fiction: tabloid inspired

A couple of weeks ago, the homework for my writing class was to take a headline from a tabloid and use it as a jumping off point for a more serious short story or poem. I was uninspired by the headlines in my grocery star tabloids ("Brad Gives Angie Ultimatum!" "Jennifer Lopez Fights Eating Disorder!" "Larry King Marries Again!") and decided to go to that old standby - the now sadly defunct Weekly World News. I stole a legendary headline from them. The monologue that follows is all my own.

"Bat Boy Found in West Virginia Cave!" by Bill Creighton, Weekly World News, June 23, 1992

I blame the doctor.

I wanted a baby so badly. The other doctors I'd seen wouldn't help me, so I sought this one out. The office was in a bad part of town and it was dark and smelled a bit funny but he didn't ask me many questions. He said he would help me get pregnant.

And he did. I don't know what the shots were for or what was in the medicine he gave me to drink but I didn't care. I would soon have my baby.

It wasn't a difficult pregnancy. I didn't get too sick. The last few months were hard when I had trouble sleeping but that was it, really. It would have been more fun if there had been someone – anyone - in my life to share in my excitement, throw me a baby shower or help me set up the nursery. But I didn't mind so much. Soon I would have a baby to love. I wouldn't need anyone else.

He was born right on his due date and, from the first, I could tell something was wrong. The first time I held him in my arms I felt not love but revulsion. This was not the child I was meant to have. He was not my baby.

In those first few months he cried a lot. I made sure that he was fed and his diapers were dry but for the most part, I left him in his crib. He was safe there and I did not have to look at him.

As he got older, I continued to cringe at his touch. When he tried to crawl in my lap, I would push him away. When he cried, I left him to it. No one could say that I did not take good care of him. He had food and clothes, I even bought him books and toys. But nothing could make me love him.

I don't feel too guilty about that because it soon became clear that he was a bad kid. The first time he got into trouble in school, I went in to meet with the his teacher. After that, I didn't bother answering her notes or phone calls. If he couldn't get along with the other kids there was really nothing I could do.

The first time he ran away, I called around to the neighbours. The second time, I left the door unlocked so he could come in when he decided to come home. The third time, I locked it.

The first time he was arrested, I went down to the police station right away. The second time, I let him spend the night in jail. The third time – I decided he was the state's problem not mine.

A short time after that, he stole a car from the school parking lot. I haven't heard from him since. This morning I got a call. He was found hiding in a cave in West Virginia. They want me to come to him. But what would be the point?

That child, that particular child, was a mistake. He should never have been born.

I am sad, though. I do feel a loss – not for that child but for the baby I might have had. The mother I might have been.

Maybe I should try again.

This time, I'll go to a different doctor.

but i have an excuse (actually i have a few)

I bailed on National Novel Writing Month on the first day, having written just under 700 words.

I felt like there were too many other interesting bits of writing that I wanted to do, including continuing to edit last year's novel.

And then my life became insane. I've been really hard on myself for all the things I'm not doing lately. This week, though, I've had two people who are very important to me (my coach/therapist and my friend DM) listen to me unload and then tell me that I would have every right to feel overwhelmed with a fraction of what I've got on my plate.

I tend to be hard on myself because I don't work outside the home right now. If I don't go to a job I feel like I should just sail through my other commitments. It felt really good to list everything going on in my life and have two women I respect offer support and sympathy. I've decided that I need to cut myself a lot more slack.

I can do NaNoWriMo next year. I'm OK with that. But I did feel a pang when my son sent me this video:



NaNoWriMo was a fun kind of crazy. I just couldn't let the rest of my life go to do it this year.

what i would miss

I just did an interesting writing prompt from Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg:

"Tell me what you will miss when you die."

The instructions were to write for ten minutes without censoring yourself. Here's what I wrote:

My kids

My spouse

My family

My friends

My dog

Beautiful fall days

Walks along the canal with my dog

Getting lost in a book

Taking a nap on a cold afternoon

Knitting with friends

The feeling of euphoria when I write something good

Music

Good food

Laughing

Wondering at art

A hot bath after exercise

Physical intimacy (all kinds)

The happy feeling when I unexpectedly run into someone I like

Learning new things

Aha! moments

Seeing people do good things

Being proud of my children

Noisy gatherings around my dining room table

Doing fun things for the first time

Doing familiar things that make me happy

Connecting creatively or intellectually

Making new friends

Having old friends and family members who 'get' me

Scrabble

Fresh starts

Clean sheets

Small kindnesses

Spectacular acts of bravery

Feeling proud of myself

The way the pavement smells after a summer rain

The possibility of tomorrow

What about you?

omg

may's ten things: how i did

Here's how I did with May's "To Do" list (still playing along with the List Lovers at BlogHer):

As with previous months, completed tasks are in blue, partially done tasks are in green and the tasks I didn't even started in purple.

