Kelly Moore Writes

Neil Gaiman says “I think it’s really important for a writer to have a compost heap. Everything you read, things that you write, the things that you listen to, people you encounter– they can all go on the compost heap. And they will rot down. And out of them grow beautiful stories.”

I first heard this quote in 2020, when the world was in a state of conflicting ennui and hope. We had been driven inside during pandemic, cut off from most of the world. Many struggled with depression and financial insecurities, or anxiety about the future. Conversely, it felt, at least for a little while, like human beings were pulling together to find the good in the world. Pollution was down, more people were looking for ways to spread joy. Most of my creative friends looked at this as an opportunity to hone their crafts. While others, like myself, found creating nearly impossible.

But, we made it out of 2020 into 2021. I made the crazy decision to get certified to be a teacher and to coach two dance teams despite having zero dance experience (unless you count the one year of tap dance I begged my mom for in the third grade). These endeavors took a herculean amount of energy and time. (Getting up at 4:30 every morning to coach meant that my late-night spurts of creative writing were no longer feasible since I basically dropped into the bed already asleep around 9:00 PM) When I did have a day off, I’d find myself clinging to my bed, trying to catch up on lost hours, and then having no energy or drive to do anything more physically exerting than playing mobile games or wasting time on 30 second clips made by complete strangers that aren’t even funny. 

But I remembered Neil Gaiman’s advice about the compost heap and decided maybe 2021 was a year that I let the field lay fallow. Maybe it’s the year I accumulate material, and let things sit and settle. So I focused not on writing as much as I focused on reading, filling my brain with beautiful stories and lush prose. This year I read or listened to 55 books. I’ll post a list of my favorites from this year next time. 

Those of you who know me personally know that I like to stay busy. Social distancing and working from home last Spring was pretty difficult for this extrovert, but I managed for several months.

When restaurants started opening up again my husband took me out for a late dinner at a local steakhouse. I noticed that the tables weren’t bussed and the one waitress on duty looked stressed, even though she kept a megawatt smile on her face. I mentioned how busy she seemed and she informed me that they were hiring.

I looked excitedly at my husband, who looked unsurprised and a little resigned when I asked for an application.

“You’ve never waitressed before,” he reminded me.

“I’ve always wanted to though.” And besides it was in a cool historic, reportedly haunted, hotel and museum and I was currently researching small town ranching and thought I could get some ideas for one of my WIPs (Works in Progress).

Things started like a whirlwind. On my second day I ended up working back to back shifts at two separate locations, and things didn’t slow down. It was fun and interesting and I was gathering so much good material. But when my other job at the middle school started back up, it was a struggle to balance things. I had really grown to love my coworkers and the restaurant (the tips weren’t bad either).

But, even though it was causing me stress, I didn’t want to quit. Other people were quitting and I felt guilty, even though I had only meant to work until the end of summer. So, I struggled along and made the best of things.

This went on for a few months. Then I saw this post on Facebook- I’m not sure where it originated, but I will credit it when I find it- that made me rethink things:

It made me reflect on why I always feel the need to juggle three jobs, my family, my housework, my spiritually, my writing, my hobbies, etc. It’s true that I am more productive and happier when I have an outside job or calling, but why am I always agreeing to do so many things? It’s all a form of procrastinating.

So I did it. I quit my job at the restaurant. And I’m going to use that research I’ve gathered to finish that novel and stop putting things off that need my attention. It was hard because I hate disappointing people or feeling like I let someone down. But sometimes in life, doing what you need to do for your own mental health will mean letting someone else down. Do what’s best for you anyway.

Let me preface this by saying that rejection is hard. I’m not trying to make light of the fact that for many of us, our writing is an extension of self. Rejection can feel deeply personal, even when it’s not meant to be.  But for me, at this stage in my life, rejection brings me joy.

I spent the majority of my writing life as a bit of a hoarder. I was prolific, but I never let anyone read my work. I would have never even entertained the thought of submitting. The whole process seemed front with peril, and oft en complicated. I had experienced some early success with my writing and it actually kind of petrified me. The likelihood that I could maintain that success was slim; I just knew eventually people would figure out that I had no talent and it would crush me.

I’ve recently started sending out more of my poetry and short stories. I always get a a little thrill of anxiety I click submit. It’s probably the only time my anxiety can be described as thrilling, honestly. The risk is worth it. It’s usually followed by a rush of adrenaline and a swelling of pride. “I did something scary and I didn’t die!”

And the rejections started trickling in…

And you know what? It was weirdly validating. I began to realize that the responses were all polite and encouraging. They didn’t say that I was a terrible writer. Instead, they said thank you for submitting but it’s not the right fit. And that’s ok. Because as the the “no thank you”s add up I feel a kinship to Stephen King or J.K. Rowling or any number of successful writers who had to first run this obstacle course. It’s evidence of the hard work I’m putting in now, and that gives me a lot of joy. I’m proud that instead of sitting on the bench, I’m taking shots. I’m trying! And I don’t crave the rejection- I’d absolutely love to be published again, but I’m no longer petrified with fear. I’m moving in the right direction and I think that should be celebrated!

Daylight savings time is a beast. It robs me of several hours of productivity every fall. There is something about it being dark by 5:00 p.m. that is terrifically depressing. While there’s a part of me that thinks hey this is cozy I can curl up is a good book and a blanket and read the hours away, there is another part of me (the responsible adult and parent) that just feels tired and still needs to cook dinner for her family every single night. So, I spend most of November and all of December waiting waiting for the winter solstice when daylight slowly seeps back into the world.

We’ve been stuck at home in quarantine because of covid-19, which admittedly, sucks. But one positive thing I’ve noticed is that when we get to spend more time in the daylight than we would if we were at school or work. And the weather has been a balmy 60°the last three days. We’ve been out soaking it in as much as possible. Vitamin D levels drop in the winter and when my vitamin D levels are low, I’m prone to depression and my anxiety spikes. Anxiety isn’t too good right now anyway since the pandemic, but I’m doing as much self-care as possible.

Nanowrimo is going well, so I’m not quite as prolific as I had hoped. Starting with a new topic each day is a lot more challenging than just continuing where your characters left off the day before I’m finding. Each short story requires fully developed characters, interesting plot, and realistic setting all within a few pages. I find the restrictions exhilarating, really. I remember there being a huge argument about form versus creativity when I was in college. The argument related primarily to poetry, I can see how being constrained by form can actually ignite one’s creativity. As many of you know, I am a huge Sherlock fan. Within my fandom, there is a form called the 221B. this is a piece of fanfiction that is written in 221 words the last word has to end with the letter b. They are incredibly fun to read and challenging to write. So I find the challenge of writing a short story daily pretty invigorating, but also very, very challenging . Hopefully, I will get some good short stories and I will have to filter out all the terrible ones at the end of the month. Meanwhile, here are a few pictures of my neighborhood.

I was recently published in an online literary journal called Segullah. This is my third poem with them and I am really happy with how it turned out.

http://segullah.org/journal/fall-poetry-offerings/