Christina Katz’s The Prosperous Writer on Authenticity this week reminded me of an incident from my college days. The more I thought about it, the more I realized this story in some ways was the beginning of me recognizing my authentic self though I wasn’t quite ready to embrace her completely.
I went to my advisor to discuss problems in a class I was taking. The problem revolved around the professor’s treatment of students in the class. I hadn’t been singled out, but I found his intolerance of and belittling comments to other classmates offensive. After I described the situation to my advisor carefully avoiding, or so I thought, anything that would identify the professor in question, my advisor sat back, crossed his arms over his ample stomach, lifted one hand and removed his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, and re-crossed his arms. I knew he was giving the situation careful consideration before answering. As memory serves, he said something to the effect of “I know you wouldn’t come to me if you weren’t terribly bothered, but you have to think about yourself in this instance. You are only a few weeks from graduating, and he’s a tenured professor.” At this point, my eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to speak. He held up his hand halting me before I could. “Yes, I know to whom you’re referring. I won’t say how. The point is if you make a formal report, he is in a position to find a way to give you an incomplete and prevent you from graduating. Besides, as you’ve explained it, the people he’s targeted want to let it go, so they’re not going to back you up. You’re going to end in a situation where it’s your word against his topped by the problem that those he targeted won’t get involved.” He paused briefly. “Let’s face it, you don’t grovel. I doubt you know how. I like this about you, but it will make it difficult for you to work the politics involved if you make a formal complaint.”
There was a bit more back and forth. I saw his point, but I was uncomfortable with just letting it go. We worked up a solution that included an anonymous, generic complaint against the professor’s behavior in class that my advisor wouldn’t actually make until after I graduated. While it wouldn’t do my classmates any good, I felt like at least I’d said something to someone.
How does this relate to authenticity? When my professor pointed out that I didn’t grovel, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. He was right. When I thought I was right about something, I would stand my ground relentlessly. Still do. I wasn’t good at asking for forgiveness even when I knew I was wrong, so when I was right, there was no way it would happen. I’m much better now at asking for forgiveness when I’m wrong. I don’t play politics, and I don’t do spin. I believe that honesty is the only solution, and that dishonesty only makes things worse.
My friends tell me that they only ask me a question if they want to hear the truth. They’re quick to point out that I’m never mean about it, but that they know I always give my honest response from my heart and my gut. But, my friends also tell me, they always know I’ll listen to their side of the story without judgment.
I’ve always been who I am without apology even when I was unsure who that person was. Even when I felt the need to protect my heart, soul, and mind by not allowing anyone to get too close or to see too much vulnerability. Oddly, looking back, I realize even that person was authentic in many ways. It wasn’t who I would ultimately become, but it was who I needed to be at that time in my life. Any time I’ve tried to become someone I’m not - too nice, too sweet, too tough, or whatever - it has always backfired. People, myself included, have ended up hurt, so I don’t play those kind of games.
The hardest thing about being authentic is understanding that no matter how authentic we are, there are going to be people who don’t relate to our authenticity. There are going to be people who would rather play games and hide behind manners than to be their true selves or to see our true selves. Don’t misunderstand, I think good manners are essential in life and not taught nearly enough, but I don’t like it when people hide behind manners to avoid the truth of who they are. It is possible to be polite and authentic at the same time. If you and I can’t be authentic with each other, then we can’t grow together. Our relationship will stagnate because it will be built on the superficial, and the superficial provides no foundation if authenticity doesn’t find it’s way into the relationship.
When I write, I bring my authentic self to the page. It’s really all I’ve got to offer the world. Every topic has already been discussed, explored, and dissected in some way or another. The only thing I can do is perhaps provide someone a new perspective, uplift someone’s self-esteem, and encourage people to give one another a chance to become authentic themselves. The more authentic I am in life, the more chance my words have of being authentic on paper.
The most important thing about being authentic isn’t finding who you are. It’s accepting all of who you are - the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. I didn’t feel authentic until I moved past finding my authentic self and accepted my authentic self.The phone rings. I answer with a smile “Hello.” I’m usually fairly certain who is calling. After all Caller ID makes screening calls easy. On the other hand, sometimes it’s a bit vague, and I no longer even try to memorize everyone’s phone number. For example, cell phones tend to show up on my Caller ID as “Cell ST” with ST representing the abbreviation of the state in which the cell phone originates.
Inevitably, the person on the other end of the line will ask. “Are you busy?”
As I roll my eyes and grown inwardly, I consider my response. Do I tell the truth? Do I lie? Of course I’m busy. There are maybe 10 waking moments of any given day when I’m not actually busy with something. The person on the other end knows I’m busy and will know I’m lying. But somehow, the lie will make them feel better. Yet, inside, I feel like.. well, a lier.
