Motherhood & the Art of Juggling – Revisited

photo by Piece of Heart Photography

On U.S. Mothers’ Day weekend, it seems a good time to revisit an article I first posted in July 2012. At the end of the movie I Don’t Know How She Does It (based on the novel by Allison Pearson) the Greg Kinnear character describes his wife (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) as “a juggler.” Words which I found very apropos of my own life nine years ago when I first wrote this post, when my own Mélanie was a baby, and still find apropos today. The words are also apropos for Mélanie Rannoch, Kitty, Cordelia, Laura, and Lady Frances in the about-to-be-released The Westminster Intrigue, which sees Mélanie and Kitty on a mission that ends in a knife fight and coming home to check on their children (for that matter Malcolm and Julien are too – fatherhood is also the art of juggling), Mélanie interviewing suspects while she watches the children play in the Berkeley Square garden, Cordelia hosting a ball while trying to be part of the investigation and parent Livia and Drusilla, Lady Frances getting up early the day after the ball (very unusual for Frances!) thanks to the twins.

I wrote nine years ago that I’m very fortunate that my own Mélanie’s temperament and my own schedule make iteasier than I had anticipated to keep up with my writing schedule while being a mom. But it is a juggling act, I said then, whether that means balancing a baby against my shoulder or nursing while I type one-handed, spooning applesauce while I brainstorm with writer friends, doing a book reading aware on the edge of my consciousness of some tiny squeaks as a friend walks with Mel at the back of the room, holding her asleep in my lap on the red eye while I edit on my iPad, having lunch with my agent and editor with Mel asleep in her carrier beside me.

Today the juggling also involves my job at the Merola Opera Program. As well as taking breaks during precious evening and weekend writing time for “mummy daughter time” . One busy Sunday as I finishing Westminster Intrigue I took a couple of hours off for Mélanie to have a play date and all of us to go swimming, and in the end I realized the break was good for me as well as her and got just as much done as if I’d been at the computer all day – because if I had been, I’d have spent a certain amount of time staring into space or scrolling through social media while my brain searched for the next coherent thought.

I think it’s fortunate that my writing process has always involved lots of thinking and mulling time. I wrote in the original post nine years ago about talking with Veronica Wolff, a wonderful writer, fabulous mom, and great friend, about how we can both only write so many words before before inevitably we need to ponder how to handle a transition, a plot development, an upcoming scene (it’s amazing how something as simple as getting a character into or out of the room can stymie one). And a lot of this mulling is subconscious, so I often find I can work through whatever writing issue is plaguing me during a break with Mélanie. It also can play well with having a second job. By the time I get to an evening of writing, some issues have sorted themselves in my subconscious while spending the day at my other job.

Of course some things fall by the wayside – I said that nine years ago and it’s still true today. I don’t blog nearly as much – I hope to get back to it. Nine years ago, I said some days I don’t look at social media at all and then there are other days when I find the one thing I can accomplish while tending to a fussing baby is updating Facebook and Twitter (fairly easy to do one-handed). Now it’s Instagram too and if all I get to is a social media post it’s because I had a late meeting and then spent the evening with Mélanie. (Since COVID, posting a photo every day has become a routine, because it gives me a reason to get moderately dressed up and do my hair and makeup 🙂 Nine years ago I wrote that that some nights I wonder how writing a book with a baby can seem entirely do-able but fixing dinner with one can seem an insurmountable challenge. Fixing dinner is easier now- and my daughter helps -it’s a fun activity to share. And as for my house – well, my friends can attest that I was inclined to let housework go when on a deadline even pre-Mélanie :-). And that hasn’t changed much in nine years :-).

There are days when I feel I’m not getting anything done – that was true then and now. But I have written a book and novella every year since Mélanie born. Even the days when I only write a few hundred words add up over the course of a week or a month. Averaging around 1,000 words a day, most days, works pretty well and is doable – even if those words are sometimes written between midnight and 2:00 am. Snatching moments to write is key. I started my new novella on Thursday night while sitting in the car with Mélanie waiting for the wonderful San Francisco Opera Adler Fellows drive-in concert to start while Mélanie watched Carmen Sandiego on my phone (like me she loves spy stories).

