peering out from the nest

I realize that these days most of my posts are centering around my writing.  Maybe that’s where my dark thoughts reside.  I certainly have a bit of anxiety revolving around my writing, as any good writer does.  To be entirely comfortable with writing is an eerie feeling–is it easy because it’s good?  Or is it easy because it’s bad?  Unfortunately, most of the time easy means it’s bad.

I’m heading into my final semester in my MFA program.  I’ll be booted out of the nest soon, supposedly with wings enough to fly.  Every year I go through a review of my writing program thus far, and what I want to accomplish in the semester ahead.  How do I get myself pumped up?  What are my short-term goals?  Long-term goals?  Have they changed at all?  What do I need now to survive and thrive?  What parts of myself are still tender?  How can I keep those parts still tender?

Every year I ponder my own writing, my stance as a writer, and question myself.  And then I proceed.  This year, I’m finding it more difficult to get myself revved up.  On the outside, I’m sure I look hyped, because I am The Kind of Chick Who Always Wants To Look Like She Has Her Shit Together.  But really, I’m finding myself a little bit on the edge these days.  This has nothing to do with my self-belief (it wavers yes, but it holds steady) or my desire to write (it holds steady too), but more of my sense of direction.

My novel has suffered from this directional wobble, too.  (Or is it that the wobble of my novel has me suffering as a writer)?

It comes as at interesting time.  My thesis has to be turned in within a couple of months.  A “perfect” manuscript, due to my thesis director and reader, for review.  This thesis is really my last opportunity in the MFA program to work under the tutelage of mentors.

And what I’m a bit frustrated about is this:  where ARE my mentors?

I’m going to do a bit more reaching out to them.  I found they were much more present last year–what was I doing differently?  Here I am, in the MFA program, where I am supposed to be supported (and really, I am in turn supporting them with my student tuition) and nurtured, and where are they?  Have I been churned out of the machine already?

I had a fantasy that I would keep in touch with my mentors in the MFA program, maybe even become friends with them.  I feel silly for even thinking that now.

I’m rethinking my scaffolding process for when I go out into the wild blue yonder.  What will I need for myself?  How will I go about getting those tools?  And still, how will I keep myself tender in the process so that I do not lose my heart?

music writing list

I have my rituals when I write. A cup of tea or decaf coffee, and a little cookie, pastry, or toast with butter and jam to keep me company. Comfy pants, comfy shirt. No brasierre. Sometimes on chilly days, a blue and green plaid flannel robe that I’ve had for nearly fifteen years. Often no makeup.

Writing is about getting myself into a totally comfortable, unguarded zone. This requires ritual and often, some low grade self-hypnosis via music. I like to listen to music with headphones on. Something about the headphones muffles out other background noise.

For many years, I could ONLY write with MY music writing playlist. It is about 50 songs long, playing out to over 4 hours. I would hit play, and keep writing until the last song on the list played. That was a nice routine. I like moody, melodic music. Think moody like the songs on “Grey’s Anatomy,” think melodic like Moby or moody like Sugur Ros. This music is somewhat different than the music I like to listen to in the car or with friends.

In lieu of that playlist, I’ll write to Mozart’s Requiem. Mozart’s Requiem is really good with short story writing.

While I’m at it–what do you listen to while you write?  (Have we just created a new meme)?

What is my “writing playlist?” Here it is: