I've been MIA again but I have excuses.
(1) Daughter home for a week or so
(2) Son home for Memorial Day
(3) Meeting a deadline--today--
I'm taking a quick break from working on a new short story, tentatively called "Oh, Hell." I had a successful morning so I'm treating myself to emails and blogs. But this has to be short.
What I wanted to address was the need for patience. I am not a patient person. Never have been. And when in the past (a rolling, long-ago past) I couldn't master something immediately, I assumed I had no talent and no skills and I gave up.
No talent. No skills.
These are two distinct attributes. Having talent is terrific and it certainly makes following your passion rewarding, but talent is only half the formula.
Having skill is absolutely necessary (watch American Idol if you don't believe me). But getting these skills isn't an immediate process. And if you're talking about becoming an expert at anything, you're talking YEARS of practice. That's where patience comes in.
I think it was Robert McKee (the writing coach whose book STORY is an excellent resource) who said that all we can do is to "take out our little bit of talent," push it around every day, apply our hard-earned skills and hopefully, that will result in something worthwhile. I'm sure I don't have that quote right, but you get the gist. It takes both talent and skill to become good at anything and skill takes patience.
I realized this this morning. I have to mail my story to the powers that be and last night when I went to bed I was miserable. Things at the end of my story were not working out. The whole thing felt stupid and, heaven forbid, CORNY. In the old days, I would have felt doomed. I would have thought of quitting. I would believe to the depths of my being that my writing sucked. And I sucked.
But this morning, I remembered I have developed a skill set to help me solve the problems in my story. Hmmmm. Imagine that!
I read about two or three pages in the middle, did a little editing, and suddenly I knew how to solve the story problem at the end. My mind was asking questions that only an "expert" would know to ask.
I moved away from the computer and started to scribble notes of what exactly had to happen for the whole story to make sense. I was so shocked at how easy it was, I started doubting it would work. But I typing the notes, I sure it does work. And it isn't corny. Maybe a little corny, but I still have time to fix that. Wow, it's working!!!
I'm not saying here that what I do is brilliant or even interesting to anyone else. But it is to me. To see that I will allow myself to make mistakes, to go on tangents, to think I suck, and then get back to work. To take out my "little bit of talent" and my years of practice, and actually be able to have answers, know what comes next, delight myself with a surprising ending, that for me, is success. And when I discover the NEXT problem, I will have skills to solve that too.
This idea of having patience--and I suppose, FAITH IN THE WRITING PROCESS--is a gift to me. A gift I've given myself over the years by focusing on learning the skills I need to do what I want, and letting my little bit of talent take care of itself.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Idol Thoughts
I have a few things to say about American Idol before the season gets filed in the TV archives. Many people have told me and I have often read on-line that this has been "the most boring season yet. Worst year ever. No talent. AI is done. The phenomena is over. It's going downhill."
Wait! Worst year ever? NO TALENT?
Can you say Melinda, Lakisha, Jordin, Blake, Gina, Chris, even Phil if he'd kept a stetson on his balding* head and truly channeled Garth? Excuse me, but when did a lot of talent turn into NO TALENT? You see, this is the problem. We hard-core Idol fans are desensitized. We're experts now, so the slightest break in a warble becomes a reason to dismiss someone as a hack, has-been, get rid of 'em no talent. We want the BEST? And we got it. Think about it. Would any of the superstar guests actually get into the top twelve today? Which ones? Akon? Gwen? Barry? uh-hem.
Of course, getting rid of the contestants is the whole point and so the unpredictability of both the performances and the results is the hook, and it works. It worked this year too.
"Idol's going down hill?" I get cranky when people start making sweeping statements based on a 10% dip in a couple of shows. Let's face it, part of the dip is do to some valiant efforts of competing networks, and the age of AI itself. There will be attrition. There always is. So what's the problem this year?
2007 may have produced the most talent ever. And this talent weeded out most of those who might have brought controversy to the show. There were so many strong, interesting voices and personalities--especially among the ladies--that there was no room of those who might develop as the season went on. We even had to lose two fabulous competitors in Stephanie Edwards and Sabrina Sloan.
The only weak link in the beginning appeared to be the men and they were more diverse than the women. However, the men failed to step up and it was only the numbers quotas (12 guys, 12 girls and later 6 guys, 6 girls) that kept some of them on the stage. The final twelve all gave at least one good performance (I would argue this is not true for Sanjaya, but there are those including the judges who thought he acquitted himself well on Latin night).
And the Top 12 bonded. They didn't even seem to resent the fact that Sanjaya stole the stage from more worthy candidates. The biggest factor to the "It's boring" comment is that every one of the final 12 idols seemed to be genuinely friendly, passionate, caring, non-controversial, unrebellious, and well, NICE. Anyone will tell you, "nice" is boring. The only two who provided any attitude were Sanjaya and Lakisha. SANJAYA! How can a show have Sanjaya in it and be boring? And Lakisha, her 'tude was subtle and wouldn't even have shown if the rest of them weren't wearing those toothy grins.
But what most people fail to talk about is the good that American Idol does. Why it ultimately succeeds every season. Idol creates uncommon common ground. While it's always different each season, the basic elements of the show bring people together, exposing them to a wider variety of music and talent than any other program before. While the demographic may be younger (I have no idea about the stats), the audience overall is composed of people of all ages, colors, tastes.
My daughter still can't get over the fact that Chris Daughtry lost. I still miss George Huff. This year my mother-in-law loves Melinda, can't understand a word of Blake's music (it all sounds alike), and claims a great injustice has been done. But, every Friday at lunch, we engage in a lively conversation about music, people who strive, digging deep to keep one's determination, living through disappointment. All because of Idol. This is bad? This is boring? A show that brings together generations to discuss life lessons such as what it takes to do the best you can, to be critiqued and live through it, to be dumped from the show and end up on the charts for, what, over 20 weeks?
No. The premise and the people aren't boring, but the audience demands lively entertainment and the show is often crass, over dramatic, stagy, and manipulative. And that CAN get boring. It's up to the producers to respond by listening to the fans and to continually refine the format.
Who will win? Bottom line: it doesn't matter. What IS really important , as in real life, is the journey and where it takes you.
*I mean no offense to bald people. There's good bald (Chris Daughtry, Michael Stipe, Ben Kingsley, Bruce Willis, Telly Savalas) and bad bald (Donald Trump, Britney Spears). Sorry Phil. Take a hint from Kenny. He is NEVER without a hat.
Wait! Worst year ever? NO TALENT?
Can you say Melinda, Lakisha, Jordin, Blake, Gina, Chris, even Phil if he'd kept a stetson on his balding* head and truly channeled Garth? Excuse me, but when did a lot of talent turn into NO TALENT? You see, this is the problem. We hard-core Idol fans are desensitized. We're experts now, so the slightest break in a warble becomes a reason to dismiss someone as a hack, has-been, get rid of 'em no talent. We want the BEST? And we got it. Think about it. Would any of the superstar guests actually get into the top twelve today? Which ones? Akon? Gwen? Barry? uh-hem.
Of course, getting rid of the contestants is the whole point and so the unpredictability of both the performances and the results is the hook, and it works. It worked this year too.
"Idol's going down hill?" I get cranky when people start making sweeping statements based on a 10% dip in a couple of shows. Let's face it, part of the dip is do to some valiant efforts of competing networks, and the age of AI itself. There will be attrition. There always is. So what's the problem this year?
2007 may have produced the most talent ever. And this talent weeded out most of those who might have brought controversy to the show. There were so many strong, interesting voices and personalities--especially among the ladies--that there was no room of those who might develop as the season went on. We even had to lose two fabulous competitors in Stephanie Edwards and Sabrina Sloan.
The only weak link in the beginning appeared to be the men and they were more diverse than the women. However, the men failed to step up and it was only the numbers quotas (12 guys, 12 girls and later 6 guys, 6 girls) that kept some of them on the stage. The final twelve all gave at least one good performance (I would argue this is not true for Sanjaya, but there are those including the judges who thought he acquitted himself well on Latin night).