When I wrote nine years ago I had just visited the Stanford campus with friends and I showed Mélanie where Mummy was an undergrad. We went to the History Department, where I learned so much that helps me as an historical novelist. But thinking back to those days of balancing classes, rehearsals, an honors thesis, my first novel (which I was co-writing my mom while in school), I realized that the art of juggling is something else I took away from my university years.

Now Mélanie is writing her own stories, which entails a different sort of juggling – finding time when she can have the computer (those are good moments to clean the house). Having watched me write since she was born, she is wonderfully supportive and understanding. The night I was finishing the Westminster Intrigue copy edits she offered encouragement, helped with proofreading (she caught a misnumbered chapter), and shared her precious York mints to keep me going. Writing is so much more fun with her!

How do you balance different elements of your life, whether it’s writing or parenthood or other elements?

 

Mummy Juggling

photo: Alexandra Elliott

I’ve blogged before about the joys and challenges of being a writer and a mother and the “art of juggling.” I thought back to that blog yesterday. I had to give a presentation at meeting for my Merola Opera Program job, meet up with my daughter’s nanny to drop her off, and later that night finish going through copy edits for Gilded Deceit. It was raining. We were running late. I wasn’t sure I’d told the nanny the right place to meet. Finally, on the way into the meeting, I apologized to a colleague for running late, and she said not to worry and then added, “It must be hard being a mother.”

Later, sitting in the meeting (after I turned around the heel of my Wolford tights so a run wouldn’t show and fished out a blue crayon from my Longchamp tote to make notes because I couldn’t find a pen) I thought about that comment. Being a mother is exhausting at times. It’s rewarding. It can be challenging, especially when one tries to juggle the various parts of one’s life or simply get out the door with a sleepy five-year-old and all the things you need or both your days. But I don’t really think of it as hard. And more than anything else, I think I would call it fun.

Before I was a mother I didn’t play hide and seek tag, set up doll tea parties, or tell stories in the car. I didn’t get to share the wonder of seeing my daughter discover the world.

When I got to the copy edits, I thought about Suzanne and the way she juggles her life, which makes mine look simple. I think Suzanne would say the secret (along with “not minding if you fail”) is finding happiness in the moment. Which I’d agree with.

 

Museum Inspiration

Mélanie and I spent a stormy afternoon yesterday at the Palace of the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. The building itself is a treat, a replica the Palais de la Legion d’Honneur in Paris, surrounded by a rolling golf course, overlooking the city on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. Mélanie calls it a “castle.” We saw Raphael’s “Portrait of a Lady with a Unicorn” (and left with two stuffed unicorns from the gift shop) and a Pierre Bonnard exhibit, visited the 18th century Salon Doré that I love and the teacup display Mel loves, and listens to a wonderful organ concert.

The late 18th and early 19th century artworks and furniture and other household items feel like old friends and have inspired scenes and characters in my books. It’s fun now to tell Mélanie “that fireplace could be in on of Mummy’s books” or “doesn’t that lady look as though she could be on one of my book covers?” And just being in the museum – the soaring ceilings, the marble floors, the beautiful artwork and beautiful views is at once inspiring and relaxing – like stepping into another world. As we took a break in the café (Mel enjoying strawberry shortcake, me sipping a glass of brut rosé) I looked through the glass doors that run along one side of the room at the rain-splashed garden outside. Gray sky, a tracery of trees branches whipped by the wind, statues, a thick ivy hedge. Suddenly, a scene for the next Malcolm & Suzanne story (a novella following London Gambit) sprang to my mind. I’ve busy with research and plot logistics and felt a long way from writing, but this scene sprang vividly to mind, though I’m still not sure quite how it fill into the story. I left feeling refreshed and inspired to write and had a bonding afternoon with my daughter that exposed her to new things. Thank you, Legion of Honor!

Are there particular locations that you evoke scenes in books for you, as a writer or a reader?

