Kristin Bair O'Keeffe: Writer. Mom. Teacher. Traveler.

WRITERHEAD: My New Blog & Web Site

As of today, April 1, 2011, my blog and web site are up and running! Ready for visitors!

Visit: www.kristinbairokeeffe.com OR www.writerhead.com

See you there!

New Website and Blog Are A'Coming!

Hey y'all. I know, I know...it looks like I'm neglecting this blog once again. And I suppose I am, but now it's for a terrific reason. I'm putting together a brand-spanking-new website and blog!

I am so excited about this. I want to reveal it all to you today...but can't. Still a secret.

So hold tight and keep checking in. Sometime in the next few weeks I'll be directing you to a new blog.

Whoo-hoo!

10 Back-To-Work Strategies for the Repatriated Writer

If you're a regular here at "My Far-Flung Life," you know that I haven't been getting much work done since late last summer when my family got news that we would be moving back to the U.S. from China (after nearly 5 years in Shanghai). At that point, my writing/work life pretty much came to a screeching/hollering/ba-ba-ba-banging halt.

Since then, instead of hunkering down at my desk every day, I've been "transitioning"--me, my daughter, my husband, our stuff, our life, our grocery store purchases, our snow boot supply, our...(you get the picture).

But today--January 3, 2011--my almost-three-year-old started preschool and I once again have a handful of sacred, silent hours to work.

Aaaahhhh! Sweet writing/working time.

And in the same breath...uuuuuuuggghhhhhhhh! Holy *#(!, I have way too much work to catch up on, like:

• four-month-old emails that I never answered (sorry, sorry, sorry if you're one of these!)
• an outdated website to update (cringe)
• two online courses to design, write, and publicize
• a novel to polish & send out
• writing students to connect with
• on and on it goes...

But honestly, after such a long hiatus, I've got no rhythm. I'm sitting here at my desk staring at the shadows the sun is making on the wall and getting absolutely nothing done. All of which got me thinking about what boosts my productivity and gets me working. Surprise, surprise, I got a list:

1. Make a to-do list.
2. Ignore the 20 or so boxes of stuff from China stacked up around you...the ones you really need to unpack but are NOT going to unpack right now. (Remember, you are working.)
3. Read whatever you're writing out loud. (I just read that out loud. The more I read out loud, the deeper I go into my work. It works, I promise.)
4. Sit cross-legged on your chair. (A must! I cannot work with my feet on the floor.)
5. Focus. Choose one of the gazillion projects on your plate and stay with it. (Forget multi-tasking right now...you're not up for it.)
6. DO NOT LOG ONTO TWITTER!!!!! (Did you hear me? DO NOT LOG ONTO TWITTER!)
7. When you get the urge to call your daughter's preschool to check on her, first look at the clock. If no more than seven minutes have passed since the last time you called to check on her, DO NOT CALL. If an hour or more has passed, go ahead...make the call. Then get your arse back to work.
8. Read something you wrote that works...that you feel good about. (Make sure it's short.) Get inspired. You are pretty darn good at this, you know.
9. Hang a "You love writing!" sign on the wall over your computer. Because you do.
10. And finally, when your husband sends a "Stuff" email listing all the things "we" (meaning "you") need to do, ignore it and get back to work. (Also, resist the urge to strangle said husband when he gets home from work tonight...he's kinda cute and nice to have around...despite his missteps.)

______

Stop Photo Credit: Michal Marcol / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Go Photo Credit: Scott Chan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

2011: My Three Non-Resolutionary Words

Today (the delightful 1.1.11) I'm giving a nod to Chris Brogan and Susan Murphy (a.k.a. SuzeMuse) for sharing the New Year's non-resolution these-are-not-goals 3-word strategy. I love the idea of setting forth three words that don't represent specific goals, but that express the energy and direction of all I want to accomplish in 2011.

So with no more than a few moments of thought behind my three words, here goes:  

TAKE ROOT-- (yeah, two words, I know...but one thought) -- Since receiving news of our recent repatriation from China to the U.S. (way back in late summer 2009), I've disengaged...a lot. I had to; for me, there was no other way to move my family from one side of the world to another AND manage all the emotional, geographical, physical, financial, and career changes that accompanied it. But as my family slowly begins to take root in our new town and our old-new country, I'm feeling the urge to once again reach out and engage...take root myself.

