On (Not) Writing

 I've found myself wondering a lot of things lately... 

Why don't I seem to be creative any more?

Why don't I write?

Why can't I get back into writing the book that I was supposed to finish in 2020?

Why can't I just commit to writing or drawing something simple every day?

Why is it so hard to sit down and write friendly emails that I want to write?

I've been feeling pretty mentally and occasionally emotionally exhausted, but I've been putting many of the above things down to just having lost whatever creative or intellectual spark I used to possess. It's not a fantastic mental place to be.

So there was that book... I have tried multiple times without success to write one of the chapters, and I just feel stuck. It's not a chapter I wanted to write, it's just the chapter that everyone would expect in the book. No pressure there. I know that I suffer from lack of feedback. I don't work well in a vacuum. I loved classes for generating ideas (although I did have plenty of ideas outside of coursework) and for keeping me excited and motivated about ideas. This is what conferences are supposed to do, but I find conferences off-putting for a number of reasons. Most recently, I did find a conference that gave me a sense of community--the sense that some people were genuinely interested in my ideas. But it's been a few years since going to that conference was possible, and the field has gotten contentious since then, so that I'm not sure how well a book about heteronormative Tolkien would be received.

But the book is a huge project, and if there's one thing I'm hearing, it's that a lot of people have been unable to be productive over the last couple of years. (I work for a publisher, so I know there are books still coming in, but what do I know? The internet wants me to feel good even though I'm a non-productive slob--except when it wants me to feel terrible for who I am...) And being outside of academia makes writing an academic book hard. You think imposter syndrome is hard for someone on the inside? Try being on the outside some time!

Before the winter break, I had a low low--and an aha! moment. One day I just realized that I had been in a funk for several days, and I realized that there must be something I wasn't seeing. I'm not an "affirmations" kind of gal, but I have a friend on Facebook who posts "Today's Good Things" every day, so I tried it. It was kind of amazing the difference that it made going through the day keeping track of the positives so that I would have at least three to post. It wasn't perfect. I had days when I felt that the positives were a ridiculous misrepresentation of what my day actually looked like, and that writing them was a betrayal of who I really am. But I kept on, and I realized that they didn't have to be complicated: a "good thing" could be something that got a little bit better, or that wasn't as bad as it could have been. I could admit that things had not been great and still find the good. And I had a lovely crocheted blanket in progress that I could show off if I was pressed for a good thing. Even my Inkvent posts were "good things." But... then it dried up. It became not quite every day. Or recent good things. Or for goodness' sake I'm too tired to do this today. I haven't done it for a while, and I haven't missed it too much. Maybe my brain is more in tune to the good things as they come right now. I don't know. But at least this is something in my toolbox.

Meanwhile, my Facebook posting has simply dried up. I just don't have much to say that can be said in a sentence or two, and I don't always feel like I can post the negative after posting the positive.

But that's social media. There are other ways to write daily--and better ones.

I desperately wanted a very fine notebook/journal for Christmas--the Midori One Page One Day. 

It just seemed so full of possibilities, and it didn't really have to be themed or ambitious. (I have a problem with journals historically; I become embarrassed about my own thoughts--or really about whatever "pose" I have adopted in writing them--and I rip them up. That's not the point of a journal, but I am not entirely sure what the point of a journal is, for me. I also have a problem with nice notebooks. I would studiously avoid using them, 'lest I "ruin" them with inferior content. The internet tells me that this is not a unique problem. Lately, I want to limit my notebooks by topic or purpose, without necessarily defining this clearly to avoid duplicating my efforts or varying from my stated purpose, e.g. "research" can mean focused research on a specific topic, but might it not also mean research on multiple topics contained in the same book? *sigh*) So now I have this beautiful blank notebook/journal with so many possibilities. I have written on several pages, drawn some little pictures, some in the spirit of "good things," some in attempts to just record what I observe... But I haven't been consistent, and I'm trying to fight the feeling that I've ruined the book. I mean, if it has more or less one page for each day of the year, and I don't use it that way, I will end up with extra pages, or *gasp* more than one partial year in the same book!! I love the symmetry of well-planned things. I just don't seem to be able to conform myself neatly to them. I know that that's silly.