 

Motherhood, writing & the never ending carousel

I woke up this morning thinking that I needed to wash Mélanie’s Halloween costume (which she’s already worn many times) so it’s ready for pre-Halloween events this weekend. I also needed to make sure I had a crown/headdress for her (she’s going to be Anna from Frozen; fortunately I tried on my own Elsa costume a week or so ago). I felt calmer after I had both those things done and realized I’d been stressing about getting everything sorted for Halloween for a while. And I’m already feeling the pressure of making sure I’m ready for the holidays.

Summer is a busy time for me with lots of Merola Opera Program performances and events. I was looking forward to things calming down the fall. But no sooner were we back from our post-Merola holiday, than I was worrying about making up for lost time on my WIP, new Merola projects, getting ready for Halloween, and before long starting to think about the holidays.

Today, feeling a little of the stress melt away as I ticked off a few “to do” items, I realized I should just accept that life never does slow down, not really. Not with a young child at any rate. Not with writing. I often think “once this book is done it will be easier”, but then there are revisions, copy edits, a new book to plot, perhaps a novella to fit in, and soon that new book needs to be finished and the oodles of time I thought i had has shrunk down to an ever narrowing window.

The best one can do is take a deep breath, do what has to be done, try to enjoy the moment, and not get overwhelmed. None of this is an earthshaking insight. I’ve heard it from other people and thought it myself  many times in the past. But it’s something I it helpful to remember, especially in the fun and chaos of autumn-into-holidays with a book to finish, a novella to write, a new book to plot–not to mention a little girl whose childhood i really want to savor.

Does your life seem to be a constant carousel of personal and professional deadlines? How do you maintain your balance?

Happy autumn!

 

The Nanny Conundrum

photo: Raphael Coffey

Last night was the Merola Grand Finale, a concert at the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco that marks the end of this summer’s Merola training program. A bittersweet night, as it is exciting to see the Merola participants showcase their bountiful talents and the wonderful way they’ve stretched their artistic wings over the summer and sad to be saying goodbye to them. It is also the day of the year I spend the longest time away from Mélanie (eight plus hours). I am inestimably grateful to my wonderful friend Bonnie who watched her. And the evening made me think back to a post I put up recently on History Hoydens and thought I would repeat here. I tend to think of my posts as about my books, about my life as a writer, or about my life as a mom. Often they touch on two of the three, but this one definitely touches on all three.

Summer is a challenging time for me in terms of childcare. I’m very fortunate that I can write at home (or in cafés, at the play park, even on occasion at places like Children’s Fairyland) and I can also do most of my work for the Merola Opera Program (for which I work part time as Director of Foundation, Corporate & Government Relations) remotely. But Merola is a summer training program, so our summer is full of master classes, performances, and other events I need to attend. This summer, in the midst of the Merola Summer Festival Season, we also had the Opera America Conference in San Francisco. I had a hard time getting childcare sorted out for the weekend of the conference, but at last I had it organized. I walked into the first day of the conference on a Friday afternoon wearing a tailored dress and pumps, my beloved Longchamp tote bag for once more like a briefcase than a changing bag, only to get a text from my nanny for Saturday and Sunday saying she’d come down with stomach flu.

I sat in the first session of the conference listening to some fascinating insights into opera marketing while drafting an email on my cell phone to everyone I could think of with children or grandchildren to see if anyone had a babysitter they trusted to whom they could refer me. Incredibly, while still at that first session, I found someone (through a wonderful friend who emailed me while on vacation in New York). Mélanie had a great time, I got to attend the rest of the conference, and we made wonderful new friends. But the nerve-wracking incident made me think about the challenges of finding childcare and the trust involved in leaving your children with someone. A dilemma that my historical characters share as well.

