Squeezing time

For those of you with busy days and big lists of things to do, squeezing time is nothing new.

It is all because we want to have accomplished something by the end of the day that we resort to things like this. Finding 5 minute pockets of time to scribble some notes, dragging ourselves out of bed before sunrise to get an hour of creative work in before heading out to work, sitting at our desk during lunch to draw something.

This is making the most of our precious time everyday and with it comes an urgency that is often absent when you do find yourself in front of your blank canvas with time on your hands.

Do I have writers block when I know I have 25 minutes on a train? No, I have a list.

Do I have trouble coming up with the right image? No, I keep sketching until something clicks.

At the end of the day, I have created a little more than I had the day before. Over time, this will become something born of squeezed, stolen, seized and savored time.

For those of us with pursuits larger than our scheduled time slots, this is the best and only way to make a creative life.

Reintention

I am overjoyed that it is not my job to be responsible for creating new stuff. If it was up to me to invent the radio, stretch velveteen or the piano, the world would be a dark and terrible place. All the good stories have already been written. There is nothing new under the sun. According to Mark Twain, Adam was the only man who could say something good knowing nobody had said it before.

Which leaves everyone who has a creative soul a very different purpose. Yes, you are the sum of every response, thought, idea and emotion of your life walking this earth and the art you make is an expression of all of that. But the more noble reintention of your creative work is that of connecting other people, the rest of the world, with those stories that have already been told. How you tell those stories is your creative work, how you arrange, select, restitch and reshape a story as old as time but as true for people today as it was for Adam is your art whether that is a book, a dance or a mural that covers the side of a skyscraper.

Be a maestro by holding up a mirror.

Kits

There are a lot of people who have created an industry around preparing for disaster. They are the ones who always have extra batteries for their high beam flashlights and emergency kits in their cars. They have all of their papers filed neatly in a waterproof safebox, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. They watch the tides and track hurricane patterns. In the event of a natural catastrophe, they’re pretty OK.

There are less people concerned about preparing for success. As if success, once it happens, is something we don’t need to be concerned about. Every prodigy violinist that burns out, every literary darling who crashes and burns, every CEO who tumbles from the top is proof there should be some kind of preparation for success.

Here’s a few things you’ll need in your kit:

A sense of gratitude

A good friend or two who knew you when you were nobody

A commitment to get 8 hours of sleep every night no matter what

A willingness to look stupid

Batteries optional.

The Strange Life of a Handmade Gift

Sky’s gloves

This year, I have a new left hip. 

That is 2 pounds of titanium and porcelain settling into my body and taking its sweet time doing it.

Which means no driving or shopping for me this holiday season. Which means I get to pick up my knitting needles and make something for my loved ones.  The ones who will not be getting gift certificates or other impersonal yet so convenient online gifts simply because I am going to give them a truly personal and handmade present.

I am persistent, not stubborn which something I am accused of often. Making things by hand takes a lot of time, which I happen to have a lot of at the moment, but still, you could be doing other things. 

Even when the gifts I’ve made end up in strange places, I keep on knitting.

Take this text message conversation I had recently with my son for example:

Hey mom, how do I get bloodstains out the gloves

Why do I always get the weirdo questions? Soak them in either seltzer or white vinegar. And no more acts of violence while wearing mommy’s gloves!

Thanks!! And no promises

How are your gloves?

Haven’t washed them yet

But I still wear them everyday

WHAAAT????

I have finals! No time for glove cleaning ūüôĀ

OK we’ll have a post final glove decontamination activity!

Franco stole my gloves and washed dishes with them

NOOOOOOO!!!!! Are they clean? The gloves, not the dishes

They better be

He only did it for groupme likes

What is that?

A way to measure how cool u are in the frat

He better win. I mean, we better win!

Don’t take his side

Mom!!! I lost the gloves!!! can you please make me another pair

And the saga oft he gloves continues…well, OK

Nevermind i found them!!!

Whew!!!!!

Could u make a pair for 2 of my friends? They really want a pair

Reeeaallllly? a pair of gloves knit by you Sky’s mommy?

They’re so comfy and everyone compliments them

Do I get a video of them wearing them saying how fabulous they are???

Of course!

Dealio! can i make them in a different color like blue?

Yes

Tell them I recommend they avoid bleeding and washing dishes with them

With great gloves comes great responsibilities

Amen and may the force be with you

The Most Important Thing A Writer Should Never Forget

Iris Chang

This article originally appeared in Huffington Post.

She was a force.

As I looked at her 2 books, The Thread of the Silkworm and The Rape of Nanking, I felt small and foolish sitting among a pile of old photographs from my own family history.

Many people have spoken of the tenacity, brilliance and compassion that drove Iris Chang, an American author and journalist best known for her best-selling 1997 account of the Nanking Massacre, The Rape of Nanking, to achieve so much in her short life. She was a thinker, someone who dreamed big and accomplished even greater things driven by a passion to tell a story that needed to be told.

“Civilization is tissue thin,” Iris wrote. She called this the most important lesson to be learned from the tragedy of Nanking. And she believed her research produced irrevocable proof of Japanese atrocities. She wrote:

“After reading several file cabinets’ worth of documents on Japanese war crimes as well as accounts of ancient atrocities from the pantheon of world history, I would have to conclude that Japan’s behavior during World War II was less a product of dangerous people than of a dangerous government, in a vulnerable culture, in dangerous times, able to sell dangerous rationalizations to those whose human instincts told them otherwise.”

The book hit the stores at Christmas, a tough selling season for serious nonfiction. It became a surprise best-seller. A groundswell of interest in the Chinese American community had quickly spread to booksellers and the broader reading public. Newsweek ran an excerpt, and soon Iris was a familiar face on TV news shows. Reader’s Digest devoted a cover story to her. ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬†

from SFGate

Like others who were in awe of her as a confident young woman who excelled at everything she put her mind to, I feel my attempts to write anything are futile. Especially stories that are rooted in our shared Chinese American background.

Would my stories have the ferocious yet compassionate lens on a human experience?  Could I create something as resonant for my reader?

Something that has the power to comfort the troubled, and trouble the comfortable?

It would be very easy to give up and take up knitting.  To brush off the demon who is dancing on my shoulder daring me to write my story.  To turn away from the story I have been longing to tell.

But I know I won’t because my belief in my story is as strong as Iris Chang’s belief in hers. ¬†She knew how words could bring to life the silent narratives of people with no voice.¬†And that we have to write them.

That is what I tell myself when I sit down to write.

I often wonder if the stars feel like this when the sun rises.

Do they think, “Oh great, now that he’s here we might as well fizzle out. ¬†Who’s going to even see us?”

But sunrise happens everyday.  And so does sunset, which is followed by a dusk, twilight and yes, the stars.  The light of the stars at that moment has its own magic and wonder.

If any of you have ever felt like this, rekindle the passion you have for the story inside of you until it burns bright with an inner flame and tell it.

You may not be a snowflake, but you can dream of being a star.

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About the Author: Hoong Yee Lee Krakauer helps artists & creative people grow their careers with great grant writing strategies & mindsets she has developed over 15 years as an veteran grant panelist, grant maker & grant writer. Get her FREE Master Grant Strategy Worksheet and a weekly dose of insights from a grant reviewer’s point of view.

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