Peg Cheng

Author + Teacher

Peg Cheng

By

The Truth is Here, Now What?

american-flagDonald Trump just became the next President of the United States of America.

I’m in shock.

Yet part of me is not.

The part of me that’s in shock believed, like so many others, all the tweets, posts, and media stories this year that said Hilary Clinton was going to win. That not only was she going to win, she was going to sweep.

I believed that the American public wasn’t going to fall for Trump and Pence’s platform of hatred, racism, sexism, classism, xenophobia, and homophobia.

This side of me said, “I can’t believe it! How could they vote for him?!”

But my other side said, “I knew it. I knew that people were as bad as I thought.”

People are saying we live in a split nation.

Well, I live in a split self.

One side of me believes that people are good and they mean well.

The other side of me says no, you’re wrong, there are many people that are bad.

But there’s more. I have never told anyone this before but I have secretly believed for years that about half of my fellow citizens are mostly good and half are mostly bad. Sounds simplistic, doesn’t it? I know it does. That’s why I haven’t told anyone until now.

My theory is not based on anything scientific. It’s purely anecdotal. I have experienced racism, sexism, and other hateful things on a regular basis throughout my life. I’ve also experienced love, generosity, and kindness. When a bad thing would happen to me, a good thing would balance it, and vice versa. Back and forth. Good and bad.

As the presidential election results came in last night, I could hardly believe my eyes. My split self stood at attention.

As of this post, Trump won 47% of the popular vote, and Clinton won 48%. That’s basically 50-50.

I didn’t think my secret theory about people would be made so crystal clear, and in such a public and open way, but there it is–on every news channel, every news site, and every newspaper. It’s being discussed on millions of phone texts, Facebook pages, and Twitter feeds around the world.

What I’ve been feeling and suspecting about people for a long time is now clear as day.

Half of America voted for hate.

Half of American voted for hope.

The truth is here.

But despite the fact that I’ve been thinking about this 50/50 split for years, it’s still hard to digest.

Hard to fathom.

Hard to accept.

I feel validated, but a part of me wishes I hadn’t been.

So, what to do now?

I can’t tell you what to do–everyone has their own path to walk–but I can tell you what I’m going to do.

First, I’m practicing extreme self care.

Funny, I just wrote about surrendering to rest less than three days ago. Somehow, my timing was spot on.

I need to rest and regroup and grieve the future of my country. I’m going to eat well, get lots of sleep, meditate, walk, exercise, see my self-care practitioners, and be with good people in my life who are going through the same shock. Love is the way–love for myself through self care, and love shared with the people I care about.

Second, I’m going after my dream.

I realized my dream of being a full time writer this year, but it hasn’t been all roses and unicorns. In fact, it’s been hard and scary. I’ve hit lots of potholes and even fell down a few wells all along the way. But the Trump Presidency isn’t like stepping into a pothole or falling down a well; it’s like being sucker punched and then pushed into the freakin’ Grand Canyon.

So, what do you do when you find yourself at the bottom of a canyon? You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start climbing back out, one step at a time.

Trump has the power to push the button that could change the world as we know it. My life could disappear in a blink of an eye. Knowing this, I’m not going to be complacent. I’m going after my dream like never before. Like climbing out of a canyon, I’m going after it with renewed focus and commitment, one step at a time.

Third, I’m going to help people I want to help.

Service has always been a part of my life. But this is the first year in more than two decades that I haven’t been involved in some form of service on a daily or regular basis. In order to learn the ins and outs of being a writer, I had to focus, let go of other commitments, learn new habits, and immerse myself into the storytelling realm. That left no time for service.

With Trump becoming President in January, the new year seems like the right time to start helping the people I’ve been wanting to help for a long time–people that most people don’t want to help, but instead want to forget. 2017 is almost here. Time to embark.

Lastly, I’m learning radical acceptance.

Acceptance doesn’t mean that I like or support the thing I’m accepting. Acceptance means that I see that thing for what it is. I’m not trying to ignore it or pretend it’s something it isn’t.

I know that there’s many good people in my country, and at the same time, I accept that there’s many people who would throw me under the bus (some already have) if it serves them, or even if it doesn’t. I accept this. I also accept that many people are a mix of good and bad.