There’s also the alternative where people believe that I’m never busy, so I should always have time for them. The idea that I work from home and am my own boss sometimes gives people the impression I have all the time in the world. So, saying I’m not busy gives those rare people the wrong idea. Those people generally don’t understand the work and time that goes into writing a book, poem, article, short story, essay, etc or the other chores that accompany the process. Due to this misconception, I find it all the more important to be honest when asked “Are you busy?”
So, I experimented with telling the truth. Wow, did that ever fail miserably. My Mom has now stopped calling altogether because she knows I’m “busy” as she recently told me in a letter. One of my best friends from college spent several minutes telling me she could call another time when I could tell she was clearly upset and needed to talk right then. It took a while to convince her it was okay, I could take a break and talk with her. Other friends and neighbors also rushed to ask their question or end the conversation. So much for honesty.
Don’t misunderstand, I’m as guilty as the next person. I almost always ask the same question when I call someone. I’ve been working on alternatives though.
I think what we’re really asking when we ask “Are you busy?” is “Do you have or can you make time to talk to me?” So I’ve started not answering “Are you busy?” and going straight for the real question by replying. “I can take the time to talk to you.” or “I can make the time to talk to you.” No lie, and the person calling knows I care enough to listen.
Safe assumption. If I answered the phone, I’m willing to make the time to talk to you. If I didn’t, I’m not home, I’m up against a deadline, or I’m immersed in something that demands my undivided attention. In any of those cases, I will call you back when I can make the time to talk to you. Leave a message, please. Just don’t be surprised if I have to fold clothes, load the dishwasher, or perform any number of mindless, routine chores while we talk. It doesn’t mean I care any less, just that I, like you, have responsibilities I must meet.
I expect that when I call you, you are busy with something even if it’s relaxing. I will never be offended if you ask me if we can talk later. I likely will inquire just to make sure you’re okay before I hang up, but I will understand. I won’t take it personally. If, on the other hand, you never call me back or you continuously don’t have time to talk, I will back off and wait for you to make a move.
Next time you start to ask someone ”Are you busy?” I encourage you to think about what you really want to know and ask that instead. Most of us are busy most of the time, and we all know it.
When someone asks you “Are you busy?”, tell them the truth in a gentle way or answer the question you know is really being asked.
My answer to your question. “Yes, I’m busy, but I care about you. So let’s talk.”
This week in The Prosperous Writer, Christina Katz talks about clarity. She says “…clarity asks you to get clear on where you stand, how you feel, and what your instincts are prompting you to say and do.”
I see her point. I blogged a week or so ago about “Embracing the “What if…?” as Inspiration”. While this might not seem on point at first glance, it is. For a while I’d been fighting the “What if…?” scenarios my brain was playing. I didn’t realize my brain was searching for clarity. When I did, I also realized that clarity resulted in inspiration. What a revelation! I’d been distracted, befuddled, and guilty because of the thoughts popping into my mind. As I embraced the thoughts and followed them through, clarity followed. I began to feel focused, relieved, and like myself again. That was great!
Clarity to me is that moment when I can see exactly where I stand, how I got there, and where I want to go. When those things are aligned, I can do anything. It may not be easy, but it will be possible. And, possible is great.
Writing poetry often leads me to clarity. When I’m struggling with confusion or lack of direction or emotional distraction, a line will pop in my head and then another and then another. Before long I’ve resolved my confusion, and can get back to where I need to be. The best part is I’ve also created a new writing product in the process.
The process of finding clarity can be as important as living in clarity. If you feel a bit unclear, embrace it and see where it takes you. You just might end up with a new creative writing piece and a bit more clarity on your life for your efforts.
Now, it’s time to give my desk a bit of clarity in order to restore the clarity in my mind.
This week in The Prosperous Writer, Christina Katz, discussed boundaries. As I understand it, she’s encouraging us to identify our boundaries to see if they fit our writing goals. She discusses the idea of healthy boundaries and unhealthy boundaries in one’s career.
I haven’t really given a lot of thought to the boundaries I set in my career as I tend to use the same ones I set for my life to a degree. Over the years I’ve learned to let people be who they are and to be who I am regardless of the results. As long as a person doesn’t intentially hurt someone I love or me, I let most things slide. If you don’t speak to me for a month or six and suddenly show up on my doorstep, I’m likely to smile, invite you in for a chat, and only mention your absence by inquiring if everything is okay. On the other hand, if you show up and start berating me for not calling, writing, stopping by, etc., I will in no uncertain terms, pull out my Southern charm and in my best drawl tell you exactly what I think of your attitude. I don’t mean this to be direspectful but to let you know exactly where my boundaries are. I take people at face value and until proven otherwise believe you have the best intentions at heart; however, I will never forget it if I’m proven wrong even once. I probably won’t end our relationship - whether we’re friends, colleagues, or whatever - but I will handle you differently from that point forward.
