Yeah, Write

Join Me for the 52 Stories Project

 

I always have a handful of journals going at any one time. There's my main chronological journal, where I record major life events along with insights, inspiration, life lessons, spiritual impressions and more. I also try to keep up with my 5-year question a day journal, which will wrap up at the end of March. I have an Evernote file, where I keep ongoing bulleted lists, one for each month, to record my daughter's milestones, phases, funny sayings and more. Then there are a few themed computer files, where other random memories go. 

This year, I'm adding a new project to the list. It's the #52stories project sponsored by FamilySearch, whom I happen to write for. The idea is to write one story from your personal history every week for a year, based on a question or prompt. To make it easy for me (and for you), I wrote a total of 144 questions based on 12 monthly themes, so there are plenty of options to choose from each week. 

You can download the full set of questions at the bottom of my "Define Your Dash" article, and I'll post January's list below. (Here's another version of the article, written with a stronger religious slant, but the downloads and questions are the same.) Or here's a direct link to the 12-page pdf. 

The first question I answered in my new journal is the very first question on the list: What is your earliest memory of feeling proud of yourself? I didn't labor over my response; I just quickly poured out my thoughts in a few minutes. If I put too much pressure on myself to compose perfect sentences, write brilliant life-changing stories, and never misspell anything or cross out a word, I'll never stick with the project. I'm just going to do it, reminding myself that a memory recorded imperfectly is far better than a memory not recorded at all. 

To keep this project simple and doable over the course of the year, I chose a small, 56-page journal, leaving me with just enough space to answer each question on a single-sided sheet of 5 x 8 notebook paper. Having this kind of boundary in place keeps me from spending too much time on each question. After all, this isn't my comprehensive life story. It's just a way to get into the habit of reflecting over my life and writing quickly and succinctly. In the end, I'm sure some of these stories will spark more in-depth memories that I may want to write about in another venue, such as another of my journals, an article for Family Search, or a story I upload to my profile on Family Tree (so it can be found by future generations of my family). 

Here are a few additional tips:

1. Remember there are immediate personal benefits that come from journaling. This is not just a gift to future generations; it's a gift to yourself. Writing is a therapeutic act. It can give your life a sense of purpose and control. It can reveal hidden blessings and patterns. It can help you make sense of past events and current experiences. It puts you in the driver's seat of your life story—you get to decide what you write about and how you interpret and connect past events. Take this chance to own your story.

"In his book The Happiness Advantage, Harvard professor Shawn Achor cites research that shows how “explanatory style—how we choose to explain the nature of past events—has a crucial impact on our happiness and future success. People with an optimistic explanatory style interpret adversity as being local and temporary . . . while those with a pessimistic explanatory style see these events as more global and permanent. Their beliefs then directly affect their actions” ([New York: Crown Publishing, 2010], 187–88)."

2. Give your memory time to work. If you try to select a question and answer it in a single 15-minute session, you may find yourself drawing a blank. Read over all the questions at the beginning of the month, and read them again at the beginning of each week. Pick one (or a couple) and let your subconscious mind work on them for a few days, so by the time you sit down to write, you'll have something to say. When you tune your mind in to a particular memory or time period, you'll be surprised at what surfaces as you go about your daily life.

3. Go off script. Don't feel beholden to the questions provided for you in the 52 Stories project. One of the questions might spark a memory that's completely unrelated to the question itself. If another story is more inspiring to you, share THAT memory instead. Follow where your memories take you. And if you want to answer a November question in January, go ahead. This is your project, and you get to make the rules.

4. Let go of chronological pressure. The questions in this project are arranged by theme, not by date order. The stories you tell will be random, pulled from many different periods of your life. Embrace the random nature of the project. This is just a collection of stories, not your comprehensive life story. But the project has the potential to make you a better writer, get you in the habit of exploring your past, and even put you in the mindset to write your comprehensive life story.

5. Be creative with the form of your answers. You don't have to answer each question with a paragraph-style response. Some questions might be better answered with a bulleted list. For example, the question, "What do you consider your greatest academic achievement?" can either be answered with a thorough description of a specific paper you wrote, a difficult class you passed, or your graduation ceremony. Or it could be a list of all the achievements you can remember from throughout your school career.

6. Get family members involved. See if you can get siblings, parents, or grandparents to join you in the 52 Stories project. You could even use this opportunity to ask an older relative a question each week and record his or her answers with your smartphone or another voice recorder. 

