writing

Something to Endure

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
My memoir is divided into three parts.
The final essay in this part, and the book, is
"Something to Endure."

Super exciting news:  my manuscript is complete, and I will now be entering a new stage of the writing process — the querying-agents phase. 

But before I got here, when I was revising and rewriting my manuscript, I had to make a decision regarding my final essay. I had three essays that my book coach and I agreed were all possible candidates for that all-important last essay in the book.

It is my hope that my memoir will be read by those living with chronic illnesses, as well as those who know people who are living with chronic illness. I’m hoping that my story can serve as an example. Though the medical specifics may vary, the emotions may be quite similar. So someone who lives with diabetes, for example, could give my book to a loved one, point to one of my essays, and say, “Here. Read this. This is what I feel like sometimes.” 

For far too long, terms such as “disability” and “disabled” have been too narrowly defined. I really want my memoir to broaden those definitions, and I would like my story to serve as just one example of what a disabled life looks like.

When I started working with my book coach, I told her I was writing the book I needed to read when I became ill. I hope after reading my memoir that my chronically ill readers feel less alone and more understood. Along those lines, I want my final essay to give readers a sense of comfort, a dose of good-feels. 

Before making my final decision, I stopped to reflect and think about how I want my readers to feel when they’re done reading my memoir-in-essays. 

These were the adjectives that I came up with:

Hopeful.

Enlightened.

Inspired.

Comforted. 

With that in mind, I made my decision (and my book coach agrees). My final essay is titled “Something to Endure.” Because basically that is the bottom line when it comes to chronic illness. You have to endure the illness. You need to stick it out and figure out ways to handle it, to be with it day-in and day-out for the long haul.

But you don’t have to do it alone. Books, including my own, connect us.

My Word for the Year

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Photo of bright blue sky and two palm trees
Photo taken at the beach on New Year's Day 2024

Last week, I read a blog post written by writer and book coach Monica Cox. She wrote about picking a word for 2024, a word that is in sync with her goals for this year.

It got me thinking. I’ve never chosen a word for the year. Yet, as I was about to do my daily five-minute writing exercise, a word suddenly popped into my mind. A word that perfectly matches with my goals for the year — writing-related goals as well as life-related goals.

My word is Share. 

2024 is the year I will query agents, the first step in sharing my memoir-in-essays. 

An agent will then help my manuscript reach publication, which will allow my story of living with an invisible disability to be shared with readers. 

I am ready to share my story, ready to make the invisible visible.

And, there’s another way I hope to share this year. 

I am working on more openly sharing my feelings. Instead of biting my tongue and holding things in, I will try to honestly share what I’m really thinking and how I’m really feeling. 

My tendency to not always share is a result of my inclination to keep the peace, to not upset anyone. I keep so much inside, trying to pretend I’m feeling better than I am, trying my best to take care of those around me.

But, in 2024 I aim to share — my pain, my feelings, my story.

Dear Readers, do you select a word for the year? If you feel comfortable, you can “share” your word in the comments. Thank you!

My Spoonie NaNoWriMo

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

If you’re a fiction writer, or live with a fiction writer, you’re most likely familiar with NaNoWriMo, which is the abbreviation for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo takes place each November, with writers committing to work towards the goal of writing the draft of an entire novel (50,000 words) in one month. 

NaNoWriMo started back in 1999, and since then it has become a worldwide phenomenon. Writers find community, encouragement, resources, and support by participating and connecting with other writers going through the same process.

I don’t write fiction, and the sheer number of daily words required (50,000 words over 30 days works out to about 1,667 words a day) didn’t feel attainable for me, so I never participated in NaNoWriMo.

Until this year.

And it’s all because of Sandra Postma. (You may remember I wrote about Sandra and the incredible work she does as a Book and Spoonie Coach  in a blog post back in October. In case you missed it, you can click here to read the post.)

On her Instagram, Sandra encouraged spoonie writers to participate in NaNoWriMo in a way that worked for each of us. She pointed out that as people who live with chronic illness, we’re accustomed to modifying a variety of activities. Why should NaNoWriMo be any different? Sandra encouraged us to participate in a Spoonie NaNoWriMo — one with individual goals that work for each writer. That I could do. 

Being a former teacher, I printed out the goals I set for my NaNoWriMo, as well as a November calendar. Each day I met my goal, I put a sticker in the calendar box. (Again, former teacher. Plus I had all these cute stickers on-hand.)

