Victoria Noe's Blog, page 12

Why Editing is Like Physical Therapy

My hand, 3 days after my accident

The end of October I fell and broke my hand. It was the first time I’ve ever broken a bone and I made up for lost time by breaking four of them. A few hours later, I was in surgery having five pins inserted (being awake for it wasn’t so bad, but I could’ve done without listening to the drill). The pins stayed in for almost five weeks. Physical therapy (more accurately, occupational therapy) began less than two weeks after the accident.

It’s a long road: at least another month of twice/weekly torture sessions and two dozen daily exercises. Full recovery will take a year, so I have a ways to go. And though I’ve gone from being unable to use my right – writing – hand for anything to being able to do many things (not driving yet), it’s been incredibly frustrating.

At my session on Monday, for the first time, the measurements on one of my exercises went backwards. Today I told my therapist I felt like I’d hit a wall, that I wasn’t improving. She insisted that I was improving, but where the progress had been dramatic and more obvious the first few weeks, now it was harder and slower.

Also this week, I’ve been editing updates to my second book, Friend Grief and AIDS: Thirty Years of Burying Our Friends for its March re-release. I went into the updates with great optimism, sure it wouldn’t take long or be too complicated. How hard could it be to update a book I wrote four years ago, right?

Like my therapy, the editing was off to a great start. Then, also like my therapy, I felt myself going backwards. What I assumed would be relatively quick and painless has turned out to be neither. My frustration with therapy spilled over to editing.

But like my physical progress, this can’t be rushed. There have been times when the writing came so easily I could barely keep up typing the words. But editing has always been harder. It’s not that I hate it. Truth be told, I enjoy editing. I just assumed it would be easy this time around.

Therapy and editing take time. They’re both hard work, sometimes painful, though in different ways: I don’t reach for the ibuprofen when I’m editing. And both are proof that you can’t rush things that are important.

So I will continue to talk to myself, in the hopes that I can appreciate that progress, though slow, is still progress. And cross my fingers as best I can that my updated book will be ready just about the time my therapy ends. Because then I can really celebrate.

 

 

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New Year, New Book, New Day

[image error]I’m a little weird about calendars. I’ll buy a planner in the fall, so I can start writing down commitments in the next year. But I refuse to put up a new wall calendar until January 1. This year I had a lot of events to add. Having my writing career – and other things – come to a full stop after breaking my hand, I’m finally beginning to play catch-up. I’m not fully healed yet, but the calendar is filling up.

My first trip of the year will be the end of March. First I go back to New York, to conduct the interviews I had to cancel after my accident. Then it’s down to Washington, DC for AIDSWatch, two days of advocacy training and meetings with elected representatives. Last year was my first since 1989, and this year promises to be another important event. While there I hope to interview women in government as well as ambassadors of the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation.

May is the crazy month. Starting in New York for a couple days of final interviews, I head up to Boston, where I’ll be presenting at The Muse and the Market Place Conference on May 5. The topic is “Public Speaking for Painfully Shy Authors”. It’s a workshop I love to do and I’m looking forward to my first experience at Muse.

From there it’s speaking engagements and book signings back in New York City, up to Rochester and back, then…well, you’ll have to wait a bit for the details on that.

All of the traveling and interviewing is for my next book, Fag Hags, Divas and Moms: The Legacy of Straight Women in the AIDS Community. Partly because of that book, I decided it was time to update the second book in my series, Friend Grief and AIDS: Thirty Years of Burying Our Friends. It’s the one book I knew would require occasional updates, but this one will be a little more extensive. I have a tentative release date of March 7. March is also Women’s History Month, and I’m pleased that I will again have guest bloggers here, straight women from the AIDS community to share their stories.

Yesterday I was feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. Even good stress is stressful and I wondered yet again if I could write this next book and do justice to the women sharing their stories.

Tuesday was also my semi-annual checkup with my wonderful neurologist. We discussed my accident, how it affected my balance and focus, when he changed the subject. “But the important question is, are you writing?”

Obviously he knew my writing had taken a back seat, especially when I could only use my left hand. I expressed my frustration at being so far behind on this book. He shook his head and said softly, “You have to do it. It’s so important, so important.”

