Turning thirty-one...

In honor of my thirty-first birthday on the thirty-first, thirty-one things that I indulged in this weekend that make me happy to be alive:

1. Friends.
2. Shish kabobs.
3. The Midnight Special.
4. Fleetwood Mac.
5. Salsa.
6. Cream cheese.
7. Sleeping in.
8. Fresh-squeezed orange juice.
9. Florida.
10. Naps in the car.
11. Creme Brulee.
12. Midnight swims under the stars.
13. Afternoon swims under the palm trees.
14.  Air conditioning.
15. Coca-cola.
16. Baby shoes.
17. Old records.
18. 80s music.
19. 70s music.
20. Outdoor nighttime concerts.
21. The scent of the ocean.
22. 50s architecture.
23. Birds and butterflies.
24. Presents.
25. Cheeto puffs.
26. Husbands.
27. Family.
28. Courtyards.
29. Fountains.
30. Jurassic Park.
31. Doughnuts.

Today we visited the birds and butterflies of Butterfly World.  It's like paradise.  It is filled with the most beautiful trees and flowers, and has fountains and waterfalls throughout.  This is a lorakeet we met there.  One of his friends landed on my arm and chilled with us for a bit.  It was great!

Forgiving myself...

I would like to lay out a bit of a trilogy. Last week my husband told me a story. He had been driving near our house slowing down to turn into the parking lot of a store when he almost t-boned a truck that pulled across on-coming traffic and in front of him. My husband was so shocked at the sheer closeness of the truck, he followed it to ensure that the driver was ok. He pulled up near the the truck as it parked next to a gas pump, rolled down his window, and said, "man, you're lucky I have good brakes!" The gentleman immediately fired back, "you're lucky you didn't hit me". "Excuse me?" my husband said. The man repeated himself, to which my husband decided not to back down. "Well, I actually came over here to see if you were alright, but if you're going to be rude about it, how about we get back in our cars, drive back over there, I hit you this time, and we'll see what the police have to say about it." The point is my husband was not attacking this person, yet he already had his guard up defending his mistake.

Last weekend at my hotel job, I noticed a package deal incoming that needed to be prepared. As I rolled my eyes- this meant more work for me and the housekeepers- I went about getting the package ready. This encompasses about a 10-step process. I remembered 9 of them. Because of that final step left incomplete, the smallest step of them all, the guest did not receive the correct room, resulting in their unhappiness, which was taken out on my friend who worked the night shift, and my boss having to comp the room. When I found out about it later, there was no denying I had made a mistake. However, my immediate reaction was that of- well it was this person's fault too and that person's and that person's! Luckily, I only freaked out to my friend, and by the time I talked to my manager about it the next day, I was ready to own up that it was only my fault, that I was sorry, and that it wouldn't happen again.

All of the stress I had experienced the night before, including trying to share blame with others, was lifted just with those simple words- I fucked up and I'm sorry. Last week I had a meeting with my life coach. We did some work using Byron Katie's methods. Byron Katie uses this thing called the turnaround. It's based on the idea that whatever we disdain about others is something we do ourselves. So far, I have found this to be of ultimate truth. In our work I dealt with some anger I have felt toward someone whom I believe has been manipulating my husband. Because my statement was 'So-and-so manipulates my husband', the turnaround was 'I manipulate my husband'. At first I literally couldn't get the words out. What a horrible statement. But once I made a conscious effort to just say them, the reality behind them came forth.  The actual admittance to myself of my own actions was so much more freeing than holding onto the denial of the fact. I immediately accepted that this is something I have done as well, and that's ok. Later, I pointed it out to my husband, who hadn't seen it that way either.

The thing is with all the lawsuits, wrongful this and that, policies, paperwork, and fine print floating around today, we have become so quick to jump on the defensive when someone, including ourselves, accuses us of not being 100% perfect. But I've found this past week that coming out straight-off and admitting yes I messed up, now what can I do to fix it brings so much more freedom. Whatever you loath about someone else, chances are you are doing it right now in some shape or form. Realizing this not only brought me peace with myself, but peace through understanding the other person's actions.


