A fact made particularly clear.

Posts I want to write keep backing up in my mind, and eventually the ideas grow stale and I forget about them.

Yikes. There's a moral here.

I am feeling a bit more energy (although I am finding that naps are still rather wonderful things), so hopefully I will write some of these posts. And also other things.

For instance, I want to submit to this. But I'm not sure what to submit. The two stories I love most are not ready; the third is very short, possibly too short to qualify. Well, I have more than a month before the deadline. I should work on one of my darlings.

I am sorry to say that one of my roadblocks is that all my stories are on the my huge, heavy laptop that I don't use much anymore because it has a broken hinge and can't close and also something is wrong with the fan and it always sounds like the computer is about to lift off. This is a pathetic reason not to write. I am trying to push past the various forms of pathetic that are holding me back. Exhaustion is a legitimate reason; choosing to use your unexhausted moments to watch Game of Thrones is not.

Fact is, it is time for me to write again. And it is going to hurt. Oh yes. (Think training for a marathon when you've been sitting on a couch for the past year.) But it is time, more than time.

I didn't get in to this program--heck, if I had, I would have been terrified--and anyways, I didn't expect to. But applying to it meant something. It was a step, a movement. And then Greg Wolfe sent me a personal message, which was awesome. (I'm sure he sent one to people other than me, but I know for a fact that he didn't send one to everybody.)

Shortly thereafter, I had an all-too-rare phone conversation with my cousin, and confessed to him I hadn't done much writing since graduating. He was quite disappointed in me. Rosemary, he said, you should be writing. Don't lose it.

I know. I know that I should be writing. I know I could lose it. It terrifies me.

Almost immediately afterward I got an email from an author who I'd met online via the Catholic Writer's Guild. He had read a story of mine ("Dust") for a workshop, and months later emailed to congratulate me when it was published. He remembered me and my story and pointed me in so many helpful directions--links to contests I should enter, an offer to read my work, an invitation to approach his own publisher when I had a collection of short stories ready for publication. I was so touched!

And also so embarrassed to admit I hadn't been writing lately.

It has been made particularly clear to me that the time has come. I think what terrifies me most about this is that I had started to think about my writing as something that it didn't matter too much if I just sort of let it go. Would I be sad about it and regret it later on? Probably. But really, it's not like my stories are going to change the world. In the big picture it doesn't matter. Right?

Except it does. It isn't the same as if I gave up knitting, say, or decided to give up training for a marathon because it was too hard or I just wasn't into it anymore. For who I am and who I'm called to be, it matters. It is part of reality in such a way that to walk away (and especially to let it slip away through laziness and fear) would be a loss for me--spiritually and personally. It would be more than just a personal regret. Not because my stories are going to change the world or are somehow necessary to Catholic Literature or whatever, but because I would not be fulfilling God's plan for my life, and that ripples outward. When we neglect our own growth, we can never know what might have been, both for ourselves and those whose lives we touch.

I've realized, also, that my desire for a less haphazard prayer life and a return to writing are so, so very similar. They both need discipline. I am not a disciplined person. I function according to deadlines, which I no longer have imposed on me from outside, so I just sort of do things as they come to me. Right now at least, this doesn't matter too much for things like housework (although even there I've started finding that rhythm and routine is important). But for craft--oh does it matter!

I need order. It is hard to know where to start.

Unquick Takes ...?

I missed 7 Quick Takes because I am fasting from the internet on Fridays (although I may have checked Facebook in the evening. ahem.), but I had some bite-sized thoughts, so I figured I'd go ahead and post them quick-takes style. There aren't seven of them. But they're kind of chunky, so I guess it balances out. ;)

1. The past two nights Michael has "bonded" with an object or toy at bedtime, which he then refuses to be separated from throughout his nighttime routine. He does have a stuffed monkey that he cuddles with when it's time to sleep, but these have been random things. Two nights ago it was a road sign from a Brio set, which I made the mistake of taking from him when we settled down to nurse. Many tears ensued. Last night it was a baby hairbrush I gave him to play with while I changed his diaper. He held onto it throughout the diaper change and as I got him in his pajamas. He chewed it while Keith read his bedtime stories to him, and used it instead of his fingers to stroke the animals in his touch-and-feel book. I didn't take it from him while he nursed; since he couldn't suck on it at the same time, he decided that it should go in my mouth. We said goodnight to Keith, and then Keith was required to nom it. When we said goodnight to the Blessed Mother statue and picture of the Sacred Heart, instead of patting them like he normally does, he tapped them with his hairbrush. I think he would have snuggled up with it in his crib if I hadn't coaxed it away and replaced it with his monkey.