So what's preventing me from sitting down and writing a bit in my little book, you ask?

Well, I was wondering the same. I thought it was, in part, the "what to write" dilemma, which is not new. But I'm trying to give myself a break and not judge what I write so harshly. After all, I have written and created quite a number of things that I'm proud of. But one thing I have realized is a barrier: TIME.

It was easy over the winter break. Or easier. As long as I didn't mind having someone else looking over my shoulder at any given time. But returning to work, I had to resume something closer to a 40-hour on-site schedule instead of the 20-hour on-site and 20 hour work-from-home schedule that I had been enjoying for half of 2021, with exclusive work-from-home for over a year before that. It changes things, some for the better, and really? I wasn't writing a whole lot when I was at home all the time anyway.

My schedule right now only allows me 8 "off-site" hours to play with, and since I have (older) children doing school online, I feel like I need to be present for them for some significant chunks of the day. So I go to work in the morning, come home around lunch for a chunk of time that includes lunch and some "wellness release time" for exercise (to minimize the pain in my back and hip from sitting all day) or a brief trip to the park to give everyone some fresh air and exercise. Then I return to work for an hour and a half or so, come home and almost immediately start trying to figure out what kind of meal to put together (I am not a meal "planner." If I plan to eat something too far in advance, I can almost certainly guarantee that I will not want to eat it. I like raw materials and options.) We eat, and I settle down on the sofa to watch The Repair Shop or something else suitably British and intelligent, occasionally reading or crocheting if I find I can still hold the hook. There are some variations in there, but that's the big picture.

Now, it might seem that that sofa time would be good for writing or creative or intellectual activity of some sort. This has occurred to me. But how wrong we both are! Note the "if I can still hold the crochet hook." I have tried to muster up the energy to write or create something in the evening, but I am mentally if not physically exhausted. Add to this my odd practice of not sitting down in front of the computer or paper. This is because sitting down is very bad. Not  really very bad. But it does seem to be a major determining factor in my hip pain, which does not bother me when I am sitting, but significantly hampers me when I stand up again and try to be mobile. So until meal time, sofa time, or the time when I have to be working, I try to stand as much as possible. Managing pain is, itself, exhausting sometimes.

So I have to steal middle-of-the day time, which is work time. Which is "fraud, waste, and abuse" according to the ethics training. This does make me feel guilty, but sometimes I don't care. I get my work done. It's not a job that is demanding for me, or demanding consistently. I could work part-time and still get everything done that I need to get done. (I will say that my split schedule is itself exhausting with the back and forth, but it is productive for me. Having shorter blocks of time to fill and changing scenery and switching gears is much more how I prefer to work.)

But something else occurred to me, too. So far, I have given only a picture of how my time is used, not a picture of how my brain and energy are used. I probably should have remembered sooner the post from Darwincatholic about parenting older children--particularly since I can't find it now. (Here it is! Mrs. Darwin sent it to me!) It rang true then, I remember, but it did not strike me at the time how much this different time of life--mine and theirs--could determine my own creative and intellectual output. Yes, I do demand too much of myself. And somehow, with more self-sufficient children, it seemed like I should be even better able to create and produce. But that's not the whole story.

I find myself much more in demand, in fact, than ever--though I don't really think they are demanding. I have three intelligent and stable offspring, one who can't really be counted as a child, and hasn't been one legally for 7 years now. They trust me, and they value my opinion. They know that I listen, and they respect the feedback that I give. And they have issues with the stupidity in the world and that displayed by other people; they have friends with spiritual crises that cause them to want to get to the root of what exactly the theology of certain sensitive topics might be; they are dealing with the hoops that every student has to jump through to get to the point of being able to choose what course of study to pursue; they are dealing with the realities of the chosen (or de facto) course of study not being what was promised and expected; they are dealing with bad teaching and require someone to commiserate or fill in the gaps; they are dealing with the low motivation that comes from recognizing the pointlessness of the hoops; they are dealing with their own meticulousness and high standards... And I have to hear about every trouble, trial, success, accomplishment, shortcoming, frustration... You get the idea. And this is on top of my own struggles related to work, self-confidence, self-perception, hypochondria (or at least hyper-awareness of my body), spiritual crises related to where I am in my life, oh, and a pandemic thrown into the mix.