And the Top 12 bonded. They didn't even seem to resent the fact that Sanjaya stole the stage from more worthy candidates. The biggest factor to the "It's boring" comment is that every one of the final 12 idols seemed to be genuinely friendly, passionate, caring, non-controversial, unrebellious, and well, NICE. Anyone will tell you, "nice" is boring. The only two who provided any attitude were Sanjaya and Lakisha. SANJAYA! How can a show have Sanjaya in it and be boring? And Lakisha, her 'tude was subtle and wouldn't even have shown if the rest of them weren't wearing those toothy grins.
But what most people fail to talk about is the good that American Idol does. Why it ultimately succeeds every season. Idol creates uncommon common ground. While it's always different each season, the basic elements of the show bring people together, exposing them to a wider variety of music and talent than any other program before. While the demographic may be younger (I have no idea about the stats), the audience overall is composed of people of all ages, colors, tastes.
My daughter still can't get over the fact that Chris Daughtry lost. I still miss George Huff. This year my mother-in-law loves Melinda, can't understand a word of Blake's music (it all sounds alike), and claims a great injustice has been done. But, every Friday at lunch, we engage in a lively conversation about music, people who strive, digging deep to keep one's determination, living through disappointment. All because of Idol. This is bad? This is boring? A show that brings together generations to discuss life lessons such as what it takes to do the best you can, to be critiqued and live through it, to be dumped from the show and end up on the charts for, what, over 20 weeks?
No. The premise and the people aren't boring, but the audience demands lively entertainment and the show is often crass, over dramatic, stagy, and manipulative. And that CAN get boring. It's up to the producers to respond by listening to the fans and to continually refine the format.
Who will win? Bottom line: it doesn't matter. What IS really important , as in real life, is the journey and where it takes you.
*I mean no offense to bald people. There's good bald (Chris Daughtry, Michael Stipe, Ben Kingsley, Bruce Willis, Telly Savalas) and bad bald (Donald Trump, Britney Spears). Sorry Phil. Take a hint from Kenny. He is NEVER without a hat.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Savoring the Unexpected
Yesterday I ran errands until after six, coming home hot, ragged, annoyed because the library has misplaced three tapes I know I turned in. The new gate didn't work right. The dog was barking. The trash in the kitchen smelled. I dropped my purse on the floor, grabbed the plastic garbage liner, and took it outside to the curb. Back on the porch, I noticed among the scattered mags and ads, a familiar white envelope. Manuscript size. Addressed to me by me.
In my world this spells R-E-J-E-C-T-I-O-N. I let go an expletive and scooped up the envelope. Must be "One Question," a flash piece, I thought, because it's so light.
I tore it open. A minute of true confusion. A check? Who would paper-clip a check on a rejection?
Waitaminute.
"Dear Gay Degani,
Your manuscript "Hawaiian Hair" has been accepted..."
Omigod.
Yep. As Annie Potts yells in Ghostbusters, her voice echoing through the empty fire station the boys spent their last dimes renting ("Three mortgages? Everyone has three mortgages these days") : WE GOT ONE!!!
So. "Hawaiian Hair" will be in the fall 2007 issue of THEMA, Written in Stone.
If you are interested in purchasing a copy of the current issue, THEMA, Rage Over a Penny, shown above, or the Written in Stone issue in the fall, follow this link to the THEMA website.
Or if you would like to subscribe to THEMA, here is that information.
Subscription price: $20 per year for three issues ($30/year outside the US)
Single issue, back issue (see below), and sample copy price: $10 per copy ($15 outside the US).
Postage and handling: 1-3 copies, free; 4-8 copies, add $5; 9-15, add $8; more than 15, C.O.D.
Make check payable to THEMA Literary Society and mail to: THEMA, Box 8747, Metairie, LA 70011-8747
Monday, May 14, 2007
Mom's Day Mambo
Nice weekend for mothers. I'm a mother and I got my turn too. And I will avoid making the obvious comments such as Mother's Day is a Hallmark holiday. Which it is.
What worked for me yesterday was 1) a nap in the middle of the day. A nap not stolen when no one was around but a BALD-FACED nap that everyone knew about. 2) My husband did the driveway shuffle with my car AND went to the grocery to buy salad-fixins for Mother's Day dinner at his mother's. 3) My daughter put away the dishes from the dishwasher and came up early with us to the mother-in-law's. 4) Wonderful Mother's Day cards. 5) Beading with my daughter and mother-in-law. 6) A giant bouquet of flowers. 7) NO HASSLES and NO THINKING on my part!!! Wow. That ain't bad. Maybe even perfecto!!!
What worked for me yesterday was 1) a nap in the middle of the day. A nap not stolen when no one was around but a BALD-FACED nap that everyone knew about. 2) My husband did the driveway shuffle with my car AND went to the grocery to buy salad-fixins for Mother's Day dinner at his mother's. 3) My daughter put away the dishes from the dishwasher and came up early with us to the mother-in-law's. 4) Wonderful Mother's Day cards. 5) Beading with my daughter and mother-in-law. 6) A giant bouquet of flowers. 7) NO HASSLES and NO THINKING on my part!!! Wow. That ain't bad. Maybe even perfecto!!!
Friday, May 11, 2007
Time
Not much time today. It's Friday and as always I have things to do on Fridays. However a sense of routine is a good thing. At least for me. When I'm free-floating out there in the real world, I tend to waste time and I'm running out of that commodity.
I'm so torn between not wasting time and doing what I'm in the mood to do. The arguments on both sides of the issue are seductive. I'm older. I don't have forty years ahead of me to hone skills, make mistakes, do what I was put here on earth to do. I don't have thirty. I may, if I'm lucky, have twenty. And maybe not twenty COHERENT years. I can already feel the hot breath of forgetfulness steaming up the hairs on the back of my neck.
But if I only have twenty years, why not indulge myself? Do what I want? Haven't I earned the right to live life exactly how I choose? If I need or WANT a nap, what's wrong with stripping down in the middle of the day and crawling between cool sheets? If I want to wander through an antique mall for hours even though I can't put one more leg of furniture in my house, what's the harm?
None really. But I can't shake the feeling that what I do with my time should be of some use to someone other than myself. And if I want to "change the world" writing probably falls into the self-indulgent category, so where does that leave me?
Indecisive. Fearful of wasting time while defiantly wanting to waste time. In other words, a mess.
I'm so torn between not wasting time and doing what I'm in the mood to do. The arguments on both sides of the issue are seductive. I'm older. I don't have forty years ahead of me to hone skills, make mistakes, do what I was put here on earth to do. I don't have thirty. I may, if I'm lucky, have twenty. And maybe not twenty COHERENT years. I can already feel the hot breath of forgetfulness steaming up the hairs on the back of my neck.
But if I only have twenty years, why not indulge myself? Do what I want? Haven't I earned the right to live life exactly how I choose? If I need or WANT a nap, what's wrong with stripping down in the middle of the day and crawling between cool sheets? If I want to wander through an antique mall for hours even though I can't put one more leg of furniture in my house, what's the harm?
None really. But I can't shake the feeling that what I do with my time should be of some use to someone other than myself. And if I want to "change the world" writing probably falls into the self-indulgent category, so where does that leave me?
Indecisive. Fearful of wasting time while defiantly wanting to waste time. In other words, a mess.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Cheering from the Peanut Gallery
Since Tim is travelling, Hillary and I watched "American's Next Top Model" and the results from "American Idol" without so much as one male eye roll.
Actually, I want to address this "male eye roll" thing.
Men in general, the average man on the street, has been reluctant to embrace Idol (also "America's Next Top Model" and "Project Runway," the class shows of their ilk) as anything but an obligation to keep the little woman sitting next to him on the couch. Can you imagine a bunch of bruisers crowded around the TV set with beer and pizza, yelling "Atta girl, LaKisha!" with no estrogen around?