My Spoonie NaNoWriMo Goals, as I printed them out:

Each day in November I will:

Complete a 5-minute writing exercise.

Write down one statement, acknowledging something I did, 

something my body was strong enough to do.

And I did it! (Note all the stickers!)

It certainly wasn’t easy. There were days I was tempted to skip the whole thing, but I’m glad I didn’t. The hardest part was the daily statement, a note of appreciation and gratitude for things my body is still strong enough to do, because I’m not used to highlighting myself in this way.

My statements tended to acknowledge a “bigger” outing or activity — taking down and putting away our Halloween decorations, decorating for Thanksgiving, grocery shopping (though I no longer do that by myself), a longer walk in the neighborhood. 

While those “bigger” activities were worth documenting, writing this list helped me see how hard I work each day, how much I continue to do each and every day, and all while my pain has consistently been more and more intense.

For instance: I make the bed each morning. I pick up my own prescriptions at CVS. I shower each night. I never skip brushing my teeth. I get dressed each day, complete with my daily jewelry (nine rings on eight fingers, bracelets, earrings, necklace). 

The unexpected result of my Spoonie NaNoWriMo is the feeling of achievement and pride — in my writing, yes, but also in myself! 

Dear Readers, anyone else participate in a version of NaNoWriMo? How did it go for you? Let me know in the comments.

A Safe Space

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

“I foolishly thought having an autoimmune disease would be no big deal. I thought it was something that would fade into the background, behind more important things like my family and career. I thought Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease (UCTD) would be another footnote in my medical history, along the lines of my allergy to penicillin. I disclose my allergy any time it’s relevant, explain about the hives that develop, and when necessary, wear a hospital bracelet identifying “allergy.” But on a daily basis, my allergic reaction to penicillin isn’t a big deal. I don’t give it much thought. I assumed having UCTD would work the same way.

Wrong.”

The paragraphs above are excerpts from my personal essay, “A Safe Space.” And I’m proud to share “A Safe Space” has recently been published in Wishbone Words, Issue 11. You can access the issue by clicking here.  (Just a note – there is a slight fee to download the issue.)

Write For Your Life

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I read for many reasons. To be entertained and inspired. To learn and grow and find comfort in someone else’s words.

I write for many reasons, too. Which is why I was curious to read Write For Your Life by Anna Quindlen.

While many people might not consider themselves writers, Ms. Quindlen believes everyone has a story worth writing down. I agree. 

In addition to Ms. Quindlen’s words, the book also has some writing-related quotes as well as some prompts for writing exercises. Here are some of my favorite bits from Write For Your Life:

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” — Anaïs Nin

“While you have to mentally re-create what happened on a phone call — ‘Did she really say that?’ — you can actually reread a text. But much of that tech prose online felt so spontaneous as to be slapdash, unexamined. It’s why people will often say, when reminded of an email or an online post, that they can’t really recall writing it. Every day, unthinkingly, our lives can slip through our fingers in a cascade of computer code. Texts are like footprints in sand. By evening the tide has come in, and we are left alone.”

“The urge to get it exactly right often stands between you and beginning. ‘Don’t get it right, get it written’ demands composition first, cleanup later. The paralysis of perfectionism is a terrible ailment that can seep into so much of our daily lives. In writing, what it leads to is an empty page, and an empty page is neither good nor bad. It’s nothing. Honestly, if the choice is between an imperfect something and nothing — well, that’s easy, isn’t it? Get it written. You can get it right later.”

“Something written by hand brings a singular human presence that the typewriter or the computer cannot confer. There’s plenty of good writing done that way, but when you simply glance at the page, it could be the work of anyone. But when you’ve written something by hand, the only person who could have done it is you. It’s unmistakable you wrote this, touched it, laid hands and eyes upon it. Something written by hand is a piece of your personality on paper. Typed words are not a fair swap for handwriting, for what is, in a way, a little relic of you.” 

“I’m not sure writing about things always makes us feel better, but perhaps it sometimes does make loss, tragedies, disappointments more actual. It can turn them into something with a clearer shape and form, and therefore make it possible to see them more deeply and clearly, and more usefully turn confusion and pain into understanding and perhaps reconciliation. On paper our greatest challenges become A Real Thing, in a world in which so much seems ephemeral and transitory.”

