My Payoff

This is the post where I am supposed to describe the payoff I get for staying blocked.

You know I'm not sure what my payoff is, but I feel like there's one there, lurking under the surface of me. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I know there's some sick warm dirty little pleasure I get from not getting on with my art. I'm going to make a list of my suspects and see who I looks right when I check out the line up at the end.

1. There's no pay cheque.
2. There's not necessarily anyone who will stand around and admire me.
3. I get impatient with myself because of the learning curve and think 'why bother?'
4. I can get the same thing cheaper at the mall.
5. I can get the same thing with a lot less work at the mall.
6. I feel like there's no money to pursue it.
7. I like doing nothing around the house.
8. I want to be the poor-little-girl-who-never-had-anyone-help-her-in-her-whole-miserable-life?
9. I don't think that my efforts are as good as other people's.
10. I like to smother other people's dreams by discouraging them when I've got nothing on the go.

Okay, there's ten. I think the winners are 8, 9, and 10, but I think the biggest one is number 9. I really think this sometimes and then I feel sorry for myself. I love to feel sorry for myself. I love to sit around and have the most elaborate pity party where I'm the party girl in a faded skirt and a limp party hat.

Why am I like this?

Really. I always had so much confidence when it came to dating. I was always this golden girl who was bestowed with magical powers to attract the guys. I always thought that any guy who was on a date with me was practically floating in a cloud above me. Why was I so self assured when it came to that and so wimpy when it comes to my art?

It's because I think I'm stupid with poor fine motor skills. I think my writing must be stupid. If I sent it in to a publishing company - they'd read it and giggle, "And she thinks even a preteen would be interested in this? What a joke!" And I do have poor fine motor skills compared to other artists. My art is very symmetrical and geometric. It's not fine art. It's a story that I want to tell with a picture instead of a novel. But it's not finely detailed - it's chunky. And anyone looking at it can see the chunks.

I just finished a painting yesterday and I put it up on the piano. This places it next to a painting my mother did when she was 17. CHUNKY! Hers is delicate and precise and mine is CHUNKY! I'm trying not to be discouraged, even though 17 is a speck on my horizon. Yeah - awhile ago.

I think I just like comparing myself to others and feeling sorry for myself.

Check-in Weeks Three and Four

I did my morning pages six days out of seven. The reason I didn't get my pages done the one day was because I had like thirteen people visiting and I had to get up and make pancakes for everyone. Actually, I find three pages a little much. I usually just want to write two. By the time I've written two pages, I'm concentrated and really ready for the day, but I have to keep writing that third page. Yet, I usually get my second wind for it on about the second paragraph and then I learn something new about myself because I start talking about something weird.

I did two artist dates this week. One was rather forced. I was stuck at a water park watching my baby sleep. Well, I wasn't allowed to read this week, so I was forced to watch all the people who came to the water park. I have come to realize that everyone over the age of 18 has a tattoo and absolutely none of them look good in a bathing suit. Really. Why does anyone want to dress immodestly when they look like that? Did they even look in the mirror before they went out in public? Or think before they got their body permanently branded? Tasteless tattoos. Horribly tasteless tattoos.

I also went to China town and had bubble tea. Not really with tea in it - just a slushy with the bubbles in the bottom. Those don't last like regular slurpees.

I did have things fall together nicely. I already believed in prayers being answered or things I need being given to me in just the way they needed to in order for something to happen. In this case, it had to do with the water park. Normally, taking that many people to that place would cost $475.00, but I was telling one of my friends what I was planning to do and she told me about this group rate you can get if you're taking that many people and order your tix a few days in advance. She saved me $200.

Any other issues? Proudly enough - most of the things discussed in the program are things I already knew. I have already addressed my family issues, so I really brushed by chapter 3. Then in chapter 4 they talk about not reading in order to open yourself up to sensory experiences, which is something I knew as well. If you're always cramming your brain full of someone else's thoughts then how can you possibly think for yourself? So, things are going swimmingly and I'm not having any tantrums or angry outbursts like they describe artists having. Actually, I'm excited to see if there are any concepts I don't know.

