I hope that your 2018 is a year full of blessings,
dreams fulfilled,
courage,
and peace!
~ Ramona
Merry Christmas
Christmas Cards and Letters
I am sitting at the dining room table when I hear a scraping sound, the metal door of my mailbox lifting, and the plop of mail as it falls inside the hall closet.
For the rest of this week, I will look forward to this sound because Continue reading
Retreat
I’m back from a writing retreat, one that I scheduled and planned at a cottage near Lake Michigan. I spent the first day alone and then a friend who is also a writer joined me for the remainder; she is working on her book and an amazing project.
Writing has been hard the last few months. In August, my family learned that my mother’s illness was serious; she was very sick. Thirty days later, she passed on.
I cannot find the right words to tell you more about her at this time, other than to say I love her and I am so grateful to have been blessed with her as my mother and guide. I had no concept that grief would be so heavy, numbing, and unpredictable, but since her passing, I am learning more about the impact of loss than I knew before, even though I have gone through other challenges. At the beginning, grief caused me to switch between two impulses—a total retreat, into myself, to deal with the hurt; and a persistent urge to open my front door, and walk and walk and walk, until I arrived…somewhere.
I felt my mother’s presence over the last few days, encouraging me, happy that I had found yet another place to visit, wanting to hear the details of how the cottage looked, how the rooms were arranged, if it was near water.
Alone at the dining room table, I began to write and feel happiness creep back into my life. I slept well, full of words and ideas for future writing. When it was time to leave and close the door to the cottage, I felt like I could walk through another door. One where I could grieve my loss and yet be happy, retreat for healing and come back renewed.
Thoughts on Friendship and the novel The Hate U Give
I finished The Hate U Give, written by Angie Thomas, two days ago and I am still mulling over the many themes in this novel. The protagonist, Starr Carter, spends her days in two worlds, the poor neighborhood she calls home and the suburban high school she attends. Her life, already full of challenges by the time she is 16, is upended when she witnesses the murder of her best friend.
I immersed myself into her world and its characters and I did not want to leave until I was done. The conflicts Starr must face, internal and external, forced me to consider my experiences attending predominately white schools and my role in social justice activism.
There are many themes here but the one I want to focus on is central to The Hate U Give; it is friendship. On page 265, Starr talks to her mother about a friendship that has gone awry. I know the page number because this was the one page I bookmarked right away so that I could come back to it. Starr ponders her mother’s advice and the friend with whom she is at odds, and asks herself, “Our friendship is based on memories. What do we have now?”
That question stood out because I have wondered if memories are really enough to sustain a relationship, at least a close one. When I think of my deepest relationships outside of my family, there are some similarities. Some began because we went to the same school, church, or worked at the same company. One might say proximity played a role because the relationships began because we saw each other often, almost daily, if you think of school or work, and we got to know one another. But it takes more than proximity to become friends. I’ve always been a little amused by people who think that someone they work with is a friend just because they see them in the office every day. It reminds me of a story a friend told me a long time ago; there was someone he often shared a ride with but he later realized that they were not really close, they were simply going in the same direction.
If being in the same place does not make us friends, then what does? I believe shared experiences, an open heart, and a willingness to learn from each other are essential to becoming friends. I might connect with someone right away because I like something about him or her, but attraction is not friendship, or at least it might not be.
My deepest friendships have generally been a surprise; I seldom saw it coming at the first meeting. It is like a gumbo or a stew. In the beginning it seems to be a collection of ingredients, a mishmash of conversations, events, and revelations, with the occasional misunderstanding that needs to be sorted out. Only over time does the flavor deepen, getting richer and more nuanced as we let things warm up.
The murder of Starr’s friend makes her question what it means to be a friend, to be loyal, and to stand up for what you believe. Starr has a big decision to make—retreat and be silent about what she knows, or open her mouth and speak the truth despite the inevitable negative consequences and challenges to her safety and relationships. I have had one or two friendships made closer by how someone supported me in a difficult situation, but not all have required that for me to know that the friendship was special. Very often, it was because of experiences, now memories, which we share.
In the most longstanding friendships, we not only have the old memories to go back to, but we create new ones by going through life together, or talking about what we are going through—the good, the bad, and the crazy. A memory may not be enough to sustain a friendship that has gone sour, but it can be the roux in the pot that holds it together when we cannot see each other as often as we’d like.
This book made the 2017 National Book Award Longlist and is a New York Times bestseller. I hope you’ll read The Hate U Give, consider what it says about social justice and friendship, and share it with others. It’s a YA (young adult) novel, which might cause some to pass over it. Don’t—the writing is excellent and Thomas tells a great story full of characters you will recognize, if your world is as open as it could be. If not, then read it to understand another side to the many issues which are being debated and legislated these days.
