Writer's Block

On literary birthing

lskomal — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 12:57:12 +0000

Now that the magazine is on the presses, I can breathe a sigh of relief. As the editor of this new magazine, HOPE, produced to educate the population about SMIs (serious mental illness), I have found the journey is similar to that of finishing one of my books or some other intense writing project. It really is a birth. The gestation period is filled with concerns and all kinds of second guessing. The final days leading up to the delivery date are peppered with nervous anxiety and worries that something will go wrong. The anticipation and expectation crescendo as the moment arrives when one gets to view the culmination of all that preparation. The only thing missing is the physical pain. That I don’t miss.

Drama Mama

lskomal — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 12:58:05 +0000

I grew up watching soap operas. My mother and grandmother watched them regularly, and I got involved in multiple story lines at the tender age of 10. I don’t have the chance to watch them now, but I do keep up once in a while, just to see how things are unfolding in the fictitious towns of my youth. What I have found over time is that soaps have served a solid function in my life, even if only to drape a backdrop of comparison and hence an element of humor. There are several poignant lines that one of my oldest and closest friends and I rely on to give us perspective in life. “Oh, grandmother, why does life have to be so hard?” And, “It’s just more than I can bear.” Whenever our lives get to the point of overload, we email or call each other and inevitably, one of these phrases will be repeated. They have carried us through some tough times. And you know what, kept a smile on our faces. Because no matter how hard life is here on this planet in real time, it pales in comparison to life in Pine Valley.

Back from vacation

lskomal — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 21:33:09 +0000

And wondering why I went. I tried to write my column while I was away, but it was very difficult. Not because I am lazy or was lacking column fodder. It was because I was in a very confusing and essentially sad situation that I had a hard time processing. But on the way home, I let my son drive and I put pen to paper. It helped to work through my complex emotions. I often forget how much the sheer act of writing helps bring clarity. Someone recently told me that when you are in the creative flow–writing, creating art, playing music–it has the same effect on your state of being as praying. Apparently, the brain waves during those endeavors mirror that of meditation and prayer. This appeals to me.

Luck…and addendum

lskomal — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 13:02:44 +0000

Every month on the very first day, I try to remember to say, “Rabbit, Rabbit” first thing before I get out of bed. Someone in college told me to do this and I forget why. But Wikipedia states, “Rabbit rabbit white rabbit” is a common British superstition. The most common modern version states that a person should say “rabbit, rabbit, white rabbit”, “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” or simply “white rabbits” upon waking on the first day of each new month, and on doing so will receive good luck for the duration of that month.” “Rabbit, rabbit,” I said softly when I opened my eyes yesterday morning, August first, pleased I was finally able to remember. I didn’t feel especially lucky, but I was in fine spirits. Later that day, my husband and I watched “Alice” the Tim Burton version of “Alice in Wonderland” and noted the white rabbit in his tiny waist coat plus the crazy hare. When it was finished, I went into the bedroom to grab a sweater as we planned to sit outside just as the sun was low in the sky before dusk. Then I saw him: A three-eared rabbit right outside our bedroom window. He was just sitting there nibbling on the lawn. Then he looked up and stared at me for a very long time. I called to my husband, who I suspect is a rabbit-whisperer, and said, “Translate this rabbit for me.” He stood there for a few minutes and said, “He’s here for you, not me.” Thanks. I can’t speak rabbit. What’s it all mean?

Themes revisited

lskomal — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 13:37:51 +0000

After writing my column for over 10 years–12 to be precise–I have found that revisiting the same themes is part of my process. It’s tough to come up with completely different topics week after week, year after year. I have never missed a column deadline in that time, though there was one mishap back in 2003 when it did not run because of a miscommunication between me and my editor. And there was a period of time when I was writing two columns a week because it was running in two different newspapers. And during my salad days, I was also writing a column for a website as well as writing an additional column for our own newspaper. So even though the math would indicate that I have written 624 columns, I would venture to say the number is closer to 1000. It only makes sense that themes would develop, along with my writing personality and my voice. The earlier columns were much more verbose and there was an obvious effort to be funny, if not hilarious. I have abandoned that idea since I am not a comedian. But I do try more often than not to be humorous and clever and once in a while, philosophical. Politics are avoided as is organized religion. Other than that, the best way to describe what I do is to say I write about everyday life and the themes I see emerge through them. I guess. This week’s discussion about luck has been written about before because it fascinates me. If I were to compile all the columns in one book, the themes would include the meaning of life, birth and death, family and food, motherhood and daughter-hood and miscellaneous stupid stuff. All in that order.

