Life in LA

The Home Stretch

I'm nearing the end of my book. Section Three is definitely proving the most challenging of the three. It's a little more abstract and I've been running up against a lot of resistance to working on it. Section Three is about me and about how I've managed to get to this place of peace and healing. It's hard to write about, difficult to articulate. I know I can do it though. I want to do it. I'm wondering as well if I'm simply procrastinating on finishing the book. It's going to be really strange to be done. I'm truly going to miss these days, these purposeful mornings, the incredible process it's been. In other news: Check out this hilarious piece by Greg Boose on The Big Jewel (scroll down aways to read it). Anyone familiar with Craig's List will totally appreciate it—I've read it like six times and I laugh out loud every time.

Lately

I've been busy lately.

With all sorts of things.

Mainly writing. I'm almost finished with my book. I'm about to hit a stride with section 3 and I'm determined to finish the section, and the whole book, in the next ten days.

I'm going to Cape Cod for the Fourth of July and am determined to finish my book by then. And I will. I have no doubt about it.

This week I'm really going to buckle down. I've been pretty social lately, lots of dinners and friends stopping by for lunches, serving quiche on the deck still in my nightie from writing all morning. It's been lovely.

Had the nicest day yesterday with my dear friend Will. Drove up to Los Olivos for a special wine tasting at a vineyard I'm particularly fond of. We picnicked under breezy tents, took a hayride up through the vineyards, looking out over the beautiful land, all those grape vines, clouds scudding across the impossibly blue sky. And then we drove to the ocean and floated on our backs in the giant, swelling Pacific ocean. It was all heavenly.

My summer is getting full. Lots of plans and changes and trips coming up: Cape Cod for the Fourth, Chicago for the Pitchfork Music Festival, Cozumel for some travel writing...

But first, my book. Finishing this book will be profound. And that's what I'll be doing all week. Really being with it all, reveling in these last days of writing it.

The Edge of Infinity

I just finished this morning's work on Section Three.

This chapter takes place in the moments following my father's death. Here's a short audio clip:

(You might need to download QuickTime to hear it.)

The Edge of Infinity:

You can access a complete list of all audio clips in the About Me section of this blog.

Taking Stock

It's a sunny Monday morning in Venice and the garbage trucks are roaring up and down my usually quiet street.

I can hardly believe that I began writing this book only nine weeks ago.

Yesterday I completed Section Two and today I will begin the third and final section.

The whole manuscript stands at 48,000 words and 240 pages so far.

I said to a friend the other night that I feel like I've already written this book somewhere inside of me, that all I have to do is sit down at my desk every day, put my fingers on the keyboard, and it just pours out. It's the most amazing feeling.

I stayed in all weekend writing. I graduated on Friday and there were lots of parties I could have gone to this weekend but I just wanted to write...and I was determined to finish Section Two yesterday. On Saturday morning I saw a few clients and then I came home and put my nightie back on and I stayed at my desk writing until almost midnight. I wrote four or five chapters.

And then I turned off all the lights in my house, closed the blinds, and tucked myself into bed. I woke up yesterday morning and went straight back to the computer, wrote the final three chapters of Section Two and was finished and showered and at the grocery store by 2pm.

I can't even express how grateful I've been for this whole process. It's truly been remarkable. And I already can't wait to do it again—I know the next two books I want to write.

This week I'm working on a book proposal and will start sending it out to agents. I've written to a bunch of my writer friends and they've been incredibly helpful with advice and contacts.

And this week I'll also send the first two sections to a couple of friends. I'm a little nervous but it's time.

You can listen to the beginning of Section Three below. It's only a couple of minutes long.

(You might need to download QuickTime to hear it.)

Life in LA:

You can access a complete list of all audio clips in the About Me section of this blog.

Father's Day

It's two-thirty in the afternoon, on this a sunny Sunday Father's Day.

I just finished Section Two of my book and it wrenched something fierce out of me to do so.

To write about those last moments of my father's life, about him unconscious in his bedroom in his condominium in Garden Grove, me holding his hand as he took his last breaths, tears staining the blanket across his chest.

I wept as I wrote about these things, could hardly see the screen but knew the words that were appearing there nonetheless.

I miss my father so much. He was the kindest, most gentle, most wonderful man I've ever known. He taught me more about life and love and compassion than I'll ever understand.

Moving Forward

I graduated from my Master's program yesterday, in a big spectacle of caps and gowns and champagne and friends and family and it was all really quite lovely and moving and overwhelming and I can't believe it's all over.

A student speaker from my psychology program said that what he learned, above all else in this program, was compassion.

And I couldn't agree more. All the classes I took, the teachers I had, the students I got to know, the things we experienced together, the work I've begun to do as a result, opened my eyes to the world in a way I never anticipated.

And that is truly what I will walk away with from this whole experience. Compassion.

For myself, for others, and for what we all share.

I cried last night in the bathtub. I let myself miss my parents for the first time in a long time. They would have liked to see me walk across that stage yesterday to accept my diploma, I think. And I would have liked them to be there.

