Putting the Slut Monkeys to Bed or How I Defeated My Internal Editors

             

                                                       

I used to call my internal editor "Mom" but I realized recently that I have more than one internal editor and they sure aren't Mom! So now I was facing internal editors that were telling me I'm no good, no one wants to read what I write and why bother, as well as editors saying "That word? Why in the world are you using that word?" and "Shouldn't you use a semi-colon there and hey, you're not supposed to use any exclamation marks." And the worst one wasthe one that kept telling me I can get to it later.

There were so many of these bothersome things I knew I couldn't name them all and keep them straight in my head. And I knew if I called one of them by the wrong name, it would get all huffy and give me an even harder time. In desperation one day, I screamed "Would all of you slut monkeys please go find another corner?" It shut them up for a few minutes but then they were back in force. But now I had a name for those pesky internal editors – Slut Monkeys.

But I still had no idea how to shut them up until I truly needed them, when it was time to edit my first drafts, and second, and third. I tried to appease them by telling them they are welcome to hang around but aren't to bother me until I invited them. They just laughed and turned up the volume.

I resorted to listening to the monkey that advocated procrastination. The TV had something interesting on and I'd write later. I really did need to see if Amazon had posted any more free Kindle books I wanted to download. My ideas could wait until after… You name it, the monkey found some reason to talk me into NOT writing. The monkey was winning and it knew it.

Then one day, on a whim, I pulled out the writing prayer beads my partner, Lisa, bought me for Christmas a few years ago. I carry them with me everywhere I go and pull them out and lay them across the top of the keyboard when I write. But on this day, I held them in my hand and did a guided meditation, moving my hand from bead to bead as I named my intentions for the day – none of which had anything to do with writing.

When I finished I realized I had gone deeper than I had for a long time and wondered if the beads had anything to do with it. I mentioned the phenomenon to a friend who also meditates and she admitted she uses prayer beads all the time – different ones for different types of meditation and prayer. She asked me why none of my intentions were about writing and I was at a loss. After considerable thought I realized it was the slut monkeys' fault. They had intimidated me into believing I wasn't truly a writer.

"Nonsense," my friend said. "Meditate with the intention of writing as soon as you're done and let me know what happens."

The next day I followed my friend's advice and low and behold the monkeys left me alone. I could almost hear them snoring in the background. In calming my mind, I also calmed them and they were able to rest up to bother me later about something that had nothing to do with writing.

Now meditation with the intention of writing is a part of my writing preparation. When I take a shortcut and don't meditate, the monkeys rejoice and are they ever loud in their partying.

Will meditation put your slut monkeys to rest, at least temporarily? I don’t know. You'll have to try it for yourself. But it works for me and not just for writing. I try to find time to quiet my mind before tackling any kind of task that uses a lot of brain cells. I'm able to concentrate and be much more productive without the monkeys' constant yammering that I'm doing it wrong and shouldn't even be trying in the first place.

So what do you do to prepare to write? Any routines, superstitions, must dos for you?

Poetry

I am in poetry writing mode. In fact, I've written three in three days - some kind of record for me I'm sure. It started when http://www.creative-writing-now.com sent me a free gift of a Sestina Poetry tool. I'd never heard of Sestina Poetry. Here's a definition from http://poetry.about.com/od/poeticforms/g/sestina.htm: The sestina is a challenging form in which, rather than simply rhyming, the actual line-ending words are repeated in successive stanzas in a designated rotating order. A sestina consists of six 6-line stanzas, concluding with a 3-line “envoi” which incorporates all the line-ending words, some hidden inside the lines. The prescribed pattern for using the 6 line-ending words is: 1st stanza 1 2 3 4 5 6 2nd stanza 6 1 5 2 4 3 3rd stanza 3 6 4 1 2 5 4th stanza 5 3 2 6 1 4 5th stanza 4 5 1 3 6 2 6th stanza 2 4 6 5 3 1 envoi 2--5 4--3 6--1 My curiosity was peaked and off I went. Follows are the three poems - each quite long, but I feel well worth the read.

