Tag Archives: #writing

Alexandra Dane, Be big., Believe in yourself, We need to talk.

“We were born with the power on.”

@lovestephaniegreene

When I am on this coast, writing by the Atlantic ocean, I live in a small historic town in a small 1864 house where historic is everything. This has it’s ups and downs as ever-changing committees impose rules that can cost a fortune (read: wooden gutters, single pane windows, permission needed for architectural changes seen from the street) and are never practical — but they are HISTORIC.

I attended a block party last weekend and found out fiberglass gutters and double-paned windows will now be allowed, exactly a year after we replaced both under the old historic guidelines. I am not complaining, just tired. Tired of current committees upending last years rules, being wrong-footed trying to find and use information and resources.

Oh. This sounds familiar.

The Big Beautiful Bill has just staggered through the Senate and lurches towards the House, fast and furiously putting us out of health care options, food programs desperately needed, and medical care. We barely had time to read the bill before it slammed through wreaking havoc. I am collecting voices and information, want to speak with me?

I spent a good portion of my life trying to be small: small voice, small body, small thoughts, small clothes. Look alike, don’t unsettle the norms, squeeze into the outfits that everyone else is wearing. Let me tell you that can only go on for so long before everything bursts and especially me: I am not small. My writing life has not busted anything apart but grown me up and out and beyond small — it feels good to fill a space with who I am and also just saying: loose linen. As my writing builds momentum I have found a community who loves my ‘on’ button and are not offended or threatened by it. You should also know that in the last ten years when I expand/explore/take risks I have both succeeded and spectacularly failed. The current in me just gets stronger. Do I really want written in my obit ‘she could have done so much more?”

What a waste of energy, tamping it all down.

So here we are. Have you thought about what you will do to help? On a community level, we are making prayer shawls at a furious rate. On a personal level I am gathering woman friends for afternoon time — sort of a ‘fika’ concept, once a week. We pool our resources — mental and emotional, no criticism, bipartisan, open and affirming. We sit. We heal. From the ground up. Recently, there have been root beer floats, too.

We need to talk. Bring yourself.

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#amwriting, #STOP, Healing, Health, Memoir

STOP!

On January 10 2024 I shot out of the gate full of fire and resolve, the fabulous holidays behind me, a mighty suitcase full of essentials headed down the baggage carousel. Workshops and writing groups were ahead in Seattle. Two hours: that was all it took for my suitcase to destroy my left arm, deltoid and neck while pushing the heavy bag up the Bainbridge Island ferry ramp. Unbelievably I was faced with a change of plan.

I spent a long time setting up this particular winter/spring; dates in the calendar written in pen, submissions, sign-ups, advance emails for groups meetings. The Orthopedic took a picture a day later, stated there were no tears and I needed rest, massage and muscle relaxants. I had planned to be in a two-day immersive that first week, join a gym, walk five miles a day. I could not get dressed, lift my arms to brush/wash/clip my hair or look at a screen. Full stop.

I don’t do “change of plan” well in any condition so I persevered/struggled; propped books and my iPad on a large pillow. Slept upright. Took less meds be clear of mind. Tried walking smaller walks more often. Every had neck spasms? I do not wish them on anyone. Until my cousin in her ultimate wisdom, hearing me whimper getting out of a chair, put her hands out and barked “STOP!”

I stayed in my pajamas that day. Got refunds for the workshops. Called for a cortisone shot and advice. Sat in the steam room every day. Lifted nothing but a teacup. Who stops in January? Prior to leaving I had cleaned the garage for five days, lifting everything, tirelessly making room for the new. That was just the first five days. It never occurred to me to stop until my body spoke up, something like hey girl, hair on fire, enough.

It worked.

For a tangle of reasons I am moving fast, for one my goal to have the memoir collection outlined soon. I was crushed that I simply could not function. But here is what happened, mostly during the sleepless and uncomfortable nights; my mind engaged. I wrote some great lines. Solved some tricky transitions. Fleshed out some characters. And not a letter was written down. The big picture was just that — a picture that I actually needed to have in this process.

Here I sit typing (yeah) and thinking and finally back online with some update on my silences. Have I learned anything? Hopefully.

How do you stop? Did you know we need to?

Richard Stine, Bainbridge Island Museum of Art.

Alexandra Dane writes what lies deep in the marrow of our bones: life, disease, memory and hope — always hope. Winner of the Annie Dillard Creative Non Fiction award from The Bellingham Review this year, Alexandra Dane is also published in River Teeth and San Fedele Press’s American Writers Review. Her manuscript-in-progress explores coming of age, twice, at the mercy of cancer; once as a young caregiver for her mother and then as a patient herself. Her blog, http://www.alexandradanewrites.com explores the tiny big things that happen. She knits to think.

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