Saturday, January 17, 2009

Things that Sister Beck maybe said (and maybe didn't)

Last night was stake Enrichment night, and our guest speaker was Sister Julie B. Beck, General R. S. President. Before she spoke, our stake leadership read a letter (you may have heard it) from the General Presidency reminding us that things General Authorities say in individual meetings (such as the one we were in) were for the benefit of the attendees only, and that notes we take were for our own use and not to be circulated over the internet or in other ways to other people.

So in sharing some thoughts and quotes here I’m probably doing exactly what they don’t want me to do. But I think it’s probably OK as long as we all understand that the following is DARLENE’S TRANSLATION OF and RESPONSES TO A TALK BY SISTER JULIE B. BECK, not to be taken as literally Sister Beck’s words. Because maybe I heard it wrong, wrote it wrong, or simply was existing in another universe completely while she was speaking. Got it? OK. Here goes.

Sister Beck spoke for a few minutes, then opened up the meeting to questions. Here are two questions I wanted to ask but didn’t:

“I have friends who are getting a little panicky about the inevitable (as they see it) upcoming collapse of the economy. Some even feel that in the last General Conference, the GA’s were warning about it in sort of veiled terms. I didn’t get that message at all and feel like we should just keep on diligently towards the goals the GA’s have always been recommending: get a year’s supply, get out of debt, have an emergency savings account. Is this something the RS presidency is concerned about? Have you heard anything from the GA’s about it? And what is your suggestion for maintaining hope and peace during this time?”

and

“In your first talk in General Conference, you mentioned that we LDS women should be the best homemakers in the world. I know women who have really struggled with this, feeling like, ‘Gee, it’s hard enough to get the dishes washed each night, and now you’re telling me my house has to be the cleanest on the block?’ As for me, I didn’t feel like this is what you meant. Could you elaborate more on what you really meant?”

But I didn’t ask them.

The questions that did get asked were more like, “How can we make the young sisters feel more at home in RS?” And “How can we foster more sharing among sisters without encouraging whining?”

I only jotted down the things that interested me, or thoughts I had as a result of things she said, so here’s just a hodgepodge.

Remember the three goals each RS woman should have: 1) strengthen home and family, 2) increase faith and personal righteousness, 3) serve the Lord and others. These are your three responsibilities daily. Nothing else matters much. We believe it can be done. We just go about doing the best we can. Just get up every day and do what you know to be right and ask the Lord to help.

The goal of prayer: what do I have to do today in order to live with greater faith, greater hope, and greater charity? How do I need to change?

When you have a problem, ask, “What is it about me that I have to change so that something else can move?”

Sister Beck heard Elder Holland say in a regional conference, “This year, for a New Year’s resolution, resolve to forgive yourself.”

Feel like you need a break? Don’t take a break the world’s way (escape). Instead, take a respite, making sure that you do things that fill you up. What kinds of things, truly, will fill you up? What kinds of things do you truly need? 1) Be as physically strong as you can. (food, sleep, exercise). 2) Word of God in your life, daily. 3) Time on your knees, daily. You’ll never feel fed, no matter what kind of “break” you take, without those things. Because what you need is a miracle: you need a reservoir o strength that you don’t have and knowledge (answers that you don’t have). These comes from God. You’re on the Lord’s errand and He blesses you with miracles.

These children are being hit; they have daily contact with evil. They are future prophets and prophetesses (definition of prophet: someone who knows how to receive revelation). Your job is to teach them how to do this. You can’t delegate this job.

Discipline yourself, not them.

Mothers have three shifts: nighttime, daytime, and swing [what I call the witching hour]. You really can only work two shifts well. Swing is the most important, so save up for it. Rest during the daytime so that you can come out at the top of your game when they get home from school. (Make sure you do restful, filling things during the day so that you are not tired from work or play when they get home.)

Gaining charity is a lifelong quest.

Share your troubles with your sisters without whining.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

My First Poetry Workshop

Well, I was scared.

I don’t know why.

Yes, I do.

I was scared that my old brain wouldn’t be able to keep up with the twenty-year-olds.
I was scared that I would be the slow student in the class.
I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to hold my own. (Truly, I know so little about poetry, having never really studied it—at least not the writing of it. This is my first class.)
I was scared (still am) that the poetry I bring won’t measure up, or will be too shallow or too “sweet” or too religious for the class.
I was scared I’d get lost, park in the wrong place, etc.
I was scared of the potential work the class would require. This is the busiest month I’ve had in years, and I’m still not sure I’ll survive. (New calling, vacation to plan, contest to judge, etc.)

