Journey Juju

#best09 - Best Moment of Peace

The fireplace, with Coco. Is she crossing her paws for good luck for me?

February, a small village in the south of France. I was standing in front of the fireplace at the bed and breakfast I was housesitting. I wasn’t experiencing peace per se but rather a sense of deep satisfaction. And it wasn’t from the cozy fire I was tending.

I had just finished my 14th (and final!) draft of my novel, Chasing Sylvia Beach. The peace came not from finishing it, but from feeling really good about it. Finally, after writing this book for ten years, I knew that it was good. It’s a good novel.

If you write or create, you know what a rare and beautiful thing it is to feel absolutely good about what you have produced.

Furthermore, I experienced a new commitment to see my book published. I decided then and there that it wasn’t an if, but a when. This is a novel about an amazing woman, Sylvia Beach, and I want more people to know and be inspired by her story.

Sylvia Beach

My agent is shopping the novel around now. A bottle of prosecco is chilling in the refrigerator awaiting the big, good news that a publisher is making an offer. If that offer doesn’t come, I’ll take other avenues to publish Chasing Sylvia Beach.

Now, It’s cold in my Victorian attic in Denver. I don’t have a fireplace to tend but an electric heater buzzing. I’ll use the deep, satisfying heat generated from my years of writing Chasing Sylvia Beach to warm me while I wait for news. Any advice on how I can keep the publication fires burning even while waiting? I welcome your comments.

#best09 - Best Restaurant Moment

We’d just had a big fight in the streets of Paris. The map ripped in half, names were called, gauntlets thrown. It’s day three of our five-week trip through Europe. The last thing I want to do is sit down with him for a fancy French dinner, but I don’t want to eat some crap later.

So, apologizing for being late, we’re seated at a tiny table in the middle of l’Épi Dupin in the 6th. We’re tucked up next to a pair of German businessmen. There’s nothing to do but let go of the argument and enjoy the meal.

The food was incredible. The amuse bouche: something green turned into jelly under a pumpkin purée scattered with poppy seeds, sesame-crusted fried mussels afloat a sweet potato purée with a fluff of foam,  and dorade filet atop a bed of leeks and cream and garnished with a sweet drizzle of something A bottle of sassy wine (I never remember what we drink). For dessert, sable with vanilla cream and fresh raspberries.I’m panting just writing this, from the memory of it plus the effort it takes to describe food like this. I bow to food writers everywhere, for they work hard.

Over dinner, my partner illuminates one fact of life to me: Men only care about sex, and if they tell you something else, they are lying.

My Graceful Return

Words spilling out after my return

On the night I returned from my five-week trip to Europe, the family I live with was hosting a pumpkin carving party. By the time I arrived from Paris, they were done carving and were enjoying dinner. I sat down, gave headlines from the trip and ate a bowl of curried squash soup. It was a beautiful and autumnal return from a long and challenging trip. 

This may have been the most difficult trip I have ever taken. Honestly I am surprised I made it the entire five weeks. But that’s another story; it would be great if I could turn it into a screenplay. I see it as a movie starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and Tom Cruise. :) It was also a trip full of unexpected delights, abundant insights and deep learning.

For me, travel almost always presents opportunities to learn and grow beyond my perceived capacity. Think personal growth boot camp, made palatable by tons of beauty and many joyous moments and lots of good food and drink.

So, upon my return, what to do with the complex mix of impressions, thoughts and emotions from one crazy and intense journey?

I’m using the tools from my e-book The Graceful Return to process the insights and learning from my trip. While on the road, I spent a lot of time reflecting on my work and what I want to share with my clients and readers in coming years. Mr. B, a successful businessman, gave me a lot of feedback (some painful - think dry shave and you get it). I’m busy sorting through it all to develop my work. 

Recovering from a Mobile Lifestyle

From Part One of The Graceful Return, I’m using several of the self-care practices I recommend. I’m talking about my experiences with good friends, who are helping me unpack and understand what I experienced. I’m making sure to exercise and eat nourishing foods. Most importantly, I spend time each day reflecting on the lessons from my trip. My notebook is packed with wildly enthusiastic notes and sketches. I also know that this process takes time and I may still be gathering insights months and even years later.

 

The Original Impulse home office

Latest from the Magic Treetop Studio

A few weeks before Labor Day (US), I feel like summer is over. I’ve allowed myself a lot of free time while integrating back to life in the US and now I’m eager to move on to the more focused energy of fall. I’ve been home five months now and while it’s been a pleasant summer, it’s time to drag myself out of my magic treetop studio and into my office. I’ve been developing several new projects that I want to share with you.

Sketchbook Project Completed!

I am happy to report that I filled my Moleskine sketchbook for the Art House Sketchbook Project. I decided to do one drawing on each page, using colored pencils and markers for color. Using watercolor would have rippled the pages too much.

I’m not completely satisfied with the finished product, but then are we ever completely happy with our creative offspring? I am glad that I did it, because I almost bailed on the project. With my novel and illustrated book on the roster, this project seemed to be a distraction.

