2008 December | Sarah Markley

Archive for December, 2008

Saturday December 20th, 2008

When I went to my writer’s conference in March of 2008, I was as much of a writing novice as a high school student in ninth grade composition.

I’d had a 10 year writing “silence” before I began blogging in July 2007 but I’d always looked at writing as my dream job. I thought that I couldn’t really become in a writer (seriously, who does that?), so I would teach school. When I quit my job as a middle school Language Arts teacher to become a mother,

writing was the furthest thing from my mind.

Forward 7 more years and I began blogging. It opened up a whole new medium for creativity for me and I haven’t stopped since.

The next logical step was to attend a writer’s conference that my friend invited me to attend. I took the “beginner” morning track which turned out to much less a beginner’s class but a fundamental, foundational, broad view of writing and publishing. It felt like a crash course in a journalism/creative writing degree smashed into 4 days.

At a writer’s conference when you meet people you don’t ask the normal, “So, what do you do for a living.” Because certain things are assumed. First of all, there are very FEW full time writers. (However I happen to know one). Most people have a real job and write in their spare time. So normal niceties aside, other writers cut right to the point: “So what kind of writing do you do?” Hmmm.

At that point, I’d only really been blogging and I didn’t have a baby-manuscript stuffed in my jeans pocket ready to unfurl to any agent walking by. At first I dreaded the question, because I really didn’t know. Possibly memoir, probably non-fiction and certainly not fiction. Not children’s literature and maybe devotionals, maybe not. I wasn’t sure. So I began answering the question in this way:

“Up to now I’ve just been blogging and I’m really here at this conference looking for direction. I know I love to write and I don’t think I’m horrible, so I’m here to see what options there are out there for a part time writer like me.”

The usual response would be something like, “What’s a blog?” (yes, there are still some out there) or “Hmm, so what do you REALLY write?”

By the time I left the conference I wasn’t ashamed to claim a novice-status at all, to fully agree that not only am I STILL learning, but I believe I’ve just begun down the road of writing. Its alright to be a beginner, especially when it comes to something I really love.

I’m a beginner. I’m a student of other writers, and those who teach how to be better at it. And I’m proud of it. Thank you, 2008, for letting me assert my position as a novice writer. Hopefully at next year’s conference I’ll have a better answer for the seasoned writers.

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Friday December 19th, 2008

I go through reading bursts in my life. Sometimes it comes when I have naturally more time built into the fabric of my day (summer vacation, plane trips, weekends away without kids).

Or sometimes it is just hunger.

Not for food (although a bowl of ice cream and a good novel on a summer evening do taste quite well together). But hunger for the written word.

My reading bursts seem to come when I am just famished for a good, well-crafted novel.

I’ve read more books this year than I think I might have in the past three years put together. Don’t judge me based on my reading list (this is just what has interested me this year in particular) but I’ve read Wiliam Zinsser, Phillippa Gregory (6 books), Alice Hoffman (3 books), Sue Monk Kidd, Anne Lamott (2 books), Kate DiCamillo, Danielle Steele (the one and only Danielle Steele book I have ever read), Brad Huebert’s new book, and I am currently working myself through Elizabeth Berg’s novels (3 so far). There was the Anne Rice memoir that I got from the libray, and the contemporary female Iranian literature I read for a time (including Azar Nafisi). I read The Shack and Cold Tangerines and others that I can’t seem to remember.

And I haven’t had more time than normal. In fact, I’ve had less. I’ve just been really hungry.

Perhaps the best thing that all of this reading has done for me has been to help me become a better writer. “Read as a writer, not a reader,” a wise writer told me once. Although I did speed through the Steele book (it was the only book available to me one weekend away) gathering up pieces of the story, most books I read add layers to me as a writer. I’m learning to study structure and characterization without even trying because I love to read.

I really believe that a person cannot become a good writer without being a wide and voracious reader first.

The cadence and flow of good words, grammar and punctuation, story lines that make sense, well-written descriptors, environments that are helpful to plot – all of these in good books stand alongside me and help my writing.