7. Follow Family Search on Instagram. Throughout 2017, Family Search will post a question every week to their Instagram account (some are from the 144 questions listed on the PDF downloads, some are new and different). Follow along to see how other people respond. Reading other people's memories can inspire memories of your own. And you might encounter a question you like even better than those on the monthly themed quizzes. 

8. Find ALL the #52Stories downloads here. You can print a giant 3 ft x 4 ft. poster containing all 144 questions to hang on your wall (there are two different styles). You can print the Monthly Themed Quizzes on 12 sheets of 8.5 x 11 paper. Or you can just get inspired by them all online. It's up to you!

 

5 Writing Tips for More Readable Personal Stories

Here are five simple tips for making your personal stories, family-history writing and scrapbook journaling more interesting and inviting. Because interesting is always better than boring. That's my personal motto. 

"Interesting! Of course! People LOVE interesting writing!"
—Elaine from Seinfeld, circa 1997

1. Keep it short. 

In writing, as in conversation, audiences appreciate it when you get to the point quickly. If you must meander, make sure there's a purpose for every detour—it should either add important context, personality, or humor to your story. Just because a thought came to mind while you were writing doesn't mean it belongs where you put it. After you've written an initial draft, read through your story again with your finger poised over the delete key. Here are the three easiest places to cut when brevity is the goal:

• Remove repetitive sentences. Look for the same idea expressed two or more times in close proximity and cut out the extras. 
• Omit filler phrases. Get rid of those introductory phrases that plant themselves in your story while you're composing but serve no other purpose than to take up space. Think of them as weeds that are choking out your flowers. Examples are "now that I think about it" or "and the truth is" or "believe it or not."
• Delete unnecessary words. Cut out half of your adjectives, especially vague and overused adjectives like "very" and "so."

Just three meaningful sentences, plus a fragment. Short and sweet.

2. Embrace lists.

When you're drowning in facts, switch to a list. I use bulleted lists on scrapbook pages, on my blog, in all forms of my professional writing, and even in my personal, handwritten journal. One clue that a bulleted list is needed is when you find yourself struggling to connect a bunch of random or disparate facts together in paragraph form—and you start getting bored along the way. A short bulleted list also makes your ideas friendlier to read. See #1 above. 

 

Lists aren't just for facts, though. They can also be handy devices for framing a story. For example: 

• "10 Things I Didn't Know About My Grandfather While He Was Alive"
• "What I Remember About My Grandma's House"
• "A Few Quick Updates About My Life" (I use this one in my journal all the time)
• "Things I Miss Most About My Mom"
• "12 Life Lessons Learned from Great-Grandma Milliken"
• "10 Things I Love About My Life Right Now" (great for a scrapbook page)
• "Highlights from Our Hawaiian Vacation" (also great for a scrapbook page)

What do you know, I just used another list. 

This photo inspired me to list everything I could remember about my grandma Hill's house.

 

3. Pick an angle.

It can be tempting to include everything you know or remember about a particular event or story, but the most interesting stories are told within a framework or from a specific angle. Imagine you're writing or scrapbooking about a birthday party. You could share everything about it, encyclopedia-entry style (who was there, what was on the menu, what gifts were given, etc.). Or you could approach it from a unique direction by asking yourself questions that will help you zero in on the most interesting and story-worthy aspects of that event. 

 

Here are a few sample questions to ask yourself:

• Why am I really making this page or telling this story? 
• How was this birthday party different from every other birthday party I've attended?
• How was it the same?
• Who was the most interesting or unexpected guest?
• What was the most unexpected gift? 
• How do these photos make me feel?

You may discover that your real purpose is to share your thoughts about how quickly your children are growing up, or realize this was the last birthday party grandma attended before she passed away, or notice a tradition that you've carried on from your own childhood...and suddenly you have a more interesting angle for your story. 

 

For an example of a family-history story told from a strong angle, read all about Mona's Mustard Sauce, which I also attached to my grandmother's name in my family tree on FamilySearch.org.

 

A page that was originally about Keira and her puppy learning to climb the stairs turned into a brief reflection on life itself.

 

 

4. Be authentic.

Remember that what you say is more important than how you say it. Which would you rather read: a fascinating story told imperfectly? Or a series of grammatically pure, impeccably written sentences that say nothing in particular?