Last night when I checked my work email, there was one in my box from the general manager of the hotel. In it, he thanked me for my work last weekend. He recognized that we were short-staffed and told me he appreciated those 9 steps that I did remember. After a whole week of mentally berating myself over the whole thing, I realized the second most important step to dealing with the fact that we as humans will never be perfect- forgiving yourself for it.

 A flower.  Sometimes I feel like this is the view of life we're given, and we have to just squint and turn our head to the side to see it for what it truly is.

New Blog!

I have started a brand new blog to help me practice my review-writing skills! I am very excited about it and hope you will visit it. I will be reading one newly-released book each month and posting my review, complete with a link to purchase the book on Amazon. My first selection is a definite recommend. It's a small work you could easily read in an afternoon, but it will keep you laughing for weeks! Check it out! The link is below and is also listed under "My Sites" to the right!

dewinsreviews

Riding the tide...

The funk is back. I'm beginning to think it exists in a cycle that returns with the movement of the tides or something. But the past few days have been rough. Luckily, I had my photo contest to focus on. (I finally submitted my selections this evening, so it's pretty tough to type right now with all my fingers crossed!) I wonder if it is somehow related to the fact that I have been doing this "Work" of Byron Katie. I am told whenever you make big lifestyle changes, rough patches are bound to occur. Or I wonder if it's just the push and pull of the world.

The other day I turned on the tv in the middle of the day to keep me company while I folded some long overdue laundry. I don't usually watch tv in the middle of the day, and I immediately remembered why. First I passed by Oprah, and we all know I love and respect Oprah, but she was talking about how she lives her life this way and she has this special chair she spends her special meditation time in. Must be nice, I thought. Then I kept flipping until I hit Tyra, who was telling me I need to pair this top with that skirt and this color with that. Then finally, I passed some talk show where people were discussing how my relationship should be. It was just like bam, bam, bam- all these shows telling people how they should live their lives. Sounds nice and helpful on the surface, but for some reason that day it hit me that these people telling me how I should live are insinuating that there is something wrong with my life the way it is. It's just like commercial advertising. You need this product to make you happy- and you're worth it! I knew commercials were manipulative; everyone knows that. But does anyone realize how all this self-help is really self-harm? At least it seems that way to me. Maybe if people stopped worrying about how to best live their life and just lived it, they would be more peaceful. All this goal-orientedness, which I have bashed before, is so exhausting. Dude, can't I just be happy as I am? Do I have to constantly be bettering myself? Because my guess is that without trying I will probably improve more than if I am forcing it.


My husband found this amazing spiderweb on our mailbox the other day. It was so beautiful I had to snap a quick shot, even though it made me late for work!

Finding symmetry...

I've written recently about the surprise I often feel when certain aspects of my life seem to coincide in such a way as to complement each other. It's the greatest, most intriguing thing when this happens with books I am reading. I am in the process of finishing up both my Byron Katie book and My Stroke of Insight. In MSOI, Taylor talks about the sad fact that we spend all our time teaching our children how to use their left brain- how to speak, read, and calculate. How to make logical decisions, how to organize, how to make decisions. But we don't spend any time teaching and learning how to control our left hemisphere. By this she means how to stop our mental stories from replaying and replaying until they wear an electrical path in our brains so that we continue to feel the same pains over and over again. This tendency to create stories, such as I should have a clean house or I should be beautiful, is dangerous because it makes us susceptible to worrying about what others think of us, to advertising, and to self-criticism. Once the story is repeated as few as two times a pattern is created in our electrical wiring to repeat it.

The coolest part of this for me is that it is the scientific equivalent of what I read in Byron Katie's book just last night. Byron Katie comes at it from a more experiential point of view. She claims that she never makes a decision. All her decisions are made for her at the moment the answer is required. And she's right. I have tried to do this lately without knowing what I was doing. When I start to stress over a decision, anything from what I am going to wear for the day to how the hell I'm gonna pay bills next month, I stop myself. Am I getting dressed right now? Do I have 0 bucks in the bank right now? No. So why am I torturing myself? The cool part is all it takes is that one moment of stopping to make the thoughts disintegrate. And I have never once ended up going to work naked or not being able to pay a bill.