Most men think "American Idol" is a fad, and a cheesy fad at that--it IS cheesy much of the time--but hold on. What's the difference between spending two hours watching grass grow at a Dodger game and spending two hours watching Paula clap her hands together like a little kid?
Both are competitions. People who want to win do their best to beat out other people who want to win.
Both have created job opportunities for unknown talents and for people who aren't "the talent."
Both can be classified as "reality TV"--whatever that means. We get to watch semi-amateurs and paid professionals vie to stay in the game as long as they can and set up opportunities (contracts, endorsements, trips to Japan) for more glorious futures.
Both draw audiences from all walks of life, all ages, with all kinds of music tastes, though most have never heard of emo, trance, techno, techno-emo, underground emo, Crunk, etc.
Both competitions are seen in person or on TV.
Both are watched live or taped. It's still the director who chooses what we see.
Both create a "culture" including adjunct TV shows, media events, and bigger competitions.
Both are "topics of conversations" whenever we run into people we don't have much to say to.
Both feature people who can hit it out of the park and thrill us.
Both are loved because of the unpredictability of the competition.
Both are loved because of the drama of the competition.
Both give us "heroes" and make us fans.
Both give us flawed human beings who annoy and disappoint us.
Both feature people we wonder "How the hell did this person get this far?" At least on "American Idol," Sanjaya wasn't paid a million dollars for every missed lay-up.
Both contain life lessons about perserverence, passion, self-confidence, as well as disappointment, manipulation, and self-doubt.
Both are metaphors for life.
And both gave us its own version of Paula Abdul: Laker girl and "American Idol" judge. Now isn't that a life lesson in itself?
Okay okay now EVERYONE is rolling their eyes.
Actually, I want to address this "male eye roll" thing.
Men in general, the average man on the street, has been reluctant to embrace Idol (also "America's Next Top Model" and "Project Runway," the class shows of their ilk) as anything but an obligation to keep the little woman sitting next to him on the couch. Can you imagine a bunch of bruisers crowded around the TV set with beer and pizza, yelling "Atta girl, LaKisha!" with no estrogen around?
Most men think "American Idol" is a fad, and a cheesy fad at that--it IS cheesy much of the time--but hold on. What's the difference between spending two hours watching grass grow at a Dodger game and spending two hours watching Paula clap her hands together like a little kid?
Both are competitions. People who want to win do their best to beat out other people who want to win.
Both have created job opportunities for unknown talents and for people who aren't "the talent."
Both can be classified as "reality TV"--whatever that means. We get to watch semi-amateurs and paid professionals vie to stay in the game as long as they can and set up opportunities (contracts, endorsements, trips to Japan) for more glorious futures.
Both draw audiences from all walks of life, all ages, with all kinds of music tastes, though most have never heard of emo, trance, techno, techno-emo, underground emo, Crunk, etc.
Both competitions are seen in person or on TV.
Both are watched live or taped. It's still the director who chooses what we see.
Both create a "culture" including adjunct TV shows, media events, and bigger competitions.
Both are "topics of conversations" whenever we run into people we don't have much to say to.
Both feature people who can hit it out of the park and thrill us.
Both are loved because of the unpredictability of the competition.
Both are loved because of the drama of the competition.
Both give us "heroes" and make us fans.
Both give us flawed human beings who annoy and disappoint us.
Both feature people we wonder "How the hell did this person get this far?" At least on "American Idol," Sanjaya wasn't paid a million dollars for every missed lay-up.
Both contain life lessons about perserverence, passion, self-confidence, as well as disappointment, manipulation, and self-doubt.
Both are metaphors for life.
And both gave us its own version of Paula Abdul: Laker girl and "American Idol" judge. Now isn't that a life lesson in itself?
Okay okay now EVERYONE is rolling their eyes.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
American IDOL Final FOUR
I love American Idol, but haven't written about it in this space before. (Hmmm...maybe once a while back). Usually I unspool my jewels on the Iowa board, but since I'm committed to doing a better job on this blog, I'm stealing from myself.
Despite the scorning of disco music for 30 years, the BeeGee oeurve sounds current. After all, the Bee Gees were the first boy band. (Even I won't call the BEATLES a "boy band").
Barry Gibb. What was up with those teeth? Why can't the English--who've conquered the world a couple of times--get basic skills of orthodontia and enamel RIGHT? BUT. I'm a BEE GEE fan from way back. Love him. B.G.'s gone through a lot and looks it, but wow, he's the real deal. And a good mentor from what I could decipher. (Teeth).
Melinda-The consummate professional, and since I don't really know how a "back-up singer" would approach a particular song, Simon was all wet about her first "joint." (Randy-speak) She did what she said she wanted to do which was to make a solo out of a group song. And it sounded excellent proving this woman can do anything. The second song totally ROCKED. I be downloadin' today.
Blake-While I thought his first number was good, it felt a little too trance-y to me. I know young kids might like it, but I missed the original beats. Seemed like the arrangement was missing a bass line? (I don't have a clue what that means, but that's what it FELT like. Blame the judges for teaching me lingo without clear definitions. Pitchy? Lower register? See what I mean?). Blake's second "joint" was terrific. Worthy of a first single release from his album.
Lakisha-I won't even bother. Anyone else hear that sucking sound?
Jordin-Wow and double WOW. I liked both her songs, but especially the first which was perfect-o. And I loved the second one too. Maybe she isn't quite Babs, but who is? By the way, the Babs/Barry "Guilty" album is worth downloading. Anyway Jordin's either got me mesmerized or the judges are looney-toons about the second song not working. Oh, wait. Two of them are!!!
Despite the scorning of disco music for 30 years, the BeeGee oeurve sounds current. After all, the Bee Gees were the first boy band. (Even I won't call the BEATLES a "boy band").
Barry Gibb. What was up with those teeth? Why can't the English--who've conquered the world a couple of times--get basic skills of orthodontia and enamel RIGHT? BUT. I'm a BEE GEE fan from way back. Love him. B.G.'s gone through a lot and looks it, but wow, he's the real deal. And a good mentor from what I could decipher. (Teeth).
Melinda-The consummate professional, and since I don't really know how a "back-up singer" would approach a particular song, Simon was all wet about her first "joint." (Randy-speak) She did what she said she wanted to do which was to make a solo out of a group song. And it sounded excellent proving this woman can do anything. The second song totally ROCKED. I be downloadin' today.
Blake-While I thought his first number was good, it felt a little too trance-y to me. I know young kids might like it, but I missed the original beats. Seemed like the arrangement was missing a bass line? (I don't have a clue what that means, but that's what it FELT like. Blame the judges for teaching me lingo without clear definitions. Pitchy? Lower register? See what I mean?). Blake's second "joint" was terrific. Worthy of a first single release from his album.
Lakisha-I won't even bother. Anyone else hear that sucking sound?
Jordin-Wow and double WOW. I liked both her songs, but especially the first which was perfect-o. And I loved the second one too. Maybe she isn't quite Babs, but who is? By the way, the Babs/Barry "Guilty" album is worth downloading. Anyway Jordin's either got me mesmerized or the judges are looney-toons about the second song not working. Oh, wait. Two of them are!!!
Monday, May 07, 2007
Row, Row, Row my boat...
You've heard of continental drift, I'm sure. How as the earth formed and reshaped itself, the continents moved closer together, then farther apart, back again? Still do? Not a scientifically accurate explanation*, but that's not the point. The point is WE drift too.
It is the rare human being (writer) who doesn't suddenly find herself in a different landscape far from the one where she wanted to be. Sometimes the new island, mountain top, whatever, is pretty damn pleasant and for a moment, when she realizes where she is, she thinks maybe she'll stay.
After all, the place she used to be is a bare speck on the horizon. From where she sits now, that speck seems rugged and untamed, jungle-like, and a good rowing distance away. A hard row. And she's never learned to sail, can't crank an outboard. For her it's strong arms, back, and legs all pulling together or nothing. And that's soooo much work. Easier to stay put in this new place...
