Tuesday, 30 October 2018

NANOWRIMO ... reruns

This old post of mine is circling back as it is again that fast approaching month known as NANOWRIMO (or November to the non-writers). This year Nano expects over 400,000 global participants on the heels of last years reported 394,507 writers in 646 regions across six continents. 

(rerun of my blog from past Novembers:)
November has become globally known as National Novel Writing MonthNaNoWriMo, as it is affectionately called in many scribe-circles. I have participated in this November writing challenge on and off since its inception in 1999. 
It wasn’t always a popular wordsmith thing to do and I recall many years back posting NaNoWriMo info to a members’ listserv of a professional writers' group and getting some flack feedback on it being considered ‘unprofessional’.  (Interesting perhaps unrelated side note here that my dictionary defines “bookish” as forming opinions through reading rather than experience.)  Well now … fast forward a decade plus later and it seems all the ‘cool kids’ are doin’ it.
The NaNoWriMo concept is that of a total honour system, one sets out to write daily, hammering out a month long 50,000 word draft novel manuscript. Now 50,000 words hardly constitutes a full on literary long-written tome by scholar standards, but as the site FAQ points out … “Our experiences since 1999 show that 50,000 is a difficult but doable goal, even for people with full-time jobs and children. The length makes it a short novel (about the length of The Great Gatsby). We don’t use the word “novella” because it doesn’t seem to impress people the way “novel” does.” 
Much tongue-in-cheek type of humour abounds in the NaNoWriMo FAQ’s and info on the site giving the impression to take this experience lightly and enjoy the writing focused month. But nothing could be more of a juxtaposition than the droll Nano backgrounder info and the overly-enthusiastic member forums. This is a seriously serious month for many posting with little regard to children or full-time jobs. November for the dedicated wrimo is about nothing outside of late-night writing, self-deprivation and the dreams of a best-seller over-night (one-month) success (and the occasional use of too many hyphens).
Writer regions exist world-wide for those who want to dial-in and connect, launch the month, spend countless hours on-line chatting about what they are writing and given the volume of some postings, assuming taking valuable time away from the actual writing. Come to NaNoWriMo for personal reasons, take from it what you want, connect or not connect, post your word count daily if you want. At month end the goal is to spool in your 50,000 word document for a scramble and a word count and delete, earning the writer a virtual badge prize to proudly display. No editing required, no outlines or pre-thought pre-requisites just show up and write. 

This 'hobby' writer site is not to be taken lightly, unless you wish to, as many heavy hitters have nailed great success including a reported over 250 NaNoWriMo novels that have been traditionally published. One of my all time favourite reads is a wrimo success story, Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants. Visit the website and check out the press page and other cool details. Yes there is a greater cause, yes there are things you could purchase and support, but not a requirement to register, hang out as much or as little as you want and above all no rules to writing other than simply just do it! Set a personal goal, a vision of sorts, grab a pen or open a file, and start writing.

NaNoWriMo is not to be confused with Movember … although I am certain there are many unshaven cross over personal goals being met between these two very worthy global month long occasions in what used to be a sleeper of a month. November you are making a real name for yourself!
Enjoy the month no matter what your cause.
Write often, write always … and in November write daily!
(ps … yes I am using my real name at Nano (check out my profile) and am shooting for a 50,000 word first draft of a short story series in development, no I am realistically NOT thinking instant bestseller … but then one can dream …)

Wednesday, 3 October 2018

Mercy and Grace ...

By Michelle Greysen

As a writer my truth comes in words. Whenever I am faced with a struggle I find my meaning, my solace in the words. In the narrative guiding my daily path.

I am not a religious person in any traditional sense. I honestly do not know what it is I believe in or if I even believe in anything greater than the moment I am in. I see that perfect moment every time I look into the eyes of my children and even more so into the eyes of their children. That light that beams out of them with unexplainable love carrying a universe of meaning beyond. Life, my life, theirs, assures me that we did not get here to this place in time together by accident. Love tells us in our hearts there is more. Life often tries to prove to us that there is not.

There has been way too many blessings to show me there is something greater but in that same truth there is equally so much wrong to test me that there is nothing more. I question how can there be. How could something, someone, some greater good equally deliver such pain.