 THRIVE -- "to grow vigorously : flourish : to gain in wealth or possessions : prosper : to progress toward or realize a goal despite or because of circumstances" (pretty self-explanatory, yeah?)

CONSTRUCT -- Just what it implies. I'm a'building this year. Dreaming. Drawing. Seeing. Constructing. Inhabiting. Taking risks. Changing the skyline. Inviting. Sharing what gets built.

And you? Three words?

THIRSTY: Celebrating the One-Year Anniversary

At this time last year, I was celebrating the publication of my novel THIRSTY. I was still living in China, but was in the U.S. promoting the book...joyfully running from event to event. It's hard to believe an entire year has gone by.

I had big plans for this anniversary (balloons, giveaways, blog posts, etc.), but instead I've spent the month of October repatriating to the United States after almost 5 years in China. There's been little time for anything else.

But in the few moments between plane rides and packing and trying to get our two-year-old settled into a routine, I've been quietly re-celebrating the fact that my novel THIRSTY is out in the world for readers to find.

If you've found it and read it, thanks. If not, check it out here or here.

Now...back to the repatriation thing.

Expat in China: 10 of My Favorite Blog Posts from 2009

You know what I'm thinking after re-reading my blog posts from the last 4.5 years? Good gracious Mavis...I've been in China for a good long time. I've seen a lot. I've done a lot. I've explored a lot. And now? Some days I feel like I know something about China; other days I'm pretty sure I don't have a clue.

Either way, here are 10 of my favorite posts from 2009. (If you haven't read my favorite posts from 2006, 2007, or 2008, check them out.)

• "Iron Goddess: A Tea Ceremony"

• "How to Launch a Debut Novel (In the U.S.) from Shanghai, China"

• "The New Website for THIRSTY Has Launched" (Over a year later, and I still love this website. Check it out here.)

• "Got a Dirty Pan? SHOUT it out!" (Still shaking my head at this one.)

• "Baby + Book Deal = Joy, Triumph, Exhaustion, Awe, Amazement, Exhaustion" (If you read any of the posts, read this one. It's the whole story.)

• "The Big, BIG Dog: Old China vs New China" (Still shaking my head at this one, too.)

• "How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families, Part I" (This isn't one of my "favorite" posts, but it's one my most important posts. If you're interested, I've continued on with this series. You can find the others under the "Adoption" category on the blog.)

• "Publication Day! It's Here! October 1, 2009!" (Another uber-amazing day. The publication of my novel THIRSTY.)

• "Boys Against Girls: Toy Store Triumphs In Gender Petrification" (climbing onto my soapbox...)

• "They Freed the Plum Pudding!" (Thank goodness.)

Slow Simmer or Fast Boil: My Take On "20 Under 40"

Whaaaaaaat? You haven’t heard?

A few weeks ago, The New Yorker published its “20 Under 40” list of American writers to watch. You know, the 20 wrinkle-free writers (out of the plethora of American writers) that “capture the inventiveness and the vitality of contemporary American fiction.”

Hhhmm.

This list, as expected, has sent many folks in the writing/publishing world into a mad tizzy. 

Why?

Politically Correct Answer: The politics surrounding which writers were included, why they were included, which writers weren’t included, who is or is not an “American” writer, who did the choosing, etc. are sketchy. (Aren’t all politics?)

Non-Politically Correct Answer: The New Yorker is a snobby, elitist, stroke-your-own publication that prefers one type of risk-free fiction.

Out of curiosity I picked up a copy of the “20 Under 40” issue of The New Yorker and read stories by eight of the chosen writers. (Stories by the remaining writers will be published in upcoming issues, I believe.) Some—like Jonathan Safran Foer whose novel Exremely Loud, Incredibly Close I absolutely love—I was already familiar with. Others I’d never heard of before.

Some I liked.

Some bored me.

Others simply weren't my kind of story.

Since I’ve been jetlagged and unable to accomplish much other than reading (and staring mindlessly into space at all hours of the night), I’ve also been monitoring the hubbub surrounding the publication of this list.

