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It’s All In Where You Look
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
— E.L. Doctorow
It was the fall of my freshman year of high school that I fell in love with E.L. Doctorow. I was fourteen, and that was…too many years ago now to admit to. My English teacher had a few shelves of books she considered ‘should reads’ and loaned them out. As it happens, I”d read most of them already, but then I discovered Ragtime sitting there. The cover back then was a plain, solid color – rust as I recall – with the title in retro script across the top. I took it home. I was still reading in the wee hours that night. Lunch was forgotten the next day, and by the time 6th period rolled around I was, reluctantly, returning it to the shelf. Even now, all these years later, I still feel nostalgic when I think of it.
All that (ancient) history I present simply to explain why I picked the above quote. It’s a bit of synchronicity at play. I am now reading Bird By Bird, by Anne Lamott. I am only a few chapters in, but loving it so far. She mentioned this quote and it really hit home with me.
So often, when the urge to write a book hits us, we face an initial panic at the idea of writing something ‘that long’. How will we ever think of enough to fill two or three hundred pages? How will we ever figure out a whole storyline? The first blank page then looms huge, becoming overwhelming while we try to see all the way to the end, even as we are typing Chapter 1 – the heading, not the actual text.
That’s when these wise words can make all the difference. We need to focus on what we can see, what we are writing right now. What happens in this scene? What makes it important? How will it advance the characters? Is it believable and will it pull the reader in, make them feel as if they are really there? Focusing on what’s in the headlights, the scene before you, will make it happen. And that scene will lead to the next, and the next….and before you know it, you’ve made the whole trip. Enjoy the ride.
Food For The Soul
I’ll admit it. From the moment I saw the previews for the movie Julie & Julia, I wanted to see it. I cut my teeth on Julia Child’s PBS show. My grandfather was a fan and we rarely missed it. Years later, she did some shows with Jacques Pepin, another favorite chef of mine, and I was glued.
I loved the movie. It tells the story of Julie Powell, a blogger who set out to cook her way through Child’s The Art Of French Cooking in one year. She had a lot of ups and downs but eventually made it, blogging all the way about her experiences. They interspersed the modern day story with episodes from Child’s life in France starting in the 1940’s when she began to pursue cooking and attended the prestigious Cordon Bleu school.
It follows her life through the long road of writing the book with her collaborators, but more than this, it told the story of her life with her husband Paul. They led a close and touching life together, and a long one. And while I enjoyed the parts about Powell, I was far more drawn to the story of Julia’s life. She was strong-willed and determined and refused to give up her dream. Eventually she got exactly where she wanted. A great lesson in there for all of us.
I also greatly enjoyed all the food talk in this movie. Yes, I am a foodie. I freely admit it. I should get a t-shirt to warn people so they won’t wonder when I am in a restaurant and admire the sauce or swoon over the way my dinner is arranged on a plate. My husband is just as bad. He has a habit of arranging things on plates and never fails to delight. I asked him once why he never became a chef and he replied that it would then become a job and not as much fun. I, on the other hand, have been a restaurant manager in one of my former lives. I did it all from bartending, to overseeing wait staff, to paperwork, to filling in on the line when we were short a cook. It was a fun, chaotic, and exhausting time but I’m glad I did it. I learned a lot about food and cooking.
I suppose it hails back to my southern upbringing. Cooking was not something we did for utility purposes, it was a labor of love. We cooked in big batches, just in case anyone stopped in. We baked cakes and pies and delivered them to friends and neighbors ‘just because’. When tragedy struck, we were there with food so the family would be spared that job to focus on what was important. We believed that good food fed the soul.
I still do. So, I’ve since pulled out my copy of The Art Of French Cooking. Once my current work in Progress is done, and the rush is over, I’m digging in.
Friday Fiction: Please Welcome Special Guest, David Bridger!
I am excited to share a guest blog post from first-time published author, but long-time writer, David Bridger. I met David on the Romance Divas Forum and was impressed by his sense of humor, ease of writing style, and his friendliness. When his first book got published and he asked for publicity from other Divas, I jumped at the chance.
Here, then, is author, David Bridger, talking about his experiences writing Beauty and the Bastard. Enjoy!
