I had just typed my title, fingers hovering over my keyboard, and I noticed a new comment. I can’t resist clicking on new comments, so click, I did, before even typing the first word of this post. Greeting me, in response to my Day 24 post, were thoughts from Elisabeth Ellington:
This is just what I needed. Well, I always need comments…they really do keep me going. But, I was about to launch into my sad self, and instead, I read Elisabeth’s uplifting comments. I went off to read her blog. Her Day 25 post was just what I needed. You can click her link to read it:
Here, I Write: Slice of Life 26/31 #sol16
After reading her post, I left a comment. Probably the longest I’ve ever left, but Elisabeth had her timing just right, and her words so perfectly selected! Here is what I said (it doesn’t appear to be up ion her site yet):
This is why I am here…
“Here, I write. I’m reading more than I write. I always do. It feels like a visit with dear friends. I bookmark several ideas I might return to later. I try to comment generously. So many new-to-me slicers. I remember how much comments meant to me when I was a new blogger. I think about how much they still mean to me. I remind myself to focus on the craft too, not just the content. It’s so easy to connect to the content. It takes more careful thought to attend to the craft.”
You left a comment, and you attended to the content and the craft, and it was the most perfect distraction at the most perfect moment. And one more thing, your first name is my mother’s name, and my middle name, and it is spelled just the same, with an “s” and not a “z” and that feels incredibly perfect at this moment. Please come visit my Day 25 post, in a little bit. I’ve interrupted the writing of it to visit you.
Your “Here, I write.” slice is beautiful. The repetition brings the reader into different scenes and facets of your writing life. It is a beautiful way to capture your writer self. I loved getting a glimpse into your spaces and process. I, too, try to comment on craft, and am appreciative for your comment, and the specificity you offered. Your comment mattered more than you can know. I am returning to my post, which your comment gratefully interrupted.
Feedback is always awesome. Feedback that makes you feel like you are on to something is even better. Feedback that comes from someone with your name, and your mom’s name, that is spelled the same way seems like fate. Feedback that distracts a feeling-sad-mom from her packed suitcase and the knowledge that she needs to get on a plane in less than 12 hours, and leave her grown-up baby, is the best kind of feedback.
I thought I’d be writing about trying not to be sad. Now, instead, I have distracted myself with the lovely comments and post of Elisabeth, with an “s”, Ellington. I have not blubbered over my keyboard. I’ve actually smiled and chuckled, and totally appreciated the humor in her piece when she talks about her son waking and then telling him: “I don’t even know how I lived without you for these twelve hours! I’m so glad you’re awake!”
LOL! I needed to read that. I also found the juxtaposition interesting because, I actually don’t know how I’ve lived since July without my baby, and I’m not sure how I’m getting on that plane.
Okay, my eyes are a bit filled up, but still, I’m not a waterworks, and I have Elisabeth to thank for that!
Now, I will try to sleep for a few hours before having breakfast with my baby and my trip home to the other side of the world…from my baby. Yes, I’m trying not to be sad, and I’m happy to have had help from a fellow TWT blogger and commenter!
CORRECTION: 3/26/16 at 1:56 PM / 3/27/16 at 2:57 am in Japan: The time difference is wreaking havoc on my thinking! Please note that my references above to “days” in the challenge are wrong. I had yet another posting panic as I tried to post for Day 25, found the comments closed, and realized that I was actually on Day 26 and had already posted for Day 25. Elisabeth’s above-referenced post is for Day 26, and the post she commented on for me was for Day 25. Tomorrow, with a sad heart, I will return to my own time zone, and a lot less confusion!
On my way to Japan, I wrote about my travel experience, and when I arrived, I posted pictures of my notebook pages. The day after I arrived, I posted more notebook pictures where I had written about my reunion with my son at the airport. At that point, I thought I would do this each day, writing about the events of the prior day, except that I have not been able to keep up with the events, and when I sit to write there is too much to say. Each day has been like a week, and now, on the eve of my departure, I realize that the stories of my week will be the writing of weeks to come.
I have so many pictures. I will revisit the events they have captured, reviewing the images, and pulling out the moments– bringing them back to life in words.
Yesterday, I made a discovery. Writing takes time, but sometimes there isn’t any. What to do? In the moment, take a little time, not to compose a piece, but to grab the elements for one. I have a piece that is waiting to be assembled. While standing on the platform of the monorail, I jotted a sequence of events. Scrawled really. On two small pages I collected bits of dialogue, and the order of what happened. These are the things I would lose in a week.
As I stood there scribbling phrases and abbreviated words, I imagined Hemingway (one of my favorite writers) doing the same when he was reporting on wars. It struck me as a funny thought. Surely, I had not discovered something new by taking notes of my experience, but it was something I had never thought to do before. Yes, I’ve taken notes. Yes, I’ve written ideas for pieces I’ve written. Yes, I’ve grabbed scraps of paper to write a thought to add to a piece. But, I can’t remember making notes about my life in the moment so that I could later write about that exact slice of my life. Is this what it means to live a writerly life? To plan for future stories in the moment?
