by susan | Feb 13, 2013 | Uncategorized
david carradine is quoted as saying if you cannot be a poet, be the poem.
ah! I want to be a poem.
full of grace and rhythm and words, amazing and beautiful and strange and lyrical words.
living a life that says something, makes a statement, causes others to ponder and think and reconsider.
changing metre and form and perhaps even direction, a time or two or, of course, continually.
it may stick at times, or bite. or swoop with devastating loss and soar with unexplained loft.
lives will be lost and nations will be conquered and good will always prevail over evil, though the highest good may not always be clear to mere mortals.
choices will be made, paths chosen, forks encountered and journeys pondered, yet never regretted, whether taken or not.
in the end wings will fold and existence will settle into dust, and all will be understood by those who take the time to read each word and sit in solitude and let the beauty and grace seep into their awareness.
I am a poem.
by susan | Feb 10, 2013 | Uncategorized
may I never, ever, be heard saying that I want to give a shout out to anyone.
sincerely,
older-than-I-want-to-be-but-sometimes-glad-for-it, me
by susan | Feb 7, 2013 | Uncategorized
I’ve had a twitter account for almost 2 years now. I’ve tweeted 6 times, none of them earth-shattering, brilliant, or even anything close to pithy.
I amaze myself with my boring, deeply uncreative approach to twitter: am I truly this dull?
I tell myself the problem is that as a writer I simply have too much to say. tweeting is like writing a synopsis: coming up with a meaningful tweet is–for me–akin to taking an entire 350-page book and condensing it to one page. my inspiration does not seem to come in short-and-sweet, pithy, or concise varieties, and my little-teeny ego does not like to be edited.
that being said, I am always one for self-improvement. matthew kelly said it best (and then I painted in on my mirrored dining room wall): it’s our job to become the next best version of ourselves. no matter how great I/we/whomever might be today, there is always an opportunity for us to become even better/richer/deeper tomorrow. thus…can you feel this coming? I’m assigning myself a new task.
writing synopses and “book cover copy” is an important part of being a writer. we’re told if we cannot describe our project in a sentence or two, we’ll never be able to sell it. agents and publishers accept and reject projects off of information gleaned from one-page query letters and brief (one-paragraph to three-page) synopses. it’s crucial that a writer learn to be succinct. (I just chopped off the last two words of that sentence, “when necessary” because they weren’t really necessary. )
so my new self-assigned task is to work on my tweets. not that I expect my tweets to save the world, inspire others, or change lives; I simply see it as a skill that I have an opportunity to develop. I am setting a goal of tweeting something every week that is neither copied from someone else nor a weather report. neither an action recap (rode my bike today!) nor a wish list (wish the sun were shining so I could ride my bike!) but a statement in 140-characters-or-less that is, somehow, worth reading.
yes I’m nervous. I’m already thinking I’ll have to start a new “tweet” notebook to jot ideas and notes in, and that I’m going to be spending an inordinate amount of time worrying about this. but because I’ve said it, I’m now going to do it. and to help keep me honest I’m posting my twitter address (do they even call it that?) here so you can check up on me:
@susanibird13
watch me learn how to tweet! (and then someday I’ll learn about hashtags. maybe.)
hey, it’s hard to get someplace if you’re not willing to do the work.
by susan | Jan 27, 2013 | Uncategorized
this afternoon I decided to organize my writing life. a wet version of something between hail, sleet, and snow is piling up on my yard and patio and it’s a perfect day to be indoors contemplating the various paths I might follow during my next half-year of writing.
like the suddenness of this afternoon’s storm, my writing life has just ignited. while I was waiting for a lunch meeting regarding my grace manuscript, I counted back the years of this writing life of mine, and realized that it’s been almost 22 years since I committed to creating written works of art. given, I haven’t yet quit my day job, but I have never truly stopped pursuing this dream. I’ve performed some editing, I’ve hired out, I’ve spent a chunk of time writing “morning pages,” I’ve attended workshops and seminars and written more queries and synopses than I want to think about. printed papers of all I’ve written would likely cover every wall in our main downtown library. essays, short stories, novels, memoir, works of non-fiction . . . I am versatile and prolific.
