Stuck in a Moment, or a Month
January brought many things. Writing was not one of them.
Telling stories, whether through the written word or via the visual image, is my life’s work.
In my professional career, writing allows me to gather information from diverse groups of people on various topics and synthesize it into an accessible narrative. In my personal writing here, I look for stories that accomplish the same, albeit from my point of view.
Visual storytelling is different. Sometimes all it takes is a single image to convey what you’re trying to say. More often than not, however, I take a series of photos to create a sense of place, time, or feeling.
Toggling between visual and written stories works pretty well — most of the time. I produce a lot — not in a feed the beast, 24/7 social media kind of way — but I also go through periods where my brain gets so clogged that it’s almost impossible to get anything out, even as I continue to collect content that I would like to — some say need to — share.
Take this past month, for example. January usually is a time to reset. It’s cold outside. The freelance business usually is slow. The frenzy of birthday month — at least in our household — and the holidays is over. In the past, I survive Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day because January represents a chance to regroup and think/plan for the months ahead.
But, as I’ve had to learn over and over again, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. To paraphrase U2, I feel like I’ve been “stuck in a month, and I can’t get out of it.”
Why January was a MONTH
January actually started a few days early — on Christmas Eve, in fact — when we learned Emma had booked the “Jesus Christ Superstar” tour. Combined with some unexpected freelance work, that set in motion a chain reaction of events that put personal writing on the backburner.
A brief recap:
We co-hosted a baby shower for Kate and Matt, who are expecting our first grandchild this month. Thank you to the family members — biological and extended — and friends who came from far and wide (Texas, Oklahoma, North Carolina, New York). And huge kudos to all who helped make it a memorable event for the soon-to-be parents, especially Jill, Nick, Conner, and Kate’s Aunt Jennifer.
I flew to Texas from the baby shower with my mom and Ben on my birthday. We saw Emma in the show in Houston that evening, then I took Ben on an East Texas sojourn to see where my parents grew up and to meet the few family members I have left on my dad’s side.
I shot photos for the Metropolitan School of the Arts’ spring production program — 138 headshots in five hours. After a day off, I photographed the recording of the Kennedy Center’s 50th anniversary of Broadway soundtrack, MSA students rehearsing for the Youth American Grand Prix competition, and two sets of headshots for college seniors.
I went to Wintergreen twice — once at the beginning of the month to finish a couple of freelance magazine articles and a second time to track down possible entry points for the chipmunk who decided to sublet our place when we were not there. (Said chipmunk did not pay rent but left a few scattered deposits.)
And those are just the highlights, which were followed this week by the National School Counselor of the Year events and a board meeting for Jill, a visit from Nick, and a professional MMA fight this evening for Matt that my oldest son and I will go to tonight. Next week, two more freelance stories are due.
It’s a never ending story.
The Phases of Writing
After four decades of doing this, I’ve come to realize that writing, whether it’s personal or for a client, has five distinct phases: gather, gaze, ponder, sort, process. The middle three are in no particular order, and the gathering phase can reappear in extended cameos at various points. The fifth phase — process — serves as the mold for the Jello, aka the story I’m trying to tell.
The reason I enjoy photography is that it allows me to have brief, though extremely satisfying, bursts of focus. Writing, on the other hand, requires a level of focus that is difficult at times to capture, let alone maintain. Thoughts bounce around in my brain like a bobblehead, and I equate making lists to doing my laundry. No matter how many things you wash, it’s never done.
When I’m writing, often I can see the story the same way I see an image before I try to capture it. Having that basic framework in my head, while recognizing that it’s subject to change without notice, is key to any story I attempt to tell.
Gathering is fun because it’s learning. I love to learn new and different things, but don’t get me started on the times that ADD has sent me down a rabbit hole in pursuit of a random fact. Gazing and pondering are necessary, especially if you’re trying to be thoughtful in your work, but both can be time sucks. And sorting — the mental organization of how I’m going to tell the story — is critical but perhaps the most challenging, especially when outside events or forces penetrate my thinking.
Examples of things that derailed me at least briefly in January, because of previous reporting or stories I have written:
At least six shootings were reported on school campuses, including in which two teens were killed and a man was seriously injured in Des Moines, Iowa. Three weeks ago, an elementary school teacher in Newport News, Va., was shot by a 6-year-old student.
The U.S. had more than 50 mass shootings, with 95 people killed and 229 injured. A mass shooting is defined as “four or more people, excluding the shooter, who are shot in a single event regardless of the motive, setting or number of deaths.”
A number of famous people, all of whom influenced, informed, or entertained me in some way, died during the first month of 2023. This year’s list so far includes: Lisa Marie Presley, David Crosby, Jeff Beck, Cindy Williams, Tom Verlaine, and Barrett Strong (one of Motown’s founding artists) died. As someone who has followed her life almost since she was born, Presley’s death at 54 was especially tragic.
Sorting through these things, especially when there has been so much else going on in life, has truly clogged my mind over the past month. The combination of personal gratitude and global sadness, the gathering of memories that will last a lifetime, has been difficult at times to sort through. And still I write. It’s how I process. It’s what I do.
Thank you for letting me tell my story.
Great article!