I count my blessings on one hand, but in the same breath I count my losses on the other.

If there is something then today is the day I ask, not for myself, but for my sister that she be given Mercy. No more godly punishing. That she be given Grace. Extended godly kindness.

Today I ask for Mercy and Grace.

Thursday, 8 March 2018

Blogging ... blah blah blah ...

Excuse my lack of blogging for a very long time but life has been extremely busy with enough distance now passed between my writing life, my realtor life, my personal life.  I can again feel comfortable being opinionated and sometimes even write with a know-it-all abandon as I am at that point in my life that I don’t care what anyone thinks of my side of any story. I write because it is who I am. I am an observer, a story teller, a word-girl and have come to see that I am somewhat of a guide to many I cross paths with. I don't have all the answers, but I do listen to the questions. That alone seems to bring a go-to air around my daily life, be it work, family, personal or more. I take my part in the world seriously, don't have all the answers - in fact don't know if I have any answers but it seems people bring me questions and the discussions are worthy. 

On the flip side of people voicing questions and my sometimes too-logical unemotional path through a discussion to find an answer, I also find myself with many daily life-questions of my own. Writing brings me an understanding into self, how and why I think a certain way and my own personal truth.
Take it or leave, agree or disagree, comment or hit delete, landing on my words is somehow a path to your own personal truth, as is in the writing process, a path that leads to mine.

Thank you for reading,

Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Recently overheard at an anonymous meeting of JOIN-A-HOLICS …

“Hello my name is Michelle and I am a volunteer-a-holic.”

“Welcome Michelle!” chimes in the many sombre faces around the dimly lit church basement.
“I am a ‘joiner’. I am never able to quietly sit back and be satisfied to just be a member, I always have to put my hand in the air and volunteer to help.”
“We hear you sista … here here … never can just sit on my hands either …” resonates around the rows of chairs.

“Even though each time it ends badly and I swear to never offer my volunteer time again to any organization I always get swallowed back in and eventually spit back out. The many school mom planned activities I was so glad to be done with when my boys grew up wore me down over and over. Then the extra-curricular activities committees, and organizing of fundraiser and events.”
A big heavy all-knowing sigh rippled through the air.
“The local activities that turned into provincial teams, winter games committees and next thing I knew I was sitting on recreational centre board chairs, Karate club provincial boards. Endless meetings, countless hours for the greater team while my own personal time and my children’s mother time got swallowed up in overextended volunteer hours.”

The blank stares sat numb on their hands as if in fear of blurting out an offer to help. The very illness that brought them to the camaraderie of the meeting can also just as easily rip them apart. For join-a-holics, even asking for a volunteer to bring some after-meeting baking or show up early to start the coffee was a gateway drug to that slippery slope of giving too much, of not knowing when volunteerism ends and martyrdom starts.

She continued almost in tears, “At first everyone appreciates all the little things you do, all the efforts, the fresh ideas, the endless hours and enthusiasm but then those great ideas need a committee, a team, a team leader, and it all happens again.” Her voice cracks in the rawness of the moment. “I walked away many times over the years. Quit committees. Left town. Moved. But it always starts again. They find me. Those who see my volunteer giving nature and know I can get a job done and done well.” Another sympathetic sea of head nodding bobs around the group.
“When my boys were grown I swore off all volunteering and recognized that I could not even be a joiner. Joining anything meant sooner than later I was up to my pick-me-pick-me-eyeballs in a crush of overextended give-back free work to people who really didn’t care to help but took the glory without the effort.”
A loud “AMEN” rang out in the back.

“I even had a relapse and found myself back on the street and sitting on Chamber of Commerce Boards and hit a volunteer-low serving in elected municipal government” A gasp chilled the room of shocked faces. “I fell off the give-back wagon in a big way but thankfully a move out of town helped me crack that set back in my join-a-holics recovery.”
“Stay strong girl … you can have your own time again … be selfish and say no” were the revival shouts around the room.

