Checking in

I'm not posting as often these days, but I'm hardly idle. I have been transcribing a lot of my journal entries for the last couple of years (pen and spiral notebook are the only way to do creative first drafts, as far as I'm concerned). Not all of them, just the ones (that I'm willing to share) that form the back-story to my sabbatical year. I'm hoping to take these notes as well as my blog postings here and make a book. I keep reading about how all these people have ditched jobs that just weren't right for them and found something much better, often after taking some time off, but the details of the time off and the whole process are less than sparse. Well, I want to chronicle what it's like to go into this adventure, boring/anxious parts and all, and what happens after the year is over. Obviously, I can't finish this project until I have actually lived it, but I think there's enough material here for a fairly decent book.

I have also sent in a couple of short stories and a poem to see if I can get them published. Just small literary journals for now, but if I can get some publications on my track record, I'm hoping for bigger and better things. Duotrope has been a big help in locating suitable venues and keeping track of where I'm submitting what. Also, I found out that there is a self-publishing site called BookBaby where you can get your e-books out into the world. Several of the local musicians I follow have been using CDBaby (which is affiliated), so I'm going to have to check out this BookBaby thing. Leave me a comment if you've had any experience with them.

Doing What I Can

Being calm when you're becalmed is a peaceful thing, but eventually, the urge to move sets in. You set your oars into the water, and you begin to row. I don't have a lot to talk about this week, except that I have submitted a couple of short stories for publication, and I have a prose poem just about ready to go. (One really wonderful metaphor that I'm reluctant to cut makes the line go "thunk". Gotta find some way around that.)

It doesn't help that we are in the middle of a major heat wave. Long walks are hellish rather than inspirational when the weather is like this. But this, too, shall pass.

I'm also going through my previous posts, comments, notes and things that didn't make it into the blog, and putting it all together for the book I hope to make of this. When I was reading up on sabbatical years and career strategies last year, I kept seeing stories of people who quit their jobs, leaped into the void, and came out much better than before. But nobody was really talking about what happened in between. Except for Elizabeth Gilbert, who was fairly affluent and had a book advance and an international support network to take her through her "Eat, Pray, Love" year. What's it like for someone who can only be independently wealthy for a year?

Well, this is what it's like. I still don't know how things will turn out, but sending my little projects out into the world is something that I can do. Collecting my notes so that I can turn them into something bigger is something I can do. Checking in with you, gentle readers, even when I have nothing momentous to say, is something I can do. So I'm doing it.

Here's a link to "Mistral Wind", which my sister mentioned in a comment to my previous post. Just a reminder that when the wind does come, it sets the direction.

Becalmed

I'm thinking about the word "becalmed". It was a threatening word for old-time sailors, denoting endless days stranded in the middle of the ocean while food and fresh water supplies gradually ran out. In a metaphorical sense, it could be a time when life slows down because of circumstances beyond your control. If resources are running short, then it's not unreasonable to feel anxious.

Americans are taught to work hard, be productive, move forward all the time. We try everything we can to puff some air into our sails when we sense that we're not going anywhere. That's about as effective in a metaphorical sense as it would be for a literal sailor. Why aren't we calm when we're becalmed?

On this day after the summer solstice, the weather outside is unbearably hot -- not a time to go outdoors seeking adventure. The pace is slow. Wiser souls have already departed for cooler climates. I am dealing with it by setting up a schedule for myself that involves one small accomplishment every day. Sometimes two or three, but the goal is one.

Select one piece of writing for publication, and choose one place to submit it. Write one short piece for this blog, even though I don't have anything spectacular to report. Skim through a few science journal articles to choose something for the news feed on my website. Finish another few square inches in the needlepoint tapestry I'm making. Take out the trash.

This isn't a time for great deeds, but it's not a time to panic either. This is a time to be calm and enjoy the uneventfulness while it lasts.

