I want to talk about a new philosophy I’ve learned as a mom. There have already been many of them, and I’m sure there will be many more. But this is the one I want to talk about, because it’s the one I need most right now.
Since my son was born, we’ve become well-acquainted with his pediatrician, mostly due to a problem that started cropping up in his second month: milk protein intolerance. We’re exclusively breastfeeding, and what this means is that my son has a reaction to dairy if I eat it. This reaction was manifesting as blood in his poop. Terrifying, right?
If there’s one thing true about me, it’s that I’m stubborn. I feel that I worked too hard and went through too much pain in the beginning of breastfeeding for it to become comfortable and a good bonding experience for us, so I sure as hell don’t want to stop until I feel he has reaped the full benefits! So, the answer was simple: cut out all dairy from my diet, even “hidden” dairy in the ingredients section disguised as whey, casein, buttermilk, etc. I scoured allergen information for restaurants. I became intimately familiar with the all-bold MILK pronouncement on the ingredients section of foods, often followed by a “Really?!?!” and a groan. My husband also became familiar with these things, since he does a lot of our shopping and wants to help support my success with the diet (isn’t he cool?).
Some of the things that include dairy are surprising: the particular brand of Worcestershire sauce in our fridge, for one. McDonald’s fries (yeah, look it up!). Certain pretzels. I no longer eat anything processed if I can’t examine the ingredients, because milk inclusion in processed foods has no reliable pattern.
Every time since the diagnosis, when my son has a bowel movement, I also
get a small amount of anxiety. I get anxiety because I’m afraid to open the diaper and see blood in it again. Afraid we’ll have to go to the doctor again this week only to be told to “keep monitoring it” and that “all dairy may not be out of your systems yet.” Afraid of the next step in the elimination diet, if that’s necessary. Will it be soy? Will it be wheat? Will I be able to cope with the diet changes if that’s the case?
Then my husband said something to me one morning that made a lot of sense (cue husband’s I’m right! bragging).
“One poo at a time,” he said. “Just take it one poo at a time.”
And that’s what I’m trying to do right now, guys. With everything, not just this. I suggest you do that too.
My son has entered the world! I have a beautiful, healthy, sweet baby boy. We’re so happy and grateful for our new addition to our family! I’ve been taking a break from blogging to adjust to mommyhood.
Even though it’s been quiet here on the blog, I’ve still been writing. I’m currently 10,000 words deep into a short story that I started the week before my due date. I’m almost finished with the first draft and I hope to have it done in the next few days. I don’t want to give anything away, but it’s a sci-fi story (I suppose I’m on a bit of a sci-fi kick) that will contain my first attempt at a real twist ending. How have I done this, you ask? Well, let’s just say I’m a lot better at multitasking now. And it’s completely possible to type while nursing.
Before I go I want to give a little plug for a contest I’m entering, and there’s still a day left to enter! It closes at the end of tomorrow. If you want to participate, it’s a contest for any 200-word excerpt written by you. It can be published previously or not. Join me and give it a whirl if you want! You can enter here.
I can barely believe it’s here. And yet, today is really just like any other day. Babies often don’t come on their due dates. They come when they’re ready. We’ll see what happens!
As I shrug off the anxious requests for updates with yet another “No, nothing yet [I did say I’d tell you, right??],” it’s natural to want to consider what this new change is going to mean for my life.
I know that once my son is here, nothing will ever be the same again. But I am determined about one thing. It won’t mean an end to my writing. I will continue to do it, because it makes me feel happy. Most of all, it’s what brings me meaning in my life. So even if I need to slip it into little windows of time, I’m going to make sure I take that time.
I’ve spent the last few weeks of my pregnancy writing poetry and submitting to some online journals in the hope that maybe I’ll get some nice surprises during or after my maternity leave. I think there is always a way to keep doing something you love, if you want it badly enough.
The Midwest has been experiencing our share of winter weather, and I hope all of you have been staying safe!
I wanted to share a poem by Shekhar Aiyar published by Able Muse called Crash, Trance, Winter. I hope you take a few moments to read it, because it’s only eight lines long! Even though it’s a poem about something incredibly stressful and unpleasant (a car crash), the author manages to make it sound beautiful.
On New Year’s Eve, I finished the second draft of my novel (yay!), which is also the reason why I did not post here in December. All of my creative efforts were funneled into that draft.
The Importance of Multiple Drafts
I can’t emphasize enough the importance of revision in writing. It’s a huge milestone to create a second draft because it signals a fundamental change in the status of one’s manuscript. Instead of being as substantive as a puddle of unset jello, it’s looking more like the consistency of a beautiful cheesecake!
Or, to use another metaphor, a piece of writing is like a cake. Your first draft is pretty crappy, kind of like your first attempt at making a cake from a box mix. Maybe only your loved ones are willing to look at it, and even they have to reach a bit to compliment it. “Oh, it looks so nice,” they say. Really, though, a child probably could have done it. And maybe that child wouldn’t have confused salt for sugar. Oops!
You’ve definitely accomplished something, though, and a crappy cake from a box is better than having no cake at all. This draft is crucial. You have to start somewhere or you can never get better!
Your second draft is really something to be proud of. It looks like the sort of cake you might order from a big chain store. Nothing mind-blowing to be sure, but it has the look of something professional. The design and other choices make sense. You started using some proper tools, and it really shows up on that icing. People will probably be really excited to consume this, and they might be pretty impressed that you created it!