One boundary I’ve learned to set over the years regards my work. I write at home; therefore I work at home. Some people have a hard time understanding what this means. I’m home, so I should have time to help with whatever they need. I’ve learned to set rules. One of those is that when I’m writing, I rarely answer the phone, respond to email, or log on to Facebook. Okay, now that I’ve written that sentence, I realize I’ve been letting that boundary slip. Is my work suffering? Oh, geez, I’ve got to go look at that now. I didn’t think so, but I do have tasks on my task list from April (well one left from March as well.) that should be completed by now. I also have two large writing projects that have been on hold for months while my attention has been on myriad smaller projects.
For many years I had terrible problems with boundaries in my personal life. I either pushed people away or held people too tight. The result was usually the same, people left. Thinking about it, I probably did the same thing with my writing. I hid my writing from the world for fear of being treated like I was “uncool”. Other times I wore it like a shield against facing life. Still other moments in my life found me clinging to writing as if it were my life preserver. None of those produced the results I wanted. As I changed my focus to seeing my writing as not only a part of who I was but as a career, I began to pursue it differently. I still write what I want to write because using my words to influence thought and discussion about the issues we face in the world is important to me. I am now proud of what I create without the need for outside adulation - though I never turn it away - or even validation.
I’m not sure this is what Christina meant when she encouraged us to write about what boundaries mean in our life, but it’s where my thoughts took me. At first I thought I didn’t have anything to say, but I now realize that I just didn’t want to face that I’ve let some of my boundaries slip lately. Apparently, I needed the reminder even if I didn’t know it. Thanks, Christina.
This morning I logged onto Facebook to see the question:
“What did you learn from your mother?” as Diana Abu Jaber’s Status
Jessica Morrell rephrased it as “What did your mother teach you?” as her status
My initial response was to answer that I learned “that not every woman should be a mother.” As I typed this two other things popped into my mind “that I can only do my best and must always do my best even though that will never be enough” and “that when I allow other people to intimidate me, I give them my power.”
I almost posted that response but decided to delve into it a little more here.
Let’s start with the last one. When I allow people to initimidate me, I give them my power. My Mom probably would’ve never worded it the way I do. She’d always say “s/he puts his pants on just like you do. One leg at a time.” when I’d complain about someone in authority or who I thought was better than me. It would be years before this lesson would sink in because oddly my Mom didn’t really live it. She’d turn around a few minutes later and snap “Who do you think you are? The Queen of England (or insert whatever country popped into her mind at the moment, often Biblical countries)?” when she thought I was acting uppity - a favorite uppity action was posture that was too straight and proud. She tends to give off an attitude, at least privately, that she thinks most people are better, smarter, richer, etc. than her. On the other hand, she’d stand up to almost anyone over any infraction she perceived, real or not. That could be a bit confusing when I was younger. I understand it a little better now. She was in conflict about her self and that conflict carried over to the way she reared me. She often still projects the same conflict.
I can only do my best and must always do my best even though that will never be enough. To be completely fair, both parents had a hand in teaching this one. An “A” should’ve been an “A+” even if “A+” wasn’t an option. Doing better than realistic was the only acceptable outcome in my house. In many ways, I found this push inspiring. It made me constantly strive for perfection. The problem was I would rip myself to shreds and get locked in “analysis paralysis” trying to perfect things. Leaving anything at “good enough” made me feel like a failure. I still struggle with this one. I don’t get angry at others when they point out my mistakes, but I do torture myself for not being perfect. Sometimes I berate myself for a even stray thought that crosses my mind that doesn’t conform with the person I think I should be. Now, I must admit, I am getting better with this one. I know on an intellectual level that doing my best is important and is enough, but my heart races even writing that. How could I possibly not give more than my best?
Not every woman should be a mother. This one is tougher to describe. I know she did the best she could as a mother, and I give her credit for that; however, when I hear other people describe their upbringings, it often sounds quite foreign to me. In the end, her mothering highly influenced my decision that I shouldn’t have children.
No matter what, mothers inform who their children will be. It’s an awesome responsibility that should only be undertaken with the utmost love, understanding, and forethought. If you’re a Mom, don’t forget that you teach your children with every decision you make, every behavior you undertake, every word you speak, every action you take, and every attitude you project. Your entire being imprints on your children from birth onward. Do the best you can, but don’t expect yourself to be perfect. Your children need to see you correct your mistakes to learn how to problem solve their own.