Beach Comfort The world of the waves sweeps over the wide smooth sand along which I stroll, barefoot, bucket in hand, fingers picking up sea shells, heart and soul seeking comfort as the waves roll back and then in again, refreshed. I find my thoughts roll around, far from refreshed moving through my emotions, waves and waves of emotion, refusing comfort. I look at the endless expanse of sand Stretching in front of me, shells Scattered through the footprints left by barefoot children and adults. They walk barefoot along the beach, hoping to be refreshed as they collect the shells that roll in at the mercy of the waves. My heart shifts like the sand blown before the wind. Why is comfort so elusive? I need to find comfort here where the barefoot children run in the sand and their parents are refreshed as they play together in the waves. Is the comfort I seek found in the shells? Does the comfort live in the shells? Or am I responsible for finding my own comfort, not allowing others to steal it and throw it in the waves to wash out to sea, leaving me barefoot and alone? I am suddenly refreshed by that thought. I dig my toes in the sand and laugh, laugh, laugh as the sand buries my feet, tiny sea shells tumbling and tumbling. Refreshed I turn to leave, knowing I find comfort in my own heart, in my own soul. Barefoot I wade back through the waves. I kick the loose hot sand as I walk home, comfort warming my heart, sea shells rattling in my bucket. Barefoot I realize I am refreshed, like the never ending waves. written 4/11/2011

What Do We Remember? When we were young we had no idea what old was. But that was yesterday, and now it’s today and old is no longer tomorrow. Young is in our memories. What are our memories? In the bright light of the young, it seems memories are only for tomorrow. The light in the eyes of the old shine brightly today as they remember the events of yesterday. It was just yesterday that so many memories were formed to be remembered today. What did we do when we were young that we’re proud of now that we’re old? We’ll know when tomorrow comes. We wait for tomorrow with bated breath, ruing yesterday when we thought we’d never be old. But now our memories from when we were young haunt us today. What will happen today that we’ll hold onto for tomorrow? When we were young we forgot about yesterday, trusting we would have the memories to sustain us when we are old. Now we are old and what happens today will be precious memories that we’ll share tomorrow and wish we remembered yesterday, the yesterday when we were young. What is it to be old and know that tomorrow will soon be today, and then will be yesterday, and that our memories are only of when we were young? written 4/12/2011

The Ritual of Tea The sun rises, ready for its cup of tea. The morning ritual begins with the rich aroma of the tea brewing, quiet in the warm teapot, meditation of tea leaves melding with water, sensual coupling like the sensual dance of sun and moon. Tea poured, eyes closed in meditation, heart and soul ready for the ritual of the refreshing quiet, steam rising full of the heady aroma. The morning fills with the aroma of bodies moving in a sensual dance of partnership. They quiet and return to their tea, and return to their ritual, and return to their meditation. The bliss of joy reaches through meditation even as the aroma of the tea follows its ritual and calls forth the sensual awakenings. Hot tea sipped slowly, helps quiet the soul. Once quiet the soul can once again approach meditation. The heart finds joy in the tea, leaping in anticipation as the aroma rises, swirls and twirls, sensual and serene. The ritual of the tea prepares for the ritual of the day, a day no longer quiet, a day when the sensual is lost and no amount of meditation can bring it back. The aroma is of busyness and stress, not of tea. The evening ritual begins with meditation, finding the quiet even as the aroma, the loving sensual aroma rises from the cup of tea. written 4/13/2011

I'd love to hear what y'all think. Feel free to comment here or leave a comment on my website or on Facebook. Thanks for reading!

1000

That's a large number in some instances and a small one in others. In this instance it almost seems overwhelming.

I've been challenged to list 1000 things that make me smile or laugh, that make me shiver with happiness and/or excited anticipation, that make me thankful.

The list should cover the minute parts of my being, from breathing to shoes on my feet. And it should cover the daily things like food on my table and the softness of my cat's furr. And, of course, the big things - Lisa in my life, my kids, my health, my job, etc etc etc.

