My Intention: Wholehearted Engagement

“...we must dare to show up and let ourselves be seen.

This is vulnerability. This is daring greatly.”

Brené Brown

I place a star next to the paragraph I just highlighted in my copy of Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly, where she writes about the vulnerability of putting our writing out into the world with no assurance of acceptance or appreciation. She says sharing something we’ve created is a vulnerable but essential part of engaged and Wholehearted living. It’s the epitome of daring greatly, especially for those who approach the world through shame. Shame resilience is called for when we believe that our self-worth is dependent upon getting a positive response.

As a memoirist writing as honestly as possible about shameful aspects of myself and my life, I dare greatly. For the past two years, I’ve been sharing my story with my writing partner. In addition to a recent manuscript review and Master Class at Mad Anthony Writer's Workshop, I’ve been giving chapters to four readers for critique. The ultimate dare will be publishing. 

Nancy Pinard

www.nancypinard.com

The Master Class is facilitated by Nancy Pinard, a Dayton author and former short story teacher at Sinclair Community College and the University of Dayton Life Long Learning Institute. Out of the huge number of mature learners who responded to her class at UDLLI, a group of writers created a support group that continues to meet monthly. Those who were fortunate to be in her class, consider her to be the “Wannabee’s mother.”

For the Master Class at Mad Anthony, four of us submit 15-page manuscripts to Nancy who distributes them to us for critique. I am the only memoir writer. During class each writer remains silent as our work is critiqued. In addition to her appraisal, Nancy gives helpful technical suggestions and examples specific to our genre related to the craft of writing. After hearing everyone’s comments, we are permitted to ask questions or make comments.

My lip quivers as my turn to receive feedback approaches. I’ve already received a manuscript review the day before and have an inkling of what is coming. My character is about to be evaluated along with my writing. My reviewers do not like my mothering, a primary shame trigger for women.

While I am uncomfortable hearing their impressions of me, it is valuable in three ways. First, Nancy noted that I’m not beginning my story in the right place. Additional backstory (background information to more fully understand my character) was needed. Now I have written new chapters for the beginning and moved the chapter under review to ninth place.

Second, despite my discomfort, I am able for the first time to take in positive comments about my skill as a writer and my compelling story. Their interest is piqued in knowing what led to my disliked behavior and how the story turns out. For a writer, that is a good sign.

Third, as one who has struggled with shame for most of my life, this experience gives me an opportunity to see how far I’ve come in developing the shame resilience Brené Brown recommends. For a week, I withdraw and enter a period of self-examination. Were they right about me? Was I a terrible mother?

Wayne Tully Fantasy Art through Zazzle.com

My shame demon attempts to batter me with harsh judgments, stop me from exposing my shameful behavior, kill the joy and healing writing my memoir is giving me. Toward the end of the week, I begin sharing what I’m going through with trusted friends. In my experience, talking about shame renders it impotent. By the beginning of the next week, my shame attack has subsided. In the past, it would have taken months or years. I owe a debt of gratitude to Nancy Pinard and my Master Class-mates for giving me an opportunity to see the progress I’ve made. I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends who hold me up when my shame demon tries to sink me.

The middle of July, I’ll be daring greatly again at the Antioch Writer’s Workshop, submitting Chapter 2 for a Seminar dealing with manuscripts as well as another one-on-one critique.

I find a needed bit of wisdom in a quote by Adam Appleson, “Share whatever it is you’re ashamed about. You may think you can hide your shame by not talking about it, but in reality, it’s your shame that’s hiding you.”

My shame has been hiding me for far too long. I’m not writing about the shameful aspects of my life to attract attention. I’m writing to come out of hiding...to join the journey from “What will people think?” to “I am enough”...to engage in Wholehearted living. Along the way, I hope my story will inspire others to do the same. And that means being vulnerable and daring greatly. And so it is.    

An Adventure in LIVING

As the Mad Anthony Writer’s Workshop (April 4-6) draws near, e-mails fly back and forth. Nita, my writing partner, and I help each other put finishing touches on our pitches.

 Nita with her Bluebells

In the writing business, a “pitch” is a one-to-three minute elevator speech to an agent communicating what is distinctive about our work in a pithy and compelling way. It is intended to stimulate the agent’s interest in representing our book to a publisher.