A children’s nurse has been part of middle and upperclass British households for centuries. In the late 18th century many aristocratic women (such as Lady Bessobrough, Lady Caroline Lamb’s mother) breastfed their children. Rousseau was a great advocate of breast feeding, which was part of the romantic idealization of childhood. Fashionable gowns were even made with nursing bodices “designed to allow mothers to nourish their infants in the most genteel manner.” But a number of mothers employed wet nurses. Some wet nurses were part of the household. In Romeo & Juliet, a couple of centuries earlier, Juliet’s nurse was her wet nurse and has obviously spent far more time with Juliet in her almost fourteen years than either Lady or Lord Capulet. Others sent their children away to a wet nurse. Jane Austen’s mother sent all her children to a wet nurse in the nearby village of Deane. Their mother visited them every day, but the young Austens didn’t come home to live until they were eighteen months old. (Mélanie, who is still nursing, maxes out at about five hours away from me; I think the longest we’ve done is eight).

Even those who breastfed would have a “dry nurse” to manage things in the nursery. Later if the family could afford it, governesses would take over not just education, but a great deal of the day to day care of the children in the family. Often the would remain close to their charges long after they grew up. Harriet Cavendish, who I blogged about a few weeks ago, wrote to her former governess Selena Trimmer about her hopes and qualms when she accepted Granville Leveson-Gower’s proposal.

Hiring someone to look after one’s children is a great leap of trust. There’s a level of intimacy in a child bonding with someone else that I don’t think really hit home of me until I faced the conundrum of childcare myself. Whatever one may say about changes in parenting and attitudes toward the parent-child relationship, the love of parents like the Austens for their children is plain from their letters. I can’t believe they didn’t feel some of the same concerns I’ve experienced myself. I’ve been fortunate to find a number of wonderful people to help take care of Mélanie. But it’s still a bit nerve-wracking whenever I leave her with a new person. Perhaps it’s not surprising that my WIP concerns Laura Dudley, the governess/nurse to the two young children of my central couple, Malcolm and Suzanne Rannoch, being accused of murder. Malcolm and Suzanne are convinced Laura is innocent. They care about her, but both have faced the fact that one can never really know even those closed to one. And yet—

“I know it sounds absurd for me to be so certain. But for all Laura’s reserve, I can’t believe she’s a cold-blooded killer,” Suzanne said.

“Why such certainty?” Malcolm asked.

Suzanne’s fingers froze on the jet buttons on her waistcoat bodice. “Because I trusted her with our children.”

It’s an intimate bond, paying someone to watch one’s children. One of Mélanie’s nannies recently moved away. It felt like saying goodbye to a family member. We gave her a necklace with two hearts, one for her and one for Mélanie. Trust is priceless.

What are some of your favorite nurse and governess characters in fiction? Parents, how do you manage childcare? Writers, if you have children, do your thoughts about them and their care taking creep into your writing?

 

Malcolm & Suzanne and Charles & Mélanie

photo: Raphael Coffey

Hope everyone is enjoying the summer. I’m looking forward to the Merola Opera Program’s performances of Don Giovanni this week which have inspired a couple of recent posts. I’m also blogging on History Hoydens about nannies and the challenges of childcare and trust involved, today and historically. Do check it out, especially if you like me “writing mom” posts.

I’ve also been mulling over an email  I got from a reader. She was excited to have found Malcolm & Suzanne after having started with Charles & Mélanie and said some lovely things about The Berkeley Square Affair. She also said “Is it my imagination or does the story as told for Malcolm and Suzanne seem less dark than when it was Charles and Melanie’s? Malcolm seems more hopeful and less pessimistic than Charles, while Suzanne seems more pessimistic and less pragmatic than Melanie.”

This intrigued me. To me they are the same people, but I think inevitably characters develop and change a bit over the course of a series (so they’d probably have morphed a bit even if they were still called Charles and Mel). I definitely think Malcolm is more aware of being a spy and the compromises he himself has made than Charles was – that was actually starting to be the case for the Beneath a Silent Moon and The Mask of Night Charles. Charles is Daughter/Secrets didn’t even like to use the word spy. So Malcolm was going to have a more pragmatic reaction to Suzanne’s revelations and be more aware of his own deceptions and compromises. But I don’t know that I’d call him more hopeful. I don’t think of Suzanne as more pessimistic but perhaps since you’re seeing her in the midst of her deceptions she dwells on them and her guilt more? In any case, I’m always intrigued by how my characters appear to others, and I’d love to hear what readers of this blog think.

