexler, for putting us together.
I'll admit, there were several days when I forgot that I had vowed, in that same Jan. 1 post, to do this:
This year, each day, every day, I'll begin with: "Once upon a time, there was a girl who believed..."The universe must have forgiven me for my lapses. But then, it's larger than I am. Reading, writing, and believing are all larger than I am. For which I am grateful.
P.S. Here's the official announcement from the Publishers Marketplace newsletter:
CHILDREN'S: MIDDLE GRADE
Author of LETTERS FROM RAPUNZEL, Sara Lewis Holmes' NEW RECRUIT, the story of two cousins living on an Air Force base, the dynamic sixth grade teacher who introduces them to improv, and the community that rallies around them when one of their own goes missing in Afghanistan, to Cheryl Klein at Arthur A. Levine Books/Scholastic, in a two-book deal, by Tina Wexler at ICM (NA).
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 2/26/2008
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Believe, Blogging, Writing, inspiration, Believe, Potato Chips and Coffee, Potato Chips and Coffee, Add a tag
Remember when I woke up thinking I don't need you to be me?
Today, I woke up thinking potato chips don't go with coffee.
Then I thought (of course):
People warned me this would happen. That I'd start to see my life like a blogging Hamlet. Too much navel gazing. Too much pondering the meaning of every little thing. (Not that slings and arrows are trivial, Hamlet---I don't mean to make fun of your distress. But after watching Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, my opinion of you hasn't been the same.)
One thing blogging has taught me is trust. I don't obsess over whether or not I'll have something "blog-worthy" each day. I simply wake up and write. I show up; the words show up---just like those writer books that preach Butt-in-Chair Time said they would.
My poetry writing has taught me trust, too. Take that line Potato chips don't go with coffee. It may be a ridiculous thought to wake up thinking, but it would be a surprising start to a poem.
Potato chips don't go with coffee
My alarm alarmed me with those words.
I told you
and you said
Led Zeppelin doesn't go with mashed potatoes
and I said
that's not the same thing!
And you said
you're alarming me, my sweet, raw potato.
You see? That may not be the most amazing poem I've ever written, but I like it.
Tell me about a time that you didn't reject the first thought that came to you. Tell me about when you followed a silly idea. Tell me why potato chips go with coffee.
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By: Thomas Kingsley Troupe,
on 1/16/2008
Blog: Tappity Tappity (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Short Bus Journal, rejection, believe, Short Bus Journal, writing, rejection, believe, Add a tag
Like a lot of things in my frantic world, this is long overdue.
I got a rejection card from Houghton Mifflin, oh...a month or so ago, but I just didn't have the heart to talk about it. And it's not because I had all my last hopes for THE SHORT BUS JOURNAL riding on their thumbs up or thumbs down. It was more like...the official end of the line for my little book that could(n't).
*sigh*
But here's the cool thing: The rejection was a decent one. I know it's poor form to post stuff about your rejections, but dang it, I thought this one was pretty friggin' sweet as far as big company publishing rejections go. See for yourself.
If you click it, it'll get all big like.- First of all, they plugged the name of my book at the very top of the card. Nice!
- Second, the went so far as to call me Dear Mr. Troupe. (For a minute I thought the card was for my dad, then I remembered he doesn't live at my house, so I knew it was for me. Also, he doesn't write books about kids who have no disabilities but are forced to ride the short bus with kids who do. Wait a second...he doesn't write any books.)
- Third, they underlined 'Thank you' on the first line. I thought it was a decent touch. Hey, I'm easy like Sunday morning.
- Fourth, they underlined the word 'sorry.' You know what? I believe them.
- Fifth, they mention that because they get so many manuscripts, they can't offer individual comment on people's work. That's understandable. Remember this when we get toward the bottom here, okay? Thank you.
- Sixth, they underlined 'every success' as in they wish I had some when it comes to finding a home for my book. Also, they added an '!' at the end of the sentence where they hope my material can find a good home!
- Seventh...they left an individual comment!
Not quite right for Houghton at this time, but you give Mitch a great, authentic voice. Best of luck with his story!
(I should mention they underlined the word 'best' up there.)
So, considering this is probably the last rejection I'll get for THE SHORT BUS JOURNAL, I sort of feel good about it. I'm being honest and not being snarky or crappy about the whole thing. It made me feel that I'm sorta CLOSE, you know? Maybe that's being waaaay too much of an optimist, but in an industry that doles out rejection after rejection and has a tendency to crush your spirit, this 'rejection' didn't.