But no. Can't do that. Gotta get out the row boat, patch the leaks, and get rowing. And next time when playing in the vast sea becomes a temptation, she's gotta point the prow straight back to the jungle, and pull it up into the sand.
*I googled "continental drift": In 1915, the German geologist and meteorologist Alfred Wegener first proposed the theory of continental drift, which states that parts of the Earth's crust slowly drift atop a liquid core. The fossil record supports and gives credence to the theories of continental drift and plate tectonics.
It is the rare human being (writer) who doesn't suddenly find herself in a different landscape far from the one where she wanted to be. Sometimes the new island, mountain top, whatever, is pretty damn pleasant and for a moment, when she realizes where she is, she thinks maybe she'll stay.
After all, the place she used to be is a bare speck on the horizon. From where she sits now, that speck seems rugged and untamed, jungle-like, and a good rowing distance away. A hard row. And she's never learned to sail, can't crank an outboard. For her it's strong arms, back, and legs all pulling together or nothing. And that's soooo much work. Easier to stay put in this new place...
But no. Can't do that. Gotta get out the row boat, patch the leaks, and get rowing. And next time when playing in the vast sea becomes a temptation, she's gotta point the prow straight back to the jungle, and pull it up into the sand.
*I googled "continental drift": In 1915, the German geologist and meteorologist Alfred Wegener first proposed the theory of continental drift, which states that parts of the Earth's crust slowly drift atop a liquid core. The fossil record supports and gives credence to the theories of continental drift and plate tectonics.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Gone long enough to be forgotten
Yes, even the powers that be at Blogger forgot who I am. Either that or they've figured out a way to make me "join." So here I am, back, but with little time at present to say the things I'd like to say. Do I dare to commit to loyal perseverance AGAIN??? Why not?? Life is full of new beginnings. Thank goodness.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Blank Square
There is nothing I like better than to check my calendar and find there is NOTHING ON IT. One plain blank square! A day without an obligation to anyone else. Hooray!!! Of course the painter will still be here working on our remodeling project, but he's quiet, pleasant, and efficient so I've gotten used to him. And there is the DOG. In her great age--almost fourteen--she has learned how to manipulate me even better than the rest of my family so I will have to attend to our walk and her other doggy needs, but basically, THE DAY IS MINE.
I'm trying to build the momentum to finish revising my novel. I lost it completely this fall between the remodel, the onset of Christmas, and trying to market short stories. At least the last was writing related. I've sent out about 55 submissions and received about 28 rejections since last August. I expect an onslaught of rejections now that the holidays are over and the college lit students strive to meet their deadlines. I'm sure that my stories have been tossed into corners too. It happens. I sent out three stories in quantity and a couple additional ones to a contest or two. This brings me into a new realm of writing: actually sending out stuff I write. So that's a positive. Still, the novel has been shoved on the back burner, occasionally stirred and tasted, but few new ingredients added to the stew.
Now it's time to move it to the front. I've already started. I've rewritten or rather edited three chapters and have reread and reedited two of them. Once I do chapter three, I'm taking them off the stove and setting them in the window to cool. I will try very hard not to nibble on them until the whole dinner is cooked. What an analogy. Sorry about that but sometimes I can't help myself. Oh well. It's time to head out for the garage. I'm trying to stay accountable in this space to my writing and perhaps that will prove the nudge I need.
I'm trying to build the momentum to finish revising my novel. I lost it completely this fall between the remodel, the onset of Christmas, and trying to market short stories. At least the last was writing related. I've sent out about 55 submissions and received about 28 rejections since last August. I expect an onslaught of rejections now that the holidays are over and the college lit students strive to meet their deadlines. I'm sure that my stories have been tossed into corners too. It happens. I sent out three stories in quantity and a couple additional ones to a contest or two. This brings me into a new realm of writing: actually sending out stuff I write. So that's a positive. Still, the novel has been shoved on the back burner, occasionally stirred and tasted, but few new ingredients added to the stew.
Now it's time to move it to the front. I've already started. I've rewritten or rather edited three chapters and have reread and reedited two of them. Once I do chapter three, I'm taking them off the stove and setting them in the window to cool. I will try very hard not to nibble on them until the whole dinner is cooked. What an analogy. Sorry about that but sometimes I can't help myself. Oh well. It's time to head out for the garage. I'm trying to stay accountable in this space to my writing and perhaps that will prove the nudge I need.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Accountability, uh-oh!
Okay so I wrote my goals yesterday and it was exhilerating. However, I never did make it out to the garage! Is that crazy? By the time I got dressed and walked the dog and did all those things I need to do before I can actually go out, some one called and then it was 11:15 and the parade of workman were due to come from 12-4 and I can't be in the garage then. I made stew instead of writing, and I threw away all the fattening left overs.
While I waited for the repair men I did start a review of The March. I have a hair up my butt about it because the praise is so profuse and while I liked it, enjoyed reading it, it's no Tess of the D'urbevilles and I don't understand how I'll ever succeed when literary books feel shallow to me and yet they win prizes. I just don't get it.
I'm still working on the review to get the sarcasm out of it...or at least to justify the sarcasm and will post it on my blog sometime in the next couple of days. So I can't really say "I didn't write," but I can't really say I did.
Here's a clarification. General fooling around writing counts 1/4 of a point compared to fiction writing on either a short story or the novel.
That way I won't be saying I wrote a thank you note and using that as my "writing" for the day. That doesn't count this year!!!!
While I waited for the repair men I did start a review of The March. I have a hair up my butt about it because the praise is so profuse and while I liked it, enjoyed reading it, it's no Tess of the D'urbevilles and I don't understand how I'll ever succeed when literary books feel shallow to me and yet they win prizes. I just don't get it.
I'm still working on the review to get the sarcasm out of it...or at least to justify the sarcasm and will post it on my blog sometime in the next couple of days. So I can't really say "I didn't write," but I can't really say I did.
Here's a clarification. General fooling around writing counts 1/4 of a point compared to fiction writing on either a short story or the novel.
That way I won't be saying I wrote a thank you note and using that as my "writing" for the day. That doesn't count this year!!!!
Friday, January 05, 2007
Fresh Start
Okay so the end of 2006 fell in a hole. It's done, over, finito. Now for the NEW YEAR and a FRESH START.
January Goals
1. Write. I am a writer. My goal is to write every day, long and hard, and in a professional manner, so that I will actually finish my book and also develop and complete other writing projects.
I will think in terms of DAILY hours at the computer, not minutes, in order to complete my book as well as work on the thousand other writing projects I have.
2. Be accountable. I will report here every day even if my message is brief, even if all I write is "I didn't write." The reason? If I force myself to post about writing, then I will force myself to notice of the amount of time and effort I put into writing. If I don't write, then perhaps I will get tired of typing "I didn't write" and TAKE action.
3. Commit. Whether I write for five minutes or five hours,I will write EVERY SINGLE DAY. No missing. If I am pressed for time, then I will write with the egg timer set so that I know once I fulfill my commitment to write--even for 5 minutes--I can guiltlessly attend to "real life" business. No wasting time, feeling sorry for myself, wandering to the refrigerator to get a snack, doing a quick sudoku, taking the Spider Solitaire detour. I will get what I have to do in "real life" done, and get back to the writing.
4. Have fun. One of the reasons I write is because it's fun. It is PLAY despite the fact that I am serious about it. But I often forget to allow the "fun" to happen because I am either worried about who will tell me it sucks--voices in my head as I type--or I go straight to the point, how useless this all is because I'll never finish. I'm giving that up. Right now.
Actually. I think I have already given it up.
I have a right to write and to have fun. Give up the worry. Just do it. I often forget that nothing can be perfect the first time around, so I must insist when I get stuck to move on, change scenes, be creative about my approach.