Strange to think about how their deaths have made me the woman I am though. Their deaths have made me more open and kind and compassionate than I ever would have been had they lived.

And for that I am grateful.

These Lives We Live

Today has been a nice writing day.

I thought my cousin Steffani was due in this morning but it turns out that she won't be here until this evening so I've been at my desk all day, writing away.

I really want to finish this section on Sunday. How interesting, huh? To finish my mother's section on Mother's Day and my father's section on Father's Day.

And I want to finish the whole book by August, which I don't think will be difficult.

I'm going to start working on a book proposal next week and I'd like to finish it and send it out before I leave for a fourth of July vacation to Cape Cod.

Plans, plans, plans.

Here's audio from today. It's a chapter about a trip to the Czech Republic I took with my Dad when he was researching his WWII backgroud.

(You might need to download QuickTime to hear it.)

These Lives We Live:

You can access a complete list of all audio clips in the About Me section of this blog.

The Storm Before the Calm

I've been having strange dreams the last few nights...all of them involving travel. Me on an airplane, an enormous steel beast hurtling through the skies...me in my car, winding as fast as I can around perilously curving cliffs.

Somehow everything just got sped up. My classes ended last week in a blaze of last minute papers and presentations. My cousin Steffani arrives tomorrow and my aunt and uncle on Thursday. My formal graduation is on Friday. I just took on a new client, whom I'm seeing twice a week.

It's been a lot lately.

And all I want more than anything is quiet. Soft days, the ocean breeze pushing at the screens, my fingers on the keyboard, sun shifting across the deck.

Beginning next week I can have all of that. Graduation weekend will have come and gone and I'll have a lot more free time without my classes to go to.

And I just want to write. And write. And write.

And be quiet.

I'm deep into the latter half of section two of my book. I've been writing about my father for weeks now and this past week it's been all WWII stuff. I've been immersed in his old research and writing about the air wars over Europe in which he participated, about his experience as a POW, and about a trip we took together to the Czech Republic. It's been nice. Interesting and challenging.

I'm still hoping to finish this section by Father's Day, which is Sunday. This might involve writing all day and into the evening on Saturday, which actually sounds appealing.

From a journal my father kept towards the end of his time as a POW, just after the Germans were defeated:

May 1, 1945

I shall never forget this day as long as I shall live! The excitement of this morning had worn off somewhat. The only German troops we saw were a handful that surrendered to us rather than evacuate. After gorging ourselves all day and listening to a few short wave radio programs broadcast over the public address system we had salvaged from the German equipment, we resigned ourselves to another blackout night much the same as before.

Suddenly over the loudspeaker came the announcement above rousing cheers from the South Compound that the Russians had arrived! Wild! You should have seen the boys cut loose! They hugged each other, did a victory dance in the halls and cheered the Russians with the full capacity of their lungs. We were interrupted by another announcement that the German radio had just admitted the death of Adolph Hitler. We went wild! The climax came a few minutes later when the Star Spangled Banner was played over the P.A. system. I have never been more deeply stirred, and every man there felt the same way.

All were standing stiffly at attention and there were tears in more than one man’s eyes. Only a prisoner of war could understand this feeling.

Who I've Become

Last night I attended the final class of my graduate program.

My formal graduation is June 15th, but I've officially completed my masters degree.

Claire Bidwell Smith, MA

I wonder what my parents would think of that! They'd be so proud, I think!

I left class last night and walked across the courtyard, my high heels clicking on the stone path, laptop held to my chest, and I couldn't help but think about how far I've come since beginning this program.

More than anything, I was struck by how peaceful I felt. I walked across the courtyard and up the steps to the parking garage and I got in my car all by myself and sat there for a moment, so content to be alone, content in the knowing that I would go home alone to my little house, wonderous at the peacefulness that came with that knowlege.

A couple of years ago, something like completing a new degree would have driven me to a place of self-hatred and remorse. That may sound extreme but for so long, after the loss of my parents, I just couldn't see the purpose of anything.

It wasn't enough to do something like that for myself. I needed someone else to validate that accomplishment. I needed someone else to be proud of me, to be invested in me, to care that I did this or that.

I don't feel like that anymore. At all. I got in my car last night and I didn't feel like I had to call anyone or like I needed anyone to care whether or not I finished school.

The funny thing is that I did have people to call. I do have people that are really proud of me. I did have friends to go out with, to celebrate with, and I went out with them.

But the difference lies in the fact that I could have turned the ignition in my car and driven home without talking to another person and I still would have felt just as wonderously happy and peaceful and grateful.

Who I Was Supposed To Be

I wrote all day today and it felt good.

I wrote about New York and the first summer that I lived there.

Just writing that sentence a cascade of memories washes over me...New York in the summer...the way the whole city feels, sitting outside at little cafes at night, sweat sliding down the backs of my legs, the air conditioner drips on the sidewalk, the occasional waft of cold air as you pass the door to a department store....I'll never forget that first summer, my impressions of the city, of myself at age twenty.

Anyway...here's new audio from today:

(You might need to download QuickTime to hear it.)

Who I Was Supposed To Be:

You can access a complete list of all audio clips in the About Me section of this blog.