At a gathering of the local branch of the Canadian Authors Association, the writers in the room wrote down words to describe the writing experience.
Out of that we created a Writing Word Cloud.
Terror, right above Bliss.
Mystical right in the middle of everything.
Fun not far away.
Elusive in there more than once.
Tranquility and Solace.
Hard work, Glass Wall, Escape.
Mindblowing, Universal, Wonder.
Words to describe the writing experience, certainly, and life in general.
I value volunteering so much, I made it part of my personal “slogan”: Laughing thinker, miner of inspirational insights, storyteller, and community volunteer.
Why? Because selfless giving slingshots a person smack dab into the centre of happiness. Go directly to happiness. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
Paradoxically, I give selflessly for selfish reasons. I want to be happy, therefore I give.
Not everyone gets the connection. Last year I chatted to an acquaintance about my work as treasurer of the Canadian Authors Association in the National Capital Region. “You volunteer?” she said, as though I had coughed up a lung and handed it to the organization.
“Yes,” I said, perplexed by her vehement reaction. “That’s only one thing I do. I volunteer a lot of my time. It’s very satisfying.”
At that moment, another friend passed by. She turned and said to him, “Did you know that Arlene volunteers.” There went my other lung.
He reacted like I thought he should: confused about why she should be so surprised. “O-o-o-k-a-a-y. That’s . . . good.”
I walked away shaking my head.
She doesn’t know what she’s missing. (And she’s often grumpy, I might add. Selfless giving would do her some good.)
In our household, over the years, we have volunteered at: play groups, day care centres, Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, hockey leagues, Little League baseball, the tennis club, community resource centres, L’Arche, SchoolBOX, Habitat for Humanity, the Jerry Lewis telethon, schools (elementary, middle and high), church, the Canadian Authors Association, Ski Patrol, World Vision . . . oh, I know I’m missing some. Last fall, my husband received the Queen’s Jubilee Medal in recognition of his career achievements and his commitment to amateur sport. Our household would fit into the category of what the Canada Survey of Giving, Volunteering and Participating (CSGVP) calls “über volunteers”.
We are a very happy household.
My friend volunteers for the Canadian Red Cross. He helped out after Hurricane Katrina. He went to Haiti for a month after the earthquake. He spent several weeks on the Jersey shore after last year’s hurricane. His mantra: “I get back so much more than I give.”
Amen to that.
Are you a stickler for grammar and punctuation? Do semi-colons make you smile, or scowl? How about exclamation points? Too many of them make me crazy!!!
On Tuesday night, our Canadian Authors Association group talked about critiquing. A few weeks before the meeting, the moderator of the group gave two of us a story to read, so we could prepare a constructive critique presentation for the meeting.
The author of the piece used semi-colons to structure parts of the story; some paragraphs consisted of several sentences (“independent clauses” snooty writers would call them) joined by semi-colons.
I like semi-colons; they solve many punctuation dilemmas beautifully. In this case I thought full-stop sentences would serve the story better. My opinion was not unanimous; some people love their semi-colons.
Our discussion on Tuesday brought to mind the post by Tom Gething, “Interview with a Semi-Colon”.
Punctuation marks elicit surprisingly strong reactions from people.
As with most things, I fall somewhere in the middle. One of my Facebook friends posts with no punctuation (and often no capitals) at all. Many times, it has taken me several tries to figure out what he’s talking about. We really do need punctuation to communicate clearly. But overall, I don’t stress about punctuation. Let a writer be a little creative, if that’s what feels right for him or her.
Well, okay, except for all those exclamation points. Please, people, if you must use one (and you’d be surprised at how often you don’t need to), just one will do.
Maybe you can play with the new Interrobang. That should keep you busy for a while.
Has your love, support and friendship made a difference to others?
Are you good with how you will be remembered?
According to Paul Copcutt, those are the questions we should really be asking ourselves.
A few years ago I attended a workshop on “Personal Branding” at a Canadian Authors Association conference. I was so engaged by the insights and the authenticity of the workshop leader, Paul Copcutt, that I signed up for his e-newsletter. I have received useful advice from him over the years about networking, branding and achieving goals. A little over a year ago, I became one of the people who shared distantly in the story of his cancer journey.
Last week, he published an article entitled “Why cancer is an integral part of my personal brand.”
He found that when lives take an unexpected sharp turn as a result of cancer, people ask themselves the three questions above. When people asking those questions don’t like the answers they come up with, they know they have to make some changes.
Might be not a bad idea to ask those questions now instead of later, right?
As Paul says, if you are feeling unfulfilled, unsure, underappreciated, undervalued, even underwater, it might be a good idea to give your life a sharp turn that you direct for yourself.
At a meeting of the Canadian Authors Association last week, three local authors spoke about book promotions. As the evening progressed JC Sulzenko related the story of how her play (that later became a book) What My Grandma Means to Say came to be. She was in an airplane somewhere over the prairies when the words just flowed out of her pen.
“It came unbidden,” she said.
As she wrote the scenes, her rational brain tried to intervene. “Put in a narrator,” it proposed, logically. But the ink from the pen just wouldn’t take that shape.
JC described an experience shared by creators over the centuries. Artists like Michelangelo, William Blake and Stephen King all said the work comes through them, not from them.
When I hear artists, writers, poets, or any creator speak about how work comes to them “unbidden,” I pay attention.
And when I look closely at what flows through them, I invariably find that it touches on a life truth in a deep and meaningful way. JC’s play is about a boy who watches his grandmother with Alzheimer’s change from a world traveller and cookie baker to someone who cannot remember his name. For two years JC has been visiting schools, care facilities and festivals sharing the story and encouraging kids and families to talk about a life truth in a deep and meaningful way.
Take some time to notice the next time you hear someone say that a painting, sculpture, story, or poem came unbidden. Look for the life truth, and be grateful that the artist was willing and able to shut out that rational mind long enough to be a channel for something meaningful.
Tune in on Tuesday, January 17, at 1:00 p.m. (EST) to hear JC and Dr. Gordon Atherley discuss how What My Grandma Means to Say, the play and the storybook, can enable family discussions about Alzheimer’s disease and related forms of dementia.