5. Market. Continue on my quest to send out work. Use revising shorter stuff as a break from the novel but allow myself to use my hours to write and market rather than waste time with tv or computer games or visiting that big white appliance that lies in wait for me in the kitchen.
I did not achieve my goal of 100 rejections this past year. I will start fresh and send out again and again. I still have several prospects out in the market ether and perhaps one or two might yield something, but I will not focus on the result once the decision is out of my hands. What I will focus on is getting good stuff into into its best shape and continuing to put it out there. As I do this, hopefully I will learn what works and doesn't work, not just through the rejections, but through the experience of shaping and reworking my stuff.
6. Read. Read long hard and well. Think about what I'm reading, why it works or doesn't work for me. Read fiction and non-fiction. Explore areas of interest and non-interest because ya never know.
7. Explore. Explore long hard and well. Every experience will enrich my real life and my writing life. But don't let the exploring take over the writing. Writing first. Writing first.
January Goals
1. Write. I am a writer. My goal is to write every day, long and hard, and in a professional manner, so that I will actually finish my book and also develop and complete other writing projects.
I will think in terms of DAILY hours at the computer, not minutes, in order to complete my book as well as work on the thousand other writing projects I have.
2. Be accountable. I will report here every day even if my message is brief, even if all I write is "I didn't write." The reason? If I force myself to post about writing, then I will force myself to notice of the amount of time and effort I put into writing. If I don't write, then perhaps I will get tired of typing "I didn't write" and TAKE action.
3. Commit. Whether I write for five minutes or five hours,I will write EVERY SINGLE DAY. No missing. If I am pressed for time, then I will write with the egg timer set so that I know once I fulfill my commitment to write--even for 5 minutes--I can guiltlessly attend to "real life" business. No wasting time, feeling sorry for myself, wandering to the refrigerator to get a snack, doing a quick sudoku, taking the Spider Solitaire detour. I will get what I have to do in "real life" done, and get back to the writing.
4. Have fun. One of the reasons I write is because it's fun. It is PLAY despite the fact that I am serious about it. But I often forget to allow the "fun" to happen because I am either worried about who will tell me it sucks--voices in my head as I type--or I go straight to the point, how useless this all is because I'll never finish. I'm giving that up. Right now.
Actually. I think I have already given it up.
I have a right to write and to have fun. Give up the worry. Just do it. I often forget that nothing can be perfect the first time around, so I must insist when I get stuck to move on, change scenes, be creative about my approach.
5. Market. Continue on my quest to send out work. Use revising shorter stuff as a break from the novel but allow myself to use my hours to write and market rather than waste time with tv or computer games or visiting that big white appliance that lies in wait for me in the kitchen.
I did not achieve my goal of 100 rejections this past year. I will start fresh and send out again and again. I still have several prospects out in the market ether and perhaps one or two might yield something, but I will not focus on the result once the decision is out of my hands. What I will focus on is getting good stuff into into its best shape and continuing to put it out there. As I do this, hopefully I will learn what works and doesn't work, not just through the rejections, but through the experience of shaping and reworking my stuff.
6. Read. Read long hard and well. Think about what I'm reading, why it works or doesn't work for me. Read fiction and non-fiction. Explore areas of interest and non-interest because ya never know.
7. Explore. Explore long hard and well. Every experience will enrich my real life and my writing life. But don't let the exploring take over the writing. Writing first. Writing first.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Ten DAYS later
Okay I needed to get over it and I think I am...finally. I won't list all the petty little things that are broken, malfunctioning, or just plain problematic, over the last week or so, actually they still ARE, but it's time to let it go. The weather here has conspired to put me into a good mood, the scale has groaned to let me know it's time to take charge of my hand-to-mouth hyperactivity, and reading JCO's Will You Still Love Me has inspired me to get back to work.
I don't know where or why these funks penetrate my psyche but they do and the whole time I'm experiencing them one little high-pitched voice in my ear is yelling, "Stop, you idiot! Stop acting like a suicide-bomber!" while another voice, lower, less shrill, decidedly more seductive whispers, "It's okay, baby. Just let it happen. Whip up those pancakes. Take that nap. Who cares? No one cares unless it interferes with their agendas. You're on your own. Do whatever the hell you want."
Oh, that's scary. Maybe I shouldn't publish this. Kind of private. But I will because I want to continue going for the deep bone-scraping truth in my writing. Plus no one but my sister really reads this.
So I'm on the upswing for a while and since I recognize it as such, I must take advantage of it. I'm working on a schedule today, writing by the clock to insure I get things accomplished. I have been daunted by the task of the book. It's so unwieldy, those 379 pages slip-sliding out of my hands as I carry it around the house--to the living room to read through and make notes, five minutes later to the dining room table to lay it out and stand over it, still with the phone ringing, out to the garage where it's more private, then back upstairs to the computer with the internet, am I certain the bikini testing had happened yet?
So it goes. Today I'm staying in the garage, leaving for nothing short of an earthquake until I feel I'm am pulling up the glued edge at the corner of this story, have the task loosened up and can get a hold of it to rip.
I don't know where or why these funks penetrate my psyche but they do and the whole time I'm experiencing them one little high-pitched voice in my ear is yelling, "Stop, you idiot! Stop acting like a suicide-bomber!" while another voice, lower, less shrill, decidedly more seductive whispers, "It's okay, baby. Just let it happen. Whip up those pancakes. Take that nap. Who cares? No one cares unless it interferes with their agendas. You're on your own. Do whatever the hell you want."
Oh, that's scary. Maybe I shouldn't publish this. Kind of private. But I will because I want to continue going for the deep bone-scraping truth in my writing. Plus no one but my sister really reads this.
So I'm on the upswing for a while and since I recognize it as such, I must take advantage of it. I'm working on a schedule today, writing by the clock to insure I get things accomplished. I have been daunted by the task of the book. It's so unwieldy, those 379 pages slip-sliding out of my hands as I carry it around the house--to the living room to read through and make notes, five minutes later to the dining room table to lay it out and stand over it, still with the phone ringing, out to the garage where it's more private, then back upstairs to the computer with the internet, am I certain the bikini testing had happened yet?
So it goes. Today I'm staying in the garage, leaving for nothing short of an earthquake until I feel I'm am pulling up the glued edge at the corner of this story, have the task loosened up and can get a hold of it to rip.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
And of course there is depression...
I won't dwell on this, but I do want it on the record. The post-partum of Landmarked has settled in. While I'm pleased I managed to write another story last week all the way to the end, I am disappointed that I didn't use my time better and that what I ended up sending to the Writers Digest Pop Fiction contest won't be really considered. Strong opening, but it's very hard for me to write anything under 4000 words...even when I plan to write 4000 words. I made it: 3987, but the ending is so abrupt and so without finesse that it would be an embarrassment if I thought it was complete and done. My apologies to the judges at the WD.
However, if I remind myself of my original intent, I feel better. The intent was to write the story to the end and see what happens. And I did do that. I now know the ending. I know who the conflict comes from in the end. It just needs fleshing out and being this far now is a GOOD thing. Getting to an end, any end is really an accomplishment for me, because I am always putting it off. I love to spend time with the first part, the set-up, the build, but never seem to get to the end. A friend often tells me it's the process I love, not the product.
Am I afraid of endings? I guess so. I mean, I force myself to write stories the first time through to the end, always doing exactly what I did with this short story. But then I put off finishing. I suppose it is the fear of not pulling it off that does it. And yet, why shouldn't I pull it off? Most writers ultimately do, don't they? Why do I think I can't? I don't have the answer to that question. After over twenty years of being serious, and five years of being dead serious, one would think...
So I go through my day plagued by this draining feeling. Let down. Slowed down. Dreading. The solution? There are only two: writing and napping. Three if you count eating till it hurts. But since it's only 7:00 AM, napping seems just a bit ridiculous. So I'm heading out to work. To listen to my "Believe" tape (heavy on American Idol songs and Bob Marley) and get the lead out. Wish me luck.
