Saying No to Unpaid Work Gracefully and Respectfully

As a poet, adjunct professor and independent writing coach, I don't make a lot of "extra" money. Sometimes doing something for free - like a one time writing workshop - helps to support another organization while spreading the word about my services. And sometimes I (probably like you) am simply asked to work for free. 

The thought of losing potential income and, perhaps most importantly, time, angers me. Why would someone ask me to give away my expertise?

I recently stopped paying attention and asked someone for advice without considering that she probably charges for such work. (We all make mistakes; I was very sorry about this.) I was, amazingly, rewarded with a beautiful rejection note that inspired me to better respect others while teaching me how to say, "no." Here is her response, edited for writers: 

I would love to devote more time and energy to this conversation, but the unfortunate reality is that writers are very often approached to provide free labor on things like this. We simply can't say yes to everything the way we want too. I didn't want to leave you with nothing, so I hope the resources below are helpful. If you'd like to talk more extensively, I can happily arrange a coaching session in which I can give you my undivided attention (insert link here.)

My Brand of Optimism in 2016

Spotted at Powell's bookstore in Portland, Oregon

Here's my brand of optimism: F*ck it. One day we'll be dead. So we must do what we want to do before that day comes. 

My adult memoir writing workshop students laugh when I say that, but I mean it. We only have so much time and that should motivate us to meet our goals.

With that in mind: Welcome to 2016! Cheers to writing, reading, spending time with people we love and resting. Yes, resting, too. We must honor our minds and bodies so we are capable of meeting our goals.

For more specifics on creating writing goals and how to meet them, here's a recent post on my writing coach blog. 

Writing Isn't Playing Hooky

Giacometti and Calder at the National Gallery of Art

Writing isn't playing hooky from your job, family or endless chores. And that can be hard to remember, especially on a writing day that feels so delicious.

The other day, I had a meeting close to the Mall and spent the afternoon wandering in art museums and writing tentative lines in a notebook. I felt like I was cheating. Other people on the street were rushing in uncomfortable heels while I wrote before art.

That afternoon was just the jolt I needed to return home to edit, revise, cut and otherwise strengthen old poems while drafting new ones. We easily get stuck in writing and life ruts. Seeing something new or looking closely at something old in a new way can be just the muse we need.

Of course, writing is work. It takes concentration and careful study of published work and your own work as you craft your voice, form, words and ideas. Always remember why we write: to understand and experience the joy of that understanding. It doesn't always come and sometimes it need to be more than gently pushed, but it can happen.

In 2016, I hope to spend at least four quiet afternoons looking and thinking. What do you do to nudge yourself back to and further along in your writing? How do you return to that writing joy?

Writers Write (And Think About Writing)

Noticing the world around us is the first step to writing

At a party this weekend, someone asked me if it is true that writers can't help but write.

"Yes," I answered enthusiastically, hoping that he didn't notice that I was blushing.

With all of my scheduling time to write, piles of books to read and lists of ideas and submission deadlines, I haven't been writing this year. Not really. My son has been sick, I've been sick, my husband's been sick, and I'm busy with teaching, not to mention laundry, cleaning up and more cleaning up after a toddler.

Writers write and I should be writing.

As ambiguous and wishy-washy as this sounds, I've been thinking a lot about writing. Lines of poetry have come and gone and some of them have been written down. I've noticed sunlight on the floor and my son's dimple and tried to memorize these images with words.

I have been blogging, which is writing, although different from poetry writing, and teaching writing. I think and talk about writing all day. Last month I went to a poetry reading and drafted one (terribly emotional and not-for-public-viewing) poem.

Writing is how I comprehend the world. Chosen words placed in a particular order and the pauses between them allow me to make sense of things, whether I've read or written them. I leave you with these lines from a poem by Gregory Orr:

from Untitled {a house just like his mother's}
by Gregory Orr

A house just like his mother’s,
But made of words.

(...)

Did I mention
That everyone he loved
Lives there now,

In that poem
He called “My Mother’s House?”

Thankful TO…

Americans like to give thanks at their Thanksgiving dinner. As an atheist, this is sometimes troubling: Who are you thanking? Why do you deserve your good fortunes? Does someone else not deserve what you have? The mantra that “working hard” gets you what you “deserve” suggests that those with less privilege or a less fortunate background didn’t work hard. Or they didn’t fight against a system that failed them from the beginning, which made hard work necessary, perhaps, to even survive, let alone succeed.

This season I challenge you to thank someone in particular who contributed to what you have. I hope you’ll let them know that you appreciate their actions, presence or gift.

Here’s my partial list:

I’m thankful to my parents for teaching me to make education a part of my life, not just the classroom experience.

I’m thankful to my great Aunt Dora for encouraging me to make (sometimes hard) choices that “progress” my dreams.

I’m thankful to my husband for our many adventures, from far away lands to reading new books with our son.

I’m thankful to my husband for his encouragement to write, write, write.

I’m thankful to my son for his curiosity and courage as he tries new things, falls and gets right back up again.

I’m thankful to the many resources I had available to me to find trustworthy, attentive and kind babysitters to watch my son with while I work.

I’m thankful to the daycare where he’ll be starting this winter for their many resources, space and attention to the children in their care.

I’m thankful to the internet, phones and U.S. postal service for keeping far away friends close.

I’m thankful to the city of Washington, D.C., and our many city and federal programs that provide libraries, parks, well-lit streets, reliable public transportation, clean air and water and more for its residents.

I’m thankful to the many supermarkets near us that provide a wide selection of food to prepare. 

I’m thankful to my employers for the intellectual challenge that is teaching and the paychecks that help to provide food, housing and the basics, as well as other things, like books.

I’m thankful to my students, especially when they ask questions that challenge my teaching skills and knowledge of subjects.

I’m thankful to my education for giving me the resources to know how and where to ask for help when something isn’t right. That is to say, I’m thankful to my parents for my education, both at home and at school.

We should all be in a position to be thankful to services and regular income for shelter, food, clothing, education, health care and more. Help to make that possible for someone else this season and throughout the year by donating to or volunteering with your favorite charity.

We are partial to So Others May Eat and will be participating in their annual Trot for Hunger. See you there?

Flexibility

Making time to play and explore

I'm not that flexible. I can barely touch my toes anymore and I hate to leave a mess in the sink. This lifestyle doesn't describe parenting, which consists of many unplanned and messy moments.

Parenthood requires you to make a plan (naps, feedings, playdates), but then change it as necessary, which is more often than I ever imagined. There is always work, housework and other things to do, but if baby needs you, he needs you. Writing is the same.

Sometimes I feel creative and produce new poems. Light, images, words and flavors inspire metaphors and connections. Other times I feel more definitive and can edit, cut and organize my writing. Long stretches of uninterrupted time serve both approaches well.

Time, let alone long stretches of uninterrupted time, don't generally exist for me anymore. And the list of things to do is longer than ever.

I'm learning to take deep breaths, let my shoulders relax and try to juggle the joys, work and sudden emergencies. By trying to be more flexible and respond to what's happening in that moment, there have been discoveries - an impromptu fort with a blanket over out of place chairs or a sorting game based on tossed washcloths on the floor.

The same can happen with poems - the hot sun is behind clouds and it is a perfect opportunity to go out for a walk, regardless of the state of the (particularly dirty) laundry. Look how the sunlight peeks through the clouds and a deer walks across the sidewalk towards the park. And look at how my son notices the shadows, too, as he moves his hand around in the air and watches the sidewalk shadows.

You never know what happens, but it won't happen if you only follow your prescribed plans.

I need to keep remembering that.