525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes – how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes – how do you measure a year in the life?
It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since the last Muskoka Novel Marathon, but it has. The time just keeps flying by. How do I measure the year that just flew by? Well, I’m definitely getting older. I think now is the time in my life when I’m going to NOTICE that part. I turn 49 in two months. My hips often hurt, as does my lower back. But I don’t know if this is because I’m aging, or because I’m walking too much. See, I think I’m addicted to walking. It started when I was ‘training’ to walk the Camino during the winter of ’13/’14. By early spring of last year, I was up to about 10K a day…and I was on my way to Spain. Turns out the Camino was a stroll. By the time I got back home, I knew the walking had only just begun. SO I turned around and went back to Europe and walked the streets of Paris with the same intensity that I had walked the Camino. And then I came home and continued to walk. One day last month I actually hit 30K. In one day…just out for a stroll. I continue to walk the Camino every day…with my feet in Ontario and my heart in Spain.
I guess I measure the last year in footsteps. It only makes sense. In inches and miles walked. And also, I suppose, in laughter…as there has been an abundance of that. You see, I became a member of a start-up group that just sort of burst into existence. We are THE BAD TABLE. We’re a group of writers who hang together at the WCDR Roundtable Meetings. We perceive ourselves as the baddies of our writing group, but we don’t blow up gas stations or rob banks. We don’t even trip old ladies trying to cross the street. Our modus operandi appears to be the creation of long strings of puns, accompanied by 12-year-old-boy-washroom-humour, near as I can tell.
We do kind of rock, though, in a superhero kind of way. In my own mind.
There will be a few of us in attendance at the Muskoka Novel Marathon next Friday through to the following Monday. We will do foolish things. We will laugh and giggle and be inappropriate. You can count on it. But we will all also put our heads down and get some writing done. For ourselves AND for those who might possibly not even be able to read the words we write. When it comes to illiteracy, there is no laughter. We are a united front against it…the Bad Table Alliance Against Illiteracy. Hey, that kind of sort of acronyms to BATTLE, at first glance. BTAAI. But not really. But it IS a battle we are waging.
We can only win that battle with your help. Each of us are charged with bringing in sponsorship donations for the Simcoe Muskoka YMCA literacy programs. You can donate online by clicking on the pic below and going to the link set up for my donation page for the event. ANY amount would be appreciated! We start writing Friday July 10th at 8pm. And we don’t stop until Monday July 13th at 8pm. Our part in this is to write…for 72 hours. You are the important much needed element in the equation. Your donations will help us writers help readers. Thank you in advance for your generosity. It is greatly appreciated!
Literature, no matter the genre or market, more often than not lifts us…and causes us to think. I never felt this more viscerally than when I read ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES by Jennifer Niven. In my review I think I even mentioned that it’s a wonderful book that could serve to open a much needed dialogue on mental illness and how it pertains to teens.
But I didn’t myself begin that dialogue. That was a bit of a fail on my part.
I’m not one to come at things intellectually, so I won’t do an info dump with lots of percentages and facts. I wander through life heart-first. I can address how All The Bright Places made me feel, and how I related to it. Although the circumstances which brought me there are different, I suppose, than those of Finch’s, I too rode the edge of dying/not dying as a teenager. I too woke up every morning and asked myself, “Is today a good day to die?” This is the first line in the book ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES. And it is literally what I used to think to myself every day. I knew I had to read on. Jennifer Niven captured the ache and turmoil of my youth in that opening line. Verbatim.
Like Finch, the first of the two main character POVs in the book, I struggled. I was actually diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder at one point. But I now believe that diagnosis to be inaccurate. Sometimes we run off the rails because of outside circumstances, not chemical imbalances in the brain. And chemical imbalances come about as a result of the depression we sink into because of these outward negative experiences in our lives. So, though the Bi-Polar diagnosis has never been overturned…it is not something I relate to or accept as my personal truth. When I finally disclosed my childhood trauma and began to work on the PTSD that it caused in me, I realized that it was at the root of everything else. The steps a survivor of childhood sexual abuse takes in order to survive are cataclysmic and scatological at best. They are bad choices made in a fitful panic in order to step forward through the game of life to the next tile. We don’t think long-term. There is no long term. We don’t plan the future, because we cannot imagine one. We just work our way through the maze. One step at a time. We wake up every day and we ask ourselves that important question, “Is today a good day to die?”
