It’s moving day, the perfect day to reflect on all the things in my writing life that are in motion now.
- I am now a contributing writer for An Intense Life. The blog’s vision is to discuss giftedness from many angles and aspects.
- I won Charlotte Rains Dixon’s Valentine’s Day drawing for a journal (that I can always use) and a critique of 25 pages of manuscript. This is a much-needed kick in the pants as I have dragged on my revisions during the move. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
- Thanks to nudging from Sharon Overend, I have joined a novel-writing class, as much to force me to build a better writing schedule as to help me take my work in progress to the next level.
- My husband and I have agreed on a change to our routine that will allow me an additional 5-7 hours of writing a week. Yay!
- On the back burner, but still simmering, are plans to use the Blogging from A-Z challenge in April to launch my website of resources for recovering serious people.
It is all go, and all in the right direction. I am looking forward to being mostly unpacked and settling in to my new routines.
Two short announcements this week.
1) The reason for this is that we sold our house this week and the final stages of that process have thrown everything out of whack. This is a good chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
2) I have joined a team of writers who will be blogging about all things gifted from various perspectives. Christine Fonseca, author of Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students and 101 Success Secrets for Gifted Kids, has put together a great group of writers, including Jen Merrill from Laughing at Chaos, whom I mentioned recently. My first post will be up next week. In the meantime, head on over to An Intense Life to see what is going on. There is also news on the site about Christine’s gothic YA novella Dies Irae that has just been released. I am in the middle of it and am enjoying it tremendously.
I am in-between houses.
We have started moving things into the new place, but we are still living in the old place.
I am in-between in a deeper sense as well.
In the language of social anthropology, I am in a liminal phase, a transitional period between outward personas, an inner transformation reflected in the move from a modern suburban development with matching neighbors to an older, quirky, custom-built house.
I spent my young adult life struggling to fit into a model of the world I had absorbed through my years of schooling. That model involved a lot of applying myself to other people’s goals and working hard to appear normal, getting a good job and putting in the hours behind a desk to earn the paycheck that would allow me to become a useful consumer.
But, those goals were never mine.
Since leaving legal practice in 2000, I have been on a quest to rediscover my values and build a life that reflects me in my full glory. My return to writing and a life centered in creativity and play was part of this quest.
Parenting my challenging children has forced me to confront the pressures I yielded to as a child that I should have avoided. By choosing to homeschool at least some of my children, I have created an opportunity to pass different messages on to my children. The literature that is helping me understand my extremely bright children is helping me understand myself.
Last year, the demands of my novel and the self-awareness triggered by learning how to help my children came together and cracked my persona, and I haven’t put things back together yet. I don’t know what I am growing into; I only know some of the elements my next persona must acknowledge.
The new house is part of my growth. We rationalize the move by saying we need an additional bedroom and that the kids need more outdoor space, but a deeper truth is that my soul cries out for the quirks of a custom-built house.
After hiding in plain sight for years, I am standing up and saying to the world, “I am an outlier.”
I don’t remember ever not being aware that I was out of the range of normal. In Kindergarten, I spent most of the year reading by the coat cubbies while my classmates learned the alphabet. That was also the year I gave up my English accent so I didn’t sound strange to my American classmates.
I learned about bell-curves when my class-mates accused me of “breaking the curve.” I learned about percentiles in 3rd grade when the doctor referred to my height as 105th percentile; my mother gave me a math lesson during the drive home. By 6th grade, I was taller than most of my teachers. And the stories of my struggles against gender-stereotypes deserve a blog post of their very own – or maybe a series of posts.
For too many years, I saw being different as being bad. But it isn’t. It is just different.
I’m not sure where all this is going. I’m sure it will show up in my writing.
I hope you’ll come along with me for the ride.