“Eventually I took up my own interests, my own professional associations and I told myself joining became a career move necessity. Sitting at annual general meetings was getting harder and harder to not shout out the likes of ‘why don’t you do it this way or that way’  and before I knew it I was on committees and boards and back in the thick of it. In the beginning it was always fine everyone likes the fresh face, the new ideas, and the enthusiasm but then it starts. They build you up, back you up, push you into lead board roles and next thing you know you are on top and blamed for all that is wrong with an organization founded long before you showed up and hopefully will survive long after you are gone. It is like the government in that people vote you in, the rules and bylaws, the budgets and strategic plans are in place and rolling long before you ever arrived but heaven forbid any downturn or disappointment as you are the brunt of all things wrong.”

Her voice was drifting in her thoughts while a few keeners in the front row encouraged her to go on.
“If there is a positive outcome and success there is no ‘I’ in team and many many hands, many members, many volunteers all show up and say they worked tirelessly hand in hand to achieve the positive future. BUT if/when there is any downturn in the organization, the economy, the lack of funding, the lack of volunteers, and things do not go well as a key volunteer, a board head, a task force lead, then all of a sudden the team steps back and the lead role becomes single handedly the blame for all that went wrong.”
The join-a-holics meeting sat in awkward silence as she started to sob uncontrollably. “it’s not the countless overextended give-back-hours I miss” she sobbed, “or the half day electronic cross-province meetings, the exhausting time-zone shifting flight delayed travel cross country for board meetings, the out of pocket expenses and weeks a year away from my own work and home – no I knew full well what I was taking on and exhausting myself in.”
“We’ve all been there … no praise no glory … no appreciation for your efforts now is there” came the cries from those feeling her pushed-to-the-limits volunteer spirit.

As she composed herself she had one last message to share in hopes of helping her fellow overextended-volunteers. “A part of me thinks I would do it all again for any cause, any organization, any association I believe in but then I know in my heart of hearts I can’t for one simple single reason”. The crowd sat eagerly waiting for perhaps a gem of hope for their own over-volunteering-recovery.
“The hardest part when bad things happen to good volunteers is that when all is said and done, the friendships gained, the hours and hours spent enthusiastically trying to better your organizations, your profession, your industry, through giving back and volunteering to serve the board and all your colleague members … the hardest part is that if it does not happen, if all goes sideways, if that ‘team’ it takes to make a good association great cannot do the job then it is the leader, the top chair, who takes the blame, the ‘I’ that is not in team, is suddenly where it all falls.”
Feeling powerful again in her aaaaa-haaa moment she continued on preaching to the choir of those who knew that giving-too-much pain. “Now the blame I could have handled, righting wrongs, tweaking unbalanced budgets, finding much needed funds, moving forward and gladly helping fight the good fight but that is not the problem. The heartbreak, the reason why you seek out a church basement join-a-holics meeting to swear off ever volunteering again is simply the reason you showed up to help in the first place … the people, the colleagues, who have now become friends, associates, industry partners. It is not the not-succeeding as a committee/board that is the heartbreak, it is the blame and more so the sad loss of all those people, now friends, colleagues you offered to represent and help who turn their backs and throw you away with the problems. It is the personal blame for the professional woes.”

The group stood up and cheered as she returned to her seat. The next speaker up at join-a-holics that evening and the next one after that all lamented the same loss. It was never for the role, the glory, the ego, the title, it was for the belief in why you volunteered, the respect for what you were passionate about, the support of colleagues to grow an association, better an industry. The push back and the desire to never want to volunteer or give back ever again comes from the lack of personal respect offered around the table when an organization struggles. Blame of volunteers who selflessly give-back should not be part of the solution.

Burned-out unappreciated volunteers are everywhere around us, sworn off giving of their time and talents ever again. Appreciate your organization and industry volunteers, your community clubs and school parent helpers, and all those people who give selflessly to better your membership experience. If things are not always on the upswing don’t personally blame or ostracize the volunteers and instead do the only acceptable action out of respect and decency - thank them and show up offering to help.

Are you a candidate for a join-a-holics meeting? I welcome your comments.
Thanks for visiting,

(who is grateful to have a lot more writing time now)

Wednesday, 7 January 2015

as the world cries #JeSuisCharlie …

Today, this morning, my calendar had penciled in a window of personal and professional goal setting. Today was a day to plan my future year ahead, but I find myself instead opening my computer to the horrors of the news coming in from Paris this morning.  Ten journalists at the offices of Charlie Hebdo magazine in Paris, France now have no future. I am numbed by the headlines, tweets, posts and images of the massacre of the journalists, including four political cartoonists, along with the injuring of 20 other staff in the office on the publication’s team and sadly two police officers defending the threatened press members, are also dead.