1. Spend an average of eight hours writing a week (I didn't even come close but I did make some progress on the editing of the draft novel and I started meeting - and exchanging writing - with my awesome writing buddy so I'm going to give myself partial credit anyway).

2. Do strength training at least twice every week (I did it once all month but I've been suffering from some gastrointestinal issues that made strength training, especially ab work, less appealing. It's pretty lame but it's all I've got).

3. Do an average of five hours of cardio every week (Completed and exceeded this goal!).

4. Make soup twice (I made the sweet potato spinach one I mentioned in last month's post and another one that I made up with cabbage and Indian spices. This business of winging it is a new development for me and I'm very pleased).

5. Sort through my clothes (Carried over from February, March and April and still not done).

6. Finish making summer plans for my family. (It's very nearly done. I just need to book my youngest into a couple of weeks of day camp).

7. Go to at least one bike store and do some test rides.

 

8. Spend one afternoon every week doing something fun or relaxing.

9. Finish one knitting project.

10. Spend one afternoon per week just dealing with this to-do list.

So that's six things accomplished, two partially done (and one of those could almost be in the 'done' category) and two not yet finished.

I'm pleased with my progress but I'm also aware that two of the items that got short shrift (the clothes and the writing) are things I really wanted to do.

I'm organizing myself differently for June but I'll tell you about that in another post. 

inside laurie's head

saying "no" to:

beating myself up

people who make me feel bad about myself

feeling ashamed

hiding from people who love me

giving into my fears

jealousy

Saying "yes" to:

spending time with the people who fill me up

reading for pleasure

tapping my own creative resources

trying new things

fun

talking to my Mom more often

giddy about:

all the great books that are available to read

the way my kids and spouse make me laugh until I cry

dog bellies and snouts

the potential of things I could knit

the thought that I am a Writer

scared of:

dying

not being able to read, or write, walk my dogs or play with my kids

writing fiction and discovering that I don't have the talent for it

anything bad happening to someone I love

deeply inspired by: 

beautiful prose

my sister

my friends

my kids

Lene

being in love

obsessed with:

the clutter in my house (not that I do anything about it)

wondering where the day goes

finding peanut and nut alternatives

thinking about things I could knit (as opposed to actual knitting)

tracking what books i read and planning what books i'm going to read next

Scrabble

in love with:

Tim

my boys

the dogs

feeling the sun on my face on a warm spring day

saved by:

blogging and my journal

world class health care

Tim

the people who love me

good chocolate

finding a reason every day to be happy.

and you?

Thanks to Mocha Momma and Dancing Mermaid for inspiring me to do this.

it scares me

Every since I could read (and probably even before), I have wanted to be a writer of fiction.

And now that I have the opportunity, I am terrified.

My professional life helped me overcome a great deal of writing anxiety. When you have a writing deadline and you know that fifteen other people are going to comment and edit what you write, you learn to just put fingers to the keyboard and get the job done. This is a lesson it took me a long time to learn but I got there (more or less).

I enjoyed doing the kind of writing that I was able to do for advocacy organizations and labour unions but I seldom got to pick the subject of the pieces I wrote. I learned to write in the voice of the organization I represented or the person for whom I was writing a statement or speech. It was fun and I got to be reasonably good at it but keeping the writing at some distance helped me to overcome most of my anxiety. 

And the sheer volume of work meant that I frequently had little time for angst between cranking out one piece and then beginning the next.

This blog was the next step in my writing evolution. Beginning when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer and at my most vulnerable, there was little that I did not reveal here. Before long, I realized that my writing had changed, that the voice use is now my own.

Then I began to long to create something new, to make up stories in the way that I had as a child. I set this as my next goal.

And then I froze.