Katie's method is to turn around all the underlying thoughts that cause mental and emotional stress. Because it is the thought, or story, that causes the stress, not the situation. This is precisely what Dr. Taylor found in her own experience of living in her right hemisphere for 8 years. And, she was a neuroanatomist, so she knows a bit about the subject. I just find it so cool that although they seemingly come from completely different areas of expertise- one may be viewed as a feel-good self-help guru, another a strict regimented scientist, they both came to the exact same conclusion. And that conclusion is we don't have to live our lives in misery. All we have to do is recognize that all misery is self-inflicted. Katy calls it focusing on the projector instead of the projection. We are the projector, our thoughts the projection. Once we recognize that our thoughts are not real, only a representation of what is real, we are that much closer to living a life of freedom.

Turning down the noise...

Recently, with all my reading of Eckhart Tolle, Alan Watts, and Deepak Chopra, I decided to cut down on tv, radio, and thought. I couldn't describe why but I felt the excessive noise was adding to my stress level. I still engage in all three, but now I don't leave the tv on unless I'm actively watching it, sometimes I drive or shower in silence, and when I find my thoughts backing up until they're running each other over, I make it a point to stop and hit pause. I think it's been helpful, but I never really knew for sure until I started reading Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor's memoir and Neurology 101 handbook, My Stroke of Insight, after hearing her interviewed on NPR.

In the book, Taylor, a neuroanatomist, details- literally- her stroke experience, describing each resulting loss of function, and then relates her recovery from her recognition of color to her reading comprehension. But that's not the most intriguing part. The greatest facet of this book to me is the experience she had sans her left hemisphere. Taylor was left with essentially only her right-hemisphere function and therefore experienced our world with no concept of past or present. Her thoughts came in pictures, not words. In her interactions with others, she felt energies instead of seeing the superficial. She felt one with the universe literally, as she lacked the ability to recognize boundaries. In other words, she had no idea where she ended and the world began. Likewise with sounds, she was unable to differentiate one sound from the veritable flood of noise around her at all times.

In learning to cope with the world under such circumstances, Taylor taught herself how to limit her exposure to negative energies from others and to sound pollution. She even taught herself to steer away from creating negative mental loops of pain and suffering. She could simply decide not to feel badly about certain things. So this got me thinking- if we all have this going on in our right hemispheres at all times, we are probably having the same negative reactions to stimuli that she did in her recovery. We just don't notice it because we have our right hemisphere operating in tandem to overrule it.

These days we are in almost constant communication via cell phones, email, and Facebook. We collide with sounds at every turn. Not just conversation, tv, and radio, but thoughts. We worry about overstimulating our children, but as adults, we don't give it a second thought. Yet, we frequently read about the importance of "me time" and the danger of "energy vampires", people who sap you of positive energy with their constant negative chatter.

I really believe that all of this excess noise is cause to such daily torments as road rage, stress, emotional breakdowns, and misdirected anger. I truly feel that being preemptive and cutting some of the unnecessary pollution out of my brain has helped chill me out. And, hearing Dr. Taylor's words just fortified my suspicions. I think her book is a huge step forward for our species.

Getting by with a little help from the universe...

About five years ago I met one of the greatest people on Earth, and a friend of my husband's became one of my own. Since we first met, she has always told me: the universe will provide for you; you just have to put your dreams out there. Of course I believed her, but I never knew how true her words were until yesterday.

Rewind back to this past December when I was flipping through O Magazine during a slow spell at the hotel. An ad caught my eye. It was a full page with a black backdrop and red and white text (Rock Steady colors). It was advertising a photo contest for unknown talent. Upon researching a bit more, I found that the agency sponsoring the contest not only publishes O Magazine, but several other well-known periodicals, including Cosmo. I was elated. As suddenly as I had stumbled upon the ad, ideas were flowing through my head and I tried to catch each one on a scrap of paper here, a napkin there. Soon, I had so many I had to narrow them down. Once that task was accomplished, it was time to find some models, which was a feat in its own right.