 

Don't let your insecurities about your spelling, grammar, punctuation or vocabulary hold you back from sharing the stories of your life. Just write the way you speak—it's important to let your personality shine through—and make an effort to polish it a little bit to make it friendlier for others to read. Because no one wants an unfiltered glimpse into the inner workings of your mind. (Wink.)

 

The core of authenticity, though, is a willingness to be real. Tell the truth of your life, not the glossy version that you wish were the truth. You've struggled and triumphed, you've learned and grown. You have nuggets of wisdom to share. So share them. 

 

This is me being real. These are all things that were once true about me, but are no longer, written in a simple, unstructured list.

 

5. Take your time—some of the time. 

Remember that not every page or story must be a literary masterpiece. Certain types of stories and pages can be told quickly using lists of facts, photo captions, free-form writing and more. But when you uncover a story that means a lot to you, spend some time writing and revising it. Shape it and hone it until it truly reflects the vision of the story that exists in your mind. 

 

Not every scrapbook page can or should include long, paragraph-style journaling. Not every story you write for your family history must be detailed or in-depth. Make most of your stories "good enough" and save your journaling genius for the pages and stories that matter most to you. Your care and attention will shine through, and those who encounter your work down the road will be able to tell: this is a story that matters. 

 

For this page, the photo doesn't tell much of a story on its own, so I took more time crafting my story. I wrote it first in pencil, then rewrote my second draft in pen, revising as I went. I had additional details to share that didn't fit in my journaling block, so I also wrote a bulleted list of memories around the edge of the page.

 

Further Resources

• Listen to the latest Paperclipping Roundtable podcast, where fellow guest Elizabeth Dillow and I discuss ways to craft more interesting stories with hosts Izzy and Noell Hyman.
• Also read Elizabeth Dillow's five excellent tips for making your scrapbook journaling more interesting on her blog, A Swoop and a Dart.

 

Unleashing the Power of School Lunch

It turns out that the topic of school lunch has an almost magical ability to draw out of people authentic memories and stories from their childhood. It certainly did for me. Who knew?

And that's the topic of the "big idea" that I'm sharing inside the FREE Big Idea Festival over at bigpictureclasses.com today. (Join in on the fun here. Today's the last day!)

I've got an 8-minute video that's all about writing for the sake of writing (and also school lunch), a memory dump for you to read (brought to you by Southland Elementary School, circa 1984), a challenge for you to try, and the rest of the scrapbook page you see below. Yes, that's me in the 2nd grade. Aren't you just dying to pinch my cheeks?

My big idea was inspired by Anne Lamott, author of the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, which I originally borrowed from the library but then had to purchase because it's that good. 

Here's a portion of the lengthy quote that I shared in my video. This is Lamott's quick memory dump, an exercise she frequently has her writing students try, and it's focused solely on the sandwiches from her elementary school years:

"Your sandwich was the centerpiece, and there were strict guidelines. It almost goes without saying that store-bought white bread was the only acceptable bread. There were no exceptions. If your mother made the white bread for your sandwich, you could only hope that no one would notice. You certainly did not brag about it, any more than you would brag that she also made headcheese. And there were only a few things that your parents could put in between the two pieces of bread. Bologna was fine, salami and unaggressive cheese were fine, peanut butter and jelly were fine if your parents understood the jelly/jam issue.”

“Grape jelly was best, by far, a nice slippery comforting sugary petroleum-product grape. Strawberry jam was second; everything else was iffy. Take raspberry, for instance—...It felt like there were all these tiny little pod people in it. It was Body-Snatcher jam.”

When you're overwhelmed by what to say or where to start, Lamott suggests starting by describing solely what you can see through a 1-inch picture frame. So she started with the sandwich.

When I delved into my own childhood memories from the Southland Elementary cafeteria, images of "hot lunch" surfaced the strongest for me, although I think I brought "cold lunch" from home in my blue Smurfs lunch box just as often.

In my own memory dump, which you'll find inside the Big Idea Festival classroom today, I share a little bit of everything, including the dramatic story of a classmate who choked on a hot dog and was saved from certain death by Mr. Wright the Janitor and his knowledge of the Heimlich manuever.

Does anyone else remember these lunchtrays? And did you know you can purchase them on etsy.com and even Amazon?

