Fishes, Bicycles, and the Uterus

I went to High School long after Roe Vs Wade.  Long after women fought for equal rights in the workplace.  Long after Gloria Steinem talked about fishes and bicycles.  By the time my body was able to bear children, I had received a message loud and clear: children are an anchor, a curse, a foolish choice.  Children keep you from rising above minimum wage.  Children end your future.

Unless you have a baby.

I was told I could do anything- pushed on, propelled forward, and encouraged in every way.  The pressure to fly high was so intense that sometimes teachers would insinuate (unknowingly) that my Mother had somehow failed at life because she worked at McDonald's.  "Go to college; you don't want to wind up flipping burgers when you're 40!"

So when I found out I was pregnant (surprise!) at 20 (having been married almost a year), I was TERRIFIED.  There were moments of excitement, but I mostly felt that I was hurtling forward into an adventure I had not chosen.  My stomach was a ticking time bomb of doom.  When we announced our news, I got weepy messages of support as though I'd let the world know I'd been diagnosed with a terminal illness.  I got condolences instead of congratulations.

The first year was a kicker.  LOL  It's been five years (and two babies) since then.  My husband and I are the proud parents of three adorable, frustrating, sometimes slimy, children.  They are wonderful.  And I don't feel done.  When I discuss the fact that I don't feel done, I get a wide variety of reactions- but everyone thinks I'm crazy.  Just the other day I told a good friend that we were saving up for a van "just in case" and she replied "God forbid!"  When did we get so supportive of a woman's right to choose that we stopped supporting a woman's right to choose children?  Because nearly all my friends are Christians (the liberal to conservative pendulum swings wildly, but we all love Jesus here).  And they nearly all agree I'm crazy.

I remember how I thought of children before I had my own.  What would I say to young Jamie (the Jamie who had perky boobs and free time ;) )?  They are worth it.  Every Mother will tell you that, so I won't go into detail, but they truly are.  And the experience is worth it.  Not because of the sweet moments, or the parental victories ("Jack, would you like to come into our room and play with me?" "Yes, please!"), but because of the sacrifices.  No other experience has ever revealed so many weaknesses, or brought to light so many strengths.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." -Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

They left that part out when they were telling me I could do anything.  I don't know what my point is here, this may just be a rant that lays dusty in a neglected pocket of the internet, but I just wish I could tell young Jamie this.  That this is the main event of my life.  Will I finish my book?  I certainly hope so.  Will it be the end of the world if I don't?  No.  Because this, this mothering thing, is the story of my life.  There may be a time when I do feel done.  When I can take up the charge to greatness and make something else, but I'm done declaring that I'm "more than 'just' a Mother".  I'm done trying to parent while stuffing down feelings of guilt that I'm not doing something "more" with my life.  I'm not going to pay dues to the goddesses of feminism in return for a miserable existence.  My life is little.  It's messy.  And the budget is kinda squeaky.  But I'd be an absolute fool to trade this for a dream in which it's all about me.  Because the more I sacrifice for the life we're living now, the happier I am.  And maybe that's what the naysayers fear, really.  Not the snot or poop or sleep deprivation.  The sacrifice.

He regrets nothing.

I did not choose this adventure, but God did.  And he knew what I needed.  The more I listen to him, and the more I trust in him, the happier I am.  Right now my prayers and my questions are being answered with 'you're not done'.  So I'm not done.  (I tried to be 'done'.  We scheduled a vasectomy and everything.  It felt awful and it was incredibly depressing for both of us.)

None of this comes with judgment towards women who don't feel led to reproduce.  This is just me, thinking things through.  I know it's not for everyone, but I also know it is for me.  And it's just that simple.  You know what my biggest fear is?  It's not having four to watch, it's not the tight budget, or the late nights or the fear of another fussy baby (though that does sit in second place!).  I'm afraid that we won't have any friends.  I'm scared that in spite of the Bible touting the blessings of children, and in spite of all the verses about going where he leads, my Christian friends will not see past our culture.  If they can't, if they think I've gone off the deep end, I'll miss them.  It'll hurt.  But it certainly won't be worse than ignoring what I really feel God is telling me.  So, folks, I'm excited.  I'm excited to be blessed with fertility (we're scary fertile, yo).  I'm also scared.  But I'm tired of feeling like I can't share this big thing with brothers and sisters in the Church without getting judgment like crazy.

So, goodbye feminism.  Hello, minivan.  It'll be fun!  :)

Roll for initiative,
J. Wahl

The Turtle of Torture

Once upon a time, (in our galaxy) I was able to consistently write every day.  The scenes unfolded at a not-so-fast, but tolerable pace.  I was trucking along.  And then, something changed.  I didn't know what it was for sure (there is at least one blog post about it).  Something was off.  Progress became slower, and each writing session was more torturous than the last.    I dreaded sitting down at my computer.  The pace came to a near-stop.  A turtle pace.  The turtle of torture.

Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

My good friend Joe tried to help by working out the details of my plot with me.  And it did help.  I could see it better, but something was missing or in the wrong place.  I was dissapointed that I couldn't push past whatever this was.  I took everyone's advice and put the whole thing away for a while.  The idea was my brain would come back to it on it's own.  So I busied myself with other things (I got a lot more cleaning done).  I learned how to cook vegetarian cuisine.  I had a baby.  I started a mural business.  And as the time passed, I grew anxious that my brain would never circle back around to the book.  The dreams I had of finishing it, and of publishing it, faded into memory.  