Through radical acceptance, I am trying to fuse the two sides of my self that have been arguing. No more sides. I want to be one.

In the end, it’s hard for me to have hope for my country with Trump at the helm. Fact is, I don’t have hope in him. But I do have hope in myself.

As a wise person once told me, “You can’t change other people, you can only change yourself. But by changing yourself, the whole system changes.”

That’s what next for me.

The truth is here.

Time to step up and meet it.

Peg Cheng is the author of The Contenders, a middle-grade novel centered on the question, can enemies become friends? She is currently writing another novel that is a re-imagining of the Snow White fairy tale set in 1980s Seattle. Peg also believes in equality for all people and continues to fight the good fight.

American Flag by Harris.news.

By

Guilt, Surrender & Rest

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I finished the first draft of SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN in mid-October. Then, I took the next two weeks off to catch up on reading.

But I didn’t. Every time I sat down to read something I’d been wanting to read, I couldn’t do it. After nine months of writing, I just couldn’t look at words anymore.

So, I took two weeks to relax, take walks, see movies, watch TV shows, meet up with friends, practice qigong, and generally, just rest. It was wonderful.

Now, it’s November. I signed up for  NaNoWriMo and was excited to start working on my next novel, the sequel to The Contenders. I’ve taken notes on the story’s armature, and drafted the one-sentence summary and back cover summary. But in a span of a week, I’ve only worked on the story for two days. Now, my motivation is all squishy. All I want to do is wrap myself up in a blanket and read. My eyes want to devour words again, but now I can’t.

Because now I feel bad.

Like Billy Crystal’s character says in the movie, Throw Momma From the Train, “Writers write.”

Except when we’re not writing.

Then we feel bad.

And guilty.

But why?

Even when we’re not actually writing words of a novel, we’re still planning and plotting and musing over our stories in our heads.

That percolation time is crucial. I know that without it, I couldn’t have written anything of substance. I certainly couldn’t have written my first novel or my second novel. I need time to think about my story, dream about my characters, listen to music that makes me think of my characters and my story, take long walks while I think about my story, and take notes here and there about what I discover.

But I keep thinking I should be writing.

I should not be reading and musing and dreaming and thinking and marinating.

And the more I think this way, the more I don’t want to write or work on anything.

Guilt does not help the creative process.

I’ve read that the best thing you can do after writing a draft is to put it aside and then start working on a new novel. Don’t look at your completed draft–you need time away from it to give you perspective. That makes total sense to me and it’s worked for me in the past. Time away from my completed draft has definitely helped me to see it with fresh eyes when I was ready to rewrite and revise.

But the advice about starting on another novel right away, that’s the part that’s not gelling with me. It sounds good. And I thought I’d be able to do it since I’ve been thinking about the sequel to The Contenders for years now, but, it’s not working out that way.

I’m still finding my way to the creative process that works best for me. I do know that when a story builds up, up, and up in me, I reach a critical point where I have to sit down and write. I try to get as many notes about it down on paper, but eventually, the whole thing builds up so much in my psyche that I have to let it out.

But in the meantime, it seems to help to read and muse and dream and think and marinate. It seems to be my process. I’m not just being lazy. Or being a procrastinator.

I’m realizing that this in-between time after I’ve finished one novel draft and haven’t started the next one is an important time of rest and renewal. I know deep down that this resting time will eventually lead to more innovation and creativity in the future. I thought it would only take me two weeks to rest, but now I realize that I need more time.

Wow. It feels good to write that down!

It feels good to say what I’m truly feeling in my heart as truth, rather than berating myself for not living up to some ideal of what a writer is supposed to be.

Instead of plying myself with reason and logic, I’m going to surrender to what feels right.

Rest feels right. Right now.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

Peg Cheng is the author of The Contenders, a middle-grade novel centered on the question, can enemies become friends? She is currently writing another novel that is a re-imagining of the Snow White fairy tale set in 1980s Seattle.

 

By

T is for Tenacity or Talent?

tenacity-not-talent

Some people think I’m a writer because I have talent.

It’s nice of them to think that.

But talent is not makes me a writer.

The thing that makes me a writer is tenacity.