This is the lunchbox I had as a child. I can remember exactly how it smelled at the end of the day when my mom opened it to empty out the crumpled plastic baggies filled with remnants and crumbs.

Today's the last day you can register for the festival, and once you register, you're free to go back and watch all previous 13 big ideas shared so far—and you'll have eternal access to everything! I'd love to see you share your own school-lunch memories inside the Big Idea Festival for your chance to win something cool.

 

Breaking the Baby Stereotype

She'll mingle with goats.

And ride on a pony that's 50 times her size.

But she won't go near a baby bunny. Or a baby lamb. Or a baby duck, turkey, or chick. No way. Not a chance. And the look of terror that crosses her face when she's coaxed to reach out and pet one of these tiny creatures cannot be described.

Hmmm. Big animals = climb aboard! No big deal. Tiny animals = climb the nearest adult's pant leg, whether or not you know the adult to whom the leg belongs.

Other Ways Keira Breaks the Baby Mold
She barely tolerates milk, but she loves imported French mineral water. LOVES it.

She never developed stranger anxiety. She has always let almost anyone hold her, at least for a second or two.

She'd rather drink water than juice.

She likes low-fat Mozzarella much better than higher-fat Cheddar. In general, she automatically dislikes anything with calories in it, which is unfortunate since we're doing everything we can to help her bust out of that 5th percentile in height and weight.

She doesn't mind taking naps. You mention "nap" or "bedtime," and she starts humming her favorite lullaby. (If you hum something other than her favorite lullaby while rocking her to sleep, she will interrupt you.)

But there's one way that Keira is a very sterotypical 18-month-old toddler: she was petrified of the Easter Bunny at the mall. She temporarily sprouted kitten claws just so she could cling to my sweater for dear life.

It's All About Perspective

Shot with my Hipstamatic for iPhone
Lens: John S
Flash: Off
Film: Ina's 1969

The view from my back yard. That hideous tangle of power lines gives me a jolt of annoyance every time I look out my back window. Or it used to.

Enter a houseguest, visiting from one of the flatter states. She and I were standing on my back patio, and just as I had opened my mouth to apologize for living in an old neighborhood with ugly, exposed power lines (when so many of the surrounding neighborhoods have buried lines), she said:

"Look at that view! I'd love to have such gorgeous mountains right in my back yard. You are so lucky."

My mouth snapped shut.

Of course. It really is a stunning view. My focus has been all wrong.

It's my choice to look past the ugly and drink in the beauty just beyond, rising majestically in the distance.

Journaling Prompt
What areas of your life could use a new view? Have you had a recent epiphany that changed your perspective about the blessings in your life? What ugly scenes, memories, and moments have hidden beauty looming behind them, if you'd only open your eyes and see? Take a moment to write about it.

Happiness in Hindsight

I have tons to do today (who doesn't?) but I had to pause and capture some thoughts that have been coursing through my head.

I've always been puzzled by the quote: "Happiness isn't something you experience; it's something you remember." ~Oscar Levant

I wasn't always sure I agreed with that. I know I've experienced happiness, joy, or delight and recognized the feeling at the time. But the truth of this phrase is becoming more and more clear to me.

Recently, after a 6-mile training run for an upcoming half-marathon, I included the following as my Facebook update: "It's all coming back to me now: long runs are only fun in hindsight."

Because, once the run is over, the side aches and swollen fingers and mind games (just run to that red car, okay you can make it to that tall tree, okay now just one more block...) melt completely away, and I'm left with the distance my legs carried me. And feelings of power and pride. Looking back, that run was a good time.

And that somehow reminds me of that Baz Luhrman "talk-song" from the '90s, which was based on a graduation speech by Mary Schmich. It started, "Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth."

I loved that. I'd turn it up and soak it in whenever it played on the radio of my gold Mazda 626. And I made this phrase my mantra. I said to myself again and again, "Enjoy this. Appreciate this." But how?

Part of me wanted to prove wrong the next part of the song: "Oh, nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked."

And now that the years have passed, I get it. I'm hardly old and decrepit. I'm not quite ready for the rest home. But I get it. It's true.

I couldn't appreciate the power and beauty of youth, not really, not until after the fact. (Which is something I try to tell my 24-year-old sister all the time.) Because along with the power and beauty, there was angst, there was insecurity and uncertainty, there were heartbreaks and hurdles.

