Tag: womanhood

Conference Notes: Kick Start Your Writing in 2013

Terah Van DusenLeave a comment

“Kick Start Your Writing in 2013” presented at Making it in Changing Times by Polly Campbell a.k.a ‘the guru’ (that’s what I’ve dubbed Polly due to her amazing zen-like approach to the writing process!)

“The energy a writer creates actually changes the world, in a small way, but yes.” – Polly Campbell

 

3-Part Writing Process:

 

The Passion:

  • Passion is the thing that gets you moving
  • In this stage, there is no mastery–and that’s OK
  • This piece must be present!

 

The Plan:

  • Create a damn LIFESTYLE of writing
  • Specific actions such as:
    -I will write one page per day
    -I will write in the morning
    -I will network once per day
  • You’ll always get an outcome if you have specific actions!

 
The Persistence:

  • Area wherein the failures and challenges rear their ugly heads
  • You’ve got to get over the humps!
  • This section looks like this:
    -25 query letters to the same guy
    -Cold calling
    -Public speaking
  • Persistence is the only way it happens

 

Powerful Polly Campbell Quotes to Live By:

“Everything is not going to just work out for you. It never does, that just isn’t how life is.” (Tell me about it.)

“Go for good, not great.”

“Ask yourself questions. Then search for the answers.”

“Watch the language you use with yourself. Keep it positive!”

 

 

Walking With Our Love Woes

Terah Van Dusen5 Comments

We all have our love woes
They come in their own unique
shapes and sizes
Often lopsided
Old married couples have big love woes that
make for strong foundations
Things to fall back on
Like joint accounts
and children
Things that make people say ‘oh what the hell’
and stay
Young couples have little
love woes that they pick at until
they bleed
and when they dry they
pick at them again
I let you guess which love woe
I have
I’m walking with my love woes
who put this day in winter?
We bundle up, our faces sadder than ever
and everyone I see
is walking alone

Blue–An Unexpected Love Poem

Terah Van Dusen3 Comments

I thought I had it all figured out
Thought that I had no doubt
I thought I knew black from blue
Thought I knew me from you
I thought I had you to choose
Thought I had nothin’ to lose
I thought I had something to offer
Thought why should I bother
I thought I had a future
without you
Now I’m not so sure
that I do
Blue

Making it in Changing Times Conference Notes

Terah Van Dusen12 Comments

I made my way up to Portland (soon I won’t have to travel so far, yay!) on January 26th for a writers conference, Making it in Changing Times.

Lidia Yuknavitch was the keynote speaker and the event was organized by Jessica Morrell author of Writing Out The Storm, a book Lidia held close to her chest and kept on her bedstand during the FIRST days, weeks, and months of her writing career. She credits the book for motivating her to write. Jessica Morrell is to Lidia what Natalie Goldberg is to me.

The event was SPECTACULAR. I was high the entire time. On writing, folks, on writing. During the session I thought of you guys: my blogging community. My writing tribe. My stranger-angels.

I took notes of course, with the intent of sharing them on my blog. With you. Because you are where I am–scratching and clawing your way into the writing world. Some of you are further along than others. For some of you this information will be premature, for others it will be old news. But I hope for at least one of you, it is just perfect useful.

Over the next few days, I will post 4 conference “notes”:

1. “An Editor’s Wishlist” by Jessica Morrell
2. “Kick Start Your Writing in 2013” by Polly Campell
3. “The Worth of Risk” by Lidia Yuknavitch
4. “Signs You’re Telling Not Showing” by Jessica Morrell

Do you know these authors? What books, conferences, and authors have inspired you? Please share your thoughts, we’re all in this together. I’ve never heard of an artist being “over inspired”, have you? For me, I can’t get enough inspiration. But like love, the timing has to be just right…if you don’t get anything from these notes right off–come back. It’s good stuff.

Neurotic Fan Part II–Am I Invisible?

Terah Van Dusen4 Comments

I shuffle upstairs in my long black kimono, the show starting soon.

I go to the bathroom to piss out my beer and stand in line, nobody talking to me and me talking to nobody. I think of what a little city Eugene is. People say it’s a real friendly city. I’m not entirely convinced. I remember bathrooms down on the border of Mexico and how they came practically stocked with cocaine and how that really brought the women together, really opened up the lines of communication, har har.

Eugene needs more drugs, for sure. Women here care about health and spirituality and jogging. Fucking. Jogging.