Ritual – Put the Keys in the Chrysler
My father has always purchased Chryslers. I remember the green Plymouth Fury III that he drove to my friend’s house one afternoon to pick me up; it was not our first car but I loved the surprise of him showing up in a new one. Later there was a light blue gray Chrysler that he drove on his carpool days when I was in high school. For a few weeks until he got it repaired, the horn used to randomly sound off if he turned the steering wheel a certain way. The intermittent honks and beeps could have been embarrassing but I ignored my friends’ quizzical looks and acted as if it was the nervous tic of a car overly stimulated by chatty teenage girls. Continue reading
Thanks for Waiting…
I took the month of August off from blogging and look forward to starting again next week. A little time away, with frequent walks and reflection, made for a fresh look at life and writing.
For those with family and friends in Texas and Louisiana, please know that many of us are trying to help in our own way. I am making a monetary gift to an organization that I believe can help faster than donating items. You are in my prayers.
Picture taken at Fernwood Botanical Garden
Summer Hiatus
Hasn’t this summer been beautiful? It occurred to me that while some say it is half over, I still have several weeks to enjoy this season. I am going to take August off from blogging, and devote more time to my other writing and getting to the stack of books I want to read.
I’ll return after Labor Day, refreshed and ready to start the new (school) year. I’m not enrolled in school but August has always been my favorite planning season and feels like nearly back-to-school time for me.
Savor summer; I don’t want to hear any fussing about how much you miss it once winter rolls in.
Ramona
Working and Writing from Home – Five Easy Rules
You are not likely to find me writing in a coffee shop. I don’t drink much coffee and I need quiet to write. That rules out most Starbucks. And I will occasionally drink a coffee from Dunkin Donuts, but could never work there. That is where the sour cream donuts live and they often boss me around, telling me that I will be okay with just one. So I usually grab the coffee and run out, trying to ignore the donuts whispering at me from the case.
There is Le Pain Quotidien, my favorite spot. I can work there. Scribbling revision notes at the table, warm mug in hand, looking out the window to see the passersby, glancing around the room to make sure that the lunch crowd is not heading in, making me feel like I need to give up my table. And the food, organic and artfully presented, makes me believe that if I order, at least I’m doing my body good.
But the best place for me to work is at home, alone, in my office, perhaps with the TV or radio tuned to a classical music station. No jazz or lyrics, I am easily distracted.
Friends often ask me how I work from home, without anyone to talk to in the next cubicle, and with all the undone chores in plain sight.
It is easy. I follow the advice of my brother, who gave me Rule 1. He mastered the art of the home office decades ago.
Rule 1 – Don’t do anything during your at-home workday that you would not do if you were in the office. This means that I seldom do chores during the day, unless it is tossing in a load first thing in the morning, or washing my dishes right after lunch. You wouldn’t bring your cute lace undies to work and fold them on your desk, so don’t do that during the work part of your day if you’re supposed to be writing or working.
Rule 2 – Get dressed. Yes, I know that I may not see anyone except for the mailman, or a neighbor walking a dog, but I dress for myself. And unless I am taking a walk during a break to revise in my head, I avoid workout clothes, at least making an effort to put on a nice tee with comfy pants or a skirt, or occasionally a dress, just because I love dresses. I can guarantee that if I am sitting in a robe (or housecoat – now there’s a lovely 1950s word) at 11 a.m., one of two things will happen. I will get a call to meet a friend for a quick chat and be unprepared, or I will feel slightly sloppy until I am properly dressed.
Rule 3 – Have a game plan. The night before, I review my goals for the next day, so I don’t waste the first few hours of the day flitting around, trying to figure out what to write, read, who to call, or what I need to do to move forward on a project. If I know where to start I can at least get going, and that helps me be more productive during the day.
Rule 4 – Allow for breaks and serendipity. See rules 2 and 3. Sometimes I choose to revise while doing yard work, and I don’t feel bad about it. Or a friend who has an office job calls to see if I can get free for an hour. If it doesn’t completely throw off my schedule, I say “Yes,” (because I am already dressed and ready to go) and get on with my day after I’ve had a chance to connect.
Rule 5 – Learn your own rhythm. (Rhythm is a hard word to spell; I always want to add an “n” in there, making it something like hymn) Get to know your peak periods and when you seem to drag. Take breaks to move or get outside. And avoid the cookies. They are not your friends. Not if you eat them every day, every break.
I could probably go on but these are the five rules that have helped me, and I have worked from home more often than not over the last 20 years. If you have any great tips, please share them; they might help someone else get the rhythm of this thing.
Family Stories from the Attic-Interview
Christi Craig interviewed me about my essay, Without Words, which is in the anthology, Family Stories from the Attic. I’d like to share this brief interview; you can find it here. It is part of a series on the authors included in the book and there are many fascinating stories on what led people to write about family. Thanks for reading it!
Ramona M. Payne 