I''ve been struggling lately with letting go of my internal editor and just having fun writing, instead of always looking over my own shoulder. I think that self criticism gets in the way of much of the creative process. But, I just always worry that I'm writing something ridiculous and not-at-all clever.
Maybe that's not the end of the world, though.
So I bring you the most whimsical thing I've written in a while... enjoy. Or skip over it if it's ridiculous and not-at-all clever. I'm just trying to loosen up, you're not going to hurt my feelings.
“Write something,” the muse says.
The muse lacks sympathy. There is no point to excuses. But that never stops the writer.
“I had a long day at work.”
The muse rolls her eyes. “Oh. The suffering artist can’t escape the corporate drone. You should write a suspense novel. Do you think the artist would be thrown over a balcony or –”
“Some of us were up at six this morning, you know. Don’t think I didn’t see you sprawled across the walk-in closet, snoring, when I left for work this morning.”
“Well, maybe if you respected your muse and gave her a bedroom to herself, instead of having to sleep on the piles of laundry you never manage to hang up, you wouldn’t have to spend quite so much time vacillating on your writing.”
“Are you saying you’re holding out on me, muse?”
“I’m saying a muse needs a little respect. A good night’s sleep. Maybe a quilted duvet and a Serta to herself.”
“You never complained before.”
“I didn’t mind sleeping under your bed in college. We were poor – we ate Ramen – but we were brilliant together.”
“All the last-minute deadlines we beat,” the writer agrees. “The A’s we weren’t entirely sure we deserved, given the intermittent rambling that worked its way in around 3am in the library…”
“That was all you,” the muse sniffs. “After about your fourth Mountain Dew, I could never handle working with you anymore.”
“Fickle muse,” the writer says. But the tone is a little bit fond – how could it not be?
“No distractions. Write something.”
“But about what? Isn’t that your department?”
“I’m always here when you ask me,” the muse says. “And I’ve been throwing ideas out since minute one.”
“Fascinating.”
“No one likes a poor writer, but especially no one likes a poor sarcastic writer.”
“We’re not going to fight, are we? I don’t like to fight.”
“No? That’s not what I’d expect from someone who practically disowned me in Venice.”
“The most romantic city in the world, except perhaps Paris – I haven’t been but I doubt it smells swampy like Venice does in places – and you couldn’t give me one air-kiss worth of inspiration.”
“Is that any reason to go ranting about your muse into the stereotypically dark and rainy night?”
“It was all the red wine I drank with my pizza.”
The muse is quiet for a second. “That was great pizza. With the egg on it?”
“We miss out here in America. No egg on our pizza.”
“Write something and I’ll buy you a pizza.”
“You don’t have any money, remember? You’re ethereal.”
“Is that your way of saying I am the most delightful figment of your imagination you have?”
“Sure.”
“Then do me a favor and write something.”
“For the love of all that is holy and some things that aren’t, write what?”
The muse nibbles charmingly on the end of an eraser, then spits out little pieces of pink rubber in disgust. “Erm,” the muse says, before rubbing her tongue with the back of her hand. “Didn’t I already tell you?”
“No,” the writer says, wearily, remembering another conversation that went like this, just before the incident in Venice.
“Write about fighting with a lover in the most romantic city in the world. Write about eating pizza in a half-dozen countries across the world and what was happening around each meal. Write about being a poor, sarcastic writer that no one takes quite seriously – what does your mother think about this living, really? Write about eating Ramen noodles as the sun comes up, too enthralled in your own novel to stop and sleep. Write about being unkind to your muse. Write about what it’s like to be a corporate drone and a passionate artiste all at once.”
The writer thinks for a second. “Oh.”
“Yes, that’s right,” the muse says. “Oh. Now write.”
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
One of the books I picked up on my last trip for work was Linda Formichelli and Diane Burrell's The Renegade Writer: a totally unconventional guide to freelance writing success.
I really enjoyed this book as a look at the world of freelance non-fiction, but I think it's best suited as one of a series of books in a library rather than a stand-alone guide to the non-fiction world. I think it needs to be backed by at least two other books. One would be a good resource on writing queries, with plentiful examples (more on this in a subsequent post). And the other one would be a more, well, conventional guide to freelance writing, not to borrow too freely from the subtitle. Because I think a writer needs to really understand the rules in order to determine which to break.
However, The Renegade Writer was informative and clearly written, with enough anecdotes from the writing business to keep it fun. I thought I'd tell you a little about the contents to help you determine if this would be a good addition to your writing resources:
Breaking in by breaking the rules: even new freelancers can be renegades. I thought this was really helpful -- it offered a lot of tips for the so-to-speak freelance noob to enter the industry and then parlay initial assignments into a career. Linda and Diana laid to rest some of the rumors that make newer freelancers worry they are about to destroy their careers before they can even begin through one misguided query, suggesting that it's OK to start with shorts, it's OK to write for newspapers and it's OK to write for free -- you just have to know when these things are helping your career and when it's no longer advancing your particular set of goals.
Cranking up the idea factory: bold thinking leads to countless ideas. Loved this section, which is about nurturing and developing non-fiction ideas, but the general concepts apply across the board. One tip I liked is similar to shopping in your own closet (which would be easier if the mall did not offer Cinnabons and chick flicks as well as new tops): go through old writings and look for new life. Recycling is in, people!
No fear querying: now turn those ideas into assignments. Here we address the always controversial topic of SASEs, whether or not to read back issues before submitting (and if so, how many) and whether or not it's ever acceptable to call an editor. They also have a pre-query checklist. I like checklists.
Signing on the dotted line: renegades get fatter, fairer, safer contracts. Contract negotiation, because writing is a business, not just your hobby. I will admit, I was too over-the-moon about my past publications to worry much about the contract I signed, but I am an older, wiser writer now. Well, I'm older and less excitable, anyway.
Mining for information: a little digging can turn up info gold. This chapter is about finding sources to flesh out your great idea - finding the right source, getting them to talk to you.
Talking the talk: renegade interviews get the story, and then some. How to get folks to open up and give you the real story. As a mildly introverted person, I don't find myself squeaky with excitement over this prospect, but it was good information.
Putting pen to paper: yes, renegade writers even break grammar rules! I didn't really need these chapter. I've been breaking grammar rules since I discovered the English language. Seriously though, this chapter has some useful info about story length for delivery, when to alter quotes and how to do it so you don't get sued, and how to keep your grandmother from reading your "91 ways to shock to him tonight" article in Cosmo.
Getting the green: don't be shy when it comes time to collect. Ah, money. As practical as the focus was here, I just found myself day-dreaming about the day when I'm cruising around in a Lexus, thinking of great stories on my way to the beach.
The renegade attitude: Your success often depends on your mindset. All about turning from that freelance noob to the career writer, through saavy business skill to match your killer writing.
Thriving, not just surviving: don't settle for anything less than reaching the top. And once you've become that career writer? Here's how you keep it going.
Like I said, I wouldn't use this as my sole resource, but The Renegade Writer is packed with great information. And it was a really engaging read -- very nice if you're going to be stuck in the Denver airport (or that may have been Chicago, I honestly lost track) for four hours on a misbegotten layover, as I was. Overall, I'd give this book a solid 8 out of 10 points -- I'd be interested to read anything else the writers have on the market, and I plan to keep this book on my shelf for a long time to come.
I really enjoyed this book as a look at the world of freelance non-fiction, but I think it's best suited as one of a series of books in a library rather than a stand-alone guide to the non-fiction world. I think it needs to be backed by at least two other books. One would be a good resource on writing queries, with plentiful examples (more on this in a subsequent post). And the other one would be a more, well, conventional guide to freelance writing, not to borrow too freely from the subtitle. Because I think a writer needs to really understand the rules in order to determine which to break.
