Month: September 2023

Be the Gateway

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Over the years, my writing goals have changed. At first, I just wanted to write. Back in elementary school I wrote short stories with girls named Jill and Amy. Names that weren’t also shared with a character in Peter Pan or a fast-food hamburger place.

A bit older, and I experimented with poetry and found myself trying to write poems about the moon, like a giant silver dollar so bright, up in the sky.

Then I moved on to nonfiction, writing pieces about things that happened to me. I discovered the personal essay before I learned its name, and since college, I have only written personal essays. 

Once I knew what I wanted to write, I wanted to be published which isn’t unique to me. Publication is a worthy goal, shared by many writers. 

However, I soon learned publication isn’t enough. I wanted my published personal essays to be read. I wanted to reach readers — to make them smile, or pause and reflect. To touch a reader with my words was, is, a gift. 

But that connection with a reader can only happen if I identify my intended audience, my ideal readers, and they have access to my writing.

Be the Gateway: A Practical Guide to Sharing Your Creative Work and Engaging an Audience by Dan Blank is exactly what it sounds like. A book whose purpose is to provide steps and suggestions for sharing your creative work and having a meaningful connection with your audience. 

Mr. Blank’s book isn’t just for writers. It’s for artists and creators of any kind who are looking to share their art and creations.

Mr. Blank and his company, We Grow Media, are all about human-centered marketing. I have taken a few of his webinars and found them to be quite helpful. 

I won’t go into the specifics, but I would like to share a few of the passages that spoke to me, passages that I think are broad and general enough to speak to many of my readers as well:

“Instead of framing the value of your work by how it performs in the market, you define it by how other people experience the world through your creative work — the stories and experiences you share, and the topics you talk about.”

“It is about understanding the connection between what you create, why you create it, and how it will engage others.”

“When you share your journey, you are building advocates in the process; those who aren’t just aware of what you are doing, but feel connected to it in a personal way.”

“So much of success is about sheer persistence, and believing in yourself and your work.”

“Tennis legend Arthur Ashe once said, ‘To achieve greatness, start where you are, use what you have, do what you can.’ “

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

My Current Reality Scares Me

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
My son and I at the National Portrait Gallery during our Washington, D.C. trip this summer.

During the last several months, I have come to a difficult-to-accept realization. Physically, I am not doing well. Honestly, this may be the worst I have felt for a considerable length of time, not counting the times immediately after a medical procedure (like my muscle biopsy). 

Last year, on our family trip to Maui, I reluctantly agreed to use a wheelchair in the airports. A good friend had advised me not to waste my legs walking through an airport and standing in line at security. She was absolutely right. But there was no question that I would walk, hike, and participate in everything my husband and son wanted to do — including parasailing and zip lining with my son.

This year, though, not only did I use a wheelchair in the airports, I also rented one to use during our summer trip to Washington, D.C. 

Since our July D.C. trip, there have been two other occasions when having a wheelchair would have made my life a lot easier. One was seeing Return of the Jedi in Concert at the Hollywood Bowl. The other was attending Back-to-School Night at my son’s high school. Both occasions were incredibly painful for me. Both occasions left no doubt that my legs can no longer do what, up until this point, they have been able to do.

A decade ago, I retired from teaching. And I think one of the reasons I have held on so tightly to all my other roles, all my I’ve-always-done-it, of-course-I’ll-still-do-it instances is because I’m terrified of having to give up something else. I am so frightened that my physical disability is worsening and the invisibility aspect of it will soon no longer exist,  and there will be no doubt in someone’s mind if they see me park in a handicapped parking space that I do indeed need that spot. 

I don’t know if this is true. No one does. In October, I’m scheduled to begin treatment for my knee that may (or may not) help my overall left leg pain. 

Meanwhile, each day feels a bit like an endurance test. A test I’m scared I won’t pass.  

It’s Pain Awareness Month

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
This picture was taken in July 2023, when our family was in Washington, D.C. I was super excited to explore the National Air and Space Museum, a museum I had wanted to visit since I was an elementary school student. And if you look closely, you’ll see I’m using my rented wheelchair as a walker. I didn’t cancel this trip because of my pain, because for me, that was “not an option.” (Taken from the famous words “Failure is not an option” spoken by Gene Kranz during the Apollo 13 Mission.)

September is Pain Awareness Month.

I’ve written about Pain Awareness Month before, last year in 2022 and back in 2021. 

This year, though, I don’t know what I can write that is new or offers a fresh take on chronic pain. I think that’s largely because I have been trying to deal with increasing pain. Basically, my pain is worse — in intensity and in location. (For many years, pain was limited to my left calf. That is no longer the case. Now, it’s my left calf, my left thigh, both knees, and since about two weeks ago, my left foot.)

This could very easily be a glass-is-half-empty type of blog post. 

But it’s not.

Because my son (now a sophomore in high school) shared something with me the other day that I think is defining worth writing about here.

On the drive home from school, my son told me about what he had to do that day during his Physical Education class. The laps around the track he ran. The stadium stairs he had to climb up and down, up and down, multiple times. 

By the time class was done, he was super uncomfortable. Sweaty. Slightly out of breath. All of which is to be expected.

“I know it’s not the same thing, but my knees were really hurting. It was hard to get dressed and then climb the stairs to my next class. And it made me think that this must be like what it is for you. But like, all the time,” he said. 

And I think my son’s comments truly illustrate the concept of Pain Awareness. No one can ever truly know my pain, but me. But this connection my son made, this attempt at putting himself in my shoes, was a beautiful gift he gave me. 

This Was a Big Deal for Me

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Something happened a few weeks ago that I haven’t told anyone about. 

Until now.

A few Saturdays ago, I came in from watering the plants on our back patio. (Just to paint the picture — we don’t have a hose out back. Watering the plants requires multiple trips in and out of the house, filling up two watering cans in our kitchen, carrying them outside, back in the house for refills, and so it goes.)

I came back inside after I had watered the last of the plants, and thought to myself, “I feel awful and I haven’t even done anything.”

But what happened next was not part of my usual pattern. Because immediately after that thought, a new thought entered my mind.

“That’s not true. I’ve done a lot.”

And as I put the yellow/green watering can on top of the refrigerator and the smaller, red watering can on the shelf near the refrigerator, I started mentally listing all I had done in the few hours I’d been awake.

Made the bed.

Made breakfast for myself and my son.

Emptied the dishwasher, with my husband’s help.

Got dressed. 

Shredded papers and old bills.

Took out the trash and recycling.

Swept the patio.

Watered the plants.

That pause in my regularly-scheduled-programming — the internal loop that usually plays about my limited stamina and my increased pain — was, is, huge. It’s a sign that I have been working on myself. That I am actively trying to take better care of myself. Because while I know all about drinking water and trying to get enough sleep and taking my meds on time, the mental part of taking care of myself has been more difficult for me.

So I share all this in this week’s blog post because I am proud of myself. My therapist will know what a big deal this was, this is, for me. 

I’m also sharing because I know how much it means to me to come across a piece of writing that speaks of this hard, hard experience of living with a chronic illness and chronic pain. When I read a personal essay that I connect with, that makes me think Yes, That. Absolutely that, I feel less alone in this isolating world of invisible illness. 

It’s my hope this post can be that piece of writing for someone else.