When global terrorism strikes in my industry it hits home hard. I’ve sat there in a weekly editorial meeting many times over in my career (no gunman ever walked in the door shooting). The sharing of ideas, the editorial line up planning and creative brainstorming, the layout and advertising team all gelling together to deliver a print product worthy of readership press day after press day. Staying current, edgy, articulate, news worthy (enjoying freedom of speech, freedom of press). The creative team at a publication truly becomes a tight work-family as it takes all the pieces (10 lifeless creator bodies in the board room and 20 staff contributors all shot today around the office at Charlie Hebdo in Paris) to bring the ideas, flush them out, make them readable, paper eye candy and sellable at the same time. A small village produces a publication in a challenging creative dance each issue.

I remember back to my publisher chair on a weekly in Calgary when a few of the key staff, myself included, received disturbing and personally threatening letters one day. As an alternative weekly our content was not always for the middle-of-the-road reader (Charlie Hebdo magazine satirically challenged the status quo). We did not always please all of the readers all of the time and nor was that a publication goal. We did however offer a space to a popular columnist, Dan Savage, who has a great habit of pushing the morality-envelope every chance he gets to great brand success both humorous and insightful. The reader who sent the outright hate-mail blamed the staff for the lack of morality in the world, branding each guilty by association via publishing Savage Love weekly. Although ahead of the 911 attacks on all freedoms, the letters were disturbing enough to bring in the police. The envelopes were checked for contaminants, the staff were counseled, felt violated, personally attacked and very threatened for that which was printed in the pages of our paper. It was an alarming time. Our small and for the most part unnoticed alternative weekly experienced personal threats for doing our jobs and we each questioned our roles and our individual willingness to deliver on the underlying realities of the bigger picture of freedom of the press and free speech. A small scale incomparable story based on today’s Paris publication loss but one I can relate to on some level. I will never forget that September day, less than a month later, walking into the office to find the newspaper staff, my press-family, huddled around a tiny black and white TV screen in the break room. Stunned in dead silence as the images of the plane hitting the towers in New York seemed frozen on the static grainy screen. The world changed. Our freedoms changed. Freedom of the press changed forever.

One did not have to work on the leading edge of a CNN or CBC news team to feel the crush. Post 911 many writer colleagues across the country, and the globe, in all types of publications, questioned their roles. Delivering the truth was getting harder and harder, sadder and sadder, and yes riskier and riskier. To be part of an industry that brings the news and commentary to the world, good, bad or alternative, truthful, satirical or truthiness as Steven Colbert has dubbed it, all now runs with a grave risk. The Poynter.org reports that Reporters Without Borders’ annual “roundup of violence against journalists” recently released shows that globally in 2014 alone there were alarmingly 66 journalists killed, 119 kidnapped and 853 arrested.

Today in Paris that risk became a harsh reality. Many of those, ten, who came to work today at the offices of Charlie Hebdo, working at a publication which defended the freedom of words, the freedom of speech, the freedom of the press, are now tragically gone. Violently obliterated from humanity and existence by those intolerant to freedoms.  Those who did not like what this particular alternative satirical publication had to deliver walked in and gunned down the staff injuring 20 of them and killing 10 along with 2 police officers.

We all lost a little more freedom today. While I write this I am being intimidated on twitter from an account retweeting my sharing of some of the global journalist stories unfolding. The suspect account tagging my tweets (@mur_candemir #Muslims) is full of vitriol and hateful threats for the French. Even myself, a non-politically-influential writer in rural nowhere a world away has been personally retweeted perhaps in some sort of fear tactic by this rogue account. Very unsettling. Life has escalated today beyond what many can comprehend, myself included.

Our humanity is in grave danger of obliterating each other over words. That makes the writer in me broken.

click this quote to read an amazing piece today by former Onion editor:
"Freedom of speech cannot be killed"