So what happens if you persevere and keep improving upon that draft until you get to your 3rd+ draft? That’s when you end up with something that has finesse and artistry. The draft has a cohesive theme and style, and you can tell that every choice was made deliberately and executed beautifully.
There are layers upon layers of complexity: the cake might have tiers and multiple fillings and realistic-looking sugared garnishes. You start using phrases like ganache when describing your creations. No regular person could make a cake like this. It takes skill and years of training. It might even have a simple design, but it will nonetheless be executed with expert precision. This is the final draft.
If my predictions and hopes are correct, my journey from second to third draft will be a bit less strenuous than the immense jump from the first draft to the second draft.
I Finished my Store-Bought Cake Draft!
My goal for December was to finish my second draft. And lo, right on the 31st, I finished those edits. I had pregnancy-friendly sparkling grape juice and my husband cooked my favorite food (steak!) in support. There was much celebrating and feasting in the Bennett house that day.
But something that surprised me, something that I haven’t heard many other people or writers discuss, is how I felt after finishing that draft. For months and months I’ve been striving toward the same goal: to get my draft ready for other eyes (finish the 2nd draft) before my baby arrives. I’ve used all kinds of different tactics to achieve that goal: I’ve been waking up early, squeezing in writing time during lunch breaks at work, and staying up late. I gave up several of my downtime activities like playing video games or watching much TV during the week. I even scaled back some of my involvement in certain writing critique groups in support of my one goal.
With all those sacrifices in mind, I think I expected to feel a sense of relief when the great effort was over. I imagined I would feel a tremendous sense of achievement and that my whole being would be able to relax in knowing my goal was met and that my book was solidly on its way out into the world. I thought I would feel less stressed knowing that the hard work of my book would be already done before my child arrived and upended all my routines.
I am incredibly happy and proud and relieved to have met my goal, but the overwhelming feeling that was biggest after finishing that draft was something else. The word that best describes it is emptiness.
Emptiness upon meeting my big stretch goal. Is that bizarre? In the week after I met this goal, I felt as though I were missing something or someone in my life! I felt like a drifter with no purpose. My new free time felt more like a chore that I had to take care of somehow rather than a freedom.
I missed the crazed, deadline-induced mania of putting my all into something and to have a clear purpose for every unused moment. I realized that the process of creating this second draft, which had been so difficult, was something that I would actually miss.
I know the obvious answer to this feeling is to start working on the third draft, but I think it is important to give the draft some time to breathe, and also to let myself recover from the tremendous sprint that was finishing it.
So I’m living in this slightly uncomfortable moment and allowing (read: forcing!) myself to do some things I have not had time to do for a while (not to mention relax during my last month of pregnancy!). Movies, shows, games, play, leisure, and socialization. These things are important too.
That’s why I’m dedicating at least this week to relaxation and reconnecting with the parts of my life that have been pushed out of the picture for a while. After that, I’ll be looking for beta readers and turning this average little store-bought cake draft into a refined, tiered, wedding-cake draft!
What about you? Do you ever have a sense of loss after finishing a big project? Did you ever have an experience where you expected to feel one way and ended up feeling something completely different? If you’re a writer, what metaphor would you use to describe the unskilled, glorious mess that is your first draft?
I have a new home. Two new homes, really. I’m attempting to live in both at one time.
One is this new website and blog that I’ve created after a long time away from blogging. If you’ve known me for longer than two years, then you’ll know I used to sustain a photography blog. I let it smolder and sizzle out into nothing when I decided that I wanted to talk about more than just photography and shift my focus primarily on the craft of creative writing instead.
It also took some time for me to rationalize spending time on a blog instead of working on my novel. Did I mention that yet? No? Oh, sorry. I’m working on a novel. That’s probably going to be a large part of what I discuss here, along with general thoughts on writing.
I realized I needed an outlet for my thoughts on writing when, after a particularly scintillating and life-affirming writing session, I started to write a Facebook post about my thoughts on revision and craft. It was only after the paragraphs and lines kept spinning out of me like a never-ending skein of yarn that I realized I had a little more to say than what would be appropriate for a Facebook post. I decided it would be more merciful to allow my dear friends to opt into these thoughts of mine rather than be assaulted with a block of text in their news feeds. So the post got the copy/paste treatment and was saved for my future blog rather than being splattered on the walls of social media.
This blog is one of my new homes. The other is the apartment I recently moved into with my husband, my dog, and my baby-to-be. I guess that’s another thing to tell you about me: I’m expecting a baby soon.
We moved into an apartment after three years of owning our own home, and it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment. I’m still learning the ebbs and flows of this soundscape full of crying children, heavy footsteps, and barking dogs. Sometimes I sit and imagine what the source of certain mystery sounds could be, but I can only imagine using the very limited information provided to me. I learn a little bit about the people who live around me every time I heard their sounds, but mostly I must simply imagine what (the hell!) they could be doing up there.
That is what I hope to do with this blog. I invite you to come put your ear to the drywall and listen in to the creaks and groans of my life, this writing life, and to fill in the gaps of your imagination with the few details I can give you. And maybe, by inhabiting this space together as neighbors, we can fill these pages with life. Life, and the sound of humans discussing ideas together. Online, I guess that sounds most like fingers tapping on keyboards.
Be a good human, won’t you, and leave something in the comments.