about writing a novel

I’ve always wanted to write a novel. The only obstacle: I don’t know what to write about. I feel hindered by a lack of imagination.

Is it that I don’t have a good imagination? My dreams certainly are full of image and drama. And I have an infinite capacity to imagine disaster and project disappointment. I fantasize often about the love of my life, the house of my dreams, the wealth I desire. I just don’t think I have the “right” imagination. Whatever that means. To be explored…

Is it that I lack the patience to craft a fictional account of my life or dreams? I certainly have patience to do many other things – write on my blog, decorate for Christmas, shop for clothes and gifts, research bizarre and ordinary topics for my own interest, read book after book after book, do sudoku and crossword puzzles. Yes, I have patience.

Is it that I lack discipline? Well, I do lack a certain kind of discipline - to MAKE myself do things every day in the sense of a routine, as in "I write every day from 9 to 12." What I do have is integrity, a strong in-bred or in-born sense of deadlines and what it takes to do something, a willingness to work hard when there are outside accountabilities. And I am discovering that I do have inner motivation and drive to act in pursuit of my recently discovered and articulated goals. So discipline may not be what I need. Maybe I simply need to tap into and keep expressing that inner motivation and drive. When my passion is awoken, I engage fully in pursuit of that passion. I crave the “flow” state, when time does not exist and I am my task.

OK, back to that “to be explored” paragraph. What do I think of when I think “right” imagination? I think of what engages me, interests me. I love learning something new. Spy novels teach me about stealth and secrecy, gadgets and technological capabilities, geo-political realities and nuances, male fantasy, and the puzzles of human minds and motivations. Historical novels teach me about a period of time, its cultural mores, dress, food, pastimes, attitudes, intrigues, geo-political concerns, economic reality, and health concerns (including hygiene). Mysteries allow me to explore the human psyche as I learn about police investigative procedures, life in a particular time and place, and usually a specific topic such as horticulture or hunting or life in the Scottish Highlands or jewelry and art theft. And I admit to enjoying romance novels set in Regency and Victorian England or Scotland. They satisfy two impulses: the drive to learn about other times and places, and to fantasize about my own dream lover.

I’m largely uninterested in most modern novels wherein pathos and despair are explored ad nauseum, or a strangely surreal world is created as thinly-veiled allegory for our own. The modern novels I enjoy are science fiction, science fantasy and pure fantasy – all the young people’s books and book series about dragons and time/place travel. Whole new worlds are created to explore, with new layers revealed as each chapter and book unfolds.

Most modern novels are too depressing for me. I can’t lose myself within them, lest I become depressed from their endless loop of hopelessness. Life itself is difficult enough for me to want to read reflections of it. Probably I give too short shrift to modern writing and could find books that are more hopeful and rewarding. The Red Tent was one such book. While I enjoyed Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres, it was depressing as well as well written. I’ve tried some other authors – DeLillo, Roth, Malamud. I do like John Irving. OK, there’s one. I’ll have to give some a try. But so many are pretty heavy going, full of pedantry and disguised punditry, or moralizing finger-wags at some authority figure or institution. I’m not interested in judgments. I’m very happy to be entertained and educated, even to be guided to ethical musings and moral considerations. And that's what I'd love to be able to write!

about the internet as my lifeline

Today, I realized how dependent I am on the internet, e-mail and web services for contact with the outside world. Having physical limitations means I'm less able to do things in person, such as going to events, meeting new people, launching and participating in various projects, learning about people, places and things. Instead, I derive great mental stimulation from the virtual world. And increasingly, my collegial relationships take place in the cyberworld instead of the real world. Even many friendships, such as that with Cynthia who lives in California, take place via telephone instead of in person.

We talked about that today, in the context of Cynthia not really trusting or liking the internet because it seems to provide too easy a substitute for real-life relationships. I startled myself by voicing a hitherto submerged truth - that if not for the internet, I wouldn't really have a whole lot to do. My life - limited as it is now - would be immeasurably boring and seemingly pointless.