Read hungry. I’m learning to devour books.

What is the best book you have read in 2008?

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Thursday December 18th, 2008

I know this seems so simple.

But I am learning that sometimes its more than just a quiet house I need. I need a quiet mind.

Its easy to put the kids to bed at night, turn off all the lights and sit in relative silence. There is the cat bounding up the steps, the house settling, the dishwasher humming and the dryer buzzing the end of the cycle. To me, that is still a silent house.

But even that isn’t silent enough when it is difficult to turn off the noise in my brain.

This year, my husband and I have taken a couple “TV Fasts.” For one week (usually beginning Sunday) we don’t watch any television at all. We don’t watch a lot of TV as it is, but many nights we relax by watching movies or The Office or something like that.

Taking these fasts seems to help me quiet my mind. Because the world is loud and getting louder. Facebook, Twitter, IM, Blackberries, voice mails, blogs, emails, catalogs, magazines…its all INPUT. Sometimes, I want no input at all. There are times when it all seems like static.

Once in awhile I need to shut it all down and collect myself. Because I seem to lose myself in the noise. Quieting my mind helps me to locate ME.

I might retreat to a novel. Or retreat to my husband. Or just retreat to a quiet part of the house (my husband has to be willing to completely take over for this to work). I might even retreat to Starbucks. I retreat to running too (this is actually the quietest time of my life and I can’t seem to live long without it).

But I’m learning to regularly seek out quiet times, naturally built into my life or created. Either way, I need to quiet my mind and reduce the static. I’m learning that without it, I become too full of something else and lose the core of me.

How do you quiet yourself?

Written at 6:00 am · (7) Comments ·

Wednesday December 17th, 2008

P is for PRESENT. Not the gifts under the branches in 9 days.

But the gift of being Present in my own life.

The past is the past. I can’t reclaim it.

The future is a whole different story (didn’t Jesus say this too?).

But the Present, my today is mine.

Last week as I drove away from my house for an errand with my youngest, she suddenly remembered the balloon she had left at home. She began to scream and wail with all of the vocabulary she’s accumulated over the past three years and apparently all of the energy she’d accumulated since lunch. She fixated on it and wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t going to return home for it and figured she’d get over it and forget it.

She didn’t. She screamed for a full 25 minutes behind me in her carseat. Snotty face and red cheeks, she coughed and nearly choked before she gave in and fell asleep. She couldn’t even stop long enough to realize her favorite book was on her lap. She was too worried about what she’d left behind.

Naomi couldn’t just “let it go.” She decided to kick my seat instead.

And this dear sweet daughter who is coming up on three soon was too worried about the balloon she’d left at home and couldn’t imagine a future without it. She couldn’t live in her Present and just focus on the book sitting right in front of her.

Some remembering is good. Thinking about yesterday with fondness (not regret) can be hopeful. But focusing on what I failed to do or the mistakes I’ve made before is a bad thing. I can’t let last night’s unwashed dishes weigh on me. I just have to do them now, today, when I can.

Planning for tomorrow certainly has it’s benefits. Thinking about next week is usually a good thing. But if I let it turn into worry or a fixation then I will never be comfortable in today.

But there is freedom in living in the Present. If I’m not bitter about what has gone before and I’m not unhappy about what might happen, then I can be free to live today. The only way to truly cherish my family, listen to my friends, is to be here. Today. Present in the now.

I’m learning that life moves by much more quickly if I worry and forget that I am living today. I’m trying to live my days well. Today and not tomorrow or yesterday.

Do you have any “balloons” that keep you from living today?

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Tuesday December 16th, 2008

Open my heart.

Open my words.

Open up my eyes.

Open my mouth.

Open the world. My world. THE world.

I can’t focus this one. I know beyond know that my word for “O” is OPEN but, open what?

I’m learning to open my heart to the vulnerability and nakedness that is at the core. Timidly, slowly crack the gates of my own heart. I’m trying.

