Reading, Writing, and Returning

My business trip to Toronto was encouraging and depressing at the same time. I learned a lot about the latest and greatest breakthroughs in psychiatry. I also learned how little we really know about the brain, its chemistry, and what really works for a multitude of disorders. It was a similar dichotomy on the personal level: I had a great room, enjoyed some nice food, and had 5 mornings that started, miraculously, with uninterrupted showers. But I missed my family and hardly saw Toronto.

Sitting in lectures for 9+ hours per day was pretty grueling, even when the speakers were super smart and compelling. In between, I needed to think of anything but psychiatry. I was able to use some breaks as small windows for reading and writing. That silver lining, which I anticipated, is still shining for me.

On one break I walked down the block to Chapters and bought 3 hardcover books, a big deal for me! As a rule I oppose hardcovers: more money for the same text, and much harder to manage in the bathtub. But these titles just screamed to be bought.

Live What You Love: Notes from an Unusual Life was an easy, colorful read that set the tone for the others. Bob and Melinda Blanchard certainly do have an unusual life. They live part time in Vermont, part time in Anguilla. The book might be categorized as self-help lite, because it does offer gentle suggestions between chapters. Mostly, however, it’s a quirky, non-chronological memoir. Before finding success with their island restaurant, Bob and Melinda started and ended a lot of businesses. They fretted over a sick child. They slept in a VW bus. They moved away, and moved back home. Their message, which I needed to hear, was to try new things without fearing failure.

The Lie that Tells a Truth is another form of encouragement, which I hope will get me over another fear. John Dufresne’s chapters on writing fiction are witty and worthwhile. The chapters end in exercises and the margins are chock full of quotes. I like this one by Patricia Hampl: Refuse to write your life and you have no life. To a nonwriter this must sound fanatic. But every writer gets this, I think. Writing has become like breathing to me (except that at this point in my life I must hold my breath and then hyperventilate when I can!).

Writer’s Idea Workshop: How to Make Your Good Ideas Great by Jack Heffron really stole the stage. I had a few moments to do some of the exercises, and suddenly had a really powerful idea! I scribbled some details and used lunch, the airport, and my flight home to flesh out two chapters for a new book. It is very much like being in love. On the one hand, I wanted to tell everyone about my revelation (and of course no one was around). On the other hand, I didn’t want to dilute it by sharing it. I am favoring this impulse and will not blab too much about it until the proposal is accepted. It’s a unique spin on writing and mothering, with some history thrown in, and I am so excited about it! (I may write to Mr. Heffron to inform him that his book has magical powers.)

I hope to spend Tuesday on a mini-writing retreat. Gavin will be in school, so I can turn my full attention back to my infant book. I’ll look forward to it all weekend. In the meantime, the joy of being back home is still new. I swear Gavin has matured since I left: suddenly he is a sophisticated wit. His language seems more subtle and smart. Tom noticed it too, so it is not just some weird perception from being away. I got home Wednesday night but insisted we leave the sign up on the front door: Welcome home, Mommy. We missed you. These were the best words I read all week.