writing – Don't Gel Too Soon

NABLOPOMO Winds Down; Writing Struggles and Ta-Nehesi Coates

The sun has set upon Shabbat; now we need a Saturday post. Today is the 28th; Monday is the last day of November and also of NABLPOMO. I’ve managed every day except one Shabbat that I forgot to set up in advance, and have been glad, each day, of the commitment.

It’s so easy to let things go; just look at my very embarrassing WordPress chart: gaping holes all over the place. June is a little better than the rest because we were traveling and my blog is always lively when we’re on the road, but basically it’s a portrait of an undisciplined writer.

Then November rolled around, and with it the opportunity to accept an external structure. I made a promise; it wasn’t a case of writing when I felt like it. I would write every single day.

I love the process, once the idea comes. Of course with most posts I am certain what I’m posting sucks, no matter how often I edit it. Usually, when I read it later, it’s better than I’d thought. Always there’s room to improve, sometimes there’s also real potential. My favorite posts for the month:

Abortion and Olivia: Prison Has Many Forms and So Does Freedom

The War for the Souls of Orthodox Jewish Women (and Men) and Why It Matters

“Truth” and “Spotlight” and the News

Good Girls Revolt — When Men Were “Mad” and Women Were Researchers

Author Ta-Nahesi Coates, whose amazing Between the World and Me has informed (and transformed) much of my perspective on our country today, described his own labors toward writing, and writing “breakthroughs,” here. It has been very helpful to me this month and, I suspect, will continue to be.

The only way to write something is to face down that blank page. Whatever comes out can be altered and edited and re-thought or even rejected. But if it isn’t there, it isn’t there. Every day there’s a decision: shall I make myself sit down here or not? It’s awesome and scary and frustrating which is why the opportunity to pledge a steady month of writing is so valuable. Now I have to figure out how to keep going.

NaBloPoMo and the Cold November Rain

And it’s hard to hold a candle In the cold November rain — Guns N’ Roses

We’re on our way now- committed to NaBloPoMo*: the pledge to post every day in the month of November. Needing the discipline of a public pledge, I’ve taken it on. November: the month when my second son and first daughter-in-law arrived on the planet, when I first saw Africa, when the hero of my youth died in Dallas; the month of Kristallnacht and the fall of the Berlin Wall, Sherman’s burning of Atlanta and the launch of Queen Elizabeth’s record-setting reign. So much has happened in this month that ends with our beloved Thanksgiving.

There’s plenty to talk about: a Presidential election that’s precisely a year away, an unprecedented assault on women’s rights, faith, grief, the vagaries of our popular culture, families, grandparents, holidays, admired friends, books, music, movies and the world in general. Oh, and the wonderful work of the women whom I’ve joined on this adventure. You can find them all here.
*National Blog Posting Month

NABLOPOMO GRADUATION DAY MINUS ONE

So here’s what I know so far:

Everyone loves COSTCO. Yesterday’s post garnered a ton of traffic; I was frankly amazed. Of all the things I’ve written about, from Vietnam to Jewish funerals to East Berlin to my kids to Bruce Springsteen, this is the one that hit something. Not sure what but it’s kind of interesting, no?
Writing every day is definitely good for you. Hard, but good.
As I’ve continued to write, I’ve discovered both a capacity to be honest and a certainty that there are things I will never write about. Those things belong to others, people I love to whom they happened. They belong to them.
When you’re writing but you’re beyond tired, you should wrap up your document and go to bed. Which is what I’m going to do now. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate graduation day together. G’nite

BACK FROM BLOGHER 07

This post is a valentine. I learned at the Blog Her 07 Conference – in a story telling panel, that a story is a series of unanswered questions – answered gradually over time. But I have to start with the answer today because it informs everything else.

That answer begins with the three women in this photograph – (left to right) Elisa Camahort, Lisa Stone and Jory des Jardin, whose vision led to the gathering of almost 800 women who streamed into Chicago for the third annual BlogHer Conference. From its small beginnings in 2005, this conference and the community surrounding it has become something far more than the sum of its parts. The reason for its success and for the remarkable warmth and commitment to the community from the community emerges from this trio’s commitment to building concept, content and structure from the ideas, perspectives and attitudes of the bloggers — us — ourselves.

It’s tough to describe the high of so many powerful, rebellious women gathered in one place – dressed up, made up (this photo is from Suburban Turmoil) and smart as whips. Why begin with "dressed up, made up?" Because I’m old enough to remember when women only got dressed up when they were dressing for men. Now we dress for one another; our joy in one another’s company is boundless. Most of the women I spent the weekend with are too young to remember that, but for me it’s one of many wondrous facts emerging from this conference. Times have changed.

