Thoughts on The Artist’s Way

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by
In Julia Cameron’s book “The Artist’s Way”, one of the issues she brings up for blocked artists is poisonous relationships. They can come in many forms from a non-supportive parent or spouse to a jealous acquaintance who tears down your artistic attempts at every turn.

Struggling with a bit of my own blight, I realize how fortunate I am. The gang here is wonderful, as well as others in my life, both on the internet and off. Even a coworker who knows of my passion for writing has expressed interest and gentle concern.

As a result, I’m taking baby steps toward picking up the pen again. I owe a lot of thanks to the folks who have helped by giving me pressure free challenges. You gals rock!

Is there anyone in your life who actively or passively sabotages your creativity? If so, I hope you’ll rethink your friendships and how you relate to family. I definitely recommend reading Cameron’s book and wish the best for you!

Now I’m off to type up something I wrote during the wee hours of the night. The opportunity actually makes me grateful for a brief and rare bout of insomnia.

Wiley Wednesday – Battling Through the Doldrums

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by
I’ve been suffering a bit of something I am loathe to name and honestly never expected would happen to me to such a degree – writer’s block. There are multiple insidious reasons for this. And I think I’m wallowing in it as opposed to using the tools available to me from sources like “The Artist’s Way”.

Just yesterday, though, I enjoyed a minor breakthrough via a responsibility to write something for this very blog. Instead of struggling, I went with my ennui and started a moody little piece. It worked so well that I managed nearly a thousand words, which used to be my daily goal.

To my satisfaction, the ending even took a bit of an upturn. The entire experience, albeit a small step, lightened my mood somewhat. And isn’t that the ultimate goal of creativity?

One lesson I need to take from this is that only I can remove my block. Another is that I can put words on the page without fighting against my mood. Third, joy can be found in the small projects as well as the large.

Best wishes to you on your road to satisfying creation!

Dear Sarah

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by
My feather touch stilled the spinning ballerina. Dulcet tones ground to a low chirrup as I closed the lid. Playing the music box always put my daughter right to sleep. Nothing else worked as well.

Except she no longer rested her sweet head in this bed. The canopied top fluttered gaily in the spring breeze. I washed all the bedclothes just the day before, careful to clean out the dust while preserving the pastel unicorns and rainbows.

Tears burned my eyes. Why was she taken from me?

Us, I mentally corrected.

I still didn’t know whether to blame fate or some higher power. There always seemed plenty of time to sort out my adult faith before I tried to instill any sort of beliefs in our little girl. Some sort of church waited for that future agenda.

Kat, poor baby, you never even got to attend Sunday School, let alone do all those other things we planned for you.

“Sarah, I’m home. Where are you?”

I froze, debating what excuse to use. Chester already strode down the hall. I jerked my hand from the music box and began brushing imaginary dust off the shelf.

“Sarah? Sarah, she’s gone, babe. When are you going to accept that?”

Never. “I’m sorry it’s taking me so much time, Ches.”

“Don’t apologize. Although you must admit it would help if we cleared out all this stuff.”

Imagining he really wanted to say “junk”, I bristled. My vehemence sent my long hair flying about my face.

“You have to move on,” he crooned, gesturing to the shelf now supporting my balance. “We should start with this thing. Some needy little girl would love to own something like her music box. It’s the way Kat would have wanted it, I’m sure.”

Our fingers met on the pink and cream colored wood. I moved to pull Kat’s birthday gift protectively toward my chest. I didn’t want to give it up.

Unfortunately, Chester’s grip didn’t relent as expected. Neither of us won our sudden tug-of-war. Instead, my stubbornness sent the little case spinning.

My left hand shot out but my attempt backfired and I smacked the falling ojbect away. Instead of bouncing harmlessly across the carpet, Kat’s beloved music box struck the wall.

Crack!

I think I moaned – a guttural sound. Several pieces rattled along the plaster and baseboard.

End over end, the helpless ballerina flew. I, in turn, flew out of the room, my husband’s cry of apology not stopping me. Meaningless words, an expletive, and my drawn-out name followed me through the house. I scooped my purse from the end table and tore through the front door, my feet pounding down the concrete steps.

What am I doing? The music box is just a thing. My eyes blurred. But she loved it.

I reached my car and nearly bruised myself against the side, momentum and adrenalin pushing me forward. My hand felt numb as I fished for my keys. I stabbed the one for the sedan into the driver’s side door lock. It somehow seemed faster than finding the right button on the fob.

