Headshots

I have spent the last 3 evenings staring at my face. 130 images of my face, to be more precise. And it wasn't enough that I do it. I have forced family and friends to spend their free time staring at my mug as well.

My headshot photos are in. As a whole, I'm exceptionally pleased.  Out of 130 pictures we discarded half right off the bat. We narrowed it down to a broad 30 that were "maybe's" and then sent the photos out for feedback. We entered the responses in an Excel spreadsheet so we could track who liked what and where there was consensus (sometimes having a CPA for a husband really works to your advantage).  

We got it down to a final 12 and it was hard to pick from there, but I went with 4 that I'm pleased with. The only thing missing is that most of the shots are casual. I was hoping for one strictly business shot but those photos didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. Not the fault of the photographer, who was brilliant and who I HIGHLY recommend. No, I just didn't wear enough jewelry with the business outfit I chose and the result was that I looked kind of "incomplete." No harm done, as I still really like what I have. 

The photographer, btw, is Stacey Hines at staceyhines.com. She's from Nova Scotia and is settled now in Greensboro but still travels extensively for her work.  Exceptionally friendly and professional and did a wonderful job putting me at ease. I will use her for all my photo needs from now on.

I've just ordered the photos so I'll post them once they are mine to post.  Many thanks to those of you who looked through the photos without complaint!

Cabin Fever

Knowing what I know now, here's what I would have done differently for my Wildacres experience:

• I would have taken more fun or "intense" books to read. I took one wonderful manuscript of a friend and a bunch of "how to" writing books. Curling up at night with a book on how to write better dialogue wasn't cutting it. I would have been better off taking books I could get "lost" in to make the time go by.
• I would have gone out more. This was advice written by prior cabin dweller's in the journals. "Go to town, go out for a meal, leave the cabin," they urged.  But I was there to work! Surely three hours driving into town and hanging out would be wasteful. So I didn't go. But wish I had. I think a little more time spent around people during the week would have made me appreciate the alone time at the cabin.
• Worked on a different project. This one is a maybe. I spent all week working on my non-fiction book and accomplished a lot. The book was 90% written when I arrived but in desperate need of order and editing. So most of my time was spent cutting/pasting/editing and not writing.  I wonder if the experience would have been different if I had exhausted myself with some creative writing time. Still... the editing had needed to be done for a month and being at the cabin finally gave me the chance to sit down and knock it out. The book is close to done-done at this point. (Or, done enough that I'm ready to have it read and critiqued).

As it was, I spent so much time in the cabin (it rained a good deal which I kind of enjoyed. The cabin had a tin roof and the rain rustling in the trees heard through the open windows was pleasant) that I quickly grew weary of it. Coming back from a walk and walking the gravel drive that led to the cabin door, my body and mind would feel heavy. I'd sigh as I entered the room. I missed people. Specific people, yes. But even just having a body sitting in the chair next to me, not talking, would have been nice. I missed the presence of people.

I have to admit, I was disappointed in myself. I'd been so looking forward to this week of solitude. A whole week just to write and be creative! And yet I was ready to pack it up on day two. But I found comfort in a writer friend, a woman who I consider to be a gifted and "serious" writer. She spent a week at Wildacres last year and said she was unnerved by the experience as well.  She's done several residencies and said she's never had trouble anywhere else except Wildacres. It was just too much solitude. (She is also very into energies and she wonders if there is some sort of negative energy flow around the cabin or mountain). I don't know about that, but this woman is someone I would expect to thrive in this environment and the fact that she found it a challenge as well makes me feel better.

On the bright side, there is nothing like time away to make you appreciate what you have. Our home was in desperate need of a good cleaning and I cheerfully spent 4 hours Saturday morning whisking dust away, happy to be home and have the chance to do it.

This week is one I would normally describe as a "nightmare" of projects and talks and due dates, but I'm whistling as I go about my work. So much to be done--yea! What a full life I am fortunate to lead.  My meltdown on this blog last month about my doing waaaay to much volunteer work has changed over to gratitude. Being away reminded me why I'm involved with all the groups and projects that I am. It's because I like the people and the projects are important to me. That got lost in the "This is due now and I'm overwhelmed and stressed" living of daily life.  For the moment, at least, it's more "This is due now and I'm stressed but lucky me--I get to work on this."

Speaking of which, a multitude of projects are staring at me from my desk, awaiting my attention. Cabin Fever is gone, lots of good energy back in the worklife. So the cabin probably gave me what I needed after all.

Turns Out It Was the Sobbing Thing...

I'm back and so glad to be home! My house! My food! My husband! My cats! My TV! All here waiting for me... Life is good.

I'm laughing to myself as I think about composing this blog entry. What to say and how to say it so I don't come off appearing shallow and um, shallow. Oh, there's no hope for it. The truth will out!

I arrived Monday morning and settled into the cabin. Adorable, as you can see from the pictures. Snug, cozy and best of all, there were two full journals of entries from prior "cabin dweller's" as we're referred to by the people on top of the hill who run the non-profit corportate retreats.  I read a few entries and was comforted by what I found--prior artists just like me who were worried about wasting their WildAcres opportunity, were wondering if they really had anything to say and--also like me--were wondering if it was entirely safe out there in the wild? (There were also numerous entries about the little ring snakes and carpenter ants those in the summer months had to contend with. I wrangled with a beetle and a spider large enough to topple King Kong but other than that, the critters gave me the all clear).

