Shall We Try This Again?:Day 2 with Susan Wooldridge at ArtFest

When I originally registered for ArtFest I didn't sign up for Susan Wooldridge's second workshop.  I thought I needed variety.  But a few weeks later I had an "aha" moment.  If the woman I've admired for so long was teaching two workshops why would I not take both?  After a few e-mail exchanges with Teesha Moore I was moved to Susan's Crazy Love Poems workshop on Friday.  The only problem was when I arrived at ArtFest I wasn't in Susan's Friday class.  I was in the class I originally registered for.  I hadn't been moved.  In error, Teesha failed to move me.  But I had to go to Susan's second workshop because 1) I didn't bring supplies for the other class and 2) well, I just HAD to.  So Friday morning, in spite of having one of the most intense days of my life the day before (including making myself sick) and actually not being officially registered for the class, I showed up anyway.  I worried about being there even though Teesha said it would be fine since it was her oversight.  But still, I'm too much of a good girl.  I like to play by the rules and not cause any trouble.  As soon as I arrived at the class I told Susan I didn't think Teesha had moved me as requested and I was worried about being there but Susan said she didn't care because she believed I needed to be there.  Things were happening that needed to happen and she thought her class was exactly where I needed to be.  And that's exactly how I felt too.

I woke up Friday morning in a totally different head space than the day before.  I felt so much more "in" myself.  I felt more connected, more at peace, more joyful, more alive and energetic.  And I was itching to write.  I could barely pay attention to Susan's introduction because words were bubbling in my head.  I was so ready to write and see what spilled out.  The class began just as the previous day's class did--with the body prayers, the new version of the Lord's prayer, and the Yahweh exercise.  This time I was actually in my body.  I was less self-conscious and better able to flow through the movements.  I was so much more connected to myself, especially my body, than I had been the day before.  So we were off to a good start.  I didn't even cry during the Lord's prayer.

The class still began with "stealing" words, the word pool, prompts, word tickets, and postcards just as it had the previous workshop but this time the exercise and the prompts focused on love and how love can sometimes get twisted into something it was never supposed to be, something we no longer recognize as love, and about how what love really is can often get lost along the way.  I don't clearly remember the first exercise.  I just remember needing to write and not being able to clearly get what I wanted on to the page because I wanted to write so badly.  There was too much energy rushing through me and I couldn't grab on to the things that were flowing through me.  I couldn't hold on to them long enough to actually write them.  But I clearly remember the second exercise.

Prior to the second exercise we were given tiny matchboxes.  We were to walk around outside and gather objects in our matchboxes that said something to us about love.  Again my words were flowing faster than I could keep up with.  Every time I picked up on object words rushed forth.  The tricky part was trying to remember them when it came time to write.  I held them in my head as best I could.  In both workshops Susan had touched some on our shadow selves and our need to accept our shadow as opposed to cutting it off or pushing it away.  While others chose to write their second poem to specific people I chose to write mine to my shadow self.  One of the suggested prompts was to write to our disowned self.  I didn't quite like the term "disowned."  I didn't feel like there was a part of me that was "disowned", it was more buried than disowned.  So I wrote to my buried self. 

As with every writing exercise, when it was complete Susan went around the room and read each person's.  Something happened when mine was read and I'm still not certain what to do with it.  As cool as it is to hear your own work read aloud I was still having a problem connecting to my words.  And my inner critic was really at work.  I recognized every place I didn't think flowed smoothly and those places where I tried too hard to use a word ticket and it just didn't work and when I couldn't find the right word and just had to pick one and when I couldn't express what I was really trying to express so just had to settle.  Sure there were some sections that I thought were good and some metaphors I liked but I didn't think it was anything fabulous.  That is why when people react strongly to my words I don't get it.  I can't see what other people see.  I'm not saying I'm a bad writer.  I know that isn't true.  It's just that I don't connect to my words like others do.  I don't think, "man that was good" or "that part really moved me" or "wow that was beautiful".  I see everything that I couldn't get right.  So when many of you compliment my writing I'm flattered but at the same time I don't get it.  I don't see what you see.  So you can imagine how weird it was for me when, after Susan finished reading my piece, it got a strong reaction from several people.  Kelly Rae was sitting to my right and I think her exact words were "Oh, my god Michelle," and another girl in the class started clapping.  Now clapping was something we were specifically asked not to do.  The class was not about praising each other's work through applause but just writing and sitting with/taking in each other's words.  I felt both terribly self-conscious and a bit confused.  I didn't think it was all that great.  It was okay but I wouldn't say it was fabulous or that I loved it.  I've been thinking about this moment off and on since it happened, trying to figure out why it felt so weird for me.  I think part of it is not knowing how to accept that kind of praise.  Another part of it is not having any deep connection to my words.  And I think another part of it is my self-doubt about my writing abilities.  Again I'm not saying I'm a bad writer but I'm not really confident in my writing skills either. 

