I’m baaaaack…

I’m still not entirely back into my writing schedule, but Passover is over, and the kids are back in school.

Returning to writing after a yom tov is always a bit sketchy, but Passover is the worst. The prolonged break — due to the need to clean for the holiday, shop, plan and cook the meals, and then celebrate the entire 8 days — somehow transforms my brain. It doesn’t act like a writer’s brain does anymore. I almost feel like I am not myself. Not in a sad way, in an “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” way. Like I’m a different person at this time of year.

Thank G-d, I’ve had a little editing work to get me at my desk, and that means I have been somewhat productive the last two days. And I know from the past that, eventually, the writing will come. It better: I’ve got a book review to write tonight or tomorrow, and then I would like to return to my latest project.

I keep thinking about my “not writing” brain, which appears sporadically throughout the year. Even on Shabbos, my brain doesn’t switch to this state, at least, not entirely. Vacations sometimes do it even when not accompanied by religious holidays. Prolonged contact with my kids, and the need to take care of them with few breaks, often flips the switch.

In my “not writing” phase, I don’t really get many writing ideas, and if an idea somehow confronts me, I don’t feel an immediate impulse to get it down, which is my usual reaction to a good idea. I often feel preoccupied by housework in this state, not just by necessity (a holiday looming just ahead or guests on the way) but because I actually crave it. In a down moment, I find myself repairing the torn knee of my 9 year-old’s pants, not scribbling a poem in my notebook.

It’s different than being “blocked.” If I’m blocked, it’s distressing. If I’m blocked, I WANT to write, or at least to be able to say I’ve written something at the end of the day, but the words aren’t coming. On the other hand, when I’m just “not writing,” I don’t care if I didn’t write. It’s like I’m not a writer any more.

Does anyone else ever get this way? Just temporarily?

A discovery! And what happens when you follow other writers’ advice.

So, things today went better today than last week. In short, I wrote more today than I wrote in the entirety of last week. (Yes, that’s how bad things were going.)

One of the things I found helpful was focus@will’s new setting “Cafe focus Beta.” A few months back, I reported that researchers released data indicating that writers are more productive in cafes than sitting in a quiet office at home. Well, I guess the folks at focus@will read the same study, because not only can you use the site to enhance your creativity with baroque or ambient music — or to white noise — you can now listen to a re-creation of a busy cafe full of people.

And yes, I did indeed find it helpful.

I also relied on the advice of other writers today in order to increase my productivity. Continue reading

One week until seder night! How to keep focused and full of joy

Here’s today’s teeny post:

Getting through the long, hard slog with a smile on your face.

Passover is just a week away, but if you’re cleaning your house like me, scrubbing mysterious substances off of flatware and appliances you intend to use during the holiday, it can get hard to think beyond getting the house chometz-free. To get myself in the mood, I listen to lots of fun music while I clean (Jewish, classical, and jazz) and attend classes about Passover with local rabbis and teachers. I enjoy practicing singing the seder songs with my kids during carpool, and we usually read I.L. Peretz’s “The Conjuror” at some point during the week.

Writing can be hard work like that, too. What do you do — either while Pesach cleaning or while plugging away at the keyboard — to give you inspiration and focus?

Springtime inspiration–take a nature walk

california poppies

A sure sign of spring in California

I’ve been really enjoying the arrival of spring here in L.A. Last week, my daughter and I strolled to school. We spotted our first monarch of the annual migration back up north.  The neighbors’ gardens were full of irises and azaleas. Alas, strong wind over the last week knocked the almonds off one neighbor’s tree before they ripened.

Our own garden is full of sweet peas, swiss chard, herbs and a single California poppy (a stray from last year’s batch–I didn’t plant them this year). There are buds on our rose bush and on the hydrangea, but our plumeria is mad at me. I didn’t realize that it’s not supposed to be watered over the winter, and the temperatures dipped unusually low, to boot.

What about the smells of spring? In L.A., spring smells like jasmine. Or what about taste? Strawberries always remind me of a California spring. Some of the neighbors grow their own. They smell sweet when warmed by the sun.

Spring has inspired artists for millenia. Why not take a walk around your neighborhood and describe how spring appears in your neck of the woods? Don’t be afraid to include the “off” notes–the muddy days, the late snow storm, the withered old tree that produces no more blossoms or fruit that stands stark in your backyard.

What reminds you of spring?

Finding Inspirational Words from Sarah Shapiro–Defining Jewish Writing, Part 2

A couple of weeks ago, some of the comments on a post I wrote about defining Jewish writing revolved around the introduction to Sarah Shapiro’s All of Our Lives. I took a workshop with Sarah–who writes, edits, and teaches amazing writing workshops that have inspired many fledgling Jewish writers–and have a lot of respect for her opinions, so I borrowed the book from a friend (thanks Miriam!) in order to more accurately represent Sarah’s opinions here.

Sarah’s essay “The Writer’s I” reflects several of the issues I discussed in my original post. Jewish Writing can be defined by the author’s identity, by its subject matter, or can be considered a completely arbitrary label. She personally feels that “all three are right,” but admits the difficulty in establishing a single definition.

Sarah goes on to say that attempts to identify or define specifically Orthodox Jewish writing are even more complicated. Continue reading

Some clear ideas from the author of Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell

Wednesday’s L.A. Times online contains an intriguing interview with David Mitchell, the author of the novel Cloud Atlas, which has recently received renewed attention due to its film adaptation. Mr. Mitchell’s comments are worth reading, as they illuminate some of the points I’ve been blogging about recently.
On the topic of inspiration (see my original post here), Mitchell says:

I think Mr. Mitchell just blew some of those clouds away. It looks like smooth sailing ahead!

When I go to a place I get a number of free gifts. I get some good lines about the environment. If I was here for long enough, and could have a little time to walk around more thoughtfully, I’ll get five decent sentences. Or halfway decent sentences, or sentences I can make worthwhile. About the place; they’re textual photographs. I’m just in the habit of taking them. Maybe because it was a long time before I had a camera.

Do you jot them down?

Yeah. It gives you something to do in restaurants and not look like a sad sack. And also makes the staff nervous that you’re a reviewer, so they’re nice. You should try it, it works! If you get these free gifts, use them in the text, use them in the prose, use them in descriptions. Put them in and they’re lovely little things to find on the forest footpath of the story, of the book. 

What’s interesting about the process that David Mitchell so clearly describes is that its both what I’ve previously called “the flash” of inspiration AND “foraging” for it. Continue reading