Participating in National Novel Writing Month was a breakthrough for me, as I took the short scenes I had written for a fiction course and the notes in my journal and cranked out 50,000 words in less than a month. I celebrated with champagne when I finished. The completion of this project marked a huge personal triumph.

But I have not looked at a single word of the manuscript since November 29th. Moving continuously forward was the key to getting through NaNoWriMo and I did not let myself re-read as I wrote. Then I permitted myself to take a break in December. Then January came and went. And now, we are well into February.

When I set my ten goals for this month, I included the task of reviewing my draft novel. Two days ago, I finally printed it. The pages fell out of the printer and onto the floor. I scooped them up and dropped them on the dining room table, where they remain, out of order and unread.

I'm off to Toronto tomorrow evening. I'm going to bring the document with me and on Sunday's train ride home, I'm going to start to read.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Is there anything that you really want to do that scares you?

in other news

I was felled by a yucky stomach bug this week and really didn't feel much like blogging. It's the price I pay for a weakened immune system. My older son is home sick today, too. Not sure what his excuse is.

Also, my spouse is in Florida. As far as I know, he's not sick.

To compensate for my bitterness at having been struck down during a week of single parenting (I know, some of you have to deal with this kind of thing all the time), I thought I would show off a little.

Here is my latest clapotis. I made it for my mom.



She thinks she's not very photogenic but I think she's lovely.

I made this thing on tiny (2.75mm, if you care about these things) needles and a laceweight (read very fine) yarn. It nearly killed me.

I was working on it during chemo one day and one of the pharmacists, herself a knitter, shook her head and exclaimed, "You must really love your mother!"

I do.

And while I wouldn't necessarily recommend doing this as a laceweight (not just because it takes forever but because fixing errors is a painstaking process) but I am very pleased with the end results. The yarn is an alpaca and silk blend from Knit Picks and the scarf is soft, airy and has a lovely drape.

I think I am addicted to the clapotis. Although I'll do it in a thicker yarn and on bigger needles (the original was done in my much thicker yarn). Doing this on sock yarn will feel like a breeze.

And did you note the state of my walls?

I have been stripping wallpaper. It's part of a project that a friend is helping with (I know that should be "with which a friend is helping" but that felt awkward. Just want you sticklers to know that I am aware that I'm taking liberties). She offered to "paint a room" in my house in exchange for a bunch of kids' stuff we'd outgrown.

I definitely got the better end of that deal. We got a bunch of stuff out of our house and she has already devoted two afternoons to scraping the wallpaper in my hallway - on two floors and up the stairs.

I have to admit that I have never undertaken this kind of project before and I'm actually enjoying it. On our second afternoon we used "Concentrated Wallpaper Remover" from the hardware store and the hard-to-scrape stuff just melted off. Very cool. I hope it's not too terribly toxic. There didn't seem to be any fumes. It kind of smelled like dish soap.

There's another hour of stripping to do and then I gather everything has to be washed, then primed then painted. And then it will all look so good that the rest of the house will seem really dingy in contrast.

Finally, I feel like I can't conclude this post without mentioning the horrific situation in Haiti. Please give what you can, to a reputable organization.

When the Yarn Harlot sent out the "knit signal" last week, I was prompted to direct my money to Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders). They are already set up to help and do excellent work aroun the world.

Click here to donate in Canada, the United States or everywhere else in the world (find your country in the menu on the left). The Harlot mentioned in her post that it is most helpful if you direct your donation to "Emergency Relief" or "Greatest Needs" instead of to a specific project.

survivors' review

I have a guest post up at Survivors' Review, a wonderful blog that "encourages the creative expression of cancer survivors."

My piece, which is in the section called "Write Now!" is about my take on the importance of writing for cancer survivors and includes a few of my favourite (and completely unoriginal) writing prompts. And, I have to admit, that when I look at the list on the bottom of the page of former contributors to the column, I am tickled, well - tickled pink, I guess.

My book also tops the list in the Resources section of the Review.

I feel good about this. It's a nice thing to have happen at the end of a hard week.

keeping it specific in 2010

It's time to dip my toe back into the regular writing of this blog by letting you know that I have scaled way back on the New Year's resolutions this year.

In 2008, I had a list.

