calm down
what happens
happens mostly
without you
— JOSEF ALBERS
— JOSEF ALBERS
Ready to write?
Sharpen up your pencils. Gather your pens. Dust off the Corona (not that one). And boot up the computer, because National Poetry Month begins next Wednesday, April 1.
No joke!
And National Poetry Month means, among other things, it’s time for NaPoWriMo = National Poetry Writing Month, in which we attempt, once again, to write 30 poems in 30 days! Check it out > www.napowrimo.net!
I sense a little resistance. A bit of “my poems aren’t good enough” or “my poems would never be ready for prime time in one day.” To which I say: Pshaw!
NaPoWriMo is not about perfection or polish. It’s about practice. A daily practice of sitting with your craft and watching what comes up. It’s like practicing yoga and seeing how deep you can go. Or singing scales to tune the instrument of your voice. It’s stretching so your writing muscles don’t seize up and stop working for you.
Besides, let’s be honest, you’ll have plenty of time on your chapped and over-washed hands in the next month — why not spend some of it doing something you love?
Like writing poetry.
Are you with me?
Here’s some more information if you’d like to play along.
• NaPoWriMo FAQs
• Participating Writers
• There’s a contest for that: NaPoWriMo Chapbook Contest
• They’re’ not all winners, but these are my NaPoWriMo archives
Be safe. Take care. And Happy writing!
This is my grandfather, Henry Clay Payne, posing in Okinawa, 1945. The photo was taken about a month or so before his ship was torpedoed and then sunk by a kamikaze. He was one of 152 men killed that day, four days after my Dad’s second birthday.
He’s been on my mind since I read the article “These Royal Navy Submariners Know A Thing or Two About Isolation,” by BuzzFeed correspondent Tom Warren. Blame it on the vintage, black and white navy photos, I guess — since Henry Payne was neither in the Royal Navy nor on a submarine. Still, I imagine that he — floating somewhere in the East China Sea, away from his wife and young son and daughter — might have offered up similar suggestions:
Routine, routine, routine!
“Develop a routine quickly and stick to it….This means giving yourself breaks, permission to relax, and times when you’ll focus on work.”
Exercise.
“In order to be mentally alert you need to be physically alert.”
Eat healthy.
“If you eat badly your serotonin will drop and you will go into depression.”
Start something new.
“Keep your mind active… With no commute, you’ve just cut down on a load of non-value added time. You can use it to take up a new hobby.”
Keep talking — and joking.
“Conversation is really important, it keeps you and your friends informed. Laugh at anything. At this moment when stress is high, it’s really important you don’t stress the little things.”
The other reason Henry Payne has been on my mind is that this pandemic is pretty scary stuff. Probably the scariest thing I remember, really. But my grandparents’ story reminds me that the world has faced things like this before — global crises like when Henry went to war, and my grandmother raised two young children on her own. There was fear and anxiety, isolation, and an undeniable sense that their world had changed. But they found ways to cope. All of our families found ways to cope back then. And we will too. It’s what we do, right?
So stick with a routine. Exercise and eat healthy. Keep your mind active. Keep talking, and hold on tight to that sense of humor until we see it through.
Take care.
I hope this blog post finds you safe and healthy, with a good selection of coping tools at the ready. Goodness know we need them right now.
My coping tools include reading escapist fiction, keeping creative, taking long naps, and maintaining some semblance of a normal routine with my business and my writing. If you’re like me, work offers a familiar place to settle into when the world outside is swirling too fast and crazy to recognize.
While we wait in this holding pattern, I’ll be posting regularly here on Random Acts of Writing, trying to share words of wisdom, coping strategies, and the saving grace of humor when possible.
Like this. This lovely piece of wisdom I saw online this week. During this time of social distancing and quarantines, ask yourself:
Please share your responses below in the comment field.
Here are mine:
What am I grateful for today?
I am grateful for my health and the sweet network of friends helping to keep me in the moment.
Who am I checking in on or connecting with today?
Today I have phone dates with my old college roommate Melissa and my friend Judith.
What expectations of “normal” am I letting go of today?
I try not to think about Normal right now. When it sneaks into my thoughts, I remind myself to be present and just right here.
How am I getting outside today?
Hoping to take a short walk in the woods this afternoon.
How and I moving my body today?
Yoga this morning at 4, PT exercises for my knee a little later.
What beauty am I creating, cultivating, or inviting in today?
I find I keep saying the Serenity Prayer, not so much to keep me calm, but to remind myself what I can change (me) and what I can’t change (everything else).
Please be well and stay safe.
I’ve been thinking a lot and often lately about the move Contact. You know, the classic Jodi Foster movie from the 90s based on Carl Sagan’s book?
There’s a scene towards the end of the movie when Ellie Arroway is hurtling through the wormholes of space in a contraption designed by aliens but built by humans. Built by humans who improvised on the design by welding in a secure chair and safety harness. But then Ellie accidentally lets go of her keepsake compass and watches it float gently away while she is being wracked back and forth in her chair. So she unbuckles herself. Loosens herself from the safety harness, floats up from the secure seat.
It is then, and only then, that she is gently brought to the true purpose of her journey.
The lesson of that scene has been applicable more than once in the past few months, but probably no more so than right now. Here in shadow of this worldwide pandemic, we ourselves are hurtling through new territory, wracked back and forth by the headlines, the fear, the uncertainty. Slowly changing course while wondering and worrying at this new direction.
But somewhere in all of that, we have to find a way to let go. Like Ellie, bravely let go of the familiar things on which we rely to get us through, rise up, and see what happens next.

“Sometimes you can only do one thing at a time,” a friend reassured me when I explained my recent creative hiatus.
I spent the last six months quitting smoking — that was my “one thing.” But somewhere in the recesses of my nicotine-free brain there have been whispers. gotta write. gotta create. gotta get going.
There’s writing to be done — a short story to finish, a poem to rework. There’s art to do — the journal pages, the gift for a friend. There’s the blog. the blog.
I’ve been thinking of reviving Random Acts of Writing [+art] for a while now, but only in whispers. gotta write. gotta create. gotta get going.
Maybe it was the burst of spring this week that turned up the volume on those gottas. Or was it last weekend’s monsoon rainstorm that had me channeling Gene Kelly’s Gotta Dance?
GOTTA WRITE! GOTTA CREATE! GOTTA GET GOING!
So, here we are. Random Acts of Writing [+art], two point oh. I have not worked out the kinks yet: what’s it all about? what are my intentions? All I know is — right now? — I gotta.
Here’s hoping I can do it with as much joy and enthusiasm as Gene!
Enjoy!
– Jen
• • •
©2010, Jennifer Payne