This one made me believe.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 1/2/2008
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: New Year's Theme, Resolutions, Believe, Add a tag
Last week, a Target cashier asked me how many days were in December.
"31, I think," I replied.
"Oh, good," she said. "I have four more days to eat chocolate. And drink soda. And eat fast food."
I smiled at her and wished her luck. I tried, sincerely, not to be cynical. I imagined her sleek and svelte and completely fast-food, chocolate, and soda free for all of 2008.
And then, less than a week later, here I am, doubting her. Blogging about her. Holding her up as Every Woman Who Will Fail. Mean, right? (And totally against my blog rules.)
And yet, this is exactly what we do to ourselves. We say that we believe in ourselves. We say we are listening to our dreams. We say that we will never give up. But sooner or later, we're going to be dissing ourselves and our good intentions. We're going to blame our disintegration on "not enough willpower" or "being unrealistic" or "life had other ideas."
So, for every resolution you make, consider this: do you have a plan for failure? What will you do on the day you fail to get up and write 500 words at 4:30 in the morning? What will you do on the afternoon that you eat a whole bag of Oreo cookies? What will you do when two weeks go by and you haven't been to the gym, not even to drive by it?
May I suggest that you make the answer something fun? Failure doesn't have to be miserable. On the day you realize that you haven't walked a mile for several days, give yourself a foot massage. On the morning you sleep in and don't write your word goal for the day, read a poem to yourself. On the day you eat the Oreo cookies, allow yourself to daydream for fifteen minutes. (At least make use of that sugar rush!)
You can even have a Failure Jar. Put in it several slips of paper with failure plans on them. Draw one out as needed. Celebrate. Rejoice. Because failure means that you're pushing hard enough for something else to push back. You've provoked a reaction. You've budged the universe one tiny little bit.
Whatever you plan to do when you fail, think of the cashier at Target. What would you say to her? Be at least as kind to yourself as you would to her.
And now, I'm going to get nerdy and quote an online dictionary.
Resolve:
1. To make a firm decision about.
That's fourteen ways of looking at your Resolve for the New Year. (Isn't the music one cool?)
But I really like #11: " To render parts of (an image) visible and distinct." I can't be something that I'm not. But I can be more of what I am. And everyone, absolutely everyone, can fail with more distinction.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 1/1/2008
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: New Year's Theme, Believe, Add a tag
New Year's resolutions? Old school. This year, everyone has a theme.
Laura Salas has declared it the Year of Losing Control. Robin Brande says it's the Year of Independent Thinking. Donna Koppleman decrees it to be the Year of Uncommon Effort.
As for me, I hereby pronounce 2008 to be
This year, before saying "no" to something I'm afraid of, I'll say: "Once. I'll try it once."
This year, before saying "yes" to something that beckons to me, I'll say: "Is it part of the story I want my life to tell?"
This year, each day, every day, I'll begin with: "Once upon a time, there was a girl who believed..."
What would you do if it were "once upon a time" every day?
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 12/12/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: gifts for writers, Believe, Add a tag
My daughter made it for me, when she was about eleven. It's a square of cloth, which she tied with a ribbon. Look what's inside:
"whenever you get stuck writing, you can reach into the Idea Bag and pull out something."
OK, now, beyond the fact that this is a wonderful, hand-made gift, I was bowled over by how she took my writing seriously. She knew what I did besides be her mom, and she gave me a fun, practical way to do my job better. How great is that?
Here's a list of what's in the Idea Bag. I'm not certain which of these things were in the original bag, because I've added to mine over the years. (Which is another great thing about this gift!)
a small red block
a sparkly butterfly hairclip
a pink jack
a sliver of green quartz
a psychedelic marble
a ribbon rose off a sweater
a flattened penny
a tiny figure of an astronaut with an American flag
a clay pretzel
a key
a shiny penny
a screw
a black bicycle
a rock with a cross painted on it
a pink foam hair roller
a ceramic owl
a dragonfly, made of twisted wire and rock
a black clay kitten
a pair of red plastic shoes
a multi-colored friendship bracelet
a translucent, ear-shaped rock
a button
a folded note on yellow, lined paper
a jade stone with the word MERCY on it
a handmade necklace with a hand-painted sun
a fat, red and white die (now showing the number 3)
Do you need an Idea Bag? I'm thinking that on those days when the Big Things are overwhelming, a few small things could help... Read the rest of this post
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 12/11/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Believe, Big Questions, one thing leads to another, Add a tag
Yesterday, I had my toenails painted by a former Tibetan monk. And he told me the secret to a less stressful life.