What is tenacity?

“The quality or fact of being able to grip something firmly; grip.”

When a story has a grip on me, it won’t let go. And I won’t let it go either.

The idea for SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN came to me in 2005. I thought about it and took notes on it for 11 years. Finally, in 2016, I started writing the first draft, and after nine months, I finished it.

When you look at it that way, it wasn’t the writing that was the hardest part (even though it was hard!); it was holding onto the story all those years, believing in it, and doing something about it that was the hardest part. That’s tenacity, not talent.

“The quality or fact of being very determined; determination.”

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a determined person. But what they don’t know is how easy it is for me to give up. Case in point: even though I worked hard on my middle-grade novel, THE CONTENDERS, and my four beta readers loved it; when it didn’t get picked up by one of the fifteen agents that I queried, I gave up on it. I felt defeated. I didn’t want to query any more agents. I put my manuscript on a shelf and let it gather dust for four years.

It was only when my husband Marcus convinced me to take another look at it, and consider publishing it myself, that my old determination kicked in again.

I learned from this experience that being determined doesn’t mean you never give up. Sometimes you need to quit. Sometimes you need a break. Sometimes walking away from a project can help you realize how important (or not important) something is to you. People with talent often think things should come easy to them. But being willing to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start again after many years? That’s not talent, that’s tenacity.

“The quality or fact of continuing to exist; persistence.”

Over the past thirteen years, I’ve written two screenplays, five picture books, three prelaw books, two novels, and a smattering of poems. I’m still a novice. I’m still learning my craft every day.

But I realized something important this year.

I’m a writer because I continue to write. No matter where my life takes me, and what thorny paths I’ll need to traverse in order to survive, I’ll know inside that I’m a writer. By continuing to write, even if it’s just for five minutes a day, I’m a writer. I may have started writing because I had some talent, but it’s tenacity that keeps me writing.

So, next time someone tells me that I’m a writer because I have talent, I’ll smile and say, “Thank you.”

But inside, I’ll know the truth.

Peg Cheng is the author of The Contenders, a middle-grade novel centered on the question, can enemies become friends? She is currently writing another novel that is a re-imagining of the Snow White fairy tale set in 1980s Seattle.

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Lessons Learned From the First Draft of SEVEN DUDES

cheese_and_mice

This Monday, I finished the first draft of my suspense novel, SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN. I clocked in at a little over 51,000 words. Like a round of cheese being nibbled on by mice, my draft has some holes in it, but it’s still whole and finished.

As my friend Lewis likes to say, stick a fork in me, I’m done.

For now.

I’m taking a break from SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN for the rest of October and November. In November, I’m doing NaNoWriMo and writing the first draft of the sequel to The Contenders. Then, I’ll return to SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN in December and January.

But for now, I’m finished with my manuscript.

I’m taking a break for the rest of October to rest, read, watch movies and shows, see friends, walk, and clear my head.

I’m happy. Yes, I am. Very happy!

But mostly, I’m relieved.

Why?

Because there were so many days when I didn’t know if I could do it.

It took me nearly nine months to write this first draft. But prior to starting my draft, I’ve been rolling around the idea of SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN in my head, and taking notes on it, since 2005. That’s eleven years. So, to be truly accurate, it took me eleven years and nine months to write the first draft.

Crazy, I know.

Starting in February, I only wrote one chapter a week. Sometimes less.

It was incredibly disappointing.

Some days, I could only make myself write for thirty minutes.

Some days, I could not make myself write at all.

Why?

Fear.

Doubt.

Lack of habit.

I was transitioning from my business to being a full-time writer and everything felt new, strange, and just not right. As I’ve written in past posts, I thought it would feel so natural to write full time. It’s what I’ve been wanting to do for so long. But as with so many momentous transitions, it did not feel natural. Even a transition that I wanted so badly took me a good four months to get the hang of it.

Once I established a habit of writing five days a week, things started chugging along.

Sometimes, I’d fall off the horse and have to dust myself off and get back on again. Fear still hung out with me. But I didn’t let Fear drive anymore. It was relegated to the back seat.

But again, once writing became a five-day-a-week habit, things got better. That was key. I had to write every day like a habit. Like brushing my teeth–I had to do it or else it felt weird!

