It's Bound to Happen

This Friday, my writing is slotted to be discussed by my critique group. Creative Weapons is on the schedule at my regional Tae Kwon Do tournament. I am performing a solo piano recital. I don't know if the planets are aligned but my activities sure are.

Their times are scattered throughout the day so I toyed with the idea of doing all three. But who was I kidding? I don't change gear that fast and will end up botching everything.

So I switched with a critique group member and submitted last Friday. I will give up Creative Weapons and compete in Traditional Forms, Traditional Weapons, and Sparring on Saturday.On Friday, I will put on my musician hat and concentrate on my performance.

I wasn't going to spin this post into a writing-related one, but an idea just popped into my head. it may be telling, or at least fun, to pile on the responsibilities and events and trouble on your characters, to see what they are made of.

If I were a character in my story, I could potentially:

• with great joy, participate in all the events,
• shrink away and refuse to do anything
• make a decision but second -guess myself constantly.
  

With each of these decisions could be different outcomes:

• fail
  
• scrape by
• succeed spectacularly

[I found this picture at Ghost 19's blog]

We can have fun with how I deal with the outcome as well:

• become prideful
• lose all ability to take risks
• rise up to the challenge, and whether I fail or succeed, grow from a timid, overly-cautious person to a confident risk-taker

Another idea just popped into my head. How about this:

You write a scenario for me and I'll choose one that makes me spew coffee, weep, or call you to ask for an appointment for a therapy session.

Cool Prize! Don't know what yet. But Cool, definitely Cool!

Spread the word.

To those of my friends who come over from facebook, who don't post in the comments: you don't need a Blogger account to do so. Would love to hear from you as well!

Because the Bottle Looks Classy

The heirloom tomatoes are beautiful. The basil leaves are bright and fragrant. I was out of olive oil.



Have you been to the olive oil aisle lately? My eyes started swimming. Or maybe it was my brain that was gasping for air. Faced with rows of choices, I made up some quick basis for elimination. These ones are too expensive. Those have too much extraneous stuff: I don't need citrus-infusion and twigs of thyme in the bottle. Greek olive oils are too strong for this dish. These bottles are too big. Those are too small.

And still there are too many choices.

Pretty soon, I am rejecting bottles for random reasons: the label color is too trendy, the font is trying too hard to be old-world, the description has too many exclamation points.

All I want is a good-quality olive oil. Short of tasting every single bottle, how was I to decide? Are the oils described as" vibrant" the same as those described as "fresh?" What does "harmonious" mean? And how is "distinct" a helpful adjective? Why can't I remember any of the brands that I'd read in Cook's Illustrated or some other olive oil survey done in Simple Magazine?

In the end I bought an unfiltered extra virgin olive oil from Italy. I am sure I chose it in part because of ridiculous reasons: the pleasing shape of the bottle: straight sides, skinny; its plain label in a muted green and well-placed letters in a sans serif font; and descriptions that are devoid of hyperbolic claims and exclamation points.

Publishing is supposedly doing fairly well in the face of all the uncertainties of the industry and the wider economy. Books are still being published, lots of them. But when I browse in a bookstore, not even necessarily a big one, I feel the same way as I did in the olive oil aisle. How do I know?

In the end, I go with award winners and honorees, I go with authors I've read before, I go with recommendations from other readers, bookstore employees, librarians, blogger friends, I go with captivating titles and intriguing subject matters. I am sure book covers play a role in my decisions, unfortunately. I've come across many fine books but I can't help but fee las if I am missing out on some gems because they haven't managed to call themselves to my attention.

My olive oil tasted fine, by the way. Subtle and mild but not bland. But I wonder about that other bottle with the trendy label or the one who surely looks too common to taste good.

Small but not Insignificant

This week I've noticed of a number of the small, the minute in among the Big, the Important.


Small action: a senator casting a vote, inspiring an end of a stalemate and hopefully a start to something better.


Microstyle Writing Contest by Gotham. Expressive economy of words. Miniature messages.