That sounds like a zippy opening for a chick-lit novel, doesn't it? But it is, in fact, what happened to me yesterday afternoon. The funniest thing is that I'm still marveling at how my life can surprise me. I somehow had the idea that I knew where the surprises in my life would come from---and isn't that the dumbest thing you've ever heard? They wouldn't be surprises if I knew which corner of the sky to look for them in. They wouldn't be unexpected if I could anticipate the moment they would happen. And yet, I'd grown comfortable with my "surprises" happening on days like Christmas, when I finally open the gifts I have carefully been avoiding knowing too much about. Or surprise! I won the snowflake I had been actively bidding on in the Robert's Snow auction. Surprise me! I might say to the sushi chef, knowing full well that he would put delectable, fresh sashimi on my plate.
So, I deserved what I got when I took my toes into that salon. I deserved the slightly confused, weird feeling I got when a man instead of a woman walked out to say he'd be giving me my pedicure. I deserved the first fifteen minutes of watching him, tensely and critically, to see if he could handle the delicate job of smoothing my exercise-roughened feet. It wasn't until I mentioned that I did yoga that who he was emerged.
He told me that he did yoga, too. That he had studied metaphysics as a Tibetan monk for eighteen years. That he had come to the US to be part of a Buddhist community that had since moved. That he had had several other jobs, including caring for Alzheimer patients and preparing sushi for Whole Foods. He told me, when I asked, that the traditional Tibetan diet doesn't include small animals, like chicken or fish, because each animal's life is considered equal to every other, so it's more ethical to kill one large animal, like a yak, which can feed an entire village.
He also shared with me a quick tip for stress relief: Ten Breaths. No special breath, he warned. That's too tiring. And don't think that more than ten is better...more is just intimidating, and you won't do it. Just STOP what you are doing, count ten of your normal breaths, and then resume your life. Repeat, if you need to. He said it was like rebooting your computer, running one program to quiet all the other ones that had become locked up.
This guy wasn't a guru. He did kind of ramble. I wondered why he had left the Buddhist community. But I can tell you that he surprised me. Every time I look at my freshly painted toenails, I think:
Ten toes.
Ten breaths.
Can it really be that simple?
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 12/10/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Art, drawing, Believe, training for writers, Add a tag
What's the point of writing about something that's been written about a thousand times? (I'm talking fiction here.)
This is why:
Because no two people stand at the same place in the circle.
Because what you choose to see is important.
Because I only get to live one life. If I can read what you write about, I get to cheat a little.
Go here to see how students in the Drawing Club interpret a 5-10 minute pose of "The Boxer."
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/21/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Gratitude, Believe, Thanksgiving, Add a tag
HipWriterMama has a whole meal planned for you. Not only did she write an incredibly thoughtful post herself, but she's also linked to a buffet of riches from other bloggers. Go on, you're invited...
The only thing I could add to her menu is an article from the Washington Post. (You'll have to do a quick registration to view it, but in my humble opinion, the Post has so many great online resources that it's worth it, as I blogged about here.) The article is titled "Give Thanks. It's Good For You." I think the "Grade Yourself on Gratitude" quiz that accompanies the article is a bit obvious, like if you pick "I don't think I've gotten all the good things that I deserve in life" don't you know that you're gonna take a hit in the gratitude rankings?
But the part of the article that I found most interesting was this: "The greater your appreciation for beauty, the greater your gratitude." I know this is true for me, that the days I'm in tune with the immense, almost soul-searing beauty of the world, I'm the most grateful for the chance to be a part of it.
This is why I think it's so important for kids to have art, and books, and walks in the woods. Beauty has a way of both healing wounds and inspiring more beauty. Beauty isn't a pretty face; it's the recognition that we are made to respond to life with thanksgiving.
I just decorated my apple pie for tomorrow with tiny pastry stars. It's a trick I learned from my daughter. It looks beautiful, and I plan to be grateful for every bite.