But, oh, I tried to appreciate being young. I'd look in the mirror and tell myself to be happy about my lack of wrinkles, the youthful glow of my skin. And I was as happy as I could be about it. But without the context of age and experience, how could I appreciate it, really? At the moment, I was who I was and couldn't imagine being anyone else.

"The question before me...is how to be alive,...as this mere singing wren, who thinks he's alive forever, this instant, and may be." ~Wendell Barry

And all that looking in the mirror would do was make me afraid for the time when those things would no longer be true. If I love my smooth, clear skin now (which, let's face it, was never as clear and smooth as I'm now remembering it), won't I hate it when the dreaded crow's feet and smile lines carve their way into my features? Won't I be desperate to go back?

This has all arisen because of an inescapable fact: babies accelerate time. They do. And this is coming from a person who is NOT unacquainted with the phrase "they grow up too fast." I have a 6 ft. 3 in. guitar-playing teenager living in my house who was a 7-year-old, blond, Harry Potter lookalike just moments ago. (He looked like the original book cover art, not Daniel Radcliffe, mind you.)

So now, with Keira Jane playing at my feet while I type, I tell myself, "this goes so fast, enjoy every moment."And I do focus a lot of energy on watching, listening, cuddling, and trying to memorize everything about her. Remember this, remember this, remember this.

But try as I may, there's no way I can appreciate her enough right now. I'll only be able to see her clearly when I look back. And appreciating her now will not keep her small. The more I tell myself "appreciate, appreciate, appreciate," the more I feel like I'm just watching sand slither through an hourglass.

When I hold my friend's sweet baby, Audrey Claire, almost three months younger than Keira Jane, I find I've already forgotten what it feels like to hold an infant so delicate. My little one has five months of baby chub, dimpled fists that can grab necklaces and hair, fingers that have found their way into her mouth. She's alert and exploring her world, no longer sleeping off the disorienting ordeal of birth. And I'm stunned at how quickly I've forgotten how it feels to hold one so young.

When Keira was teeny tiny, almost every visitor who came to hold her would say, "Oh, I can't remember how to hold them when they're this small." They'd reach out so gingerly, afraid they'd shatter her. "Oh, come on. Here," I'd say and just hand her over. I got used to her tininess so quickly. Yes, she was delicate, but she was strong, hardy, not as breakable as we think.

But that moment of being an experienced mother of a 2-week-old baby is already gone. Now I know how to hold a 4 1/2 month old. And soon, that will be a memory, too.

So I take photos. And I write things down the moment I feel them--doing my best to hang on to things that are so very fleeting. And I'm already grateful that I'm trying to stem the tide of time, that impossible task.

On Sunday, January 23, 2011, at 5:09 a.m., I wrote this in my iPhone Momento app:
"I want to memorize the smell, the feel of her cheek, perfect, plump and smooth, when she's heavy with sleep. I nuzzle the folds of her neck and drink her in."

And then it comes back to me.

A Memory That Came Out of Nowhere

It was 1991, and I was in Mrs. Springer's 9th-grade English class.

I adored Mrs. Springer. She was bold, funny, independent, and wise—and she once told my mother I was "brilliant," which you'll think was a very charitable thing for her to say after you hear the rest of this story. To this day, I can clearly recall her infectious laugh, her intense red hair, her flair for the dramatic, and the creepy stories she told us on Halloween after darkening the classroom windows with black butcher paper.

We had been given an assignment to write an essay or a book report, with instructions to use Roman numerals to designate each section of the report. Over the course of the year, I remember writing about Shane, Oliver Twist, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Pride & Prejudice, and a biography of "Nazi hunter" Simon Weisenthal—but this report could have been about any or none of them. (Actually I know it wasn't about Oliver Twist, because that assignment was an oral report, which my friends and I turned into an embarrassing white-girl rap: "Oliver, Oliver Twist. Do the O-O-Oliver Twist!")

In any case, after struggling to format the assignment according to her instructions (using my family's rudimentary word-processor) and finally giving up, I handed in my finished report and said, "I'm sorry. I just used regular numbers to mark my sections. I couldn't find the Roman numerals on the keyboard I have at home."

Miraculously, Mrs. Springer did NOT laugh. She didn't even chuckle. She just smiled, nodded, and accepted my report. Her face didn't betray even a hint of mockery—a true testament to her acting skills. Bless Mrs. Springer; I don't think I could have done it!