 

The daunting prospect of a blank screen….

Driving to the vet’s Wednesday with three cats and a toddler (an adventure in and of itself, though we got through the cats’ check ups with everyone in a surprisingly good mood), I heard an interesting interview on NPR with the writer Dani Shapiro. One of the things she talked about was how difficult it is to walk to her desk in the morning and begin to write, how easy it is to get distracted on the way. This particularly resonate with me, as I am beginning to write the next Malcolm and Suzanne book after months of revisions and copy edits. I love the adventure of starting a new book, but there’s no denying the daunting nature of a blank screen. Instead of opening my computer to pages to revise, I open it to the limitless, exciting, and terrifying prospect of words to be written. I love being in my characters’ world. But making the mental jump into that world can be daunting. And with a young child, one can’t afford to spending writing time being daunted.

The trick I’ve settled into to get myself going is to tell myself I only have to write 100 words, then I can check my email, look at Facebook or Twitter, surf the web, or some other tantalizing, short (the key is to keep it short) break. 100 words is much less terrifying than 1000 (which is what I usually try to write a day). Usually somehow I can come up with something to say (it’s even better if I’ve thought it through on the drive to the Peet’s where I do most of my writing). Then a quick break, then another 100 words. Usually by the time I get to 500 I don’t need the breaks anymore or at least I write 200 or 300 words between breaks. On a really good day, I get on a roll after the first 100 words and scarcely need a break at all (sometimes go on to 1500, 2000, etc…). But knowing I can take a break can be the difference between starting to write and spending an hour or so staring at the screen or surfing the web or scrolling through social media. Of course the breaks between 100 word burst also take up precious time (particularly precious if it’s baby nap time). But I find I need to stop and think in any case. My subconscious is working while I read an article in the NYT or browse a fashion site. Or so I tell myself, and I do often find it easier to write again after the break. And telling myself I only have to write 100 more words, gets me to click back into Scrivener after my mini-break.

And so, after our trip to the vet’s, I returned the cats home, and managed to follow a chaotic morning with a reasonably productive afternoon. Today I was able to dive into the new book with reasonable ease after Mélanie and I spent the morning at the Pumpkin Patch. I have no illusions that every day will be this easy. But somehow, 100 words at a time, this book will get written.

What tricks do you use to get yourself to write?

 

The writing mom – the need to decompress

photo:Raphael Coffey

Ever since I was in my early thirties, my hair has had enough gray that I’ve had it colored every four weeks or so (I was actually excited when I started doing it, because it allows me to play up the auburn). I love to read fashion magazines while the color is baking. But lately, post-Mélanie particularly, I’m more likely to be found juggling a baby and a laptop and trying to get some precious writing time in.

Today I definitely felt I should make use of any time I could get, with promo to do for The Paris Affair and my WIP due in April. I arrived at the salon distinctly frazzled. I was up late working last night and overslept this morning. I went through a flurry of dressing Mel and me, feeding cats, and packing baby snacks, diapers, computer, and other essentials. And on the drive to the salon, my scratchy throat told me I was fighting a cold. When my hair stylist mentioned how she had slowed down to fight off a cold, I realized some decompressing time would probably make me more productive – not to mention happier! – in the long run. So instead of pulling out my laptop, I sipped a cup of green tea and flipped through a copy of Elle. Mel liked the pictures too!

It was amazing how much better I felt after that little break. Enough so that I was able to plan out this blog post while styling my hair :-). A good reminder that sometimes slowing down can actually make one more efficient.

What do you do to decompress? And do you find it as hard as I do to remember to do it?

Have a great weekend!

 

The metaphor of the diaper bag

Last week I drove into San Francisco for a meeting. Mélanie was with a (wonderful!) friend for the afternoon. I parked my car and instead of the usual ritual of unloading stroller and carseat, simply grabbed my purse. As I slung the purse over shoulder, considerably lighter without changing pad, diapers, snacks, and toys, it occurred to me that in many ways my bag is a metaphor for the changes and continuities in my life since my daughter arrived (fourteen months ago last week).

