Our babysitter is my hero
She showed up even though the roads are a mess from a snowstorm that blew through last night. It took me two hours to get from downtown to pick up Brett from work (he works about a mile from my house) because it was all stop-and-go traffic.
My accountability calendar is sorta helping and sorta not. It’s helping because it makes me work more than I otherwise would but it’s sorta not because it’s such slow-going right now. In fact, it’s a little bit like last night’s commute home (exhausting, frustrating, and with a bad soundtrack). Right now I’m re-reading some of the studies I set aside and taking notes on them in the context of this particular chapter. I’m also free-writing a lot to figure out what the chapter is about because I thought I knew but it turns out I don’t.
Anything I’ve ever written that was (in my opinion) any good was emotionally hard to write. I’m talking about the essays and articles that no one but me could have written — the ones that wring out my own voice even if the topic is universal. So I know that if I want this to be good, it’s going to be emotionally hard and so far I’ve got a denial block working that’s keeping me from getting to the heart of what I want to say. What I think is going on is that I don’t want to believe I’m as prejudiced against the fertility industry as I am or that I’m as angry about it as I am. (This is one of the things where my friends and family will say “duh” but since I’m the one in denial, I am really totally denying it.) I keep thinking I’m even-handed and I need to get the guts to make that leap and come down hard on the side of my opinion but I’ve got some work to do yet. A lot of this work is thinking-work and not writing-work so it’s productive but invisible and I know if I do this work, I’ll figure out my theme for this chapter.
I keep leaping ahead and going, “I really ought to interview so-and-so!” but I’ve done this enough times that I know I’m using that as an excuse to avoid the hard digging I need to do so instead I’m attempting to satisfy my “let’s put on a show!” self by making lists of all those interviews and books I ought to do and then forcing myself back, nose to computer screen, to free-write.
(Most of my free-write pages have “every little thing I want to say” at the top because Becca long ago gave me instructions to put down “every little thing you want to say” and then share it with her so she could help me find my thesis way back when I was first working on this book. For some reason putting this at the top of my file this makes my free-writing feel more productive than it would if I was just scrawling on paper. Also it reminds me that I have friends whose judgment I respect who believe that I do have things worth saying even if sometimes I don’t.)
I’m also reading a lot of non-fiction and enjoying the hell out of it. My inlaws gave me a $50 Amazon gift certificate and I was able to spend $49.97 of it (so I wouldn’t have to use a credit card) through the careful addition of used books to my shopping cart. These are the books I got:
- Journalistas: 100 Years the Best Writing and Reporting by Women Journalists
- In Fact: The Best of Creative Nonfiction (Annie Dillard’s advice alone is worth the price of the book)
- The New New Journalism: Conversations with America’s Best Nonfiction Writers on Their Craft (which made me realize that I do want to be Susan Orleans and that she doesn’t have kids)
The used books were mostly to add to my green books collection: The House of Dolls by Barbara Comyns (because I absolutely adore her), Getting a Life by Helen Simpson (because it’s all about how motherhood ruins your life and sometimes I have those days — thanks, Susan Orleans), and With Child in Mind: Studies on the Personal Encounter with Infertility (for my book).
Another book I’ve been savoring (one — maybe two, ok THREE, sometimes FOUR — essays a day, tops to make it last longer) is Deep in the Garden by Anne Raver. It totally reminds me of Kelly. Note Anne Raver also doesn’t have children. That Helen Simpson book is looking more interesting all of the time.
I agree that the best writing is oftentimes very hard to write. Otherwise, it’s typing, hmm?
And I am happy to hear you say things like “my book” and “the book I’m going to write” etc. etc. Hooray!
to paraphrase from an article a little while back about painting in the NYTimes - for some artists, not working is a less productive but more tormented form of working.
They were referring to a portrait of some artists taking a break on a park bench, looking like they were still thinking over what had been going on back at the studio.
Hmmmm, whatever you’re writing sounds fascinating. Having gone through a few years of one of Dante’s circles of hell with fertility treatments, I’m especially intrigued by “prejudiced against the fertility industry.” Oh yeah. I know that my husband and I ended up doing more treatment than we had initially intended to and we didn’t stay with treatment nearly as long as some people I know.
I don’t really regret it just because it all lead us to Nate. But I also wouldn’t wish that stuff on anyone. It’s complicated . . . as I’m sure you understand.
Anyways . . . best of luck with your writing and all the other stuff going on in your life. Talk about complicated, huh?!
Susan Orlean has a young son who would be around 3 years old now.
Thanks for the book recs — The Barbara Comyns one looks like great fun. I’ve been reading Anne Lamott for the first time (Plan B) and enjoying it very much.
Can’t wait to hear more about your book.
e