***See you in a few days. I'm taking a mini blog break. Happy Thanksgiving!
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/20/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Gratitude, Believe, Thanksgiving, Add a tag
Liz in Ink has declared that Thanksgiving will last all week. And Jama Rattigan has posted a lovely quote on gratitude as the Thought for the Week. I'm with them! There's too much to be grateful for to confine it to just one day, as Liz says so well here and here.
Also, as I told Liz, I love the "To be continued" at the end of each of her Thanksgiving posts. That makes me happy, not just because I anticipate reading more of her lovely lists as the Week of Thanksgiving proceeds, but because "to be continued" are words of gratitude themselves. It's hard to be stingy and grumpy when we think of our lists as being added to each day.
What are you grateful for today that you didn't notice yesterday? What will you be grateful for tomorrow? I know I'll be putting "to be continued" at the end of all my lists from now on.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/19/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Art, Maira Kalman, Believe, The Elements of Style Illustrated, Add a tag
So I vote for a new question: What art do you like to look at when you write? (Or I guess that would actually be before you write or during breaks in your writing or while you're pacing up and down, wolfing a chocolate muffin, and thinking of what to write?)
Here's my answer to that question:
but what I really want is for Maira Kalman to sell her illustrations for it in poster sizes:
I don't know why, but I think looking at that on my wall
would make me a better writer.
Or go look at the dizzying array of talent at the Robert's Snow auction, which begins today. I apologize in advance if I outbid you. I need my art, remember?
P.S. Have you seen The Elements of Style movie?
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/14/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: theater, Believe, improvisation, Square One, Add a tag
I'm so proud of all of you. Not a single person said "fried mermaid" yesterday.
As author Patricia Madson tells it, audiences at improv performances often shout out strange words in the belief that it's creative and helpful. But really, as she points out, once you've said, "fried mermaid," how much more creativity can you stomach? (Sorry, that's my bad pun, not hers.)
Instead, generous audience that you are, you gave me:
Poison ivy, treehouse
uncle, duck, chew
plow, stream, nut
gratitude, window, play
theater, aspiring, light
Each of them lovely words, each worthy of an entire post. My instinct is to use ALL the words, and to dazzle you with my depth and agility in linking them together. But as sure as I do that, someone will add more words, and I'll be back at square one. Which, I suppose, isn't a bad place to be. It could even be the name of an improv troupe: "Square One...because we're always beginning."
I remember doing improv in Theater class in high school. The words my group received were: cactus, diamond and cowboy. (I think. It's been awhile.) We created a mini-Western, in which I, Polly Pricklebutt, the cactus heroine in distress, was rescued by cowboys who rode bucking black diamonds. There was a logic to it all, and snappy dialogue, and we got great laughs.
What I remember most, though, was the astounding fun of making something out of nothing. To say to the audience: I'm a cactus named Polly...and have everyone believe me! No one batted an eye at cowboys lassoing diamonds and then mounting and riding them. I wanted to live in that world forever.
But I don't. I live in a world where trees that cradle the most intriguing treehouses sometimes have poison ivy curled around their trunks. How to get up there?
Should I cry "uncle" and duck quickly out the back, so no one notices that I tried and failed? Or should I chew up the scenery, crying and wailing, and acting my little heart out, oh, woe! oh, woe is me! until someone comes to help?
I could plow up the neighbor's yard, plant a magic nut, divert a stream to water it, and watch over it day and night, waiting for a different tree, a less difficult tree, to grow. Then I could climb it and lightly step over into that treehouse, as cleverly as Jack in the old tales. I would wave out the window to those below, waiting for their applause.
But who would be there, watching still, after all those careful years? Theater happens in real time. This blog happens in nearly real time. If I post about improv or library cats or gratitude, Google sweeps it up, and carries my words out, where other readers find them, before I have time to even catch my breath. Those readers arrive, bearing gifts, more words. Sometimes, the author of the book you're reading even shows up. (Thanks for coming by, Patricia!)
I don't think there is such a thing as an aspiring writer on the Internet. We all just write and what we write becomes part of the day. What we write becomes part of each other. I honestly had no idea what I would make of your words when I began to write this post. Now I see where I was going:
I do live in a world of cacti, diamonds and cowboys. I also live in a world where there is poison ivy. And now, I'm going to speak up for that ivy, because I had it all wrong. The ivy wasn't a symbol of an impenetrable barrier; it was a metaphor for what spreads. Because I forgot that just because "poison" and "ivy" arrived together, they don't have to stay together. They can get up and find new seats. Poison, you go over there and be helpful, answering the phone at the Poison Control Hotline. Ivy, honey, I've got a job for you: think you can lift me up---up there?