Rita Rosenkranz, an agent with her own agency in NYC, comes highly recommended to Nita by two other writing professionals. Nita recommends that I pitch to her. Checking her webpage, I find that she represents memoirists including those with a spiritual theme. You-tube videos of presentations she’s given at other writer’s conferences reveal an approachable woman.

Rita Rosenkranz

Nita and I spend months preparing, reading books and articles about how to pitch. I take a class. We read what the agents themselves have to say about it. We find no one consistent format. We try out our pitches on each other and others for feedback. I find the whole process nerve wracking and the prospect of giving a pitch intimidating, much harder than writing the memoir itself. I need an attitude adjustment.

I tell myself, “Not everyone pitches to a New York agent. It’s an adventure. I’ll be proud of myself for doing it no matter the outcome. My pitch isn’t perfect and that’s OK. I’ll learn from whatever happens and I won’t die.”

On Saturday morning Rita and Annie Bomke, an agent from San Diego, co-present two workshops. 

Annie Bomke

The first workshop outlines the benefits of working with an agent. The second workshop explains the process of seeking representation in writing by sending query letters and supporting documents to agents.

These workshops end at 11:05 am. My appointment with Rita is scheduled for 11:20 am. I will have a generous ten minutes with her. My pitch takes less than three minutes. I hope I’ll be able to answer any questions she may have. My hands are trembling. I have fifteen minutes to bolster my confidence. I remind myself that I will not die.

Rita puts me at ease immediately when I tell her who has recommended her to Nita and me. She likes to know how people hear about her.

I launch my pitch. She listens intently. When I finish her first words are “Thank you.” I remember that clearly. I am not sure what came next. If she had said something critical, I’d be able to recite it verbatim. However, her remarks are positive, something like this. “Thank you for a well-crafted pitch.” I can hardly believe what I am hearing.

She begins to explore my platform (marketing plan), something agents must consider with all the changes that have occurred in the publishing industry.

At some point she mentions, “Your story has a compelling narrative arc.” (structure of story: introduction rising action, climax, falling action, resolution)

Then she wants to know when the climax of my story occurred. I tell her 1999. She asks, “Why now?”

I’m so at ease with her by this time I tell her honestly, “I needed to gain maturity. I’ve been writing at it for years but not in a way I’d feel comfortable presenting to the public. As I’ve been writing in the past two or three years, I’ve come to see the strength I’ve gained through all the years of struggle.”

She says, “You’re persistent.”

She continues with a tone that says to me she means it, she’s not just being polite. “Send me a proposal but take your time. Work on developing your platform.”

I am ecstatic. My very first pitch ever in my whole life and a New York agent is showing genuine interest. This will go down in the annals as one of the highlights of my life.

I float down the stairs and head for the lunch room. "The Plot Sisters" are there and want to know how my pitch went. I bubble with excitement as I share my good news. 

The Plot Sisters

Christina matches my enthusiasm and says with a huge smile on her face, “We have a lot of good writers in Dayton and we support each other. We can be part of your platform.” 

I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. A supportive community has always been a lifeline for me.

Now, I have my work cut out for me. As interested as Rita might be, the writing has to be good for her to actually agree to represent me. And the Master Class on Sunday (more on that in a future post) shows I still have a lot to learn about writing memoir.  But as Rita pointed out, I’m persistent.

I didn't die and no matter the outcome, I'm very proud of myself for courageously facing a fear and taking a risk. Isn't that what LIVING is all about?

The Plot Sisters

Today I want to acknowledge five vibrant Dayton writers. They dub themselves “The Plot Sisters,” meet regularly to critique each other’s writing, and attend writing conferences together.

Traci Ison Schafer, Cindy Cremeans, Christina Consolino, Jen Messaros

Ruthann Kain (not pictured)

Fortuitously, I reconnected with four of them at the Mad Anthony Writer’s Conference the first weekend in April after first meeting them in Katrina Kittle’s Character Development class last summer. 

http://katrinakittle.blogspot.com/

My next blog post will reveal my greatest adventure at Mad Anthony. I’ll give you a teaser. Gathering my courage, I stretched beyond my comfort zone in the literary world. "The Plot Sisters" cheered me on, celebrated my courage, and offered continuing support. What could be better than that?

I’m grateful to count "The Plot Sisters" among my newest writing friends and supporters. No one reaches their goals alone. Aspiring authors all, we are giving each other mutual support.  I’d like to introduce them to you.