In the midst of feeling overwhelmed and not a little frustrated, I needed to hear that. Sometimes that’s all it takes: one person who believes what you’re doing is important and you’re the only person who can do it.

So today I’m back at it, the final fracture in my hand healed, at least a month of intense therapy ahead of me, and a full ten months before my hand is back to ‘normal’. But by then I’ll have a new book in my hands – both hands.

And that will be a very good day.

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Grief, Loss and The Hallmark Channel

Normally after a traumatic event I try to make sense of it. After 9/11 I was glued to the TV, watching everything trying to understand what was impossible to understand. But after the Pulse nightclub massacre in Orlando last June that left 49 people dead, I couldn’t watch anything on the news. Not a thing. So I did something I’d never done before:

I watched a Hallmark Channel movie. Actually, I watched a lot of them because there are actually two Hallmark Channels (one is Movies and Mysteries).

There was a certain comfort in the predictability: no violence to speak of. Dead bodies were remarkably intact, no blood or missing limbs. The plots of what were mostly mysteries were easily solved in two hours (including commercials). Sex was limited to hugs and kisses.

The themes were consistent: life in big cities (especially New York) was bad; life in small towns was good. No one could really be happy unless they accepted that because true love and a sense of purpose could not be found in Manhattan or Los Angeles.

Not that there weren’t things that bothered me: all of the lead characters were white. People of color – when seen – played supporting roles or filled in the background. No one was LGBTQ. People with disabilities were largely left out. Religion – which did not come up as often as I expected – was Christian and non-denominational.

I eased off watching the movies until after the election. Once again I felt the need for escapism. But this time it coincided with both channels’ switch to holiday movies. This time, I found something very unexpected in virtually every movie:

Grief.

It took me a while to realize that the plot conflicts were less about big city vs. small town and almost entirely about the grieving process. Characters who had suffered great losses – spouse, parent, even child – had given up on Christmas and on life itself. They were alive but not living. Their spirits had died with their loved ones.

Someone – a family member, concerned friend or Santa in disguise – makes it their mission to bring that person back to life. Yes, predictable. But…

What I found most comforting is that none of these storylines encouraged the griever to ‘get over it’. Some characters did insist it was ‘time’, but ‘time’ to enjoy life again, not time to dismiss their grief.

So even as most, though not all, ended up embracing a new romantic love, they did so knowing it did not mean pretending they hadn’t lost someone dear to them. Those they lost would still be important, still guide them in their new lives. Loss changed them, but it didn’t have to destroy them.

And that’s a good reminder for us all, no matter who we grieve.

 

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Travel Tips for Writers

Brooklyn

My friend, Porter Anderson, wrote about the importance of travel for writers. Sometimes all it takes is some alone time in a different place to dissolve writer’s block, recharge your batteries or find inspiration. And we all agree we’d do more of it if we could.

What’s stopping you?

Money.

I thought I’d expand on Porter’s tips (he won’t mind), since a lot of us are making plans for 2017. Here are some ways you can make those trips happen:

Lodging. Be flexible, but loyal. Are there places you return to time and again? I’m in New York a lot. There are two hotels I’ve returned to over a dozen times. Because they’re both part of the same brand loyalty program (Holiday Inn), I earn points towards free nights. Now and then I get a free mini-fridge. Loyalty programs have lots of perks and are free to join.

Airbnb can be iffy, depending on the location. If you’re staying for a week or more, check out extended stay locations. They offer laundry rooms and kitchenettes. That means you save money cooking for yourself or at least reheating leftovers. Onsite – usually free – laundry means fewer clothes to pack. Some even have free buffet breakfast.

I rarely stay at a conference hotel unless I have a roommate to split the cost. Last summer I saved close to $150/night by staying at a Holiday Inn a short walk away in midtown Manhattan. I could’ve spent even less if I’d reserved a room in Brooklyn or Queens.

I’ve stayed at more than one hotel during a week in order to take advantage of specials. For example, I stayed in a $99/night hostel/hotel during the week while I spent long days at the library. Then I moved to a different hotel for their $140/night weekend rate that included laundry and free breakfast.