The Difference This Time

I often compare this year in my life to the not-quite two years between February 1995 and December 1996. Both times, I have been essentially unemployed, with a few small freelance projects here and there. Both times, I have spent a lot of time at home by myself, sorting out the thoughts in my head, re-evaluating priorities, and asking myself "what's next?"

That's where the similarity ends, however. That earlier "sabbatical" was not by my choice -- I was caught up in a mass downsizing and stranded in a one-company town with few other employment opportunities. It had been less than two years since I was downsized out of my previous job, and I had only just started to rebuild my savings. I was living in a small town, and although I had a fair number of acquaintances, I hadn't really made any close friends.

I spent most of 1995-1996 living in fear of bankruptcy, homelessness, and becoming permanently unemployable. In November 1995, I sold my house for just enough profit to pay the real estate agent's commission, and I moved into a thin-walled apartment on the edge of town. I lived on beans and pasta, and I gained about 50 pounds. It was probably the lowest part of my life (before or since), and I never want to go through that again. In fact, one reason I put off taking my current year off for so long was my fear of repeating that experience.

Just as I was emptying out the last of my savings account, I got a job offer that included partial reimbursement for my relocation expenses. I put my moving expenses on my credit card (thankfully, I still had a card with a high credit limit), I took out a cash advance to pay my first and last month's rent and security deposit on an apartment, and I bought my first few weeks' groceries in the new place using my credit card (something I NEVER do). I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until I got my first paycheck. (Beans and pasta were out of the question until the moving van arrived with my pots and pans.) I spent the first year living very frugally while I paid off my credit card as fast as I possibly could.

This wasn't "jumping off a cliff and building my wings on the way down", it was being pushed off the cliff and being rescued just as my belly-feathers were brushing the ground below.

This time around, I left my job voluntarily. I had been living within my means for about 15 years, and well within my means for about 6 of those years, so I had enough saved up to cover my expenses very comfortably for just over a year, and I have emergency funds to take me beyond that if necessary. (Bye-bye, kitchen remodeling.) I have been living in the same town for 13 years, and I have a wide and varied network of friends and acquaintances. Washington DC is home to think tanks, professional associations, and of course, the federal government. Science writing jobs, although not abundant in today's economy, are more plentiful here than probably anywhere else in the US.

All of those things give me a sense of security about my future that I didn't have before. But it goes beyond that. My previous experience, although painful, taught me about the things I can do when I really need to. I have a faith that is not entirely based on objective evidence that things will turn out all right this time. I do get frustrated when I go through a few weeks without any sense of direction or inspiration, but then something always happens to get me going again.

I still don't know how all this is going to turn out. I do believe that it's going to be all right this time. This time, I'm not standing at end of the plank, but rather a launch pad.

RIP, Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury, whom I quote at the top of this blog, has departed this plane of existence. I like that quote, not only for what it says, but because Mr. Bradbury is one of those who "made it" as a fiction writer.

“People say, ‘Are you a fantasy writer?’ No,” Mr. Bradbury told the Charlotte Observer in 1997. “‘Are you a science fiction writer?’ No. I’m a magician.”

(I got that quote from a well-written obit in today's Washington Post.)

Writing confers a kind of immortality on the writer. It's a way of leaving your mark on the world. I guess that's why I do it.

End of the Lull

Last week, things felt oddly quiet. Not so, this week. It almost felt like being back at work, juggling several tasks, some with deadlines. A brief blip, or a sign of things to come? It doesn't matter, it just felt good to pick up the pace a little.

My sister has taken on my professional website as a class project, and her updated, redesigned efforts are in an entirely different league from my current website (which I patched together from a very basic template). If you would like to see the "before" picture, go to The Wordchemist. Linda and I live almost 3000 miles apart, so we collaborated via email and IM across three time zones. Both of us got a useful review on being clear and specific in our communication with each other. Over the space of a couple of weeks, the website evolved from "nebulous concept" to "this looks really good!"