However, The Renegade Writer was informative and clearly written, with enough anecdotes from the writing business to keep it fun. I thought I'd tell you a little about the contents to help you determine if this would be a good addition to your writing resources:
Breaking in by breaking the rules: even new freelancers can be renegades. I thought this was really helpful -- it offered a lot of tips for the so-to-speak freelance noob to enter the industry and then parlay initial assignments into a career. Linda and Diana laid to rest some of the rumors that make newer freelancers worry they are about to destroy their careers before they can even begin through one misguided query, suggesting that it's OK to start with shorts, it's OK to write for newspapers and it's OK to write for free -- you just have to know when these things are helping your career and when it's no longer advancing your particular set of goals.
Cranking up the idea factory: bold thinking leads to countless ideas. Loved this section, which is about nurturing and developing non-fiction ideas, but the general concepts apply across the board. One tip I liked is similar to shopping in your own closet (which would be easier if the mall did not offer Cinnabons and chick flicks as well as new tops): go through old writings and look for new life. Recycling is in, people!
No fear querying: now turn those ideas into assignments. Here we address the always controversial topic of SASEs, whether or not to read back issues before submitting (and if so, how many) and whether or not it's ever acceptable to call an editor. They also have a pre-query checklist. I like checklists.
Signing on the dotted line: renegades get fatter, fairer, safer contracts. Contract negotiation, because writing is a business, not just your hobby. I will admit, I was too over-the-moon about my past publications to worry much about the contract I signed, but I am an older, wiser writer now. Well, I'm older and less excitable, anyway.
Mining for information: a little digging can turn up info gold. This chapter is about finding sources to flesh out your great idea - finding the right source, getting them to talk to you.
Talking the talk: renegade interviews get the story, and then some. How to get folks to open up and give you the real story. As a mildly introverted person, I don't find myself squeaky with excitement over this prospect, but it was good information.
Putting pen to paper: yes, renegade writers even break grammar rules! I didn't really need these chapter. I've been breaking grammar rules since I discovered the English language. Seriously though, this chapter has some useful info about story length for delivery, when to alter quotes and how to do it so you don't get sued, and how to keep your grandmother from reading your "91 ways to shock to him tonight" article in Cosmo.
Getting the green: don't be shy when it comes time to collect. Ah, money. As practical as the focus was here, I just found myself day-dreaming about the day when I'm cruising around in a Lexus, thinking of great stories on my way to the beach.
The renegade attitude: Your success often depends on your mindset. All about turning from that freelance noob to the career writer, through saavy business skill to match your killer writing.
Thriving, not just surviving: don't settle for anything less than reaching the top. And once you've become that career writer? Here's how you keep it going.
Like I said, I wouldn't use this as my sole resource, but The Renegade Writer is packed with great information. And it was a really engaging read -- very nice if you're going to be stuck in the Denver airport (or that may have been Chicago, I honestly lost track) for four hours on a misbegotten layover, as I was. Overall, I'd give this book a solid 8 out of 10 points -- I'd be interested to read anything else the writers have on the market, and I plan to keep this book on my shelf for a long time to come.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
I just came back from a hellacious business trip (including a return flight home where my originating flight was delayed, I missed my connecting flight, and United tried to tell me the first flight home would be in the morning. After I bullied them into flying me out that night, they lost my luggage).
However, there were some positives to this trip. Notably, I was in lovely Oceanside, CA (well, parts of it are lovely, anyway), and I was able to visit my fave local bookstore, Fahrenheit 451 in downtown Carlsbad. It's two blocks away from the ocean, and conveniently located across my favorite bar and my favorite sushi place. Mmm. I miss California.
Anyway, I headed in there one day and ravaged their fiction and writing sections for half off cover price. Borders just cannot compare. I picked up some new novels: Sittenfeld's latest, "The Man of My Dreams", Emily Gilbert's "Stern Men", and Jodi Picoult's "Vanishing Acts". Those saved my sanity during my long and disasterous day of travel on Friday!
But best of all, I picked up some books on writing:
Ah, I'm a dork. But that's nothing new. :)
However, there were some positives to this trip. Notably, I was in lovely Oceanside, CA (well, parts of it are lovely, anyway), and I was able to visit my fave local bookstore, Fahrenheit 451 in downtown Carlsbad. It's two blocks away from the ocean, and conveniently located across my favorite bar and my favorite sushi place. Mmm. I miss California.
Anyway, I headed in there one day and ravaged their fiction and writing sections for half off cover price. Borders just cannot compare. I picked up some new novels: Sittenfeld's latest, "The Man of My Dreams", Emily Gilbert's "Stern Men", and Jodi Picoult's "Vanishing Acts". Those saved my sanity during my long and disasterous day of travel on Friday!
But best of all, I picked up some books on writing:
- The Renegade Writer, by Formichelli and Burrell
- Follow the Story, by James Stewart
- The Writer's Guide to Queries, Pitches & Proposals, by Moira Allen
Ah, I'm a dork. But that's nothing new. :)
Friday, July 31, 2009
I have a writing hierarchy in terms of how I'd like to some day earn a living with this writing business:
1. Writing fiction and poetry.
2. Writing commercial non-fiction.
3. Writing copy for advertising.
I've spent most of my time so far focusing on my fiction. But lately I've been thinking a lot about what happens when I transition out of my current day job (in a few years). Handsome and I would like to work out a way for me to stay home with our kids without completely leaving the job market. I'm working on a second day job, but finally it occurred to me that the most logical thing would be to do what I want the most -- to write.
But getting to a point where I could make this into a day job... oy. I feel so overwhelmed by the idea of trying to pursue this seriously... not just the dream of selling my novels, but the idea of writing historical articles and women's health shorts and even, if it pays the mortgage, ad copy. Man, I am really struggling just to refine the query for that piece on the Rabbits of Ravensbruck that I described in the post below. This is hard frickin' work!
But then, I guess even the dream job ends up being work, in the end. :)
1. Writing fiction and poetry.
2. Writing commercial non-fiction.
3. Writing copy for advertising.
I've spent most of my time so far focusing on my fiction. But lately I've been thinking a lot about what happens when I transition out of my current day job (in a few years). Handsome and I would like to work out a way for me to stay home with our kids without completely leaving the job market. I'm working on a second day job, but finally it occurred to me that the most logical thing would be to do what I want the most -- to write.
But getting to a point where I could make this into a day job... oy. I feel so overwhelmed by the idea of trying to pursue this seriously... not just the dream of selling my novels, but the idea of writing historical articles and women's health shorts and even, if it pays the mortgage, ad copy. Man, I am really struggling just to refine the query for that piece on the Rabbits of Ravensbruck that I described in the post below. This is hard frickin' work!
But then, I guess even the dream job ends up being work, in the end. :)
Monday, July 27, 2009
It's time to switch it up and start writing non-fiction queries.
I've decided to try and branch out to write about some of my non-fiction interests as well. I have been reading books and thinking about all three for a few years now, and tried two years ago to start my own ad-writing business, but that quickly went onto the back burner when I decided to start graduate school instead. But what the heck... you can always find some extra time to write. Right? That's our theme around here.
So today, since I was organizing files anyway, I flipped through my non-fiction writing from college. I did my undergrad in History, and my special interest was the plight of Polish Catholic women during WW2 (an interest that stems from the fact that the Polish side of my family all disappeared in WW2... the American emigrant side was never able to contact them again). I am currently struggling with a proposal on the "Rabbits of Ravensbruck" for a WW2 history magazine. Does this sound interesting to you?