Subway – 8th Ave. &14th St., NYC

Travel. Don’t dismiss Amtrak, which also has a loyalty program. It beats driving, and the roomettes for overnight travel give you privacy (meals are included, but not alcohol). Like airlines, booking in advance saves money.

If you’re in a location with great public transportation, get a weekly pass, even if you’re only there a few days. That gives you flexibility and one less thing (the card  balance) to worry about. Avoid taxis and Uber surge pricing.

Groupon. Yes, Groupon. Check the city you’re traveling to. I’ve gotten steep discounts for parking, meals, museum passes, groceries, exhibits and tours.

Food. Even if you don’t have access to a kitchen, you can save money. Use those free drink/food points you’ve accumulated on your Starbucks card. Otherwise stay away from chains. It’s tempting, but you won’t find inspiration. Google something you like – mac’n’cheese, eggs Florentine, pad thai – and check the reviews. Be adventurous. Walk around and let the smell of barbecue or chicken soup or apple muffins guide you.

Check Grub Hub. Look for farmers markets. Don’t forget good old-fashioned diners. My favorite one in NYC gets me tea, juice, eggs, potatoes, corned beef hash and toast for $10: lots of food to fuel my morning (and half the afternoon). Even expense-account restaurants, like Acadiana in Washington, DC or Grand Central Oyster Bar in New York have affordable offerings, especially at lunch.

The Cloisters

Research. If you’re travelling for research, be sure to check the library/archive rules ahead of time. For example, I can take anything into the Rose Reading Room at New York Public Library. But there are strict rules for the Brooke Astor Reading Room in the same building. And those are different than the rules for the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center, Fales Library at NYU or Regenstein Library at U of Chicago. Submit your requests for materials well-ahead of time. Find out if non-residents can obtain temporary library cards (you may be required to do this in order to access archival materials).

Going to a museum or historical site? Check your own local memberships to see if they have reciprocal agreements. You may get in for little or nothing. Also check out their free days/evenings and special bonuses (one admission gets you into the Metropolitan Museum and the Cloisters on the same day).

Income. Book a presentation or book signing while you’re there. Every little bit helps!

Rest your brain. Ride a bus just to watch the world go by. Take a walk in the park or on the beach. Go window shopping. Nap.

So those are some tips. I’m sure you have a few of your own. Travel is important. It exposes us to new cultures, cuisines and ideas. It calms us down and opens us up to possibilities. It recharges our batteries and inspires us to tackle new challenges.

Put it at the top of your New Year’s resolutions. And as my favorite Star Trek captain says,

“Make it so.”

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‘Tis the Season for Writing and Giving

It’s that time of year for shopping and digging a little deeper to support worthy causes.

The appeals are relentless: junk mail, phone calls, emails, tweets and Facebook posts. Every day, starting in earnest at Thanksgiving and not letting up until New Year’s Eve. As a former fundraiser, I’ve learned over the years to ignore most of those appeals.

But the truth is, most people really do want to help. And every donation helps.

Early on in the writing of the Friend Grief series, I knew I wanted to designate a charity partner for at least one of the books. I researched organizations, met with a few of their founders. One decision came easily.

The second book –Friend Grief and AIDS: Thirty Years of Burying Our Friends – could’ve benefitted many terrific organizations. But I kept coming back to one that produces remarkable events, is run by the amazing Tom Viola, and awards millions of dollars in grants to AIDS projects around the country. Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS is one of the best run, most effective nonprofits you will find anywhere.

 

The fourth book – Friend Grief and the Military: Band of Friends – posed a unique challenge. There are many organizations serving veterans. Unfortunately many of them are poorly run. Too many are scams. It took a lot of research, but by an odd coincidence – or fate or divine providence – I found Military Outreach USA. They work with over 20,000 faith communities around the country to educate about moral injury and how to help veterans affected by it.

When you purchase those books – print or e-book – 25% of the retail price is donated to those organizations. None of that ‘a portion of the profits’ nonsense: I wanted my readers to know exactly what their purchase meant.