But I went.

The class is held at Westminster. Kurt Brown, a poet and teacher of poets who is the founder of the Aspen Writer’s Conference, is the teacher. He is, apparently, a visiting professor at Westminster. Half of the class is Westminster students who are taking the class for credit—some by choice, and some reluctantly under advisement from counselors (almost all are Creative Writing students in fiction). The other half of the class is members of the community who get to take the class for free but who had to submit writing samples in order to be accepted. (I’m extremely curious about how many applicants there were. Does having been accepted mean anything? Does it mean I show promise? That I am teachable? I’d REALLY like to know this.)

The first half of the class we introduced ourselves and talked in-depth about the kinds of writers we are. I mean, excruciating depth. We had to go around and tell what we write and whom we read. Already I was getting scared because I can’t really say whom I read. Because really, except for a couple of books that dear friends have given me (thanks Angela and Kathy) I mostly read poetry in anthologies. Or from the library. Which means I read stuff and then promptly forget it. Some I like a lot and try to remember but I really don’t. I remember, of course, the ones I own and re-read, so I could at least mention them.

And then we spent way, way, way too long on a questionnaire asking things like “What images appear over and over in your work?” “What kind of poetry do you write?” “What metaphors do you find yourself using?” “Describe your lines.” “What kind of poetry do you hate to read?” “What kind do you hate to write?” “Describe your tone.” “Whom do you read?” (Again.) He gave us like 30 minutes to answer these questions (way too long—did I mention that?) and then we each had to read all of our answers to the others. (I discovered that I wasn’t the one who had read the least poetry there—but still I felt very underexposed.)

So, in case you’re curious, I’ll include some of my answers below.

The second half of the class we studied three or so poems (one by Silvia Plath, one by Gerard Manley Hopkins, can’t remember the other poet but it was a great poem about a snake) in detail, looking mostly at diction (active verbs!). Kurt had taken the Plath poem (“Suicide Off Egg Rock”) and substituted all of her verbs with more commonplace ones. So we read that version and compared. Then he passed out another in which he had also substituted nouns and adjectives. It was pretty amazing.

And made me realize what a handicap my own lack of vocabulary diversity is. I don’t know how to fix that other than reading lots more poetry of the “mouthful” kind (Hopkins is a good example: “For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim”). I don’t want to ever make my self inaccessible through vocabulary, but could certainly use more color and punch!

Then the assignments: read one book of poetry a week and write a two-page review of it (impersonal). Memorize one poem by the end of class. Bring a new poem of my own to each class.

And now comes the big panic as I try to produce for a deadline, and for people I don’t know and trust and whose backgrounds are much different than mine. Wish me luck.

(This is good for me. It will be hard but good.)

Some answers to Kurt Brown’s questions:

1. What themes do you often write about?
Family life, motherhood, the intersection of religion and daily life.

2. What is your tone usually like?
Conversational, chatty, informal.

3. What are your lines like?
Usually short, too often iambic.

4. Whom do you read/like?
Billy Collins, Gerard Manley Hopkins, T. S. Eliot, Frank O’Hara, Mary Oliver, Nancy Keenan (thanks, guys), Lance Larsen.

5. What kind of poetry do you hate to read?
Inaccessible and ungrounded. Also, most nature poems. Sappy religious stuff.

6. What kind of poetry do you find it hardest to write?
Nature poems, of course. Anything longer than a page. Also, love poetry. And this drives me crazy. How many poems have I written about my kids, about family life, and I can’t manage one decent love poem? What’s up with that?

7. Name a type of person, different from yourself, that you would like to “possess” or inhabit.
[Don’t know what’s up with this question.] A musical comedy stage actress. I’d love to be able to belt. Or a member of a vocal jazz group, like New York Voices, living in the city and having gigs.

(cross-posted at DarlenLYoung.blogspot.com)

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Only where's the lamp with fish-net pantyhose?




I got me a Major Award.

Only there’s no lamp.

What there is is validation. And a luncheon that is a pat on the head. And the chance to grant the church rights to use my poem forever, for whatever they want.

It’s called the “Deseret Dramatic Recognition Award,” and it comes from the Church Cultural Arts Committee. Which I’m sure very few of you even knew existed. I didn’t even know it existed until right before I sent a couple of things off to them. The announcement seeking “submissions” was vague enough that I didn’t really know what I was submitting to. Was it a contest? Was it for publication?