It felt..odd...being in the cabin. I didn't know where to sit or what I should do with myself.  I decided I would spend some time just reading over my work so as to get in the groove.  I found myself in an intense hour-long writing session where the words just flowed. And had the added benefit that even 5 days later when I read them again, I still liked them.

The next day, Tuesday, was a good day. I got up and went straight to work. Worked unti about 2 then went for a two hour hike. (Why do forest people put smiling little cartoon snakes on path signs? If they're trying to make us feel welcome, it's not working...)  Came back, showered, a little more work and then dinner "up the hill."

It was 7:30 when I arrived back at the cabin. Still early. I tried to work a little more but felt burnt on that so I read. Lots of reading. And went to bed. Pretty much the same pattern on Wednesday except I noticed by Wednesday afternoon I was starting to view the cabin not as a hiatus, but as a prison.  More on this later.

I'd mentioned in my previous blog entry that I was looking forward to this time away as a means of finding out my "real" work schedule. Turns out my natural rhythm is in harmony with how my life is currently set out. I am not a late night writer. There were no 3 AM "Eureka!" moments.  I was still up early and exercised a bit before work. I was not interested in working much past 7 PM (although I did have one productive night where I made it until 9:30). But it turns out I am an early morning/early afternoon writer after all.

The biggest benefit gained from the cabin is learning how much time I take away from my writing due to distranctions.  At the cabin, there were 4 options - work, read, sleep, hike.  And at nighttime and on the days it rained, there were three.  Many was the time I didn't feel like working. I'd already worked 5 hours--I deserved a break, right? But there was nothing else to do so--sigh--I pulled the lapout back out. And accomplished a ton of work.

That doesn't happen at home where if I don't feel like working there is e-mail, TV, radio, I-pod, cats, laundry, mail, etc. to grab my attention. What I found is that even if I didn't feel like working, quite often once I sat down and got into it,  I didn't mind.  It made me realize just how often I don't "sit down" and give myself the chance to get into the work.

Even with that being said, nighttimes were rough for me. I longed for distraction and conversation. I was essentially alone 22-23 hours of each day.  By dusk, I was ready to talk and laugh and just be mindless. I almost broke down and drove to the nearest Wal-Mart 30 minutes away to purchase a video to watch on my laptop.  I intensely missed Blair and the cats. I took my cell phone up the hill where there was reception and left messages on my home and best friends answering machines, begging them to call me. When my friend Trisha called Tuesday evening she remarked, "I heard a little Jack Nicholson from The Shining in your tone. Everything okay there up in the hills?"

Tomorrow: How I became one with the spirit of early settlers who experienced the malady known as "Cabin Fever."

Writer's Retreat For A Week

It's finally here. Last year I applied for and was accepted at a residency program for artists. I'll be spending the coming week in a "rustic" cabin in the mountains of North Carolina, working on projects of my choosing.  There is no phone, no TV, no radio, no Internet. As I've told family and friends, a week of solitude will either deliver to me deep, personal insights about my calling and purpose in being on this planet or I'll spend the week huddled in a corner, rocking, sobbing, and systematically ripping a tissue to shreds.  We'll see...

For now, I can't wait. I have given myself mini-heart attacks this month, trying to clear my plate so I don't have looming deadlines hanging over my head while I'm away. I've been about 95% successful. There is one huge project that will require weeks of close attention when I return plus I'm MC'ing a humor contest for Toastmasters  three days after I return and was told I need to come up with "funny stories," but for the most part I'm working ahead of the game. 

I'm taking only 2 projects with me, both books in progress. One is non-fiction and the other is a middle-grade novel. That's it. No magazine articles, no business writing, no speechwriting, no other work.  Just books.

What I'm most interested in gleaning from this experience is how I function (or if I will function) with a lack of structure. My day-to-day life is pretty much scheduled in 1-2 hour chunks. I'm up every day at 5 to exercise. I have meetings all day on Wednesdays. Such and such is always due on such and such date. Very scripted.

At this retreat, all of that will be gone. I won't have to be up at certain time because yoga starts at 6 or I won't need to wind my work down by 6:30 if I want to spend time with Blair in the evening. There are no cats to be fed, laundry to be folded, meetings to prep for and attend. It's all wide open. With such freedom, I'm wondering when I'll find my best work times to be.  Will I stay on schedule as a morning writer (for the most part)? Or will I find I like to take a late afternoon nap and stay up in the wee hours of the night working? Maybe I'll discover I actually prefer to exercise at noon vs. 6 AM.  Maybe I'll sleep in 3 hour bursts or I may collapse for 12 hours at a stretch. Who knows? But doesn't it sound like fun to figure it out??

 So I leave you with the blog entry for the week and these final words of inspiration I take with me to the mountains:

"Writing is not a profession, occupation or job; it is not a way of life:
it is a comprehensive response to life."
Gregory McDonald

I hope you all enjoy your response to life this week.

Cheers,

Dena