When Wanda Poltawska regained consciousness in the Ravensbruck hospital after her first operation in 1942, her leg was in a cast. Written on the plaster was the Roman numeral “II”. She and the other five women in the room compared their casts; two of them had “I”, two “II”, and two “III”. They were mystified. They were relatively healthy (except for malnutrition) and had no need for surgery. They hadn’t been told why or how their operations were being conducted. They had no way of knowing that the numerals signified what material had been introduced into incisions in their legs to bring about infection: I was fragments of wood, II glass splinters, and III a combination of both.
These women were all Polish-Catholic political prisoners held in Ravensbruck Concentration Camp. Without trial, they had been sentenced to long and painful deaths as the victims of Nazi medical experiments, on treating battlefield wounds with sulfanilamide medications. Some would succumb to their wounds and some would be executed; some survived to tell their story at the Nuremberg trials of the medical staff. These women refused to be willing victims of the Nazis and struggled to protect each other and to expose their miseries at the camp hospital to the world. But have the “rabbits” (their joking way of referring to themselves as guinea pigs) of Ravensbruck been forgotten?
I am prepared to write a short article of 2500-3000 words on the 74 women who resisted medical victimization at the hands of the Nazis. Although this is a small group, they have an intriguing story. These women protested their treatment to the camp leadership, knowing it would be futile but hoping to take a stand; they passed information about their condition outside the camp, where word of medical abuses eventually reached the Allies; and they were dedicated to ensuring there was at least one survivor to tell their story after the war. Their spokeswoman told the camp commandant that, “as political prisoners they all preferred execution to operations”.
The other members of the Ravensbruck concentration camp did their best to shelter the “rabbits” and to hide them in the final days, as the war came to a close and the doctors sought to destroy the evidence of their inhumanity. These efforts included a female Russian electrician cutting the power in the midst of roll call so that the injured prisoners could be relocated and hidden. Finally, in 1946, four survivors testified against the three members of their medical staff held responsible: Doctors Gebhard and Fischer, and the female Doctor Oberheuser. The two male doctors were both condemned to death by hanging; Gebhart claimed his sentence was unjust, but Fischer, visibly shaken by the testimony against him, said at the end of his trial, ““I would have liked to stand up and say, hang me immediately. I am finished.”
Man, I feel like this should be shorter, but I have so much to say about these women! They truly took a heroic stand in the face of terrible mistreatment and death.
But then again, that's why I'm struggling with this query.
I've decided to try and branch out to write about some of my non-fiction interests as well. I have been reading books and thinking about all three for a few years now, and tried two years ago to start my own ad-writing business, but that quickly went onto the back burner when I decided to start graduate school instead. But what the heck... you can always find some extra time to write. Right? That's our theme around here.
So today, since I was organizing files anyway, I flipped through my non-fiction writing from college. I did my undergrad in History, and my special interest was the plight of Polish Catholic women during WW2 (an interest that stems from the fact that the Polish side of my family all disappeared in WW2... the American emigrant side was never able to contact them again). I am currently struggling with a proposal on the "Rabbits of Ravensbruck" for a WW2 history magazine. Does this sound interesting to you?
When Wanda Poltawska regained consciousness in the Ravensbruck hospital after her first operation in 1942, her leg was in a cast. Written on the plaster was the Roman numeral “II”. She and the other five women in the room compared their casts; two of them had “I”, two “II”, and two “III”. They were mystified. They were relatively healthy (except for malnutrition) and had no need for surgery. They hadn’t been told why or how their operations were being conducted. They had no way of knowing that the numerals signified what material had been introduced into incisions in their legs to bring about infection: I was fragments of wood, II glass splinters, and III a combination of both.
These women were all Polish-Catholic political prisoners held in Ravensbruck Concentration Camp. Without trial, they had been sentenced to long and painful deaths as the victims of Nazi medical experiments, on treating battlefield wounds with sulfanilamide medications. Some would succumb to their wounds and some would be executed; some survived to tell their story at the Nuremberg trials of the medical staff. These women refused to be willing victims of the Nazis and struggled to protect each other and to expose their miseries at the camp hospital to the world. But have the “rabbits” (their joking way of referring to themselves as guinea pigs) of Ravensbruck been forgotten?
I am prepared to write a short article of 2500-3000 words on the 74 women who resisted medical victimization at the hands of the Nazis. Although this is a small group, they have an intriguing story. These women protested their treatment to the camp leadership, knowing it would be futile but hoping to take a stand; they passed information about their condition outside the camp, where word of medical abuses eventually reached the Allies; and they were dedicated to ensuring there was at least one survivor to tell their story after the war. Their spokeswoman told the camp commandant that, “as political prisoners they all preferred execution to operations”.
The other members of the Ravensbruck concentration camp did their best to shelter the “rabbits” and to hide them in the final days, as the war came to a close and the doctors sought to destroy the evidence of their inhumanity. These efforts included a female Russian electrician cutting the power in the midst of roll call so that the injured prisoners could be relocated and hidden. Finally, in 1946, four survivors testified against the three members of their medical staff held responsible: Doctors Gebhard and Fischer, and the female Doctor Oberheuser. The two male doctors were both condemned to death by hanging; Gebhart claimed his sentence was unjust, but Fischer, visibly shaken by the testimony against him, said at the end of his trial, ““I would have liked to stand up and say, hang me immediately. I am finished.”
Man, I feel like this should be shorter, but I have so much to say about these women! They truly took a heroic stand in the face of terrible mistreatment and death.
But then again, that's why I'm struggling with this query.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
It is poetry!
I'm excited right now and I just had to share with you guys. I'm on a layover right now (enjoying the free wi-fi in the very nice Denver airport), and I just had a very successful cross-country flight: I finished the Jodi Picoult novel I was reading (not my favorite), outlined the solution for a group project for my class, and... wrote some poetry!
This might not sound too exciting, but I haven't written poetry in years. Seriously. Since 2006 -- I've had poems published more recently than I've written one. I just have not felt poetically inspired and, when I tried anyway, it was TERRIBLE. Really, is there anything worse than a bad poem? I blamed it on my current state of happiness, since most of my poetry came from a well of adolescent angst and unrequited love (yes, it was that kind of poetry).
I'm not saying anything I wrote today is genius, but... it's definitely a start. And I'm happy - with my life and with having some poetry in it again... if not with domestic airline travel (it's for business, nothing exciting... and they're making me fly on a Sunday. Poop).
I'm excited right now and I just had to share with you guys. I'm on a layover right now (enjoying the free wi-fi in the very nice Denver airport), and I just had a very successful cross-country flight: I finished the Jodi Picoult novel I was reading (not my favorite), outlined the solution for a group project for my class, and... wrote some poetry!
This might not sound too exciting, but I haven't written poetry in years. Seriously. Since 2006 -- I've had poems published more recently than I've written one. I just have not felt poetically inspired and, when I tried anyway, it was TERRIBLE. Really, is there anything worse than a bad poem? I blamed it on my current state of happiness, since most of my poetry came from a well of adolescent angst and unrequited love (yes, it was that kind of poetry).
I'm not saying anything I wrote today is genius, but... it's definitely a start. And I'm happy - with my life and with having some poetry in it again... if not with domestic airline travel (it's for business, nothing exciting... and they're making me fly on a Sunday. Poop).
Saturday, July 11, 2009
I've never been a big fan of e-publishing. In fact, I've traditionally shied away from publishing in electronic magazines, preferring the respectability a printed and bound document seems to convey.
But the magic of the iPhone is changing my mind.
It all started when I first browsed through free applications. And - oh, look, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I'd like to read the Fitzgerald original, having seen the movie. And a Children's Books app, free to download - Peter Pan and the Jungle Book at my fingertips? I had to have that one.