Even pre-Mélanie, I could never carry a really tiny bag. It had to accommodate phone, wallet, makeup bag, daytimer and later iPad. Not to mention a litter of receipts, dinner mints, random pieces of notepaper, ticket stubs, and loose change that always seems to accumulate at the bottom. My main bag pre-Mélanie was a striped Longchamp, bought on a trip to New York, that I love. It’s nice enough to go from day to evening and large enough to hold the above items. I still use it sometimes when I carry a second bag for Mel’s stuff (here it is in a picture of Mélanie and me in Central Park on another NY trip).

But I knew once one my baby arrived my diaper bag would double as my purse most of the time. So I bought a brown Longchamp Le Pliage tote (here it is with Mel and me on Halloween).

It holds Mélanie’s gear side by side with my own, just as Mélanie now occupies a central place in my life. It’s sturdy and easy to sponge – it can stand up to lids coming off containers of mushy banana, cheerios spilling in the bottom, little hands smeared with sunscreen or food leaving prints on the outside. But it also holds my laptop and doesn’t look out of place with a tailored dress or blazer. Which seems appropriate as my life with Mélanie still involves lots of writing time and my fashion choices still run to dresses and heels. It’s a great carryon – it’s gone to New York with Mélanie and me twice. And it’s large enough to hold everything, stylish enough to go everywhere, and neutral enough to go with anything, which is pretty much vital to the life of a working mom of a toddler. It’s a multi-tasker, just as I am.

My bag felt surprisingly light on my shoulder that afternoon as I walked to the meeting. I enjoyed the meeting. I was happy that my purse could easily make the switch from diaper bag to tote filled with agendas and notes and reports. But it was great later in the evening to have the baby gear back in the my bag and my baby back in my arms.

Do you have accessories or pieces of clothing that do double duty in different parts of your life?

I posted a Valentine’s Day 1816 Fraser Correspondence letter from Charles/Malcolm to Mel/Suzette earlier this week. And there’s a “favorite literary romantic moments” contest for an ARC of The Paris Affair open through noon PST on Tuesday the 19th. Have a great weekend!

 

Lessons from My Daughter – Observing

photo: Bonnie Glaser

In my WIP, Malcolm and Suzanne have a second child, Jessica {who will be familiar to readers of the Charles and Mélanie books}. I set the book in October 1817 with Jessica ten months old, so that at one point at least while I was writing it, she would be the same age as my daughter Mélanie. For once I wouldn’t have to try to remember what my friends’ kids were doing at the particular age of the children in my books or ask my friends to remember age-appropriate details only to be told it was all a blur.

So this month, the parental wonder of watching of a child’s growth and development has had an added focus for me. I’ve written scenes with Suzanne nursing while I’ve nursed myself. I’ve sat in the play park and taken notes on my iPad or my phone about how Mel pulls herself up on the edge of a bench and bounces on the balls of her feet, the little squeals and outstretched hands with which she greets other children, the great interest with which she snatches up and studies a leaf.

And in the process, I’ve made discoveries both as a parent and as a writer. As Mélanie’s mom, I’m reminded of how important it is to savor every moment. The weight of her in my arms, the tiny hand grabbing my hair or the bodice of my dress when she’s nursing, the way she crawls with one foot tucked up under her. And as a writer, I’m reminded of how important it is to observe people. I often find myself writing “He drew a breath” or “She adjusted the folds of her gown” endless times in the course of a book. There’s such a rich wealth of gesture, inflection, and intonation to be observed. A world of research that can be done not in books or archives or on the internet but by looking up from the computer screen and glancing round a café, taking a walk, visiting a park or a museum or a shopping mall. The smallest specific detail can set a scene, bring a character to life, define a relationship.

I’ve just added a new Fraser Correspondence letter from Aline {a good observer of people for all she has her head in numbers} to Gisèle on the eve of The Paris Affair, about Wilhelmne of Sagan’s new and scandalous {even for Wilhelmine} love affair with Lord Stewart.

Happy Halloween {there’s Mélanie above as Angelina in La Cenerentola aka Cinderella). And warm thoughts and wishes to those on the East Coast.