It was only later, on my own, that I realized my humiliating error. And just look at me now:

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX - XXI - XXII - XXIII - XXIV -XXV - XXVI - XXVII - XXVII - XXIX - XXX

So, tell me: are you inspired to write about a similar event from your past? In your journal or on a scrapbook page, share your thoughts about a teacher whose influence you still feel today. Or write about something embarrassing you said or did in junior high school. Or collect a list of things you should have known by a certain age but somehow didn't—like the fact that pickles were once cucumbers, or that islands don't float, or that chicken-fried steak isn't chicken.

Or you can just enjoy a little laugh at my expense and go on about your day.

Hopes and Fears

Wow, what an unexpectedly inspiring round of comments I got back from each of you! I realized something important as I was reading through your responses: each of them is a perfect little gem; a tiny essay that encapsulates so much of who you are and what matters most to you right at this moment. That kind of knowledge is a beautiful thing.

Who knew that you fears would say so much about us? And it occurs to me now that our greatest fears are often the exact opposite of our greatest hopes. You accomplish the same goal by identifying one or the other.

Every single one of you who commented could take the statement you wrote and expand on it in your journal or on a scrapbook page. This is different from a resolution or a goal, because admitting our hopes and our fears acknowledges our lack of control over the outer world. We all do our best to make sense of the incoming and the outgoing and to respond to new challenges and opportunities with our best efforts—but our responses are often the only power we have.

We can't control other people; we can't control the weather; we can't control the economy or world governments; we can't control the earth's fault lines. But we can respond with courage and integrity and purpose and authenticity—we can be present in our lives and reach out when we can.

Here are some of your hopes and fears:

Lee said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that we manage to survive one more year with everyone in the house talking. Slowly we are being overrun by teens and pre-teens and I hope they continue to be open, honest and engaging. My greatest fear is that they don't." 

Leah said, "My greatest hope this year is that I get accepted to do my Masters and my greatest fear is that I get accepted to do my Masters."

Marty said, "My greatest hope is that my adopted kids continue to heal from their traumas."
(That sentence both breaks my heart and revives my faith in humanity. Thank you Marty for giving those kids a chance.)

Anne said, "I hope that my new baby granddaughter arrives safely and that she's healthy and gorgeous!"

Chris said, "My greatest hope is selfish. I want a happy, healthy family. In 14 1/2 months I lost my sister in a car accident, my mother fell and died 3 months later from complications, and my 47-year-old husband had a stroke. Rough times and I am hoping and praying for better days ahead."
(This doesn't sound one bit selfish to me. My heart goes out to you, Chris.)

Mellisa said, "My greatest HOPE is that I will become pregnant again. My greatest FEAR is that it will end in yet another loss."

Katie said, "My greatest hope for this year is a calmer, happier me. And my greatest fear is losing a close friend of mine who is fighting breast cancer."

Kelli said, "My greatest fear is that my husband who has been traveling A LOT over the last several years will have the opportunity to be home more with us on a daily basis. That being said, my biggest fear is that my husband will be home with us on daily basis... ;)"
(Everything is a mixed blessing, isn't it???)

Jennifer said, "My greatest hope is for the safe return of all our soldiers and for everyone to be at a good place in their own lives."

Rebecca said, "My greatest hope is to find a job, a new home to live in with my family. My greatest fear we don't get a job and will be forced to move in with parents. (11 months of unemployment is really old!)"

Betty said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that this will be the year my 7 yr old son finally speaks so my loving DH can hear the word Daddy for the first time..."

Katherine said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that the drought is over and we have a successful crop in each field and that the Cotton Gin has more than enough business to make up for the past 3 years of extremely severe drought."

Migdalis said, "My greatest hope for this year is to keep walking even if the world around me is falling apart!!!"

Jodee said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that my hubby realizes his potential and starts his own business. He is kind of hesitant right now."

Margie said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that I feel more peace than fear. And that I remember my blessings in this moment. It sounds cliche, but it's cliche for a reason! And I have to add that I hope the same for others, especially those with extreme difficulty these days. We've all been there and I hope they find relief & peace sooner than later."

Doesn't this list give you an amazing perspective on your own life and on other people's challenges and blessings?