I emerge from the bathroom stall and am the only person left. Good. I wash my hands and check myself out in the mirror, remembering the young girl who didn’t check my ID. Bitch.

Then I hear a stall door open and close. And though I didn’t know it yet– I hear the sigh of Chelsea Cain’s pre-show nervousness or boredom, I don’t know, but it was a sigh…a famous-author-sigh and Famous. Authors. Are. People. Too.

“Oh. Hi!”

I perk right up as Chelsea Cain emerges in her pink lipstick, short nighty and fuzzy bunny slippers.

“Hi!” She smiles her bright, gorgeous smile.

“I like your nightgown. Very vintage.” I smile back. Again.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Well, have fun!” I wave while leaving the bathroom.

I look for Lidia but she’s hiding (she does that) and I think, gosh, I hope Chelsea knows I know who she is. All I did was talk about her clothes. I could’ve mentioned her books.

But the truth is, I hadn’t yet read her. But I liked her–just for being her–she was perky and charismatic, I knew that. A week later I would read her memoir Dharma Girl, which wasn’t a struggle, not at all, it was very well-written and introspective but lacking a little spice and danger.

Reading Dharma Girl after reading The Chronology of Water reminded me of when I replaced methamphetamine with cocaine (we’re talking daily use here). So mellow it was hardly even potent. But it’s all relative–if I did cocaine now I’d be swimming the clouds. Back-strokes n’ shit.

I’m sure, no I’m certain Chelsea Cain’s murder mystery shit is potent as hell.

So I look for Lidia and she’s still nowhere to be found. I get in line for a stuffed animal and I’m the only one there and there’s an empty box behind the deserted foldy-table.

Oh well.

I join the fifty-thousand fucking horny college kids with their iPhones and now their huge cheetah and lion stuffed animals that they’re literally making hump eachother.

I sit on the floor cross-legged with my faint close-lipped smile that says I’m approachable and someone elbows me in the mouth and a round girl in front of me scootches back to make room for her friend, a sexy blonde in a black kimono and they snap a picture together and they’re so close I could lick the backs of their heads. I shift uncomfortably and think Am I invisible? Like, really. No, seriously..am I invisible?

Neurotic Fan Part I

Terah Van Dusen4 Comments

I missed out on the free stuffed animal cause I wanted a beer and the line for beer was zilch and the line for a free stuffed animal was around the block and down the hall.

I was disappointed.

I thought I was part of a bite-size group of people and after the show we’d all sit around in someone’s cramped apartment drinking straight whiskey and maybe doing a little coke.

I thought I’d get to talk up my book and maybe Chuck Palahniuk and Lidia would ask me to join their writers’ group.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve got no experience–all that matters is you’ve passion, and you do, I can see it in you they’d say as I’d shoot back the whiskey hollering Fuck yeah I do! sticking out my tongue and shaking my head back and forth. We’d all cheer and laugh. There aren’t enough writers out there, Chuck would tell me.

I thought I’d be the only girl in a black kimono and that Lidia might point me out to the audience, telling everyone what a good writer I was and some hot guy would spot me and think I was super sexy. Then he’d approach me and we’d fall in love and we’d both be writers and we’d make writer love.

It didn’t matter that I was already in love, and with a writer. Things could always get better.

You already know how this ends: in near full disappointment.

After standing in line with fifty-billion fucking college kids watching them text and say Like and grab eachother’s asses we filed inside where I slipped away to the WOW Hall’s basement bar missing my chance at a free stuffed animal (free to the first 100 people).

It was so quiet down there the bartender had her back to me and was on her knees stocking the cooler. I cleared my throat, ordered a Sierra Nevada, and sat in the corner and read Dora.

I knew Lidia was upstairs signing books for all the, like, college kids and I tried to summon her downstairs with my mind. Cause down in the dark basement bar was where Lidia should be. And, you know if it were twenty years ago it’s where she woulda been. But it wasn’t twenty years ago.

That was a long time ago.

What is a Dream?

Terah Van Dusen5 Comments

You know those dreams you’ve had in life that you’ll never forget? I’m not talking about waking dreams (for once), I’m talking about sleeping dreams. For example, when I was about four years old I had a dream my dad picked me up in a hot air balloon and took me to Safeway to so we could buy some dream-mirror-dreams-can-come-true-31082814-900-900ABC soup, which was my favorite meal. Not much happened other than that but for some reason I’ve always remembered that particular dream. But why?