And yowza…it is quite the hubbub. (Nothin’ like a good hubbub, I always say.)

Who's talking about it?

"Who's not?" might be an easier question to answer, but here are some of my favorite responses:

• Steve Almond's friendly-writer-hand-reaching-out-to-support-other-(non-New-Yorker-list)-writers in The Rumpus

• Dzanc Books’ indie-geared alternative “20 Under 40” list

• Gina Frangello’s thoughtful exploration at The Nervous Breakdown

• The Millions impromptu list (which includes, thank you, Kiran Desai)

• Lee Siegel’s lament in The New York Observer over the transition of “writer” from “vocation” to “profession”

• And perhaps the most hope-giving, well-rounded response of all was Robert McCrum’s reminder in The Observer that Walt Whitman (yes, THE Walt Whitman) self-published his first collection of poetry when he was 36 and that his “creative leap forward” didn’t come to fruition until even later than that.

[As always, I believe much truth comes out in the comments sections. Be sure to read the comments sections at each of the above posts to get a feel for how strongly readers/writers feel about this whole thing.]

What do I make of it all?

• It’s human nature to organize things. To compartmentalize. To categorize. We do it in closets, on bookshelves, on iTunes, with friends, with family, with our interior lives. And we all do it differently.

• The New Yorker is an elitist publication with its rather perfect snout in the air. Even so, I enjoy it. (That said, I often skip the fiction & only read the nonfiction.)

• I’ll bet that folks at The New Yorker knew that by publishing this particular list they were stirring a bubbling brew, and I imagine that right now they’re all sitting in an air-conditioned room with great art on the wall, laughing and drinking chai, happy that they’ve once again gotten the larger reading/writing world worked into a frenzy & talking about all the fabulous writers who weren’t included on the list.

• And finally (and most importantly, I think), this hubbub has got me thinking about gestation—about how long it takes any given writer to discover and harness her voice, understand story, live a life, practice writing, know humans a bit, tell the truth, get her ducks in a row, etc.

For some writers, it’s a fast boil.

For others, it’s sloooooooow simmer.

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, does it?

The New Yorker can create its preferred-youngsters list, Steve Almond can make us all laugh and cry about it (thank god), Dzanc can create a kick-ass alternative list, The Nervous Breakdown can explore the intricacies and implications of all lists, the rest of us can Twitter about it, Facebook about it, and maybe even have a quick bathroom-stall sob about the fact that we’re not included on THE list—or, um, any list, for that matter—BECAUSE no matter what, we writers are going to shut ourselves in our offices/coffee shops/cars/tingzijians, dive into writerhead, and write.

It’s what we do.

What we’re driven to do.

In other words, who gives a crap? We're all going to write anyway.

So, writers, two questions for you:

1. Who are your favorite writers (American or not)? Living. Writing & publishing now. Any age at all.
2. Are you a fast boil or a slow simmer?

___

Photos Courtesy of:

Storm: prozac1 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Elephants: Tim Seed / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Books: healingdream / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

On Writing: A Balancing Act

In a tres cool project called Living Architecture: Holidays in Modern Architecture, philosopher/writer/all-around-interesting-idea-guy Alain de Botton* is renting out five mega-modern houses to Regular Joes and Josephines (RJJs) for really, really cheaps.

Why?

So the RJJs can get over their fear of modern architecture in a pleasurable, experiential way.

Like I said, tres cool.

Me...I'm not afraid of modern architecture; in fact, I'd give anything to live in a modern house made of funky materials with an unusual shape and lots of surprises.

But as a writer, there's something else in this Living Architecture thing for me. Ever since I discovered the project earlier this week (via a link on Twitter by @MustardPepper), I've been obsessing about it. Within minutes of reading the Tweet, I'd clicked through all five houses: three that are already built and booking renters and two that will be completed soon. I'd even discovered my favorite..."The Balancing Barn"...a house that immediately resonated with my head, soul, and writing process.

(Before reading further, please click through to a picture of "The Balancing Barn." Otherwise you're going to be lost and confused for the remainder of this post. Let's avoid this potentially hazardous situation.)