THE PRIZE
The author of the winning entry will receive bragging rights and:

• 10-week Gotham Writing Workshop
• $50 Barnes & Noble Gift Card
• One-year Subscription to The Writer (12 issues)
• Microstyle: The Art of Writing Little

Description of a Man Booker Prize longlisted book

...concentration on isolating tiny fragments of experience and apprehension makes for an intense and immersive read...

Or maybe a lox party

I thought the pox party mentioned in M. T. Anderson's The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing book was scary. But that was before I heard about botox parties.


Next spring, you should come to my backyard and look at the flox. They're quite pretty.




[That's right, Yat Yee. Stay silent for weeks, then come back with a fluff post.]

I promise that substantive posts will be forthcoming, right after I get out of the enchanting and at times overwhelming forest filled with intriguing plants, blinding colors, and promising paths that is my life right now.

The YA novel is being revamped, the kids are at home, things are still being unpacked from three back-to-back trips, and thoughts provoked by recent TKD events are swirling around, attempting to become coherent.

But then it's summer. What did I expect, really?

Hang on while I go brandish my sword

I am fabulous at keeping all the threads of my life going smoothly at all times.

Not.

Over the past few weeks, I've been getting ready to compete at a huge Tae Kwon Do tournament. For a number of reasons, I am much more nervous about this one than any other, one of which is that I will be doing a form I choreograph myself. What was I thinking?!!!

So the preparation has been occupying my time and mind, leaving not much space for blog-writing. I did however, continue to work on my Work In Progress. I wanted to touch base with folks who check in periodically, to let you know what's going on.

Step-spin-hook-kick, here I come. No, maybe I should tweak the moves at the end of the sword form. No, maybe I should...

Love, glorious, multifaceted love

A day to celebrate the loves of our lives: it's...nice.

Consider my attitude Bah-Humbuggish if you wish, but even the most ardent celebrators of this holiday know that what we do on one day of the year is nothing compared to how we listen, serve, care for our loved ones in non-red-non-chocolate-non-roses ways the rest of the time.

In writing circles, we are reminded often to write what we love. And it's indeed true. If we didn't love what we did, many of us would have given up a long time ago.

But what are we talking about, this love of writing? Do we look forward every day to spending time with our words, our stories? Do we daydream of it? Do we get the heart palpitations and the delicious anticipation? Does tenderness fill our hearts?

Not often. Not for me anyway.

Sometimes I dread writing. Sometimes I get so uncomfortable I can't be still. I grumble. I cry. I long to do something else.

But I write. There is something deep and essential within me that can be accessed only when I write.

Not exactly romantic, reducing love to necessity.

But maybe romance isn't everything when it comes to love.

I don't fling my arms around my husband when I see him after work every day. The butterflies in my stomach have grown arthritic over the last twenty some years. We don't gaze into each other's eyes over dinner and forget about the food on the table. But there is no question that what I have is love. It's strong, it is deep, it has weathered much more than the fluttering hearts of our early romance could handle.

I love writing. And there isn't a chubby winged toddler with arrows in sight.

I'd be rich otherwise

[imagine mismatched socks instead of heels]

I am emerging a bit to let you know that a couple of unexpected events in my family's life have been all-consuming these past two weeks. I apologize for not updating this blog, especially since I was in the middle of a contest and especially, especially since I had a guest writer.

I hope to get my head back together and work on the unfinished business here.

And yes, I still want to write about my experiences at the martial arts tournament.

Thanks for your patience.

A brief note

I just came back from a big national martial arts tournament and my husband just returned from a 3-week business trip and so my attention is currently focused on non-blog related things.

Not surprisingly, experiences from the tournament have sparked off my thinking about writing and publishing. Stay tuned.

All is not lost: Resolutions part two

How did I do in my pre-resolutions? Why, thanks for asking. I failed probably half of them.

Writing every weekday at 10
Did it for a few days, then had to juggle the times. I did, however, get much better at sneaking in sentences here and paragraphs there in between opening presents and making crepes and playing Clue.

Practicing every weekday at 2:30
I kept having to change the time for appointments and volunteer schedule

TKD and exercise
Lots of work before my midterm and then there was baking and there were parties and...

