Synchronicity, the Search for Epic Meaning and Making a Living
- At March 29, 2012
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Roxanne Writes On
- 0
I think I first learned the word “synchronicity” from the book The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. The Artist’s Way is a kind of self-help program for blocked creatives, you know, the socially-challenged introverts who slouch around moaning “I don’t know what to do with my life!”
The gist of synchronicity is this: the magic is already in you, and when you are willing to do the work to find it, the universe will support you. Kind of a Dumbo’s-magic-feather thing. (Or as Morpheus taught Neo, “Free your mind!”) It’s a particularly good book for would-be writers, and god knows there’s no group more prone to slouching and moaning.
Anyway, the first time I did the program, my freelance income in one year went from about 10K to 30K. Pretty good when you consider that the overall average income for writers hovers below the poverty line. Sad, I know. Why do we do it? (Cue the s and m.)
The second time I did it, I sold my first non-fiction book, which was quickly followed by six more, plus a novel. Needless to say, I’m a pretty big fan of Julia Cameron and The Artist’s Way, and many of the lessons I learned wove themselves into the fabric of my creative life. When the student is ready, the teacher arrives! Leap, and the net will appear!
Then the economy tanked, and took a lot of publishing houses with it. I, like millions of ordinary working stiffs, entered a dark period of fiscal and existential uncertainty. Lucky me, I went peri-menopausal right then, too. Hormonal chaos. Oh, my kids started leaving the nest then, too. Maternal clutching and tuition bills. Oh, my husband started graduate school then too. More tuition bills. But no clutching.
A dark period indeed.
I was ready to learn, but there was no teacher. I leaped, but there was no net. In fact, I fell on my face, to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars in lost royalties when my publisher went belly-up. (And just when my laser hair removal bills were ramping up, too!)
However, I kept writing. (Really, what else am I going to do? I’m virtually unemployable. I have the attention span of a gnat. Plus, I tend to go off on tangents…) I went to writers’ conferences I couldn’t afford, but had a great time at. I attended writing retreats that had no apparent consequence, but at which I met great people. I pitched ideas that had minimal traction in the industry – but kept my name out there. I finally hired a professional web designer to give me a proper web presence, even though it pretty much broke my writing piggy-bank.
My tank was on Empty, out of hope, purpose, direction, meaning… yup, s and m all over the place. After all, if nobody’s buying what I’m selling, well, What Am I Going to Do With My Life? I needed something with Epic Meaning, on par with raising exceptional young women, a task at which I excel, but which utilizes skills that translate poorly on a curriculum vitae. Also, I demand compensation commensurate with my experience. You heard me. Pay the writer, man.
And then one day an email popped into my in-box.Well, really it was a Facebook message, which routed to my inbox. Which I accessed by my iPhone because I was on vacation at the time. (Tangents. Gnats. See what I mean?)
Anyway…. a woman I’d met a year or two ago at that writers’ retreat I couldn’t afford – a woman I’d have bet wouldn’t have remembered my name! – had recommended me, via my new website, to someone she knew who knew someone else who was looking for … you guessed it, a writer. And not just any writer, but one with a very specific combination of interests, combined with – get this – an ability to go off on creative tangents. TANGENTS? I am so there. And then, around the same time, my agent and I found some potential homes for the numerous manuscripts I’ve got collecting dust on my hard drive.
Slouch and moan? Who has the time?
All of which is to say that after a very long dry spell, synchronicity has struck again, reminding me that the first rule for success in any creative endeavour is to just hang in there.
Eventually the competition will give up. Or die.
Then they’ll have to publish me.
Is It Just Me…?
…or does this drive anyone else nuts, too?
Scenario:
You’re in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the spawn. Mate is due home anytime and you’re running late. The phone rings. You turn down the heat on the pasta sauce.
“Hello?” You stir the sauce, phone propped between shoulder and ear. “Hello!”
Nobody there. You turn the heat back up and start the water boiling for the spaghetti. Phone rings again.
