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Wine and Writing Don’t Mix

September 13, 2022 By danabowmancreative 4 Comments

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. The story of me and a very large, clunky Remington typewriter is on my first blog, Momsie – the blog where I wrote about momhood, babies, husbands, and pets (Steve. I wrote about Steve). Click on the image below for a blog post from Momsie about Steve’s squeak-purr:

https://momsieblog.com/2017/02/17/weak/

I remember when I first started Momsie – I told my friend Christy that “everyone and their dog has a blog” – but she convinced me that dogs were not really my demographic and that I just needed to focus on Steve because he was a total cash cow.* Thus, Momsie was born.

It was a relief to write. It was easy. The stories were just so plentiful. My kids were great material; they were so cute**, and I could throw my words out there and offer up some laughter for the four or five folks who actually read me.

But also, Momsie was born out of a very real desperation (in my recovery circles some would call it the “gift of desperation”) to handle my new sobriety. I needed something to do. I needed someone to be. The blog saved me. It took my poor, mushy brain that was slowly starting to un-mush (medical terms are my thing) and it soothed it.

At camp, when you take the crumpled old t-shirt that your mom reminded you last minute to toss into the bottom of your backpack, and you rubberband the living daylights out of it and toss it in dye? That’s writing. (Notice how well I’m explaining this? #Pulitzer).

I mean – you have this rumpled, frayed thing, and then you twist it, fiddle with it, not really sure what you’re doing at all or where you’re going with it… And then the dye starts to seep in, slowly, all crazy and winding with rivulets and tributaries of saturation. And the end result? It’s a cacophony of color.

If you haven’t gathered, I totally have all my 70’s tie dye shirts still. They’re stretchy crop tops now, but that’s in style. #influencer

No, I’m not wearing the t-shirts/crop tops anymore. One did fit Steve, but he was so mortified that I forgot to take pictures and this is a tragedy so breathtaking I need to stop writing about it right here.

With Momsie, I wrote because the words just kinda came out of my fingers. My husband bought me a used laptop for my birthday, and then I had someplace mobile for the words to go. I could write at the park. I could write in bed. I could write while Red was trying to learn to use the potty and I had to sit outside the bathroom for hours until my butt fell asleep and I would end up eating all the bribery M and M’s. Pain is a great motivator for writing.

And Momsie was born, and grew and thrived. The rest was history.

Well, no. Actually, it’s not history – it’s my life right now. The words still have to come out of me pretty much every day or my brain goes all wonky. The colors must out, as it were.

There were a bunch of articles that came out in the early 2000’s about how alcohol was good for creativity. This was paired along with the whole “red wine is good for your heart” thing, which was soooooo my thing back when I was drinking. Lookit. I’m drinking four glasses of red wine! YOU KNOW, CUZ IT’S GOOD FOR MY HEART.

Yea. Turns out, the heart thing is not true.

And the whole, “artists need alcohol to create” thing? It’s total crapola.

Our muse is not a bottle. It’s in us.

My colors are completely Dana-Generated. I don’t use anything outside of myself and my own experiences for their saturation. This is what works best for me. Dana-generated colors cause a daily bloom of gratitude. It’s the ultimate “look what I made!” – every day.

Thanks for the listen, and, as always, I’m grateful for you, my dear readers.

Where are the colors in your life?


*cashcat

* *They are still cute.

Filed Under: cats, creativity, depression and anxiety, mental health, parenting, recovery, sober mom, sobriety, wellness, women in recovery, writing Tagged With: alcohol does not help your heart, creative recovery, creativity, funny, funny parenting, heart health, moms, parenting

Safe places

August 9, 2022 By danabowmancreative 2 Comments

Welcome to my brain. It’s a little weird in here, but also very kitschy. It’s a New Girl episode where they’re all a lot older and less drinkie. I’d watch it.

Also, my brain today is back in a safe place, so it’s humming with ideas.

I long for spaces that match my insides. If you are a literal person, like my 13-year-old son (aka “the lawyer”), that kind of statement is followed by an “Ew, MOM.”

But I bet some of you understand. I long for spaces that allow me to take a deep breath in, and then out, and feel all *equally pressurized.

Here are some spaces that do NOT help me to feel all equally pressurized:

  1. The vet. More on this later, but I have had wayyyy too many visits to our local vet lately (they are wonderful and lovely and lovING, but still, no no, not my safe place).
  2. That one place in Walmart towards the back where that guy in the red button-down is trying to sell you new cell phone service and NO MATTER how much you focus your eyes straight ahead, he still manages to sidle up and you have to do that awkward slow-walk, but you’re also still moving to show him you have places to BE in the Walmart, and no you don’t need a new cell, but also you don’t want to be mean because he’s just trying to make a living? That place.
  3. Actually, all of Walmart, really.
  4. Any school supplies aisle right now. Even in Target, where the cool school supplies hang out.