Housework
When I reviewed my pre-resolutions mid-month, I realized this was the most neglected aspect and scrambled to make up for the neglect. But like brushing teeth, housework is something that has to be done consistently instead of in bouts of mad activities spaced too far apart.

And here I thought I was choosing things I could succeed in, but I misjudged my ability to not to stick to a plan. Sure I can blame it on December and festivities and having two kids underfoot, but no amount of blaming can change the fact that I didn't do what I thought I would.

What does this tell me? Well, that new habits are monstrous things and that I have an infinitely creative mind when it comes to procrastinating.

But all is not lost. I found a pattern with my procrastinating. And knowing my enemy is the first step at conquering it I say. Here is my weapon:

Every day, I will do something that I really do not want to do.

I am also going to steal Story Queen's resolution, which is

to laugh more.

And, one more, that I started doing for the past few years:

Cut 'em some slack

What do you think? Do you think I'll succeed?

Recipes ain't everything

The pastry shops I love keep going out of business.

The week before Maggie McCullough's closed some seven years ago, I bought all their brioche to put in my freezer. About three years ago, I brought my daughter to Babette's Feast to celebrate with her favorite pear tart as was our tradition, only to find a note taped onto the door. Not long ago, I stopped by the Belgian bakery in town and noticed it was now a bagel store. At least my daughter wasn't with me when I walked into the store.


The store looked more or less the same. The only difference is the food in the display cases. One was filled with bagels and the one that usually tested my willpower the most, the one showcasing beautiful cakes and tarts, was sparse and sad.


I asked for pear tarts, they had none. I looked at my other favorites: the almond croissants didn't have sliced almonds on the outside. The palmiers were thick and not of the right color.

(Rather then posting pictures of sad foods, I thought I'd post ones that reminded me of what used to be.)

"So, how long have you guys been here?" I asked, as nonchalantly and as non-accusingly as possible.

The woman behind the counter regarded me with suspicious eyes. "It's been a while."

I should have come more often, bought more pear tarts, helped them stay in business!

"We bought their business and all their recipes."

I looked up at her. There is hope yet. So what if the baked goods don't look the same. All I need is for them to taste the same. They have the recipes, so all is not lost!

I bought an almond croissant and a palmier and got into the car with my little baggie of hope. It was a while before I took my first bite because I knew my hopes would either be buoyed or shattered by it.

Recipes ain't everything.

The croissant was limp and unflaky and the inside undercooked. The almond paste was the only thing that tasted the same. The palmiers tasted the way they looked: inexperienced.

All those writing rules out there, they can't promise success. All the shows-don't-tells and three-act-arcs and what-the-character-wants will not give us the products that thrill and haunt and satisfy.

What will?

Recipes + experience + well-honed taste buds + desire + working at dawn everyday.

Oh, and maybe consumers who won't practice self-control when encountering our work.

Black Belts and Food Trucks

So I got my black belt.

The next morning, Saturday, I competed as a black belt for the first time--in a ring with 2nd- and 3rd-degrees who were mostly teenagers with a few state champions thrown in. Nothing quite like jumping into new challenges with both feet!

On Sunday, all adrenalin and energy deserted me all at once, it seemed, at 2:08 p.m., and I collapsed on the couch. Yes, you may watch TV, I told the kids. They chose the Food Network, which was running a marathon of the Great Food Truck Race as a lead up to their grand finale. And wouldn't you know it, several episodes later, I came away with some lessons learned that apply to writing and publishing.

A bit about the show. 7 teams set up their trucks for two days in different cities across the country. The team with the least sales amount in each city is eliminated. As with other reality shows, the producers throw in twists and turns in the forms of different challenges.

One team, the Nom-Nom truck, won in every single city. The reason was clear: they played smart. For example, before arriving at their first city, they called ahead to place an ad and had lines waiting for them before their competitors could even set up shop. In another city, every team was given a frozen quarter of beef as a challenge and many of those teams knew nothing about butchering. Some of them simply did the best they could, wasting precious time and not doing a good job. But the Nom-Nom team knew their limitations, and asked/hired a butcher to cut it all to specs.