In participating in the Slice of Life Challenge, I have observed my world differently. Throughout my day, I find myself thinking, This is a slice; I could write about this today. Occasionally, I have jotted a phrase to hold onto the idea. But, I have never taken notes in the moment so that the ideas would be fresher when I sit to write. I know that writers have done this for as long as there have been writers. And yet, I don’t think I ever have. But, wearing the garb of a writer placed me in a different position. My need caused me to invent a new way of being a writer of my experience. I learned a new trick because I could not write in that moment, but I wanted to be able to write in the future about that moment. So, I took notes about myself! It still strikes me as a funny, and even silly discovery, but I know that I have uncovered a new truth of writing and writers.
And, as absurd as it seems to be “writing aloud” what will surely be an obvious idea to other writers, I feel that I cannot be alone in this realization. If nothing else, I know that this will inform my teaching in a new way. I imagine having pocket notebooks for all my students now. A coil ring holding a pen inside. Setting aside days at the beginning of the year for modeling taking notes about our own lives, in the moment. Stopping and jotting as soon as ideas come to us. Demonstrating the furious writing that comes from wanting to quickly gather thoughts when they happen.
It is the eve of my departure from Japan. I will live like a writer today, as I have all the days of this trip, but on the last one, I will look for moments, I will take pictures, AND I will take notes. I will plan for slices of life to be written.
(Look for a piece about my monorail experience in a future slice! It’s just waiting to be assembled.)
A moment before I started typing this post, I had the second scare, in less than 24 hours, that I’d missed my slice post. A physical lump came instantly to my throat and a clenched feeling gripped my stomach.
Nooooo! I thought. I was so close! I was on top of it! I kept up with the challenge through all the challenges! Tell me I didn’t mess it up now, just as I’m getting to the final moments!
Yesterday, I had posted at just after 11:00 pm EST on the Day 23 call for slices. Then I went to comment on other posts. When I came back to Two Writing Teachers awhile later, I saw the Day 24 call. I considered writing that post, but I was soon going to meet my son, and needed to get ready. What happened next is now unclear in my head because, I was finished linking my Day 23 post on TWT’s call, and I had commented on Day 23 slices, so I should have been set to go. Instead, I clicked one more time on the Day 23 call and scrolled through the posted links. I didn’t see mine. Oh no! Did I accidentally post Day 23 on Day 24, and miss the call for a day? I actually had a panicked feeling as I clicked on Day 24. Two links on the new day’s call, and mine was not there. I went back to Day 23 and scrolled through. Nope. Not there. Well, that’s the end of that I thought. I felt deflated. All that work for nothing.
Of course it wasn’t for nothing, but beyond all that I have learned and gained from this challenge, I really wanted to say that I’d gotten to the end. Despite the challenge of developing a routine of “writing aloud” daily. Despite the challenge of writing during conference week. Despite the challenge of traveling to Japan in the middle of March. Despite the time differences and 20 hours of travel in each direction. Despite all the little interferences that threatened to derail me, I had made time to write every day, and then…disaster!
But, wait! I know! I scrolled back through Day 23, which I had posted from my phone. For whatever reason, on my phone, I can’t seem to post through my Google account, so my picture wasn’t listed with my comment, rather a random avatar had been attached. I scrolled slowly through the times, and there it was…
A funny green monster stood in for my picture, and the time stamp of 11:01 pm assured me that I’d made Day 23! Relief.
And then this morning, I went to comment on slices first. As I hit the back button on my browser to return to the Day 24 call, I saw “Day 25” show up on the blog I had just been reading. NOOOOOO! I thought again. How is that possible? I backed up another page to TWT. There it said Day 24. I clicked on the TWT home page. No Day 25 posted yet. Whew! I had simply stumbled upon someone who is clearly better organized than I, and had posted their Day 25 slice while I was reading their Day 24 slice.
I will take a lesson from this. I have two more days in Japan, and then I reverse my 20 hour journey. But, instead of living in the future, I will go back in time, arriving in the U.S. 15 minutes earlier than I leave Tokyo on Sunday! What does that mean for the March challenge? I had better be sure to have my timing right! I am stopping here to make a chart…
Okay! I’m ready! Seven more days of writing in this challenge. I got this!
Tomorrow, or today, depending upon your perspective, I will write about an experience from my trip that doesn’t have to do with confusion over different time zones. I’m off to the Okinawa Prefectural Museum & Art Museum.
In the moment…
I want to stare out this window.
I want to drink my Jasmine tea
with sweet honey
and listen to the wind howling
through the gaps in the sliding doors.
I don’t want to slice at this moment.
I want to be in the moment.
I want to gaze about the room.
I want to taste my buttery croissant
with flaky layers
and smell the lilies decorating
amongst the all-white flowers in the central vase.
I don’t want to slice at this moment.
I want to be in the moment.
I want to think of my days here.
I want to replay my experiences
and remember the conversations sprinkling
throughout the sightseeing in the week.
I don’t want to slice at this moment.
So I will leave this slice-in-verse
and return to the poetry of this place.