Oh! look! I did use all the words---showy, showy me---and I'm right where I want to be, in the ivy-covered treehouse, with all my friends. Let's put up a sign and spread the word:
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 11/12/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: motivation, Believe, Poster maker, Add a tag
Thanks to Sam Riddleburger for the link to the AutoMotivator.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 10/19/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing, Believe, How to write a credo, I don't believe in", Credo, Add a tag
Credo
I don’t believe in making your bed,
Unless of course, company is coming
And only then, if you are sure
They will be coming upstairs.
I don’t believe in swallowing bugs, or criticism,
Except of course, if they are ants, or backhanded
Compliments, which can be nutritious,
As long as they don’t criticize
your teeth on the way down.
I don’t believe in any form of sugar
For breakfast, except Frosted Flakes eaten
Dry, and large blueberries that have been properly
Worshiped, with both your eyes,
For at least ten minutes.
I don’t believe in painting your fingernails
Any dark color that will chip
Before dinner, unless, of course, it is after
Dinner, the taco sauce has been put away and
Someone else, who you have invited upstairs to
View your unmade bed, is painting them
For you, and wearing a red kimono.
I don’t believe in sleeping with the lights on,
Even if you are terrified, because lights will attract
Robbers (or criticism) which you will then have to throw
Out of your unmade house (or swallow.)
I don’t believe in saying what you really think,
Unless it is to yourself, in the mirror, with both your
Eyes, and only then, if you have consumed no
Compliments for breakfast.
I don’t believe in packing for a trip,
Unless you fully intend to stay
Home, and even then, you should never pack
Slippers and you must always lie
When asked whether you left
The lights on.
I don’t believe in lying, either,
Except between the edges of one drawn breath and
The next, one rapid blink, one twisting of your scaled
Toe into the pile of the carpet and then you must
Stop and say what you really think.
I don’t believe in washing a shirt that has only been worn
Once, except of course, if you have leaned
Against the counter, which had taco sauce on it, or if
You were wearing it while your company
Packed your slippers.
I don’t believe in stirring up trouble,
Unless of course, it is 3:06 AM, and you notice scales
Forming–up to your kneecaps–and it’s too early to
Admire blueberries and you realize
The red kimono, which the robber
Wore, is missing.
I don’t believe in poetry, either,
Unless of course, you want to write some
In an unmade bed, with a pen between your
Burgundy fingernails (chipped)
Munching on Frosted Flakes,
In a taco sauce stained shirt, with all the lights
On, lying through your much-criticized
Teeth, just before you pack your suitcase
Full of what you really think.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
* Credo means "I believe." I wrote this poem after hearing several people toss off the phrase "I don't believe in..." and they weren't talking about theology. They were discussing topics like wearing synthetic socks or buying things not on sale or giving a child a binky. When I started riffing on the phrase, I wound up writing a poem not so much about particular beliefs or non-beliefs, but about how complicated our personal creeds are. How did we draw those lines we won't cross? What are our exceptions? If we had to explain ourselves, could we do it? For further inspiration, try a Google search on: "I don't believe in..." Some things that turned up: polls, the death penalty, failure, God, love, atheists, first grade, hell and walled gardens. You can also search on "how to write a credo."
Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Kelly Fineman
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 10/10/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Reading, Believe, Big Questions, Add a tag
When you're feeling bad, do you want a book that matches your black mood or one that, with its grace and lightness, might cheer you up? Do you prefer to escape into a book for several distracting hours or use it as a deliberate guide to the "whys" of it all?
Sometimes, I need beauty. Pure, unadulterated beauty, but usually, I go straight to nature for that. Or to the ice cream in the freezer. Sometimes, though, I need there to be a butt-ugly billboard that I can stare at. It simply says: Life Reeks. Or I need a dip into the blunt words of Ecclesiastes, which--no disrespect--could be that billboard, only thousands of years old: "Senseless! Everything is utterly senseless!"
In fact, I think my pattern might be: I want the visual, tactile, sensory experience of art, nature, and ice cream if I'm looking for the Beauty Cure, and I want the structure, intelligence and intimacy of text when I want the Blunt Truth Cure.