After a few cities, a number of the other teams started to figure out their strategies and stepped their own game up. One team, Grill 'Em All, in particular tried to beat the Nom-Nom team at their own game. In one challenge, Grill 'Em All and Nom-Nom had to prepare each other's food: Vietnamese Bahn mi sandwich and hamburgers. The GEL guys hunted down a Bahn mi shop and bought all the ingredients: marinated beef, sauces, veggies, already cut up. Unfortunately, they still lost that challenge.

Every team had a good product. Each was given the same information and seed money. Why did the teams fare so differently?

Many unpublished writers have the message and the craft, why do some succeed, and others not? Some of the reasons are out of our control. The leader of the Nom-Nom team had probably the most photogenic face. And much as we like to pretend beauty makes no difference, it does. But no one on the other teams begrudged (out loud, at least) her good genes. They did their thing as best as they knew how, work hard, tried to be open to new ideas.

Then there was the Ragin' Cajun incident. This team parked at a horrible spot in one of the cities and had no customers. The leader freaked out and tried to drum up sales by using his megaphone and calling out to passers-by, but to no avail. The next morning, he started at it again, but he was much more successful, primarily because he quit being the crazy guy on the street yelling at you to go eat his food. He became the charmingly wacky guy doing his best to persuade you.

I could so relate to that poor, desperate man going red in the face on that first evening, Please, gentle readers, if you sense a whiff of my going insane in public, please stop me.


What this show reaffirms to me is that, to be successful, I have to:

• have an excellent product
• not bury my head in only creating this product
  
• get the message out there
  
• learn about my customers
• realize that strategies and careful planning can have a lot of impact
  
• be willing to adapt

But this is not the end of the story.

The Nom-Nom truck had been the clear favorite. But in the end, they lost the final challenge to Grill 'Em All, a team that makes hamburgers.

This team was almost always at the bottom in every city, yet they scrounged up new enthusiasm after every setback. Nobody on their team would make it to the cover of GQ magazine, and the one time they felt super confident about winning a challenge--by getting the ingredients for making Bahn Mi ready made--they didn't. They were definitely the underdogs. And I love it when underdogs win.

To all my fellow pursuers of a seemingly unattainable goal, to all my fellow underdogs, to all my fellow dreamers: here's to a rich journey and a satisfying end.

Stay tuned for the next installment of musicspeak

...which will air in its regular time next Thursday. Right now, I can't focus very well on anything besides Tae Kwon Do. You see, I am testing for my first degree black belt tomorrow.

[Hopefully I will be able to post a picture of me wearing the black belt soon]

I just completed a paper as part of its requirement, and passed the most nerve-wrecking segment of the test: the all-or-nothing test. As the name suggests, if I don't do everything completely well, I lose all the stripes that I had been gradually collecting over the last few months. Tomorrow evening, I will test in front of all my fellow candidates, family and friends. There will be three Masters among the panel and assorted other high-rank black belts.

So, yes. Efforts to point my mind towards music and writing have lost dismally to the self-preservation mode of preparing mentally and physically for TKD.

If you're interested, here's an older post I wrote when I first got my brown belt and the challenges that followed.

Wish me lots of stamina and balance and speed and power and no creaky joints!

It's September and I'm back

My sabbatical from blogging has been a good one. It has allowed me distance and given me time to consider some questions about the blog and its place in my writing life. I have not made new discoveries, just affirmed earlier thoughts, such as:

• There are more blogs I want to read than there is time to do so;
• I have not been using my experiences as a musician much; and
  
• I really appreciate the my blogging community.

Making choices is the hardest when the options are not clearly right/wrong, but I have made mine. To pursue a huge online presence, to gain large numbers of followers, to comment on every blog I enjoy: these are no longer top priority.

Not only did these activities take massive amounts of time, they exerted a pressure on my psyche as well. I am not a person who can process all the information and share in all the emotional highs and lows and then be able to put all that aside to focus on writing. I am now choosing to limit how much my mind has to process and my emotions be affected so that I can participate fully in each experience and still have what I need to be a writer.

On a more upbeat note, I realize that I have not focused much on my other love, music. After ignoring my piano for a long while, I am practicing regularly again. There are so many parallels between the writing life and the musical life that I can't believe how little of that has been highlighted in this blog.