I’ve been opening up my words: writing regularly and letting the words come innately and as naturally as possible. Natural to me. To the way my brain is built. I am opening my words to write themselves.

Opening my eyes has been a theme for me over the past year and a half. Ever since I began to blog. I’ve had to open my eyes wider and let them watch the corners of my life closer. This has been a good year for open eyes.

Sometimes I close up, shut my mouth because for some reason I convince myself that what I have to say is only valuable in my own brain and once I release it from my body, my words will disintegrate. I’m learning opening my mouth is good practice for my writing. My words don’t disintegrate on paper, nor will they when I speak them.

I’ve been learning to open my mind up to the possibilities that the world is far bigger than I think it is. I’ve travelled a fair amount but haven’t come close to seeing a fraction of it. Even my little day to day world is far wider and deeper than I give it credit. I usually just see my SUV tank on empty, hear a sleep-deprived toddler give her sleep-deprived mother (me) an attitude in Trader Joes, and focus on the sheets I need to change in the girls rooms. I have trouble recognizing that along with these things, my world is also laughter and learning and grace and thoughtfulness and gratitude.

My world is becoming more open the more I open my heart and eyes to it.

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Monday December 15th, 2008

This one doesn’t fall into a letter.

If it did, I missed “C” for CUT by about 11 days.

My toddler cut her own hair while I took a shower this morning. She found the step stool from the bathroom, quietly scooted it up to the kitchen counter, reached up far back by the pencils and (apparently) scissors, and systematically cut the left side of her hair.

It could have been worse. She could have hurt herself or cut her scalp or something.

I admit I cried hysterically for about 10 minutes. Her blonde baby hair was in long pieces on the sofa and not attached to her head.

Oh, she also wrote on the TV screen with a crayon before she cut her hair off.

And I thought potty training this child was difficult. I didn’t account for scissors or pink crayons.

But what is done is done and I can’t do anything about it. Except for not leave her alone for a minute. And mabye invest in barrettes and hats for three year olds.

(Thank you, Tamara, for coming over to clean it up a bit.)

Written at 1:46 pm · (20) Comments ·

Monday December 15th, 2008

Nurturing a baby is easy.

Sort of.

Especially if you don’t count the first-time-mother frantic phone calls to the pediatrician about fevers or diaper blow-outs once an hour or acid-reflux medication being spit up and out and all over the clean onesie.

Infants simply need a dark place to sleep, a full tummy, a clean bottom and warm clothes. Other than that, if she is still screaming (like she did for most of 2002) then her problems lie elsewhere. No amount of hugging, holding, rocking, diaper changing will help at that point.

But to nurture, feed, nourish a baby, your baby, just hold her, sing to her, kiss her, carry her in your arms close to your body (your physical heart) whereever you go. Keep her on a somewhat consistent schedule. Make sure she eats well and enough and that her diapers are dry. Put clean, soft clothes on her and lotion on her skin after her bath. Do these things and she will grow. (She might still scream, but she WILL grow).

But how do I grow a little girl who is almost seven years old? She is much more complex than eating and sleeping. There are heart patterns to her. She has a sense of humor and a fragile set of young emotions. She needs more than soft clothes and lotion to keep her at peace.

I am just beginning to learn that nurturing my girls will be my life-long occupation. I will have to somehow teach myself how to nourish both the hearts and minds of my daughters in ways that are balanced and beneficial, but also in ways that are both spiritual and intuitive. Caring for them is much more complex than I had anticipated. It feels like I’m one of those people who spin the plates on those poles and there are like 50 plates all spinning at once.

I really don’t know how to do this. Often I just don’t know what she needs.

Sometimes I wish it was still as easy as covering her with a warmer blanket at night and not as heart-wrenching as watching a little heart that breaks because she wasn’t chosen for something. The days of baby food jars were easier than days filled with soccer cleats and packed lunches and playground heartache.

