Dance

End-of-Year Madness and Writing-as-Puzzle

This post was originally sent through my author newsletter on June 16th, 2023. To subscribe to my newsletter and receive up-to-date news, musings, and more, click HERE.

I'm writing this from the tiny lobby of my daughter's dance studio, to the sounds of her second-ever tap class. (Who knew three five-year-olds could make so much noise?) (Just kidding. I definitely understand the noise capacity of a gaggle of five-year-olds...) 

This is, admittedly, not the optimal place to be trying to focus on writing. Unfortunately, this week, I don't really have a choice. We are barreling toward the end of the school year, and I am absolutely swamped. I've got work deadlines...and elementary school concerts/ceremonies/picnics...and birthday party preparations...and family gatherings...and next week I have another eye specialist follow-up...oh, and Monday is a school holiday...

You get the picture. 

In fact, I'm sure many of you are in a similar boat! (Maybe without the child with a June birthday, but still.) 

One of the biggest things on my plate right now is writing a feature article for Dance Magazine. You may know that my first job out of college was as an editor at a group of dance magazines. I started out at Dance Teacher, then moved over to Dance Spirit. When I left that job after a few years to get my MFA in creative writing, I continued to freelance for all of the group's publications. In total, I've been writing about dance professionally for almost 20 years! 

But this article I'm working on right now is a doozy. It's about the preprofessional pipeline of trainee programs and second companies and apprenticeships that dancers travel along between being a student and becoming a paid professional. It's a great topic! The tricky thing is, after doing all of my interviews, I have too much information.

Magazine articles are relatively short; in this case, for a feature, I've been given a maximum of 1,500 words. I've drafted maybe two-thirds of what I want to say, and I've already surpassed 1,500 words. 

I described this process to my husband as this: 

Imagine being given a box with 1,000 puzzle pieces. From those 1,000 pieces, you have to complete a 100-piece puzzle. It should be a picture of a horse, but you aren't given an exact image to work from. Instead, the box is full of bits of horses...and also some zebras, and also some cows. So you start assembling pieces as best you can, and slowly, so slowly, the picture starts to turn into something. It starts to become a horse. 

My article is due on Tuesday. Right now, it's a mess. 

My horse has way too many legs. At least one of them is actually from a zebra. 

But by Tuesday, it will come together. 

That's one thing I've learned from doing this for so many years. I have the skill and the experience that I need. I know that some articles will be a breeze and others will give me a bit of grief. They'll all get done. 

I try to keep that in mind whenever I'm working on something that isn't cooperating. I've been here before. I know what I'm doing. Whether it's a short article or a full-length novel, I have what it takes. I just have to keep at it. 

How do you motivate yourself when a project isn't going smoothly? 

~Kathryn

What I'm: 

Reading: The Good Left Undone by Adriana Trigiani. This is a family epic set in Italy, ranging from pre-World War II to present-day. It's about big loves and family secrets and the differences and similarities between generations. I'm enjoying it!  

Watching: "The Other Two," a sitcom about the two older siblings of a child star. It's really funny! 

Baking: My daughter's sixth birthday party is tomorrow, and this afternoon's project is baking So. Many. Mermaid. Cupcakes.

Loving: Kindergarten stepping-up was this week! I can't believe I almost have a first-grader. Every day, my daughter brings home a wad of papers in her backpack, and at least one of them says, in wild, mismatched printing, "I love Mom and Dad." My heart is full. 

What Do You Do to Cultivate Joy?

This post was originally sent through my author newsletter on January 20th, 2023. To subscribe to my newsletter and receive up-to-date news, musings, and more, click HERE.

After my Wednesday dance class this week, a newer student approached me to ask how long I'd been training with this particular teacher. I thought back: "Since 2010, maybe?" "Wow, so like 13 years?!" the 20-something said, eyes wide. And yes, my mind was a little blown to realize that that much time had passed since I first set foot in this specific class.

So much about my life has changed since then. I was freshly out of graduate school and had decided to continue freelancing for the time being, so I could polish my first novel. Publishing books for a living was still a dream. I wasn't yet married. I was five years away from even being ready to have a conversation about having kids, and seven years away from actually becoming a mom. (Let's not even talk about the complete lack of global pandemic...) 

To be honest, 2010 Kathryn feels like an entirely different person than 2023 Kathryn. And yet...I was dancing. 

And I'm still dancing. 

"You just look like it brings you so much joy," the 20-something said on Wednesday, hitting the nail on the absolute head.

Taking that class each week does bring me joy—and not only because, with 13 years of this same teacher's training under my belt, my body knows what to do. I can let go a little. But the joy is also in the showing up. The still showing up. After all of the life changes. When work is hectic and I should probably spend the two hours (almost three, with the round-trip commute...) at my computer instead. When the writing isn't flowing. When my 40-year-old, birthed-a-child body doesn't feel like it once did. When something hurts. When I'm tired. (I'm always tired.) 

I go to dance class, and I cultivate joy. 

So far this year, I've been thinking—and writing—a lot about cultivating my career, and about cultivating an environment of creativity in my life. But what about simply cultivating joy?

For me, that means making time to stretch and strengthen my body. It means challenging my brain to pick up long phrases of choreography. It means chasing that feeling of flying across the dance floor, completely immersed in the music and the moment. It means leaving whatever else is going on outside the studio door, even if only for two hours a week. 

What do you do that you don't get paid for—that you don't even always have time for—but you keep at it because it brings you joy? Is there a way to make even more space for that in your life? Can you cultivate more joy in 2023?

~Kathryn 

What I'm: 

Reading: Anatomy: A Love Story, by Dana Schwartz. This is a historical YA novel with a decidedly gothic feel, set in 1817 Edinburgh, about a young lady who dreams of becoming a surgeon and a boy who works as a Resurrection Man, digging up bodies for medical students to dissect. This book won't be for everyone, but if you like historical stories about young women trying to enter traditionally male realms—and you aren't squeamish about, well, anatomy—you might like it! I'm maybe a third of the way in, and enjoying it so far.  

Watching: My husband was away last weekend, and whenever he's out of town, I watch things that I know he won't be interested in. Enter Netflix's "Dance Monsters," a reality series in which dancers compete...as CGI monsters. I didn't expect much from this show, and it has completely won me over. It's refreshingly drama-free, the dancing ranges from decent to great, and the special effects are impressive. Do you want to watch a sweet, fuzzy yellow monster named Peaches (in real life, an engineer on an oil rig!) do an energetic Broadway-style number to "One Night Only" from the musical Dreamgirls? "Dance Monsters" might be up your alley.  

Baking: I may have mentioned before that my kiddo is an aspiring baker/chef. A few days ago, she had a vision: pink-and-blue swirled mermaid cupcakes with blue buttercream to represent the ocean, topped with a fondant mermaid. I was able to make all of that happen for her...aside from the fondant. We painted sliced strawberries with edible silver, instead. They were a triumph, if I do say so myself!  

Loving: There really is nothing like seeing your child feel proud of something they dreamed up and created. Here's to many more baking adventures together in the years to come!