I don't feel about anything else the way I feel about writing.  There are a lot of things I like to do, a lot of things that make me happy.  There are hobbies I enjoy that if I go awhile without them I do miss them and feel their absence.  But writing is different.  I ache to write.  I have to write.  If I don't write I'm not right with myself.  When my words aren't flowing and when I feel empty I get really, well, almost depressed because writing is so important to me and I have to have it.  Just writing something isn't enough--I want to WRITE.  All that being said and I still question myself because I have ideas of what a "real" writer is.  I "real" writer has published a book...I just have a blog.  I "real" writer writes for a living...I work in an office from 8-5.  A "real" writer has an extensive education in writing/English...mine ended almost 20 years ago with high school.  I see other people writing books, getting book proposals, etc and I guess I start thinking it means I must not be a good writer because those things aren't happening for me.

Anyway, when the day's workshop was over I couldn't seem to leave.  I stuck around for as long as I could.  I helped Susan pack her things up and get them loaded in her car and we chit-chatted about my life and writing while we did those things.  My experience with her was so amazing and so deeply moving that I just wasn't quite ready to let her go.  I wanted more...more time with here...more time to write...more of her in general.  Basically I wanted to go home and live with her.  And, more specifically, I wanted to talk about myself as a writer with her a little more extensively.  After getting everything loaded she offered to give me a ride to the dorms but I wanted to walk.  I just needed a little time to myself to soak it all in...as the infamous Seattle drizzle soaked me.

That night, after dinner, was vendor night.  Sheer craziness.  That is the best description I have.  It wasn't as large as I had envisioned which only means there were fewer booths for the same amount of people (500+) to access.  Several booths I never could get to so I gave up.  And the prices!  Ouch!  Too rich for my blood.  I was there for maybe a whole 20-30 minutes and I'd had enough. 

When I got back to my dorm room later that evening one of my roommates told me she had run into Susan on the way back from vendor night and they struck up a conversation in which my name was brought up.  My roommate said Susan suggested she ask me if she could read what I had written the past couple days...as long as I was comfortable with that.  I let her read it and she had really positive things to say about it.  There were a lot of "wow"s and "that was beautiful" and "amazing" was used a few times but again I just couldn't get it.  That next morning on my way to the bathroom I ran into this same roommate and she literally followed me into the bathroom, almost into my stall, to tell me she had thought about what I wrote all night because it had touched her so deeply and she woke up that morning still thinking about my words.  Again she gave me exactly the kind of encouragement, support, and praise one desires...if one can wrap themselves around it.  I'm just always taken off-guard by that kind of reaction.  I don't understand it.  I really struggle not to push it away or discount it and I have gotten better about just saying, "thank you."

I had forgotten about some of these events until I was talking on the phone with a friend tonight telling her about my ArtFest experience.  After our phone call I went for a walk and tossed a lot of this around again.  I want to believe I'm a fabulous writer because I want so badly to be a fabulous writer.  There are a few things I want more than that but not many.  And still when people tell me I am, when people compliment me, tell me my words touched them, and give me exactly what I want in the way of encouragement I can't seem to accept it.  I just don't quite feel my writing is good enough.  Another thing I just need to sit with and own is the fact that in two days of workshops, a total of 24+ students, and 4 writing exercises (that's 48+ pieces read by Susan) I was the only one whose work received an applause.  I didn't mention the applause because I wanted to brag.  I'm writing about it because I want to look at my reaction to it and why I can't own it and why I don't think it is amazing.  I mean shouldn't I think it's amazing?  Shouldn't I be proud of it?  Shouldn't it tell me something about my writing?  And yet it really doesn't.  Not really.  There is a little part of me that realizes how big that is (and gets excited when I think about it) but there is another REALLY BIG piece of me that doesn't feel connected to it...that doesn't recognize the recognition was for MY words.  MINE.

ps--I'm so sad the only picture I have of the two of us came out so blurry...but you can still pick up on the important stuff...the emotions...even the blurriness can't cover that up...

Comments

[Marilyn]

I understand this completely. It's why when someone leaves a lovely comment on one of my poems (someone like you perhaps) I think, "They're not even 'real' poems"...and then feel like a fraud. I always refer to them as "my so-called poems." Claiming and owning can be a very scary thing...ESPECIALLY for those of us who work in office jobs and don't have the kind of 'formal' (I detest that) education that others have...because we're not 'supposed' to 'be able' to do this. I don't mean to speak for you, too...I've just known many in similar situations and time and time again it comes down to buying into society's beliefs about the box we've found ourselves put in. Just sayin'... ;) I think 2008 is about claiming and owning for some of us. CLAIM. OWN. xoxo

[Sam]

Oh, the topsy turvy emotional landscape of it all...what I would give to be there and be a part of hearing your powerful words...(and I'm hoping you'll eventually share something of what you wrote here). As you spend time with this experience, I think you'll get to the place where you can truly own your success...in the meantime, I am excited and terribly pleased FOR you.