But I found that I missed doing a bit of daily art. Putting pen to paper for random sketches was calming and fun. It was also good practice in kicking the critic to the curb so I could create.

The Sketchbook Project will show almost 2,000 sketchbooks in six shows in the US. Read the details at the Art House web site.

I sent my notebook from Paris, with the title on the cover, Je Suis le Cahier (I am the notebook.) I took this from a book of Picasso’s sketchbooks of the same title. I like thinking that I am the notebook. I did not offer my notebook for sale, preferring to keep it as a recording of my time in Roquebrun.

In other notebook news, I decided that I did not need as many Moleskine notebooks as I thought. I’m using the Japanese accordion notebook for sketches of this journey, and I still have room in my reporter’s notebook, where I keep info about what to do, see, remember. I am using the Portuguese blue notebook for my journal, and find I like the change to a small, hardbound notebook. The pages in the Portuguese notebook are smooth and take the ink well.This is the same type of notebook that has such mystical appeal in Paul Auster's novel, The Oracle Night.

Random tidbit: this is the 200th post on the Journey Juju blog! It’s almost a year old and it’s been great fun to post reports from my creative odyssey here. Thanks for reading and commenting!

Leaving Roquebrun

It’s been two months in this quiet village in the south of France and as I prepare to leave, I want to write a sort of ode or memory piece to help mark my time here.

What I saw:

• a white goose and a bevy of brown ducks hanging out on the river
• tons of vineyards, knobby legs of vines
• bright orange peels from tangerines and clementines littering the roads
• festival of mimosas in Roquebrun– parades, villagers dressed in goofy costumes, got some ideas
• the entire series of Six Feet Under, yes I’ve already seen it but I watched it again at night, this crazy quirky show keeping me company
• animal decals on trucks – deer, boar, etc. Does this mark the kind of hunter the driver is?
• the medieval cité in Carcassonne
• the river Orb swirling backwards one day

What I felt:

• Sun on my face on my afternoon walks
• Incredible gratitude for this opportunity to have a place to work on my creative projects
• Lonely and isolated
• Kinda crazy sometimes, wearing schlubby clothes, cycling through the same routine every day
• Tension around the last laps of the novel
• Love for Coco the cat and how loving and sweet she is
• Desire to kill the incessantly barking dogs next door

What I learned:

• I absolutely do not want to live in a remote village by myself
• I have a huge capacity for solitude
• I’m not a fan of the wine of this region
• A lot about what is important to me
• much, much more to be digested later

What I ate:

• a lot of locally made bread with whole grains
• delicious local honey
• homemade orange marmalade
• Saint Chinian wine: mostly red, the occasional rosé
• Chai
• coffee with cinnamon and soy milk
• the usual vegetables and grains
• pasta alla arriabiata
• tons of olives
• coconut yogurt
• purple sprouting broccoli

What I did:

• Finished another revision of my novel, CSB, making it way better
• Did about 1/3 – 1/2 of my illustrated book
• Filled a small Moleskine sketchbook for the Art House Sketchbook Project
• Coached my amazing clients and launched the Free Write Fling
• Yoga five-six days a week to start my day
• Worked on polishing and fluffing my blogs
• Worked a lot on developing my new offering
• Re-loaned money through Kiva.org
• visited the Toulouse-Lautrec museum in Albi

I’m excited to board the train to Paris today, full of gratitude for my time in Roquebrun and for my journey juju that continues to offer the perfect opportunities to enhance and deepen my journey as a creative nomad.

Roquebrun, France

I'm in a wee village in the Languedoc-Rousillon region of France. A beautiful bridge spans the River Orb. Terra-cotta-roofed buildings climb the hill toward a crumbling medieval tower.

Large garden plots line the river and also span the other side of the village. Rows of giant, glowing green lettuces wave in the breeze.

Walking the village's narrow streets is like playing in a maze; you never know where you'll come out but you'll always be at the center of town, somehow.

You almost need a degree in mathematics to remember the timetables for the bakery, the tabac, and the tiny grocery store. Better yet, don't plan anything important around their opening hours.

There are 569 inhabitants of the village. I know that in the summer the place is a-swim with kayakers and canoeing and summer frolicking by the river. But now it's pretty quiet.

I love having this rare and precious time here. I've got two house sitting gigs which have me in Roquebrun for two months.

I'm enjoying daily walks and trying to take some pictures. I so want to share great photos, so I'll send you to my neighbor James's Flickr page to see his incredible shots of Roquebrun, both in the daylight and on a misty morning. The morning he took the mist photos, I happened to be up and out at the crack of dawn, taking my new housesitting hosts to an early train. I climbed the steps of the village and was completely awestruck when I saw the church rising from the mist. I'm grateful for James's photographic talent, and for his permission to share his photos with you. (The photo above is mine.)

In the Creativity Laboratory

I always liked the idea of a laboratory devoted to creativity. In the lab you would be free to explore and experiment, to test and observe. You’d learn what works in your particular medium. You’d glean insight into your creative process and what stills the creative impulse and what sets it racing. You’d learn simple but vital things like: jazz makes you jumpy but you love painting to classical music. That the right dosage of caffeine to lure out your genius is one and a half cups of coffee, no more. That what some might consider ADD is a perfectly acceptable working style for you, and that skipping among projects actually helps you focus better.