I follow Traci and Christina’s blogs. Check them out here and join in the cheering:

http://traciisonschafer.blogspot.com/

http://17gon.blogspot.com/

An Abundance of Riches

I’m overflowing with gratitude for the abundance enriching my life the past couple of weekends. 

What an adventure attending my first writer's conference, The Mad Anthony Writer's Conference, at Miami University Hamilton last weekend. There will be more to come on this topic in future posts.

http://writelikemad.com/

Our Cincinnati Writer’s Group met yesterday. Our sharing reached a new depth. We don't know if it was our topic or if our group is maturing. Some members of the group have been meeting since 1999. Jenny, Kate, and I joined in 2010. Our topic for this meeting was, "What Stops Me." They recommended that I post my essay here. I will one of these days. 

Back Row: Jenny, Kate, Lynne, Jean

Front Row: Linda, Gary, Isabelle

Darren McGarvey, founder of Dayton's Word’s Worth Writing Center, spoke at the Salon at Harmony Creek Church this morning. I'm excited. He's considering teaching a Memoir Writing Class this summer. No pressure, Darren.

http://www.wordsworthdayton.com

Sue Monk Kidd, one of my favorite author’s, appeared on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday today. She is best known for “The Secret Life of Bees.” Her memoirs, “When the Heart Waits” and “The Dance of the Dissident Daughter,” both had a huge impact on me. The program today was full of so much wisdom, I felt joy drinking it in. If you missed it, you should be able to find it on Oprah's website.

http://www.oprah.com/app/super-soul-sunday.html

http://suemonkkidd.com/

In my next post, I’ll share more about my adventure at Mad Anthony.

My Journey with Grace

Early years:

Sometimes grace is a ribbon of mountain air that gets in through the cracks.

Anne Lamott 

Grace is tied to our image of God and what it means to be human. When I was in my early teens, the parish worker in our church helped me develop a loving image of God because of the way she related to me. She treated me as a person of worth, listened to me as though I had something to contribute, and nurtured me. I was unaware that I was receivng a precious gift of Divine grace. Church was my oasis away from the biting criticism I received at home. My mother’s worries about “what’s wrong with Linda?” left me feeling flawed, but not sinful. I worked hard to prove Mom wrong. If I thought about sin at all, I relegated it to dastardly behavior, something a “good girl” like me, even though flawed, could not be guilty of.

My best friend from high school and I both became teachers. She shared with me shortly after we began our careers that she feared she was committing the sin of pride because she felt good about herself as a teacher. I gave her a puzzled look. She added, “You know, like we learned in Sunday school.”

I didn’t remember learning that. I couldn’t fathom that my friend was sinful for recognizing her gifts as a teacher, so I decided to do a little research. I learned that the passages of scripture speaking to the sin of pride refer to arrogance, conceit, and haughtiness, not something characterizing my friend. I told her what I’d found, stating, “It’s okay for you to feel good about yourself as a teacher.” I had just taken my first foray into serving as a spiritual guide.

Disintegration:

I wish grace and healing were more abracadabra kind of things.

Also, that delicate silver bells would ring to announce grace’s arrival.

But no, it’s clog and slog and scotch, on the floor, in the silence, in the dark.

Anne Lamott

During my dark night of the soul, my experience was of being abandoned by a judgmental God. I wondered if God saw something wrong in me as my mother had. I wondered if I’d done something offensive and my difficult life was punishment for my sin. During a discussion about turning one’s will and life over to the care of God, I found myself in tears. The words that came from my mouth surprised me. “I don’t think God cares about me.” It made no sense to me at an intellectual level, but at the emotional level, I suffered. Today I realize that childhood experiences imprinted deeply in my psyche produced this state of mind, overriding my intellect. My extended dark night played havoc with my thinking.

Well-meaning people would say, “God only gives you as much as you can handle.” I thought that image of God odd...giving us pain as a test of our strength. Imagining a God inflicting pain on purpose only made my suffering worse.

Describing grace as an undeserved gift from God also did not help. Wrestling to understand the absence of grace in my life, blind to any extension of God’s grace, deaf to any mention of grace, all I heard in church were messages of sin, unworthiness, judgment, and the need to repent. Even though my progressive denomination did not accentuate the need for redemption as some churches do, any hint stabbed at my heart.