From Soup to Nuts
Beauty and the Bastard is my first published work of long fiction, but it’s far from being the first thing I’ve written.
I was thirteen years old when I decided I would be a writer. In fact, an inspiring English teacher called Mr. Watson told me I already was one, and urged me to work hard in order to turn potential into reality. Three years later I tried to write my first novel. But within a few hundred words I realised my self-conscious style would be no substitute for a lack of substance, so I went away to live a bit of life before trying again.
I went away to sea, actually, and those years of sailing the world proved fertile for my imagination. My second bash at writing a novel came ten years after the first, and that time I finished a Chapter One while sliding up and down mountainous seas in the Arctic Ocean.
It was embarrassingly autobiographical and horribly self-indulgent. I’d lived a bit of life, but my writing skills were no more developed than they had been when I was thirteen, so I filed that chapter under B for Bin and vowed to learn how to write novels when I retired from sea.
Ten years later, I was ready to start. I’d come home injured and was destined to spend several years regaining mobility. Life went from “crazy busy” through “traumatic” to “scarily quiet” very quickly, and alongside my program of physical recovery I dedicated most of my mental energy to learning how to write fiction.
My first completed novel was a paranormal family saga. It was a big story with a big wordcount. I know now that it was another self-indulgent one, and it’s unlikely to ever see the light of day, but it was my apprenticeship and it served me well. It was the platform upon which I checked out various online writing communities.
I joined Forward Motion and Litopia, and also discovered an informal community of writers and readers on LiveJournal. I learned from sharing crits with my pre-published peers, from reading the blogs of multi-published authors, and from taking workshops.
That network of support and encouragement helped me write my second novel, an urban fantasy which I think is good enough to be published. It’s out there on submission now. If it’s picked up, it might become the first book in a series.
As I neared the end of that one, it occurred to me that both my completed novels contained romantic elements. Strong romantic elements. I sat back and took a good look at this aspect of my writing.
I’ve always been a romantic. Many sailors are. Until that moment I’d never thought of myself as a romance writer, though. Maybe that’s what I was. I didn’t know, but it was worth checking out, so last summer I joined Romance Divas.
It was a defining moment in my career. Within a few weeks, I knew I’d not only found a new and wonderful writing home to add to my existing ones, but that I’d also discovered my writing identity. And the workshops there! Wow! They’re pure gold dust!
I found Romance Divas at exactly the right time for me. Things fell into place naturally, and I found focus at the same time as I discovered my most natural voice.
One direct result of all this was Beauty and the Bastard. It was like riding a storm. I fell in love with the two main characters and lived their adventure with them. After years of experimentation with rapid drafting and suchlike, I’d already learned that my best method is to outline lightly then write my best quality draft straight off. When I added to that my newly-discovered voice, I found myself writing with strength and confidence I’d never known before. I immersed myself in it and loved every moment.
I hope my readers will love it too.
PS. I can’t help smiling when I say “my readers”. I don’t believe that will ever get old.
And here’s a little teaser for the novel:
Saul the Bastard is a fallen angel who works as a bounty hunter for powerful urban demon families. Rebecca Drake, a modern day demon princess, is being hunted by dangerous desert demons. When Rebecca’s family hires Saul to protect her, they are both unhappy with the arrangement, but before long sparks fly as they try to resist their strong mutual attraction. For the first time in living memory, Saul has someone to love; someone he is scared of losing; someone the desert demons have marked to be their next sacrifice.
Now available from Liquid Silver Books: Beauty and the Bastard.
Writer’s Block or Artistic Balance?
A few recent evenings and weekend afternoons have given me the perfect opportunity to work on my fiction WIPs. To my surprise, that didn’t happen. The sense of urgency to tell stories wasn’t there.
I think it’s a combination of things. For one, I’ve decided not to break my neck to get published at this time. Honestly, the pressure to work 40 hours a week for a regular paycheck is too great. I can’t see doing that, writing, AND promoting myself to the satisfaction of publishing houses, e-book or otherwise. So I’ll hone my craft and keep feelers out for the right opportunity. Can you read my optimism? I’m happy to find it there.