What about you?
BTW, this post has nothing to do with my writing life. I found out my niece has to go back for more cancer treatments after just sixteen weeks in the clear.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 9/8/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Madeleine L'Engle, Believe, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, Add a tag
"To be alive is to be vulnerable. To be born is to start the journey towards death. If taxes have not always been inevitable, death has. What, then, does life mean? No more than 'Out, brief candle'?
The artist struggles towards meaning. Mahler was terrified of death and worked out his fear in music. I had a letter from a college student at Harvard saying, 'I am afraid of nonbeing.' That same day, a friend with whom I was having lunch said, 'I cannot bear the thought of annihilation.'
Art is an affirmation of life, a rebuttal of death.
And here we blunder into paradox again, for during the creation of any form of art, art which affirms the value and the holiness of life, the artist must die.
To serve a work of art, great or small, is to die, to die to self.
The great artists, dying to self in their work, collaborate with their work, know it and are known by it as Adam knew Eve, and so share in the mighty act of Creation.
That is our calling, the calling of all of us..."
---Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 9/6/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: dancing, Believe, does it have a good beat and can you dance to it?, song meme, Add a tag
Have you seen the "top 100 songs for the year you graduated" meme that's going around? I was so relieved when Kelly didn't tag me. Oh yes, I had fun looking at her list, and I knew almost all of the songs. But the truth is, there was only one gut level check I had for each song:
---American Bandstand
From Kelly's year:
#51. Raspberry Beret, Prince (Just typing that makes me break out in a dance sweat.)
#38. Neutron Dance, Pointer Sisters (Come on, it has DANCE in the title!)
#43 Freeway of Love, Aretha Franklin (Even an idiot can groove to this one. Just imagine you're in that pink Cadillac and careen on down the dance floor.)
From my year:
#57. De Do Do Do, De Da Da, The Police (What can I say? The title IS a dance beat.)
#94. Whip It, Devo (I can feel my head starting to bang already)
#68. While You See A Chance, Steve Winwood (Imagine me doing an embarrassing interpretive dance. Or running. Or cranking out pushups. Hey! Bonus! The YouTube video has Muppet commentary at the end!)
So there you have it. I'm a dunce, musically. My whole family discusses bass lines, chord progressions, and the histories of individual musicians in various, ever-shifting band incarnations. Yesterday, my husband helped my son re-build his guitar so the strings wouldn't buzz against the neck. My daughter sang a Latin mass last year. Me? I jokingly tell people that I'm "the audience." I absolutely adore music, but I can't discuss it intelligently at all. The only way I can express what I think about a song is to move to it. Which might explain why I've always wanted to learn how to...
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 9/4/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Writing, drawing, goals, Believe, goal setting, Add a tag
I did it, people. I achieved my summer goals. And the funny thing is, I wouldn't even have known about it, if Franki at A Year of Reading hadn't blogged the question: So how did those Summer Goals go?
For those of you who missed my comment to that post, here's what I said:
Oh, my...you reminded me to go back and look at what I posted on my website as goals.
And I am SHOCKED. I actually did ALL of them. And this is me, who doesn't even bother to do New Year's Resolutions because I'm so sure I won't keep them. What happened? Was it the public nature of the posting? I'm thinking I may have to blog about this! And I'm thinking my new goals are going to be earn a million, travel to Bali, and have Lyle Lovett write a song to me.
(To Franki) I LOVED your self-check in. No waffling. Just NOPE where appropriate. I think it's important to acknowledge that sometimes we make goals for ourselves that just don't work.
As much as I want this post to be a funny riff on those imagined new goals---oh, please, Lyle...I'll even go motorcycle riding with you---I think I really should address that last sentence instead:
I read once that we should always be clear about what standards we're holding ourselves to. If we don't, those unwritten standards (goals) are likely to be things like:
1. Write the most awesome children's book that has ever existed in all of time.
2. Love my work every second of every day and never doubt myself or wonder if I should be healing the sick or teaching or baking coma-inducing cappuccino muffins.
3. Be fabulous at everything, including public speaking, self-promotion, time-management, and rainmaking, but remain humble, lovable and sane through it all.
