Watching the sunset from 7-11

I have a thing about sunsets.  I guess you could consider me a connoisseur of sunsets.  I enjoy sunrises too, but their timing is somewhat antagonizing, being at dawn and all that.  It's hard to really enjoy a sunrise during the weekday between the shower and the letting the dog out and the forgetting the coffee mug on top of the car as you pull down the driveway. 

When I used to make farm calls more often than I do now, I often saw both sunrises and sunsets in the same day due to long hours in the truck.  There was something nice about going to a dairy before sunrise, pulling a calf in the dark pre-dawn hours, and then walking back out to the truck under a pink and glowing sky. 

Now I feel I collect sunsets and sunrises.  I photograph them whenever possible, and take a moment to enjoy them whenever I can.  Our house, sitting in its cramped and impervious-to-nature subdivision faces east and I can catch glimpses of the sunrise from our second story bedroom window.  This has led to many a fleeting image of sunrise from a camera poking out at 6 am on a wintry morning. 

Winter sunrise out the bedroom window

Unfortunately, our house has no view of the sunset.  We sit in a slight dip and the backyard offers a marvelous view... of the neighbors' backyards.  However, drive up a small hill out of the neighborhood and across the street to the 7-11.  There, in the parking lot facing due west is a fairly unobstructed view of the sunset.  And so I sit in my Honda Civic sometimes just to watch the sky.  And occasionally eat ice cream.  

View of the sunset at my 7-11

Over the years of sunset observation, I have learned a thing or two.  I've found that winter is usually the best season for the most colorful sunsets (and sunrises) and I've also observed that tumultuous weather sometimes yields the best sunsets of all.  It's all about cloud placement.  And a little luck.  Of course there's some science behind it, too.  For some really good info on sunsets, visit NOAA's website here. 

Interestingly, on self-reflection, I don't actually find sunsets particularly inspiring for writing, at least not in the way other things affect my neurons like a hike in the woods or a good bike ride.  Perhaps if I were a painter I would glean more creative sustenance from a sunset.  But that's ok.  Maybe it's because when I watch a sunset, my head is empty.  I'm enjoying it for what it is - a fleeting colorful image that is changing before my eyes and will be gone in minutes.  Indeed, I've had sunset experiences where I've run for the camera only to find upon return that the colors are no longer as vibrant as they were only minutes before.  There's probably some deep metaphor on life buried in here somewhere - feel free to find it and let me know.

We have an upcoming trip to the Pacific Northwest in about a month.  I'm really looking forward to catching a sunset or two over the Pacific.  Until then, the sunset around here occurs around 7:45 pm.  If you're passing through the 7-11 at that time, you just might see me.  I'd like to share a few more sunsets/sunrises with you as collected on various travels.  Enjoy!

Sunset: Maui

Sunrise: Maui

Sunset: Frederick, Maryland

Sunset: Virginia Beach, Virginia

Sunset: Key Largo, Florida

More than one way to write a query or castrate a dog

This has been a roller coaster week - two half marathons in a row have kept me physically stressed and I've been busy at work refreshing my memory on cattle reproductive hormones (prostaglandins in particular, like good ol' prostaglandin E2, which means a review of the cyclooxygenase 2 pathway and all that good stuff).  However, I've tried to remain diligent with my writing and soon I'll have a few more queries to send out to magazines.

If you look up "how to write a query letter" you'll find an almost overwhelming amount of advice online which is simultaneously great and aggravating.  Yes, there is the standard set-up of a query letter: the "hook", the synopsis, and your biography, but just how you craft your hook can be done about a million ways.

I don't know about you, but although options are sometimes nice (like ice cream), for other things such as query writing and learning to drive a manual transmission, I want to be told ONE WAY to do it for starters.

ALL THE OPTIONS!!!

Some aspects of veterinary medicine are like this too.  Take castrations.  Junior year of vet school is when you begin to learn the art of surgery.  You start with the basics, which is the feline neuter.  Then you up the ante a little and progress to the canine neuter (interesting to note how different all the species are when it comes to testicles).  We would practice and refresh our anatomy on cadavers with the surgeons hovering around in the background trying to offer helpful tips.  I remember one particularly easy-going small animal surgeon (I know, I know: What? An easy-going small animal surgeon!? That's crazy talk!) offering tips when castrating a dog: you can do the "closed" technique or "open."  You can use two clamps or three.  You can use this suture and these knots, or this one over here.  You can close the skin with this suture pattern or that.  "Which one would you prefer?" he asked us in the anatomy lab, referring to which combination of methods to use during this surgery, almost like employing artistic license.

It was too much for me.  "How are we supposed to know?" I asked.  Asking which way I prefer when I've never actually done it was so weird and annoying to me, I was getting aggravated, not to mention confused.  What is the tunica albuginia again? Which is the Kelly hemostat?  Perhaps the formalin fumes were getting to me.  "Just show me ONE WAY to do it for now," I said.  "Once I get comfortable with that, then I can try other methods."