In the meantime, Friday night I watched a movie. Saturday and Sunday mornings, I devoured an e-book and pecked a little at a new story. Sunday afternoon found me setting up Thursday thirteen blog posts for weeks into the future. That felt good and I enjoyed some random research.
Last night, fully intending to tell story, I instead read another m/m romance. This bit of fluff wasn’t as substantive as the one last weekend but left me with a warm and fuzzy HEA. That’s never a bad thing. So, I’ve decided not to beat myself up.
Rather than feeling blocked, I sense a balance against the extensive creative output that flowed for weeks prior. I hope you can say the same, and wish you the best on whatever creative input or output you enjoy! It will be interesting to see where my instincts lead tonight.
Thursday Thirteen
Happy Thursday! Please stop by for some random fun.
Cruel & Unusual ~ An Artist’s Trials
Honoring my commitment to follow “The Artist’s Way” from beginning to end, I opened my copy of Julia Cameron’s guide Sunday afternoon. Never quite knowing what to expect from these highly spiritual messages, I had been warned of a week in which artists are advised not to read, particularly for pleasure or to waste snippets of time. Well, I discovered that this is it, week four.
I didn’t foresee that being a tremendous hardship, not for a mere seven days. It came as a surprise to discover just how often I grab a book when settling down to some mindless physical task. Discovering this addiction to the written word has become my first real epiphany through the Artist’s Way and made me want to examine the habit more deeply.
I remember that the tendency started before I could even decipher the English alphabet. My mother likes to remind me how her little girl would sit on the potty training seat flipping through a catalog or magazine, admiring the neat lines of print as much as the pictures. At the breakfast table, the outside of cereal boxes became as much a staple as the contents. When finished with whatever interested me, I would consume the ingredients list. This appetite always seemed like a good thing, and it is. However, I do understand the goal of abstinance.
By resisting a constant stream of input, we stop sedating the creative mind with others’ thoughts and ideas. Already, the AW exercises received more attention this week because they gave me something to do besides open the novel I’m currently reading. I actually enjoyed undertaking those assignments and hope this might inspire a new level of commitment to Ms. Cameron’s process.
As I am composing this on Monday, we shall see how the rest of the week goes. I passed two difficult tests so far, restraining myself from pouring over what two talented colleagues have recently composed. One of these treasured individuals didn’t know about this temporary restriction and actually emailed story snippets for something to brighten my workday. She graciously understood my reason for not being able to read, which is turning out to be a real trial!
It’s just a good thing I didn’t read “The Artist’s Way” any earlier than I did on Sunday. Being forced to set aside Kimberly Gardner’s novelette “Phoenix Rising” halfway through would have truly been cruel and unusual punishment.
Thursday Thirteen
Wiley Wednesday: How To See the Forest If You’re a Tree Person
As a right-brained and big-picture thinker, it surprises me when I throw a whole bunch of ideas at someone and I see their eyes widen in panic and they blurt, “You don’t want to do all that right NOW, do you?” I’m not a naturally cruel person, and causing this kind of stress in my friends, colleagues, and fellow writers is saddening. Which brings me to my topic for today’s Wiley Wednesday.
If you are a tree person, and like things in digestible chunks without a lot of extra fluff out of nowhere, then read on. I shall attempt to demystify the forest way of thinking in order to bring harmony between the two camps.
The first thing to remember when dealing with a forest person, if you are a tree person, is that brainstorming is fun. Forest people like to sit above the tops of the trees, sometimes so far above them that we don’t even know what kind of tree – we might not even know if they’re evergreen or not! This is fun for us. This is agony for you. We don’t know this, and so we go on, gleefully describing how that forest over there looks from a distance, and this one there, and did you know there’s a whole ocean on the other side?
The key to brainstorming is to remember, there are no bad ideas, and that the word “No” stops the process in its tracks. This is painful to a forest person. If the tree person can simply say to themselves, here they go again, and let the forest person natter on about their ideas and be enthusiastic, this will lead to harmony. The forest person will usually take their own notes, but it is absolute heaven to us when a tree person decides to jot down our ideas. We think, “You get it!” Reality is, according to the tree people I know, that it’s out of self defense when the tree person is asked, “Weren’t you listening last month when I had the idea for the child seat company??” If you just bucket these ideas for a rainy day, much in the way of a collection of coins, it will go a long way to diffusing the tension.