On the other hand, if we use our creative powers to come up with goals that are attainable right from the get-go, they just might motivate us. Remember the drawing class I blogged about? Well, I often panicked in that class because I wasn't any good. Here's how my brain dealt with that: I SUCK! I'M THE WORST ARTIST ON THE PLANET! I SHOULD GIVE UP AND DIE RIGHT NOW! But then I remembered my goals in taking that class:
1. To learn something new (Yes, yes, I was doing that.)
2. To experience the terror of trying something I knew I was bad at, to learn to deal with fear (Yes, yes, totally succeeding at that.)
3. To gain insight into my writing. (Um, well, I was running to my journal after each class, so yes, yes to this one, too.)
4. To enjoy myself. (No, not right at this second. But I can fix that.)
You see, nowhere in those goals was: be a great artist. Be the best drawer in the class. Have my own gallery show after a month. That would have been ridiculous. Except that in my writing life, I do this to myself all the time. I set goals in my head that are not attainable right from the start.
So, how low can your bar go?
1. Think about writing a novel at least once a day.
2. Pick up my notebook and hold it.
3. Enjoy walking to the mailbox to see if there's good news in it.
You think I'm kidding, don't you? But I'm not. Every one of your goals should be attainable. At least one of them should contain the word ENJOY. And none of them should make you feel like a failure.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 9/2/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Books, Book launch, Robin Brande, Believe, Emma Thompson, The Library of Congress, Evolution Me and Other Freaks of Nature, libraries, Add a tag
Robin Brande just had a big book launch, and she wondered, as it approached, why she was feeling a bit numb. I assured her (with the infinite wisdom of my vast publishing experience) that she would have many moments, not just The One on The Day.
One of those "many moments" for me was discovering that the Library of Congress had a copy of my book. Well, of course it does; they're required to own copies of every copyrighted piece of material in the U.S. But the fun thing is that because of where I live, if you put my zip code and the title of my book into WorldCat's search box, the Library of Congress shows up first!
And guess what else is cool? The Library of Congress has a blog. Well, maybe they're required to do that, too, but I doubt it. And look at what their college interns got to do over the summer---rummage around in the archives. The English majors---gotta love 'em!--- dug into the manuscript collection, and found:
"a 1902 copyright deposit manuscript for a musical titled 'An Extra Session: A Chimerical Satire on the Feasible Possibilities Which Woman May Attain a Hundred Years Hence.' Written by William D. Hall, the musical is set in the White House in the year 2002, with a woman president and her all-female cabinet."
Haven't read it. Can't review it. I just might, though, go see a performance of it if Emma Thompson were playing the Secretary of Defense.
By the way, how does a "chimerical" satire differ from a regular kick-ass one? Is that anything like how a celebrity book* is not, and never will be, the same species as a real one**?
*disclaimer: link does not, in fact, take you to Madonna's book (not in a hundred billion years)
**link will, in fact, take you to Robin's future best-seller: Evolution, Me, and Other Freaks of Nature
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 7/19/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: painting, Artist of the Week, Believe, mottled faces, how can one live?, Lucian Freud, Add a tag
If you've never seen it, go gaze at this gorgeous painting by Lucian Freud.
Or look at this mottled face. How beautiful to see skin as it really is, and not a sanitized CoverGirl tone. Why do we insist upon improving upon nature’s work? Why do we deem the non-uniform ugly? What’s wrong with a face that is green and blue and black? Red, orange, yellow? What’s wrong with veins and bumps and wrinkles, when they are drawn so exquisitely?
When I first saw these paintings in the pages of a heavy, unadorned art book, it was as if Lucian Freud had spoken a pressing truth, one that I'd never dared tell, and when he did, the relief was so intense, I wanted to cry.
I especially liked the portraits he did of models’ faces on a simple pillow or bed. There is a sense of fascination, as if you were looking at a newborn child or a lover asleep. Only he looks at everyone that way. Many of his full-size paintings, which I can't link to here, are so brutally observant that they are painful.
I wonder how he treats his models, the people in his life that he paints. Is he kind to them, or as bruisingly loving as his portrayals? Does he have to shield himself from their beauty in real life so he isn’t overwhelmed? How does he maintain his true sight? How can one live, seeing this intensely?
Tomorrow, I'll post a poem I wrote in response to Lucian Freud's paintings. Until then, look at them, read this, and tell me if he is blessed or cursed.