The day of the actual neuter on the actual (living) dog went fine.  Things were clamped, things were removed, and the dog woke up afterwards.  Now of course I forgot the way I chose to do it.  Also, I'll admit I don't neuter every dog the same way - different situations call for different methods.  I suppose it's sort of the same thing with a query letter. 

Now that I have lots of dog neuters and query letters under my belt, I'm not as stressed or annoyed when someone suggests something new.  I can nod my head and think: yes, I've thought about placing that ligature there.  Or: yes, I've wondered about including that piece of information here.  Having more than one option helps keep you flexible and even helps you be more creative (that creativity part only applies to queries - probably not a good idea to get too creative when castrating something....)

Now to explore my options in the ice cream department...

Push on through

I'm having a hard time writing tonight.  With the events in Boston yesterday, I cannot concentrate.  If you follow this blog, you know that I completed my very first marathon exactly one month ago today, so what happened at the Boston Marathon yesterday seems fresh, like something I can relate to.  In fact, it seems like something a lot of people can relate to. 

So, I tried to start a blog on how there's more than one way to write a query, just like there's more than one way to castrate a dog.  But, sorry, my heart's not in it. I feel disingenuous writing something so trite and mundane today.  Stay tuned for that in a week or something. 

I just feel sad.  A deep sad that's just sort of hanging around in my guts. 

But, people are saying there's a lot of good that's coming out of this.  People much more eloquent than I are able to bring positive thoughts to such a negative thing.  Like Patton Oswalt's Facebook note.  Or the silent run in Miami tonight to show support.  The runnersworld site has a large list of other tribute runs going on this weekend and other events to show support.  I'll be closely watching the DC running scene to see if anything similar pops up around here.  These things make me feel a little bit better.

So I will continue to watch the news as the investigation unfolds.  And I will continue to run, since I have a half marathon coming up in two weeks.  And I will have to get my head back in the game, since there are deadlines and real work that needs to be attended to.  And most of all, I will read the columns of Bostonians such as Scot Lehigh of the Boston Globe that show how tough, determined, and resilient these people are.  And we will push on through. 

The Heat of Competition

Now that the Epic Journey to the Marathon is over (whew), I can take a step back and concentrate on things I love more than torturing myself, like chocolate, puppies, writing, and torturing my husband.

Puppies are better than running a marathon

Chocolate cake is also better than running a marathon

So, I'm writing more regularly again and helping my husband train for a half marathon.  However, a curious thing is happening.  My husband is running almost as fast as I am.  Sometimes faster.  And I find this totally unacceptable.

I do not normally classify myself as a competitive person.  But deep down, I think I am.  I suspect a lot of people in the medical profession drift toward the Type A personality and tend to be at least a little competitive.  I recall in vet school being conscious of classmates' test scores and surgical skills to a sometimes acute degree.  But I also know, on some other level of my brain that apparently does not communicate with the competitive level, that this is a totally unhealthy way of evaluating and comparing oneself.  The same goes with writing.

I read a lot about people who find themselves jealous of other writers' success.  Since I don't know anyone personally who is a best-selling author or literary smash, I can't say I've had any of those feelings personally, but I can certainly understand them.  While you are toiling away bleeding your poor fingers to nubs on the keyboard trying to punch out the next best American novel (or YA series or encyclopedia of horses or historical sci-fi soap opera) someone just (overnight it seems) won the Pulitzer and Opera's Book Club in the same week!  No fair!!!!

Ah, but it seems to me that like life, all in writing is not fair.  Or is it: all's fair in love and war?  I don't know - find some quote about life being unfair and that'll do.

There's a lot out there on the internet about the topic of writer's jealousy so I take it this is a fairly common feeling.  Noelle Sterne wrote a very good blog on How to Conquer Jealousy that offers sage advice and good tips.  Author Robin Black also shares her personal experiences with the green-eyed monster.  But there's also a different side of the coin here.  If you're too jealous too much of the time, doesn't that just make you a jerk?  The awesome literary online mag The Rumpus explores this concept point-blank in the Dear Sugar column.  Good reading.

But wait.  There's a difference between being a competitive writer and being a jealous writer.  I think, to a certain degree (please note the italics!!!!) that being a little competitive can help.  I mean, who here needs a push sometimes to make that leap into writing that short story?  Or finishing that novel?  Or querying that magazine?  Or submitting that poem?  Sometimes it can be a little competitiveness that sparks a fire to get you off your rear and DO SOMETHING.

Eh, I bet that blonde kid eats his boogers. Jerk.

HOWEVER.  Don't be a jerk.  Be like a superhero: put your feelings of competitiveness to good use, not evil.  In other words, when my husband comes back from a 5 mile run that was just a little faster than my time and he looks at me and says: "I'm coming to get you," well... this is competition, baby.  Bring it on.

On Writing: A Comparison to the Marathon Part 3 of 3

So, I did it.  I completed my first marathon, the Rock n' Roll USA Marathon on March 16.  It's over.  Thank god. 

I'm not particularly proud of my finishing time, or the fact that my quadriceps became iron logs at Mile 21.  But, I did it.  And that's that. 

OK, it's funny, but am I the only person who thinks sloths are really creepy?