and suddenly I’m busy. I have one published book out there for which I must stimulate sales and find more ways to market, and I have a completed manuscript for which I’m creating a marketing plan. I’ve just accepted a commission to complete a memoir for a woman who died before completing hers, and I’m working on a short story to enter into a competition next month. in addition, I have a friend who wants me to take a look at her manuscript, and a request from a small publisher to come up with an idea (and eventually a completed manuscript) to meet his current need. not to mention my novel-in-the-works . . .
so I decided it was time to get organized.
my sophisticated system is this: a manila folder upon which I’ve written the name of each project, my current plans and commitments for it, and my 3-6 month goal. it took about 15 minutes, and so far it works for me. now I have something to keep me centered and on task, to help me remember what I might forget, something to keep me honest. it all seems doable.
however, it also pointed out to me that we’ve already finished almost one-twelfth of this beautiful new year, and next month’s contest deadline will be followed closely by my next goal date in april. time slows for no man, does she?
the snow is still coming down solidly, building on top of what came down when I began typing this post. it’s a good quarter-inch higher than it was then, thick and white and wet. it’s resolute, committed, determined, unstoppable.
sounds good to me.
by susan | Dec 18, 2012 | Uncategorized
a close friend of mine earned her executive MBA recently, attending a highly ranked program and working harder than you can imagine to do so. she had to do some group work, she had to write papers. she assessed case studies and performed calculations, and had to submit all of her work to professors for their critique and grade.
ugh. I shudder just thinking about it. I’ve had my turn in grad school, but it was long enough ago that the memories (and anxiety) have faded.
talking with my friend today, though, brought back those moments of stress, those uncomfortable times when I had to subject myself to someone’s assessment of my work.
and here I am again.
I created a written work, poured hours and days, weeks, months, years into this manuscript, then spent weeks formatting, proofing, tweaking it into a form I liked. I then pushed the “yes” button and ordered printed copies, and made them available for sale. I eventually created an email campaign to send to close friends and loved ones letting them know about my milestone.
it’s like I’ve written term papers for all my classes, handed them in, and have to now suffer the consequences: I feel like I’m back in school. being graded. scrutinized. having opinions formed about. waiting for word of whether or not I’m going to pass.
I’m astonished by how uncomfortable this all makes me. I’ve been posting to blogs for over 4 years now, so I have apparently become comfortable with “putting myself out there.” why, now, do I suddenly feel such great discomfort when discussing my book with people? the only reason I can find is that I am nervous about the grade. I’ve sailed through 19 years of education with terrific grades: I now am surrounded by fears that what I most love, what fuels me and makes my soul sing, is not going to earn an “A” out in the world.
so, here I am, back in school. author school. manning up, remembering that I have the right to create what I create, to work the way I want to, to express myself in ways that work for me. learning the ropes, learning to subject myself to the feedback, opinions, and grades of others. my friend did it, even graduated and is now succeeding in the real world. she did it, she survived . . . guess I can do it, too.
I think I’ll give myself an A.
by susan | Dec 6, 2012 | Uncategorized
life shifts in subtle ways daily, most so minor we can neither see nor feel them. we age, our bike tires wear thinner and thinner, dust collects on our bedside stack of books.
and then there are larger shifts: we give birth, we change jobs, we move. we choose a new school, a new career, a new partner, we take up a new sport.
I’ve been through so many shifts and changes in the past 10 years I don’t know that I could ever list them all, but today’s is momentous, so I am sharing it here: my first book is in print! (well, it’s not my first book, but it’s the first of my books to be in print.)
released yesterday, Faith Greater Than Pain is available on amazon.com, createspace.com, and on FaithGreaterThanPain.com.
Doc Cleland and I have been working on this project together since june of 2010, and we are thrilled to be where we are, with a real book in hand. we are in the midst of marketing madness, working on mailing lists and store contacts and bribery lists . . . asking everyone we know to help spread the word, using every tool we have to get the information out.
I, of course, would rather just be writing away on my next project (stay tuned), but for the last chunk of time I’ve been editing, proofing, and formatting, and now I’ve plunked my marketing cap on my head. writing me is not pleased, but realistic me knows that as gratifying as it is to write, it’s even more gratifying if someone actually reads what you write.
so, if you’re intrigued, here’s a link to doc’s great video that tells you about the book, and if you have a spare moment in your day today, wish me well. wish me sales and positive reviews, wish me fulfillment and encouragement to keep on with the next project.
because as sure as my tires wear thinner and those wrinkles around my eyes deepen, I dream about spending the rest of my life writing, and–ideally–being read.
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