Is it any wonder I'm mentally exhausted? I'm starting think... maybe not.

While on the one hand, I spend far too much time in my own head, I don't actually have a lot of time alone with my thoughts. I don't even have a long commute. I literally live 7 minutes away from my workplace. At every other point in my life, I have had time to think. Observe. Create. I do not have that time or space right now. I begin to understand why so many of our authors at the publisher where I work are in their eighties. I am still impatient with their demands that we make sure they have their goal of being published before they die. No one needs that pressure--certainly not me. But it does make sense that they had to wait until the calming of the many, many voices and pressures in life in order to have the space for intellectual activity. My issue is that I used to have that space. I used to be able to make that space. When they were babies and toddlers, the demands were simply different. They were not intellectual. I engaged on a different level. People talk about being at home with their children as not being around adults. I don't actually feel that way. I have three people in my home besides my husband and I who, while they lack experience, certainly engage on a sophisticated level with the experiences they are living. And they do so out loud. To me.

I should say that I am very proud of this. Even as sometimes I want to scream and run away, I feel like I have done something right that they do come to me with things. But... I am exhausted.

Having recognized this, however, I can maybe give myself some space--not to write. Not to be creative or intellectual. And not to feel like I've lost part of myself because I can't produce. Maybe I still have the potential and the capacity. Maybe it's just not the right time.

To every thing (turn, turn, turn)...

Who am I?

 Here I am at the beginning of another blog reboot, this time returning to my roots. Sort of. It's hard, after all, to return to a mindset and sense of purpose (or a place where you didn't need a sense of purpose) after, oh... 14 years. I actually had to look that up--it feels much longer. But I am returning to my first blog. It feels appropriate, once again, to write under the label of "Words, Words" rather than trying to define myself more specifically. I may still branch off a little. I've picked up a bit of a romance novel habit that some of my blog friends may not be interested in--nay, may find distasteful. And "Booknotes from Literacy-chic," which I intend to keep up, doesn't quite feel like the right place, either. But I'll probably keep this as the hub. In the meantime, I rolled another blog that never really got off the ground, but had some interesting snapshots from a former workplace, into this one. I've decided that I was compartmentalizing a bit too much. It's not really who I am.

"Who am I?" indeed.

Identity is a strange question, isn't it? Much stranger than when I first started blogging in January 2007. I'm not really here to introduce myself, rather, I want to sort through the things that make up my life right now, in 2021.

Things that are the same (but different), in alphabetical order:

• Catholicism

I am still Catholic. Of course. But I am not the fresh convert that I once was, working to arrange my life according to Church teachings. Surprise! Do Church teachings still exercise influence in my life? Of course. Are these influences as powerful and compelling as they used to be? Sadly, no. This is perhaps for the better, since I don't argue and agonize about them as I once did. But my Catholic faith is still an important part of who I am. At least, I think so. These days I mainly concern myself with what parishes are not doing to prevent the spread of COVID-19, and our mass attendance is through YouTube.

• Family

Need it be said? Family is still one of the most important things to me. My oldest, now 24, is still at home, and we love this. He's completing his B.A. this year after a challenging educational journey that has more to do with finances than anything. He is also working alongside me at my workplace, but I don't expect to say much about that. My two daughters, 13 and 15, are in 8th and 11th grade, respectively. Last Spring (2020) they went online by mandate, and in 2020-2021, we found one of the best online schools in the country and decided to stick with it for 2021-2022. I have a husband with a solid academic career in libraries that I alternately support and resent, mostly at the same time. But I'm proud of him and I love him and I'm so happy that I have him. We're coming up to our 25th wedding anniversary next year. I still have a mother and brother who I worry about, and 4 other siblings with whom I have limited contact--in one case more, in another case, none at all.

• Reading

Books are still a large part of my life. What I read has shifted drastically as well as, shall we say, how I use books. There's a lot more escapist reading and a lot less literary snobbery in my life, although I am still particular, and selective. I still post to my Booknotes blog occasionally, when something strikes me, but less analytical posts may wind up here. I may also start a romance reading blog.