We try not to look in the mirror when we brush our teeth and we say, “Is today the day? And if not today–when?”
Finch’s story had me riveted from word one. Niven had somehow captured the life of a teenage boy in turmoil so succinctly that I began to think she might, in some otherworldly way unbeknownst to me, be my biographer. I mean, that’s how creeped out I became while reading this story. I kept thinking, “Oh my god. I’m Finch.” (and it got even worse when friends asked me if I had read the book and THEY said, YOU’RE FINCH!) I knew instinctively that Niven had personally experienced a loss of a teenage boy in turmoil in her past. I was not at all surprised to learn later, after having read the book, that this was indeed the case…that Finch’s character was an homage to a lost boy. She captured it too impeccably not to have first experienced it in real life.
In the end, my story turned out differently than Finch’s. I muddled through somehow. Every time I answered that morning question with, “No, not today,” I lived to see another morning. And on the mornings when I woke up and asked myself that question and responded to myself in the affirmative something always happened to either prevent me from taking my life that day or saving me from the attempt to take it. When you’re living in the trenches, you don’t realize that making it through another day is a good thing. You regret not leaving. Every day, you grow more angry with having to ask yourself that stupid question again… “Is today a good day to die?” Because you’re bitter for not having had the courage to have responded in the affirmative the morning before and actually ended your suffering already. The pain is too much. The segregation from the rest of the world is too much. The hell that you are locked in is a never-ending purgatory of fear and self-loathing.
I picked up ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES to read again because of the Muskoka Novel Marathon I’ll be doing in two weeks. I want to write a book with that much visceral emotion in it. I want to learn more as a writer by reading it one last time before I go in to the belly of the beast for the writing marathon.
But in reading it, I’m realizing it’s not enough to just say, “Oh, this book would be great to open the dialogue for a mental illness struggles in teens discussion.” We should actually discuss it. Every single day, teens are dragging themselves out of bed with that question in their heads and on their tongues. Every day. Everywhere. They might not have had a ghastly childhood trauma such as sexual abuse or physical abuse. They might be dealing with a bully, or bullies, or sexuality issues or gender confusion, or weight issues, or acne, or self-righteous indignation…does it matter? Whatever issue they are dealing with, it is real to them. It is weighing them down and making them feel LESS THAN.
If you have a teen in your life, ask them. Be on point and just ask them how they are feeling. In the middle of the storm of depression, it is extremely hard to hear outside noise. The screams in your mind are enough to block out most other things. What occasionally turns those screams off, or at least adjusts the volume to a liveable level, is concern. Let them know you care. And don’t just do it once. Be insistent and persistent. Love doesn’t always win. But sometimes it does.
Teens are dying. It really is time to open up a dialogue of prevention. One suicide is one too many. When I think of the amount of times I almost didn’t make it, it’s sobering and staggering. So much of the things that now cause extreme joy in my life would have been missed. IT GETS BETTER is a tangible phrase that brings with it a punch. Because if you allow yourself to struggle through the darkness, it well and truly does get better. It’s when we wake up and ask ourselves, “Is today a good day to die?” and there is nobody there to say, “NO!” that we all fail.
Know the signs:
Signs and symptoms of depression in teens can include the following:
A sense of hopelessness or sadness
Fidgety agitation and restless discomfort
Short fuse with anger, irritability
Loss of interest in things they were once passionate about
A change to the way they eat and/or sleep
Change in the way they interact with friends and family members
Loss of concentration–which can present as slipping grades
Signs that they’ve been crying or appear tearful
Showing a general self-worthlessness attitude or extreme unexplainable guilt
Lack of joie de vivre—no enthusiasm, motivation, drive
Showing signs of unexplained exhaustion…lack of energy. ennui.
THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE OR DEATH…ideation around these concepts, possibly even to the point of obsession.
I’m writing this for all the Finch teens out there now. And I’m writing this for the Finch I once was. And I’m writing this for all the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and boyfriends and girlfriends and grandparents and friends of Finch. Don’t let the world take away your Finch. We are all bright lights and we are all bright places. We need to know this. Talk to your loved ones. Don’t allow them to lose sight of their own bright places. Life is beautiful.