It’s how you say it.

lskomal — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 11:47:41 +0000

None of us speaks in complete sentences. Writing down what people say and how they say it is part of what I do for a living. It is part and parcel of being a journalist. In fact, after doing so for almost 30 years, I have gotten quite good at writing very quickly, thanks to my own shorthand and nimble fingers. Most veteran reporters develop the same skill set. Now that I am editing a magazine again, I have encountered an interesting dilemma with my copy editor. He’s a former editor himself and handles the copy editing for the magazine single handedly–and he is quite good. A cracker jack grammarian and stickler for punctuation and correct syntax, he is a vintage, old school line editor. Problem is: we come from different schools when it comes to quotes. He never worked for a daily newspaper, where one of the top five commandments is though shalt not change a person’s quote. I was almost in shock when I read the changes he was making to the articles I was sending him. Very neatly, he worked his way through myriad quotes, cleaning up subject-verb agreements (a frequent problem in everyday speak), breaking sentences in two and losing dangling participles. While he had been trained that cleaning up quotes was completely kosher because it made the speaker sound more educated and less like a babbling dope, I was aghast. Simple truth is: The more you change the quotes to fit accepted grammatical rules, the more everyone sounds the same. And in that, the quotes don’t reflect the voice of the person and his or her expression, but merely a vehicle for packaging information. We still don’t agree on this, but as he genteelly pointed out in his final email to me, “You da boss.” Shouldn’t that be, “You are the boss?”

Getting on with it

lskomal — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 11:29:21 +0000

The best advice an old mentor gave me was to touch your writing every day. In other words, don’t let a day go by when you aren’t working on your craft. Even if it is just a word or sentence. Thoughts don’t really count. I have been thinking about this a lot lately because I haven’t been following that advice. I just think about it. And that’s why I know ‘thinking’ doesn’t take the place of putting words on paper…or tapping sentences out on the screen. And I miss it. Other obligations have pushed into the space that used to be my writing space. And while I know that is an excuse, I wonder if it’s a good one. So today, I promise you, I will go back to the grindstone and work the wheel. Even if it is for just a few minutes.

Life is what happens…

lskomal — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 12:18:19 +0000

while you’re busy making other plans. Didn’t John Lennon have that spot on. It takes a death to stop. When Bear died June 14, I stopped. I had to. I was too overwrought not to. Hell, he was only a dog, but no longer having him in my day-to-day routine left an emptiness I couldn’t fill. I still can’t walk through the garage without glancing over to his water bowl for fullness–a subconscious habit I doubt I will ever kick. I am not one who loves domesticated pets. I don’t visit zoos. I rarely allow my friend’s animals to nuzzle me. I am not a cold person; I just don’t cotton to animals. But I do respect them. And have always taken my responsibilities as a pet owner very seriously. Just take a glance at my vet bills. And now, having lost our 14 plus year companion, I see he has given me one last gift–that of perspective and insight. Or in Eckhart Tolle speak, realizing the power of now.

On Death

lskomal — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 12:03:26 +0000

Writing about the painful losses of our lives ain’t easy. But it’s what I like to do best. Maybe it’s my own macabre fascination with the human experience, especially the dark side. Adding layers of words to feelings that others shun is highly appealing to me. Part of the lure is the challenge. I like to be challenged when I write and human emotions provide one of the last frontiers for me. One of the book projects I am tackling is the loss of a child. While many I have presented the idea to find it depressing and untouchable, I feel compelled to forge ahead for those very reasons. The topic needs to be broached and thoroughly discussed. I have not given up. The book is in a kind of hazy Purgatory for the time being, waiting for salvation.

You know you’re getting old when….

lskomal — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 14:25:06 +0000

Television commercials cease to make sense to you. Lately, my husband and I have been commenting on the number of spots on television that leave us confused. Not only do we not know what the product or service is they are selling, we also don’t understand the commercials at all. The result has been, like old curmudgeons kvetching about the good old days, we find ourselves complaining to each other and scratching our collective head. I remember when I was much younger and used to listen to my grandparents (both sets) whine to each other about the state of deterioration that the world had fallen into. I recall thinking to myself then, “If I ever sound like them, then I know I am getting old.” I have been on the lookout ever since. And I have to say, the other night, we were both on the verge of it. Yes, we have taken our first step toward not understanding the world around us and therefore officially entering a stagnant mindset. I suspect it is a slippery slope.