It’s quite possible that I’m losing my mind. I recently wrote that words were leaving my head like old lovers—which might sound like a good thing.
It isn’t.
Covid gave me the gift of a very long break from my Rebalancing bodywork practice, which had been pretty hectic right up until March 2020. In an average week I gave seventeen to twenty sessions, some an hour long, others were ninety minutes. For three years I’d been flying between Victoria and Toronto at least four times a year. In that time I managed two households as well as two therapeutic practices. In each place, I offered weekly AWA writing workshops and one day-long a month. In 2018 I took a group to Greece for a 10-day writing retreat. In October 2021, I hosted a three-day retreat in Quebec.
Manoir de la Foret, Cantley, Quebec
All this to say my dance card had very few blanks and although I didn’t fully realize it, I was very, very tired. After a month of brutal COVID symptoms in March 2020, the months following provided me with the opportunity to rest. Like many others, that’s when I learned how tired I was. I’ve never been good at stopping, but now I had no choice.
Except… now there was Zoom. So within a matter of months, I had a thriving Zoom writing workshop business. It took me a while to recognize that it was in fact a real business and not just a small part of my life.
One of the many gifts of facilitating AWA writing workshops is that the facilitator is required to take the same risks as the participants, which means they must write. Over the next two years, I completed a full draft of a novel.
In October 2021, Regal House Publishing in Raleigh accepted my first novel for publication. Somewhere in early 2023, I began another novel. Then in April, I took a group to Spain for a yoga and writing retreat. After touring Seville, Granada, and Malaga, I went to France for an extended residency to pull my second novel into some sort of polished shape.
Now, strangely, in the fall of 2023, it seems the real work begins. And it also seems that I’m losing my mind. I have to wonder if that is also a gift of Covid (which I’ve had three times) or if it is a combo of stress, age, and Covid hangover. In a recent New York Times article, a journalist sought to assuage us old folks with some quotes from a behavioral neurologist about how when memory changes it doesn’t necessarily signal the onset of dementia. Lately, though, it’s not just names of people, places, or films, it’s simple words. Really simple, everyday words. Thank goodness for the thesaurus being a simple right-click away. But seriously, this is not the time, all right? I have things to do, say, and write.
Although I’ve been able to reduce (a word, incidentally, that I needed to find by searching for synonyms for “cut back”) my bodywork practice to five or six a week, currently I have these tasks swirling in my brain: Attend to the edits suggested by two editors on The Soft Ones (the novel “completed” during my residency); put together grant proposals to work on the new novel; edit and transcribe the chapters already written for the new novel, working title, The Breath She Takes; attend to all the aspects of preparing to launch, promote, market, etc., What the Living Do set for release in March; and create engaging lesson plans for the workshops that will stimulate those who write with me. Oh yeah, and post somewhat interesting articles, essays, or what have you, on this wonderful platform.
What occurs to me when I look at that list is that each of those tasks is something I enjoy… well, maybe not the promoting stuff, but that’s just the nature of the beast these days, so okay, I’ll like it now. But it’s a lot. And I’m tired. And I can’t remember words. And I need words. I need my mind if I’m going to keep doing these things. And I can’t imagine NOT doing these things.
Years ago I had the realization that perhaps I didn’t have to do everything myself, and that there were people who were specialized in various fields one could hire. What a revelation. I could hire a painter, for instance, who would do a far superior job than I could. Or someone to deep clean my house.
Anyway. Here’s what I did: I hired a publicist. Yup. I’m hoping that she can help me save what’s left of my mind. Already she’s unearthed some words I couldn’t dig up. Such as: meticulous. What a great word.
In order to clear space in my brain to attend to the funner parts of writing and leading workshops and planning retreats, I hired Hollay Ghadery of River Street Writing. She’s reading the ARC of What the Living Do and looking towards next season’s festival circuit. I’ve already done quite a bit of groundwork by sending out the press release and ARCs to podcasters, libraries, and bookstores, and contacted several writing organizations to which I belong, so things are in motion. It’s just such a relief to be able to hand over at least one of the reins.
The other thing I did recently that was smart (trust me, this being smart business is new for me) was join the Babes Who Write critique group, hosted by Herstry. There I met some brilliant, insightful, honest women with whom to exchange work. What made this particular group so valuable was the fact that it was moderated. Moderated by Joanna Acevedo, a wise woman with a keen eye and a mountain of respect. Who, it turns out, is also a book coach, and for a very reasonable fee is helping me craft a synopsis, one of my least favourite aspects of this writing life.
It’s so important to find editors and Beta readers who understand what a story is trying to do. I hired someone to do a substantive edit on The Soft Ones, and it became quite clear from his commentary that he didn’t like my protagonist, which is fine, but judged her as needy and mean and far too sexual. Which was sort of the point. Luckily, other Beta readers understood my Katie and why she is that way. This is to say that simply because one editor or reader doesn’t like some aspect of your story doesn’t mean you should scrap your novel. And as a side note, he did make some helpful observations regarding plot holes, omissions, and a need for more backstory, so it wasn’t a loss.
Today I attended the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival, an outdoor festival where next year I hope to be on the other side of one of the microphones. I learned so much just by listening to the sorts of questions posed to each themed panel’s authors. I loved what Katharine Vermette said in a discussion about using multiple POVs: All narrators are unreliable. Right? So good. Especially if one is writing a first-person or third-person close narrative.
It was a delight to chat with Barbara Kyle with whom I took my first master class. I bought her latest book as well as new novels by Alissa York, Brook Lockyer, and Jamaluudden Aram. I couldn’t help it. They were all intriguing stories with stunning opening pages. I wanted to buy Don Gilmour’s book and Katherine Vermette’s, but I’ll have to wait, I think… my book bag was getting pretty heavy.
In other news, some of the marvellous writers who show up on my screen every week have had sweet successes in that very competitive and crowded world of publication.
Kari Jones’ wondrous middle-grade novel written in our weekly workshops has been accepted for publication by a major publisher (official announcement forthcoming), a poem also created in a Write Our Way In workshop by well-respected and much-published author, Barbara Krasner has been accepted by Consequences Magazine, and you’ll find Katharine Cristiani’s poem Pine Creek recently published in Pine Tree Tavern.
Coming up: Anita Allen and Claire Sheridan are offering a series for those with a book-length project. They are wonderful facilitators and I highly recommend their workshops. You can find the details on their Ignite Your Write Page
You are living the life of a true writer, Deepam. I'm impressed with your commitment and accomplishments. A woman of influence.
Deepam, thank you so much for sharing your experience. It’s hard to ask for help!