“Hello!” you snap.
“Hello?” says a voice on the other end. You don’t recognize it.
“Who is this?” There’s a suspicious smell coming from the stove.
“Hello? Is this Liz? I’m looking for Liz.”
“No Liz here!” You stir the sauce, which is now sticking to the the pan. The water is boiling, so you toss in the estimated amount of pasta, which you know won’t be the right amount, but whatever.
The phone rings again.
No voice on the other end.
“Still no Liz here,” you say, before hitting the button, wishing there was a way to slam down a cordless phone.
Then. It. Rings. Again.
You take a deep breath. “Liz died!!” 411, moron. Look it up.
A pause. Then, “Honey? What’s going on?”
Not a single phone call all day long, but the moment you get involved in something time sensitive, it’s a fricking alarm clock.
You hear laughter. From behind him. He’s not listening to you.
“I’m in a bar,” he says, interrupting you.
“What do you want? Spit it out! I’m busy!” He doesn’t hear you. Although to be fair, how could he? It’s seriously loud in there. Loud enough that he can’t hear you, you can barely hear him. In fact, why the hell did he call in the first place.
“Is there supper tonight?” he yells. Happy hour’s come and gone, you think.
“There would be,” you yell back, “but I keep getting interrupted.”
“I can’t hear ya, babe,” he says, laughing at something someone else is yelling. “I’m gonna hang out here for awhile. Is that okay? Love you!”
He hangs up. The pasta sauce is burning. The noodles are boiling over.
I could kill him with my brain.
Got Personality? Take the Test!
- At January 24, 2012
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 4
What do William Shakespeare, Neil Diamond, Annie Dillard, Tom Brokaw, Lisa Kudrow and Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis have in common? They fall into the same Myers-Briggs personality category as ME! It’s true. We’re all Introverted-iNtuitive-Feeling-Perceiving kinds of people. (Although I have to wonder exactly how they got Will to take the test.)
If you’ve never done this test, or haven’t done it for some time, try this version here. It’s called the Jung Typology test. 72 yes/no questions, it doesn’t take much time, and it’s free.
At the end, you’ll get an assessment of your personality that includes:
- Your type formula according to Carl Jung and Isabel Briggs Myers typology along with the strengths of the preferences.
- The description of your personality type.
- The list of occupations most suitable for your personality type.
These kind of things amaze and fascinate me – which isn’t surprising, given my score. But it’s so consistent! There are always questions in these type of surveys that are easy to answer, such as:
a) Do you prefer to act immediately rather than speculate about various options?…. NO. I want to speculate. For as long as possible. Back and forth. There are many things to consider, you know.
b) Do you prefer meeting in small groups to interaction with lots of people?….. YES. The smaller the better. In fact, do dogs count?
c) Is your desk, workbench etc. usually neat and orderly?…. NO. Have you seen my desk? (Seriously. I know it’s here somewhere.)
Then again, there are always questions that I have to read over several times before I even understand them. And then, I’m not sure which way to answer, possibly because of a) above. Like these:
d) Do you easily perceive various ways in which events could develop?… um, I might perceive a few ways, depending on the situation.
e) When considering a situation, do you pay more attention to the current situation and less to a possible sequence of events?… as in what, can I tell the future? Well duh. Can’t everyone?
f) Do you like to keep a check on how things are progressing?… what things? A watched pot? That line that fills in on the download screen? Do I look for grey hairs? Weigh myself repeatedly? What does this mean??
But here’s the thing. I’m as honest as I can be with the easy ones. And with the others, I try. Then I go back and do it over, several times, changing some of the answers I feel uncertain of. And no matter how I changed things, and how many times I did it, how many combinations and permutations, it always comes out the same. The percentages in each category changed somewhat, but I still landed in the INFP camp. I guess, like Popeye, I yam what I yam. (I wonder what category he’s in?)
Less than 10% of the population falls into the Introverted-iNtuitive categories. (Be kind to us. We’re lonely.)
What category are you?