“Butt in chair. That’s the piece of direction I give to anyone and everyone who wants to write, who is thinking about writing, who is asking how it’s done, who is fearful of and intimidated by the act. It’s not poetic, and it doesn’t bespeak inspiration. What it does suggest is a way into what is not a mystery but a process, a way into the story of yourself.”

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.

The Healing Journal

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I recently finished working my way through Emily Suñez’s beautiful book The Healing Journal: Guided Prompts and Inspiration for Life with Illness.

If you read my blog on a regular basis, you might remember that twice before my blog posts were inspired by prompts in this lovely book. (You can read “I Am Alive With Creativity” by clicking here, and “My Illness Does Not Define Me” by clicking here.)

I finished reading the book and answering the writing prompts, but I haven’t finished healing. And that’s part of what makes life with a chronic illness so complicated. You never really completely heal from a chronic illness. 

There is no finish line. No specific treatment plan in place, that once you work through all the steps you’re “better.” It doesn’t work that way for me. It doesn’t work that way for a lot of people. There is no ideal world of “fully healed” to strive for. 

What I have found in the more than-a-decade that I have lived with my autoimmune disease, is that healing is a continuous process. Just as my symptoms go through periods of flares and remission, my feelings about my invisible disability ebb and flow as well.

My illness, and my healing, will forever be a part of me.

Teacher: One Who Loves

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

“The simple definition of teacher is one who teaches. But the reality of what it means to be a teacher is so much more. There was never one typical school day, because what I did or didn’t do in that classroom wasn’t entirely up to me. It involved my students — their participation, their preparation, their personalities. Each student brought a different set of previous experiences, a different set of learning styles, and a different set of challenges.” 

The paragraph above is an excerpt from my personal essay, “Teacher: One Who Loves,” and I’m so pleased to share that my essay was recently published on HerStry as part of their Women at Work series. You can click here to read the essay in its entirety.

And just a friendly reminder — Teacher Appreciation Week is May 8-12, 2023! It’s a great time to get in touch with a former teacher (yours or your child’s) and thank them!

One Step At a Time, One Book At a Time

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

This past weekend, I attended the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. For those who aren’t familiar with it, the Festival of Books is a huge, two-day, annual event held on the campus of USC (University of Southern California). 

Years ago, before my son was born, I went to the Festival every year. Back then it was held on the campus of UCLA (University of California Los Angeles.) 

I attended the Festival last year for the first time in many years. There was a certain thrill and energy that came with being surrounded by all things book-related, at attending an event that is a true celebration of books and authors. 

This year, though, I really wasn’t sure if I should go or not. Because I haven’t been feeling well lately. Because my pain level has been high and my energy level has been low. 

That’s the hard part for me — deciding when to push myself and when to hold back and admit that my body needs rest.

The truth was, I really wanted to go. I didn’t want to stay home because I was worried about my pain or the heat. I wanted to prove that I’m still capable of being out in the world, doing things I feel passionately about, not letting my illness completely dictate my life. 

I tried to make it as easy and stress-free as possible for myself by not attending any panel discussions or book signings. I didn’t want to have to worry about being in a particular place at a particular time. 

I simply strolled around the Festival, wearing my mask and sunhat, and doing my best to be present and enjoy the experience.  

I admit — I did start to daydream about what it would be like to be an author with my own exhibition area, selling copies of my memoir. Immediately I thought of giving out small, wrapped candies to those who stopped at my table. (Starburst and Hershey’s Kisses came to mind, though the Kisses might melt in the heat. Jolly Ranchers could be another possibility.)

I walked around, I took pictures, I picked up books, chatted with some authors, and bought three books, even though I have more than a dozen books at home, just waiting for me to read them. 

I loved being there. But, (you knew there was a but coming) it was incredibly hard on my body. It took me about 15 minutes to walk from the parking structure to the exhibition area. Plus, I had parked on level 5 which meant I would ordinarily take the elevator down to the ground level. However, eager attendees were crowding onto the elevator each time it stopped at 5, and I will not ride in a super-crowded elevator. (During my teaching years, I once was stuck in the school elevator for 55 minutes one morning.) So I walked down five flights of stairs. (Thankfully when it was time for me to leave, no one else was waiting for the elevator so I rode it up to parking level 5.)