But I had a couple of poems sitting around that were religious enough that they didn’t really fit anywhere (except maybe the Ensign), so I said, “Why not?” and sent them off.

And forgot about them.

So things seemed even more mysterious when I got a nice official envelope from the Church Cultural Arts Committee, and the envelope contained what seemed to be a form letter, the kind that gets sent to everyone who enters a contest. It said stuff like, “We’ve made a decision; we had such high quality of entrants this year; enclosed is a list of winners; enclosed is list of judging criteria to give you a better idea of what we look for; we encourage you to enter next year.” The same kind of form letter I have received several times before from other contests. I skimmed it and tried to remember what contest this was that I had apparently entered. I chucked the paper into my paperwork box to file away. Then I picked it up again, just out of curiosity about whether anyone I knew had won. And there was my name on the list of winners!

Go figure!

I think it was a rather strange way to inform me. Two weeks (or more) later I got an official invitation to the luncheon honoring the winners, and a form in which to grant the Church eternal rights to use it. (My poem, “Sacrament Prayer” won, and another one, “On Leading the Singing in Primary” was a finalist.)

So, apparently, I have “won” the chance to let the Church use my poem. And a luncheon.
Do you sense a sort of “Is that all?” whininess here? Maybe there is some. I suppose. A little. I don’t know what I was expecting and I feel a little sheepish to realize that I am disappointed. But I’m beginning to think that maybe the Church is trying to teach us that we should write for the joy of being able to share with the Church. Which is not a bad reason to write (I run over with admiration for Sally deFord for her generosity.) It’s good for me to search my soul to examine the real reason I write.
Is it for the chance at prize money?

Heavens, no.
I think.
(Though it is always, always nice. And I always spend prize money on my writing.)

Is it for the fame? The boost in self-esteem to think that people like what I wrote? (In other words, would I be just as happy hearing that people loved my work if it never had my name on it?)
Maybe.
I don’t like to admit that, but I haven’t completely purged the tiny urge to prove myself, to use my writing as validity.

So this whole thing is probably very good for me.

(And yet, here I am proclaiming it on my blog, so at least SOMEONE will know about it. Sheesh!)
I do have to say that I have gained one very good thing from it (and this is further proof of my enormous ego--or deep insecurity, both of which are sometimes the same thing): that is, it is unbelievably thrilling to say to people, “I won a prize from the Church”--as if my work has now become officially sanctioned or something. A big part of my thrill comes because many of the people that I would say such a thing to are a different demographic than the ones who have appreciated my work before. They have never heard of any of the magazines I’ve published in (except the Friend) and haven’t been impressed at all with the other prizes I’ve won. But, by golly, they’ve heard of the Church! Suddenly people who have never cared to read anything I’ve ever written want to read the poem that won this honor. (Unfortunately, it’s one of my more boring poems.) But I can’t deny the way I swell when people who never cared before suddenly perk up their ears.

So I guess I’m capitalizing on it in just the way that its organizers probably hoped I wouldn’t.

Ah, well.
p.s. They want to know whether I would prefer to read my own poem or have one of them read it. I struggle with this--always have. I can read other people's work just fine, but reading my own work is torturous for me. I shake. My lip twitches. My voice quivers. The paper I'm holding shakes. I have told myself I will take all opportunities to read my own stuff because I NEED TO GET OVER THIS if I want to be a real poet. But, geez, this is one of my most boring poems ever. It's not the same as reading something with a punch (like the boob job poem, for example). I try to picture myself reading this, and the deathly silence that follows after (because, did I mention that it's a boring poem?) and I think I can't handle it. I think I'll let someone else read it.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Writing Seminar

I am savoring, oh so slowly, the letters of Flannery O’Connor as printed in The Habit of Being. Almost every page contains beautiful or clever advice to a writer, or descriptions of the writing life. I am not a book-buyer, but fifty pages into my library copy (and several pages of my own meticulous quote-copying) I informed my purchasing agent (hubby) that I Needed to Own This Book. And, voila, it appeared in the mail a few days later. (Thank you, my ever-supportive-spouse.) So now I can underline to my heart’s content. Today I have for you a few precious tidbits.

On process:

“I never have anything balanced in my mind when I set out; if I did, I’d resign
this profession from boredom and operate a hatchery.”