My first model was an interesting case, in that she was a minor, so I had to go through serious hoops to get permission to shoot her. My second model was a friend who was easy enough to rope in. But the location was not so easy. Luckily he had a friend with an in at a local theater. We were allowed to shoot afterhours on stage and she even stayed to work the lights. My final, and main, model I hadn't seen in over two years and had to hunt down. Luckily, she agreed to let me drag her all around North Florida, dress her in funny clothes, and get up in her grill with a camera. It was on.

As I was calculating how much this was going to cost me in clothes, shoes, make-up, hair, a friend of mine texted me. She had another friend who just opened a clothing store and thought maybe her friend would be willing to hang some of my landscape photography in her shop. She had no idea about the contest. (Cue the universe.) I stopped in to meet with her friend and instead asked about borrowing some clothes for the shoot in exchange for some prints for her to hang up in her store. Not only did this then complete stranger agree, she offered to design the clothes herself specifically for and according to my vision for each shot. I could've cried! This was all coming together. Add another of my friends who agreed to take the day off work (she never takes a day off) to handle hair and make-up, and it was go time.

After months of planning, we met up here Saturday night to get ready to leave first thing in the morning. We traveled to all ends of Jacksonville the next day, from Jax Beach to St. Augustine to Green Cove Springs to Middleburg and back. Add the near 90 degree weather and it made for a long day. But what an amazing experience! I had my own entourage- me on camera duty, a model, an assistant, and a hair and makeup artist. And, everyone did such an amazing job. I couldn't have done it without any one of the people mentioned above, as well as those who allowed us to shoot on their property.

I am usually horrible at delegating. When I used to go on job interviews after graduating college, this is what I would offer up when they inevitably asked for my weaknesses. I hate to ask for help. Not because I am proud, much the opposite. I just assume, who would want to help me? Well, it turns out a lot of people. My friend was right. Once I put it out there that this was my goal- to submit a respectable and meaningful submission to this contest- everything just feel into place. It made me realize that the world is not such a scary place, and that people would love to help if you just ask. Not only did several people, even strangers, agree to help, some even thanked me for allowing them to be a part of it!

Overall, it was an unbelievable experience. I truly do not even care whether I win or not. I took some amazing photos and made some even more amazing realizations about the world I live in and the people in it. An overwhelming fear of what lies outside my doorstep has been replaced with a feeling of support from the outside world. Thanks to everyone!






The before and after. So tough to pick a favorite shot from the day, but this would have to be it. I knew I loved this one the moment I took it. Check out more at:
flickr.com/dewindesigns or
dewindesigns facebook

Wiping the grime off...

As I have written before, I went to a college prep school where everyone was smarter, more athletic, prettier, cooler (the list goes on) than me. To this day, whenever I receive one of the school's quarterly magazines with all the updates from everyone, I literally get sick to my stomach. Reading about how everyone is a lawyer, went backpacking through Europe last summer, and has four beautiful kids and a mansion makes me want to puke. I hated the competition then, and I hate it even more now. So I challenge myself to throw the damn thing in the trash before I even open it.

I don't want to compare myself anymore. The only people I feel are useful as comparison are the previous me's. I like to see how much I've grown. Not that I was bad before, just different. This is one of the things that amazed me about my circle of writing friends at the retreat. Not once did it feel like a beauty contest of whose writing was better than another's. It was quite possibly the first time I have been in a situation where each individual's unique strengths were honored and appreciated. It encourages me to strive for that in all areas of my life.

In my work with Byron Katie, I have learned that much of the time the actions we project on others are actions that we ourselves are undertaking. Therefore, if I feel that others are judging me, I have to look inside myself and admit that I am judging others (and myself). If I can make a conscious effort to change, I believe I can wipe the grime off the view hole, as No Doubt says.


