Word Equations

“Taking time to appreciate three beautiful moments in your day instead of one can be extremely meaningful. In my mom’s famous words, let’s make the most of our time here.

Paris Rosenthal

You know how algebra includes letters with numbers? (I was never good at algebra.) These equations require words. The idea comes from Paris Rosenthal’s book, Project 1. 2. 3. A Daily Creativity Journal for Expressing Yourself in Lists of Three. Write a list of three, prompts are provided, every day. It was a project she continued resulting from her late mother’s work, children’s author Amy Krouse Rosenthal. She posted her list at 1:23 p.m. every day and began the project on 12/3. Her intention was to post for 123 days, but due to her illness, she stopped on day 61.

Like all other things requiring daily discipline to maintain, I faltered and only completed a few pages. Picking up the book for inspiration this afternoon, I took a look at previous entires (I got the book in 2019) and found this one titled Creative Calculations with the following:

__________x__________ = __________

__________+__________ = __________

____________________ = __________

My responses on 11/7/19

ideas x solitude = creativity

pen + journal= story

reading – social media = ideas

Today’s responses:

stories + Spotify = podcast

shopping x teen – money = thrifting

(observation + blog) x (community + comments) = SOL

I don’t know if I’ll continue to go through the book every day. I most certainly won’t have my list completed by 1:23 p.m. because I’ll be bogged down with a million other things at that time. I can toss it in my bag. If I get to it, fine, if not, the world moves on. However, I plan to pop in and use it as needed. At the bottom of each page, there’s space to document the date, which my brain likes for keeping track.

Thank you, Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Paris, for brining this project to life, and helping us focus on gratitude and creativity with simple lists of three.

Saturday, March 30, 2024

It’s in the Saying

“Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.”

Barbara Kingsolver

I (still) don’t have a door to close. I now have a spare room to call my own. My craft room. My “writing” room. Except I’m still perched at the end of the table in the kitchen. My writing cabinet holds the essentials: a caddy full of my favorite writing sticks, my current notebook, a planner, some books on creativity, cookbooks, mixology books, wine, and wine glasses.

I haven’t figured out what I want to say. Yet. I’m opening myself up to whatever story wants to be told as long as I’m brave enough to tell it. Julia Cameron says I need ask for guidance, and I do, but I must be blind to it. I’m a looks-too-hard type of person, making things harder than they need to be. I also like simplicity, so maybe it’s too simple because I thrive on complexity.

However, isn’t simple…complex? I think there’s a depth there few people are able to extract from effectively, a shallow looking pool that somehow becomes an abyss. With no one looking over my shoulder, I let whatever wants to be said, be said. Some days it’s in the saying where the figuring out happens.

Despite some changes to routines, I signed up for year four of this writing challenge. My only expectation is to show up every day. My morning pages have faltered from daily to weekends, but this will bump me back in the right direction. With spring teasing us, I’ve been sitting in the backyard under the twinkle lights, taking my pen and notebook with me, a sweater for the chill that unexpectedly curls itself around my shoulder. Half finished books on writing are opening up again. My mind is opening up again.

I’m also looking at other routines that have seemed to have slipped away. I re-assess. Are these things I need to continue doing? It’s okay to let some go and replace them with something new. Do they need replacing? I’m working on decluttering my space, but I also think decluttering my mind and responsibilities opens me up to welcome whatever comes my way. It’s acceptable to leave space wide open for a while. Why the rush to re-clutter?

This fourth year of slicing, I’ll focus on figuring out what to say. I’ll close the door behind me and enter the backyard in the evenings, before days get too hot and mosquitos feast on me. Pup will chew on mulch while sitting at my feet. I’ll start a cozy fire, careful not to accidentally pick up a lizard dwelling in the pile of wood. I’ll open my notebook and start writing whatever needs to be said.

Building Creative Stromboli

Monday, March 7, 2022

“…a calzone is like a taco and a stromboli is like a burrito. Tacos and calzones are always folded. Burritos and calzones are always rolled.”

from bon appètit, “What’s the Difference Between a Calzone and a Stromboli?” by Alex Delaney

I scroll through my Notes app and find this gem. Building Creative Stromboli. I open the note and find that I had made a note to self: It really was “Building creative stamina” 🤣. But what was it that made me write such words? Was I listening to a podcast while on my afternoon walk or in the middle of cooking dinner, but most likely not stromboli? Brenè Brown? Did it come from her? Did she say this or did she make a reference to something? Is it a book title? Is it something I want to do or am curious about doing?

Note to self: Take better notes. My phone autocorrected the original snippet of whatever my brain needed, but this time, I like the correction. Makes me think. Either way, what am I doing to build creative stamina? What is it? This SOLSC where I write for 31 days? To top it off, I’m a late night slicer (shout out to all you night owls!) so getting to my computer at the end of the day, every day for a month certainly builds those writing muscles. But I tend to get cramps. Aha! I should order a calzone or stromboli or both to get me through it.

If I’m to build creative stamina, could it mean that I need to do something besides writing? Should I make my own pizza dough (I found a great recipe I frequently use) divide it half and make a calzone for dinner one night and save the other for stromboli? Kneading dough by hand is cathartic, unleashing new ideas through the push, fold, turn, push, fold, turn motion for a good ten minutes the recipe suggests. I have about an hour to myself while the dough rises, but that usually isn’t enough for me to switch over to writing which will soon be interrupted with pizza making.

That’s as far as I’ve taken it. That dough can become any kind of pizza, but I have yet to lead it to become a calzone or stromboli. I don’t know why. I’m stuck with my favored Neapolitan style pizza because I’m a creature of habit and when I get comfortable, I don’t like to explore much.

I’ve been reading about creativity for a few years. My favorites: The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron; Steal Like an Artist, by Austin Kleon; Big Magic, by Elizabeth Gilbert. One of the ideas that keeps getting repeated is to do something else besides [insert your creative endeavor here.] To get better at writing, I need to do something other than writing. Not all of the time, of course, but when feeling stuck-making pizza dough and only making pizza-do something else. Make a calzone. Make stromboli. Or tacos. Or burritos. Play with clay and then watch it break, like I wrote about here a few weeks ago for a Tuesday Slice.

A Google search for “building creative stamina” will tell you a lot of the same things in a lot of different ways. One thing I’ve learned is to let that creativity out, even if it isn’t great. It’s better for those ideas to come out to play. Ever watch a kindergartener draw or paint a picture? They don’t care how it looks, they care about the process. They get into the zone. Like kneading pizza dough. The end result may be good, but releasing those creative bubbles is the point.

Calzones and stromboli are the culinary bonuses for late night writing sessions. Roll with it.