On being a religions writer:

“A Catholic has to have strong nerves to write about Catholics.”
(substitute “Mormon.”)

“I write the way I do because and only because I am a Catholic. I feel that if I
were not a Catholic, I would have no reason to write, no reason to see, no
reason ever to feel horrified or even to enjoy anything . . . I have been formed
by the Church.”

On poetry:

“Few poets have any business to write novels.”

Your assignment: Choose one of the above quotes and write a response. Here, in my comments section.

(this post cross-posted at Darlenelyoung.wordpress.com)

Sunday, January 04, 2009

If you don't have anything nasty to say . . .

Do you ever re-play old embarrassing moments to yourself and wince again in agony? I do it much less than I used to; I get better every year at forgiving myself and allowing myself to grow. But still, some days I manage to carry around with me labels about myself that are negative. (“I’m such a selfish person,” for example.) I’ll find myself telling myself these things—sometimes in an effort to become a better disciple of Christ. It seems part of my duty, sometimes, to be aware of my shortcomings, either so that I can do better or at least so that I can be humble and try not to judge others so harshly.

But I don’t think that’s right. I’m not sure that’s how Christ wants me to go about thinking of myself. Certainly I don’t think He would approve if I went around thinking constantly about others’ faults, labeling them in my mind (“she’s incapable of recognizing her own faults and apologizing,” for example, or “he’s moody.”) Even though sometimes I do it as a way to remind myself to be charitable and forgive (“Yes, he’s moody. I already knew that about him. I can forgive his recent behavior because I know that’s just his fault that he struggles with, just like I struggle with selfishness”).

So, anyway, I have a friend whom I would like to make a closer friend who has the talent (skill, tendency) of never, ever labeling.

But here’s the thing: she bends so far backwards to avoid labeling that I’m having a hard time getting closer to her. Here’s why.

Whenever we are together, most of the conversation centers around me. Because when she asks how I’m doing, I tell her about my struggles as well as my triumphs. I, like she, am a full-time mother, so often my struggles involve trying to figure out how to help a child with a negative personality trait that he has. Because I want the conversation to be two-sided, I often invite her opinions or suggestions on these kinds of struggles. Which puts her in a position of giving me advice, but it doesn’t bother me because I ask for it.

However, that’s usually the end of the conversation. Because she will not share anything negative about her family (or herself, for that matter). It is a personal policy of hers (she has told me) never to say anything negative about anybody, including herself. So we never talk about struggles she has with her kids or any struggles she might have in trying to get herself to live better.

I resent this. It makes me feel shut out. Surely she has struggles. I don’t want to have a gossip fest, but I do want to be allowed to ease (or at least SEE) her burdens.

But I also resent the feeling that I’m incapable of having a mutually nurturing relationship with someone unless they will “spill dirt” with me. And how egotistical does it make me look to think that I might be able to lighten her burden somehow?

I begin to wonder if I even know how to have a real friendship, whether I really know what a true friend does for her friend. And I can’t figure it out—does this women have other friends that she DOES tell things to? Which would mean that she just doesn’t need me as a closer friend. Strangely, that would ease my mind. I don’t HAVE to be her best friend. Or is it that she doesn’t speak negatively to ANYONE? (This, from what I can tell, seems to be the case.) Is that HEALTHY? And if so, what are girlfriends for in her life? Maybe I am missing something huge about what friends should and should not be to each other.

I ask myself why it is that I want so much to be closer to her. I think it’s because I know that she truly wants, as deeply as I want, to live righteously in every way possible. I’m drawn to people like that. I want to be around them more. But I feel bad about what seems to be a barrier between us, and about my own fear that the barrier is there because I am somehow dependent on HER HAVING WEAKNESSES in order for us to be close.

[p. s. By the way, don't forget to check out my Official Author's Site. The link is the first one there on my sidebar.]

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Book Report

Oh, my goodness, have I ever been reading lately. And it has felt sooooooo good! I know that January is going to be utterly crazy, so I just sort of gave myself permission to lie around reading in my spare time these last two months. So I have a lot to report.

But first: why is January going to be crazy? Because I will be helping to judge the Segullah poetry contest, for one thing. Lucky, lucky us, because we got 79 entries this year!!!!! I have worked really hard on publicity (e-mailing creative writing professors all over the place, for example) and am so happy to get so many poems. And many of them are good, too! Hallelujah!