Habits WORK. During these last two months, I consistently wrote a chapter a day, five days a week.

My first draft ended up having 82 chapters. Many are short chapters, but still, 82 chapters is a lot of chapters. I realized that for SEVEN DUDES DOC AND THE SEVEN, it helped me to write shorter chapters to keep the suspense going for my reader and for myself.

I didn’t know this when I started out.

It’s true that with every book you write, you learn how to write a book.

This technique of many short chapters may not work for the next book. It likely won’t. That’s okay. I need to just go with it, and follow what the story wants to do. As my friend and teacher Brian McDonald says, “You are not the master of your story, but a slave to it.”

Peg Cheng is the author of The Contenders, a middle-grade novel centered on the question, can enemies become friends? She is currently writing another novel that is a re-imagining of the Snow White fairy tale set in 1980s Seattle.

By

Poetry Camp Changed Me

poetrycamp-bookA week ago, I attended the inaugural Poetry Camp at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington.

This one-day conference changed me.

But before I get into how and why it did, let me back up a bit.

I’ve been taking writing classes and attending literary workshops and conferences since 2003; so, for the last 13 years. Before every class or workshop or conference, I’ve been excited and a little anxious, sometimes very anxious. I used to wonder why, and after a bunch of years of going through this, I realized that I get nervous about things that I’m very scared of and/or very excited about.

I was looking forward to attending Poetry Camp but I wasn’t nervous because I hadn’t signed up for it in the first place.

Huh? I know. Let me explain.

My friend and critique partner Brenda Olson had asked me if I wanted to go to Poetry Camp something like six months ago. I said, no, since I hardly ever write poetry (even though I love it) and figured I needed to focus on writing my novel, not on going to another conference. But Brenda signed up, as well as our mutual friend and former classmate Amy.

Then, the week of Poetry Camp, Amy contacted me to see if I might want to go in her place. You see, Amy’s in a MFA program and she needed time to catch up with her studies–she didn’t have time to spend a whole day in Bellingham. I looked at the program online, saw that the amazing poet and children’s book author Janet Wong was one of the keynote speakers, and realized that I HAD TO GO.

The first sign that I was on the right path was seeing this hand-painted cat bus right outside the Air BnB Brenda and I were staying at the day before the conference.

poetrycamp-catbusThe second sign I was on the right path was attending Robin Hood Black‘s Found Poem Workshop at Village Books the night before the conference, and having the most fun I’ve had with a group of strangers in a long time. At one point, I took a breath, looked around, and realized I was completely surrounded by poets and authors all cutting, pasting, stamping, talking, and laughing. It was heaven.

Here’s a pic of the found poetry art we created.

poetrycamp-foundpoetry

That night, Brenda and I met two poets at our table: Greg Pincus and Bob Raczka. They cracked us up! They were so funny bantering with each other that we thought they were old friends. Turns out, they had exchanged some emails in the past but had only met that day for the first time. These two and their camaraderie were an indication of what was to come the next day.

poetrycamp-brenda-bobHere’s Brenda and Bob with his funny and whimsical book, Guyku: A Year of Haiku for Boys.

poetrycamp-gregHere’s me, Greg, and Brenda, with Greg’s debut novel, The 14 Fibs of Gregory K, a great book for kids who struggle with math.

So, that’s two great signs already that I was on the right path, but it wasn’t all unicorns and roses.

That night, even though I went to bed early, I could not sleep. I had racing thoughts. I felt jittery due to the antibiotics I was taking for a chronic gut issue. My stomach was bloated and gurgling for hours. I was in a strange room in a strange (but cute) little house. I was lying next to Brenda instead of my husband Marcus. I love Brenda, but still, it felt weird trying to sleep next to someone I’m not used to sleeping next to. In the end, I got zero sleep.

Zero.

The next morning, my stomach was still bloated and messed up and I felt like a walking zombie. You’re thinking, just drink some coffee! I can’t. I know it’s abnormal and practically unorthodox to be a writer who doesn’t drink coffee, but I’m one of those strange birds. Drinking caffeine makes me a quivering mess. And I was already messed up enough.