From there, I was on a crusade to find all the free books I could. I downloaded Stanza to my iPhone, and from there accessed the online catalog. And there were many books by established authors, and also new works by emerging artists. I read P.J. Lyon's short story, I Burn Today, and I was hooked on discovering new authors who had released free books.
And I am starting to change my mind. Because here's the thing -- I've always believed in the somewhat hackneyed saying that "Information wants to be free". Watching the music industry fail to adjust to changing technology, trying instead to haul us back into the dark ages so they can keep selling CDs at $18 a pop, I've been convinced that the answer was to make tracks available for free and allow people to choose to support the artists. I know I'll happily pay for tracks off iTunes or buy CDs or concert tickets to support a musician once I've fallen in love with him or her (which only happens if I try it for free, one way or another).
So maybe writing is the same thing. Maybe what matters most is getting the story out there that needs to be told. And then all the other stuff - the money part - will work itself out in the long run.
Maybe that's naieve. But I have stories I want to tell.
But the magic of the iPhone is changing my mind.
It all started when I first browsed through free applications. And - oh, look, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I'd like to read the Fitzgerald original, having seen the movie. And a Children's Books app, free to download - Peter Pan and the Jungle Book at my fingertips? I had to have that one.
From there, I was on a crusade to find all the free books I could. I downloaded Stanza to my iPhone, and from there accessed the online catalog. And there were many books by established authors, and also new works by emerging artists. I read P.J. Lyon's short story, I Burn Today, and I was hooked on discovering new authors who had released free books.
And I am starting to change my mind. Because here's the thing -- I've always believed in the somewhat hackneyed saying that "Information wants to be free". Watching the music industry fail to adjust to changing technology, trying instead to haul us back into the dark ages so they can keep selling CDs at $18 a pop, I've been convinced that the answer was to make tracks available for free and allow people to choose to support the artists. I know I'll happily pay for tracks off iTunes or buy CDs or concert tickets to support a musician once I've fallen in love with him or her (which only happens if I try it for free, one way or another).
So maybe writing is the same thing. Maybe what matters most is getting the story out there that needs to be told. And then all the other stuff - the money part - will work itself out in the long run.
Maybe that's naieve. But I have stories I want to tell.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Happy Independence Day to my fellow American blog-followers. :)
This is a busy weekend for me -- we put an offer in on a house yesterday (we'll see what happens-- cross your fingers for us!), we have big plans for tonight, watching the D.C. fireworks from a cute rooftop restaurant, and Monday is my birthday. But while I am excited for everything going on this weekend, I find I'm also excited for my quiet Sunday plans. Handsome needs to do some work on a project for work, so I'm going to get my nails done, then try out a new indie coffee shop (love the non-chains) and do some writing. In the midst of all this craziness, this seems like quite a treat!
Anyway, I'm out... I have a cookout to prepare for. Have a great weekend! And make some time to write! :)
This is a busy weekend for me -- we put an offer in on a house yesterday (we'll see what happens-- cross your fingers for us!), we have big plans for tonight, watching the D.C. fireworks from a cute rooftop restaurant, and Monday is my birthday. But while I am excited for everything going on this weekend, I find I'm also excited for my quiet Sunday plans. Handsome needs to do some work on a project for work, so I'm going to get my nails done, then try out a new indie coffee shop (love the non-chains) and do some writing. In the midst of all this craziness, this seems like quite a treat!
Anyway, I'm out... I have a cookout to prepare for. Have a great weekend! And make some time to write! :)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
When I first started this blog, I wasn't sure if there was a blogging community of people like me: the future professional writers, still undiscovered, staring down their keyboards with "Eye of the Tiger" playing in the background.
Well, OK, that part might just be me. But the would-be writers, the semi-pros, that's a much bigger community. Not folks who necessarily have a big fan page set up yet, but people just talking about their writing journey. Every new blog I start reading, I seem to find links to some great resources, some new blogs I'd also like to follow. It's already getting hard to keep up with - there are so many blogs I want to check out (I do have a full-time day job and part-time school, so my running out of time does not equate to me being a total slacker. Really).
So I just wanted to mention a few of the writing blogs I'm reading, that you might enjoy reading as well:
The Writer's Cocoon. Stephanie blogs beautifully about the writing process (and the searching-for-an-agent process). If you enjoy my blog and a look into a writer's mind, you'll likely enjoy Stephanie's blog as well.
Practing Poetry. Whether you are a fellow would-be writer or not, you may enjoy Morrow's poetry. I read these evocative, image-rich poems and wish I were still writing poetry (my poem-muse seems to have jumped ship; thank God my fiction-muse is still bumming around the house and forgetting to put the OJ back in the fridge).
InkyGirl is a fun one to check out when you are procrastinating on getting down to work (Not that any of us do that, of course). She covers topics of interest and - best of all- creates original comics for writers. I love comics! Who doesn't love comics? I have include one of InkyGirl's comics at the top of the page (it would be down here, but I apparently have no control over Blogger yet. Sawwy).
Oh, my gosh. There's several more excellent blogs to cover, and I am out of time for this particular post. And I keep running into fun new blogs, too... well, I'll keep posting blogs I read & love as I run across them. And if you run across my blog, and seem to be a kindred spirit, please leave me a comment with a link to your site! I'd love to check it out.
Until next time...
*Cue music* So many times, it happens so fast/you lose your passion for glory/don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past/you must fight just to keep them alive... it's the eye of the tiger/it's the thrill of the fight...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I feel a little less horrid about myself as a writer already... I wrote a new scene for my fantasy novel, weighing in at 680 words - not bad work for half an hour. Not that I feel 100% sure about the writing itself (One of my characters said, and I quote, "You aren't a-bed yet, sweetness?")... but getting the words on the page is the thing, right? Anything else can be sorted out later in re-writes.
That's the theory by which I live, anyway.
Now to write a few hundred words tomorrow, too, and the next day...
That's the theory by which I live, anyway.
Now to write a few hundred words tomorrow, too, and the next day...
...that not only am I doing a rather poor job of updating this blog, but also, all my posts lately seem to focus on procrastination and making time to write?
You are wise, O Reader, since you have deduced my secret. I am doing a crummy job of getting any writing done lately.
Here's the story (or rather, there's presently a lack of story-writing; we should probably just refer to this as the litany of excuses): My current day begins at 5am when I leave for the gym, I am at my desk by 745am, and I work until 430pm before driving the 1/2 hour to 45 minutes home (traffic dependent).
In the evenings, I attend school part-time, grocery shop, or go house-hunting with Handsome, since we are currently looking for a home (which will no doubt be yet more of a black hole in terms of my time, since I hear houses require maintenance and other ugly things). Sometimes, I make us some sustenance or toss in a load of laundry, although Handsome has taken over most tasks for me... right down to hand-feeding me homemade rice krispy treats while I crunch numbers for my finance class. Since we're new to the area, we're also trying to make it outside of the apartment now and then to make some friends, or explore the delightful city nearby (free museums! art shows! bike trails! great restaurants! theater!).
In other words, I haven't written a word in two weeks, other than this blog... and when I'm not even managing to write any fiction for myself, the blog itself seems a bit fraudulent.
You know, the journal I kept when I was a teenager was filled with angst, but I didn't realize the online one about writing was going to be quite this full of angst itself.
Oh well. Now that I'm settled into a schedule, I can work on carving out some time to write. Perhaps I can find someplace near work to take my laptop over lunch once a week, Maybe in the morning... nah, there's no way I'm getting up even earlier than 5am. Next idea. Maybe I can take a night off to myself to sneak off and write, or carve out a regular weekend date with the muse. I'll figure it out. I have to. I'm making progress on a lot of other goals right now, but not towards this "career novelist" bit.
