I don’t know how much about my life with breast cancer I want to blog about. But I’ve started an FB page to share this experience for what it’s worth. The FB page feels more conversational and more immediate. But the page isn’t for everyone. The blog format isn’t really working for me on this.
Anyway.
Click through and like if it’s a conversation you’re interested in: A Journey through the Carcinoma Wonderland.
Thanks.
I’ve started several blog posts that I haven’t finished. Percocet took over and I couldn’t think. And everything I write seems ridiculous. Trite. Meaningless.
I don’t have anything to add to the cancer narrative. I can’t add any original observations.
I’ve started reading two breast cancer memoirs. I finished the first chapter of one of them and now I can’t decide if I want to continue reading it. Her story is compelling and she’s honest, and I’m sure it is a worthwhile read (several people highly recommended the book), but I really can’t relate to the beginning of her story.
She went to a strip club when she found out she had breast cancer.
While many women have written about their experience, certain things about the disease are very personal. And how you feel about your body is an issue with this disease. How society feels about your body is part of this disease.
All of this makes certain aspects of the disease hard to talk about. Near impossible for me. Im happy to tell you about drains and medications and tissue expanders and chemo. That’s the easy stuff.
I keep dreaming about strange rooms, houses, apartments, filled with stuff, so much stuff that I keep realizing there is more stuff in them than I thought and someone or people come in and take the stuff away. In the dream, I can’t decide what to do, but I’m surprised at all the stuff and surprised that people want to take it away from me, and half the time I’m not dressed properly so I can’t do anything because I’m trying to find my clothes.
It’s something like that.
trying to relax
I’ve almost forgotten I blog.
Heading toward the Christmas season things took an unexpected turn. A routine mammogram ended in a biopsy and two surgeries, and I can’t say it’s all done yet. The main distraction is the incision that has continued to bleed for over a week.
There are plenty more serious health issues in the world, and I’m trying to keep this in perspective. But as far as annoyances go, seeing bandage after bandage fill with blood whether at work, hanging with the kiddo, or sleeping is maddening. Who wants to leave blood on sheets and pillows, bathrobes, towels, and bras?
Perhaps that is too much information. I might be beyond caring. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I knowledge of things like breast cancer was very limited. I had some understanding of chemo (No verdict yet on whether I’ll need radiation. Might not.) and like most of us I’ve seen all those pink ribbon campaigns, but it might have been helpful to have heard specifics. Have you ever had those moments when you look at a cut or a bruise or something not right on your body and you wonder, “Is it supposed to look like that?!”
It’s been a distraction.
With any luck, the worst of this is over and I can think. MOst of the time I don’t feel like I’m thinking. I just feel like I’m moving on to the next thing that needs to get done. Do you ever feel that way?
But I am still working on the line edits for my novel. That isn’t going to come out when I originally thought. Things have fallen behind. But my publisher and I are getting there, and that’s what matters.
an effort to draw a horse
A person is supposed to try new things, right? Like a year and a half ago I began speed quad skating. I thought it was a crazy thing to do, but now I love it.
In art, I’ve drawn a few things I didn’t think I could. Like a whale and a tiger. (Not together, mind you.) But I’m taking a break from art shows. I need something different to justify another show.
I want to try a comic. Or graphic novel. Whatever you prefer to call it. I have these two characters–Ink and Mirabelle–who are bunnies. Maybe I loved Watership Down too much as a kid. The story lines wouldn’t be about action, just their relationship. Maybe that’s boring? But Ink loves Mirabelle but Mirabelle being up on the moon more than she loves being on the earth with Ink. He tries so hard to persuade her to come back to him.
Ink and Mirabelle
And I want to write a series, but I’m not sure about that. Mostly I like the idea of being able to follow a character for more than one book. Creating a world and being able to go back there time and time again. The manuscripts I have written do take place in the same town (mostly), and some of the characters overlap. A main character in one story is a secondary character in another, and then has a tiny walk-on part in yet another. Maybe that can get too twee, but if I feel the character belongs there, I love doing that.
And I would love to try animation. Unfortunately, I don’t have the equipment for that. I’ve tried a few things, and they’ve been okay as far as experiments go, but they aren’t what I want to do really.
I’ve made a few handmade books. I definitely want to make more, but I can’t manage to sell them and they cost money to make. So they aren’t practical.
Wait. Is any of this practical?
I thought not.
Oh well. There’s too much to do, and I’ve got a book to edit for publication first.
What projects would you like to tackle? Anything you dream of doing?
A student told me today that in her country if you told people you were afraid of dogs, they would think you were normal. But if you told people you were afraid of spiders, they would think you were crazy.
Well, okay.
I learn something every day.
Have you learned anything surprising lately?
I’ve been avoiding writing for the blog. There are plenty more important to do in life, right? And years ago I named this blog writing in the water, and doesn’t that sound like a place for writing advice?
I don’t have any writing advice. If you want to write, write. Don’t say you don’t have the time. Of course you don’t have the time. Write anyway.
Otherwise, other smarter, more interesting people have written great books about writing. Read them.
I think I’m going to change the name of this blog and maybe change the attitude. We’ll see.
How’s your blogging going lately?
Carl Sagan + my art!
I’ve been ignoring my blog. Maybe I mean neglecting. I’m supposed to be figuring a website for my art and all that. People ask me, “Do you have a website?” I feel most failure-esque to say, “I have a blog.” I mean, you can’t sell art on this thing. Sure, someone could leave me a comment about the art and we could go from there, but I don’t have a pretty page with all my images and stuff.