The practical outcome of these thoughts?
I will post twice a week, one to focus on music and how it relates to writing, and the other will be on whatever is on my mind. I will still, as I have been during my blogging pause, visit and comment on the blogs in my community, only less frequently as before. I still love you guys!

Oh, and btw, like my new look?

An update on my endurance adventure

Since I received so many well wishes when I posted about my struggle with my non-stamina body and my quest to conquer it with the baby-step of getting a brown belt, I thought I'd give you an update.

First, brown belt: earned. What did I have to do? Seven different forms (a form is a choreographed series of moves that involve kicks, punches, blocks, etc.) which come up to 220 moves in total + mock sparring. I completed every form with only one bobbled kick. My yells did, however, sound progressively more like moans as the forms got longer and harder but I could still breathe at the end.

This was the sweetest belt I'd ever earned because it was significantly more demanding than the belt before.


Two days later, I competed at a regional tournament and got first place in my age group. Not a huge group but a nice pat on the back nevertheless.



Cloud nine. All of that.

Best case scenario: this successful attempt at a goal that had seemed out of reach would inspire a new goal and energize an on-going fitness routine.

Real case scenario: getting sick after all the excitement and extra strenuous work-outs.


The week after the Big Weekend of testing and tournament, I was still carried along by the leftover high and could excuse myself for feeling winded because of the sickness. But the couple of weeks after that, it felt as if I had never improved my endurance at all. I couldn't run for even two minutes, I was breathing hard on the elliptical on the usual settings, I couldn't finish doing all the forms.

Had I used up all the cumulative hard work in one testing and now had to start again? Or had the one week of being sick and not exercising canceled everything ? Or had I been carried merely on adrenaline and wishful thinking that could not be sustained?

TKD classes during those weeks were torturous. I kept having to take breaks. While everyone else in my sparring class was still bouncing on their feet and laughing during their third match, I had to sit down and remove all my gear because I was over-heated and my heart was leaping out. The worst came three weeks after the new session began. In the middle of practicing a new form, I got dizzy and landed right on my well-padded dorsal area. (Bonus for anyone who can tell me which character from a book I highlighted recently on my blog discovered the use of this term.) I just sat there, stunned, at how weak I felt. And then I felt angry and disappointment.

My instructor asked about my diet and hydration and told me to take it easy. My fellow students patted me on the back. I went out after class and got a large, blended, whole milk mocha and stewed for the rest of the afternoon. And stayed stewing and not exercising for a few days after that.

Then I got my sneakers back on and decided that if I couldn't run, I'd just walk. If I couldn't finish doing my forms, I'd just do however many I could. If my regular settings on the elliptical were too hard, I'd dial it back to minimal. I simply had to get back out on my feet and ignore the questions of why I felt so unconditioned and weak. Or if I would ever get anywhere. The only certainty I knew was that doing anything was better than doing nothing.

This week I am feeling better, although what I am able to do is far from what I had been able to do a month ago. Who knows why. It's frustrating but if I don't put a lid on "but I could do better before!" and keep moving forward, then the two months of working toward a goal I didn't think I could was just a fluke. And that is not acceptable.


[An afterword}

I had started writing this post a week ago but couldn't finish it. I came back to it today because I'm stuck, stuck, STUCK on my current revision. The feeling is almost identical to what I felt few weeks ago. Writing this post has turned out to be therapeutic. Life sure has a way to using different experiences to teach us the same thing. And the thing I have to learn now is: don't give up; setbacks will happen; move forward no matter how I feel.

Tanita Davis posted a poem the other day with a line that I will tattoo on my mind:

That if you make the effort, you cannot fail.

Wish I were a more productive multi tasker

Some weeks I spend a lot of time blogging: writing posts, visiting my favorite blogs, and participating in discussions.

This hasn't been one of those weeks. I've missed my own Grab-A-Line Monday post--I promise I'll be back next week!--and have not mustered up enough energy to compose comments on the blogs that I have been reading.