Of course, my in-person, real-life, five-senses relationships with my nieces Ana and Julia are not boring nor pointless. Nor are my relationships with Alana, Rick, Sue, Phillipa, Ron, Laura, other folks I know and love here in Maplewood. I guess talking to my parents on the telephone last night brought home how many of my close relationships are now somewhat virtual - they in Nebraska, John & Susi in Colorado, Cynthia in California, Stephen in Florida, Anna in Chicago and Minnesota. The last two seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, not responding to my communications via e- and snail-mail and telephone. It's very frustrating to be virtual at times like these.

For the most part, though, the virtual world is good to and for me. I am educating myself about all manner of things, from coaching to setting up e-zines to marketing oneself and one's ideas on the internet to losing weight and getting fitter. I got an MBA entirely on-line over 18 months. I reconnect with people and begin new relationships entirely on-line and sometimes also on the telephone. I can express my ideas and develop new ones. I've become self-taught in the areas of sustainability and things green, education, oil production, terrorism, and travel in Scotland and England. I expand my vocabulary and keep my mind fit by doing Sudoku. I am current on a lot of news around the world, as well as up on celebrity culture. Julia and I play games on the computer and I can pretty much find anything I want or need on the internet. And my plan is to spread my ideas through the internet.

By necessity, I have learned how to navigate this medium and the etheric world it encompasses. And far from limiting my relationships, it has enabled many of them.

about laughter

Recent conversations with friends and colleagues who are a little depressed remind me about how laughing really helped me emerge from a deep depression when I was in my mid-20's.

I'd had an awful breakup - "jilted" was the term a health care professional used to refer to how my hopes and dreams were completely dashed. Another professional told me "you don't handle disappointment very well." Understatement of the century.

I was alternately hysterical and almost catatonic with grief, and then it morphed into deepest gloom. I couldn't sleep and when I finally did sleep, I didn't want to wake up. After dragging myself to work, I'd close my office door and cry. I cried all day, at night, and then the next day.

People told me it would pass, and one day I'd realize I hadn't cried at all that day. And so the healing would happen over time. Being 27, I was far too young to understand that I would actually eventually really heal. I was convinced I would feel this way forever. And every moment felt like an eternity, excruciating eternity.

One day, someone told me I should start laughing. She recommended that I find all the funny shows I could, get tapes of them (this was VHS/VCR time), and play them over and over while I laughed. She told me that I needed to replace my grief with another strong emotion - humor - and get the experience of fun into my life.

Being sick of myself, I decided to take her advice - despite being absolutely certain that it would not work. I got tapes of I Love Lucy and I started watching Joan Rivers' late night talk show.

Joan Rivers helped me heal probably more than anything else. I laughed so hard at her jokes and at her conversation with her guests. She was goofy and smart, witty and smart-alecky. I found myself laughing in a way I'd never laughed before in my life - out loud! I was a child and teenager who hid my laughs, never wanting to be noticed too much with a loud laugh. Well, I found out that I really do have a loud laugh. And it felt great to use it.

Joan Rivers, Lucy Ricardo and my friend Dale Rutkin were the women who saw me through the worst of my depression. Dale would stay on the phone with me for hours late at night, talking to me about how I would get better, feel better, never have to feel this again, and all I had to do was get through this day. Then I'd turn on Joan Rivers and laugh. Finally, I'd be able to relax and sleep.

I did heal. And I've never had to feel that way again.

Laughing was the most healing thing I did. And not only did I heal by laughing, I also got a perspective on life that sticks with me until today. I can choose to stay unhappy and depressed or I can look for ways to get out of those feelings. I don't have to be trapped forever by a bad feeling or situation. By choosing to laugh, I got a sense that I did have some control over my life and feelings. And that helped me take the steps necessary for me to address some of the underlying reasons for my deep depression.

The power of laughter to heal has been documented by several researchers (see below), as well as by Norman Cousins in his book Anatomy of an Illness. And now I add my own story to the list of testaments to laughing one's way to health.

Psychology Today
University of Maryland
MDA
Science Daily
Medical News