The Season I Like Best

This post is supposed to talk about the season I like best. I like autumn. Why? I think it's because a day is like a year is like a life. Spring is for birth, childhood, youth and probably ends with marriage. It's probably got something to do with June. How June is the month for brides. It's full of wonder and possibility. Decisions for the rest of your life have been made though not lived. That's what summer is for. That's when we fuss and fume and push ourselves into overdrive birthing children and raising them up like grain. In Autumn, we finish up the harvest and marry our children off and do anything left that we want to do before it starts to snow. Winter - poor health and eventually death.

Besides, I said a life was like a day and don't we always feel best after we've done all our work and are allowed to rest?

I would also like to point out as an end note that no matter what happens - I'm always a little bit of a goth underneath it all.

My Ideal Environment

This assignment encourages magazine clipping in order to discover our perfect environment. Luckily, I didn't have to go to the library and photocopy crusty old pics for this - I could just look online. Here's my imagination gone wild.

For this picture I did a search for tiling. The black and white tiling are what I admire the most. I also quite like the pure white feathers in steel vases in the back. If I were decorating my own room those are the two things I would steal from this room. The rest of the furniture is fine, don't get me wrong - oh, except for that hideous picture of a watch on the wall. Why would anyone do that?





This next picture is mostly for the bookshelves, though I like the rest of the room a lot. The curtains in particular are especially lovely.















Am I such a weirdo that I want an indoor fountain in my living room. This is the one I would choose considering I'm living in a fantasy right now.

















My next wish would be this tree bed which I found for sale on an actual shopping page. It costs $15,000.00. Makes you want to get into making fancy beds and raking it in, doesn't it?















Lastly, I'd like a tub. But I didn't drive myself crazy searching for the most ridiculously beautiful tub I could find. I just went for something that was white and looked comfortable. you don't even have to turn off the water with your foot because OOPS! It's within reaching distance. You also don't have to stick your head under the facet or wash your hair with gross water because OOPS! It has a removable shower nozzle. I love this tub.

Time Travelling

In this post I am supposed to describe myself as an eighty year-old then I am supposed to write a letter to myself from that perspective.

Me as an Eighty Year Old

I sort of expect that my husband will be dead by then. That probably seems dark, but my grandmothers and mother all outlived their men, so I'm only assuming. So, I'll probably be a widow. Let's also suppose that I don't have a major blowout myself and die, which I'm starting to believe is highly probable.

At the end of my life (before I get scuttled off to a nursing home) I imagine that I'll be living in a small town in Southern Alberta. I can't imagine doing a lot of family history work like my grandmothers (because they did it all), but I can imagine going to the temple often. Once I am retired and tired, I'd like to go to the temple every morning from Tuesday to Friday. I'd think of it as going to school. Then in the afternoon, I'd go home to my cozy little house with my little yard and potter around (I started weeding my yard for one of my artist dates and I think I'm in love) and eat a cucumber sandwich before taking a nap on my back porch and then painting or writing or crocheting or embroidering the rest of the afternoon. For supper, I'd make food for guests. I'd always have guests. If I couldn't have my family (and I'd definitely be a great-grandma by then) then I'd have the neighbours. Everyone would love coming because by then I'd be a really fantastic chef. And when they'd come to visit, they'd walk around my house and love every bit of it because all my paintings would be up on the walls. My grand kids would say, "Hey Grandma? Can I have this when you die?" And I'd say, "You can have it right now." And I'd have room on my wall for another picture. I'd still have long hair then too, and when my grand kids woke me up in the night, they'd see my braid going down my back. And if my hair didn't turn out to be a very pretty gray colour than I'd dye it silver/white. I'd be kind of chubby too because I'd make such great food. And when I went to church on Sunday, I wouldn't be shy and everyone in the ward would know me. I'd help out all the time. And I'd still love my husband. I'd love him forever.

Now for my letter to myself.

Dear Sapphirefly,

You and I both know you went by that name in your twenties.