One reason: I'm gearing up for my TKD belt testing and am particularly nervous right now because I couldn't practice last week due to sickness and now I worry about my endurance and balance. (Honestly, Sir, my balance is off purely because of the migraine headaches!)

And the better reason is: I've been able to restart my writing flow again. My WIP has been neglected for a few weeks because I've gone back to my first novel, to polish it (for the 179th time!) I don't know how other writers work, but when I concentrate on one type of work: revising/editing, I can't seem to switch my mind to other types, say writing new scenes or journalistic articles (my Examiner.com gig is suffering as well.)

Now that I am able to tap into the write-new-work mindset, I am going to ride it. Blogging and commenting and supporting my fellow bloggers will have to take a back seat, but I hope you understand.

[17/365 Furiously Writing by Vinni123; Writing=Breathing by Joe in DC. Both found on Flickr Commons]

On genes and endurance and writing

When I wrote my post on the study showing that 20% of the population will not increase their endurance by training, I knew I would get some wonderful comments, and I did. I am lucky to have some very wise people check in on my blog.

It is so true, genes or no genes, talent or no talent, what matters is that we do: run, write, practice. Whatever tendencies our make-up predispose us to don't have the last say on what we choose to do. If our passion and our talents mesh: great. If we have the passion but no talent*: who is to say we can't pursue those passions and derive as much meaning and richness from them?

*Besides how do we know if a person has talent?

Lance Armstrong supposedly has a huge heart--I am talking about the physical muscle here, not the seat of emotions/ spirit--and an extraordinary capacity to use oxygen. He also loves cycling long distances. Perfect combo. Throw in determination and hard work and training and there you have it: a super star.

If it doesn't quite work out that way, if we have a regular size heart and our muscles don't process lactic acid easily and we still want to cycle: throw in the determination and hard work and still do it. Maybe the yellow jersey won't be ours, but the feelings of accomplishment, the pride in persevering, the enjoyment of the process: if these things could be quantified, they could very well match Lance's.

I am particularly interested in endurance because all my life I've felt trapped in a no-stamina body. I've allowed the disappointment and shortcoming to steer me away from anything that requires stamina. Oh, I was an active child, running on the playground, playing the game dujour of the week with my friends, but I didn't compete in anything that involved running, except for the one race where competitors had to do some math problems on a small chalkboard in the halfway point of the race (I know, some teacher was trying to be creative and help us nerds during Sports Day).

But now I have a new goal, I want to earn my black belt in TKD. So far my physical limitations haven't deterred my progress much, but at my next belt testing, I have to do all the forms I've learned so far, including the one I am working on right now, seven forms, with a total of I don't know how many steps. My biggest obstacle is not memorizing the forms but being able to do them all back to back without passing out.

In other words, my stamina is being called for, big time.

So I have been training, trying to include more running in my walk/run routines, practicing going through all the forms at half speed and half strength, hoping to increase in stages.

And not seeing as much progress as I'd like.

Very discouraging.

Then this article came out and I didn't know if I was more relieved (I am not a freak of nature!) or discouraged (I'll never go beyond what I am capable right now!)

Ice cream got involved, but so did some very stubborn practicing: "Not only am I not going to pass out after the seventh form, I am going to go through the whole series twice! So there!"

I don't have a success story to tell you (yet?) I still feel I can't possibly jog for more than a few minutes at a time, and one day very soon, I WILL pass out on the floor while sparring. But my sneakers are on, I am still doing what I can.

To quote some wise people:

Never underestimate the power of hard work.


maybe they won't be able to run 5 miles, but they'll definitely be stronger than before.


I'm certainly not ready to take a seat in the bleachers and give up yet.



Even if I learned I would never will be a marathon runner, I could still enjoy being outside. I say keep the sneakers and jog around the park.

Thoughts, mostly obvious, occasionally profound, and sometimes disconcerting

As I promised in an earlier post, I will jot down some of the thoughts and questions that have been swirling around in my mind, and the conclusions i have chosen to arrive at. Many of them are so obvious that it embarrasses me to have to put them down, but knowing they are available to anyone who has any interest to read, keeps me a little bit more accountable than if they existed only in my mind.

