Tuesday Evenings
By Geri Hoekzema
Italian renaissance writer Dante drew an eloquent verbal picture of the place in which many working moms find themselves when he wrote “In the middle of my life, I awoke to find myself wandering in a dark wood.” The working parents, harried homemakers and corporate burnouts I’ve met might not be experiencing the intense spiritual crisis Dante relates. However, we often wake up on Sunday morning realizing that the preceding workweek sped by in a blur. Merely taking care of immediate concerns as they present themselves is challenging enough – forget about finding a greater life purpose or making the world a better place.
When I’m in this mindset, my world seems more like an airless room than a dark wood. On Tuesday evenings, however, the window flies open to allow experiences I once took for granted, and daily frustrations lose their hold over me. That’s the night my writers’ critique group meets. Five women, including me, gather around the kitchen table in one member’s home to read our latest work and offer suggestions or encouragement.
Writing a novel is like climbing a mountain. The initial draft is only the first ledge. After that come revisions, rewrites and the daunting business of finding an agent. For the writer who holds a day job, takes care of a family and participates in community activities, merely getting the story on paper can take years. Reference books such as Writers Market caution aspiring novelists that no matter how juicy the story and solid the writing, the odds are stacked against us – only one manuscript in thousands will become a book.
Some women in my group may go weeks without submitting a chapter. Demanding work, kids’ activities, basement floods or every appliance breaking down simultaneously keeps us from keyboard or pen. But with or without a weekly contribution, even when publication seems as far away as the moon, we keep gathering on Tuesday night.
Why do we bother? Wouldn’t it just be easier to resign ourselves to working on the job and at home, and filling our down time with TV?
While editorial feedback is critical to developing good writing – I wouldn’t dream of submitting a piece to a magazine or publisher without running it through my group first – my actual submissions are as infrequent as snow in May. At least for me, the drive that propels me to continue attending our gatherings doesn’t come from the promise of tangible rewards.
I go because during those two hours, I’m reminded that I’m a whole person, with many interests and a mind that can handle more complex issues than what’s for dinner tonight. I’m convinced that every mom on the planet needs this reminder occasionally. Otherwise we’re apt to turn into wish fulfillment centers for the people in our lives, and that’s not good for either them or us.
I go because on Tuesday evenings, I’m able to believe that someday one of my stories, articles or essays will help a reader get through a dark period or see new potential for her own life. Such help has come to me from some very unlikely sources; I may never know when I become that source for someone else. Knowing this helps me see my life in a larger context and forces me out of self-absorption.
I go because Tuesday nights remind me of a time during my youth when the world opened up before me and all things seemed possible. In this adventurous spirit, budgetary constraints felt like challenges to my ingenuity rather than irritations, knots in any relationship could be untangled somehow, and as the slogan says, life was a mystery to be lived rather than a problem to be solved. On Tuesday nights I find myself resolving to bring some of that spirit back to workaday life. I realize again that it’s possible to live artfully no matter what I do for a living, how dull household chores might be or how often I deal with homework angst.
My critique group embodies several traits necessary to a healthy organization. It balances mutual support with challenge and business with socializing. Each member contributes something different to the editorial process: one woman has an eagle eye for detail, another senses the overall mood or color of a piece, and still another is an expert on pacing and dialogue. It is precisely these characteristics that make this group the one I’d take to a desert island with me (assuming my family’s there already) - they provide the comfort of friendship while challenging me to grow.
Even if the day’s been really bad, I leave our Tuesday evening meetings renewed and able to acknowledge that tomorrow offers a new start. It’s the same feeling that some people get from attending religious services, communing with nature or running marathons. I’ve come to think of this renewal, from whatever source, as a Tuesday Evening experience.
Dark woods and windowless spaces visit every life sooner or later. This is why we all need the light and fresh air that Tuesday Evening Experiences bring, whether the experience comes from a meditation group, church circle, cooking club or dance class. We emerge from our activities renewed, revitalized and able to view the difficult or dull aspects of our lives in a new light.
About the Author: Geri Hoekzema lives in Vancouver, Washington with her family. You can reach Geri at gerihoekzema@hotmail.com
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