Listen up kid! Life seems like it's rocketing past for you at light speed, but that speed won't last forever. You are going to have hours and hours stretching out before you instead of having to cram the things you really want to do into ten minute intervals. Enjoy the pleasures of the time you are in right now, because when you're my age you are going to be alone most of the time. That doesn't mean that your family doesn't love you, but they are going to be on their own rockets and it might be hard for them to get away. You need to cultivate your talents for sociability so that you can make friends where ever you are. That way you can be alone when you want to be and with your friends when you can't stand the sound of your own voice. Trust me. That time will come.

But you know even though you are supposed to enjoy the time you're in, that doesn't mean that you shouldn't pursue the things you're interested in. If you don't have anything in your life other than your precious children, things are going to get awfully boring later on.

As for your writing - that's not the most important thing in your world. I think you know that where you're at now. When you write a story, it's because there's something you want to say, but obviously not everyone wants to hear you talk. If you write books, even if you make a million dollars there's no guarantee that your grand children will like them anymore than your mother likes your books now. When you write - it's for the audience at large and not your personal family. So don't expect that to be the heritage that you leave when you die. When you die - there will be family mourners - not fans. But don't let that bother you. The people there will be the ones that actually ate your pumpkin pie instead of those who just read about it. Besides, the rush you get when a fan writes you a hysterical letter isn't as precious as your baby girl telling you she loves you. But go ahead - write - but like anything that you make in this world - don't expect it to last forever. Nothing lasts forever except the love you share with the people around you.

Now go to sleep sweet little girl. You've got a lot of work to do if you want to catch up to me. And anyway, I have to go clean the house since you're coming to live here with me.

I love you.

S.

Five Great Things About Baby Me

This post is exactly what it sounds like. I get to list five things that I liked about myself as a child, or moments where I loved myself best.

1. I am a narcissist. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. There is no law or reason behind it. No one needs to be chipping compliments at my heels for me to feel this way. It also has nothing to do with my performance in different areas of my life. It didn't matter if I was picked last for sports (and I usually was), or if I couldn't find a partner for a class project, or if I got crappy grades, or if all the boys thought another girl was prettier - I just always felt that I was amazing.

I remember when I was in grade one, a little boy who was richer, smarter and more athletic than I was came up to me and said, "You're weird." Then he walked away and the only thing I thought was, "He noticed how special I am." Actually, now that I remember it, I think he was jealous of my confidence. Even though he had all that stuff going for him - I think losing mattered a lot more to him. I don't need to win every time to be amazing.

2. Storytelling. You know, I have always wanted to tell stories. When I was a kid, I used to love making up scenarios for make-believe play.

Particularly, I wrote a story when I was in grade two that really impressed my teacher. When I had half of it done, she read it (checking for errors) and I could tell by her face that she was blown away by how good it was. I botched the ending and she wasn't terribly impressed after that, but the reality was that I needed to learn how to end something. I'm good at cooking up scenarios. The key is to figure out what adventure you would like to have and then write it.

3. Unspoilt. When I was a kid, I didn't feel dragged down by depression. I think my depression set in when I was about nine, but before that I was so happy. I was happy just by little things.

I was happy when my mom made the snack for my birthday when I was in kindergarten. She made lime jell-o. I was happy when my dad bought me a slurpee on our way home from town. I was happy when I had a dime to spend one penny candies at the store. I was happy when my brother played cards with me.

After I was nine it was almost like I was ashamed to be pleased by such small things when there were such big things wrong in my life.

4. Riding Bikes. This has probably been ruined for me forever by my injured tailbone, but when I was a kid, I loved riding my bike to school. I had a bike with red sparkles and a banana seat, so it was easy to stick another kid behind me. Actually, I had completely forgotten how happy it made me.

5. Irresponsibility. Yeah, like most children, I totally took it for granted that I didn't have to do anything. I love how carefree I used to feel back then. Now, I am so stressed all the time. I keep trying to tell myself that even though I have a lot to do and a lot to worry about that I don't have to worry. If I don't make it to such-and-such appointment, the world will not collapse. I always fear that people will think I'm irresponsible or flighty and the feeling seems to stop me from feeling happy.

I used to feel the freest when I was walking home from school. Usually, there was nothing that I had to do - no where I had to be. I don't remember being bogged down by homework much and just that feeling with my light backpack in my hand as I walked the two blocks home from school was so sweet. I wonder if I'll ever feel that free again.