So, we went off to Poetry Camp and I tried to stay awake.

poetrycampMost of Poetry Camp took place in WWU’s Wilson Library Reading Room, also known as the Harry Potter Room because of its “expansive magical qualities.”

But it wasn’t the space that made the conference magical.

What made it magical was the people.

You see, after attending all kinds of literary events for the past 13 years, I’ve never been to one where every single person I encountered smiled at me and said, “Hi.”

Do you know how it feels to be acknowledged, seen, and welcomed by everyone you meet?

If you don’t know how this feels because you’re used to it, let me tell you my experience.

At past writing events and conferences I’ve been to, 9 times out of 10, and often 10 times out of 10, I’m the one that says, “Hi,” and I’m the one that introduces herself and asks the other person what’s their name and what brings them here. Most writing events I’ve been to, including all the ones for children’s book authors, have felt cold-ish, clique-y, and somewhat elitist. Even when the content is good, and I learn some great tips from the instructors, people in general seem more intent on talking to people they already know than talking to someone new.

Often when I go to a writing class, workshop, or conference, I might know one, perhaps two people there. Sometimes, I don’t know anyone. But I still try to make an effort to get to know people.

But so many times, I feel like the only one.

The only person of color in the room.

The only woman of color in the room.

And one of the only people trying to be open and friendly.

I’ll talk to friends who go to the same workshop or conference and they don’t feel this way. They feel welcomed, acknowledged, and encouraged. Sometimes, I’ll notice this dichotomy happening right in front of me. Someone will sit down and introduce themselves to my friend or colleague sitting right next to me, but they won’t extend their hand to me.

It’s disconcerting.

It’s frustrating.

It hurts.

I’m not going to get into my theories behind why this happens. Believe me, I have my theories. But I’m not going to get into it right now. I just want to tell you how it feels and how it’s felt for many years.

But I didn’t feel that way at Poetry Camp.

I felt welcomed.

I felt acknowledged.

I felt seen.

Was it because so many people there were poets?

Was it because so many people there loved poetry?

I don’t know.

I just know that it happened.

I felt it.

I’ll never forget it.

It changed me. For the better.

poetrycamp-nancyThanks to the wondrous masterminds and Camp Directors Nancy Johnson and Sylvia Tag for coordinating this wonderful conference. Here’s Nancy with her cute blue “Camp Director” bandana. Sorry, I don’t have a pic of you, Sylvia. Next year!

poetrycamp-slyvia-ireneThanks to keynote speaker, poet, professor, and publisher Sylvia Vardell (love your Share Poetry! dress) for leading us through the day with Janet Wong, and to instructor, poet, and author Irene Latham for being so friendly and open (you were one of the first people Brenda and I talked to at camp and you just blew us away!).

poetrycamp-me-janetThanks to keynote speaker, poet, author, and publisher Janet Wong for making the day extra special for me. You are a pioneer and trailblazer for the Asian American creative community. I admire you and I love your poetry. Also, you called me out in one of the workshops and I’ll never forget it.

Thanks to all the poets, teachers, librarians, and writers I met that made Poetry Camp such a joyful and life-affirming experience–Kathi Appelt, Joan Bransfield Graham, and so many others–there’s too many of you to name but I remember your faces and I remember how you made me feel.

maya-angelou-feel

Thanks to Mattie for the wonderful dinner the night before and for driving us to the Found Poetry workshop.

Thanks to Brenda for driving me to Poetry Camp, letting me crash at your Air BnB, and being such an awesome friend and writing comrade.

Last but not least, HUGE thanks to Amy Poffenbarger for giving me her spot at the conference. You never know how saying NO to one thing will become a life-changing YES for someone else. Thank you, Amy.

ps. By the way, in case you’re wondering, once I got into the flow of Poetry Camp, my stomach settled down, my shoulders relaxed, I got my second wind, and my energy was sustained for the rest of the day. That’s what poetry will do for you.

Peg Cheng is the author of The Contenders, a middle-grade novel centered on the question, can enemies become friends? She is currently writing another novel that is a re-imagining of the Snow White fairy tale set in 1980s Seattle.

All photos by me except the Poetry Camp booklet, the found poetry art, and the one of me and Janet Wong are by Brenda Olson.