For another thing, I will be starting my poetry workshop with Kurt Brown. He is a visiting writer-in-residence at Westminster this semester and he (so very kindly) opened up his seminar to members of the community on a portfolio/acceptance basis. And I got invited to participate! (I sent “Dying Hair,” “Washing Mother,” and “Post Partum,” I believe.) He is the guy who started the Aspen Writers’ Conference. I feel like this workshop is exactly what I need for my personal development. I’ve been writing for these little LDS publications (which I love) but I’ve never submitted nationally and I don’t know where I stand in a non-Mormon market. I’ve also never had a real teacher of poetry and I’m quite scared at the possibility of discovering my limits. What if I’m incapable of improving? Then what happens to my dream of an MFA? It will be cool to meet some other local poets, though, and push myself.

And this month is the beginning of more intense classroom volunteering for me (Junior Great Books begins).

And this month we’ll be taking our oldest two on a cruise! (It was their Christmas present and a darn good deal.)

So life will get crazy. Hope my blog survives. You won’t abandon me, will you?

And now, on to the book report.

Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear
I really enjoyed this little detective story. I’m not a big mystery reader, but the main character in this book, the detective, is a fascinating character that kept me wanting more. It takes place during the time between the two World Wars. Maisie Dobbs has moved from the lower class to the middle class by virtue of her cleverness and some opportunities she lucked into. One of the most fascinating things for me was the effect of Maisie’s instruction from a yogi. She has learned to use her body, and meditation, in helping discover things about other people. Fascinating to me. Two Thumbs Up.

Doubt by John Patrick Shanley
This is the play that the movie that just came out is based on. I actually checked this out because of a broadcast by Doug Febrezio in which he interviewed some actors and a director who put on this play a few years ago. From that interview, the play sounded fascinating. I was a little disappointed in it, feeling that it was a little slight. I was hoping that it would be another Lying Awake in the way it deals with doubt and faith. It wasn’t, but it still raises some very interesting questions. I imagine the movie will be very interesting. (Plot: a nun becomes convinced that a priest she works with is molesting at least one child. But she has no proof. The play is about how people deal with doubt.) One Thumb Up.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lucy See
This one was recommended to me, but I can’t remember by whom. I found some of the subject matter (foot binding, secret writing among Chinese women) very interesting but the story was kind of flat. Too much “I didn’t know then what horrible things would happen” and then the bad things happen and then “I didn’t know then what else would happen” etc. etc. It just kind of felt like a train slowly coming to a stop. Disappointment. One Thumb Down.

Home by Marilynne Robinson
What can I say? In heaven, I will write like Marilynne Robinson (and also have Rachel’s singing voice). She’s like a female Wallace Stegner. I just adore how she can get into people’s heads and describe subtle changes within people. My husband would HATE any of her books for that same reason (it takes 50 pages for anything to begin to happen) but I could just read and read and read Robinson, savoring each moment like a lick of frozen custard. Home is the sequel to Gilead and equally amazing, and moving, and heart-wrenching in its truthfulness. Three Thumbs Up, or more (if I had them).

Before I Wake by Joseph Wiersema
A quick read about a girl who seems to have miraculous healing abilities while she is in a coma. Although I felt the beginning was slow and the end was very hokey, the book kept me going until the end. One Thumb Up.

Once Upon a Day by Lisa Tucker
This was one that I kept wondering why I was still reading it but never could bring myself to stop. It’s about a girl who was raised in seclusion in the New Mexico desert but who has to leave her home and, in the process, discover the truth about her past. Just a pretty interesting plot but nothing more. No Thumbs.

Hide and Seek by Wendy Aaron
The back of this one said it was a humorous book about depression. It’s a memoir, and it describes the author’s attempts to cure herself of her depression. I didn’t find it funny at all. I found it depressing. Two Thumbs Down.

Can You Ever Forgive Me by Lee Israel
The premise was very interesting: the memoir of a literary forger and how (and why) she did it. But it turned out to be boring. One Thumb Down.

Whatever You Do, Don’t Run by Peter Allison
True stories about a safari guide. Entertaining, light reading. It took me a day, and was very enjoyable. One Thumb Up.

Where I Live by Eileen Spinelli
This is a cute little middle-grade book told in verse (like Love that Dog). I enjoyed it quite a bit (takes an hour to read) and then I passed it to my 7-year-old, who couldn’t put it down and finished it that afternoon. Two Thumbs Up.

What have you read lately that’s good?