I don’t sell enough to write big checks to them at the end of the year, but I’m glad to be able to support their work. I hope you will be, too.

 

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Holidays and Friend Grief

It’s been a tough year, as I wrote last week. Many of us lost friends and the holidays are not always kind for those who grieve. So I’m sharing this post from 2012 as a reminder to take care of ourselves and keep our friendships in our hearts:

I hated the holidays – Thanksgiving through Valentine’s Day – when I was single and not dating. I felt like it was the annual reminder from the universe that I was alone. Everyone had someone during the holidays except me. At least that’s what it felt like.

It’s hard to lose a friend, whether they were our best friend, a co-worker, a neighbor, the girl whose locker was next to ours. The holidays are hard after you’ve lost a family member. But what about for those of us who have lost a friend?

I’ve been reading articles about coping with grief during this festive time of year. Without exception, they focused on grieving a family member. Nothing wrong with that. I’ve had a couple of bad Christmases myself. The one after my uncle died in a car accident earlier in December was horrible. We went through the motions, but it wasn’t the same.

So it is when our friends die. Maybe there were special things the two of you did together during the holidays: Thanksgiving Day football games, shopping, office parties, afternoon tea, organizing mini-class reunions, baking cookies. When they’re gone, those activities lose a lot of the happiness they brought you.

You may find yourself shopping and thinking “oh, they’d love that,” only to realize that there’s no need to buy it. You may find yourself avoiding the holiday rituals that had been a part of your friendship, making excuses that no one – including you – believes. You may find yourself, like me, just wishing you could hibernate during the holidays.

Taking care of yourself is paramount. Too many of us who grieve our friends are encouraged, coaxed and otherwise told in no uncertain terms that we need to “move on”. And all that does is create resentment and stall our healing. So – always with the disclaimer that I’m not a therapist – here are some things to consider while you grieve a friend during the holidays:

1 – Get some sleep. No, seriously, get some sleep. No one gets medals for being sleep-deprived, and when you’re grieving, your body is under additional stress. Do whatever you have to do to get more rest – naps, earlier bedtime, meditation. A few minutes a day can make a big difference.

2 – Don’t over-indulge. We hear it all the time during the holidays: don’t overeat or drink too much. But again, when we’re grieving, we’re often less self-aware of what we’re doing. It can be easy to eat and drink more than we should. Neither one will help you get through the holidays with any semblance of peace of mind.

3 – Find a buddy for your journey. It might be a mutual friend of the one who died. It might be a therapist. It might be group therapy. Someone you can talk to about what you’re going through, someone who understands and won’t pressure you to go back to “normal” as soon as possible. Talk to your dog. Write in a journal. But find a way to express your grief.

4 – Revisit or create new rituals. Maybe doing the things you did with that friend give you comfort; make them feel close to you. If they don’t, do something different, maybe something your friend was not interested in doing.

5 – Honor your friend’s memory during the holidays. Make a donation to a cause they supported. Gives gifts to needy families or deployed soldiers in their memory.

None of these things will change the reality: your friend died and you miss them. But they may help you get through a challenging time of year with your sanity intact.

In the end, Scrooge talked about “keeping Christmas every day.” May you find a way to keep your friend’s memory every day.

(And if you have any suggestions to add to the list, feel free to share.)

 

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The Year of Grieving

“I love you for my life, you are a friend of mine,

and when my life is over,

remember when we were together,

we were alone and I was singing this song to you.”

– Leon Russell (1942-2016)

 

It’s been a hell of a year: Prince. Bowie. Natalie Cole. Alan Rickman. Pat Conroy. Leonard Cohen. Brian Bedford. Tammy Grimes. George Martin. Joe Garagiola. Patty Duke. Muhammad Ali. Gwen Ifill. Elie Wiesel. Gene Wilder. Edward Albee. Arnold Palmer. Robert Vaughn.



And that’s a partial list.

I feel like I’ve been in mourning since New Year’s Day, when Jo Stewart, the leader of my first writing group, died. And I guess that’s true.