I am very touched. Thank you, everyone.

p.s. This feels a bit anticlimactic now, but Random.org gave the random number 77, which came from Laura. I'll email the winner her prize!

Stampin' Up! Should Hire More Swedes

I just finished reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, and the title of this post is just one of the many startling conclusions I reached on my journey through the book.

Let me explain.

Last February, when I was toying with the idea of finding another full-time job, I saw an open position at Stampin' Up! that I briefly considered applying for. But one phrase in the job description made it clear this job was NOT for me. 

The phrase was: "must have a high tolerance for ambiguity."

If I know anything about myself, it's that I have a very low tolerance for ambiguity, which is one of the reasons I have not yet cultivated a deep appreciation for modern poetry.

I spend 83% of my time in the act of clarification. I'm either:

• clarifying what I just said
• repeating myself but in a slightly different form (or sometimes just louder) so there's no chance of misinterpretation
• fretting that I may recently have been misunderstood
• asking questions to make sure I understand precisely what you just said
• rewriting and re-punctuating sentences so there's no possible way they could be misread
• explaining to other people that my husband was only kidding just in case the nuances of his humor escape them

My husband, Travis, who's comfortable floating in a constant sea of ambiguity, occasionally finds it exhausting to speak to me. "How is it possible that you're unclear about what I just said?" he'll say. I just shrug. "Well, I just want to make sure we're on the same page." (But that's not precisely true, I don't just want to be on the same page with people, I want to be on the same word, or letter if possible.)

Trav is perfectly fine expressing himself in the general neighborhood of what he means. He thinks the "gist" of things is generally sufficient. Not I. I am rarely satisfied with a mere gist.

This brings me to the Swedes.

In Gladwell's book, in a chapter titled, "The Ethnic Theory of Plane Crashes," he talks about how different cultures are more prone to "tolerating ambiguity" while others practice "uncertainty avoidance." There's even a country-by-country database that ranks countries on the scale.

The biggest "uncertainty avoiders" are:
Greece
Portugal
Guatemala
Uruguay
Belgium
Angie Lucas

Those most tolerant of ambiguity include:
Hong Kong
Sweden
Denmark
Jamaica
Singapore
Travis Lucas

So, Stampin' Up! if you haven't filled that position yet, you might consider doing a bit of cultural profiling.

Another interesting tidbit I picked up from my friend* Malcolm:
In general, Western communication is "transmitter oriented." In other words, it is considered the responsibility of the speaker to communicate ideas clearly. Hey, I'm just taking my responsibilities very seriously.

In many Eastern countries, however, communication is "receiver oriented." It's up to the listener to make sense of being said. In an environment like this, I would be sure to drive everyone crazy, including myself.

* I'm taking liberties with the term "friend" because I actually e-mailed him once, and he actually responded. And then I made a layout about it.

I have a lot more thoughts about this book, and others I've read recently, and I think I may post some actual book reviews, rather than just random reflections and connections like this one. So stay tuned.

Incidentally, this is one of the things I love most about reading. It opens up my mind and helps me discover new ways of thinking about myself and the world. These "ambiguity avoidance" epiphanies are the kind of thing I save in my Encylopedia of Angie Lucas's Ordinary Life journal, which I started years ago after reading the memoir by Amy Krause Rosenthal. My version is just an ongoing Word document saved on my computer, with various ruminations and memories organized alphabetically by topic. I filed select portions of this post under "ambiguity."

Have you made any discoveries about yourself lately? Make sure you're saving them somewhere.

Three Journal Tips

Note the lack of the "-ing" in the title. We're not talking about journaling. We're talking about journals—books that contain only words, also known as diaries. Very few pictures are involved, if any, and there are absolutely no dimensional accents. There, are we on the same page? Great. Here are three quick tips.

Tip 1
Forget about chronology.
At Simple Scrapbooks magazine, we harped on this point all the time. But there's really nothing wrong with chronological scrapbooking, or chronological journal keeping, as long as it works for you. The underlying point is this: don't impose any artificial rules upon yourself if they keep you from recording your memories. Don't put any barriers in your way.

