'Twas the Day After Thanksgiving (Reprised)

Photo by Deborah Downes

By Kim,

Thanksgiving in the Bullock household means only one thing anymore: Nutcracker!

As you read this, I am probably in wardrobe, wrestling tights and leotards onto excited, wriggling little girls and attaching halos and mouse ears.

Hence, the repeat of my poem from last year at this time:

'Twas the day after Thanksgiving, when all thro' the Eisemann,
are children so excited, you’d swear they'd won the Heisman;

The costumes are hung in wardrobe with care,
In hopes that Party Girls soon would be there;
The dancers wait impatiently in their Keds,
While visions of Dew Drops dance in their heads,
And the Sugar Plum Fairy in her tutu, and the Cavalier in his cap,
Must wait until January for their long winter's nap-
When out in the hallway there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the door to see what was the matter.
Away to the dressing rooms I flew like a flash,
Alerted the chaperones to send the Angels, and off I did dash.
They wear dresses and halos like new fallen snow,
Smiles and curls bring “awwws” from the audience below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and Unicorns instead of rein-deer,
With two drivers, Clara and the Prince,
I knew in a moment, their steps would cause no one to wince.
With the grace of ballerinas, the dancers they came,
And we pointed, and whispered, and called them by name:
"Now! Bakers, now! Pages, now! Candy Cane, and Mother Ginger,
"On, Arabians! On, Polichinelles! On Cossacks and bell dinger (?)
"To the front of the stage! To the back of the stage!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry snowflakes before the wild blizzard fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the balcony the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Nutcrackers – Clara and her Prince, too.

Hope everyone had a fabulous holiday!

P.S. I never claimed to be a poet.

A Risk Worth Taking

Sasha at 12 - Photo by Deborah Downes

By Kim,

As my daughter Sasha left ballet class a couple of weeks ago, an older dancer told her she needed to check the “to learn” list. The Nutcracker casting list had been posted, but since it was tacked to the senior company board, lowly apprentices like Sasha assumed that no one at their level would be named there.

Confused, she glanced at the list and saw “Bullock” listed as an understudy for Snow, a major routine performed by girls two levels ahead of her. Further down her name appeared again as an understudy for Waltz of the Flowers. And AGAIN for Chinese Tea, only that entry stated she gets to audition for the actual part. All of this was in addition to the two roles she had already been cast to perform.

Sasha thought there must be some mistake, but the artistic staff congratulated her. They had decided she was ready to be pushed beyond her official level.

At that moment it became apparent to our entire family that Sasha is being groomed to move up the company ranks and that her teachers, many of whom were professional dancers, see real potential in her.

After one night of elation, a new reality set in. Nutcracker season does not usually start until mid-October for younger dancers. For Sasha it started immediately with a rehearsal lasting until almost 10 PM. On a Tuesday. Thursday’s schedule was the same. Her entire Saturday became a tangle of classes and rehearsals. Overnight her hours in the studio jumped from an already grueling 10.5 hours a week to 20, and we all knew this schedule would intensify as performance time neared.

We also knew the insanity wouldn't end with the Nutcracker. She will likely be asked to learn more challenging roles for the rest of the dance season. She will almost certainly move up a level at her next audition, maybe even two by the end of the summer.

A recent example of Sasha's art

I ache as I watch my child struggle to keep up with the dance schedule, all Pre-AP homework, and the time-consuming assignments for her gifted art class. She has no life outside of these things, and she’s worn too thin to reach her full potential in any of them. She’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. We are ALL exhausted.

I also ache when I see her watching last year’s Nutcracker video to block out choreography at home. The only time she fully comes to life anymore is when she wears her beloved pointe shoes. Ballet has become a part of her soul over the last five years. Without it, she would flounder to find her way in a world that suddenly stopped making sense.

Exactly how I would feel without writing.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've questioned the moms of higher company members about how their children survive. A surprising number of them had the same solution. Find a school situation that adapts to their schedule. Virtual schools, home-schools, condensed-day schools—there are more options out there than I had ever imagined.

I was resistant to the idea at first, but one astute mom said something that especially resonated with me: “Our children are not typical teenagers. They’re focused, disciplined, and have the training schedule of Olympic athletes.”

If you told me a year ago that I would pull my daughter from a fantastic school and an art program in which she has exponentially grown, I would have scoffed. My husband would have scoffed even louder. But today we had a meeting with the director of a virtual public school and have decided to enroll her there for the remainder of 8^th grade. She can continue to develop her artistic skills with a private teacher. She can complete all her schoolwork before going to the studio. If she thrives under that system, and I suspect she will, we’ll let her continue. If not, we’ll reassess in the spring.

What does all this have to do with writing? Admittedly, not much on the surface. However, I recall thirteen years ago I took a big risk and left the corporate world to raise my children and write full time. If I hadn't done that I would have spent the rest of my life wondering if I could have made it as a writer. Not knowing would have been my greatest regret. If I can offer my child the same opportunity to follow her dreams without sacrificing the quality of her education I’ll consider it a risk worth taking.

What about you? Have you taken a great risk for your art? Have you been happy with that decision?