Then there are the recurring dreams–again, when I was just four years old, I’d say from four to six–which was actually a pretty traumatic point in my life–I would have this dream:

I’m in a dark dungeon. I’m lying on my back or my side and there are about five or six little elves running around and climbing all over my body. Above my head is a big roll of lead. Let me explain more: you remember Bubble Tape? They always had Bubble Tape on the rack at the grocery store at the check out stand. It’s like a carpenter’s measuring tape only made out of bubble gum. Yeah. That. So that’s what this big roll of lead is like. The little elves pry my big toddler mouth open, much to my resistance, and insert the end of the roll of lead into my mouth, shoving the lead down my throat. My throat expands and I choke but this goes on for what feels like hours and upon waking faintly taste lead in my mouth, metal in my throat.

I had this dream at least a few times throughout my childhood. I can’t help but notice–now I’m having a dream quite the opposite.

I had one just last night:dreaming-quotes-034

Sometimes it’s just me but sometimes, like last night, I’ll have an audience:

I’m back in Crescent City at a party and a lot of my friends are there–all grown up, having a good time, drinking beer by the river. I’m chatting with one of my male friends when I feel a noodle in my mouth. The flat kind–linguine. I put my index finger up to indicate “just a moment”, a break in the conversation if-you-will and reach into my mouth for the linguine. I grab hold of the linguine and tug. Well, that’s where my dream morphs into this recurring dream I’ve been having: pulling a never-ending mountain of noodles from my throat. The more I tug, the more I pull, the more noodles emerge. And just like in the lead dream–I can hardly breathe. My cousin Cevin and his friends approach and there I am, crouched down by a cedar tree, pulling out and vomiting up noodles, for what seems like forever.

What I appreciate about this new dream is this: it’s quite the opposite of my baby-Terah-lead-dream. Clearly, I’m letting it all out now instead of shoving it all in. For fun, I’ll retrieve my dream dictionary, The Complete Book of Dreams & Dreaming by Pamela Ball and interpret some of the imagery from both of these dreams:

Dwarf (sadly Elf was not available): A dwarf indicates a part of our personality which has not yet been integrated or has been left undeveloped. In a dream a dwarf denotes a part of ourselves which has been left damaged by painful childhood trauma or a lack of emotional nourishment.

art-lipstick-mouth-photography-teeth-Favim.com-349102Lead: The conventional explanation of lead appearing in a dream is that we have a situation around us which is a burden to us. We are not coping with life perhaps as we should be, and as a result it is leaving us heavy-hearted.

Throat: Dreaming of the throat denotes awareness of our vulnerability and also the need for self-expression.

Vomiting: Vomiting is a symbol of discharge and evil. We may have held on to bad feelings for so long that it has caused our spiritual system some difficulty.

I do believe there are connections between our dreams and our spiritual selves. I do believe that if you have, especially a recurring dream, you should pay attention to it and make changes to your life as needed. For example, if you are a man and you dream about a particular woman most nights, you need to explore your relationship with this woman. Or, if you dream about water, water, water, you should visit a spring or a sea–because your subconscious is begging for you to wet her.

Please, readers, share some of your dreams with me. I would love to use my dream book to provide you a little more insight into your subconscious. If you’re into that kind of thing.

Nighty-night. Sweet dreams.

It’s a Serious Life

Terah Van Dusen6 Comments

I don’t know where I’m going
but I know exactly where I’m goin’

The nights are long and
that’s when I drive
even late afternoon is night these days.
I can see only the ground which
the headlights cover.
I just hope for the best
with the rest.

Most my truths come out
at night.
In the day my
truths hide behind
trees and buildings and
large people.
Only the children can see them
with their eyes wide open
their selves not afraid

I hope with all my heart that
any path I choose is right.
But I know that is wrong.
What I mean is, I know that
isn’t true.
I’ve seen enough
sad stories to know there’s
no “all part of a bigger plan”

WE ACT
AND THERE ARE
CONSEQUENCES

So, you’re saying she was suppose to
die an alcoholic who felt like her
children didn’t love her

So, you’re saying the woman who
cannot conceive really isn’t meant
to be a mother
The woman with the nursery
and the money
and the heart
and the warmth

So, you’re saying he was
destined to die on his way
to his wedding

So, you’re saying 26 children
dying is all part of the plan?

Fuck you.