However, right now, I have my homework done, my gym bag and lunch packed for the morning, and a sweet half-hour to myself. So I am going to go and try to make the most of this time, even though I barely know where to begin.
You are wise, O Reader, since you have deduced my secret. I am doing a crummy job of getting any writing done lately.
Here's the story (or rather, there's presently a lack of story-writing; we should probably just refer to this as the litany of excuses): My current day begins at 5am when I leave for the gym, I am at my desk by 745am, and I work until 430pm before driving the 1/2 hour to 45 minutes home (traffic dependent).
In the evenings, I attend school part-time, grocery shop, or go house-hunting with Handsome, since we are currently looking for a home (which will no doubt be yet more of a black hole in terms of my time, since I hear houses require maintenance and other ugly things). Sometimes, I make us some sustenance or toss in a load of laundry, although Handsome has taken over most tasks for me... right down to hand-feeding me homemade rice krispy treats while I crunch numbers for my finance class. Since we're new to the area, we're also trying to make it outside of the apartment now and then to make some friends, or explore the delightful city nearby (free museums! art shows! bike trails! great restaurants! theater!).
In other words, I haven't written a word in two weeks, other than this blog... and when I'm not even managing to write any fiction for myself, the blog itself seems a bit fraudulent.
You know, the journal I kept when I was a teenager was filled with angst, but I didn't realize the online one about writing was going to be quite this full of angst itself.
Oh well. Now that I'm settled into a schedule, I can work on carving out some time to write. Perhaps I can find someplace near work to take my laptop over lunch once a week, Maybe in the morning... nah, there's no way I'm getting up even earlier than 5am. Next idea. Maybe I can take a night off to myself to sneak off and write, or carve out a regular weekend date with the muse. I'll figure it out. I have to. I'm making progress on a lot of other goals right now, but not towards this "career novelist" bit.
However, right now, I have my homework done, my gym bag and lunch packed for the morning, and a sweet half-hour to myself. So I am going to go and try to make the most of this time, even though I barely know where to begin.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I read a short story when I was in high school that I can only describe as a cautionary tale for writers. It was the story of a woman (set in the pioneer days, oddly enough, as I remember), who is so busy raising her kids and taking care of the farm and whatnot that she never has time for writing. Instead, she lays pretty paper away in a drawer for someday when she has time. When her children have grown up and moved on, and she finally has free time, she brings out the paper, sharpens her pencil...
She can't think of a thing to write. Her writing gift has slipped away throughout years of neglect.
As a writer, I was alternately unsettled and outraged by this story. We all procrastinate -- that's the one sure thing about every writer (after all, we wouldn't write fiction if we didn't spend plenty of time daydreaming!). I hated the idea that, just because we were too busy for a week (month/year/decade), we might be able to lose the craft. Lose a little dexterity with dialogue or scene, perhaps; forget a thread that ran through a story, maybe. But not lose the idea of story itself.
I still think this is true. I think we should write now not because we'll lose our very ability otherwise; the only reason to write now is that you'll only tell this story, this once. Now when a memory is fresh or an emotion raw, now when there's a particular news story you're mulling over that will play out in your prose; now when you've just overhead a funny snippet of dialogue in the grocery that you'll find a place for. Write now so that you won't lose today's little details, the strange directions that today's thoughts can take you towards.
But if you don't manage to write today? If there's a big work deadline or a friend needs you or you have the stomach flu?
Well, then, there will be a whole different set of little details, a whole new story to tell, tomorrow.
**Bonus points for any reader can tell me the author or title for the story described above -- I've been wracking my brains and googling, but I am at a loss.**
She can't think of a thing to write. Her writing gift has slipped away throughout years of neglect.
As a writer, I was alternately unsettled and outraged by this story. We all procrastinate -- that's the one sure thing about every writer (after all, we wouldn't write fiction if we didn't spend plenty of time daydreaming!). I hated the idea that, just because we were too busy for a week (month/year/decade), we might be able to lose the craft. Lose a little dexterity with dialogue or scene, perhaps; forget a thread that ran through a story, maybe. But not lose the idea of story itself.
I still think this is true. I think we should write now not because we'll lose our very ability otherwise; the only reason to write now is that you'll only tell this story, this once. Now when a memory is fresh or an emotion raw, now when there's a particular news story you're mulling over that will play out in your prose; now when you've just overhead a funny snippet of dialogue in the grocery that you'll find a place for. Write now so that you won't lose today's little details, the strange directions that today's thoughts can take you towards.
But if you don't manage to write today? If there's a big work deadline or a friend needs you or you have the stomach flu?
Well, then, there will be a whole different set of little details, a whole new story to tell, tomorrow.
**Bonus points for any reader can tell me the author or title for the story described above -- I've been wracking my brains and googling, but I am at a loss.**
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I'm a long distance runner. I ran track and cross-country in college, and I've run two marathons since. I'm currently training for the next. Distance running fills a void for me, because I find myself with little time in my day-to-day life for the daydreaming that is, I think, an essential part of writing. A nice six-mile run gives me the chance to go internal for a bit, let my mind wander.
I have a Nike t-shirt I wear that says: "If you started running when you started talking about it, you'd be done by now". It's true, the hardest part of running is often stopping, finding athletic socks, my iPod and my keys, and making it out the door. I love to talk running (obviously), but all the anecdotes from the past don't count for much if I don't hit the streets today.
Writing is the same - it's often easier to talk about than to do. It can be much more fun to tell someone your story's plot and to describe your beloved characters than to sit at your keyboard by yourself re-writing that damn paragraph four times because it just doesn't work quite right. And just like with running, there are a million other distractions that can keep you from getting out the proverbial door. When I hit a rough scene, I sometimes find myself thinking, "Wow, I should really put a load of laundry in/tidy the living room/start my homework/go for a run/update my blog".
I think I'm going to tape a post-it note to my computer that says, "If you started writing..."
I have a Nike t-shirt I wear that says: "If you started running when you started talking about it, you'd be done by now". It's true, the hardest part of running is often stopping, finding athletic socks, my iPod and my keys, and making it out the door. I love to talk running (obviously), but all the anecdotes from the past don't count for much if I don't hit the streets today.
Writing is the same - it's often easier to talk about than to do. It can be much more fun to tell someone your story's plot and to describe your beloved characters than to sit at your keyboard by yourself re-writing that damn paragraph four times because it just doesn't work quite right. And just like with running, there are a million other distractions that can keep you from getting out the proverbial door. When I hit a rough scene, I sometimes find myself thinking, "Wow, I should really put a load of laundry in/tidy the living room/start my homework/go for a run/update my blog".
I think I'm going to tape a post-it note to my computer that says, "If you started writing..."
Friday, May 29, 2009
I posted The Perfect Girl, a short story of mine, a few weeks ago. One of my fellow bloggers suggested that I try submitting it to Flash Me, a flash-fiction 'zine (and thanks for the suggestion, Stephanie! It may not have worked out, but ideas for new markets are always much appreciated). I think it's a pretty good short story.
So, while I'm never heartbroken to get a rejection letter - it's just part of the trade - I was a bit surprised by the editorial commentary that came with it.
EDITOR 1: No. This didn't hold my interest.
EDITOR 2: No. This started off rather well, but the ending was childish
and immature, completely ruining the piece.
EDITOR 3: No. This needs a thorough proofreading, and the end is
psychologically unsound.
EDITOR 4: No. The beginning of this reads like a character sketch, and as
far as characters go, Ali isn't particularly interesting. The ending
didn't work for me either, mostly because of the awkward transition in
mood.
Usually when I get a rejection letter, I wish there was a bit more explanation of why my piece didn't work. Now I'm thinking, be careful what you wish for!