Inspiration From My Daughter

By Kim

As I write this, my older daughter stretches at the barre in preparation for her first class as a trainee in the pre-professional ballet company associated with her dance studio. Being chosen was a validation of talent, the first step toward being able to audition for the coveted role of Dew Drop or the Snow Queen in the Nutcracker. She had a day to celebrate, and now the real work is about to begin.

Today every first-year trainee will realize that they are no longer top of their class. Much tougher teachers will now manhandle them into position if their bellies and rears aren’t sufficiently tucked in, and may yell if corrections aren't heeded. Woe to those who may still sickle their feet or bend their leg at inappropriate times. Weekends are no longer a time of homework followed by relaxation. Instead there is more class, or company meetings, or rehearsals for productions where “newbies” like my daughter will be tucked into the background waving a rose while dancers further up the ranks take center stage.

Photo by Deborah Downes

Every trainee will happily wave that rose. They will show up to class even if injured. If the injury can be worked around, they will adapt their routine and participate. If not, they will sit in a corner and observe. They will be there if they have the sniffles, if they have a mountain of homework waiting to be done before bed, or if they just broke up with a boyfriend. 

Wait, who am I kidding? There will be no time for boys.

My daughter will do all this with a smile because she lives to dance.

Writers could learn a lot from dancers. Being chosen as a trainee is about the equivalent of finishing a manuscript. It’s a leap toward a goal, a reason to yell “squee” and treat yourself to some chocolate. It is no guarantee that you will find an agent, much less earn a publishing contract. Now comes rewriting, submitting, rejections, more rewriting, networking, deadlines, more submitting, more rejection, more rewriting.

There are days it is hard to keep smiling when “the call” has not yet come or, worse, yet another agent has passed or simply not responded to a query at all. On those days I remind myself that rejection is inevitable and out of my control, but how I react to them is up to me. Giving up would not only set a terrible example for my children, but leave me wondering who I am. I choose to do as my daughter did last year when several of her friends were chosen to join a more advanced group while she was left in her old class. She learned what she needed to improve on, showed up for rehearsal every day, and gripped the barre with new determination.

I choose the latter approach. Monday morning, after I send the children off for their first day of school, I will send out a new batch of queries while I wait to hear back on the partials and fulls that are still out there. I will also start researching for a new book, one that has been germinating in my mind for a few weeks now. It’s time, and my sanity may just depend on it.

I’m a writer. I must write again.

NaNo is Still NaNot for Me

Woodland Ford (1930) by Carl Ahrens

By Kim

Back in 2009 Pamela, Julie, Elizabeth and Susan all blogged about NaNoWriMo (short for National Novel Writing Month). Elizabeth committed to the full 50,000 words and she did it. The others (including Joan, who did not publicly weigh in) all had ambitious private goals and all made great progress.

I was the lone hold-out. I’d written a novel in three months before so, despite evidence to the contrary, I can produce words quickly. In fact, it took me ten minutes to compose a 525 word excuse about why NaNo was NaNot for me. I read it over again this morning, and much of it still applies. Here are the highlights, adjusted for 2011 circumstances.

One: I would kill myself writing 50,000 words in a month only to spend the next year rewriting 49,000 of them. Twice. I’d have plenty of time to do it because my family would no longer speak to me.

Two: According to NaNo rules, you are supposed to work on an entirely new project. I would rather hack off my own arm than abandon a novel within 10,000 words of typing The End.

Three: My office remains just as it was in 2009. Click here and feel my pain.

Four: My family members expect to eat and have clean clothes to wear.

Carl Ahrens (1890) - Color enhanced

Five: NaNo works great for writers who compose first and edit later. I write like a painter paints – in layers. Start with a sketch, add a wash or two, build up details here and there, etc. If the composition as a whole doesn’t work, I don’t want to waste my time crafting scenes that I’ll have to murder later.

Six: My protagonists are both artists, so composing like a painter makes sense.

Seven: The Oak Lovers is mainly a true story. Research is on-going and I have no control over when new details will fall in my lap. Sometimes that information changes a dynamic of the story, making revisions necessary before I move on.

Eight: I don’t want my two children asking why I spend more time with my dead great-grandparents than with them.

Nine: Who picked November? Thanksgiving break! Nutcracker rehearsals and performances! Visiting relatives! Teacher conferences and school programs! What is NOT happening this month?

Ten: Composing requires me to disengage from my life and take up temporary residence in 1920. I’ll tweak dialogue while driving Ashlyn to school or compose one of Carl Ahrens' clever insults while listening to Sasha talk about her day. Something as benign as a phone ringing can shatter my focus. My family all know I’m not “entirely here” when I’m working. It’s mentally exhausting to live trapped between centuries. If I spent a month moving directly from one chapter to another without emotionally decompressing, the men in white coats would come to cart me away by the end.

I have nothing but respect for all the writers who have committed to NaNo. I’m thrilled for the participants who post updates on the Writer Unboxed forum on Facebook. I read your posts, I cheer you on, and then tap into your creative energy to plod along on my own manuscript. My word count at the end of the day might be one zero less than the 2500 or so average I see others composing, but it is still forward progress. I am content.

How about you? Are you participating in NaNo or have you in the past? We’d love to hear your experiences.