• Sewing

I still sew when the mood takes me. I made some masks. I make clothing sometimes with variable success. I started a blog long ago that I thought would be devoted to sewing, but working through frustrations with patterns publicly just didn't seem the best use of my time. I may post about sewing here sometimes. We'll see.

• Writing

This may also go without being said? I come back to writing at times. It never leaves me, though sometimes I leave it for a time. I was writing a dissertation when I started (except that I had to give up blogging for Lent in order to actually finish the dissertation). Now, I have a book project that I'm not working on. The more things change...

Things that are new:

• Academia

Academia is not a part of my life. This is new. I may still have some thoughts on it from time to time, but I am out, and besides the resentment that it had to be like this, I am fine with it. It is no longer a place where I feel I belong.

• Art

In short, I do more of it now! Not currently, but periodically. It started with Inktober, which I'm not linking to for reasons. I don't need controversy, and I don't actually care about other people's angst on the topic; it was a neat idea. I wound up rediscovering (in 2015, if memory serves) that I can draw fairly well, and I enjoy doing so. When I was out of work in 2018-19, I developed a comic. A small sampling of the comic and my most recent partial Inktober efforts can be found here. Well, that's embarrassing. It seems that the posts I had scheduled to roll out one by one did not. <<cue mass posting>>

• COVID-19

This is a part of who everyone is these days, isn't it? I don't know that I'll have a lot to say about it, but who knows? My girls are in an online school; our workplaces are operating as conservatively as possible. My son will have to attend classes in person, but he will be masked and is vaccinated, as we all are. We all still have our fears and anxieties, but we're coping so far.

•  Crochet

Crochet is my "lockdown skill." I had a grandmother and an aunt who did (very different) crochet, and last year, 2nd daughter and I taught ourselves. My house now has a lot more yarn.

• Exercise

Okay, one of my first ever blog posts was about yoga, and the blog I merged with this one had a post about exercise, but maybe it wasn't a huge part of my life and blog in the past. It is now. Mainly because it has to be. Which brings us to...

• Health

Oh, where to begin? Some of this was already surfacing with the "rolled in" blog. I need to be aware of blood pressure and cholesterol, the former is currently under control to good effect and after much trial and error. I'm wondering whether some things I'm experiencing signal perimenopause. I have some issues with my joints--outer hips, lower back, right ankle--and a lot of anxiety about health issues. My husband has issues with blood pressure (under control), cholesterol (not), and blood sugar (with type-2 diabetes in the family and a "get the numbers down" kind of ultimatum). The kids are fine, but could be more active, particularly being at home more.

• (No More) Babies 

My early blogging days were filled with pregnancy and breastfeeding and other concerns related to babies. These experiences are no longer part of my life. For a few brief weeks in January 2020, we thought there might be another baby. This was not to be. Given the events of the year and my anxiety about the whole thing, this is probably for the best. There's a brief reflection on the experience here. I may make reference to this happening some time. 

• Pens and Inks

While it is true that I have used fountain pens sporadically over the past 20 years or so, this is a hobby/practice that blossomed during the pandemic with my discovery of the wonders of shimmery ink! It is very possible that I may write about this in the future.

• Publishing

Publishing is part of my life because it's my job. I have a book contract, but I'm not currently working on the book. Maybe that part of publishing will resurface in my life. 

• Teaching Certification

This is something I'm seriously considering. So seriously that I've submitted an application to a post-baccalaureate certification program, which will have part of its tuition covered because of my employment with the university. I'm not sure teaching high school will be feasible or enjoyable. But it's an option, and options are important.

• Television

I usually don't include TV in my blogging. I don't watch what anyone else watches. But the shows I do watch, I've been really captivated by. They might pop up. They include:

• The Secret History of the British Garden with Monty Don
• Hidden Villages with Penelope Keith
• Penelope Keith's Village of the Year
• Wartime Farm
• Edwardian Farm
• Tudor Farm
• Victorian Farm
• Wainwright Walks

If I ever make it to England for a holiday, I will almost certainly not visit the urban centers.