However, if I remind myself of my original intent, I feel better. The intent was to write the story to the end and see what happens. And I did do that. I now know the ending. I know who the conflict comes from in the end. It just needs fleshing out and being this far now is a GOOD thing. Getting to an end, any end is really an accomplishment for me, because I am always putting it off. I love to spend time with the first part, the set-up, the build, but never seem to get to the end. A friend often tells me it's the process I love, not the product.
Am I afraid of endings? I guess so. I mean, I force myself to write stories the first time through to the end, always doing exactly what I did with this short story. But then I put off finishing. I suppose it is the fear of not pulling it off that does it. And yet, why shouldn't I pull it off? Most writers ultimately do, don't they? Why do I think I can't? I don't have the answer to that question. After over twenty years of being serious, and five years of being dead serious, one would think...
So I go through my day plagued by this draining feeling. Let down. Slowed down. Dreading. The solution? There are only two: writing and napping. Three if you count eating till it hurts. But since it's only 7:00 AM, napping seems just a bit ridiculous. So I'm heading out to work. To listen to my "Believe" tape (heavy on American Idol songs and Bob Marley) and get the lead out. Wish me luck.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Prodigal
Returning from the nether regions, my daughter comes home today. As a matter of fact, I'm just waiting for my hair to dry in the velcro rollers so I can take off. I'm very excited. Which is somewhat surprizing to me since she's twenty-three and has lived away, first Davis, then up on the mountain, for the last five years. But there's something about being half a world away that makes it harder. If she gets in trouble in Cali, I can jump in the car and rescue her. Not so easy when she's so far away. But she seems to have survived jumping out of an airplane with what she calls "a hottie," scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, and fulfilling the "Thrillogy," which means she's bungie-jumped THREE times, once from the highest bungie-jumping place in the world!!!! Arghhhhhh!
So I'm in a great mood having survived knowing all this has been happening. Additionally, I managed to complete another short story and shipped it off to the Writers' Digest Pop Fiction contest at exactly 11:52 New York time to meet the 12:00 midnight deadline. The last three hundred words are breathless. It ends abruptly and I'll probably have to fix that to submit elsewhere later, but I did it and I'm relieved. I think I've been worried that I couldn't really do it again...at least so quickly in less than a month of mulling, and less than a week actually writing. I guess I've been thinking that "Leaving Slackerland" just might be all I have in me to complete, but this proves I can do it. Not that I'm saying it's good. It takes a lot for me to say those words, but it has a story, I love the main character, so flawed but so dear, and I think it's got the bones to work. Whether it works now, I can't judge because it's too soon after the "birth."
Well, I've got an airplane to meet so that's all for today. Oh, and I do love the title of the new baby: "As-Is."
So I'm in a great mood having survived knowing all this has been happening. Additionally, I managed to complete another short story and shipped it off to the Writers' Digest Pop Fiction contest at exactly 11:52 New York time to meet the 12:00 midnight deadline. The last three hundred words are breathless. It ends abruptly and I'll probably have to fix that to submit elsewhere later, but I did it and I'm relieved. I think I've been worried that I couldn't really do it again...at least so quickly in less than a month of mulling, and less than a week actually writing. I guess I've been thinking that "Leaving Slackerland" just might be all I have in me to complete, but this proves I can do it. Not that I'm saying it's good. It takes a lot for me to say those words, but it has a story, I love the main character, so flawed but so dear, and I think it's got the bones to work. Whether it works now, I can't judge because it's too soon after the "birth."
Well, I've got an airplane to meet so that's all for today. Oh, and I do love the title of the new baby: "As-Is."
Monday, October 30, 2006
Crazy Weekend
I started my first novel in the fifth grade puple ink on lined notebook paper about the Twellingtons. There were 11 of them, including two sets of twins. The story was told from the viewpoint of the 11 year old twins, Abby and Amy. Eventually, maybe by summer, I gave them a brother Bruce and made them triplets. Who know why except I had a crush on a boy named Bruce. I wrote many many pages of that story mostly about ice skating. Abby was a speed skater and Amy did figure eights. Of course they hit thin ice, one almost dies, but that may have been as far as I got because I don't remember much else.
The novel wasn't a fluke. I have spent a life time writing. I have written with many different attitudes--I suck, I'm terrific, who do I think I am, slow and steady wins the race, I need to be committed, I can do this, Just Do it, Keep it imple stupid, give up, don't give, quit, stick it out--and turned out lots of lousy and sometimes evocative stuff, but never anything that anyone would look up at me and say, "Wow-w-wow!" So I kept working: six screenplays, two complete novels, 40 short stories in various stages of completeness and many many more unfinished pieces.
The reason I bring this up is that yesterday I celebrated my success twice. First at Vroman's reading a flash fiction piece and second at a party given by two dear friends.
The Vromans reading was a result of taking Kerry Madden's class. I don't need to explain much about that having dealt with in on more than one occasion in this space, but the party that followed for me at a friend's house to celebrate the publication of "Leaving Slackerland" in Landmarked for Murder was amazing. It was a simple Wine-and-Cheese and just a few friends, but it was so much fun because everyone was so happy for me. I've been writing for soooo long and they've all gone through the computer crises, the identity crises, the rejection crises, well, just about all those crises for almost twenty years and a few who knew me way way back, before that. So I want to thank Betsy and Gale for creating a time and place to celebrate and for supporting me all these years and to all my friends who are terrific people because, well, I picked them!
So although this is a milestone in my journey that started when I was 11, it hopefully won't be the last. I'm working hard to get What Came Before (do I dare keep my title now that the famous Elizabeth George has abscounded with it?) finished before Landmarked goes out of print.
The novel wasn't a fluke. I have spent a life time writing. I have written with many different attitudes--I suck, I'm terrific, who do I think I am, slow and steady wins the race, I need to be committed, I can do this, Just Do it, Keep it imple stupid, give up, don't give, quit, stick it out--and turned out lots of lousy and sometimes evocative stuff, but never anything that anyone would look up at me and say, "Wow-w-wow!" So I kept working: six screenplays, two complete novels, 40 short stories in various stages of completeness and many many more unfinished pieces.
The reason I bring this up is that yesterday I celebrated my success twice. First at Vroman's reading a flash fiction piece and second at a party given by two dear friends.
The Vromans reading was a result of taking Kerry Madden's class. I don't need to explain much about that having dealt with in on more than one occasion in this space, but the party that followed for me at a friend's house to celebrate the publication of "Leaving Slackerland" in Landmarked for Murder was amazing. It was a simple Wine-and-Cheese and just a few friends, but it was so much fun because everyone was so happy for me. I've been writing for soooo long and they've all gone through the computer crises, the identity crises, the rejection crises, well, just about all those crises for almost twenty years and a few who knew me way way back, before that. So I want to thank Betsy and Gale for creating a time and place to celebrate and for supporting me all these years and to all my friends who are terrific people because, well, I picked them!
So although this is a milestone in my journey that started when I was 11, it hopefully won't be the last. I'm working hard to get What Came Before (do I dare keep my title now that the famous Elizabeth George has abscounded with it?) finished before Landmarked goes out of print.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Charming Tess
She IS charming. Trish and I drove down to the Torrance Borders to have coffee with her. It was fun to hear about her new book which is going to be an historical detective venture set in Boston in 1830. I don't know how much she wants in the ether, so I won't say any more but it sounds like a provocative story. Her lecture about her current release, The Mephisto Club, explored how she got the idea for the novel from an apocryphal text of the bible. The research she does seems exhaustive, but has led to some very provocative insights. I'm on chapter 7 and anxious to have time to read today.
Thanks, Tess, for taking the time for coffee and for the words of encouragement. May your new permanent address be The New York Times bestseller list.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Schmoozing with Tess Gerritsen
I can't believe how lucky I am, but then, I don't think it's really luck.