Places that help me to feel safe? Well, here’s one of them:

Nice product placement, Dana. Shameless plug.

You might recognize this coffee house – I was here a few weeks ago for my solo writer’s retreat. I’m back just for a few hours of writing.

It’s safe here. My insides match my outsides here.

Other safe places:

  • My front porch
  • The dinner table unless there is a casserole involved. Casseroles are my nemesis.
  • My back stoop, especially if Rey the Good Dog is with me (She’s a leaner. Do any of you have doggos that like to lean on you? It’s very grounding).
  • A church pew
  • Cody, Wyoming (I visited there long ago and I rode a horse named Jumper which was apt. I’m coming back, Jumper. Wait for me).
  • Anyplace accompanied by a good book. I’m reading The Lioness right now and it’s so gooooooood.

These types of places allow me to actively rest. Then, about four minutes later I’ll have a little burst of ideas, which I’ll have to write down (I usually end up texting myself which can be super awkward if I accidentally text Darrel, my pastor. It’s kind of hard to explain a text that says: ANXIETY BIRDS to my pastor. But you know? I’m sure he aimed for understanding. He always does. Especially with me).

Oh, and here’s another safe space: Anywhere Rey naps. Need proof?

VOILA:

I mean, honestly.

Do you have spaces that help you breathe a little easier? Create a little more? Do they help you fill up, overflow, contribute?

I think space is crucial to creativity. And notice? I used this weird term *equally pressurized. I NEVER said my space helps me feel “balanced.” That’s just a term for gymnasts and 20 year olds.

Where are your safe places?

Would you like to get some ideas to help plan your own creative retreat? Click below:

Filed Under: cats, creativity, depression and anxiety, mental health, parenting, recovery, sober mom, sobriety, wellness, women in recovery, writing Tagged With: am writing, am writing fiction, book proposal, creative space, creativity, sober retreat, sober travel, women travel, women writers, writing space

Jim’s story, songwriting, and 70’s tuxedos.

April 21, 2021 By danabowmancreative Leave a Comment

Ok, so on our latest Neighborgood episode, my cousin was the storyteller.

I do realize this kind of sounds like that thing where you only hire your family to be a part of your Big Thing… but listen. The Neighborgood is not a Big Thing. Not yet, anyhow. And Jim is cool.

Also, I’m really trying to get my dad on the show too. He’s cool too. It’s my podcast. I can do what I want.

Anyhow. Jim’s story is about how he got Covid.. and how he had Covid-guilt (it’s a thing). And how he is now. And if you want to hear more, go listen. This post is about this:

Well, not really, but I really cannot seem to avoid posting this picture of Jim in his prom tux in as many places as possible.

What this post is REALLY about, in spite of all the 70’s goodness, is songwriting.

Jim is a lot of things. He’s a pastor at a church. He’s an expert of the enneagram. He used to be a science teacher. He’s an artist. And he is a musician. And so is his son, Daniel.

There is lot of creativity going on with this family. Like… a LOT. And I am grateful for it.

My family is creative. My mom is a painter (she would say she “was” but in my book, once a painter, always a painter.) Also my dad? He has the ability to fix almost anything with stray baling wire. That’s creative, folks. My sister, Jenni? She paints. She decorates cakes. She also sends me snapchats on a regular basis of her pug, Arya, doing something cute to disco music. See? More creativity.

My sister Sherry? The best ideas ever for engaging little kids (Sensory tables! Cookie decorating contests! Endless patience!) And she quilts. I have one of her creations on my bed and am glad that she is the quilter in the family because: Warmth, but beautiful.

My brother? Don’t get me started. He used to do radio shows -recorded on a cassette player of the olden days that looks like this:

Yes kids. This did work.

He basically did a one-man comedy show that was actually funny. Sometimes he would invite us as guests, Jenni and I. We would ruin it. His humor lit up a room.

And then there’s me. The youngest one in the bunch. I write things. And now, I podcast things. I have to, because if I don’t I feel like something is missing.

And lately, I have really come to appreciate this whole creativity thing. It seems more important now, as I get older. And 2020. And sadness.

Creativity saves us all.

It’s songwriting, for the soul.

And lest you think that’s cheesy, just remember this: The first thing that we know about God is that He created things. And no, I am not comparing myself to God. Not even.

I’m just saying: God created us. We create things. It’s the formula. Or we wither.

And… Here are some of Jim’s paintings. They are lovely:

look at the sky

And finally,

#nobodyframesspreadsheets:

Filed Under: creativity, depression and anxiety, mental health, parenting, podcast, recovery, sober mom, sobriety, wellness, women in recovery, writing Tagged With: creativity, family, painting

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