The people on that list weren’t friends. I have a letter from one who I dared to thank for the wonderful memories I have of him on stage and in film. But their talent enriched all of our lives. Our world feels a little less joyful knowing their contributions have come to an end. So grieving them is necessary and appropriate.


Since I fell and broke my hand (4 fractures, 5 pins) in late October I’ve been grieving even more. I labeled my feelings “self-pity”, because it could’ve been worse. I got mad at myself for crying as I struggled to dress and shower using only my left hand (I’m right-handed). But yesterday I began to see it differently.


I’m grieving.

I’m grieving for the full stop on my new book and its Indiegogo campaign. I’m grieving the loss of income from canceling presentations. I’m grieving the inevitable spike in medical bills. I’m grieving the loss of normal independence. I’m grieving all those things and more, because even the knowledge that it could’ve been worse is no consolation.

So as I hunt and peck with my left hand, trying to ignore the pain in my right, I have to let myself grieve. I tell people all the time to let themselves grieve, but it’s advice that’s sometimes hard to take.

It’s been a tough year, even without the election. And it’s not over yet. I’ll keep hunting and pecking and missing deadlines. I’ll treasure the memories of those we’ve lost. I know I’ll be back full-force at some point.

And I’ll let myself grieve.


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A Bump in the Road

Ugly, isn’t it?

This week’s blog post is short but not so sweet.

The first week of my trip to New York was amazing. I attended a panel discussion that included Kelsey Louie, Executive Director of GMHC (Gay Men’s Health Crisis) and one of its founders, Larry Kramer. I heard another panel speak on the narrativization of AIDS in the dance community.

I interviewed ten amazing women who you’ll meet in Fag Hags, Divas and Moms: The Legacy of Straight Women in the AIDS Community. 

I launched my Indiegogo campaign to support the book. I was on a roll.

And then I wasn’t.

On Saturday I tripped and fell, breaking two fingers. Had surgery to insert 5 pins that will be removed in a month. I’m on my second splint to immobilize my hand. On Monday I see an orthopedic hand surgeon. After the splint finally comes off, I face 3 months of therapy on my right hand.

Did I mention that I’m right-handed?

So, I have a lot of adjusting to do. But if you’d like to help, please share my Indiegogo campaign. The nine interviews I had to cancel will now be conducted in January. It’s even more important now that I meet my goal. Check out the cool perks and all the ways you can support it, even getting your own name in the book.

I hope to be able to write more as I get used to hunting and pecking with my left hand, and I install a voice-to-text program.

Not giving up, though it may take me longer to get things done. This book will make you laugh, make you cry, and open the door to a part of AIDS – and women’s – history that few know. And I hope you’ll be a part of it.

Back to work.

 

 

 

 

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The Next Stage for My Next Book

I’ll be there this week interviewing women for the book.

I’m back…in New York, that is. The last couple trips here I was doing research for my next book, Fag Hags, Divas and Moms: The Legacy of Straight Women in the AIDS Community. I’m on a first-name basis with the research librarians at the New York Public Library (5th Avenue and Lincoln Center). They’ve been a great help to me: “That tape is out for digitization, but I took the liberty of pulling the transcript for you.”

This trip marks the next stage for the book. I’m not done with the research; not by a long shot. But between previous visits here, research online and at the U of Chicago library as well as a stack of over 30 books on the epidemic, I’m in a good place for this point in the process.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I can’t interview every straight woman who has ever worked in the AIDS community during the thirty-five years of the epidemic. It seems obvious, but the deeper I got into the research, the more I was struck by the idea. Frankly, it discouraged me. But, I can only do what I can do. I’m determined that this book will be a fair and accurate representation of straight women around the world who have made a difference.

Even more so than with my Friend Grief series, I’ve been forced to abandon my natural inclination to go it alone and ask for help. So far, the results have been humbling.

Within five minutes of putting out a call last fall on Facebook, I started receiving emails and private messages offering names of women to contact and archives to access. Many of those offers came from people I’d never met but were part of a group I was in online. The help continued a few months later when I ran a small crowdfunding campaign that helped me attend AIDSWatch in Washington, DC.