The new design is being critiqued by others in my sister's class this week, and it will go live after we tie up a few loose ends. The new website includes a science blog, which serves as a prod to get me back into writing professional-caliber pieces on a regular basis.

A couple of my former co-workers from the American Chemical Society still freelance for the ACS website. I'm filling in for one of them while he is on vacation. This week, I got my first assignment. It wasn't difficult, but I had to make sure that I could log in, and I had to make sure that the template they provided worked with OpenOffice. Other than those two rather low hurdles, I got back into the swing of things rather easily. We will see how the next couple of weeks go.

The usual domestic chores, bill paying, journaling and reflection sessions, yoga classes, discussion group, and a half-day science policy symposium (plus downtown commute) added up to make a week that was eventful, but not overwhelming.

Shoe Shopping in the Eye of the Storm

The last couple of weeks have felt very quiet. No major insights gained, no sense of progress, just life going on as usual. My over-achiever self is getting impatient: "Shouldn't you be signing up for more things, writing more pages in your journal, going on longer walks -- something? anything? You shouldn't wait until December to start making plans for after your sabbatical!"

Some time ago, my yoga teacher spoke about the uneventful times as being like the eye of a hurricane. All the craziness subsides for a while, but you know that it will start up again soon. The eye of the hurricane is a short respite where you can check on things and make sure that everything is well secured. You can check in on the people you love, and then sit back and enjoy the unearthly calm. When the winds start to blow again, you will be ready. That pretty much describes my current state. I'm doing what I can do, and I know that the pace will pick up again, but right now, I don't feel any particular need to stir things up unnecessarily (except for the over-achiever part of me, of course).

Looking at my calendar, I see that my life hasn't been entirely devoid of events. My twice-monthly discussion group had a very deep, insightful session. I went with a friend to see a fascinating documentary film and panel discussion on how our night skies are becoming progressively brighter and less starry. Afterward, our discussion of what we learned about eco-friendly outdoor lighting prompted me to write to my condo manager and post a summary on my various forms of social media. I had a review session with my investment adviser. My sister and I are working on a major update to my website. I got all new windows installed in my condo, which required me to take down all my blinds and valances -- and put them back up again afterward. I'm signed up for a half-day science policy workshop this coming Monday. That's all in addition to my twice-weekly yoga classes, daily domestic chores, journaling, walking, and reading. Oh yes, I also went to see "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel".

One of the things I'm reading is Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. She and I are very different people, but I am learning a lot from her account of her renewal year. She wrote at length about letting go of anger at things past, rejecting the prepackaged lifestyle that was eroding her personal integrity, and finding quiet at her own center. Her journey of discovery was far more adventurous than mine -- I still have my home, and I'm not getting off the plane in a country where I don't speak the language with no idea of where I am going to sleep that night. On the other hand, I don't have a book advance and a lifetime of foreign travel experience, so she did have some advantages. Still and all, I share the desire to escape the life that I'm "supposed" to be leading and find my own voice.

I never saw the movie, but I've been reading some of the reviews. The harshest criticism comes from people who think that this was an exercise in self-indulgence, an abandonment of a richly blessed lifestyle, and a sudden betrayal of a loving husband. Some people seem to think that taking more than a day or two away from your work for quiet reflection and self discovery is morally suspect. When life has handed you everything that you're supposed to want, how dare you say that you want something else -- especially when you can't quite put your finger on what that something else is?

Maybe there really are people in the world who are truly satisfied with all the default settings. All the beliefs that were handed down to them, all the expectations that go along with their predetermined place in society, all the people in their immediate neighborhood -- all these things fit them so well that they have no need to stop and question who they really are and what they are really meant to be doing. For most of the people I know, at least some parts of their prepackaged life chafe them like badly fitting shoes. Some people steadfastly endure the blisters and corns. Some people cushion the parts that fit the worst. Some people go out and look for "life shoes" that actually fit.