In My Room

This exercise asks you to describe your childhood room. To fulfill the requirements of the assignment, I'm going to skip my childhood room and instead describe my teenage room.

I had a plain blue cover on my bed. It had blue ink stains on it from when I used to write in bed and I had a pen explode. That was something about my bedroom when I was a teenager. I could reach out in an direction and pick up a pen (between my mattress and my box spring, on the bedside table, in my bedside table, on the floor, in my hair). I had the most humongous dresser that was stained dark brown. It had interesting carving on it. Actually it was missing a drawer, but somehow that didn't diminish its beauty. I also had a green armchair to throw clothes on. I still have it in my basement. It has been my husband's favourite chair.

Next, I'll describe the walls. I had pictures I had drawn myself, poems I had written and illustrated, posters of art that I found beautiful. I also had two long columns of shelves that were inlaid in my closet and I had put tiny pictures for each shelf like each one was its own little world.

I think my favourite thing was the pen thing. I loved that.

What's my favourite thing about my room right now? Parts of it are so much like the room of my dreams. I really love my headboard. It's black iron swirls and flowers. And I have a black and white picture of my husband next to my side of the bed in a silver frame that makes him look like he was a movie star in the forties. My husband is cute.

But I could definitely stand to do a thing or two to make this place more like my home - like get the rest of my pictures up. I should make that a goal for the summer.

Check-in Week Two

1. I did my morning pages five and a half mornings. I got only a page and a half written one morning. I noticed that I was recording my troubles and that after I wrote them I felt like I had been consoled or thought of a way to handle them better so that I was less worried. Also I noticed that when my friend called me for our almost daily chat that I didn't feel the need to vent to her and was better able to listen to her troubles. Instead of being filled with compassion for myself, I felt taken care of, so I could offer her a more honest friendship.

I also found that I was extremely excited the first week, and frankly - depressed and down the second. I had all this energy for cleaning and working on all sorts of different projects - especially making dinner. This last week, I was like a lump. It was terrible.

2. Going on an artist date is hard work. The best I could do was that while my husband waited in line at the registry place, I took my kids in the double stroller and went for a walk in the surrounding area. I found myself taking particular interest in the vehicles that were parked there since the shops sucked. I can't believe how many racer stripes I saw painted on Mustangs. I also saw a man playing a violin on a bus stop bench. The thing was, that usually when I'm stuck doing mundane things, I don't often open my eyes to whatever is going on around me. I was just going to stay home with the kids, but then I thought - why not go for that walk?

3. This week I finished chopping up my novel and got it off to my friend for a continuity check. This week I plan to go over two of the chapters that I felt I may have lost continuity and see how they measure. The thing that was the most significant was that I did the last three chapters in one day. That's taking on a heavier work load that I usually do per day. I binged on work then sluffed off with depression for the rest of the week. I need to be more steady. Oh, and my enthusiasm for other projects teetered. I also didn't feel like sending my book in - even though I have a publishing company waiting for it.

Ten Small Changes

All right, the next item of business is to list ten small changes that I would like to make in my life.

1. I would like to go on an exotic vacation for my ten year anniversary.
2. I would like to get my eyebrows plucked.
3. I would like to buy at least five different white shirts.
4. I would like to have a new item to go on my shelf by my kitchen sink to replace the fish that broke.
5. I would like to learn to drive a Honda Spirit.
6. I would like to get my van serviced.
7. I would like to get a new set of pencil crayons.
8. I would like to finish my painting.
9. I would like to find a new CD to listen to in the van.
10. I would like to get all the crayon washed off the second bedroom wall.

Now, I'm supposed to pick something to be a goal for the week. I'm going to pick the eyebrow thing. I've got 14 people coming to visit on Thursday. I've got work to do.

Me as a Pie

Okay, so the purpose of this next exercise is to examine six different aspects of your life and figure out where you are satisfied and where you are not. I'm supposed to make a pie chart, but mine didn't load well into blogger, so we'll just pretend it's a pie. Let's go.