Last year, I resolved to "treat my body as well as I treat my mind." Since I gained at least 10 pounds (I'm afraid to get on the scale) and even more than that since my breast cancer diagnosis in early 2006, abandoned yoga and did no strength or core training, I was inclined to view this year as an abject failure on the resolution front. But then my spouse reminded me that I rode my bike pretty much everywhere between April and the first snow. Also, I ran regularly throughout the summer (this was brought to a halt by H1N1 but I'll start again) and cooked more than I ever have in my life.

So I've decided to tell myself that I did OK.

But this year, I have decided to be very realistic and specific in my goal. This year, I resolve to make soup.

Yesterday's soup was lentil carrot, from "Cooking With Foods That Fight Cancer."

Soup-making is creative and provides right-brain stimulating repetitive motion. Soup is generally healthful and inexpensive to make. But really, I just feel like making soup.

I'm going to make soup at least 20 times this year (every other week, less in the summer).

Have you made any goals for 2010?

milestone reviewed

I am featured on a blog called "Women at Forty" today.

When I was aked to submit a post, I thought it would be appropriate to re-visit a post I wrote on the eve of my fortieth birthday.

I'm looking forward to writing my fiftieth birthday post. Only eight more years and countless clean scans to go.

nothing ventured...

I have decided that I won't be doing NaBloPoMo this year.

My heart just isn't in it. This is in part because two of my NaBlo compadres have died. It just won't be the same without Sara and Emily. I miss their voices so much and I just don't feel like blogging every day without them at my virtual side.

But November can be a hard month for me and I still need something to distract and consume me.

I also need motivation to return to the scary (for me) world of fiction writing. I got so much done during my online writing course last year but have done nothing since submitting my outline for a novel, as my final assignment on December 31.

A few weeks ago Rachael suggested to Zoom that she try NaNoWriMo. And that got me thinking. If structure is what I need and my inner critic is my worst enemy then what better solution than to crank out 50,000 words in 30 days?

They don't even have to be good words (what matters with Nano is quantity over quality).
And before I know it, November will be over and I will have a whole bunch of words on paper.

Sounds like fun, right? Right?

S. is joining me, as part of the NaNo Young Writers' Program. I'm very pleased.

something else i've been up to

This blanket is called the "Curve of Pursuit" and was designed by Pat Ashforth and Steve Plummer of Woolly Thoughts:

"The design is based on the curves that are formed if four dogs set off to chase each other from the corners of a field. The path created by each dog is an equi-angular spiral."

Mine was made in the colours of one of my favourite dogs and was gifted to her humans.

I am very happy with how this turned out and proud of my persistence. It looked kind of funny in the beginning and I almost gave up. I'm so glad I didn't; even if it did mean I spent much of July with a wool blanket across my lap.

If you're on Ravelry, you can check out the details, here.

free to a good home (part 2)

A few weeks ago, I wrote that I had an almost new prosthesis that I was seeking to re-home. This is what happened next:

Julia consulted other directors of Breast Cancer Action, who suggested that there might be a program to send prostheses to developing countries. She also called the social worker at the cancer centre who told her that Canadian Cancer Society takes donations (1745 Woodward Dr., Ottawa, ON K2C 0P9. 613-723-1744). I am so grateful to her for doing this.

Throws Like A Girl , who is part of our group at Mothers With Cancer, suggested that we need "a prosthesis relocation program."

Imstell jumped in with the following:

"Maybe we [Mothers With Cancer] could just host a bulletin board where people could post their needs:

FREE TO GOOD HOME Single 36C teardrop prosthesis. Likes to travel. You pay shipping.

WANTED swimming prosthesis. Any size large enough to hide my belly.

These had me laughing out loud but I think we might actually get something like this going.

Finally, Christine told me that she has a friend who lives locally, who was in need of a new prosthesis. It turned out to be a perfect fit.

Thanks to all who commented here, via email and on Facebook. You made me laugh. And you made me feel good about the power of community.

We are off to the maritimes tomorrow (if all goes well-it's a two-day drive with two kids and two dogs). I may be offline until August 12. I feel the withdrawal pangs starting already.

free to a good home

It's not the kind of thing I'd want to advertise on Craigslist or Kijiji.

I can't set it out on my front lawn and hope someone takes it away.

I doubt the Canadian Diabetes Association or the Ontario Federation for Cerebral Palsy would want it as part of their drive to collect use goods for re-sale.