• Work

Work has been a problem. It wasn't such a problem when I started, mainly because I was a graduate student who only had to worry about one class at a time--if that--in addition to whatever scholarship I was supposed to be working on. Kind of changes things to have to work full time, you know? But the blog that I recently merged with this one was a real attempt to come to terms with the kind of work I was doing (technology training) in relation to the kind of work I was trained to do (academic teaching and scholarship). The blog didn't last and neither did the career. What did last was the sense of dissatisfaction, and, at times, utter despair. Jealousy--that my husband has the more interesting job where he is respected, where he learns things and talks about intellectual things, and my knowledge that it can also be a complete pain and inconvenience for all of us: these are all included, too. My blog posts have never concealed my deficits. Usually, I reveal them in painful detail. And my relationship to my work and to his work is an area that is... fraught. 

• Word Limits?

I don't have one in mind, but I'm putting this out there. A few limitations might help me to actually post regularly, and might prevent people from being bored before the end.

So if not who I am, this is where I am. The earlier question is something I'm trying to work out all the time.

Cheers!

Small Successes I: Paper Activities

So I realize that I haven't had much to say in a while about my class, and in part, I want to record the successes that I've had along the way--things that I hope to repeat in the future.  I know that last time I checked in I was on the verge of despair.  *sigh*  I still have more moments of weariness than enthusiasm, but I haven't felt that bad since that week.  I have also been allowing myself to read for pleasure more, and not forcing myself to read along with everything I assign.  The latter makes me feel like a bad teacher, but it's not as if I'm lecturing on it, so I'll give myself a pass.

One thing that I feel I have done the right way is breaking the steps of the paper down for them and requiring students to "check in" (more or less) to demonstrate that they are working on the paper.  These assignments help them to stretch out the work on the assignment rather than saving it until the last minute.  They give me the opportunity to monitor progress--or not, because for the most part the burden is on them (which I'll explain).  Because they are wrestling with the paper over time, I do, in fact, hear more from them when things aren't going quite right, if they get stuck, etc.  This is definitely a success in an online course.  

What I'm proposing is something that was standard in composition classes--Topic Proposal Memo, Thesis Statement, List of Sources, Outline (maybe), Rough Draft, Final Draft.  Besides teaching time management and giving the opportunity for feedback along the way, we were also making sure that if a student was inclined to plagiarize, the supporting materials would have to be plagiarized, since a paper would not be accepted without them.  That's not really my rationale, since my paper is fairly unique and probably can't just be downloaded.  What is unusual is requiring these steps for a sophomore-level class.  Sophomores are supposed to be able to do these things on their own, right?  And sink or swim?  Well...  not really.  Not in reality. 

One of the amazing things about the online-only class is the opportunities I have along the way to correct what they're thinking about things, how they're interpreting things, how they are expressing their ideas in writing.  In class, if they don't speak, I don't know what they're thinking. Because the class meets every day, there are no assignments designed to let me know what they're thinking--whether they're getting it.  As a result, they don't necessarily get it, and I don't know until the test.  Heck--they don't know until the test.  In this case, I know.  And if we can have a discussion about it where other students can see, I'm actually teaching.  Yay!  This is how being a "guide" instead of a "sage" can still be an important function, requiring a teacher who is insightful and engaged.  

This paper was a beginning lit review, if you will.  My intentions (objectives, really) were to have them be able to write a research question, use it to do research, find scholarly sources on a literary topic, read and summarize, and begin to synthesize the sources in a very basic way in order to present the articles to an audience who wishes to know more about the literary topic in question.  It took a bit of wrangling to get them there, and I haven't graded the papers yet, but I know that learning has happened along the way.

Their supporting activities were:

1. A research question posted to a forum.  Each student had to post a question in order to see others' questions so that they were not influenced beforehand.
2. A bibliography submitted as an assignment to the instructor only.  This gave me the opportunity to check to see whether the sources were scholarly and whether the bibliography format was correct.
3. A rough draft/peer review wiki.  While it did not really function as a peer review, it could have.  Students posted their rough draft to a new page in the wiki.  They could also make changes to theirs (technically they could have to others' as well), and make comments on their and others' drafts.  If they wanted my feedback, they had to solicit it, and one did.  I could have forced each student to comment on another's draft, but feedback-by-coersion is not typically good quality stuff, so I let it go.