Integration: It’s a Process

Sometimes grace works like water wings when you feel you are sinking.

Anne Lamott

In my theological education, I learned about an ancient creation-centered wisdom tradition that preceded the church’s emphasis on our sinful need for redemption. This tradition, all but lost in Christianity today, emphasizes our original blessing as co-creators with a Creator God who calls us to a LIFE of loving action fostering dignity for all. For me, that is inspiring.  How favorably we must be regarded in the eyes of our Creator to be given such a high calling and awesome responsibility.

Matthew Fox, a Dominican scholar, is a prolific writer about creation-centered spirituality. He recognizes that it may have been necessary for humanity to concentrate during a certain period on our fallenness, but he believes the time has come to let that preoccupation give way to attention to Divine grace. I agree with him and think the preoccupation of which he speaks, along with the critical imprint from my childhood, contributed to my awakening to grace being so long.

  

Being introduced to the richness of the original languages in the Bible, a richness not conveyed in English, had an impact. Enlightened by scholars who study these ancient languages, I began to hear sin differently. The Hebrew word for sin is chattah and the Greek is hamartia. Both are archery terms for missing a target. Sin means missing the mark. I love that and find it empowering. If the mark is missed, there is always another opportunity to hit it.

The Greek word for conversion is metanoia, literally meaning “going another way” or “changing your mind.” The positive framework presented in the original languages is far more inspiring to me than being dragged down by a negative, disempowering focus on departing from my hopeless inferior sinful state. I came to see us humans as having been endowed by our Creator with the capacity to change our way of thinking and acting. I think we actualize ourselves as co-creators when we challenge ourselves to act out of higher levels of being. Of course, I often miss the mark, but in every moment I have the opportunity to change. Being given a second, third, or whatever it takes chance is comforting. In my experience, uncovering the Divine nature within me is a form of prayer, equally as important as praying to an external God for help. Empowered to fulfill a high calling to partner with my Creator in continuing acts of creation, today I see myself and all co-creators as deserving of grace, even when we miss the mark over and over again. I don’t think it’s about deserving or not deserving. I think it is about awakening.

During my dark night of confusion, I often said, “I need God with skin on.” My pain prevented me from recognizing the many friends who walked with me through this experience as the Divine messengers they were. I am eternally grateful for those who responded to their awesome call to be co-creators by reaching out to me, helping me “change my mind” about God. Consoled by their care, I moved from experiencing God as Judge to embracing God as Cosmic Comforter, one who suffers with us through our dark night experiences.

Even after that powerful experience of grace in 1999, it took time for me to integrate grace into my psyche. As I mentioned in my first blog post, the writing of my memoir transformed the way I look at my life...awakening me to seeing my difficult life as the context for my spiritual journey, finally achieving the integration I began consciously seeking in 1984. Today, in my better moments, I am challenged and empowered to find the gift available in every painful moment, recognizing Divine grace in everything. I am in awe of the mystery and The Mystery. 

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace –

Only that it meets us where we are

But does not leave us where it found us.

Anne Lamott

Finding My Voice as a Writer

And the truth of your experience can only come through in your own voice.

Anne Lamott

As an introvert, I’m more comfortable speaking before a large gathering than engaging one-on-one. For me, opening up is reserved for only a trusted few. Listening is more my mode of being, something that seems to be a lost art. In my professional life before writing, I facilitated clients in listening under the words for the meaning. Amazing connections were made when deep listening led to hidden understandings, opening a whole new world between people who’d known each other for decades. But that’s another topic.

Unstructured, open-ended groups are a challenge for me, and, as I’ve learned, for many introverts. We have difficulty breaking into free-for-all conversations to share our viewpoint. If the group is structured around a topic with turns being taken to make room for everyone’s perspective, we do much better.

As a good kid, I mostly obeyed the prevailing custom to which my parents adhered, “Children are to be seen and not heard?” Expressing myself in writing came easier. I read an earlier draft of my memoir, A Long Awakening to Grace, to two friends of almost forty years. They replied several times, “I didn’t know that happened.” I am able to write about things that are difficult to talk about.

These are some of the challenges I faced in finding my writing voice, something I’d read is difficult for all writers and very important. I didn’t fully understand what that meant—to write in my own voice—so I just kept writing and wondering. 