2. Recently one of the secretaries at the Oratory contacted me asking if I wanted to do some basic data entry work for them. I was just thinking that I'm at a point now where I have time to do something extra (especially since Michael STILL isn't moving around ... we're pretty sure at this point he's going to skip crawling altogether), so it's a great way to bring in a little extra money. More than I expected it to, actually. What a blessing. :)

3. I have all these intentions to write posts about Lent, but never sit down to put effort into writing them. I think it's some combination of laziness and lack of confidence. Which about sums up my writing life of late. I am applying to a fellowship, which is an act of faith for me of sorts. I don't expect to get it (although it would be PERFECT; I really admire Greg Wolfe and his work with Image), but if I did? To be honest, I think my first reaction would be sheer terror. Hehe. Anyway, applying is an action that I am taking, and while I do care about whether or not I get accepted, I see the true point of that action being simply to move, to break free at least a little out of this post-grad-school inertia. (I almost typed post-partum. But you know, I think it has much more to do with just feeling burnt out from academia ... and feeling like I am not as amazing as an MFA was supposed to make me.)

4. I missed the yarn along too, so I'm going to ramble about knitting a bit. I had a spare skein of Malabrigo Sock lying around, so I decided to participate in Malabrigo March. Any opportunity to win yarn is one I'm willing to jump at. ;) I'm knitting Poe from Corrina Ferguson's Seven Sonnets collection. I love pattern collections that are built around a theme or concept, and one that's built around poems? Yes!

I've also signed up for a class on triangular shawl design at Natural Stitches in April. I am pretty excited about this class. It cost a little more than I'd anticipated (I think because it's being taught by a well known designer), but luckily I already have all the supplies I need except graph paper. My only concern is that I won't learn anything that I haven't already from the Craftsy course. We'll see.

5. As part of Lent, I've been keeping careful track of how much we spend on groceries, and how much each meal costs us. I know we can spend less than we do and I'm trying to figure out how to do that. This week, we ate out twice--once for a friend's birthday, and once for brunch on Sunday. I knew that eating out cost more than eating at home of course, but I didn't realize how MUCH more. Yikes. It was pretty amazing having a night off from making dinner, but the cost kind of stressed me out.

why she writes

I was very recently introduced to the author Alice Thomas Ellis by a friend--so recently, in fact, that I haven't yet had the chance to read any of her fiction. But I've borrowed a book of weekly columns that she wrote under the title "Home Life."

So far they are very delightful, written very loosely in a spirit of play, dancing along a train of thought without worrying about wrapping all the ends up. My favorite, so far, is one called "Power of Speech." The opening paragraph:

I have a work by Mrs Beeton which she wrote for the 'smaller establishment': that is, a household with only a cook, a couple of maids and a boy to carry the coal. She says firmly, 'On entering the kitchen invariably say "Good morning Cook."' OK, you ponder, but what if Cook is out on the area steps dallying briefly with the muffin man? What if your household is so small you don't have a cook? Still, many housewives talk to themselves. I often say things aloud when I spill the milk or trip over the cat and there's no one here to listen. I plod round M&S muttering "prawns, butter, underpants" because otherwise I would forget what I'm doing there, and so do a lot of other ladies. One has to keep talking or one loses the knack. When the children were very small I spent weeks alone with them high up in the Welsh hills and I used to lose the power of speech. I would return to London bereft of all vocabulary, communicating in grunts and diddums talk. You feel a fool asking, for instance, Professor Sir Alfred Ayer if he would care for an icky bitty more soup in his ickle bowl.

 I totally wander around the grocery store muttering my shopping list under my breath, and I always say things when I'm the only one at home to hear them.

Writing of this sort is one of the many kinds that makes me want to blog. She takes the stuff of everyday living and turns it into something enjoyable, sheds a new light on it. And I love her for not having some great and profound point at the end of her columns--it's about the sheer and slightly wacky delight of life. One of the reasons I don't post more often than I do--aside from, you know, being kind of lazy--is that I have a high standard for what I want my posts to do. They must be entertaining or thought-provoking or beautiful to the extent that whoever reads them is impressed, or at least somewhat interested. I think about writing far too much; I write far too little.

Which is a problem for me beyond just blogging. Oh well.

But that joy, that enjoyment that sparkles in her words. She is having fun. That is why she writes.

Well, look at that!

Sometimes Googling your own name tells you things about yourself you didn't even know.*

Like the fact that I was, apparently, nominated for a Pushcart Prize! Something I totally missed.

See?

I didn't win, of course--but getting nominated is still pretty dang awesome.

*Someone asked about my name change, and I told them I was officially the only Rosemary Callenberg on the internet. I had to fact check.

On the writing front ...

Today I met with one of the members of my manuscript committee. (I have another meeting with the chair of my committee on Thursday.) It was immensely helpful. She helped me see certain patterns that I tend to fall into with my stories, some of which I had almost-sort-of realized by myself before; but there's something about an outside voice pointing things out that can make things so much clearer.

We talked lightheartedly about the possibility of Baby coming early and complicating things, and she said something about my being able to wrap this thesis up in two weeks. I don't think that's possible, especially considering the essays I need to grade and the ten page paper I have to draft (both by next week), but ... perhaps I could conceivably have this thing ready for binding and committee signatures by the end of the month? It would be nice ...

Meanwhile, I got an email from an old professor asking if I would submit something to the literary journal I used to edit in undergrad. So soon I will have another publication under my belt. Pretty awesome!

