Missing the Power of Connecting

Written on June 22, 2010 in AIW Events
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by AIW Member Ruth Schimel, PhD

Take advantage of AIW events for networking!What a great conference we had this year!  After attending over six or so, I think this one was the best yet.

One surprise I had, regardless of the level of experience and expertise any of us have: how few people seemed to reach out to one another.  Example: If I asked someone what they were working on, the person did not ask me anything about my writing.  That could have led to all kinds of possible cross-fertilization for connections, content or just commiseration.

Another surprise: How few people were ready to summarize their interests or projects in a quick and juicy way.  Example: The short story writer at the agent’s breakfast table who explained the plot from beginning to end instead of synthesizing it when another seven people also needed air time.   Example: When asked about her project, a woman said, “Oh, I’m new; I’m not writing.”  However, when encouraged, she offered she is writing children’s stories.

Finally, what’s the lack of business cards about?  What keeps someone from saying something about their focus on a card, besides not yet having the confidence and commitment?  Perhaps act “as if” for while. Maybe call yourself a writer, consultant, or editor.  Or note content interests.  If the cost of cards, anticipation of changes or multiple incarnations hold you back, investigate the inexpensive or even free options at www.vistaprint.com.

Yes, not everyone is a extravert, and thank goodness.  Could you imagine the noisy chemistry or limited listening that would lead to?  If you consider yourself an introvert, though, and have discomfort in meeting new people, maybe this link on networking for introverts will help.  Or send me an e-mail and I’ll share a guide I’ve written about making good conversation.

I look forward to connecting with you!

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Ruth Schimel, PhD, is a Career & Life Management Consultant and long-time AIW member who founded The Schimel Lode. The Schimel Lode is a component fund of the Community Foundation for the National Capital Region. As of 2009, the fund offers an annual, $10,000-20,000 seed grant to encourage innovation and collaboration for the public good in the Washington, DC, area.

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Reflections on “Maybe Someday Love Will Cure Despair”

Written on May 25, 2010 in From the Heart
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By Deb Wunderman, AIW Board Member

I just learned today of the suicide of Michel Martin’s younger brother, Norman McQueen Jr., who was a former New York City firefighter who aided relief efforts at ground zero in the aftermath of Sept. 11. Michel is the host of “Tell Me More” on NPR—a favorite radio program of mine. In an incredible act of passion, caring, and courage, she recorded an emotional and insightful commentary on her brother and his recent suicide. For those interested, you can find it on “Can I Just Tell You?” by Michel Martin – Maybe Someday Love Will Cure Despair.

My blog this month is a short letter to Michel:

Dear Michel Martin:

My deepest sympathies go out to you and your family at this very tragic time. Your brother sounds like he was a hero—an ordinary, unrecognized man doing his best—but a man with a big heart, a good man, a man who possessed a strong sense of community, a sensitive man, a moral man, a great friend, a wonderful brother. These are the human qualities this world needs a whole lot more of, and it is a tragedy for all of us when a good and sensitive person like your brother gets beaten down so much that ending his own life becomes an option.

To me, it seems the most sensitive people among us have the hardest time dealing with the world’s harshness’s (and there are many). It is as if some people, perhaps the most sensitive and empathic people, absorb the world’s troubles and injustices like physical blows, and when they come too many at one time, it can be overwhelming. I wish there where more lifelines in this world, too (e.g., understanding and empathy), to scoop up and rescue wonderful people like your brother.

I am reminded of the movie It’s A Wonderful Life and the deeply troubled George Bailey saved by Clarence Odbody, Angel Second Class, who shows him how the world would have fared if he had never been born. Perhaps your brother, like George Bailey, repeatedly sacrificed his dreams for the well-being of others, but where was his Angel Second Class when he needed one?

I have come to love your insightful commentaries about so many injustices and issues faced in our modern time, and your commentary today—“Maybe Someday Love Will Cure Despair”—was full of compassion, love, courage, poignancy, and honesty. I cried when I heard you tell your brother’s story. We have lost an important and good person, and this ripple will be felt through time. There is no replacing him. I can only offer my simple tribute to you and your brother in hopes it offers some condolence.

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I wish I could be more like Jack Kerouac

Written on May 23, 2010 in For the Love of Language, The Craft of Writing
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By Andrew W. M. Beierle, AIW Board Member

I am preparing for my first transcontinental road trip, a weeklong journey to my new home in the San Bernardino National Forest, 6,109 feet above sea level, where I plan to begin a new long-term writing project.

Perhaps the most daunting aspect of this life-changing 2,645-mile trek is the distance itself. I dislike long drives. I get bored and impatient. I am prone to highway hypnosis. To distract myself, I am bringing along my favorite travel CD, an oft-played recording of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1994 musical, Sunset Boulevard. I also plan to listen, for a second time, to a recording of Jack Kerouac’s classic, On the Road, as read by actor Matt Dillon.

My route parallels Kerouac’s original 1947 journey fairly closely, especially the farther west I get, but how I will travel and what I will see could not be more different. Kerouc’s trip was rough-and-tumble and he encountered a ragtag collection of characters, sometimes big-hearted, often down on their luck. He carried a pitiful amount of cash with him and, if I recall correctly, sometimes spent it unwisely. My route has been plotted not by happenstance but by AAA and Mapquest. I’ll be cruising west in a red Honda Accord sport coupe, venerable but still supremely reliable, with A/C, sunroof, CD player, and, at the suggestion of my friend, novelist and short-story writer Allison Amend, a Motorola Motonav TN765T 5.1-Inch Widescreen Bluetooth Portable GPS Navigator.

Likewise, the machine Kerouac used to create his masterwork, an ancient black Underwood typewriter with the keys passing through a semi-circular faceplate that looks a bit like a demonic smile, is the antithesis of my gleaming twenty-four-inch iMac with its 1-TB hard drive. Kerouac typed his manuscript on a 120-foot scroll of paper; I cut and paste electrons.

How, I wonder, will these differences in travel and technology shape my trip and, more importantly, my observations? (I’m leaving the differences between Kerouac’s brain and mine out of the equation.) Is the romance of the road long gone? Have interstate highways, hermetically sealed vehicles, and voice-activated gizmos sterilized our landscapes, anesthetized our limbic systems?

There is much talk these days about the decline of publishing, the death of print. But is writing on a softly clicking computer different in some essential way than composing on a clattering keyboard? Can On the Road be read on a Kindle or Nook or iPad (or listened to on a CD at 70 miles per hour) without losing something essential, some contact with the paper that reflects the substance of the original manuscript? Who knows?

I wish I could be more like Jack Kerouc. At least I think I do. I’d like to think that as writers we share some instincts, some reflexes; that I might find a way to make my journey as spontaneous and adventuresome as his; that what I write about it might have even an iota of his insight and energy. Perhaps that is as remote a possibility as attempting to see the landscape through the eyes of Lewis and Clark. Perhaps not. Perhaps one day, I may turn off the Motonav and allow myself to just get lost in America.

Andrew W. M. Beierle is the author of the novels The Winter of Our Discothèque and First Person Plural. He will continue to serve on the board as AIW’s West Coast representative.

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