What a picture is worth

me & my snowcat (photo by vivienne mcmaster)

I adore this photo that my friend Viv took of me last month. I love it because this one little image is packed with reminders of the good things in my life.

See those rings peeking out from the handwarmer on my left hand? My ten-year wedding anniversary is this autumn. There was a time when I didn't know if we'd make it this far. Now, I'm looking forward to the next ten (and beyond), which doesn't seem all that long anymore.

The handwarmers themselves remind me of the ways I've been working to make my outside match my inside. It's not that a new wardrobe or hairstyle makes me any better than I was before, it's just that finding a style that feels authentic and true to me makes me happy, more comfortable in my own skin.

My Diana F+ camera, in the adorable Snowcat edition. For years I wanted an analogue camera, even before Lomo grabbed the world by its sprockets. But I put off buying one, worried that I wouldn't know how to use it and wouldn't take the time to learn. I told myself an old story about how I'm not good with mechanical devices and how I have no patience for learning such things. I worried that I wouldn't be able to get the film developed locally and that I would hate the pictures I took. And then I finally let my desire overcome my doubts and fears. I never did find a good local lab here in the suburbs, so I send out most of my film. It's a minor annoyance. But you know what? I love my Diana photos. For the first time in my life I'm creating art in a medium other than words that I actually like. It feels good.

If you look very closely, you can see the red-striped strap of my Cannon Rebel camera slung around my neck. In about a year I went from being a girl with an old Kodak point-and-shoot to one who carries around a Diana and a DSLR, which I like to call my first "big-girl" camera. I know it's the low-end of DSLRs, but it's all kinds of fancy for me, the girl who thought she didn't have the patience or skill to learn how to use new equipment or take better photos.

I was standing on a cold, winter beach in Manzanita, Oregon, when Viv took this picture. For most of my life, the Pacific Northwest was nothing more than a faraway dream. In the past two years, I've been there four times. I love it even more than I thought I would.

I wasn't planning to take my brown, down-filled winter coat to Manzanita, but I changed my mind when the forecast told of a freak Arctic blast streaking into Oregon. I bought this coat for my winter trip to Vermont, where Arctic-like blasts are the norm. I go to Vermont for school, for my MFA in writing program, a program that is exactly what I needed for my writing and my writing life. I'm so glad I followed my gut and said yes to that big dream. (Graduation is this summer!)

I was in Manzanita to be a mentor at Pen & Paper: A Be Present Retreat, my first time teaching in-person. What a treat to share and learn in that gathering of creative souls. I don't always know what to think of myself in this newish role of teacher, but interactions like the ones in Manzanita (and with my online students), make me feel humble and honored and happy to do this work. 

That this photo exists at all is a reminder of my friends -- my amazing, beautiful, talented friends who are lights along my path, integral parts of my creative journey, companions in all things happy and sad. It's not that I was ever friendless, but I went through a lonely and isolated time as many of my old friendships faded away through time, distance, and the natural cycles of life. Seeing myself through a friend's eyes like this makes me grateful for my friends old and new, near and far.

That's a lot of story tucked into one image. I'm thankful for all of it.

** ** **

Viv knows a thing or two about capturing stories in images. She shares her knowledge and heaps of encouragement in her amazing online classes. Registration is now open for Wading In: Dipping our Toes into Self-Portraiture and You Are Your Own Muse. And her new class, called Swan Dive, is also on the horizon. Viv helps people to find their visual voice and personal beauty through photography and self-portraiture. If you ask me, photos like that are worth more than words can say.

Waving at you

seattle, december 2010 (diana f+, fuji pro 400x rxp-120 film)

Lately I come to this little square space of a text editor, and I freeze up. My instinct is to apologize for being so quiet here. I consider telling you how I feel both stretched thin and stuffed full from reading, researching, and trying to write offline. Or maybe, I think, I'll keep it simple: post a pretty photo and a nice little quote. Then the gremlins start up their chatter and I spend a few minutes thinking about what a lousy blogger I am. That's quickly followed by greminly comments on how I'm a mediocre housekeeper. For every day I go without posting, I begin to feel shame that is quite similar to what I feel about the baskets of laundry waiting (oh how long they wait!) to be put away.

Being a writer with a blog begins to feel like an occupational hazard. I pressure myself to tell you something deep and true every time I write here. But I know what I'd tell you if you told me the same thing. I'd say some supportive version of, "Chill out, dude." I might even, on a day when I'm feeling particularly cheesy, say, "Chillax!"