I had many questions during the first two stages.  Some were caught up in adhering to the question or making it perfect, so those people learned that research ideas do mutate.  Many, many students learned to construct better database searches.  And at least half of the remaining students had a rough draft in time.  All in all, a success--they did not drift away completely.

These supporting assignments were only worth 25 points each.  At first, I was going to roll these in to the daily grade equivalent--a pathetic 10% (which should be more given the effort).  Instead, I decided to reward their efforts by making the 75 points part of the paper grade, which is 15% of the overall grade.  I believe that the effort of staying on task and the learning activities involved deserve to be 3/7 of the 15%, because they are being rewarded, here, for the considerable effort of learning on their own, being engaged, and asking for assistance when they needed it.

Because I can't not be...

Lately, the conversation going on around me (online) has centered, to a large degree, on an article about the writer's life, and particularly, how writers treat, or lie about, the sources of income that allow them to write.  While this doesn't directly apply to me, it has spawned some conversation that does apply to me, and also some thought.

I am not a writer.  I mean, I am a writer.  I call myself "a compulsive writer in search of a subject," and that works for me rather nicely.  Sometimes, I have to write.  I am also a compulsive blog-creator, though I have two right now that are actually active.  I am also trying to put together a story (I guess you would call it a novel, but for now it's just a story), which means that I do sneak 10-minute intervals at lunch and sometimes at work.  But I have never deluded myself that I could make money by writing, even though I was an English major and seriously considered the creative writing "track" (which would have required a class on the history of the English language, and I wasn't up for that at the time).  Even now, the idea of writing fiction for profit seems laughable to me, although I know people who are doing it, trying to do it, or claiming to do it, as the case may be.  Each and every one of them does, in fact, have another source of income though, so the claims are dubious.

It might be because I grew up in New Orleans that I was never deluded about "making a living" as a writer.  I'm not sure that my crowd ever aspired to the kind of lifestyle that everyone seems to want these days--at least in Texas.  A modest house and the ability to eat and pay the bills while not working so hard you were miserable seemed to be what most of us wanted--except, of course, that we were also creative types who could not imagine living without writing or acting.  My English teachers never made it sound like writing for a living was a thing--creative writing or otherwise.  All of the writers I knew were teachers.  I never felt deluded for a moment, even when our junior English class attended the gala for the Pirate's Alley Faulkner Society as a reward for stuffing envelopes.  The writer's lifestyle was normal living and this, too.  But we were certainly encouraged to try.  And I have, though not with as much dedication as when I was an undergrad getting rejection slips from The Southern Review.  

So in New Orleans, which has a literary culture, I was never told that writing would or could or should be my life.  Frankly, I thought getting advanced degrees and teaching college was a much more practical plan that would still make time for include necessitate writing.  It might be that I was a poet--no one makes money from poetry.  Poets write poetry because poets have to write poetry.  I thought that was simply how it worked.  I am a writer because writers have to write and I have to write.  (No, that's not exactly a run-on.)  And, in a similar vein, I got a Ph.D. becuase I had to get a Ph.D.  Not because I was particularly... whatever people think.  It was simply something I had to do because I couldn't not do it.  (Not doing it would mean getting a real job, and I'm still not ready for that!)  I guess I feel sorry for starry-eyed people who think they can make a living writing novels (some do, but I would bet even fewer than those who land tenure track positions).  Except I don't really feel sorry for them because hello? Reality.  It's all around us.  People.  Working.  Again, I call myself a "cynical idealist."  This might be why.

So working to write.  I get that.  Having someone else working so that you can write.  I guess I get that, but to a lesser degree.  That kind of lifestyle requires more privilege than I have ever had, if only so that the bills that you have in order to have home and food and transportation are not greater than the one income, or to avoid massive student loan debt because there was help from other places.  It's not something I envy, it's simply something I didn't have.  And yes, I made the choice to have more student debt.  I don't really regret that either.