You can read the short story in the post here.
So, while I'm never heartbroken to get a rejection letter - it's just part of the trade - I was a bit surprised by the editorial commentary that came with it.
EDITOR 1: No. This didn't hold my interest.
EDITOR 2: No. This started off rather well, but the ending was childish
and immature, completely ruining the piece.
EDITOR 3: No. This needs a thorough proofreading, and the end is
psychologically unsound.
EDITOR 4: No. The beginning of this reads like a character sketch, and as
far as characters go, Ali isn't particularly interesting. The ending
didn't work for me either, mostly because of the awkward transition in
mood.
Usually when I get a rejection letter, I wish there was a bit more explanation of why my piece didn't work. Now I'm thinking, be careful what you wish for!
You can read the short story in the post here.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Happy Memorial Day! Oftentimes, this seems like National BBQ and Beer-Drinking Day (Which, actually, sounds like a very worthy holiday in its own right).
But, as much as I love grilled chicken and cole slaw, I do always find myself thinking of the people I've lost. At twenty-five, I've already seen more than one friend die too young. But the greatest personal loss for me has been my father, who died when I was seventeen.
The interesting thing is how much that loss has affected my writing. I haven't written a story since that included two parents. My novel, SHARDS, is based on my memories of losing Dad in high school (with extended what-if scenarios, of course, but some scenes are purely mine in the midst of the fiction). The independent reader book I wrote before was about a girl who has lost her mother to cancer.
The day that my father died, I was getting ready to go to the hospital. It was spring, and the lilac bushes in our backyard were fragrant, the scent drifting into the house on a soft breeze as I washed dishes at the sink. I heard the front door open and I knew. I walked slowly into the living room with the dish towel in my hand. My mother was in the doorway with her arms full of flowers carried home from the hospital.
And one way or another, I've been writing about that day for the last eight years. I guess we write what we know. But I worry that there's only so much I should write about grief, that I should try to branch out and talk about college, travel, marriage. I have such a wonderful life. Why do I always find this one subject slipping into my work?
But, as much as I love grilled chicken and cole slaw, I do always find myself thinking of the people I've lost. At twenty-five, I've already seen more than one friend die too young. But the greatest personal loss for me has been my father, who died when I was seventeen.
The interesting thing is how much that loss has affected my writing. I haven't written a story since that included two parents. My novel, SHARDS, is based on my memories of losing Dad in high school (with extended what-if scenarios, of course, but some scenes are purely mine in the midst of the fiction). The independent reader book I wrote before was about a girl who has lost her mother to cancer.
The day that my father died, I was getting ready to go to the hospital. It was spring, and the lilac bushes in our backyard were fragrant, the scent drifting into the house on a soft breeze as I washed dishes at the sink. I heard the front door open and I knew. I walked slowly into the living room with the dish towel in my hand. My mother was in the doorway with her arms full of flowers carried home from the hospital.
And one way or another, I've been writing about that day for the last eight years. I guess we write what we know. But I worry that there's only so much I should write about grief, that I should try to branch out and talk about college, travel, marriage. I have such a wonderful life. Why do I always find this one subject slipping into my work?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
I've been thinking lately about how much about my writing I've been putting up on the interwebs. Details on my novel-in-progress, SHARDS, including plot elements, character names, even chunks of the story. Past short stories I've written (and have submitted... ooh, I might have to pull PERFECT GIRL off the interwebs, now that I think of it). It may not be the "smart" thing to do.
But I am an "information wants to be free" believer. The type of person who thinks record labels should get with the program, because we are willing to support the artists - just on our own terms. The type of person who reads books off the Gutenberg Project website and thinks it is the most awesome thing ever.
So I'm going to go ahead and put my writing out there, too. Because my stories also want to be free.
But I am an "information wants to be free" believer. The type of person who thinks record labels should get with the program, because we are willing to support the artists - just on our own terms. The type of person who reads books off the Gutenberg Project website and thinks it is the most awesome thing ever.
So I'm going to go ahead and put my writing out there, too. Because my stories also want to be free.
Friday, May 15, 2009
It's been a fun-filled week. Driving 12 hours a day some days... at which point, even Handsome begins to really get on my nerves... with some fun stops like Nashville, TN and a great blues bar, B.B. King's, and Coyote Ugly's; Charlotte, NC and the U.S. Whitewater Center (we rode an unbelievably fast, 35 MPH zip line, went rock climbing and white water rafting, which was a great break from being in the car) and Virginia Beach, VA, to meet friends and enjoy the (cold) beach.
But I've been getting some work done, too - mostly outlining work since the car seems more conducive to outlining than actually typing away on my laptop.
I did not outline my first draft of SHARDS. Which may or may not be how it ended up at 127,000 words by the time I finished, two months later than planned, but that is neither here nor there.
I have a neat two-page outline in my File Of Stuff To Send Out To Agents (also, a one-page and seven-page, since everyone asks for something different), but now that I am re-writing, I feel I need a more comprehensive outline for myself. Especially since I've decided to do a major renovation of SHARDS (sigh), but want to keep a lot of the same scenes and dialogue when possible. This may be difficult, though, since I want to change around some of the bones of the story and remove an entire subplot.
For someone as obsessive as I generally am, you'd think I would have an outlining method down, but no. I started off by outlining by chapter, i.e.:
Chapter Four: April goes home to Conner, her live-in boyfriend. She tells him that she ran into Nick, with whom she had a “thing” in college, and Conner says, “I sense lies of omission.” She asks him how he can be with someone he does not trust, and he admits he doesn’t know. April listens to her phone messages, and has a call from her mother, complaining that she never sees her. She deletes it, thinking that most mothers and daughters probably like each other, which is why they actually talk. Still, she adds “Call Mom” to her mental to-do list – a list which most certainly does not include calling Nick.
But then, I realized I needed to separately outline my key plot points and the subplot points, so that I could change these elements without having to look at each individual chapter. I'm finding that is helping me to focus on what my actual story is, i.e.:
Primary plot: Man against self. After telling many painful lies while covering up her father’s assisted suicide, April takes comfort in twisting the truth to make the world (and herself) seem better. However, her pathological lying endangers her relationship with her boyfriend, Conner, her seat in medical school, and even her sense of self. April tries to stop lying and tell the truth, but one more lie is always so tempting. To undo all the damage, she will eventually tell the truth about everything, including admitting that she helped her father commit suicide, which makes her vulnerable to her estranged mother and her competitive peers. But through this vulnerability, she strengthens her relationship with Conner, begins a dialogue with her mother again, and realizes that how the rest of the world sees her doesn't matter all that much.
It's hard work outlining a novel. Not the creative buzz of the writing itself, not the business thrill I feel when doing the grunt work of mailing out submissions. And I still don't know if I'm doing it "right". I guess only the finalized manuscript will tell.
What system have you developed for outlining a novel? Are you the type to wing it, or do you work with a full outline from Day 1? And how does your outline fit into your re-write?
But I've been getting some work done, too - mostly outlining work since the car seems more conducive to outlining than actually typing away on my laptop.
I did not outline my first draft of SHARDS. Which may or may not be how it ended up at 127,000 words by the time I finished, two months later than planned, but that is neither here nor there.
I have a neat two-page outline in my File Of Stuff To Send Out To Agents (also, a one-page and seven-page, since everyone asks for something different), but now that I am re-writing, I feel I need a more comprehensive outline for myself. Especially since I've decided to do a major renovation of SHARDS (sigh), but want to keep a lot of the same scenes and dialogue when possible. This may be difficult, though, since I want to change around some of the bones of the story and remove an entire subplot.