Work - 40% satisfied

I used to be satisfied by my job before I had a baby and started staying home with my kids. There's a lot to be said for uninterrupted productivity, which is something I seldom have the pleasure of enjoying. Plus, if I'm home and no one is paying me and no one is checking up on me who has the power to fire me - I tend to only do the things I want to. So important stuff gets neglected. I wish I were better at getting on with it.

Play - 60% satisfied

I like playing with my kids. There's not a lot of adult like play - like going to the movies, or bowling, or playing pool, or eating out. Hence the lack of satisfaction. In the end, my idea of play is shopping for something other than diapers and milk.

Exercise - 30% satisfied

About the only scheduled exercise I get is when I play DDR at night. That's if I can get to my basement. It's amazing how many things can hold that up when all I have to do is get down two flights of stairs. It's not that I don't get exercise. Anyone who has kids can MOVE when they have to. My friends say I'm a good sprinter - especially talented at snatching kids who are about to wander out onto the road.

Friends - 100% satisfied

A few weeks ago, I arranged to have a date with my two girlfriends every Tuesday. I've probably never had such a great collection of friends in my whole life.

Romance/Adventure - 70% satisfied

The only reason I'm dissatisfied is because I have a hard time getting my man alone. I'm trying to convince him to take me to a tropical island next summer for our ten year wedding anniversary. But, if I leave my mom at home (not with the kids) then I know she'll be unhappy. She's got money to travel, just no one to go with. But it's not supposed to be a family vacation. It's supposed to be a romantic getaway.

Spirituality - 90% satisfied

The only reason for the 10% lack is that I would like a little more scheduled time to study my scriptures. I get family scripture study done, but it's hard to get the personal one done.

So, that's where I'm lopsided - WORK and EXERCISE

Five More Imaginary Lives

Now, we're really getting creative. I have to come up with five more imaginary lives. I actually found this quite tricky and spent quite a bit of time thinking about it. The other list I rattled off quite naturally. Here goes:

6. An Editor

Of course in my fantasy I would like to edit the sort of novels that I write. Sometimes I've been asked to beta read other author's stories. Usually I have a lot of ideas on how they are screwing up. The thing that's beauty about it, is that once I've noticed their problems - off I go to work on my own project and I see that OOPS! I've done the same thing. The point is that I wouldn't like to do this full time, but if I spent my mornings doing this and I got paid for it - that would simply rock my world.

7. A Special Events Planner

I used to work as an assistant for one of these dudes. Actually, I've worked for two. One who was capable and could do everything himself and one who was a complete basket case and needed me to do everything for her. I'd like to learn more about this and at this moment, I'm actually on my way to an event where I did the invitations and providing the entertainment - me! I'm doing the games. I also enjoy doing face painting at carnivals. I think I'm teaching a class on that this fall.

8. Chocolateer

I know it's pretty sad if I'm not even sure if how to spell one of my dream professions, but there it is. I like making chocolates and packaging them and figuring out what to put in them. I don't have near as much fun with other desserts. I'd have fun learning how to do this properly too, but watching someone make chocolates never helps me to learn a thing.

9. Librarian

This isn't because I like books, even though I do like books. I like my little books that I stack beside my bed (half of which I have written). But I like the methodical brainlessness that accompanies scanning books, typing out labels for them and putting them away. I also like helping with the programs they offer for children at the Library. Story time particularly. I like reading to my children. It would be fun to read to groups of children. This is probably where my theatrical presence comes in. Not that I am incredibly dramatic. It's more like - I seem so to others. I don't recall ever auditioning for a part in a play in my life, but I have been in several plays because I was invited to be in them. I've got one of those voices. One of those LOUD voices. That's probably all there is to it.

10. Park Ranger

I once visited a man who was stationed on top of a small mountain. It was a weather station. I wonder how many people had wanted that job. The view was absolutely fantastic and the man who lived there spent all his time oil painting. And how could you not? His painting was really good too, even though he only had one arm. I'd like to be there for a year or more. Listen to myself think. Look at the beauty God gave us. Dream. Dreaming is good.

Twenty Things I Enjoy

The point of this exercise is to list twenty things you enjoy doing and note the date of when was the last time you did each of those things.