So this post is me chillaxin', keepin' it real, as the kids say. (Okay, I'm sure the kids don't really say that anymore. Did they ever?) This is overwhelmed, messy, out-of-sorts me. Not because of any large crisis or drama trauma, but because life is busy and hard in a run-of-the-mill way. Sometimes there's cat puke to clean out of the carpet. Sometimes the washing machine chucks water all over the basement. Sometimes your husband has a week off from work and you pretend to be on vacation, too, in-between reading three books, attending business meetings, and obsessing over upcoming deadlines. With all of that going on, it really is a pretend vacation. And then you start feeling whiney, wishing for a real vacation.

But even this pretend vacation has made it hard for me to stay connected online. Does anyone else find that difficult? The balancing of online life and in-person life? (To me, they're both real life.) It's a rhetorical question, really.

And so, this is me, giving you, my dear reader, a virtual wave. (I hate when authors in books say "my dear reader." Not sure why I'm okay with it on a blog.) I'll keep waving, in between the cleaning and the reading , the offline writing and the living. If you feel so inclined, I hope you'll wave back.

The truth is...

view from neahkahnie mountain (diana f+, fuji pro 400h)

The truth is, I don't always practice what I preach, or do what I teach.

The truth is, sometimes I avoid the page, the screen, the words -- anything that requires me to take a stand, make a point, hold an opinion.

The truth is, I believe writing to be a magical gift from the faerie gods of creativity, and I believe it to be a burden too heavy to carry. I also believe it's a fun romp through language. And something so sacred I live in daily terror of being unable to fulfill my duty (and honor) as its medium.

The truth is that I like to believe I'm comfortable with artistic contradictions, but they make me twitch and hide out under the (metaphorical and literal) covers.

The truth is, I spend a lot of time feeling overwhelmed and scared, not just about the amount of things to be done for a graduate degree, for a creative business, and for an everyday life, but also about the desire to live authentically and passionately.

The truth is, I don't write everyday, and I used to think this was a realistic choice, a simple matter of personal preference and the workings of my own creative process. But I've begun to suspect this will have to change if I want to go deeper.

Go deeper.

The truth is: That phrase scares me. But it's the advice my mentor is giving me about my writing. It's the whisper I'd already heard months ago from the still small voice of my muse. It's the same mantra the holy universe chants to me every time I ask for clear answers on who and what and how to be.

The truth is that I don't know how to go deeper. The truth is I don't want to go deeper. The truth is, I know going deeper is the only path available to me right now.

The truth is, I'm not laying it all on the line here. I'm skirting some issues.

The truth is, I tend to mix up the proper use of "lay" and "lie." Also, "effect" and "affect" cause me some consternation.

The truth is that technique and craft and practice will make you a better writer. But at a certain point, you have to dive off of that mountain and trust not just the power of your own arms, legs, and lungs, but also the direction and forgiveness of the current. (And the truth is that by "you," I mean "me.")

Perfect Landing

mexican restaurant, manzanita, oregon (february 2011)

Working away over here in my corner of the country after traveling back from the northwest corner a few days ago. The words aren't coming easily, despite the looming deadline. But I'm holding out hope that some of them will land just so and make something true. Most days, that all we can do.

Alchemy: Two new guests & a discount

Just a quick update on the next session of Alchemy: The Art & Craft of Writing.

First of all, register by Tuesday, March 1 (that's tomorrow) to save $30 off the regular course price.

Second, I'm thrilled to welcome these two new guests to the course.

Susan G. Wooldridge is a poet and author of poemcrazy: freeing your life with words (in a 21st printing!), Foolsgold: Making Something from Nothing and Freeing Your Creative Process, and Bathing with ants (poetry chapbook). Susan will share her thoughts on how we can play with language and imagery.

Cynthia Newberry Martin is a fiction writer and the Review Editor for Contrary. Both her first and second novels placed in the 2010 Pirate's Alley Faulkner Society William Faulkner-William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition: The Painting Story on the Short List for Finalists and Between Here and Gone as a Semi-Finalist. Her blog, Catching Days, was named as one of the "lit blogs we love" by Powell's Books. Cynthia will share her thoughts on the process of writing a novel and creating stories that connect with readers.

And third, I've tweaked the course content to work even better for writers at different experience levels. Each week includes core lessons and exercises to get you started, plus bonus materials that invite you to go deeper. This means that both beginners and more experienced writers will benefit from the course.

All of the details are over here, registration is here, and I'm here in case you have questions.