Then, in August of 2013, I attended a weekend Memoir Lab at Omega Institute led by Marge Piercy and Ira Wood. There were over forty students in the lab and we all had an opportunity to read a piece of our work before the whole group for feedback. A few read twice. Unbeknownst to me, the experience of hearing so many diverse voices along with the feedback they received about their strengths and weaknesses provided an opening for me to find my voice.

At the end of the lab, I went back to my room with ideas popping I wanted to get down before they were lost. I pulled out my computer, and began revising my first chapter. Suddenly, as I was writing, I stopped in amazement. I was writing differently than ever before. I had found my voice. It was a very exciting moment.

Writing helps us make sense of our lives and find meaning in it. As I study the craft of memoir, I learn that good writing finds a unique way of expressing this. What I discovered about my voice as a writer in that Omega dorm room is my unique way of sharing my internal process with my readers.

In addition to being an introvert, I am a contemplative. I ponder my life experiences, sorting through the chaotic world of feelings and sometimes insane thoughts inside. In the process, I discover growth edges and am guided to valuable life lessons. It’s a messy process and in the end, so very rewarding. And it is a true reflection of how I am in the world.

What surprised and delighted me is the emergence of a touch of irreverence in my voice. Under my calm, serious exterior lies a courageous hint of daring. It makes me smile.  

Memoir: A Path of Transformation

I want to write, but more than that,

I want to bring out all kinds of things

that lie buried in my heart.

Anne Frank

In 1999, after a long painful period in my life with both my children, we experienced being gifted with Grace. A twenty-two year search for the cause of our painful circumstances yielded nothing that made a difference. Then, quite miraculously, the answer arrived...in a hospital...in a most unexpected way. When the story was being relayed to a nurse (really an angel disguised as a nurse), she looked at me and said several times, “You need to write a book about this.”

Keeping a journal for most of my adult life has been my way of praying to The Mystery (what I prefer to call the Divine). In my journal, I write to understand my life, wrestling with the big questions of life, and, like Anne Frank, to bring out what is buried in my heart.

·        Who am I? Who am I being in my life?

·       What’s the purpose of my life? Am I living my purpose?

·       What values are most important to me and am I living in alignment with them?

·       What are my ideals and am I being true to them?

·       Does my life matter and, if so, in what way?

·       Am I living in a way that serves the greater good?

·       Are some people designated as special...chosen to receive joyful blessings?

·       What is the meaning of the pain in my life? Is it punishment? How am I to think      about it?

·       What are the lessons I am here to learn? Am I learning them?

·       Can I trust You, The Mystery, to be a benevolent force? Are you for me?

·       If so, how am I being supported in the midst of all this pain?

 At the moment of commitment, the entire Universe conspires to assist you.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

It took ten years after that first encouragement to find the maturity to begin writing A Long Awakening to Grace in earnest. I'd been writing at it for years. And then these past four years, my memoir has been writing me. 

Two years ago, I found a writing partner in the Spirituality Forum meeting at our local senior citizens center. We were both writing our memoirs and decided to meet every two weeks to read and critique each other’s work. Reading to Nita was an act of courage because she has not experienced the kind of challenges in her life I’ve had in mine. She never once judged me, even as I revealed shameful secrets. She told me, “I feel as though I’ve been chosen to hear your story.” I agreed, believing it was Divine guidance that brought us together. With her support, several drafts have been revised and now one is in the process of being polished. Thank you Universe!!

I struggled to find an ending because in some ways the circumstances in my story continue. And then a miracle emerged. In the process of writing and sharing my story with Nita, I began to perceive my life in a whole new way. Remaining vestiges of victim dropped away. Looking back at my younger self through more mature eyes, admiration for my determination to grow and my strength in persevering appeared. Listening with an open-heart as I read to Nita, compassion for what I was going through and forgiveness for my weaknesses surfaced.

And then one day a Grace-filled awakening came to pass. Gratitude for my pain flowed from my pen as I wrote in my journal. My eyes were opened to my difficult life being the context for my sacred journey and, as improbable as it seemed, to my challenging children being my spiritual teachers. Their trials gave me many opportunities to surrender and to learn to love in heart-wrenching circumstances. The ending, or in actuality the continuing, gifted me with an experience of the transformative power of memoir.

A memoir may always be retrospective,

but the past is not where its action takes place.

Nuala O’Faolain