1. Playing Dance Dance Revolution - two weeks ago.
2. Eating crab - a month ago.
3. Drawing - four years ago.
4. Walking in the country - two years ago.
5. Wandering around the downtown core - five years ago.
6. Going to the movies - a year and a half ago.
7. Crocheting - eight months ago.
8. Sitting in an empty house - almost three years ago.
9. Embroidering - a year and a half ago.
10. Hanging out with my friends in a restaurant - five months ago.
11. Eating ice cream - two hours ago.
12. Going on a date with my husband - three months ago.
13. Painting - over a year ago - unless you count the livingroom wall.
14. Quilting - close to two years ago.
15. Taking photographs - a month ago.
16. Bathing (bathes instead of showers) - a few weeks ago.
17. Reading aloud to friends/husband - a week ago.
18. Travelling to the mountains - a month ago.
19. Shopping - two days ago.
20. Writing novels - worked on my last novel on two days ago.

They say these are great ideas for artist dates.

Check-in Week One

All right, so I'm going to answer the check-in questions here.

1. I have done my morning writing on every morning except Sunday and I've decided not to do them on Sunday. No doubt the creator of the program wouldn't like my intentional skipping, but that's a crazy morning getting everyone out the door for church. Besides - I get refreshed at church and she'd approve of that - so it's sort of a toss up.

As for how I felt writing three pages of brain garbage every day - I liked it. I used to do it through a different medium a few years ago, but I had slipped out of the habit. Doing it again was like going home. Besides, after you toss out the brain garbage - you have a quality brain to work with. Fewer distractions.

2. I did go on my artist date this week. I weeded my yard. I know that seems lame, but I actually got outside. It was remarkable progress. And then this morning, I even went out and weeded under my trampoline. It felt great to get out and sparked my curiousity about nature. Wild Roses have wicked thorns. I was pricked by one before I even knew it was there.

3. Yes, there was something that came up that seemed like it would be a hindrance to my artist progress. My mom would rather I watched movies with her and I live with her and so I foresee a problem.

Three Champions

The next assignment is to list three champions of my creative self-worth.

1. Christopher

He's been working with me and wishing me well for the past eleven years. He's my muse. And he lets me know when things don't make sense. He always fights for my dream to write, reminds me of my successes, gives me time to work, gives me tools to work, and flatters my ego daily.

2. Rose

She let me read a whole novella to her over the phone over five years ago (way before my writing was any good). She lets me rant when I want. She joins in too. I love that.

After that, I'm not sure who to name. There were all my high school girl friends who let me read my novels to them at slumber parties in the beginning and even of late some of my family members have even begun reading my stuff. And there have been hundreds of online readers who have praised me and followed me and encouraged me.

I've always wondered who I would thank in the opening leaves of my first novel. I'm sending a novel into a publishing company that I got an invitation from in a couple weeks. I'd dedicate it to Christopher and thank him for having brown eyes.

ASIDE:
I was supposed to take an assignment that I was interested in, one I was afraid of, and one I felt neutral towards. The one about the people who have harmed me was the one I was afraid of, the possible lives one was the one I was interested in, and this was the one I felt neutral towards. I'm going to start the next chapter tomorrow.

Five Imaginary Lives

All right, the next assignment is to imagine that you have five imaginary lives. What would I do in them?

1. I would be a chef.

I really like food and I really like cooking. I don't really have a lot of time for it and my brain has been hopelessly damaged for the number of times I've thrown up - probably over a thousand times - until I have so many sensory issues with food I could die - BUT! I still like food.

2. I would be an opera singer.

Part of the reason for doing this is to unlock your dreams and get you to act on what you write down. I already wander around the house singing when I feel like it. It took a lot of courage not to get rattled whenever my mother comes in (just as a side note - I'm not a teenager, but my mom lives with me since she has bad health). Except that I haven't had a new practice song in awhile. My last one was 'My Immortal' by Evanesence. I was struggling with it when I was pregnant. Pretty much as soon as I had my baby, my diaphragm started working again and I could suddenly sing it right.

3. Accounts Receivable Clerk

I know accounting probably sounds like the most non-creative profession in the world, but I really liked doing it the two times I used to do it. I did it at a University and a Newspaper. It's repetitive, but it leaves a place in your brain free for thought and it comes out right in the end. I like doing paperwork.