For someone as obsessive as I generally am, you'd think I would have an outlining method down, but no. I started off by outlining by chapter, i.e.:
Chapter Four: April goes home to Conner, her live-in boyfriend. She tells him that she ran into Nick, with whom she had a “thing” in college, and Conner says, “I sense lies of omission.” She asks him how he can be with someone he does not trust, and he admits he doesn’t know. April listens to her phone messages, and has a call from her mother, complaining that she never sees her. She deletes it, thinking that most mothers and daughters probably like each other, which is why they actually talk. Still, she adds “Call Mom” to her mental to-do list – a list which most certainly does not include calling Nick.
But then, I realized I needed to separately outline my key plot points and the subplot points, so that I could change these elements without having to look at each individual chapter. I'm finding that is helping me to focus on what my actual story is, i.e.:
Primary plot: Man against self. After telling many painful lies while covering up her father’s assisted suicide, April takes comfort in twisting the truth to make the world (and herself) seem better. However, her pathological lying endangers her relationship with her boyfriend, Conner, her seat in medical school, and even her sense of self. April tries to stop lying and tell the truth, but one more lie is always so tempting. To undo all the damage, she will eventually tell the truth about everything, including admitting that she helped her father commit suicide, which makes her vulnerable to her estranged mother and her competitive peers. But through this vulnerability, she strengthens her relationship with Conner, begins a dialogue with her mother again, and realizes that how the rest of the world sees her doesn't matter all that much.
It's hard work outlining a novel. Not the creative buzz of the writing itself, not the business thrill I feel when doing the grunt work of mailing out submissions. And I still don't know if I'm doing it "right". I guess only the finalized manuscript will tell.
What system have you developed for outlining a novel? Are you the type to wing it, or do you work with a full outline from Day 1? And how does your outline fit into your re-write?
Saturday, May 9, 2009
But hopefully, not too much of an adventure.
Today Handsome and I leave to drive cross-country from California to Virginia. We love Cali, but this is a career-precipitated move. Another bonus for a writing career: you can write virtually anywhere. In sunny SoCal. In Singapore. In Ireland... *Escapes into blissful daydreams for a moment*
Anyway. Back. We've much enjoyed the year and a half we spent out here: going to the beach after work to boogie-board, dinner parties and hot tubbing with friends, kayaking on the Pacific, exploring the cute little seaside towns, and finding our favorite restaurants. This is where I learned how to play soccer and how to live with someone else. We bought our wedding rings together in the L.A. jewelry district, and most importantly, we married on the beach a bit north of San Diego. SoCal will always have a bit of my heart.
But I'm excited to start the next chapter of our lives. We're planning to buy a house in VA, and if all works out, that's where... far, far down the road... we'll hopefully expand our family with some little hellions and a puppy. In the mean time, we have D.C. to explore, new friends to make, new hobbies and volunteer work to experience. It's an exciting move.
First, though, we have to get there. This is our first cross-country trip together; I drove out on my own and he flew out to join me before. During my drive from east to west coast, I stayed in some horrendously sketchy, rundown motels. The worst had the peep hole in the door busted out, and a wad of paper towels stuffed in; the completed deserted Denny's next door (at 7pm) did little to calm my disquiet about the place. I had already gotten a room in another motel when I noticed the flashing GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS sign at the classy establishment behind. I also got snowed into Amarillo, Texas, for two days -- and I don't think there's much to do in Amarillo regardless, but certainly not in the midst of a blizzard.
This time, I don't plan to stay anyplace that looks like a movie set for a horror film (though that's dependent on whatever we can find along the highway, unfortunately); in fact, I don't want to stay anywhere that doesn't have a hotel gym and complimentary wi-fi. And given that it's May, I think we should be safe from blizzards.
I'm hoping that this trip has its interesting moments, but isn't quite an "adventure". I wouldn't mind meeting a few interesting characters and seeing the odd curious sight, but I'd like to avoid weather, car problems, and anything that reminds me of a Freddie Kruger film. Mmmkay? Oh, and no domestic tiffs, either -- Handsome should be a good husband and let me curl up in the passenger seat with our duvet to sleep through our 10+ hours a day of driving.
I''ll be posting along the way if I get the chance, but if not -- we should be in VA in a week. May the muse be with you!
Today Handsome and I leave to drive cross-country from California to Virginia. We love Cali, but this is a career-precipitated move. Another bonus for a writing career: you can write virtually anywhere. In sunny SoCal. In Singapore. In Ireland... *Escapes into blissful daydreams for a moment*
Anyway. Back. We've much enjoyed the year and a half we spent out here: going to the beach after work to boogie-board, dinner parties and hot tubbing with friends, kayaking on the Pacific, exploring the cute little seaside towns, and finding our favorite restaurants. This is where I learned how to play soccer and how to live with someone else. We bought our wedding rings together in the L.A. jewelry district, and most importantly, we married on the beach a bit north of San Diego. SoCal will always have a bit of my heart.
But I'm excited to start the next chapter of our lives. We're planning to buy a house in VA, and if all works out, that's where... far, far down the road... we'll hopefully expand our family with some little hellions and a puppy. In the mean time, we have D.C. to explore, new friends to make, new hobbies and volunteer work to experience. It's an exciting move.
First, though, we have to get there. This is our first cross-country trip together; I drove out on my own and he flew out to join me before. During my drive from east to west coast, I stayed in some horrendously sketchy, rundown motels. The worst had the peep hole in the door busted out, and a wad of paper towels stuffed in; the completed deserted Denny's next door (at 7pm) did little to calm my disquiet about the place. I had already gotten a room in another motel when I noticed the flashing GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS sign at the classy establishment behind. I also got snowed into Amarillo, Texas, for two days -- and I don't think there's much to do in Amarillo regardless, but certainly not in the midst of a blizzard.
This time, I don't plan to stay anyplace that looks like a movie set for a horror film (though that's dependent on whatever we can find along the highway, unfortunately); in fact, I don't want to stay anywhere that doesn't have a hotel gym and complimentary wi-fi. And given that it's May, I think we should be safe from blizzards.
I'm hoping that this trip has its interesting moments, but isn't quite an "adventure". I wouldn't mind meeting a few interesting characters and seeing the odd curious sight, but I'd like to avoid weather, car problems, and anything that reminds me of a Freddie Kruger film. Mmmkay? Oh, and no domestic tiffs, either -- Handsome should be a good husband and let me curl up in the passenger seat with our duvet to sleep through our 10+ hours a day of driving.
I''ll be posting along the way if I get the chance, but if not -- we should be in VA in a week. May the muse be with you!
Friday, May 8, 2009
I was just wondering what the protocol is on borrowing another poet's line as the jumping-off point for your poem, or writing a response to their poem. Is it still publishable? Or is it just a lame writing exercise?
Because I have two poems I've written I don't know what to do with. One was written in response to Robert Frost's "Love and a Question", and one was written with a first line of Emily Dickinson's, "Bring me the sunrise in a cup..."
And if I can't do anything with them, I want to know why I wasted my time. :p I've never been a fan of the "imitation" school of writing that various teachers and professors have had me practice over the years.
Here's "Love and an Answer", my response to Robert Frost's. In his poem, written from the man's perspective, he is keeping some secret from his loving wife in an attempt to protect her.
She sat by the firelight, bending over her little work
And her needle went steadily, as he paced by the door.
She sat before the open fire, dreaming happily of him
And her skin flushed pink before the reflected heat.
She looked up often, and he would smile back
But his eyes were worried, and she bit her lip to think.
So she laid her work by her side, and went to him
As he stared out on the darkened road.
She took his big hand in her two and asked to know
And he just shook his head, wishing to keep
Her heart ever as happy and bright as it were then
Her face ruddy from the fire, her lips warm to touch.