Here's proof of something else cool. There are times when you feel no one understands you- until you open your eyes and see that they always have. The weekend before my trip, I was at an art festival with my dad. He picked out the most beautiful, most me bracelet I have ever received. When I saw it, I was so comforted. Though it may sound superficial, it was proof that my dad got me. On my trip, the resident agent was the one who asked me to come and photograph the foxes because she knew I'd love to. And, once there, she is the one who showed me this amazingly beautiful antique hinge. She said she thought I'd like it. I did. She'd known me three days. This is proof of why people need people to reflect themselves back to them. I think this is a major piece in how we get to know ourselves.

Growing my characters and myself...

My husband used to play with a singer who had a pretty limited vocal range. People would suggest he take singing lessons to help him expand upon his talents. However, he refused out of fear that training his voice would take away its natural honesty. He did not want to come off as contrived. I thought about this as I was riding to the cabin in Colorado last week. I was talking with an author about different writing techniques. I asked him, did he not feel that using these techniques made his writing feel forced? His answer was, no, they help me to get my point across more effectively.

Today I was reading more of my new book on writing, and I fell in love. The author explains so many seemingly obvious methods of writing that I had never thought of myself. And, suddenly, I understood what my author friend had meant. Utilizing some of these ideas could make my characters come alive and jump right off the page. I was so excited I wanted to read more.

In addition to all of the surprising revelations I experienced last week, I found that I can handle criticism. How freeing a realization! As I have written, I had previously never shown my work to anyone, excepting one boyfriend and my husband. When I received criticism from these two readers, I was upset, because from them, I was expecting simply a show of support. But, having these as my only prior experiences with criticism, I feared this week's encounters with my readers. I fully expected myself to end up a sniveling little five-year-old throwing a tantrum on the floor. I was wrong. (Thank God.)

When I took in the comments from each of the experts- the author, the agent, the editors, my friend- I actually craved more. I felt distanced just enough from my work to see it as this thing that I wanted to grow. I did not see it as an attached limb- something to become defensive about, the way I had imagined I would. Talking with my friend was the most enlightening, because he gave me some great ways to grow my character, again obvious things that would have never occurred to me. And, that's when I knew I was a writer. I felt about my work the way I would feel about a child. I realized I want my story to have the best. I want my characters to be understood. But without this outside input, that would be nearly impossible.

This evening, as I was reading my book on my back porch, I thought about this in relation to ordinary defensiveness. When people discuss religion and politics, opinions and feelings fly, yet not much gets accomplished. I think this is because of what Byron Katie refers to as our being attached to our thoughts. What I think about governmental issues and how I feel about God are thoughts in my mind. My attachment to them can be harmful if I allow it to make me defensive, distancing myself from others. But if I can severe that appendage just enough to distance myself slightly, I would be more accepting of others' opinions about life. And, I might even learn something.

I think people are so afraid of feeling forced that instead of openly listening to the thoughts and ideas of others, they push them away out of fear. Just because I listened to my friend's ideas for my character does not mean I have to take them. Similarly, just because I listen to someone else's view on religion does not mean I have to assume it. But I can respect it and be thankful for their willingness to share it, and possibly take something from it that makes me grow.


This is one of my favorite shots from the week. The field where the foxes lived was filled with old sheds, an old house, and old rusted farming equipment. I couldn't stop playing the 10,000 Maniacs song, Gold Rush Brides, in my head the whole time we were there.

Turning myself inside out...

I was riding my bike this evening, spending time with my first love, my Florida. I miss writing camp. I miss my house in Colorado. I miss my new friends. I miss the freedom of it. But, God, it's good to be back with my Florida. As I was riding, hands stretched out, Herbie Hancock on my iPod, jasmine in the air, I thought about something my friend said. One word actually that kept echoing in my mind- courage. He was using it in reference to me. I thought back to a year or so ago when I would've never placed that word in any sentence- or even paragraph- that had dewin in it. But somewhere along the road, I took that word and became it. I took what I envied in others, and instead of resenting them, turned myself into them.