Still no camera, but plenty of yarn ...

Yesterday my friend Evangeline and I went to Natural Stitches. I needed to pick up another skein of Tosh DK for the baby blanket; Evangeline needed yarn and needles for her first lace shawl.

As we browsed the fingering weight yarn looking for something appropriately soft and neutral for her Haruni, I noticed a ton of Jamieson, and I felt very clever, because I recognized it. Let me explain: right now I am reading Sweater Quest by Adrienne Martini, which I am very much enjoying. She chronicles her year of "knitting dangerously"--in other words, tackling a very difficult Fair Isle sweater by the very famous knitting designer, Alice Starmore. In it she writes about her own knitting, about other knitters, about the history of the craft, and about yarn and fiber. (It's the kind of book about knitting that I wish there were more of*--very Creative Nonfiction.) Anyway, Jamieson's Shetland Spindrift plays an important role, both in the history of Alice Starmore designs, and in the knitting of the title sweater.

So I saw the shelves of it in the store and thought, a-ha! That stuff!

As I go along, I am becoming more and more familiar with various yarns, designers, techniques, etc. I feel the knitting part of my brain slowly expanding and adding layers. And it is a contented sort of feeling.

When Keith gets home I shall nab his camera and take a (poorly lit) picture of the baby blanket, and hopefully I will get an official yarn along post in today.

*I've been thinking a lot lately about writing and knitting. The kinds of things I'd like to read--and perhaps to write? I will probably blog about this someday ...

Rest and Hiding

"There is a difference between hiding and resting. When we hide, we are afraid. When we rest, we are wise. It can take time to figure out which one is at work. But once we notice the signs, we'll know for next time."

~~~

Tomorrow I am going to finish a story I've been struggling with for a good year and a half. And then, I am going to gather all of these stories together into a Bigger Thing (a book? let's just stick with manuscript), and I am going to email the Thing to my committee.

And then I will be able to breathe--if only one breath before diving back in and revising, and revising, and revising.

(For better or for worse, I tend to do a lot of revision even while composing a first draft. It makes getting stories out of my system pretty difficult, but perhaps I already have the lungs of a swimmer?)

student introductions--fiction writing

"My own self-doubt and need for perfection will eventually make writing impossible, so I hope to begin to fix that issue in this course."

Oh, student. What if I told you that this course was only the beginning of your self-doubt? That the more you are able to talk about the strengths and flaws of writing, the more fuel you will have for your perfectionism?

What if I, your teacher, was somehow able to prevent that? What if I could help you both see your writing for what it is, and have the courage to keep on doing it? Sometimes all it takes is one person who sees your flaws but also believes in your abilities. (What if I told you that any person that has the power to give you courage also has the power to deflate you?)

Twelve.

1. Happy fourth of July, everyone. Happy last-holiday-as-a-single-woman, self.

2. This is how I count things. In terms of holidays, of tubes of toothpaste, of how many more times a certain day of the week will come and go. (One more Sunday, two more Tuesdays.) I have five multivitamins remaining in the pill bottle. They won't last me into my marriage.

3. This weekend we have created a seating chart; started the ceremony programs; ordered place cards and favors, all of which will hopefully arrive by the end of next week, or the beginning of the next; had a trial-wedding-hair-run, in my case; filled out the paperwork for the marriage license just before the office closed.

4. This week I will pick up the marriage license on Tuesday; stop by the jewelers at some point with Keith to pick up the rings; fetch my wedding dress and veil on Wednesday.

5. Although we've had several minor mishaps, things nonetheless seem to come together. I just have to keep reminding myself that when I get stressed. I would like every moment of stress to become, instead, excitement for the day that's drawing near, so quickly and so slowly.

6. I have been busy knitting--a rehearsal dinner shawl, because I am crazy, and many many teal flowers for the tables at the reception. (See photos!) None of them have been seamed together yet, so they all have loose threads hanging from them. I need to make at least four a day to finish on time, which is about an hour's worth of work, maybe a little more. I also still have to block several shawls. More on this Wednesday.

7. Keith is growing a beard until the day of the wedding, at which point he will shave it off.

8. I just finished Alice von Hildebrand's By Love Refined: Letters to a Young Bride, and may pick up The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse again this week.

9. One of the aforementioned mishaps was that my makeup artist bailed three weeks before the wedding. I don't want to do my makeup myself, and I don't want to place that responsibility on a friend's shoulders either, so there was a mad scramble to find someone else. This is a story unto itself, but in the end I found a lovely Mary Kay lady with a devotion to St. Therese, so I feel that my favorite saint once again has stepped in and sent beautiful gifts my way.

10. Yesterday Keith and I went to dinner with some friends. Since I am currently living with my parents, this was probably the last time I'll see most of them until after the wedding.

11. The schola is, after all, singing at our wedding. Partly in Latin.

12. I've had a story accepted at the wonderful literary journal Dappled Things. And because it's getting printed after the wedding, it will be published under my married name. :)