Conclusion #1
Some things in life can be controlled, others cannot

"Well, duh!?"

I hear ya.

But the complication comes with not knowing which things are in which category. Eat healthy you say? All right then, let's buy us lots of fresh veggies and fruits. But then do I know if pesticides have been sprayed on those beautiful green leaves, and whether the brightly colored oranges have been picked when they were light green and kept so long that there is hardly any vitamin C left?

Exercise to lose weight, you say? Sure thing. Pull on the sneakers and strap on the willpower. But as you decrease food intake and increase energy output, your metabolic rate starts to do through a complicated series of events to compensate.

Write well and learn the publishing process and maximize your chances of getting published? You fill in the blanks.

So the only way to live based on this conclusion is: approach every task as if I have full control but think about outcome with the understanding that I actually have none.

And try to convince my emotions that it is just fine.

iPad, what else?

Dreamy, easily persuaded, excited-about-new-possibilities Yat-Yee:

I drool.

Practical, stingy, cynical, waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop Yat-Yee:

Let those crazy early-adopters find out all the flaws and work out the kinks.

Always-with-the-questions Yat Yee:

Why is the iBook application so late in the demo and so short? And couldn't they just have something cool for the bookworm without having to appease the gamers and the music video maniacs?

What I talk about when I talk about my attitude for the new year

I started writing this post on the first day of the new year and the new decade. Sitting in a quiet and empty house after two weeks of family festivities, I found myself with the desire to set up resolutions as well as a reluctance. Visits to other blogs and casual conversations showed me that I was not alone. The aversion to making resolutions is due in large part to how often they cannot be kept. Yet something about a passing of a time pauses us, causing us to reflect, and urges us to do something about what the introspection reveals.

So I thought, and wrote, and deleted, and wondered, and thought more, then read some blogs, and wondered more.

Now here I am, toward the end of January, and still have not corralled my thoughts into a meaningful whole. What is a writer to do?

Read, of course.

My brother-in-law loaned me a book by novelist Haruki Murakami: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running when he visited over the holidays. (Here's an interesting interview at The Salon.) Murakami, an avid runner who runs at least a marathon a year, recorded his thoughts on running in this book. Being a novelist as well, he's included his experiences on writing as well.

Having been as far away from a runner as a person with healthy legs can be, I would not have picked up this book. Yet it is here that I found a passage that helped me deal with my dilemma.

Here he is, talking about how he started with this book:

It's been some ten years since I first had the idea of a book about running, but the years went by with me trying out one approach after another, never actually settling down to write it. Running is sort of a vague theme to begin with, and I found it hard to figure out exactly what I should say about it.

At a certain point, though, I decided that I should just write honestly about what I think and feel about running and stick to my own style.

One thing I noticed was that writing honestly about running and writing honestly about myself are nearly the same thing.

No need to strive for pithy sayings that capture universal truths; no need to shed light on Life; no need to encompass everything I feel. Just write honestly.

Over the next few weeks, i will be posting thoughts about my 2009 and hopes about 2010, maybe throw in a few more Murakami quotes and see where I end up. I hope you'll chime in and let me know how your year is going.

An update

Those of you who've come by recently (thank you so much for visiting and leaving comments; I love hearing from you) must have noticed I am now blogging more regularly. Since I've received so many good wishes when I first told you of my husband's diagnosis, I feel I should let you know what's going on in that part of my life.

Big news: treatments are OVER. Six+ months of chemo and surgery and related complications are finally behind us. He is now going to be observed regularly. The first set of scans seem good. So it's upward and onward from here.

We are learning how to live normal lives again, meaning lives that don't revolve around schedules for doctor visits/hospital stays/blood work/medicine/temp-taking. It's remarkable how tricky that can be!

During my hiatus from the blog, I've been thinking about how blogging fits into my life. It would be great if I had a succinct and profound point to make right now, but I don't. I do have some ideas though and hope to share them with you.

I was going to re-start my blogging with some of these ideas or thoughts about the new year, but what with all the news and contests, I have chosen to delay those posts. I will get to them, soon, and I hope to see you back.

Tomorrow: my favorite books of 2009.