Now...those of you who read this blog regularly know that for the past few years I've been working on my second novel and am (knock on wood) almost finished. I'm in what I call the "final, final rewriting" stage and I've been searching for a way to describe to you (and to myself) how I'm working on the manuscript now.

"The Balancing Barn" gave me the answer.

I'm balancing the story.

Take another look at "The Balancing Barn." See how it is perfectly weighted so that one half sits firmly planted on the ground and the other half reaches out-out-out over the meadow?

Gorgeous, isn't it?

The risk? The equilibrium? The humor? The mystery?

It is this kind of balance that I'm working to create in my novel. (It is also these elements: risk, equilibrium, humor, mystery.) And it's not easy. Although there is only one main character in the story, there are three equally important story lines; two very present, very important secondary characters; a cast of lively supporting characters; and a setting that also plays an active role (just as setting did in my first novel Thirsty).

How am I going about balancing it?

There are two parts to the process:

First, the concrete. From Staples in Shanghai, I ordered a load of Post-It Tabs (you know, the skinny, narrow, bookmarky Post-Its) in all kinds of colors. Next I assigned a color to each important character and to each of the three story lines. Then on a printed copy of the manuscript, I tagged every scene with the appropriate character and/or story line Post-It. Once all tags were in place, I could see when one character hadn't made an appearance in a while or when one of the three story lines got dropped for too long.

Obviously this is a complicated, time-consuming process, but it works for me. Once I knew where the gaps were, I was able to dive back into the manuscript. For the past few weeks, I've been writing new chapters and moving others around.

Second, the abstract. Here's how it happens: Before bed, read a few chapters. Ponder them. Play with them. Then sleep, wake up, lie in bed for a few minutes "seeing" the story in my head. Then walk my daughter to school, work out, do the grocery shopping, take a shower. Later, have a margarita with my husband. Read. Eat dumplings. Dream. And at every moment "see" the story in my head...solving problems that seemed unsolvable while sitting at my desk...and allowing the story to grow beyond what is already on the page (which can be wildly difficult once you actually have a story on the page).

Finally, when it feels right, I return to my computer and dive in.

This stage of the rewriting process requires two things: imagination and precision. I think about how the architects who designed and built "The Balancing Barn" went about their work and like to think it was in much the same way.

Now...time for a margarita.

A Bunch of Things I'm Thinking About Today

This morning (Sunday, May 9, Mother's Day), I'm thinking about...

• How when I don't blog for a few days, I get into this weird state of mind that makes me not blog for longer...and longer...and then two or three weeks pass and I realize, oh, crap, two or three weeks have passed since my last blog installment. So...sorry I haven't posted since (gasp!) April 25. I've been writing (novel #2), teaching (yay!), reading student work (missed this), momming (my favorite), planning the upcoming reading (Out Loud! on May 16), and writing some more.

• How much I love how things are moved from place to place in Shanghai. Some like this:

Others like this:

• It's Mother's Day! I love celebrating mummahood and nearly melted when Tully gave me this after school on Friday. She made it herself:

 

• #28 at the massage place around the corner from my house who gave me the most incredible Chinese head & neck massage last night. A life-changing massage. An oh-my-god-I'm-never-getting-up-from-this-table massage.

• How sometime in the middle of the massage, I decided I want to bring #28 home to live with me, buy a massage table and install it in my living room so that at any given moment, I can hop up on it for more life-changing body work. (Let's all bow our heads and pray that #28 does not quit, get fired, or move back to his home province any time soon.)
  

• The fact that I paid a mere $11.50 for this life-changing 1 hour massage and how when I someday move back to the U.S. I will not have these weekly life-changing massages for less than $20.

• Chinglish. It's everywhere in Shanghai. Weird, head-shaking, sometimes embarrassing, sometimes silly translations of Chinese into English. I showed you an example of it in my April 25 post and shortly after that, the NYTimes wrote an article about it (great minds, same track). (Read the NYTimes articles here.) And then, just days after I read in the NYTimes about how Shanghai is trying to get rid of all the Chinglish around town, I see this brand new sign hung above the brand new hospital building down the street from my house. And I laugh. I'm pretty sure Chinglish is here to stay.