Then too, the entire conference empowers us. In fact, one of the major BlogHer initiatives is the product of an idea from just two bloggers: Cooper Munroe and Emily McKhann (That’s Cooper on the left.) They and BlogHer’s founders have created BlogHers Act and it’s about to become a year-long initiative on global health issues — topic and focus chosen by BlogHers. How did it happen? A survey seeking nominations for topics and then a vote that chose global health. It’s an exciting enterprise — all generated from within the BlogHer community

The rest of the conference was also quite wonderful. Some details:

*That Art of Storytelling panel I mentioned, which I attended almost by accident, was moving in its honesty and support of artfully structured storytelling rather than the impulsive writing that blogging can become. Birdie Jaworski, Claire Fontaine and Ree were the generous, inspiring speaker and their words will stay with me for a long time.

*Another, on branding and promoting yourself and your blog, was fascinating. I’ve been in journalism most of my life and know all the obvious "tricks" people use to get attention, but there’s lots of thought and planning beyond that stuff and, even more importantly, serious discipline.

*Since the Presidential election is [only?] a year away, there was a Get Out the Vote panel too – with some real heavyweights brought together by BlogHer political editor Morra Aarons: Kim Gandy from NOW, and BlogHer’s own Lisa Sabatier (seen together in this photo) and others.

There was a second political panel, Earn Our Votes – also organized by Morra – to select issues women bloggers wanted to see the candidates focus on.

*I co-chaired a Media Training – which I had proposed because blogging women are of so much more interest to reporters but aren’t all experienced in managing those relationships- with Rachel of Sarcastic Journalist. We had great questions – the audience set the agenda for the panel and we got lots of positive feedback, which felt great.

Most of all – beyond the sessions and the very interesting keynotes was the community that BlogHer is. If I write too much about it I’ll get all goopy (I do do that) but in an era of Third Wave and post modern and generational blah blah these few days bring together women of all sorts in a common space, help them find common ground and just plain have a wonderful time – with one another.

If that doesn’t deserve a valentine, I don’t know what does.

WHOSE LIFE IS IT, ANYWAY? (REDUX)

I’m under a horrendous deadline and getting ready for Blog Her at the same time so I’m offering a couple of "best of" posts from my early days on Vox. This one is here because of a conversation I had with someone I’d mentioned in a post – she would have rather I hadn’t. Here’s the dilemma:

At BlogHer (last year – 2006) there was a great debate among the "mommy bloggers" about how much to reveal about one’s children. Much of what was best in my career (as well as, of course, my private life) came from my kids – literally. They’re why I finally wrote a book [for kids.] They’re why I got interested in kids’ books and began writing book reviews for the New York Times and Washington Post and eventually served as early children’s book editor at Amazon. They’re the reason I did some of my best TV pieces – about kids learning to ski, learning disabilities, etc. You get the idea. BUT

Once they were over 7 or so I always asked before I mentioned them in anything I wrote. I kind of felt that it was my gig and they had their own lives. Now this is a problem. Michael Chabon says:

“Telling the truth, when the truth matters most, is almost always a frightening prospect. If a writer doesn’t give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves; if she doesn’t court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family, or party apparatchiks; if the writer submits his work to an internal censor long before anyone else can get their hands on it, the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth. "

He’s right I think – I can feel myself hanging back when those "other people’s secrets" begin to emerge — and if affects my writing. It’s true even of the most innocent things: something really lovely was said to me this week by one of my kids but it would expose HIM and I can’t do it.

Granted, most moms who blog have far younger kids than my adult sons but it’s an interesting question. Any thoughts?

Whatever we think about this though it gave me an excuse to share one of my favorite Michael Chabon quotes. (of very very many…)

WHOSE LIFE IS IT, ANYWAY?

At BlogHer there was a great debate among the “mommy bloggers” about how much to reveal about one’s children. Much of what was best in my career (as well as, of course, my private life) came from my kids – literally. They’re why I finally wrote a book [for kids.] They’re why I got interested in kids’ books and began writing book reviews for the New York Times and Washington Post and eventually served as early children’s book editor at Amazon. They’re the reason I did some of my best TV pieces – about kids learning to ski, learning disabilities, etc. You get the idea. BUT

Once they were over 7 or so I always asked before I mentioned them in anything I wrote. I kind of felt that it was my gig and they had their own lives. Now this is a problem. Michael Chabon says:

He’s right I think – I can feel myself hanging back when those “other people’s secrets” begin to emerge — and if affects my writing. It’s true even of the most innocent things: something really lovely was said to me this week by one of my kids but it would expose HIM and I can’t do it.
Granted, most moms who blog have far younger kids than my adult sons but it’s an interesting question. Any thoughts?

Whatever we think about this though it gave me an excuse to share one of my favorite Michael Chabon quotes. (of very very many…)