Opening the Window

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Julia Cameron in her book “The Artist’s Way” likens opening our minds to gradually wedging open a door. I think of that today because I decided to open the window so I could hear the birds.

Doing that simple act made me wish it were so easy to let in story ideas and create. I did succeed in writing a short story today, but I noticed with the window open that a lot more than birdsong entered my room. There was traffic sound from the road and industrial noise from a nearby factory, but my brain filtered those out for the most part so that I could hear the cardinals sing and the squirrels chatter.

The same works for our creativity. We need to filter out distractions. Sometimes that might mean getting a nuisance chore out of the way so we can focus. For other situations, we might need to shut the door on unimportant matters for a while.

For me, at least, creation comes from a place of peace. I’m learning to cultivate a sense of that by uplifting important matters to a higher significance and balancing out the rest the best I can. I hope you manage to do the same.

Work, Work, Work – Darla’s Whiny Wiley

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Back on October 13th of last year I posted a Wiley titled “Show Instead of Tell”. It’s something I continue struggling to improve. The latest evidence of my battle is in a story written about a year ago. I decided to put forth this tale in a mentoring program without having looked at it for some months.

The results were eye opening, to say the least. A humbling critique on a single page from the middle of the story completely floored me. Apparently I failed not only to show instead of tell but didn’t always convey the scene particularly well.

My inner critic is telling me that I should just go back to writing stories for my own pleasure and forget trying to publish. It’s a very tempting proposition. After all, I’ve not actively sought publication outside of one short story being included in a science fiction anthology. I honestly enjoyed writing a lot more before learning anything about the business end.

Either way, the important thing is to keep creating. And I’ll look at my mentorship piece as a diamond in the rough. Whatever I decide to do with the finished product, I’m going to make myself work through this manuscript with the hope of becoming a better writer.

Well, it’s time I go back to polishing. However you choose to create, I hope you enjoy yourself!

Review of “Remastering Jerna” by Ann Somerville

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As I begin typing this I have to say that I closed the cover on this book less than five minutes ago. What a bittersweet moment! “Remastering Jerna” is riveting from beginning to end. Even the most difficult passages were written so expertly as to keep me reading. And I don’t call them difficult for some minor heartache – there is rape and torture during the prison scenes that chilled my blood.

Tears came to my eyes once, for certain, so I can’t say it’s a lighthearted beach read. If you can tolerate pages of angst to read about realistically trusting dominance and submission, though, please don’t hesitate to pick up this novel. Erotic power exchange has never been better represented, in my opinion.

As the book wastes no time in gloriously presenting, Jerna’s journey feels so authentic that I could almost imagine him being someone possible to meet in real life. His flaws are believable and forgivable, making him someone I would like to know. Granted, that’s often the case with even books I find mediocre because characterization is my number one passion for reading. This gem, however, offers much more than good characters.

The book moves at a good clip, taking us through a few years of the man’s life. I never felt cheated as Ann Somerville manages to encapsulate months of time by taking a microscope to deeply emotional events. Then she slows things down for the most pivotal plot points with a graceful alteration that never left me feeling disoriented.

Before I tout what is perhaps the greatest treasure of “Remastering Jerna”, though, I have to add more about the population of Jerna’s world. I am really pleased and impressed to say that at no point did I confuse any of the people, even with their fanciful names. That’s saying something when Ms. Somerville includes such an extensive cast. And our hero! I dare anyone to tell me they can’t empathize with Jerna’s periods of pain and hopelessness. And just when you feel utter despair descending, a surprise twist dangles hope in Jerna’s path.

Short of spoiling the book, I have to say that this ending is one of the best I’ve read in a long time. Unlike many authors, Ms. Somerville doesn’t cheat with a smug happily-ever-after or even happy-for-now. She addresses every thread of import in the book and wraps them into a beautiful and satisfying bow. Thank you, Ann Somerville, for sharing your talent with the world.

Just do it

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Creeeak.
Grooaannnn.
SqueeakGroanCcreeeak.
Those are the sounds I hear in my head as I flex my writing muscles for the first time in a while.  It’s amazing how little time it really takes for a good coating of rust to form in the creative machinery of the mind.
There are a lot of reasons I haven’t been writing, some valid, and some pretty lame.  Like anything else, writing is a habit that is built over time and, once broken, can be hard to pick back up again.

For me, the process actually started yesterday.  Which is not to say I wrote yesterday.  Far from it, in fact.  I did absolutely nothing yesterday except sleep and watch tv and read.  I rested my arm (which has been physically preventing me from writing for any length of time) and I rested my mind.  I pet the cat and ordered Chinese food and watched recordings on the DVR.
Today, the fact that it’s now after 5pm and I’m only just starting to write has more to do with the Critic, I think, than anything.  I did sleep late again, which made my cat very happy.  But even when I got up, feeling quite a bit more rested than yesterday, I still couldn’t make myself open the laptop.  Partly there was some real concern over how my arm would react, and partly writing just seemed like so much work.  In fact, the closer I got to actually writing the more my heart started pounding.
So I went on an Artist’s Date instead.  The walk to Whole Foods is nothing new, but it has become something that I associate in my mind with opening up the creative brain and preparing to work.  I bought new flowers for my table, and some oranges.  Then I moved my laptop to the table so I could hopefully position my hands better and have less irritation of the nerves.  And, of course, I can see and smell the flowers.
So, finally, here I am.  Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard, and writing.  It’s slow, and not particularly inspired, but it’s something.  And it’s yet another reminder of how important it is to just keep putting one word after the other, regardless of what else is going on in my life.
I don’t have to write 1,000 words a day.  I don’t have to write a half a page, even.  As many times as I have come home feeling like crap and then ended up with 400 or 500 words just because I opened the Word document and let the momentum build as I went along, you’d think I would have learned the lesson by now. 
So, to remind myself as much as anyone else, here’s what I know.  Sometimes you just have to buckle down and push the obstacles and excuses out of your way.  If they need handling, then deal with them.  If they don’t, then set them down and move on.  Then just write.  Something.  Anything.  Put fingers to keyboard or pen to paper and just do the work.
Here’s to all of us, writing.