It's one of those universal truths that most of us don't understand until we're spending a lot of time in the Preference by L'Oreal section of Target: It's the little things one does everyday that often have a pay off way beyond our expectations. The key is to strive toward one's goal with focus and determination and no matter how bleak the path may seem, keep moving, keep striving, and suddenly something will happen that one doesn't expect. If I stick to the path metaphor: one will round the corner, the trees will part, and a golden meadow will appear. Yish. That was corny, but this is a blog. Remember what happened to Dorothy, her meadow was full of poppies.
Anway, to the point. Years ago, I asked a friend who had polio as a child to tell me what it was like. I had an idea for a story and wanted my character to have had polio and I wanted to get it right. She wrote me eight or nine pages of beautiful emotional prose. I was quite honestly blown away. I told her, "You should write this. You've got something to say." So she joined our writing group.
She's been a writing buddy ever since. Sensible, to the point, encouraging. We've gone to Iowa to write and learn about writing, to drink and kibbitz with other writers. From this, we've formed a group of writing friends from Chicago, Galesburg, Illinois, Milwaukee (Lakeport? I can't remember. Someplace in Wisconsin), St. Louis, Boston. Then she decided to defect one year for Maui.
Maui v. Iowa. I sure didn't get it, but it turned out terrific for her. She met Tess Gerritsen who happens to be a fabulously supportive teacher. My writing buddy came back with notes and praise for everything she learned and she kept in touch with Tess. She emails when Tess wins awards or writes a striking blog and Tess always writes back. (For more on TESS)
And my friend is generous. She's taking me with her to have coffee with Tess. I am very excited about this. I have no expectations other than meeting her. I am not going to thrust a manuscript on her. But it's magic to meet someone who has traveled the same path. (Trying hard not to mix metaphors here). She might happen to mention a ditch I won't see. Or a shortcut I would never know about. One never knows what each little thing we do will lead us to. If I hadn't encouraged my friend to write, I would have missed out on a years-long best-friend relationship that has helped me to be both a better writer and a better person. I would have missed out on Tess, too.
We have to be open and friendly and welcome those along the past. Most of all we should be humble. And not just humble at the feet of someone who is famous and respected like Tess Gerritsen, but humble with every person, in every experience.
It's one of those universal truths that most of us don't understand until we're spending a lot of time in the Preference by L'Oreal section of Target: It's the little things one does everyday that often have a pay off way beyond our expectations. The key is to strive toward one's goal with focus and determination and no matter how bleak the path may seem, keep moving, keep striving, and suddenly something will happen that one doesn't expect. If I stick to the path metaphor: one will round the corner, the trees will part, and a golden meadow will appear. Yish. That was corny, but this is a blog. Remember what happened to Dorothy, her meadow was full of poppies.
Anway, to the point. Years ago, I asked a friend who had polio as a child to tell me what it was like. I had an idea for a story and wanted my character to have had polio and I wanted to get it right. She wrote me eight or nine pages of beautiful emotional prose. I was quite honestly blown away. I told her, "You should write this. You've got something to say." So she joined our writing group.
She's been a writing buddy ever since. Sensible, to the point, encouraging. We've gone to Iowa to write and learn about writing, to drink and kibbitz with other writers. From this, we've formed a group of writing friends from Chicago, Galesburg, Illinois, Milwaukee (Lakeport? I can't remember. Someplace in Wisconsin), St. Louis, Boston. Then she decided to defect one year for Maui.
Maui v. Iowa. I sure didn't get it, but it turned out terrific for her. She met Tess Gerritsen who happens to be a fabulously supportive teacher. My writing buddy came back with notes and praise for everything she learned and she kept in touch with Tess. She emails when Tess wins awards or writes a striking blog and Tess always writes back. (For more on TESS)
And my friend is generous. She's taking me with her to have coffee with Tess. I am very excited about this. I have no expectations other than meeting her. I am not going to thrust a manuscript on her. But it's magic to meet someone who has traveled the same path. (Trying hard not to mix metaphors here). She might happen to mention a ditch I won't see. Or a shortcut I would never know about. One never knows what each little thing we do will lead us to. If I hadn't encouraged my friend to write, I would have missed out on a years-long best-friend relationship that has helped me to be both a better writer and a better person. I would have missed out on Tess, too.
We have to be open and friendly and welcome those along the past. Most of all we should be humble. And not just humble at the feet of someone who is famous and respected like Tess Gerritsen, but humble with every person, in every experience.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Last Kerry Class for this year
Sadly the class I'm taking with Kerry Madden is over. All that is left is the reading at Vroman's on Sunday at 3:00. The opportunity to read to an audience is rare for unpublished writers and it's essential for writers to read to see whether or not what a person is writing actually works. So after six weeks of learning from Kerry,, playing, typing away, getting to know the writers in the class, we get the added bonus of reading at a real book store in front of a real audience. I haven't decided yet what I'll read, but more about that later. First I want to talk a little about what this class have given me.
Having Monday evening deadlines has been a god-send during a time when there are so many distractions. It's fall already. That means HOLIDAY season. (Is XMAS a four-letter word to any one else out there?) There are the three holidays that prepare us for the big holiday: Labor day being the gunshot heard around the water cooler, Halloween being fun and fattening, reminding us that if we keep this up, by January we'll have gained another thirty pounds, Thanksgiving being the holiday where we realize we must now ask for a whole new wardrobe for Christmas because we've GAINED that thirty pounds, and then the DAY. More food, more family, more work...well, I can't stand to even type about it. The point is this is MAJOR DISTRACTION. Kerry's class has allowed me to remain in blessed denial about that four-letter word (no disrespect intended against the original meaning of Christmas. I'm bitching about the trappings!)
Second distraction: the remodel. Yes, it is a small remodel. Yes, we do need to stop the Hoover dam above our breakfast room from leaking, but the timing!!! I quit my job so I could write and wouldn't you know that after two years of searching for a contractor, he pops up NOW. I am grateful and Juan is so conscientious and reliable I want to clone him and turn him into doctor, lawyer, insurance salesman, etc. but I still have to listen to a daily cacophony of hammers and compressers. At least I think that's some kind of compresser on my back porch. Soooo Kerry. Monday deadline. No time to really worry about the two x fours blocking my back door. I have to get another chapter polished for my class.
But now it's over. And I have to rely on my own self-discipline to get my writing done. This could be trouble, but I don't think so. I have such a buzz from all the good writing I've seen in this class, the kindness and astute insights from Kerry, and the fun of getting back into my book that I should be okay. That's why I'm posting this so I can read and reread it to remind myself that I can do this thing.
And the whole experience ends with me having the opportunity to read for an audience! I have to admit, I love doing it. I love to read anything aloud, especially from great authors, but it's okay too when I read from me. It's a confidence thing because when you work on something, fret over it, rewrite every word, question every emotion, polish it until you're ready to barf, then put it out there, you are giving something back to the world. (Yes, you may be giving something bad to the world, but they can at least see you are striving toward good), you are opening yourself up to others and saying, "Look, I trust you. I hope you can feel some emotion that with give you a start, a tweak of hope, a little reaction that all's right with the world." If I can get that sense, then I'll keep doing it. And I want to keep doing it, so I'll work hard to create that emotion in others. One of those vicious cycles I guess. But the good kind. I need a name for that. Visceral cycle? Nah. Something will come to me.
So, Sunday at 3:00, I think I'll read "One Question."
Having Monday evening deadlines has been a god-send during a time when there are so many distractions. It's fall already. That means HOLIDAY season. (Is XMAS a four-letter word to any one else out there?) There are the three holidays that prepare us for the big holiday: Labor day being the gunshot heard around the water cooler, Halloween being fun and fattening, reminding us that if we keep this up, by January we'll have gained another thirty pounds, Thanksgiving being the holiday where we realize we must now ask for a whole new wardrobe for Christmas because we've GAINED that thirty pounds, and then the DAY. More food, more family, more work...well, I can't stand to even type about it. The point is this is MAJOR DISTRACTION. Kerry's class has allowed me to remain in blessed denial about that four-letter word (no disrespect intended against the original meaning of Christmas. I'm bitching about the trappings!)