I was talking to my friend during our hike about how I, if not all of us, tend to paint people into these mythical beings sometimes. It's like when I obsessed over Gwen Stefani for years (ok, so I still do), then I met her and marveled at the fact that she was so tiny. It's like with writers. Somehow I imagined they were these sparkly people who had some magic way of spinning webs out of words that was hidden from daylight. Turns out they just sit at their laptops, just as I'm doing now. I wondered why I make up these characters in my head. Is it to keep myself distanced from them, so that I don't dare try to be like them, lest I fail? Or is it my way of assigning such height to have something to long for, a type of goal to strive for? Or is it because what these people do to me is an inexplicable, unimaginable miracle? They move me in ways I can't see, and can, therefore, not explain.

I don't know, but one thing I learned this past week is that not only are editors and agents not scary, writers are not magical floating beings who inspire literary excellence by simply tinkling their noses. They are me, and I am them.


Here is the momma fox.

Belonging...

Writing Retreat Day Five:

Well, since I spent the first three days overcoming challenges, it only makes sense that I spend my last day here facing more. Only today's were a different sort. After surviving the horror that is sharing your work with others for the first time, I decided today would be a fun day. And, that is definitely what it was.

My first challenge was waking up early, a tough one for me. The agent on-staff had seen some baby foxes with their mother on her walk yesterday and asked if I wanted to come again with her today to see if I could get some shots. Unfortunately, after waiting patiently for over an hour, the foxes didn't show. But we still had fun talking and wandering around the town center.

After coming back to the house to grab a quick snack, I was off again with a fellow writer in search of nearby trails for hiking. We drove 20 minutes out of the city, about 10,000 miles up to a 4-mile trail only to find it covered in snow and impassable. But we had a beautiful drive and I got to get some shots of the snow-covered fields. It was the first time I truly appreciated Colorado. After that minor detour, we decided to head back to the house and check out the trail that snakes up the mountain in the backyard. Now, in the past, I have always felt a bit guilty about referring to myself as a hiker, because in Florida, you're really just walking through the forest. But today I became official when I hiked all the way up to the top of a mountain on a foot-wide path that wound back and forth right along the edge with no rails to save you if the icy snow or pebbly sand betrayed your boots. It was great. We had a perfect view of the mountains and came across some interesting trees. After our close to two-hour hike (and amazing two-hour dialogue), we dragged our tired selves into the house for an amazing lunch of home-made fried chicken and gravy. It was perfect.

But that wasn't all. After helping clean up the kitchen and taking a few minutes to check emails, we were off to try again to catch a glimpse of the foxes. We pulled up next to the field and as I was walking toward it, someone whispered, "there they are!" I grabbed my camera and immediately started shooting. I had never seen a fox before. The mother was pacing back and forth, while her babies were wrestling and pouncing on each other. We eventually snuck up surprisingly close to them without them becoming alarmed. Apparently they are used to people because the mother stood right next to the road and later took off through town, perhaps in search of food for her kits.

After going through all 600+ of the photos I'd taken today, I was beat. I went upstairs to write my blog and go to sleep, but was summoned by another of my new friends to play a game of pool. I've only played once in my life, and I was awful. So I thought, I'll just watch. Well I'll just watch turned into ok, just one hit, which turned into me learning how to play pool! And, I am good! I can even jump balls! I had no clue I had such a talent. So, we decided that I should ditch the whole writing thing, and take up a career as a pool shark.

And so went my day. Now I am to write an entry in a journal describing my experience here. How can I put into words an experience that has been the most powerful that I've ever had? It may sound like junior high sleep away camp, but it was more than that. I feel like I have been inducted into a whole new world, filled with amazing, talented, and caring people- people who think like I do. It's such a wonderful thing to be surrounded with people with the same thoughts and passions as you. I've never had that. I have had interests. But when the co-teachers would talk of their passion for teaching, when my fellow students would discuss their love of marine biology, when the designers I worked with got excited over what I saw as a boring project, I felt I didn't belong. Here, I belong. And, that feeling is something you can't put into words.

Living my life...