And then darkness fell a little, into those pretty eyes
To think that there were secrets he would keep
And thought he wanted only to bear this burden
Even without knowing it had become her own.
He felt the rift, that separating his pain from her’s
Was to deeply separate himself from her,
And so he told her, with a shiver from the open door
And she pressed her warm body against his.
Because I have two poems I've written I don't know what to do with. One was written in response to Robert Frost's "Love and a Question", and one was written with a first line of Emily Dickinson's, "Bring me the sunrise in a cup..."
And if I can't do anything with them, I want to know why I wasted my time. :p I've never been a fan of the "imitation" school of writing that various teachers and professors have had me practice over the years.
Here's "Love and an Answer", my response to Robert Frost's. In his poem, written from the man's perspective, he is keeping some secret from his loving wife in an attempt to protect her.
Love and An Answer
Inspired by Robert Frost’s Poem
Love and A Question
Inspired by Robert Frost’s Poem
Love and A Question
She sat by the firelight, bending over her little work
And her needle went steadily, as he paced by the door.
She sat before the open fire, dreaming happily of him
And her skin flushed pink before the reflected heat.
She looked up often, and he would smile back
But his eyes were worried, and she bit her lip to think.
So she laid her work by her side, and went to him
As he stared out on the darkened road.
She took his big hand in her two and asked to know
And he just shook his head, wishing to keep
Her heart ever as happy and bright as it were then
Her face ruddy from the fire, her lips warm to touch.
And then darkness fell a little, into those pretty eyes
To think that there were secrets he would keep
And thought he wanted only to bear this burden
Even without knowing it had become her own.
He felt the rift, that separating his pain from her’s
Was to deeply separate himself from her,
And so he told her, with a shiver from the open door
And she pressed her warm body against his.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I know, this is supposed to be a writing blog. But occasionally I am probably going to veer off into my personal life. If that doesn't entertain you, feel free to skip over posts like this one and I will be back to business tomorrow. :) I justify recording these events as the little things that eventually make their way into inspiration and then story form.
Yesterday, Handsome and I were driving to our favorite Mexican restaurant (mm, quesideas and raspberry margaritas). When we exited the highway, we saw a man standing on the corner with a sign that said, "Hungry - please help."
"Do you want to stop off and buy him a burger?" Handsome asked.
I agreed that sounded like a good idea. We know a lot of the homeless kids in our area, so we sometimes give them food or money, but this was the first time we'd stopped off to buy food for a homeless stranger. We discussed the etiquette of it as we pulled into a Carl's Jr -- should we flag him down first and then pay for his order? Or just pick up food and then run it back to him? in the end, we decided to just order him a combo meal and bring it back.
Well, I still don't know about the etiquette, but I do know about the practicality of it. When we emerged with a bag of fast food and a Coke and walked down the street to the highway entrance, there was no more homeless man. We walked down the road a little further, wondering how he could have gotten out of sight so quickly (maybe our fast food wasn't all that fast).
So there we are, with good intentions, dinner plans, and a bag of fast food we don't know what to do with.
"Where are the homeless people when you need them?" I asked Handsome, because I am always very sensitive.
We walked back to our car and decided to drive down to the beach, looking for someone homeless. And as we parked our car, a man sat down on a park bench right in front of us. He was older, wearing a dirty fatigue jacket with a long beard. But... was he homeless? Would we be complete jerks if we went up and asked him if he wanted Carl's Jr?
"You do all the talking," I warned Handsome.
"Okay," he said. So we walked over to the park bench. "Um, do you want some Carl's Jr?"
"No," the guy said. Oh. Okay. Nevermind. Fall back and regroup...
"Okay," Handsome said. We started to move away, and then the guy said, "Well, maybe. Did you have extras or something?"
We explained the story of the disappearing homeless man we'd hoped to give the meal to.
"Well," he said. "I guess I can eat it. Okay. I'll eat it."
"Great," we said. We gave him the bag and the Coke.
As we started to walk away, he called, "God bless you!"
We're still not sure if he was someone who needed food or if he just wanted to end our awkward search. But I'd like to think we still managed to do a good thing that day, even if we bumbled it. Hopefully, we're in service of some higher power that's a little more slick than we are.
Next time we see someone asking for food, though, I am going to ask what he'd like and either bring him with us or tell him not to go anywhere! Handsome would like to take it a step further and bring them into our restaurant with us, but I'm not sure how that would go over. He is inspired by this project. And maybe it's not a bad idea. Probably someone living on the streets can use not just dinner, but someone to talk to.
And, tying this back to writing, the novelist in me thinks it might not be a bad idea, either. Pushing our personal boundaries could change our perspective, challenge our cherished beliefs, inspire our best writing. I know that's how, for better or worse, I've made some decisions for my life -- not, what's the smart thing to do here? but, what's going to make the better story to tell? Remarkably, I am still alive, and maybe a little bit more interesting of a person, as well.
Yesterday, Handsome and I were driving to our favorite Mexican restaurant (mm, quesideas and raspberry margaritas). When we exited the highway, we saw a man standing on the corner with a sign that said, "Hungry - please help."
"Do you want to stop off and buy him a burger?" Handsome asked.
I agreed that sounded like a good idea. We know a lot of the homeless kids in our area, so we sometimes give them food or money, but this was the first time we'd stopped off to buy food for a homeless stranger. We discussed the etiquette of it as we pulled into a Carl's Jr -- should we flag him down first and then pay for his order? Or just pick up food and then run it back to him? in the end, we decided to just order him a combo meal and bring it back.
Well, I still don't know about the etiquette, but I do know about the practicality of it. When we emerged with a bag of fast food and a Coke and walked down the street to the highway entrance, there was no more homeless man. We walked down the road a little further, wondering how he could have gotten out of sight so quickly (maybe our fast food wasn't all that fast).
So there we are, with good intentions, dinner plans, and a bag of fast food we don't know what to do with.
"Where are the homeless people when you need them?" I asked Handsome, because I am always very sensitive.
We walked back to our car and decided to drive down to the beach, looking for someone homeless. And as we parked our car, a man sat down on a park bench right in front of us. He was older, wearing a dirty fatigue jacket with a long beard. But... was he homeless? Would we be complete jerks if we went up and asked him if he wanted Carl's Jr?
"You do all the talking," I warned Handsome.
"Okay," he said. So we walked over to the park bench. "Um, do you want some Carl's Jr?"
"No," the guy said. Oh. Okay. Nevermind. Fall back and regroup...
"Okay," Handsome said. We started to move away, and then the guy said, "Well, maybe. Did you have extras or something?"
We explained the story of the disappearing homeless man we'd hoped to give the meal to.
"Well," he said. "I guess I can eat it. Okay. I'll eat it."
"Great," we said. We gave him the bag and the Coke.
As we started to walk away, he called, "God bless you!"
We're still not sure if he was someone who needed food or if he just wanted to end our awkward search. But I'd like to think we still managed to do a good thing that day, even if we bumbled it. Hopefully, we're in service of some higher power that's a little more slick than we are.
Next time we see someone asking for food, though, I am going to ask what he'd like and either bring him with us or tell him not to go anywhere! Handsome would like to take it a step further and bring them into our restaurant with us, but I'm not sure how that would go over. He is inspired by this project. And maybe it's not a bad idea. Probably someone living on the streets can use not just dinner, but someone to talk to.
And, tying this back to writing, the novelist in me thinks it might not be a bad idea, either. Pushing our personal boundaries could change our perspective, challenge our cherished beliefs, inspire our best writing. I know that's how, for better or worse, I've made some decisions for my life -- not, what's the smart thing to do here? but, what's going to make the better story to tell? Remarkably, I am still alive, and maybe a little bit more interesting of a person, as well.
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