When I felt my speed decreasing, when I found myself searching for a place to sit and rest in the shade, I knew it was time to go. That’s when the mask comes in handy. No one can see me talking to myself as I retraced my steps back to the parking area. One step at a time. Okay, you can do this. 

Am I glad I went? Yes. 

But I’m also sad. Because I miss the old days, the years I could just go out and do something without weighing all the possible risks. When I didn’t have to worry about having a pain-hangover the day (or days) after a particularly strenuous activity. 

I Am Alive With Creativity

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I have slowly been making my way through The Healing Journal: Guided Prompts and Inspiration for Life with Illness by Emily Suñez.

This is a book that you don’t read all at once. You “savor the flavor,” as we say in our family. You pay attention to each beautiful illustration and each writing prompt. (I last wrote about The Healing Journal in a December blog post. You can click here to read it.)

The book is much too pretty for me to write in. Instead, I use the statements in the book as prompts for my daily five-minute writing exercise. 

If you’re not familiar with it, my five-minute writing time is exactly what it sounds like. You set a timer and you write for five minutes. That’s it. Sometimes I am surprised by what I write during those five minutes. Something comes out on the paper that astonishes me, delights me, saddens me. 

Sometimes I know those five-minutes were just the beginning of something more to come. I feel as if there is more to explore and so I do. Several of my published personal essays were born from my five-minute writing exercises. But sometimes, the five-minutes were just that. Five minutes that are done and over with, that produced writing I won’t ever return to.

Last week, it was a case of me wanting to further explore what I began in my son’s partially-used composition book from last year that I now use for my five minute exercises. It was this statement:

“I am alive with creativity.”

I am alive with creativity. I write — in some way, shape, or form — each day. Sometimes it’s a blog post, sometimes it’s an article for MomsLA.com, sometimes it’s just my five-minute writing exercise. 

What I realized as my timer counted backwards was that my definition of creativity has changed over time. It has broadened and expanded in ways I didn’t realize, until I answered this prompt.

I surprised myself by listing all the ways I am creative, all the ways I demonstrate my creativity. My garden. The way I display the books on my bookcase. The way I use stickers to decorate the envelopes for the letters I mail to my pen pal. The flowers on my dining table and the candles in my writing room. The earrings and necklace I select to wear each day. 

Many days, lately in particular, it’s easy to think of the glass-half-empty parts of my life — the unsatisfying physical therapy appointments, the prescription medications, the pain that leaves me crying when I step out of the shower. 

But my life is more than that. I am more than that. 

Dear Readers, I’d love to know about your creativity. Tell me about it in the comments! 

Before and After the Book Deal

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Before and After the Book Deal: A Writer’s Guide to Finishing, Publishing, Promoting, and Surviving Your First Book by Courtney Maum is one of those books you don’t necessarily read from start to finish. It’s a book that has been on my bedside table for a while now. I pick it up and read a few pages, mark meaningful paragraphs with a yellow highlighter and sticky notes, and then put the book down again until the next time.

Ms. Maum has crafted a well-written and, at-times, humorous book. It is an incredibly valuable resource for writers who are looking to “finish, publish, promote and survive” their first book. Which I am.

Yet, even if you’re not a writer, if you create in a different medium, there are useful tidbits for all artists and creators. Here are just a few:

“Narrative voice is your literary aura, your essence, the thing that allows writers the world over to write about the same topics in thrillingly different ways. Even though it’s yours, your voice can take a long, long time to find.”

“Get excited by your rejections. They are road maps toward the kind of work that you were born to write.”  (It’s a good reminder. Although they are a part of the writing process, some rejections sting more than others.)

In addition to writer-specific advice, I love these reminders about the power of expressing gratitude:

“Set some money aside for thank-you tokens for your editorial team and agents at pub time. (A heartfelt, handwritten card is thoughtful, but some authors also send on gifts, flowers, alcohol [when appropriate], or something handmade.)”

“At some point after the book contract is finalized, if you live close enough to your publishing house to make this happy event possible, you will meet the people who are going to publish your first book.
“Within twenty-four hours, send a group email to everyone you met expressing how great it was to meet them, how lucky you are to be working with them, and why [enter name of publisher] is simply the best house for your book. Then send a handwritten note to your editor, reiterating the same.” 

Dear readers-who-are-also-writers, have you read this book? Do you have paragraphs or pages you have marked with your own sticky notes?