It shows a distinct lack of entrepreneurial spirit. But I did make all that art that is hanging in my show. I did make the art, frame it or come up with a way to display it, get a show date, and hang the stuff. And I’m editing my novel that my publisher is going to put out into the world in February. I’m participating in NaNoWriMo again too by the way. I’m teaching 20 hours a week. I’m going to speed skate practice. I’m illustrating a children’s book for my publisher. I’m spending time with my kid and doing most of the housework.
I’m neurotic, insecure, and obsessive. I’m not lazy.
But I cannot get myself to organize this into a proper website. I resist. I put it off. I think about and don’t understand it.
I don’t really know where this resistance comes from, but I will try to do better.
What is it in your life that you should be doing but you’re not? My list is certainly longer than just get a proper website. That’s what’s bothering me today.
In high school I spent one year on the yearbook staff. I started the class really excited, and I ended the class hoping never to speak of it again. When my mother saw the section I’d worked on–the advertising section, which I hated but did work hard on–she said, “That doesn’t look very good. That’s the best you can do?”
Or maybe she said, “That’s terrible.”
It’s hard to remember exactly because what I remember best was the pain that went through my chest. My mother wasn’t a mother of false praise.
The ads weren’t good though. I’d struggled with designing the ads. My relationship with the teacher was a disaster since I realized I wasn’t pretty enough to warrant his attention.
Maybe that wasn’t the problem. But I knew the popular boys and girls invited him to their parties and that sometimes he went.
You probably don’t need to be told I wasn’t ever invited to these parties. But I didn’t want to go to their parties. I wanted my mother to tell me I’d done a great job, that I had talent, that I should be an artist when I grew up.
She said (and this I remember), “I wouldn’t show that work to anyone if I were you.”
Twenty-five years later and I still haven’t.
So, last night I sent my “final” draft of my novel to my publisher. (Final until I get edits backs, that is.) All I have to do is wait for her to read the rewrites and tell me what she thinks.
It’s funny how something said to you years ago can stay lodged in your brain for decades. I wouldn’t show that work to anyone.
And here’s me trying to send my novel out for the world to see. (Although, the world isn’t going to see it. A tiny group of friends and some random strangers.)
We’ll see how it goes.
my art
Today a new friend in my life puts her heart out into the world. Her heart should be lifted up and celebrated.
Well, perhaps every heart should be.
Forgive the potential sappiness. But sometimes sappiness is okay. We don’t have to be all edges and armor every day of the week.
(Anyway, I don’t know why black holes exist in space any more than I know why black holes exist in some human hearts, but those lost souls–the ones that suck in and destroy everything that comes too close are a problem for another day.)
As I was saying, the determined and caring Niamh Clune, author and founder of Plum Tree Books, is putting out a very heart-filled project today. Niamh has a great deal of personal experience with the drought and troubles in the Sahel in Africa.
You can find out more about events here and even more about the work Niamh is doing on The Plum Tree Blog.
Art is part of the solution too. Plum Tree is hosting an art auction–and one piece of mine is included along with several other beautiful pieces (I’d buy the Geisha right now if I could). The auction is the 16th.
And then there is music. A live radio show by the talented Claudio Fiore will be (is) in progress to support the auction and the book. Music is available to buy as well.
Oh. And the book. The book!! A book of poetry, stories, essays, and art is for sale. Song of Sahel. My art is in the book and a poem. Well, a sort of poem. A few tiny words to go with the art.
The proceeds go to help the people of the Sahel. Niamh has written more movingly (and knowledgeably) than I can, so if you go to the blog or the Plum Tree site, you can read the history and about the organizations that are helping in the region. Or if you have any questions, please ask.
Niamh has put heart and effort into this project. It’s an important cause and maybe you could do something to help. At the very least, share the word. The more people that know, the better.
Wow. I hope I covered everything.
Thank you!
from Plum Tree Books
My publisher has a passion. You see that passion in what Plum Tree supports. Soon, Plum Tree will put out a book and hold an art auction to raise money to help people in Sahel. Where is the Sahel? Here.
A piece of my art is part of the auction, too.
I know that many places in the world need, but we’ve got to start somewhere. Like the parable of the starfish, Sahel is another starfish.
An old man had a habit of early morning walks on the beach. One day, after a storm, he saw a human figure in the distance moving like a dancer. As he came closer he saw that it was a young woman and she was not dancing but was reaching down to the sand, picking up a starfish and very gently throwing them into the ocean.
“Young lady,” he asked, “Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?”
“The sun is up, and the tide is going out, and if I do not throw them in they will die.”
“But young lady, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it? You cannot possibly make a difference.”
The young woman listened politely, paused and then bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves,saying, “It made a difference for that one.”
The old man looked at the young woman inquisitively and thought about what she had done. Inspired, he joined her in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved. –Wikipedia
Why not begin by helping save this starfish? Every starfish matters.
Plum Tree is my publisher, and I want Plum Tree to succeed, and I want what the Plum Tree supports to succeed. That includes good causes and that includes me.
This is where the self-sabotage comes in. I want to do enough to support others and support myself. Fear of bothering others, of getting it wrong, of failing, helps me procrastinate on what I need to do.
Fear. Procrastination’s best friend.
That nagging feeling that I’m not doing enough manages to keep me from doing anything except to make excuses. Why is there always time to make excuses and no time to do anything constructive?
Now, I’ve got a novel to edit and an art show to prepare for.
You can follow these endeavors on my facebook page.
What helps you procrastinate?