Writing Retreat Day Four:

If yesterday was my day of being molded, today I received the polish. Last night as I was lying in bed desperately trying to fall asleep despite my level of giddiness from the day's challenges overcome, I was taken aback by the giant smile that usurped my face and refused to leave. How often in my life have I stopped, smiled, and thought, wow, this is my life. Very few.

Last night was one of the most powerful moments I've ever experienced. It kind of makes tonight seem redundant as I faced another, though completely different, overwhelming fear of mine. Though my brain told me to run, I opened my computer and read my work in front of a room full of people. I did. I was certain everyone could hear my teeth chattering, see my palms sweating, and feel my absolute terror. But after I paused briefly mid-way to find my place, I suddenly felt calm, as though this were something I do everyday. And, before I knew it, it was over. My entire thirty years of life completely changed in a matter of five minutes (not to be too over-dramatic). But that is what this retreat has meant to me. It represents a turning point. The point where I stand up and claim my life as my own. And, do you know what someone told me afterward? That I have a confident voice.

That confidence and fear are not related in our culture is unclear to me. Everyone I have ever talked to, confident or not, admits they feel fear. There were some amazing writers tonight who were just as nervous to read as I. Confidence is doing it anyway. Confidence is believing in yourself enough to grab what you want no matter what fears you have to cross. Confidence is having enough faith in life to know it will provide for you. And, tonight, confidence was me.


This is Ruh (pronounced Roo), the service dog for one of the writers here at the retreat. He weighs more than I do. Significantly more. But he is the sweetest cuddliest dog I have ever met.

Taking it step by step...

Writing Retreat Day Three:

One of the most, if not the most, typically played out stories is the coming-of-age tale that follows an individual on his journey through growth to maturity. Well, my coming-of-age story played out in the span of the past 24 hours. As those of you who follow this blog may know, my early life was framed by a rigid unwillingness to take risk. I didn't walk with my head up until I was 6. I didn't learn to ride a bike until 12. I never learned to raise my hand in class. Risk equals ridicule. Until today. Today, risk equaled amazing interaction with life at all levels- interaction with others, with my work, with myself.

I am lucky enough to have somehow picked up a sponsor here at the retreat. Whether he sensed something in me immediately that needed to be pushed or he just enjoys watching me make a fool of myself, my new friend doesn't make suggestions, he tells me- you are going to do this. I love it. I crave it. And it's not that I need permission, but that I need to be reminded that I can. I am capable. So today I met with four different experts- an author, an agent, and two editors (one from Penguin, one from Random House)- and discussed my writing. It still amazes me to even say it. It brings back visions of dewin, the quiet one, trying out for the cheerleading team in junior high. All were shocked, most of all me. In addition to this, I actually raised my hand in our Q & A session tonight. (Because my friend told me I was going to.) Surprisingly and not-so-surprisingly, it didn't hurt and no one laughed. His next challenge for me is tomorrow when I will read a selection of fiction to the entire group of 20+ people and have it critiqued. After today, though, I am excited about it!

One of the things that each of these experts expressed to me was the importance of taking things step by step. To build up skill. To build a foundation. A couple of them asked, "What brought you here?" And, I think it is precisely that, literally and figuratively. It has taken many tiny steps for me to get to this point in my life. I remember being afraid of doing my first art show. Now it's nothing. I remember being afraid of first publishing this blog for all to see. Well, truthfully, I'm still pretty scared about that, but not as much! I remember being afraid of my first photo shoot, my first tutoring student. I remember being afraid of the publishing process- this morning. But now that I see that agents have a face- a kind one, that editors are just people- who go for runs, that other authors experience rejection too- a lot, the fears slip away on their own. And, beneath it all, everyone out there just wants to help you. Thank you, by the way, to all my newest blog followers! ;)


Icicles outside my bedroom window! I could probably make some metaphor here about fear melting away, but I'll spare you.

Adjusting the focus...

Writing Retreat Day Two:

I started a book last night that I found here at the retreat about the many ways we can sabotage our own writing. The one I read about today was distraction. I believe that certain things hit you at certain times because you need them. This chapter was an example of that belief. The author creates a fable by retelling the story of when her office was invaded by flies and she took after them with a copy of The Globe instead of writing.