I am learning (slowly) how to be the nurturer of little girl hearts. And maybe, on the inside, little girl hearts are just grown up baby-hearts who simply need a full belly, a warm hug and a peaceful place to sleep.

Written at 6:00 am · (8) Comments ·

Sunday December 14th, 2008

Let’s just say its been a big year for me. In the friend-making department.

Because when I was in high school, I was pretty much a nerd. I still am to some degree. And I’ve always had difficulty making and keeping female friends. I’ve had close girlfriends move away or move on, and here I am: still in the same place.

If I look at all my friendships over my lifetime, ones I have kept and ones I still have, they all seem to cluster around two time periods of friend-making surges: The year I graduated high school I met a lot of kids at a Bible Study I am still friends with now. Add that to beginning college and I find that a lot of my friendships began in the fall of 1992. The second time period has been the past year.

And most of my recent friendships have been forged quickly and with meaning. That makes for both depth and strength.

I went to a writing conference in March and I met Annie, Linda, and Mel. There is something we share that I think each one of us will agree is unique.

I’ve met Mandy, Denise, and Cindy through blogging (not to mention friends like Tam, Natalie and Alece who have affected me more than they will ever know.) and I don’t think I’m the same person for it. And there are so many others. So many beautiful, strong, honest women who I am honored to know.

I’ve made a lot of new friends in 2008. And it’s stretched me, sharpened me, challenged me and humbled me. And its getting easier and easier to keep them. Maybe I’m just now growing up.

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Saturday December 13th, 2008

I’m learning to open my ears.

Its funny, because ears are always open. They aren’t like shuttable-eyes. They sit there on the side of my head open all of the time.

But I close them. I singly focus on a task and I close my ears. I don’t hear my husband trying to tell me about what his day will hold in the morning when I am trying to get the kids ready. I don’t hear my girls when I am trying to steal a half hour or so on the computer. I certainly don’t listen to anyone when I’m distracted by a whining little girl (or two).

Small things I don’t hear unless I take a minute to stop. Small words with big meanings uttered from toddler mouths sail right past me because I fill my brain (and my ears) with other things. I often don’t listen to the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) nuances that drift from my back seat after a long day at first grade.

I have to listen because one day my back seat will be silent. I may not wish back the whining, but I will miss the chatter and the laughter. I have to get this now or it will be too late.

Listen.

Listen to my daughters talk to each other. Listen to the fatigue in my husband’s voice. Hear my girls play in the back yard. Listen to the world alive and recognize it.

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Friday December 12th, 2008

I was mean today to the front desk guy at the gym.

I admit it. And then I went back and admitted it to him. He’s probably all of 19 years old and I came back to apologize. It wasn’t his fault that kids’ club girl decided to close an hour early. It wasn’t his fault that I had SOMETHING to say to the manager about how his health club was run. It just wasn’t his fault.

He just scans gym card barcodes.

So I sheepishly told him I felt like a jerk and I was sorry. He looked confused but smiled back anyway.

And then I realized that all the grace that I’ve been learning to extend just stuck its tongue out at me when I allowed my anger to overtake my kindness; as if I’d forgotten to be nice all of a sudden. Maybe my apology was too little too late, but I tried. I needed to.

I am learning how to be kind. Sometimes I can’t believe that I am almost 34 years old and I can still say unloving things to someone I don’t even know. Kindness is such a valuable commodity, but (unlike things like oil and gold) there is an UNlimited supply. Its there, always, ready to be used. Multiplied, even, if I use it well. Kindness breeds itself.

I know what words spoken in kindness do to my own heart. Sometimes when my husband and I argue and he doesn’t know how to resolve it and we are both beyond frustrated, I find myself wanting the simple kindness I know is inside him toward me. His kind words can heal and free me.

And my own words have an even greater effect on my own girls. I can make or break their tiny worlds by a single word. I can build up or break down their fragile souls.

So, teenage-guy-at-my-gym, I’m sorry. Publicly, I apologize. I will be kinder to you next time regardless of the circumstances. Bear with me please, I’m still learning.

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