If you have a great Mom, tell her how much you appreciate all she’s done for you and that she’s always there for you. If you have a good Mom, tell her how much you appreciate all her efforts. If you have a mediocre Mom, tell her you appreciate how hard she’s always tried to be all she could for you. If you have a bad Mom, tell her you appreciate that she gave you the life you have. No matter what kind of Mom each of us has, we can appreciate the life lessons we learned - and continue to learn - from her because she showed us both what we want to be and what we don’t want to be. And, tell her you love her for being the Mom she is. It’ll do you both good.
Writers, take a look at your work. I’d be willing to bet, you’ll find both what you love about your Mom and your issues with your Mom in there somewhere.
Sometimes the story writes itself. Sometimes the writer must reach deep into her soul to pull it out. Both types of story can be good, but the one from deep in the soul will somehow have more meaning to both writer and reader. A connection will be born of the words on the page. A rendering of things incomplete will occur. Pain will be eased. Questions will be raised. Answers will be discovered. And, all because someone, somewhere was willing to reach deep into her soul and bare the most vulnerable part of herself for the world to judge.
Stories that write themselves rarely have this effect because they tend to be superficial. A superficial story may be enjoyable, but it will never change someone’s life. It may even have memorable moments, but it won’t connect on a deep level with the reader. I’m not talking about research. Both types of stories can involve immense research. In this instance a story that writes itself is one the writer has little or no emotional stake for the writer as a person.
Writers must never fear playing the “What if…?” game with their own lives. We have to think about the choices we made in life and think what would’ve been different had we made different choices. I’ve been struggling with this lately as I examine my own past. I felt I was somehow betraying my friends, my family, and my husband by playing the “what if…?” game. It’s not that I would make the decisions I’m pondering if I could do it over. It’s more the idea of examining the various paths different decisions could’ve taken me down. Then looking at those decisions and paths to see if there are ideas that could make good plotlines. After I let go of the guilt of playing “what if…?”, I started to find inspiration for my writing. Even in the midst of the guilt I wrote several poems. Poems are good for dealing with guilt, at least for me. But as the guilt cleared, stories began to emerge. The roots of reality lent my imagination the tools to explore possibilities right into story lines. And, now, I’m starting to put those ideas on paper. I’m sure some will work and others won’t, but the important thing is the drive is alive and well.
Both superficial and soul wrenching have their place in the world as well as in every writer’s repertoire. And, when a writer explores the “What if…?” moments of her life, she just may find closure to losses, painful moments, and other issues. She just may discover she needs to take responsibility for her own actions and decisions in a way she didn’t realize. She may come to appreciate her past as well as the present. She may even realize which decisions were right and which were wrong. And, all in all, she will discover that all those “What if…?” moments where she chose one route out of the many available have created the woman she has become.
So explore your “What if…?” with an open heart, soul, and mind. You just might learn something about yourself and you just might grow from the experience. If nothing else, if you’re a writer, you just might find the inspiration you need to write your next project.
What if…?
This week Christina Katz talked about self-producing in The Prosperous Writer.
Her idea seems to center around the idea that we have to create our own careers. I believe this is true in many ways. As a writer I know the only way I have “product” is if I create it. I must write the words to create the sentences that become the paragraphs that form the story I’m telling.
There are days when I must remind myself I’m in charge of my career. When rejections outnumber acceptances, it can be hard to hold on to the idea that I make my career. It is in my hands. It’s hard to feel in charge of one’s career when someone else’s subjectivity plays a large role in one’s success or failure. I try to remember to read comments given on my work with an open mind and make changes I feel are warranted. I also make it a rule to keep submitting my work. Right now I’m very behind on my submission goals for 2010 due to personal circumstances, but I’m working to correct that. Unsubmitted work will never be accepted, so submissions are key to success as a writer.
Writing a poem, short story, essay, article, or book always reminds me that I’m in charge of my career. When I have moments of doubt about my ability to self-produce my career, I write and/or make another submission.
I create opportunities for myself and I evaluate opportunities that come my way. I take ones that I feel will benefit me in some way. More often than not, I find that if nothing else I learn from an experience even if I don’t find it particularly beneficial to my career. And, learning is always positive.
So, now, I think I’ll go self-produce for a while.
I’ve posted my Author’s Forum interview on You Tube. Please check it out. There are four segments to the interview.
We discussed my novel, All She Ever Wanted, the writing process, and my essay, The Gift of You, in the book, Be the Star You Are! for Teens. I also read a poem.
Enjoy!