What I find strange and unsettling is that having a Ph.D., aspiring to make a living as an academic, whether or not one lands a tenure track job, is regarded as just as ridiculous as aspiring to make a living as a writer, if not more so since there's a glamour about writing, and academics are subject to more negative stereotypes in many corners.

What I also find strange and unsettling is that I'm a teacher--and I'm a teacher because I can't not teach.  Like being a writer.  Like when I thought I would be a poet.  And so I adjunct.  Which means that I have to have a day job.  Some adjuncts teach many classes at ALL of the colleges so that they can scrape together a living while retaining the purity of their pursuit.  These are the ones starving in the hedgerows and complaining about it.  I'm a scab.  A strikebreaker.  The one who goes to work while others are picketing outside.  Because I don't really need the pay, I rather feel as though I'm supporting a corrupt system that exploits the abundant overeducated labor force.  Writers don't really have to face that.  Writing is a glamorous, solitary occupation with a "high and lonely destiny." Teaching requires an infrastructure.  And I'm also an online teacher. For an online only branch campus that wants its online academic instructors to be adjunct only.  That's a whole different level of scabbiness.  But heck.  The adjunct-only adjuncts probably do more to support a system that keeps me (and themselves) out of teaching full time, simply because they're there to exploit, whereas I said no.  I would not be exploited.

So what I keep coming back to is this:  I am working full-time, not to support my writing habit, but to support my teaching habit.  My unglamorous, slightly suspect, scabby little teaching habit.  Because I'm a teacher, and teachers are compelled to teach.

Food for thought.

I Have Been... (Pt. 3)

I have been...  (wrapping up.  Read the first parts here and here.)

Anticipating

The continuation of several series that I have been reading.  First, Etiquette and Espionage by Gail Carriger, author of the Parasol Protectorate series.  This one came out in February.  It is the first Young Adult novel by the author, and while I was happy to see that she didn't push the envelope of sexual encounters as so many YA authors do, the story as a whole felt a bit flat. I felt that the author might have felt constrained by the prospect of writing for a  younger audience, and the level of character development, plot development, and wit that I expect from this novelist were not there.  It was the "set up" for a series, if you will, so perhaps the future novels will be better.  It was entertaining enough, and you can get the first 3 chapters free!

 I am anticipating Cassandra Clare's Clockwork Princess this month, and looking waaaay forward to Diana Gabaldon's next Outlander book, Written in My Own Heart's Blood.

I'm not generally a series reader, so this is new for me... 

Wishing

For a job that had more flexible hours and allowed me to practice creative acts of reading and writing as part of my job.  Right now, my job is 40 hours/week--8 to 5.  I teach 6-hour technology courses more or less weekly (less right now), and spend the rest of the time learning more about the software I teach, memorizing the course manuals and activities, correcting projects for our certificate programs (You really should have used tab stops here...), and listening to technology instructional videos.  Yum.

 I would, ideally, like to put in my teaching hours and then have time to spend on professional development activities that make sense to me, that engage me.  Ideally, this would be flexible, though I am getting more used to working at an office.  I would love to have the summers off and a longer break between semesters to spend time with my little ones.  Does any of this sound familiar?

Second on my list (and these two switch places) is a bigger apartment or a house to rent.  3 Bedrooms (right now we have 2 for 5 people) and TWO WHOLE BATHROOMS!  Right now we have 1.5.  Storage would be great, too. 

Loving

That I can read and write again.  My writing is bordering on scholarly/professional at times, and perhaps I'm working up to something.  I submitted an abstract to a real, academic conference on Friday! The benefit of not working as a scholar/teacher is that intellectual activity doesn't have pressure attached.  I can really do what I want to do right now, and I needed this.

And if you're here, check out today's post on Booknotes from Literacy-chic!