4. Art Teacher

I used to teach grade four students art as part of my work experience when I was in high school. It's not that I'm a brilliant artist, but I have loads of ideas for projects intended to spur creativity and enhance fine motor skills. I was also taking an art class at the same time I was teaching this class and HOLY CATS - my art teacher didn't know what the heck he was doing. It would have been a more exciting class if I could have taught it. And that's not me being egocentric. His class was really lousy.

5. Plushie maker

Yeah. I want to learn how to make plushies. I can't even explain how much I want to learn how to do this, but I don't like the patterns I find and the patterns I make myself usually don't turn out as well as I'd like. I want to take a class in this ... when my kids are old enough to stop turning my sewing machine off and on while I'm using it.

END NOTE: Just as a thought I had while I was looking this list over (and I didn't do this intentionally), each one of these professions play into a different sense. Food for the taste and smell, singing for the ears, art for the eyes, and plushies for the touch. Accounting? Well, to feed my need for control and to rest my poor brain.

Three Old Enemies

So, I haven't used this blog for awhile, but I decided to use it as I map a creative journey I'm taking. I've wanted a copy of Julia Cameron's 'The Artist's Way' for some time now and I finally found myself a copy. I'm at the end of the first chapter and I'm taking her challenges quite seriously. The first one I decided to tackle was to list three old enemies of my creative self- worth.

1. My Mother-in-Law

Anytime my novel writing comes up in conversation or otherwise, she shoves her head into the novel she's reading with such an active effort that I can't help but feel snubbed. There's a couple reasons this bugs me. The first one is that I make a palpable effort to listen to her when she discusses her creative endeavors (sewing, choir direction), when I am not the least bit interested in either of those things. The second reason I'm annoyed is that the book she's reading is usually a drug store romance novel and even if I'm no literary giant - I can at least give those wenches a run for their money. Sheesh!

The thing that hurt me the most was when my father-in-law read one of my novels. He gave me some criticism, and it was absolutely nothing I couldn't take. He's an English teacher and his opinion has a lot of weight with me. After she told me that he had gone easy on me and proceeded to lecture me about novel writing like I was 13 again starting my very first book. I was working on my 15th book then and felt like I had been made into a complete fool for believing that I had actually made progress. I was a baby and ...

I realized that I would never be anything else to her no matter who I was able to impress.

So, I asked her if I could talk to my father-in-law. I wanted to hear what he really thought instead of listening to her garbled nonsense (it wasn't like she even read the book), and she wouldn't let me talk to him.

2. My Mother

My mother gave up on most of her creative endeavors when she became a mom. She was a painter and had a university professor tell her that she would never be good enough to make a living, even though she had already sold a collection of paintings and everything she'd ever sculpted. That man squashed her dream of being an artist, probably because his dream had been squashed too and then my mother continues the cycle by discouraging me.

Actually, I've fought pretty hard for my writing. I have printed whole novels for her to read and short stories if the novels are too long and she doesn't read them. I don't print them anymore. She's not allowed to read my writing. And she's proud of me now, but only because I have earned an audience.

Here's what my mother's discouragement tastes like:

- Good writers read.
- Are you really going to cut bangs?
- This is the time you should be spending with your children.

This last one really fries me. It bothers me because I know she didn't spend her time doting on me when I was a preschooler. I spent most of my time playing with the neighbourhood kids while she made buns. Like her, I cannot be their playmate 24/7. It's unhealthy for both of us. The last thing is that I don't think she realizes that I am disappointed in her for giving up painting. I would have liked to grow up watching her paint.

3. Me

I'm terrible. I can't even list all the times I've degraded myself and stood ashamed of my work.

- It's not intelligent.
- It's trashy.
- It's boring.

No one can rip me to shreds like I can. The difference is that I'm much better at forgiving myself. That's not terribly normal. Usually, we forgive others faster than ourselves. I just have always figured that no one will make a fuss of me except myself. I love myself enough to throw myself a party and take myself out to the firing squad - sometimes in the same day. The trick is knowing yourself enough to know when either of those actions is appropriate.