“In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make”
The title of this blog post is a GOOGLE SEARCH TERM used by someone who found my site today. So often, the Google search terms that lead people here have me wanting to write a post on the term. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t bother. TODAY, I was required to. Because NOBODY FAILS THE CAMINO.
A reader from one of the countries listed above visited my blog today. Please know that you didn’t fail. The Camino has no failures…
Whoever you are, you will probably not find your way back here. But I’m going to write this anyway. NOBODY FAILS THE CAMINO.
Did you see the big sky? Did your feet touch the earth? Did your heart feel lifted, if only for a moment? Did you smile? Did you say hello to at least one stranger?
There is no pass or fail on the Camino. The journey begins when you consider taking the first step…not when you step down in Spain. The journey is in your heart. Don’t you see that the Camino is like the YELLOW BRICK ROAD?! You can take that road all the way to the end, to the Emerald City, and your journey isn’t over. Because the journey is internal. Once you get to the Emerald City, you must click your heels together three times and say, “THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.” That’s the journey…discovering that you are always there. Always on the Camino. Always in Camino de Santiago.
Please, don’t think you failed the Camino if you walked the Camino. You did what you needed to do. You found the sky above you and the earth beneath your feet. There is no fail.
Four of those seven darlings created at the marathon are now published and available for your reading pleasure. (-:
1. Sebastian’s Poet – Contemporary Adult story with a child narrator. Winner of the BEST ADULT NOVEL AWARD for 2007.
2. The Reasons – Contemporary Adult story with duo narration…one child narrator and one adult narrator (son & mother). Winner of the BEST ADULT NOVEL AWARD for 2008.
(I didn’t do the marathon in 2009. I was going to Kenya that year…and did not have the time to attend the marathon)
3. Half Dead & Fully Broken – Young Adult story with a teen narrator. Winner of the BEST YOUNG ADULT NOVEL AWARD for 2010.
4. Burn Baby Burn Baby – Young Adult story with a teen narrator. Received an Honourable Mention for 2012.
That’s 4 of my 5 published novels created at the Muskoka Novel Marathon. 4! I did win the marathon one other time, though that novel was never completed…so remains unpublished.
1. That’s Me in the Corner – Young Adult story with teen narrator. Winner of the YOUNG ADULT NOVEL AWARD for 2011.
Two more Muskoka Novel Marathon novels…
1. Alive & Kicking – Young Adult story with the same teen narrator as Half Dead & Fully Broken. It’s Book 2. It remains incomplete. Written during the 2013 marathon.
2. The Book of Your Dreams – Young Adult horror story with a teen narrator. Honourable Mention for the 2014 marathon.
Who knows. But I am writing something.
Which is WHERE YOU COME IN.
I need your money.
The Muskoka Novel Marathon is not only an event for 40 insane writers to camp out together while each of us writes a novel. It’s also a fundraising event. We raise funds for literacy programs at YMCA of SIMCOE MUSKOKA. To date, this marathon has raised well over $100,000.00 for this cause…but it’s not enough. With government funding cut to the bone, the literacy programs depend on the generosity of donors. The 40 writers involved in this weekend all collect donations on behalf of the cause. We are writers helping readers. But without you, we are nothing. In order for the writers to help the readers, we need your generous donations. Without them, we are simply writers writing at this weekend marathon.
I need you to click on the picture below, go to the CANADA GIVES page I have set up to receive donations, and give. Anything. I don’t need $500 donations. $5 will do. Whatever you can spare.
From the official MNM website, a bit about what the MNM actually is…
The Muskoka Novel Marathon is an annual event to raise funds and awareness for adult literacy in Huntsville and surrounding areas. To date, the event has raised over $105,000. Please see About the Marathon for more information.
I thank you in advance for your generosity. Together, we can make a difference.
I leave you with a couple snap-shots from last year’s marathon…
This year’s marathon is in 32 days. In 32 days, 40 writers will get together in Huntsville, Ontario, and attempt to write 40 novels over a 72 hour period. That’s about 2,000,000 words, if we’re all lucky. That’s a lot of words. And all for literacy. But our goal is not really to write a bunch of words. Our goal is to help others read words.
My part is the easiest. All I have to do is sit in front of my laptop and burn, baby!
(All donated funds go directly to the literacy programs. Thank you in advance for your generosity!)