On the other side

When people talk resolutions, they often talk about things they want to cut out of their lives: smoking, fatty foods, bad habits.


I haven’t been one to make resolutions at the end of the year so much as goals.

I’ve been thinking back to last December a lot lately. This time last year, I felt that things were really slowing down. In the final month of 2010, I was on the tail-end of promoting my first book, and things had really started to feel like they were quieting down. It had been a busy year. I had to do a lot of things I’d never done before, which can be fun and exciting but also stressful. The year was filled with a lot of good moments but also a lot emotional ones.

When things felt like they were slowing down, I wasn’t sad. It didn't feel like things were over, just naturally moving on. And I was ready: ready for a change of pace, for a new project, for a new routine. I started working on a novel, thinking that it would be my main focus in 2011, especially since I had lots of time before the launch of my next book, Amphetamine Heart, which wasn’t slated to come out until October of this year.

In the hustle of 2010, I hadn’t always given myself the time to go out to readings and shows as much as I’d wanted to, so at the start of 2011, instead of a list of resolutions, I committed to going to at least one reading and one show a month. (For all of you who go to shows all the time, I can hear you moaning that a show a month isn’t very much. There was a time I went to one a week. It wasn’t worth it. This minimum is my happy medium.)

I also wanted to table at zine and small press fairs out of town, and go to Hamilton Art Crawls more often. I was going to redecorate a bit, learn tarot cards, work on a new zine, and get a dog. (Yes, a dog!)

And then January hit. I got invited to do a talk about Toronto punk rock. Because my standing policy is to say yes as often as possible, I said yes. Then I got an invite to do something in February, and then March, and then April, and, well, it went on. And on.

I didn't get a dog and I didn't redecorate and I didn't learn tarot cards. But I did get out to shows and readings and I did set time aside to write, regularly.

But the only month this year that I didn’t have any major commitments was July, when I had no readings, no freelance deadlines, no talks - nothing that required paying attention to the calendar.

Now, don’t take it that I’m complaining. I’m not. I was, and continue to be, grateful for every opportunity that came my way this year. It was a lot of work, but a lot of it led to good things: new experiences, new people, new learnings. Even the projects that didn’t go anywhere were still positive in their own ways. There is always something to learn.

There is also something in stretching yourself – your time, your schedule, your mind – beyond what you think you’re capable of. You find that, once you think you’ve stretched to your breaking point, you’ve actually grown. You can never again feel as overwhelmed at that same level again because you’ve surpassed it and reached a new threshold.

I worked on my novel through it all, because that’s what writing does to you: it doesn’t let you leave it alone for very long, unless you can learn to live with the pile of anxiety that balls up in your chest, and I did some of the things I wanted to, like table at zine fairs outside of Toronto. I also did my first out-of-town poetry performances this year.

I also tried, as hard as I could, to balance the rest of my life with my writing life. I threw a surprise party for my parents when they turned 75. I eased into a new job. I went to Las Vegas with friends. I made my own Halloween costume.

And between everything I wanted to do, I did a lot of things I never expected, like write some lyrics for D-Sisive’s new album Run with the Creeps.

I read at the re-launch of Daniel Jones’ 1978 and The Brave Never Write Poetry, which was one of those full-circle moments that only come around every few years, if you’re lucky. For me being such a major Jones fan, and for having been so influenced by his work, I felt really lucky that day.

But for all the days this year I felt lucky – and there were days I felt I could be truly, deeply, forever-happy – there were also days I felt sad. And worried. And so, so anxious.

There were stretches of exhaustion that went on for weeks. There were times when I questioned whether I was putting what little time and energy I had left over into the places: was I writing the right book at the right time? Was I wasting my time? Was I pursuing the right ideas? Was I working hard enough?

Was I doing everything I should be doing?

It's funny: you think you're going to reach a certain goal, or get to a certain point in your life, and then you'll have it all figured out. You'll trust yourself more, or you'll trust the universe more, and worry less about how things work out.

If such a place exists, I am not there yet.
The launch of Amphetamine Heart this fall was very exciting, but was also the start of a new wave of work, and one that’s still continuing. When December rolled around, I had a reading booked in Kingston the first weekend, and a book fair the second. After that, I knew I would have a few weeks of downtime, but the end of the year didn’t feel the same to me this time around.

I started to think back on the year and realized it was far busier than 2010. So busy that I can honestly say 2011 has been the longest year of my life. Everything that happened this year could have been stretched out over two years, but it wasn’t. It was all piled high and there were times I felt like I was drowning. I even said so, to some people, hoping for help, but at the end of the day, a lot of it was on me to stay above the surface. It’s hard to remember all the details because there were so many.

I also think the end of 2011 feels different because it doesn’t really feel like things are winding down. In January, I’m heading back out for more performances, and I know the start to 2012 is going to be a busy one. I’m trying to be excited about it, but it’s also a little scary. It’s always scary when you’re going into new territory and trying new things, but there’s no growth without risk, right?

A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t even think I could come up with an idea of what I want out of 2012 because I was feeling so tired, so uninspired. After having a bit of a break now, I feel a little better about it, but I still don't have the kind of clarity I'm used to.
So often this year I’ve talked to people who were feeling the way I have been lately: tired, unsure, worried. I’ve been the one to tell people to just push through: what’s one more challenge, one more week or month, one more deadline? You’ve done it before, you can do it again.

Won’t it be worth it to see what’s on the other side of it all?

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Seven suppliers of my soundtrack for 2011:

1. D-Sisive, Run with the Creeps
2. The Bloody Five, for their rendition of the Demics' "New York City"
3. The Weirdies, for playing the Amphetamine Heart launch
4. Author Dani Couture's "playlists," because they come from some very cool authors, and because I had the chance to meet some of them this year.
5. Peter Murphy, because his was my favourite show of 2011
6. Kenda Legaspi and the Orphans for this cover of Roxy Roller, performed at This Ain't Hollywood in Hamilton at the Blackbird Studios' Fall launch
7. Kosmograd, one of my favourite new musical finds this year