Winter's Worth

It's half past spring and time to be busy again. The winter was a lovely time to slow down and rest a little. I've learned I need to prioritize if I want to be active and not crashing from exhaustion. This means I had to give up a few things like my art classes at the high school... and dance. Prioritizing isn't easy.

This meant that other than spending time with our grandchildren and my parents, I mostly stayed in hibernation at the University of Colorado at Denver. I had done my research and the data had been promising. A great number of students are capable of sleeping in university classrooms. It was, of course, my intention to sleep as much as possible through the winter. It didn't work out so well.

The classes I chose were too interesting. No way could I sleep through them. Just so you know, in case you plan on following my example, here are two classes to avoid if you want to sit in a corner and sleep:

American Political Thought with Professor Thaddeus Tecza

Some people might mistakenly assume that any class talking about political thought would be boring. Even if it were possible to find such a class somewhere, discussing politics with Professor Tecza is anything (and everything) but boring. This was a 3 hour evening class and I still couldn't fall asleep. After the first 20 minutes, I stopped trying and started learning.

This was a challenging class as the group of students was, in many ways, a microcosm of our society. I learned just how paralyzing it can be for those who are so rigid in their thinking, they cannot consider anyone else's point of view. I also learned how paralyzing it can be if you insist on understanding and respecting every point of view without thinking critically about what you believe and why. This class may have ended, but the learning goes on.

Introduction to Creative Writing with Professor Eliot K. Wilson

Professor Wilson is too creative and funny to miss anything he has to say. Besides, he encourages students to bring food to share - food as in cookies, brownies, chocolate. By the end of the semester, I had eaten enough I could have gone into hibernation. He's also a demanding teacher. My blog readers (all three of you) will be grateful to know he has challenged me to write better. This is a humbling task. He gave us the tools. Now it's time to practice and practice - and read good poetry and short stories.

For class assignments, I often spent days carefully choosing the words for one line of poetry only to have the professor suggest tossing out the entire stanza. I doubt anyone would consider blogging to be great literature, but to be on the safe side, I didn't tell him about my blogs. 

What happens now? With spring and summer there is a lot of garden work to be done and places to go with the grandchildren. The senior auditing program is being revamped this summer, so I don't know what possibilities there will be in the fall. If at all possible, I plan on continuing with my studies. Maybe I can be the world's oldest college student some day.

When Novel Characters Go on Holiday

It's November, which is also called National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo, which is also called, How to Torture Yourself by Writing Fifty Thousand Words in Thirty Days or HoToYoWriFiThoWoThiDa. As a number of women in my author's group were joining in, I figured I would try it, too. It would be good practice for me and, who knows? Maybe I'll end up with one of those surprise successes and be the next J. K. Rowling.

First things first. I had to figure out what to write about. This didn't take too long. I went thirty-four years into my past and decided to write a novel based on my experiences working in a deaf/blind preschool. If nothing else, there were plenty of quirky characters involved. I remember the psychologist who came to the school to offer his advice and ended up talking mostly about the good old days when one could use electric shocks and other aversion techniques. It still makes me shudder.

Next? There wasn't really time to plan anything else. Suddenly it was November 1st and I had a word quota of approximately 1670 words per day over the next thirty days. I've learned a few things about writing in this way:

If you're working towards a word quota, always spell everything out. One thousand, six hundred and seventy counts as more words than 1,670. 

Don't go back and read what you wrote. You'll be tempted to delete something and that will take away from your word count.

Keep tea and chocolate on hand at all times.

Don't over think your writing. The characters sometimes just say what they are going to say. This is called, getting into the flow.

I was doing well with this until yesterday when one of my characters started to yawn. What's the matter, I thought, is my writing really so boring? He yawned again and I started yawning, too. It was contagious. I decided we all needed a day off. I announced this to my characters and let them know I would expect them back promptly the next morning. A couple of them cheered.

This isn't a new concept. I first learned of the secret lives of book characters when I read "The Eyre Affair" and "Lost in a Good Book", both by Jasper Fforde. The characters in these books travel around and generally do whatever they want to do at those times when they aren't needed for the story until page 178. 

If you haven't read these Thursday Next detectives stories, I would highly recommend them to anyone who enjoys intelligent literary humor and having your brain tied in knots while you try to figure out what's going on. Even if you read it just for the bookworms, who sometimes have digestive trouble and start farting apostrophes whi'ch make' eve'ry'one' tal'k li'ke thi's, you'll be glad you did.