• Entrances and exits. I like this one:

• Gouqi (Níngxià gǒuqǐ) & chrysanthemum tea. Love the stuff. And just found out the gouqi berry (also know as goji berry and wolfberry) is amazingly good for you. Check it out at Wiki.

• Out Loud! (the reading series I run in Shanghai) takes place on Sunday, May 16, at 4:00. Steve Thomas and Barb Shaya (two terrific Shanghai writers) are headlining. If you're in our neck of the woods, come on down to the Glamour Bar on the 16th. (More info here.)

• I just finished reading The Calligrapher's Daughter by Eugenia Kim & loved it. Loved it, loved it, loved it. Slowed down near the end so I could make it last longer. (More info about it here.)

• And I'm looking forward to reading Steve Almond's new book, Rock and Roll Will Save Your Life. Mostly because Steve Almond could probably stand perfectly still in an empty room and I'd still fall on the floor laughing. He's funny.

• And finally, because I'm a mom and today is mom's day...a few cute pics of Tully.

(Whew! Thank god that non-blogging feeling is gone.)

Writing The Far-Flung Life: The Life and Times of Expat Writers

Here's the truth. We expat writers have some pretty hilarious, tres bizarro, mega-heart-breaking, uber-adventurous, heads-bowed enlightening, truth-revealing, "no effing way" stories to tell.

We could begin right at this exact moment telling those stories and not be finished until...well, until never. And the entire time we were telling them, you (our audience) would be bent over double with laughter, sobbing like babies, or saying "No effing way" over and over again.

After all, we brave, crazy, passionate expat writers not only travel to exotic locales for spits-and-spots of experience. We actually pack up our homes, our families, our hearts, our underwear, and our bottles of Imodium and MOVE to these exotic locales. We say, "Yeah, bring it on! I want to live in this place...as uncomfortable and confused as I am right now...and I want to...I want to..."

"You want to what?" you ask.

"I want to figure out who I am in relation to this new place. Because I was pretty damn clear about who I was in my home country, but here? Here? This place where I stand out like a sore thumb? I don't have a clue who I am or how I fit in."

"Anything else?" you ask.

"Yeah, I want to KNOW this place. Not just a little, but a lot. As much as an outsider can, I guess."

"That's a mighty tall order," you say in a John Wayne drawl because maybe you are an American.

"Yeah, but I've got a while."

Then we expat writers live in these locales for...one, two, three, four, even ten years...witnessing cultural clashes, cultural enlightenments, medicine-resistant illnesses, language conundrums, awe-inspiring kindnesses, life-changing revelations, strange fish-stomping deaths, unfamiliar burial rites, and perhaps most importantly, everyday life. We eat funky foods and compare this to that. We stare, get stared at, drop chopsticks, make friends, make mistakes, and finally, let the old shift as the new seeps in.

And of course we write about it. Because that's what we do. Because like all writers, we are obsessed with getting our stories onto the page...with working life out in pen and ink (or via the clickety-click).

But something else happens as well.

We start to change. We look in the mirror and say, "Who the hell are you?" We thumb through the myriad of stamps in our passports and say, "Who the hell am I?" We study the addresses on our mail and say, "Home?"

Because at some point...some critical point...we stop feeling like citizens of a single country...and instead feel like citizens of...well...the world.

How effing corny and wonderful and confusing and unlikely is that? There's no precedent for being a "citizen of the world." As far as I know, there's no "citizen of the world" anthem. No "citizen of the world" constitution. No "citizen of the world" rule book. No "citizen of the world" flag. There aren't any traditional "citizen of the world" costumes or sports clubs to cheer for.

Just what holidays does a citizen of the world celebrate? Tet? Chinese New Year? Passover? Christmas? And if Christmas, Santa Claus or Sinterklaas?

So once we feel this way, what do we do?

Well, you know, we're writers--expat writers-- so we do what we always do. We keep telling stories. And we find ways of sharing those stories with you (our audience)...wherever you are...back in our "home" countries...here in our adopted countries...or in the countries we touch down in along the way.

And hopefully, you (our beloved audience) read them.

_______

Thanks to Francesco Marino and djcodrin for the digital artwork.