"I wanted to get everything in that room just right before my writing began. I was afraid that just as a good idea was about to come to me, a fly would appear and jar me, and the idea would be lost forever. It was my very commitment to writing that kept me from it."

Again, I am taken back to my post about the girl on the track team. Just as she was focused on looking perfect instead of the actual running, just as many of us are fixated on living a perfect life instead of the actual living of it, I have been concentrating all of my energy on having the perfect writing process or the perfect manuscript instead of the actual act of writing. I know I have posted about this before, but I just keep repeating it to myself until it clicks. When things are hard, my husband has this thing he says to pull me back in- it's just you and me. I will apply this to my writing, and when I get distracted by the little details, such as what will this agent or that editor think about my work- and worse, me as a person, I will remind myself- it's just me and my writing. There is nothing else.


My favorite model- the sun. I love playing with the rays of light and experimenting with the rad lens flares they create. I took this this morning in the backyard before the clouds covered overhead and it poured snow all day!

Making space...

Writing Retreat Day One:

Today was pretty significant in the writing life of dewin. The reason is that I was filling my notebook with ideas and inspirations before I even arrived here. Every five or so minutes on the plane rides I would think of something else to jot down. So I asked myself- dewin, you haven't written but maybe two notes in the past month, and in just a five hour span you've filled pages, why? And it came to me. I made space for them. All this time I have been focusing on the outward details- where to write, when to write, how often to write, what to write. But the most important thing I now know is simply making the space. In my mind foremost, and also in my time. I had it set in my mind that this is my week to go and write and think about nothing but books and writing. And immediately I was there in that thoughtful space. I also recognized that my notes and thoughts seem to keep floating back to the same area. This aspect of humanity that continues to boggle me. One that I want to dig into it and find out more about. So, I thought, maybe this is what I am to write about. It is exciting to me. For once I was sitting there in the moment of having all these thoughts and I felt this is where I love to be. Right in this place of thought. It's weird. I don't know that I would call it fun exactly. But I love it nonetheless.

And so my struggle is to bring that back into my day. Not sure how I will do it exactly but where there's a will there's a way. I think the most important ingredient will be intention. I'm also thinking I may start timing myself. Like only allowing myself 30 minutes to work on work-related stuff. Or 15 minutes to search the internet. Or an hour to clean the house. But when the time's up, I am no longer allowed to worry or even think about it anymore. Because these are the things that make a void out of my day. I start folding laundry with the best of intentions to sit down and write afterward, yet I get pulled from chore to chore and suddenly it's time for bed. So, time's up for this post. I'm going to read!!!!


Here is a shot of the space I will be writing in this week. It is a three-story cabin in the mountains of Breckenridge. Complete with my own private balcony, a 90 degree hiking trail in the backyard, and a hot tub. I think it'll do.

Breaking the fast...

Been a long time. This is definitely my longest stretch of bloglessness yet. I won't even try to make excuses or give reasons. I'm finding out that there is no one way to channel creativity, at least for me. I've tried a bunch hoping to find that one magical sitting position or pencil or time of day. No such thing exists. I even thought that this blog was my answer. Turns out not so much. I guess it's like with religion. You can't reach God in just one way or see him in just one thing. He is everywhere. Creativity is everywhere. It is in everything. I just hope it's in Colorado. For that is where I am headed tomorrow for the long-awaited writing retreat.

I go into this retreat with little more in the way of expectations than the obvious. I am going to be on my own for five days in the mountains with new people. That is all. Well, I'd be lying if I didn't admit I hope to get some reading done. I've packed 8 books for crying out loud. And three notebooks. Two pencils. Three pens. A highlighter pen with post-it flags. And a pencil sharpener. I'm prepared. I may not be wearing the expensive matching outfit from Sports Authority, but creativity can't be found in the superficial. I am ready to get dirty.


A preponderance of pondering would be my highest hope for this retreat. I love this shot.