Chester reached the swinging screen door. Sad eyes pleaded with me to stay.

The engine roared to life. Barely checking for oncoming traffic, I roared into the street and drove away.

Eventually I got somewhat lost, knowing that I’d find my way if only my head would quit pounding so I could think. A convenient parking lot offered a place to stop and get my bearings, to calm down.

“Kat’s Attic”, the sign proclaimed. I shut off the engine and got out, clinging to my handbag.

What the heck.

I began wandering the aisles, breathing in a scent that reminded me of my late mother’s childhood home. My frugal but doting grandparents forever kept their same furnishings and trinkets. Some of what I saw would have fit in perfectly. Mom would have liked this, though not as much as she would have loved being a grandmother, herself.

Determinedly I swallowed back that old sorrow and inhaled the aroma of aged wood. I detected a touch of mustiness, without the cloying choke of real rot, and it took me back to playing in the basement at my grandfather’s side while he puttered in his workshop.

Then I saw the item least expected. Lifting the lid, I watched the tiny dancer spin on her toe.

“That just came in today,” an unfamiliar voice proclaimed. “I bought out an estate sale from the weekend. There’s a nice set of jewelry from it if you’re interested. The lady must have had the box as an adult, oddly.”

I jerked my head around and beheld a kindly face. “I’m just looking, really. I suppose these music boxes aren’t that uncommon but it’s exactly like one my daughter… my husband and I… have… had… at home.”

For a moment the lady, presumably Kat, looked speechless. I wanted to slip through the cracks in the floor. Finally, she spoke.

“There’s an inscription if you turn it over, though I don’t know why I’m telling you that. The words couldn’t mean anything to you. I’m not even sure what they mean, exactly, though they sound tragic. Anyway, I’m Kat if you need anything.”

I turned the box over and read.

Dear Sarah, always remember that God keeps close the little children. Love, Momma, Grandma, and Grandpa

Ten dollars bought the music box. The priceless message brought peace of mind. Chester and I cleaned out Kat’s bedroom that weekend, keeping certain things and donating those useful to charity.

The little ballerina stayed on the shelf ever since, even as we brought in a crib for Kat’s new baby sister. I only wish they could have met.

Wiley Wednesday: Music and Editing

Writer Zen Garden Posted on by

Getting Back In the Mood

I’ve been working on editing my first book, which comes out later this year from Samhain Publishing. I wrote it with my coauthor, Rachel Wilder. While we work together extensively, when I’m at my keyboard working on edits it’s usually by myself. Since we wrote Burning Bright last year, we’ve developed two new series in very different universes, as well as wrote more material in the Burning Bright universe but with other characters. So how do I recapture the mood I was in when first writing Burning Bright?

One of the ways, obviously, is to re-read the manuscript. But since the first draft was 87,000 words, that’s not the fastest method. Add to that the fact that we’re required to do multiple content edits (three in this case, since it was our first time with this editor), re-reading the manuscript doesn’t help me capture the mood I need so that I know what to cut from the manuscript.

To solve that problem, I use music. I develop specific playlists for novels and series, targeted to the specific characters and the world we’ve created. While I sometimes use the music my husband and I own in our library, I find Pandora online radio to be exceedingly valuable because it will develop “stations” based on artists or songs, and then give back songs that are related to it – but that I may not (and quite probably don’t) have in my library.

Which makes it like a stranger’s library.

In other words, it is like my character is a separate person from me, and I’m listening to their music choices. I don’t have to make them up, because Pandora does it for me.

How do you do this? Visit the Pandora website. You can either set up a free account (which is all I have at the moment), or you can subscribe to Pandora One for $36 USD a year. If you decide to use the free version, you can listen, with ads, for 40 hours a month. When you hit about 35 hours, it will tell you that you’re approaching the limit and offer to upgrade you, or tell you that your free time is over until the next month begins.

Unfortunately, I don’t believe the service works outside the U.S. (a fellow writer in Canada said she’s not able to access it), because of the record company’s strict licensing requirements. (Too strict, in my opinion.) But if you are in the states, you can sign up and develop stations based on particular artists or songs – and their mix is VERY eclectic. It’s not just mainstream music.

If you don’t have access to Pandora, then iTunes Genius does the same thing, using similar technology. It will use music you already own, or suggest stuff to buy, which is why I don’t use it (I don’t have extra music money in my budget for this, which is why I like the free Pandora service).

Are there other music services out there that you like? Other ways you use music in your writing? Tell me in the comments, I’d love to hear!