And Susan sounds like an angel, just a beautiful person.

[Kerstin]

Maybe the reasons why you shy away from the praise and find it difficult to accept as "truth" are the same that make you the wonderful writer that you are?

I don't know you personally, nor am I particularly "into" poetry, but I always love reading yours. I think Tanya hit it on the nail, you touch something in people, and there is an emotional rawness that many of us can relate to, yet don't know how to express ourselves.

Maybe you don't ever have to feel 100% connected to the recognition for your words; I mean, you write because you HAVE TO, not because you seek praise and affirmation. We are simply very lucky that you chose to share your words with us.

[darlene]

also ... i adore that photo ... so beautiful and joyous ...

[darlene]

i can relate to so much that you have written here with regards to how you feel about your writing. its funny because i do have that english degree and i have been published here and there and yet when i read you, i see you as more of a writer than i see myself, if that makes any sense. i also think you are incredibly brave because i would be terrified to go through the artfest experience, just thinking about it makes my hands clammy. sigh.

thank you for sharing all of this, it touches me in a way i can't explain and it brought tears to my eyes which i also can't explain. i do think that you are on your way to yourself and your writing though. i really do. xo

[tanaya]

Reading this post I stopped a few times and thought that maybe "good" isn't the proper word to describe your writing. It invokes an either-or situation, good or bad, published or not, etc.

When I read your blog posts or poetry I don't walk away thinking, "wow, she is a really good writer". I don't think about your writing at all. Instead I feel your writing. I don't "know" you, but when I read your writing, it is often like I am listening to something very deep inside of me.

You write words that make my stomach ache, because of the depth of their honesty. You say things that I feel, but that I don't talk about.

So maybe instead of accepting the label of good writer, you can allow yourself to accept the fact that your writing touches people. Because what you write, the way that you write, it helps us understand that it is okay for us to feel that way too.

[Liz]

Your on-going tales of your experiences at Art Fest are so beautiful to read, so deep and so full. Sharing what happened for you and telling the experience: amazing. I love this last piece about you and your writing. And I love the photo of you and Susan, it is somehow all the better for being fuzzy and out of focus: all the energy contained in your 2 bodies just vibrates outward. Thanks again for all your stories...

[Star]

I think your words are beautiful and honest and *you*. I also think they are refreshing because they show vulnerability and uncertainty on a personal level at a time when people (at least here in the US) are either fed up and angry or wanting to tell us how we should be living our lives.

I'm so glad you were able to spend another day with Susan. This whole experience will continue to resonate within you and influence you in all areas of your life.

[kristen]

You write from the heart sister, and that's what brings me back again and again.

I love that you tell the under-side story; that you remind that everything isn't a Kodak moment and I really appreciate that.

I get so overwhelmed with things, especially big vendor shows, it's good to know that should you and I ever find ourselves at a big event, I know who I could stand with and feel ok.

Love. xo

[Bethany]

This entry, right here, exemplifies why your writing--as unspectacular as you feel it is--is praised. It's your emotional honesty. I'm starting to realize that depth and transparency are what matter most in writing; sure, John Grisham and Tom Clancy may sell a lot of novels, but their words don't live in people's hearts. Yours do, because they're real and open and poignant.
And oh, I feel like I've been written into this entry. Everything you said about not "getting" what good others see in your work, not seeing yourself as a "real writer" because it's not your job, wanting so badly to feel like a fabulous writer... it's 100% what I've been mulling over the last week. I'm in the same boat, and you know what? Fabulous blog entries are just as important as fabulous books, and your words matter a lot to those of us who read here.

[ceanandjen]

Your recounting of your time at Artfest is really wonderful to read because it is so honest and raw...and personal. I appreciate that so much because I feel as though you are sharing this very real and emotional journey that you just experienced and it is on a level unlike any other that I have seen.

There are so many things that you have said where I have just nodded in understanding and thought to myself..."I would have reacted that same way." I love that you are sharing the good and the bad and everything in between.

I am so happy that you were able to go and I thank you for sharing all of this with us.xo

[amy]

i know that this post isn't about looking for praise. i truly understand that feeling of not being able to see in yourself what other people tell you and show you that they see. BUT i wanted to say... i have been a voracious reader since i was a little kid.. all sorts of things, fiction, non fiction, poetry.. i adore words! your writing is truly special. your words evoke feelings and create pictures in my mind that are powerful and beautiful. thank you!