But I have a perfectly good prosthesis, worn only a handful of times that I'm sure someone could use, even if it was wrong for me (and I have replaced it with another one I don't seem to be wearing much).

The government covers about two thirds of the cost of a new prosthesis. That balance must be prohibitive for many who don't have private insurance to take care of the rest.

How do I find someone who can use it though?

Maybe someone at Breast Cancer Action would know.

Of course, I could always use my prosthesis to make art, the way Jacqueline did.

I think my inclinations might be a little more violent, though.

Thoughts?

isn't this lovely?

I'm still feeling crappy, so I thought I would share something that really makes me smile.

I met Claudia at the 2009 Conference for Young Women Affected By Breast Cancer. Every time I saw her, she was wearing a very different and very funky hat.

This one, made from coffee filters was one of my favourites:




When Claudia was diagnosed with breast cancer, she launched the She Arts Project: "a collaboration with 30+ Artists with photographs from Meg Luther Lindholm."

The photographs eventually became part of an travelling exhibit. You can see more of them here.

I love this kind of thing.

random: rubble, reading, rabbit, reunion.

1. The long week end looms and it promises to be a busy one around here.

We are hosting a secular Passover seder for 22 people. At the moment, you can't actually see the top of the dining room table around which most of us will be sitting. We have a ways to go before we are ready. Denial is a wonderful coping mechanism.

My sister and I both married Jewish men, despite being raised in the Catholic Church. My spouse and his brothers all married shiksas (we are reclaiming the derogatory term). We do Passover and Easter (otherwise known as "chocolate rabbit day" or "the one day every year that my kids eat chocolate for breakfast").

On Sunday, the Easter Bunny will be setting up the egg hunt at my spouse's brother and sister in law's house. I'm pretty sure the Bunny will remember to drop off some loot here, too.

2. It seems I have a lot of reading to do.

I have book reviews I need to write for Library Thing and for the Harper Collins First Look Program.

I also have stacks of unread books.

But every time I see or read about a book that might be interesting, I order it from the library. I usually do a pretty good job of making sure that most of these requests are "inactive" so that everything doesn't come in at once.

I forgot to check for a few days (this is really unlike me, I tend to be obsessive about anything involving lists). I now have 24 books ready for pick up and another 45 in transit. I also have 13 already checked out. I think I might be in trouble.

3. Yikes!

I am stressing myself out writing this post. Really, library books, unfinished knitting projects and the novel outline I haven't touched since New Year's Eve shouldn't be stressing me out.

4. After my last post, my mom and my sister have both told me that I am motivating them to re-commit to exercise.

I think that's so cool.

5. One of my Ottawa friends is going to deliver a copy of my book to a friend in Uruguay.

How cool is that? CR has been a friend for many years and we worked together for a while (in the possibly carcinogenic building). CG was my college room-mate 24 years ago and we have recently re-connected.

CR and CG are going to hook up and take a picture together. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am about this.

Going to go walk the dogs, drop off the book and, if there's time start to clean up the house.

Wish me luck.

And have a great week end.

unrelated

photo: J. Sussman

"It is one of the ironies of the creative life that while drama is part of what we make, it has almost no place in how we make it."

Julia Cameron
Walking In This World.

asymmetry at the songbird branch

I have a post up at The Songbird Branch (a blog started by the brilliant Jacqueline) about my attempt to knit an asymmetrical sweater for my asymmetrical body.

Go check it out and the really beautiful items that have been found and made for the post-mastectomy body.

re-writing a novel in 140 characters

Peter Sagal, the host of NPR's Wait...Wait Don't Tell Me! (yes, I am a big nerd. And so is my spouse. My son listens to podcasts of the show on his ipod) has started a meme.

He is encouraging folks to write Twitter-length versions of novels. For those who don't know about Twitter (or can't be bothered to sign up), every "tweet" must be no longer than 140 characters. Sagal came up with a Twitter version of The Grapes of Wrath:

"Times are hard. Sister breast feeding homeless guy. I am so outta here."

You can read more examples here.

Here's mine:

"Ambitious mothers are annoying. Nice girls marry well. Loose girls get trapped. Colin Firth smolders on."

See? (That's Pride and Prejudice, by the way).

Want to play? If you tweet, then be sure and add the hashtag #twitternovels. If not, feel free to just leave your mini-novel in the comments.