Working is like Exercise for Me

I came to this conclusion yesterday, at the end of the long weekend, after an unexpected holiday on Friday for the hurricane that went away east. Because for 3 weeks I've been pretty well into the swing of things, managing to get the course prep done, grading a reasonable number of things, and enjoying the classroom dynamic. Admittedly, I'm getting worn down a bit from always being on the go. I have classes to teach 5 days a week, just like in the summer, except that in the summer I gave them Fridays off, and it was only 1 class, not 2. Having 2 classes makes it easy in a way--I don't have to come up with material for one class to fill 5 days' worth of discussion/lectures/activities. On the other hand, when I'm finished with teaching one course, it's time to turn around and work on the next one for the next day. This would be more of a pain if I was less familiar with the material. Although I am teaching from a new syllabus for composition, I have taught composition a hundred times. So I have activities ready-made that I can slip in as necessary. Also, there is a set of ready-made lesson plans to go along with the standard syllabus, though I have problems with some of the examples used, which introduce bias into the discussion in a way that has potential to be used well or poorly. Teaching children's lit similarly requires less prep than it did over the summer, though the classroom dynamic--35 students instead of 10--is vastly different and does not lend itself to the same kinds of activities. Many of my students come from education, and have a very different way of thinking about children's literature, so I have to steer them almost constantly away from the, "This is a good book because it can work well in a classroom in this way. . ." and try to induce them to think about it as literature, not as a prop for teaching. Also, spending the same number of class periods on a topic, but having those class periods spread over 2-3 weeks instead of concentrated in a single week gives everyone the feeling of going nowhere fast. And it's getting depressing. So I'm looking forward to moving on to poetry. But I'm feeling a little discouraged all the same.

So how is working like exercise? Well, when I'm in the middle of it, in the "swing of things," so to speak, I feel pretty excited & good about what I'm doing. It energizes me. After a good class, I'm on a kind of "high." I talk about the class for hours. My husband gets sick of hearing about it! ;) But when I'm away from it, even for a long weekend, especially if I have unexpectedly "gotten out of" teaching for one day, it feels impossible to get back into it. The same thing happens to me with exercise. The same thing happens to me with research and writing. It's why the dissertation seemed to drag--I spent more time dreading the work than actually working on it. Even blogging is like this for me--if I've missed checking on blogs for a number of days, it feels like a huge task to get back into them, even though I know I enjoy it!!

I know this is not the case with exercise, though it can be time consuming, but one of the things that research, teaching, and blogging share is a huge commitment of mental energy. Answering emails is the same. I know, quite often, that if I let myself get started with a blog or an email, I will keep going until it's done, expending a great deal of mental energy and becoming engrossed for hours at a time sometimes. So sometimes, I prefer not to start. Research and writing are similar--the mental effort is considerable, the time commitment is significant, and there doesn't ever seem to be an ideal time to start. Truthfully, sewing is the same for me. When I start a project, I want to know that I can finish the project in a reasonable amount of time--a few days, usually. And that means from cutting out the fabric to pressing the finished item. If I leave something just slightly unfinished, I hate to go back to it. Doodle has a jumper without loops to hold the loose ends of the shoulder straps, and a dress that needs a hook-and-eye above the zipper to look "finished"--minor details, and not very time consuming, but if I haven't gotten the details finished with the rest of the garment, I don't want to go back. I would rather start something new. And if I put a project aside earlier--watch out!! I have to force myself, trick myself, reward myself with the prospect of starting the thing I really want to work on--or it never gets done.

Looking over this, it seems like I have a strange combination of procrastination, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and perfectionism--the kind of crippling perfectionism that leads one to avoid starting the project for fear of being engrossed in details. I never completed an incomplete because I couldn't find the "perfect" topic to write about. I had set pretty high standards with another paper for the same professor, and didn't want to fall short. So I couldn't do it. The mental block was huge. I think I stopped writing poetry because I stopped thinking that my ideas were poem-worthy--I rather got out of that way of seeing the world.

I got over this to a degree with the dissertation. Remember Dori from Finding Nemo? She sang, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. . ." Eventually, I just had to force myself to keep writing, reminding myself that my mediocre writing was usually sufficient for the job I was trying to get done. Teaching has its built-in motivation, thank goodness. The students will keep coming, the semester continues to progress. I can't just stop and dread what needs to be done. Then there will be good days, and I will think, "How is it that I dreaded this so much?" I will go the library to do my archival research and return home excited by all of the ideas that I have had while reading and try to hold on to that enthusiasm until the next week. It's about rhythm, really. It's about routine. Like exercise. But I never can stick with it, somehow. . .