I’m fortunate to be in my own creativity lab, but I wasn’t here even last week. Several phone calls helped me shift my perspective to see that this time in France is an opportunity to savor my own creative laboratory.

Speaking to my writing buddy Shelly, I breathlessly enumerated my projects. I could break them into three big categories: Original Impulse (my work), Chasing Sylvia Beach (my novel) and The Illuminated Traveler (my illustrated book based on the Creative Travel Toolkit). I could separate my blogs into another category, but to keep it simple, I’ll leave those lumped in with work.

While telling Shelly about these projects, I didn’t have a real sense of how I was actually going to pull it all off. I am the kind of person who can do a lot, but even I sensed I was reaching my capacity.

Even when I don’t have much else to do right now but eat and work, I still needed to prioritize.

So when Shelly asked me what my priorities were, I couldn’t answer. I know that this quiet time is rare and precious and will last about another four weeks. I know I want to leave this creative cocoon having made substantial progress on both of my books.

I also know that I am at a creative turning point with my work, and developing my next phase is incredibly exciting and creative.

Still, one must choose and focus to some degree. I know this. I coach people on this. But we all need our own nudge from time to time. So I went to sleep pondering Shelly’s question.

Day Trip to Avignon

I’m in France! Yes, this is true, but mostly I’m inside working, just like I am in any other place. The last two weeks have been an especially productive time. I’ve:
• Made and posted my first ever video
• Made a timeline of ten years of Original Impulse in Keynote
• Trying to figure how to make that public
• Worked on several spreads of The Illuminated Traveler
• Outlined my novel and the revision plan
• Researching and developing my new offerings for 2009 and beyond
• Developing a logo for my ten year anniversary
• And more….

I’m in that creative space where bouncing from one thing to another gives an incredible rush. Drawing in my book gels my new idea for a workshop. One thing dovetails into another.

But too much time in the studio makes one lumpy. One’s conversational skills grow rusty. It’s good to get out of the studio and replenish the creative well. So I planned a day trip to Avignon to meet Dominique, a former client, friend and fellow writer. Dominique lives on the Cote d’Azur and Avignon is halfway for both of us.

This gave me a great opportunity to recall that I am in France. A few things that delighted me:

Driving in France makes me feel like I am living here, not just skimming the surface as a traveler. I shed most of the fear from my slide. I left early Saturday morning, taking my new housesitting hosts to the train station.

It was then that I realized that I didn’t have the best directions to Avignon. I’d planned to stop at Pezenas, a small town nearby, to check it out. But I had the wrong directions. So, I stopped for directions.

At a pastry shop, of course. I got a Bitterois, a flaky pastry filled with apples and raisins. Apparently a Bitterois is a person who lives in Beziers. This was a town completely sacked by the crusaders in the middle ages. I wonder if Bitteroi means they’re bitter. I might be if my ancestors were decimated. Does that stuff linger in the air, the soil, the water?

Anyway, moving on. I got directions that steered me straight toward Montpelier.

I drove and found Pezenas and found the market. People were just setting up their stalls: camouflage hunting gear, hats, fruits and vegetables, shoes, household gear. I’ve never been to a market before it opened. It was 8:30. I wandered around until the town clock chimed 9:00, when I bought: broccoli, arugula, red and green mache, carrots, turnips and fennel.

I took a hit of happiness at the Café des Artists. Fueled by the noisette, I perused the local bookstore and paper shop, where I bought a gold pen.

But the highlight of Pezenas was meeting Margo, the ginger syrup vendor from Ireland. We talked for awhile about the wonders of ginger and the thrill of being a creative nomad. She shared some of her life philosophies while we stood in the whiff of olives from the olive vendor next door. Intoxicating. But I had to drive on to Avignon.

My French Studio

Inspired by Alyson Stanfield's post about showing pictures of your studio I took a few photos of my studio. Being a Creative Nomad means I have to travel light. When I moved to my new house sitting digs last weekend, I realized there was no office space. So I decided to set up at the dining room table.

And to leave my stuff there full time.

This has been a long-held dream for me - to have a studio space where I can leave supplies out undisturbed. Where I can draw while waiting for some interminable up/download. Where I can see my work and play with it when I want.

I love having my art and my work and my writing all in one place.

This is my French studio for the next five weeks. Coco the cat is there with me all the time. Right now she is doing a great job as a lap warmer. I wish she'd also change the music when the CD runs out! I've been listening to classical music.

Coco is sitting on my red bag that I bought in the Rastro in Madrid. It's perfect for my paints, pens, pencils, erasers, stamp pad, etc. And for Coco to sit upon.

That's The Illuminated Traveler (practice version propped up). I made a lot of progress on it yesterday. So fun.

I'm curious to know if any of you have mobile studios for art or writing. By that I mean you don't have a specific place but keep your tools in a kit that you can use anywhere.

How do you keep your supplies together?