Anyway, it got me thinking about the characters in my story. I decided they needed a break just as much as I did. It paid off. They were all back and ready to go to work today. Nobody yawned. I didn't ask them where they went or what they did. I figured it was their time and their business.

We're definitely back in the flow.

Why I Write

One of my least favorite classes in high school was the required Essay Composition course. As our school was very large, these required courses were always full. There were somewhere between 100 and 120 students in my essay class. We sat in alphabetical order, which meant I sat right behind my sister. She was a year ahead of me and got A's and B's on each paper, while I had straight C's.

There wasn't anything personal in this class. The teacher lectured to the entire group, then assigned our work. She didn't even read the papers herself, but had professional paid graders reading them. If it hadn't been for an amazing poetry teacher, my writing may not have ever gone beyond grocery lists and notes to the parents in my kindergarten class.

I never planned to be a writer.

After I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in 2007, I began journaling to help process this new challenge in my life. At the same time, I had a friend who was helping me to see the humorous side of everything in life, especially our challenges. This led to a few crazy articles which another friend showed to my neurologist. Eventually, I put them altogether in a blog www.studiofoxhoven.com. I was still self-conscious about my writing and so my blog, or journal, was hidden in the middle of my website about art, craft work, and teaching.

Though, to me, having a blog is mostly just a place to store my writing in case my computer crashes, I've had a few letters from other people with Parkinson's disease or other challenges write lovely letters to me, telling me how inspired they were by my articles.

Last summer, something else happened and this has sent me on a new path. A friend of mine does a lot of volunteer work in Nepal. Through him, a young woman contacted me and asked me to write her story. She is one of the many women who were forced into prostitution as a child. How could I say no? She sent audio recordings to me, telling me her story in her broken English. I listened and spent a lot of time researching her country. The result is a short biography in a simple prose/poetry style. The profits from the book, Ishwori, go directly to this lovely young woman in Nepal.

As soon as Ishwori was being printed, a young woman from Kazakhstan contacted me and asked for help telling her story. Then, a young man from Uganda contacted me, again, asking for help with his story. These two will do much of the writing themselves, but what a privilege it it to work with these young people and hear their stories!

The internet has given writers an opportunity to practice writing and share our work. This is a fascinating time to be a writer. Through the internet we can connect with people all over the world. I can have Facebook friends who live in a shack village in Kathmandu. Through the internet, one friend taught me to speak some Nepali.

My diagnosis of Parkinson's disease has not limited my life, it has given me the motivation to write and has stretched my world to include many more people than I ever imagined knowing. It was also challenged me to constantly improve my writing.

In the process, I've discovered something nice. I write because I really, truly enjoy it.

Not Bored Yet

It's been nearly three years since I asked the nurse practitioner about disability and was told that I was not disabled at all.  All I needed to do, according to this expert, was to stay at home and do nothing for six months.  After that, I would certainly be bored enough to want to get a part time job, maybe at a local library where I could get out and see people.

When I told my kids, they started laughing hysterically and my oldest son looked at me and asked, "Doesn't she know you?"

It's been nearly three years and I'm still waiting.  There are moments when I think a boring day would be nice.  I'm not fooling myself, though.  I can't imagine how my life would be without all my projects. 

Fortunately, my doctor didn't agree with the nurse.  She told me that people with Parkinson's disease come to a point in their lives when they can no longer be gainfully employed but that doesn't mean they can't be active.

I'm glad she said that because in the time I've been retired, I have taught a few art classes, written numerous articles, and created a website for my art work and writing, in addition to a few other odds and ends.  At the same time, I've become a mother-in-law and a grandmother.  Grandmothers have no reason to be bored.

I'm also on the yellow brick road.  That's what I tell my dad when I visit and help take care of my mom, who has dementia.  "Don't worry, Dad," I say, "we'll go down this road together, one yellow brick at a time."  It's a challenging road for all of us, but the tremendous gift has been the chance to really get to know my dad.  He has a wicked sense of humor!

Dad's never been bored, either.  At 85, he finally decided he won't go up on the roof anymore and he willingly lets my husband or son mow his lawn.  I did get a little worried today, though.  When I checked in with him, he said he had called the plumber to fix the leak in the shower instead of trying to fix it himself.  Of course, he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease a few months ago.  Maybe it's time he can slow down, just a little.

If he gets bored, maybe I'll suggest that he find a part time job at a local library.