The book proposal five agents requested in August when I pitched them at Writers Digest Conference is almost done. One section remains, and I’ll tackle that when I get home from this trip. I’m committed to this book, daunting though it is, so I’ll self-publish again if that’s the best way. The book is happening, no matter how it’s published.

That brings me to this next stage; interviewing. Some of the women I’ll be interviewing on Skype or by email. But many are in cities that are easy for me to visit, which brings me here this week and next. The downside to self-publishing is self-funding, and though I’m a very efficient traveler, there are expenses involved.

Today I launched a new crowdfunding campaign on Indiegogo. My goal is to raise money for my January trip to conduct research and interview women in Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, DC and Atlanta. There are lots of perks, including a tax deduction for your support, thanks to my partnership with the New York Foundation for the Arts.

I told someone recently that this book overwhelms me about every other day. That was inaccurate: it overwhelms me every day. What started out five years ago as a brief reflection on my time as a fundraiser in the early days of the epidemic has brought me to a project that is bigger, more complicated and more important than I could have ever anticipated. Because what I found out along the way, is that not only is this book addressing a gap in the literature of the AIDS epidemic, it’s also a gap in women’s history.

I’m proud to say that this book is not about me: it’s about other straight women whose contributions to the epidemic – as researchers, nurses, doctors, social workers, fundraisers, activists, coworkers, volunteers, family and friends – have never been acknowledged. It’s time. It’s way past time.

So I invite you to visit my Indiegogo campaign. There are many ways to help, not all requiring financial support. I hope you’ll help me take this project closer to reality.

Because it’s time.

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My Day at a Library Conference

Sharing a table with James Gordon

In a former life, I was a vendor for Chicago Public Schools. I repped two children’s book publishers (one at a time) for fifteen years, working mostly with the school librarians. That experience could be a book in itself.

Occasionally, I had a booth at an educational conference: statewide library or teacher gatherings. I had the whole booth to myself (at considerable expense). I hauled boxes and boxes of inventory to set-up and sell, along with catalogs and order forms. It was hard work, but I usually did well. I almost always did it alone. That wasn’t unusual. A lot of vendors ran their booths alone. Only the really big companies had multiple reps working.

On Wednesday I was back for my second Illinois Library Association annual conference as an author. And it’s a very different experience.

A group of writers shared what was a double-booth space, two at a table, to meet and great librarians and talk about our books. For some of us, it was not our first time. But others were dipping their toes into the librarian world for the first time.

Our tables were set up in similar ways: books on display, flyers, business cards, book marks, candy (give them as many reasons as possible to approach your table). But what is great about being in a booth like this, as opposed to the old way I did it, is the camaraderie.

We introduced ourselves and checked out each other’s books. We studied their promotional materials and filed away ideas for ourselves. We watched how they greeted the people walking by, convincing them to stop and talk.

We shared information: about what the librarians might be looking for, about upcoming events or contests, the location of the closest Starbucks. In other words, we bonded.

Yes, we certainly wanted to sell books and set up meetings, but we weren’t competing against each other. Our books were as varied in genre and subject matter as we were in age and clothing.

We actually had a discussion about this and decided the only way to run our businesses was to pay it forward: to share what others had shared with us along the way, to lift up everyone.

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not always this much fun at every author event. I’ve had authors walk up and interrupt conversations I’m having with a customer to try to bring them over to their own table. I’ve seen event organizers sabotage their own events by not doing any publicity and then wondering why no one shows up.

But despite an imperfect situation – and they’re all imperfect – we came together immediately to make it the best experience it could be.

How did I do? Short term: pretty bad, in terms of sales. Long term: a lot of conversations with librarians looking for programming. Making presentations at libraries is something I enjoy doing that puts me in front of new audiences interested in my books.

The biggest surprise was running into a vendor I’d worked with during those years at CPS. He retired a couple years ago for health reasons but was back helping out in their booth. We always enjoyed the camaraderie that I felt with the authors now: working alongside each other, but not competing. I brought him over to my table and showed him my books. He checked them over and looked around at our happy group of authors. He made a comment about me doing business the same way I always did, welcoming people and being supportive.

“I’m so proud of you,” he smiled.

And that made my day.

 

 

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