By: Sara Lewis Holmes,
on 7/18/2007
Blog: Read Write Believe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: KidLit Bloggers, E.B. White, MCEC, Changing the World, Plan International, The Very Big Good Deed List., Beyond 4 Walls, Believe, Add a tag
Yesterday was about Having a Good Time. Today is about Changing the World. (See quote from E.B. White above, or if you're reading this in a feed and can't glance up, here.)
What are the book/literacy/youth-related causes you support? I'd like to know.
Here are a few of mine:
Military Child Education Coalition
Plan International
Beyond 4 Walls Book Drive
I'm also interested in the following projects, but haven't acted upon them yet:
The Campaign for Drawing (sponsors The Big Draw and other projects)
Open Books (a literacy bookstore not yet operational)
KinderHarvest (rescues and recycles children's magazines to donate to families)
I'd like to compile a list of all the projects KidLit Bloggers (and readers) support. (Or is there one already? Someone tell me!) I would call it:
The Very Big, No-Kidding, We're Changing the World, You Bet! Good Deed List.
Have you tried Windex? Congrats. Truly. I'd like to suggest a celebration in your honor. Perhaps a cyber cocktail party. WE can all meet online at a particular time and offer our congratulations, best wishes, and so happy for yous. Don't forget the windex. You want to look great on such a day.
I understand about saying "Yes" as I am constantly choking in the tenth frame. Success can be scary, but you deserve it. Embrace it!
Think of what you would want for your own kids. You would want them to realize their own potential and enjoy their success. Follow your heart!
First, and most important, WOO HOO to you.
Second, new things are always a little scary, but it's good when the scary reminds us to sit up and think a little. My fear of power tools is extremely functional in this regard. When I turn on a power tool, I am sure as anything PAYING ATTENTION to what is going on.
I totally get this. Zit, be damned. Sometimes I have to just close my eyes, so to speak, and move forward and I don't freak out so much (on a literal level, I once climbed a 55-foot vertical obstacle course at Maryville College called The Alpine Tower -- well, I've done it several times, but this particular time, I was blindfolded and tethered to Eisha's husband, also my friend. I found that it was easier to climb while blindfolded. My mind didn't trick me out with fear -- none of this "I can't possibly make that hold five feet above me!" I just trusted my gut and felt my way around, listening to encouragement from a friend. Tell your zit to do that!).
Jules, 7-Imp, whose analogy may possible make NO sense whatsoever
Jules - maybe there is an actual link between vertigo and fear of success...
I've tagged you for a fun meme on my blog, if you're interested. :)
It is possible to write with a talking zit on the side of your nose, isn't it?
Sure it is. Ask Richard E. Grant in How To Get Ahead in Advertising.
Old New Age sounding expression I sometimes think when I don't ant to admit how scared I am: Embrace the fear to erase the fear.
Cornball, that's me.
Donna, but then I'd SMELL like Windex. Wouldn't I?
Amy, I love your attitude. And didn't I hear that you kick butt at bowling, too?
Adrienne, whenever I'm afraid, I'm going to think of you with a power tool. In a dress. With your cute purse.
Wow, Jules! That climb! Honestly, it sounds like fun, in a strange, liberating way.
David, I never typed you as a cornball, but I'll try hugging fear, just for you. As long as you swear it won't hug back.
Erin, I'm thinking on your challenge. Fun!
It is fun, Sara. The view is gorgeous when you're done. Here's a pic of it I found online: http://www.maryvillecollege.edu/news/news.asp?id=815&pgID=849. And this -- http://www.dioceseofknoxville.org/etc/june20/STA%20group-tower.jpg. There are seven ways (I think it's seven) to climb it, multiple "faces" to it.
You know, I don't know if that's required for freshman now. When Eisha and I were students, there was a Mountain Challenge course (rock-climbing, boleting (sp?), all kinds of other challenges in the college woods, etc.), and the Tower might be required now. Anyway, when I was a student, I rolled my eyes at how they tried to make us take those challenges and apply them to life (I actually had to write a paper once, entitled "how is tying a knot like life?"), but with that scattered-smothered-and-covered-blindfolded-and-tethered climb, as Brian and I jokingly called it, I really DID learn about how it's easier to climb when not being able to see, not letting your mind trick you out. It actually did teach me a lot about myself, blast it (which brings me back full-circle to your post, which is why I started rambling about this).
Hope things have, y'know, cleared up by now :) Listen, I posted about this post today. Kinda sorta. Hope that's okay...