On to December

If you ask me, November slipped right on by. The leaves fell off the trees, Thanksgiving dinner came and went—and we’re still coming up with creative ways to eat leftovers (hello turkey and dumplings)—and now here we are, putting up the twinkle lights.

Usually, I’ll keep some semblance of homeschool going during Thanksgiving break, but we took the week off and it was glorious. Or I did, anyway. My oldest has been writing a massive 30-page report on snakes for funsies, and my youngest has been doodling up a storm, using her newfound spelling skills to label her illustrations. She’s still at that age where she doesn’t see the sense in vowels.

Can’t say I blame her. The English language is a mysterious thing.

This month, I finished reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott—for the second time, as it turns out. I hadn’t realized I’d already read it until I updated my progress on Goodreads when I was finished, and yep. There it was, already on my read list from back in 2014 with a 3-star rating. I guess I enjoyed it more this time around.

There was a point in time before I had kids when I was going to take writing seriously, and then a “real” job came along to distract me. That was over a decade ago now. Weird.

I think about how much different my life was then than it is now, and I can see why I might not have been as into the book back then. For one, I hadn’t written much. Hadn’t developed a daily writing practice this involved, or even really considered myself “a writer.” I saw it as an earned title rather than something intentionally embodied.

For another, I hadn’t yet spent much time looking critically at other people’s writing, which is a whole skillset in itself. One I’m not particularly suited for due to my preference for direct truths delivered bluntly but respectfully. That’s not usually how people like their feedback, it seems. Or maybe you just need to reach a certain caliber to pull it off.

But things have changed. If I could go back in time and tell younger me what to do, I would’ve told her to stay at home. Keep writing. And stop trying to make it work with spiral notebooks—use your laptop, damnit.

Anyway, here are a few things I underlined from the book:

“Your three-year-old and your work in progress teach you to give. They teach you to get out of yourself and become a person for someone else. This is probably the secret to happiness.”

I definitely relate to this differently now after becoming a mom.

“Annie Dillard has said that day by day you have to give the work before you all the best stuff you have, not saving up for later projects. If you give freely, there will always be more…It is only when I go ahead and decide to shoot my literary, creative wad on a daily basis that I get any sense of full presence.”

The makings of a New Year’s resolution.

“The only thing to do when the sense of dread and low self-esteem tells you that you are not up to this is to wear it down by getting a little work done every day.”

I always say: create a little every day to keep existential depression at bay.

“Writing a first draft is very much like watching a Polaroid develop. You can’t—and, in fact, you’re not supposed to—know exactly what the picture is going to look like until it has finished developing.”

This makes me feel better about first drafts. And life.

Anyway, on with December. I’m glad we’re here. I really do love this time of year, and I’m determined not to ruin it by procrastinating on Christmas gifts or holiday baking as usual.

Wish me luck.

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