Second distraction: the remodel. Yes, it is a small remodel. Yes, we do need to stop the Hoover dam above our breakfast room from leaking, but the timing!!! I quit my job so I could write and wouldn't you know that after two years of searching for a contractor, he pops up NOW. I am grateful and Juan is so conscientious and reliable I want to clone him and turn him into doctor, lawyer, insurance salesman, etc. but I still have to listen to a daily cacophony of hammers and compressers. At least I think that's some kind of compresser on my back porch. Soooo Kerry. Monday deadline. No time to really worry about the two x fours blocking my back door. I have to get another chapter polished for my class.
But now it's over. And I have to rely on my own self-discipline to get my writing done. This could be trouble, but I don't think so. I have such a buzz from all the good writing I've seen in this class, the kindness and astute insights from Kerry, and the fun of getting back into my book that I should be okay. That's why I'm posting this so I can read and reread it to remind myself that I can do this thing.
And the whole experience ends with me having the opportunity to read for an audience! I have to admit, I love doing it. I love to read anything aloud, especially from great authors, but it's okay too when I read from me. It's a confidence thing because when you work on something, fret over it, rewrite every word, question every emotion, polish it until you're ready to barf, then put it out there, you are giving something back to the world. (Yes, you may be giving something bad to the world, but they can at least see you are striving toward good), you are opening yourself up to others and saying, "Look, I trust you. I hope you can feel some emotion that with give you a start, a tweak of hope, a little reaction that all's right with the world." If I can get that sense, then I'll keep doing it. And I want to keep doing it, so I'll work hard to create that emotion in others. One of those vicious cycles I guess. But the good kind. I need a name for that. Visceral cycle? Nah. Something will come to me.
So, Sunday at 3:00, I think I'll read "One Question."
Monday, October 23, 2006
Behind the Eight Ball
Of course I put myself there on the pool table when the felt was brand new. Now it’s full of rips and bald spots. And I like hunkering down behind the eight ball, putting myself in situations that take time I really don’t have and if I did, I couldn’t manage.
After I COMMITTED myself to being more responsible, timely, Johnnie-on-the-spot, to “Words in Place” way back when. Maybe I should call this “Words NOT on Paper” or “Words Missing in Action?”
And that’s not all.
Writing Life: I finally have something in print after years of slumping over a typewriter, and I still don't have my novel finished to take advantage of the hype!
Real Life: I haven’t called to get the dead oak removed. Get the chimney repaired. I haven't cleaned up my email address book. Picked up the dry cleaning or the dog poops on the driveway or returned my lemon of a vacuum cleaner to Pasadena Vacuum!
And most of the month of October is gone.
But it's hard to blog when I have a novel to revise and a short story to promote. Yep that's what I said. PROMOTE which means it is published and amazingly enough available at Amazon.com. I'm playing with the big boys now. Here's the link Landmarked at Amazon.
Of course the only review out there I've seen doesn't mention MY story or even MY landmark, but maybe that's a good thing. I won't take it personal. It was some Valley newspaper and I don’t think it was MY valley. No press is good press? Any one of you (that’s what I said, Jane, any ONE) who reads this and is willing to submit an Amazon review, please bring me up?
Enough clichés. You see, my mind is slightly blown so bear with me. What this post is about is how I feel about this whole “getting something published” thing. Because I've been writing seriously since 1987. Strange how my first publication is 20 years after my high school reunion where people came up to me and said, "Are you still writing?" "Have you published?" I had to say “yes, I’ve dipped my pen” a few times over the previous years. But nothing came of it but two beautiful children, a terrific husband, and a nice little Victorian house. I hadn't published anything more than a couple of letters-to-the-editor in the LA Times about traffic. (I’m still writing about traffic. After all, they say “write what you know”). So back in ’87, I made a vow to get to work. I felt I had the raw skills and all I had to do was sit down at a desk and DO IT and all would be well.
Fast forward twenty years...almost. Is that possible? (Am I actually going to have a FORTY YEAR REUNION next year?) Has it taken me almost two decades to actually see my name on a published story?
Yes, I suppose it has. I guess what I saw happen was that a little talent doesn't really get you all that far, if indeed you have that talent you think you have. The real key, the real test, is fortitude, conscientiousness, stubbornness, occasional rudeness, focus, vulnerability, and determination. All that to get one twenty page short story about a twenty-something slacker/pot smoker set in type. (I know. They don't set type any more. Give me a break. I'm old.)
But I’m nothing if I’m not stubborn. I figure I’ve got a good twenty years left before my mind can’t get past my aching feet and I can still move my fingers to type, so I am committed both to this space and of course, to the forty or so novels and short stories that are floating around my head. If I believe in myself, and I accept the fact that I have to take each step one at a time, I’ll get somewhere. Life is like writing a novel. You may know what you want and you may strive for it, but that isn’t always what eventually comes to you. What comes, though, if you have worked hard, is enough. I am proud of that little twenty page short story. And it’s given me exactly what I need: confidence to write more.
After I COMMITTED myself to being more responsible, timely, Johnnie-on-the-spot, to “Words in Place” way back when. Maybe I should call this “Words NOT on Paper” or “Words Missing in Action?”
And that’s not all.
Writing Life: I finally have something in print after years of slumping over a typewriter, and I still don't have my novel finished to take advantage of the hype!
Real Life: I haven’t called to get the dead oak removed. Get the chimney repaired. I haven't cleaned up my email address book. Picked up the dry cleaning or the dog poops on the driveway or returned my lemon of a vacuum cleaner to Pasadena Vacuum!
And most of the month of October is gone.
But it's hard to blog when I have a novel to revise and a short story to promote. Yep that's what I said. PROMOTE which means it is published and amazingly enough available at Amazon.com. I'm playing with the big boys now. Here's the link Landmarked at Amazon.
Of course the only review out there I've seen doesn't mention MY story or even MY landmark, but maybe that's a good thing. I won't take it personal. It was some Valley newspaper and I don’t think it was MY valley. No press is good press? Any one of you (that’s what I said, Jane, any ONE) who reads this and is willing to submit an Amazon review, please bring me up?
Enough clichés. You see, my mind is slightly blown so bear with me. What this post is about is how I feel about this whole “getting something published” thing. Because I've been writing seriously since 1987. Strange how my first publication is 20 years after my high school reunion where people came up to me and said, "Are you still writing?" "Have you published?" I had to say “yes, I’ve dipped my pen” a few times over the previous years. But nothing came of it but two beautiful children, a terrific husband, and a nice little Victorian house. I hadn't published anything more than a couple of letters-to-the-editor in the LA Times about traffic. (I’m still writing about traffic. After all, they say “write what you know”). So back in ’87, I made a vow to get to work. I felt I had the raw skills and all I had to do was sit down at a desk and DO IT and all would be well.
Fast forward twenty years...almost. Is that possible? (Am I actually going to have a FORTY YEAR REUNION next year?) Has it taken me almost two decades to actually see my name on a published story?
Yes, I suppose it has. I guess what I saw happen was that a little talent doesn't really get you all that far, if indeed you have that talent you think you have. The real key, the real test, is fortitude, conscientiousness, stubbornness, occasional rudeness, focus, vulnerability, and determination. All that to get one twenty page short story about a twenty-something slacker/pot smoker set in type. (I know. They don't set type any more. Give me a break. I'm old.)
But I’m nothing if I’m not stubborn. I figure I’ve got a good twenty years left before my mind can’t get past my aching feet and I can still move my fingers to type, so I am committed both to this space and of course, to the forty or so novels and short stories that are floating around my head. If I believe in myself, and I accept the fact that I have to take each step one at a time, I’ll get somewhere. Life is like writing a novel. You may know what you want and you may strive for it, but that isn’t always what eventually comes to you. What comes, though, if you have worked hard, is enough. I am proud of that little twenty page short story. And it’s given me exactly what I need: confidence to write more.
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