I've tried keeping a gratitude journal in the past and failed. I didn't fail because I didn't have anything to be thankful for but because I went about it in a way that didn't work for me. Each time before I bought a seperate journal for the gratitude list, seperate from the one I carry with me 24/7 and write in whenever the urge comes upon me. Having a second book to carry was a pain. And I kept forgetting to write in it.

So this time I'm combining my list of things I'm grateful for, things that make me laugh and smile, in my 'normal' journal. I number my list so I can see how far along I am on this challenge (81 right now), but I do it in the body of the journal. No special pages; I'm not changing colors of ink; I'm just throwing it in there.

And this time I think I'll be successful.

Back to that number - 1000. How many of us look around and truly realize how much we have to be thankful for? How many things make us laugh and smile and anticipate something good or exciting to happen? Why do we remember to say thank you to someone who does something nice for us but we forget to thank ourselves or the Universe (God, Goddess, angels, whoever your higher power is) for the so-called mundane things? I'm learning to appreciate the fact we have paved roads to drive on, the remote control to the TV, flushing toilets, the things we usually take for granted.

I challenge you to join me on this journey. Start now. Write down one thing, just one, that you are grateful for. Then, later, add another and another. You'll be amazed at how listing the things you are grateful for and that make you happy can almost instantly change a bad mood to a good one.

Thank you, dear readers, for reading this rambling post.

Rest In Peace

My ex-father-in-law passed away Saturday. This is written in memoriam:

Rest in Peace
Virgil Leroy Poulter
March 27, 1927 – June 26, 2010

Virgil, you were one of the most intelligent, caring, giving funny people I have ever known. Your quick wit brought many smiles, as did your wonderful limericks. You were always loving and accepting. Your love for Joana, your kids and kids-in-law and especially for your grandchildren shone bright. Our memories will keep that light alive in our hearts. Thank you for all you did and all you gave. You are already greatly missed.

Spring/Summer Contest

In my perfect world, a day would not pass that I didn’t feel warm sand between my toes, hear the ocean’s timeless call, feel the sea breeze on my face, taste the salt in the air and find the most wonderful seashells. I would watch the waves for dolphins feeding and playing and wonder what it would be like to be a mermaid, swimming at their side.

I love to walk the beach as the tide recedes, leaving behind the sea’s most wondrous gifts. Scallops and whelks and auger, angel wings and moon snail’s and olive shells all wait to be discovered and added to my ever-growing collection. It’s especially nice to find conch shells or helmets, but those are few and far between.

To celebrate spring and summer and beach time, I’m giving away an autographed copy of my book, Welcome Home, and a bag to carry it and your suntan lotion in. Just find the seashells scattered through my website (some on almost every page), count them, and send me a guestbook entry or use the form on the front page with the number of shells you found and your favorite page you found some on. Be sure to include your email address. On my birthday, June 15, I’ll ask my handsome son-in-law to draw a name to win the bag and the book. The entries with the closest number of seashells actually on my website will be entered in a second drawing for a surprise gift.

While you’re looking for seashells, stop long enough to enjoy the photographs, artwork, short stories and poetry found on their respective pages. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, critiques along with your contest entry.

Good luck and have fun seashell seeking!

Our Favorite Bookstores contest

www.GlendaPoulter.com is proud to announce the "Our Favorite Bookstores" contest. Tell us about your favorite brick and mortar independent bookstore. Each store will be featured on the "Our Favorite Bookstores" page and will receive a poster proclaiming to the world they are one of "Our Favorite Bookstores." Each entrant will be entered to win a Welcome Home tote bag and an autographed copy of Welcome Home. If you already own the book I have another goody for you.

Let's support our local independent businesses, especially the bookstores.

Contest

It's that time again! I'll be sponsoring a new contest at my website - www.GlendaPoulter.com - starting Sunday, March 14. Check for details of how to win a book bag and an autographed copy of Welcome Home.