Then, Saturday night, I was watching a movie and sending emails when the answer just popped into my head.  It had been nearly a year.  A.  Year.  It had been months since my book had even crossed my mind (besides the occasional ten-second bought of intense guilt).  "Surprise, Jamie!  Here's that thing you'd been looking for!"  I like my brain's surprises (much better than the surprises you get while attempting to work on a computer running windows 8).  

And just in time for National Novel Writing Month!  

So I will now read through my notes, read through my 160 pages in Word, get excited, and WRITE 50,000 in one month LIKE A BOSS!

I'm looking forward to it.  

I hope all your projects are free and easy!

Roll for initiative,

J. Wahl

The Thing I Can't Procrastinate

Well, lovelies, she's here!  The one thing that I never have found a way to procrastinate doing (giving birth): Penelope Jane was born fat and happy.  She will be two months old tomorrow and life has pretty much settled down; we seem to have found a sort of rhythm.  The transition to three was MUCH smoother than the transition to two.  Her birth has given me renewed motivation not only in regards to writing, but to how I live my life.  No one likes everything about themselves, and I want to point out that this is not coming from a place of perfectionism, but I don't want her to grow up a gloomy gus.  So Imma haf to stop being a gloomy gus.  Because children watch.  And they mimic.

Therefore, my focus has shifted away from writing and to the very heart of the problem: I declare war on procrastination.  The first battle is a list: a list of all the still-pertinent tasks that I have been procrastinating (because if I went back and included every unfinished task and project from my whole life the list would be longer than Santa's).  Some are small, some are tiny, some are gargantuan, and many of them are already done.  Checked off the list!  Completed!  Destroyed!  Man.  It feels good.  Think of a cheesy cliche about weights being lifted and/or feeling lighter.  Got one in mind?  It applies here.

Mozzerella cheese

Imagine how great it'll feel when it's my book that's checked off the list!  To that end: I solemnly swear to write every night from 7:30 - 10:00.  Not plot.  Not dream.  NOT SURF THE WEB.  Write.  Imma does it.  Imma does it good.

And when the writing is done I'll edit from 7:30-10:00.  And when that's done I'l edit again.  After that I'll do some re-rewrites, followed by more editing.  I will accept that this is going to take a long time.  I will persist or stop complaining.  Or, as my Father would say: "Crap or get off the toilet."

decisions, decisions....

"Children do what feels good. Adults devise a plan and follow it." -Dave Ramsey (AKA the putrescent fellow who won't let me remodel my bathroom)

Yeah.  Imma does it.

I hope your creative endeavors are going swimmingly!

Roll for initiative,
J. Wahl

Introducing....

My book!

No.  It's not completed.  ;)  But here are some visualizations that I've done to help motivate myself.  I have been working hard at turning my boxes of notes (written on note cards, napkins and crumpled notebook pages) into one notebook of thoughts on the subject.  I had forgotten how much I liked my characters and how hard I've worked on the plot!  I had even forgotten about these sketches!  I'm smert not stoopid.

I have a fantastically talented graphic design friend who has generously offered to do a better job (I don't like how my name is so huge, but balance-wise it was my only solution- and it needs color: his sneakers, for example, should be green), but here is my simple visualization of my book cover:

And here is a sketch of the lovely and tricksy vampire, Bell:

And Michael's dream girl, Charlotte:

I am terrible with the technologies and couldn't get the scanner to work for either of these two leading ladies, so I must apologize for the picture quality.  My bad.  I'm still excited, though!

I am actually going to write a scene tonight!  It's going to happen.  Unless I go into labor.  That's slightly more important.  But even so, it's going to happen soon!

I'm legitimately excited about this project for the first time in nearly a year.  Woohoooo!  I hope your creative endeavors are going swimmingly!

Roll for initiative,

J. Wahl

p.s.

If you haven't yet, please 'like' me on facebook!  I always read requests for likes or follows in Bill Murray's voice: "Gimme, gimme, I need, I need, I need!"  Oh well.

Mine!

       

Lately when I sit down to write-- who am I kidding?  I don't even get that far-- lately when I think about sitting down to write, a very anxious feeling sets in almost immediately.  That is a super big bummer.  But I think I have figured out why it is happening.  I have written all the scenes that are clearly formed in my mind.  I am proud of the half-novel's worth of scenes that I have completed, but the half remaining- the unwritten ones- are kind of a gray area of only half-formed ideas without endings.  So when I sit down to write now it feels...out of control.  That's not a feeling I like.  I am, apparently, not willing to lose sight of the shore.  I've lost the bravery required to forge ahead in this particular endeavor.  The following picture sums up how I feel about sailing into uncharted waters (AKA losing control of the project and letting something spontaneous and wonderful happen):

Incidentally, that is also a visual approximation of how I look when I force my pregnant self out of bed in the morning.  

I hope a day comes when I just get so mad about feeling scared to venture forth into the unknown that I stop being scared.  Because it really seems as though it should be that simple.  Maybe it isn't (or ever will be) but that's how it feels right now.  I have started to be randomly inspired and sent off on a mental tangent of character development again (which is how nearly all of the plot and characters formed previously).  One thing is for sure, writer friends, I am NOT a pantster!  No writing by the seat of the pants for me.  No. I need clear and defined scenes with everything but the dialogue ready to go.

I must share (as I have decided I should do since this is 'real time progress of a writer who cannot finish anything') that since my last post, I have written three pages.  *cue the infamous 'wawawa'*  Three pages in a month.   At this rate I'll be done...well after my expected life span.

I hope your projects, whether writing related or not, are going swimmingly.  If any of you lovely folks have any tips on letting your brain function in a way that allows for the organic, innovative, and superbly fun growth of a project, please let me know.  ;)

Roll for initiative,

J. Wahl