We act and there are consequences

WE ACT
AND THERE ARE
CONSEQUENCES

People who claim it’s all
god’s will must’ve had their
asses wiped and their lunches packed

This is why I take my life so seriously.
One wrong move and
BAM
You end up where you
didn’t want to be.
Should’ve been drivin’ your own
train buddy, shoulda been in the
driver’s seat

Arizona

Terah Van Dusen6 Comments

Up at the house on the Winchuck River one night it was decided I’d be moving with Peggy to Arizona. We’d leave in two weeks. I told my Dad over the phone and he sounded a bit wounded but he assured me it would only be temporary until he and Lisa found a house. I’m not leaving you. You left me. Remember that, Dad I thought but didn’t say.

Peggy and I went down to the DHS office in Crescent City, met with a social worker named Pam, signed a couple papers and it was a done deal. There was no inspecting Peggy’s house, calling references, or privately interviewing me. You just looked at Peggy and knew she was the real deal. There was virtually nothing wrong with her. She was my perfect temporary guardian. She was my perfect permanent guardian but nobody wanted to go there yet. And I mean nobody. Not Peggy nor me. They talked like it would just be for the school year, but Arizona was hundreds if not thousands of miles away and as soon as we headed south I knew, I just knew the miles were coming between me and my old life. And a good part of me was really, really happy about that. The other part tried to remember landmarks for my runaway escape. Ch-yeah, ’cause that had gone so well the first time..

After a couple days of driving we ended up in Arizona. Peggy recalls what I said when we got there: “Where’s the water? No, seriously, where’s the water?” I found out the water came from faucets and deep underground, not pouring from the mountains like it did back home. We stopped off at an outlet mall outside of Phoenix and Peggy bought me some Levi’s, t-shirts, and a couple of new bras. We drove for another five hours south and finally ended up in what looked like the middle of nowhere. You could look in every direction, north, east, south, west but there was nothing there, just the horizon. We ended up in Sunsites, Arizona. Peggy owned a funny-looking little eggshell-colored house on Geneva Street. Geneva Street had a ton of funny-looking little eggshell-colored houses that Peggy called “stucco”. Stucco was this certain texture the paint had. The houses were boxy and had red-tiled roofs. Don’t get me wrong, they were nice.

School would start in three days. I would be taking the school bus to another town (El-fucking-Frida), where the high school was. Sunsites was initially supposed to be a retirement-only community but they ultimately couldn’t afford to keep the young folk out so it was ninety-percent retirement and ten-percent everything else. There was a ghost town a mile away. The nearest grocery store was thirty miles north. There was no mayor. There was a golf course which was a big deal. Tombstone was over a hill to the west and Mexico was forty minutes south.

You Can’t Tame A Wild Thing

Terah Van Dusen4 Comments

To the east is wild. But to the west is even wilder. Always.
Nothing is more wild than the ocean, to me.
When I was young I had a birthday party at the beach and the sun went down and the tide came in and we while we all ran around the bon fire, the waves crashed in and took with it all of the birthday presents the kids had brought. Nice gifts, from their parents. I remember Tommy’s mom who was a beautician gave me a little fancy bag full of three or four bottles of nail polish. Blue and green and purple cause that’s what was in.
I remember I’d finally gotten that certain jacket I’d wanted–but the big bon fire was so hot in the sand and we were all running around, caught between kids and teenagers and I didn’t put the jacket on I just wore my striped long sleeve shirt. Us kids played back then. 
A boy who thought he was my boyfriend (I guess I was leading him on) took me to a big log drift wood and kissed me on the lips.
Happy Birthday.
No thanks.
Cara and I wrestled in the waves and got so rowdy that I ripped her earring out–or she ripped mine out, I cannot recall. Someone bled and we laughed.

~~~

Someday I’ll really be out there. I’ll travel as far out into the wild ocean as my birthday presents did that year. It’ll be me and the insane stark white and teal waves and the whales and the dolphins and the diamonds on the water–all the diamonds–and the sunset and west, west and more west.
It’ll be me and my memories.
I’ll let them go out there. I’ll free them.
One by one I’ll drop them over the edge like excess baggage that my ship can no longer stand to carry.
My liberated soul the only anchor I’ll need.
Onward toward the rest of my life as a woman. Onward to my Womanhood, letting go, knowing that dry land and home awaits me. Solid land to the east. My home awaits me. Letting go into the ocean. Being in the wild. Letting go of the weight, the abuse the neglect like wet clothing like lead like city like smog like ego like pride like fear.
I’ll let let it go alright. Out in the waves.
But not until I finish this flipping book.
I need an ending to my story.
And then
I will go
and let go
for good.