I used to be stuck in this odd chronological mindset with my journals. I'd have a flash of inspiration and grab my journal to write about it, then I'd notice that I was about 9 months behind. I certainly couldn't write about what's happening now until I recorded my brother's wedding, my trip to Chicago, my new job, and the arrival of Ruby the wonder dog, could I? Chronology was an unspoken rule that I never questioned. So, unless I felt like writing a marathon catch-up entry, I'd sigh and put the journal away. Occasionally, I'd just skip a handful of pages and follow my in-the-moment inspiration, but I'd never leave quite enough space for the catch-up entries. (There is an obvious solution if this sounds familiar to you. Don't buy bound journals. Instead, use a binder that allows you to easily remove and reorganize your pages.)

Clearly, my journal-writing approach was not effective for me. My solution? I decided to allow myself more than one journal at a time (see tip 2). Who says you have to finish one before you can start writing in another? No one, but I was following that artificial rule all the same. It seems I am a very obedient soul.

To recap, if sticking to chronology is keeping you from following those flashes of inspiration, kick chronology to the curb! Don't waste a sudden urge to actually write something, because the motivation never lasts long.

Tip 2
Keep several types of journals.
First of all, I'm not sure why journals are something you "keep." I didn't make up the expression, but I am blindly using it. (Baaaa!) Despite what you might suspect after reading tip 1, I do still keep a series of chronological journals. These journals are PRESSURE-FREE. They contain the broad trajectory of my life, and I only pull the most recent one out when I feel inspired to add a new piece my story. I do not force myself to write on a schedule, because I don't like schedules. When I feel inspired, I write about major life events. Big insights. Exciting news. Spiritual experiences and impressions that I want to remember. My personal reactions to significant national and world news. Ongoing struggles and how I'm dealing with them. Snippets of experiences and slice of life entries. A few "top ten favorites" lists, just for fun. The three books you see here cover August 1998 to the present. See? This does not have to be overwhelming. Ten years in three books. Obviously, months go by between some entries. (Bonus tip: Do not start every entry with, "I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote last!" because it gets really repetitive really fast. Really. I know this from experience, and yet I still can't help myself.)

Here are a couple of sample entries:
January 18, 2000
After my grandpa Hill's funeral. "I have never experienced real grief before. But now, I know what people mean when they talk of grief ripping a hole in their heart. The day I heard the news, I sat on the bed in grandpa's spare room and looked at his coveralls hanging on the back of the door, and I tried to feel his presence in the house. I heard my aunts in the other room comparing memories, deciding what to include in his life sketch. I kept thinking about how he would always grab your face with both hands when kissing you hello or goodbye. Such a loving touch—like a hug and a kiss all in one."

February 20, 2004
The night before my wedding. "It's 10:30 and I'm going to bed. Mom prepared breakfast casserole and put it in the fridge. Matt and Suzanne are sleeping at Jon and Becky's, who live a block away. Michele and Mike are sleeping in the living room; Grandma and Grandpa are in my room. I'm cuddled with Sueki [the dog] under three of the quilts mom and dad received for their wedding, in our black day bed, in the basement room without a door that was my bedroom when I first moved home after college. Alli is sleeping next door, and the noise in the house is fading out as we retire for the night, one by one. I have a feeling I'll sleep well. I love going to sleep the night before a long-awaited event. To use the common cliche, I truly feel like a child on Christmas Eve—multiplied by ten."

Besides these chrono books, I have ongoing computer files that are organized by thematic topics (which I'll cover later), writer's notebooks where I write down funny things my family says, a blog, a very useful "venting" notebook, and other theme journals. And of course, I have my scrapbooks. I definitely count those as a part of my life record as well.

Tip 3
Incorporate journal entries onto scrapbook pages.
If you're like me, you probably revisit your old scrapbook pages far more often than you reread old journal entries. Why? Maybe because photos are so evocative. Or because the emotional outbursts that show up in our journals are far more embarrassing than anything we include on scrapbook pages, which we design deliberately for other people's eyes.

So why not pull your best gems from your journals and let them shine on scrapbook layouts? Not only is this a way to give your masterpiece entries a moment in the spotlight, but it's also a great shortcut. Chances are that you'll be covering some of the same topics in your scrapbooks and in your journals. And just imagine: instant journaling for your next layout!

Here's my travel journal from my post-college tour of Europe, followed by a couple of layouts from my massive Europe scrapbook. (Warning: brace yourself for a blast from the scrapbooking past. This is what pages looked like in 1998. At least mine did.)

And believe it or not, I still have lots more to say on the whole journal-keeping topic. But this is certainly enough for now.

Finis.