So, now we're all set up for the comparison between finishing a marathon and writing and it goes a little somethin' like this (at least in my experience):  finishing a marathon is like finishing a first draft.  There's a flurry of emotions as you cross the finish line and as you eek out your final sentence.  There's joy that this epic journey is finally done; there's anxiety over what's next; there's disappointment that it wasn't all that you hoped for; there's hope that the next time will be better.  Who out there is absolutely in love with their first draft, whether it be an article, a short story, or a novel?  Not me!  I usually hate it and fight the urge to bury it under a rock somewhere. 

This is where I bury my first drafts: under a giant rock guarded by goats. Fierce guard goats.

But, as the saying goes, time heals all wounds (except those with Staph infections).  I give the first draft a day or more (if deadlines allow) to "steep" and then take a look at it again with fresh eyes.  And then a funny thing happens: it's not as horrible a monstrosity as I first thought.  It's ok - ok in that first-drafty kind of wonky way.  And so was my marathon.  No one's first draft is a masterpiece just as no one's first marathon is their finest physical performance.  Both feats are trials - testing the waters, so to speak.  Then you go and prove to yourself you can actually stick it out and finish and no matter how slow you run or how ugly your first draft is, you finished SOMETHING and you also now have something to fall back on - the hard part is over. 

So, I'm letting my legs rest and recover and I have a first draft tucked away on my laptop.  I'll revisit both running and writing this week as soon as I fight off those fierce guard goats. 

P. S.

OK, here's a post-script to what I was talking about yesterday: the "hate phase" of writing.  Karen Russell, author of the Pultizer-nominated novel Swamplandia! has a wonderful take on this phase (and a little less negative than mine), as seen in her interview by BookBrowse.  In this interview, Karen is asked how it was to write her first novel.  She answers:

"It's such hard work and it also feels ridiculous to me sometimes, all the effort that it takes - like, why can't you get some imaginary people to do something interesting? You invented these fools, why can't you make them behave?"

I just think that's wonderful.  That's all.  Also, I need to learn more about alligators.

On Writing: A Comparison to the Marathon Part 2 of 3

Over-training

My marathon is this coming Saturday.  Like, in 5 days.  I'm freaking out.  Just thought you'd like an update.

Me. Right now.

But, to continue the thread from last post, I'd like to further compare marathon training to writing.  There is a concept in long distance running called over-training.  Over-training happens when an athlete doesn't allow enough recovery time between running days.  The body responds in insidious ways, such as decreased performance, constant muscle fatigue, crabbiness, and even athletic regression.  Curiously enough, different people experience over-training in different ways and there's not one good field test to confirm that yes, you're suffering from over-training. 

I started to experience over-training about a month and a half ago.  We were about 7 weeks out from race date (March 16, by the way) and I couldn't keep up with the group.  Then I couldn't make it up the hills.  Then my legs were on fire.  Constantly.  And I was wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

After entering the mandatory internet search to self-diagnose my problems, article after article listed my symptoms as over-training. Turns out the best thing to do for over-training is to NOT TRAIN.  So I took a week off. 

I dare to compare some parts of the writing process to the concept of over-training.  Not that you could ever write too much and drain your ability to produce verbiage (as if we were all giant metal tanks of words that, when empty, well, you were empty), but that when mired deep in a particular project, you may feel yourself losing your way or unable to keep up with your previous creative fire.  

When I write anything really over 2,000 words, I go through a love-hate-love cycle.  At first, I LOVE the idea - I am a writing genius!  Every word is pure gold!  Then, I get stuck in the drudgery of actually finishing the piece, and editing.  And I HATE it.  It's crap.  All of it.  This part doesn't make sense, a 5 year old could write that paragraph better - hell, my dog could write it better.  This part of the process, to me, is sometimes like over-training.  This part makes me crabby and makes me feel like I've regressed as a writer.  It's about being too critical of a first draft and sometimes even too negative when it comes to the purity of the creative process.  It's a dangerous place and like over-training, if not recognized and dealt with properly, can lead to serious damage. 

If you're an athlete and ignore the signs of over-training, a few things could happen.  You could get injured.  Also, you could burn out.  Most cataclysmic of all, both of these things could happen at the same time.  If you're a writer in this hate phase, you could listen to your inner demons and quit. And quitting is the worst thing a writer can do.  Well, except for plagiarism.  That's probably worse. 

But, like getting out of over-training, finding your way out of the hate phase comes down to taking some time away, at least for me.  Even a day's break from a project to let it "set" helps me come back with fresh eyes, eyes that aren't so critical as they were the day before.  And what's nice is that after that hate phase, there's another love phase.  After a break, I sometimes come back to a project and think: wow!  That's not too bad! Or at least not as bad as I first thought!  And that's a much better place to be. 

Cheesy ending, folks. Deal with it.

So, what I'm trying to say, and remind myself of, is that writing, like running, can be hard, but working through the tough bits to the finish is rewarding in the end.  I'll be trying to remember these very words on Saturday, as I'm around Mile 19 of the marathon.  I'll let you know how it goes.


PS: don't despair.  After this stupid marathon, it's back to more vet stuff, I promise.