The second thing to remember when dealing with a forest person is that sometimes one needs to clarify, is one speaking as a forest person, or is the forest person working with the details of the here-and-now? My husband, for example, is a tree person. I need to remind him, “I’m talking about the forest here,” so that he knows to disconnect from the idea that I’m suggesting we do all these things right now. This type of communication is necessary when dealing between the two camps, because the tree people I know assume that the forest person is speaking about details and the here-and-now OR they assume that the forest person expects the tree person to sort out all the details right now. Neither is usually the case.
The third and final thing to remember is that forest people like to throw out a lot of ideas and see what sticks. For example, when I was proposing some ideas for my writing group, I tossed out a blog, another blog, a print newsletter, a steering committee… Initially, I gathered other forest people to see what excited them. Then, when presenting it to the group’s founder, I went more slowly in a step-wise fashion. It paid off in the long run, since Debbie Cairo, a tree person, and I have now started a not-for-profit writing group and have held our first annual conference. Debbie said to me the other day that she’s figured out that I like to throw out a lot of ideas, and I’ve said to her that I don’t expect her to DO everything I suggest – I’m just seeing what interest there is for possible future directions. Plus, it’s a way for me to find interest among our membership in our ideas, and maybe a member will step forward and run with the ball – as Nancy Bockoven has done with our ShopNotes blog. (Which, if you haven’t checked it out recently, please do so – she’s done an amazing job on it.)
If you are a forest person, and you’re reading this, please remember that when dealing with a tree person, they’re not being purposely stubborn and resistant to your ideas. They simply are hearing them as something you want them to do, RIGHT NOW. That sense of urgency, to a forest person, is enthusiasm. To a tree person, it can feel like pressure. If we can learn to spell out where we’re coming from, we’ll get much more cooperation from both sides and avoid having to cut down the whole forest, so there aren’t any more pesky trees.
After all, it takes a lot of trees to make a forest, right?
Happy Wednesday!
At War with My Mouth
Have you ever flippantly mentioned that you’re a writer and then seriously regretted it? I guess it goes without saying that I have. At my day job a while back, someone I rarely see wondered why I have a thesaurus on my desk. Feeling bold, I replied honestly, never thinking much about my confession even through a few follow-on questions. Apparently I was in a manic mood phase, for I don’t recall the exchange at all, neither his queries nor my answers.
Fast forward to this morning, the guy walks in. His greeting was not what I expected. “How’s your writing coming?”
Brilliantly, I said, “What?” When he repeated the question, I managed a semi-coherent reply about much-needed rewrites going well over the holiday weekend. He didn’t stop there, of course, and I could feel my cheeks heat the instant he asked what kind of stories I write.
This man, who looks like he could be my grandfather, appeared to have no idea what erotica is. When I explained that it’s romance with steamy bits, he asked if I had any stories with me. I flat out lied and said no, even though every single tale I’ve penned for the last several years is on the thumb drive in my laptop bag, not to mention the laptop!
He didn’t seem to notice my discomfiture, even when I told him in so many words that it is embarrassing to hand over my tales face to face. The one and only time I handed a casual acquaintance some pages to read, I nearly had a stroke. And he’s not someone I’m likely to see ever again.
This fellow, on the other hand, will be stopping by my office at least three or four times a month. And he asked me to bring something in for him to read if I remember. How can I convincingly lie every time and tell him all my stories are at home? Do I want to? Not really. Getting up the nerve after he walked away, I wrote my blog website down and stuck the note with his paperwork.
“There”, I thought. “I’m not responsible for anything he reads or doesn’t read.”
The evasiveness felt very honorable in an odd way, even vaguely Japanese in its sensibility. Then I inevitably thought about the matter some more. Why not print out a piece of short fiction without any sex in it? Believe it or not, I do have a few. ~grin~ Well, the end result is that I currently have a two page story tucked away with a note listing my blog stapled to it.
I ultimately just couldn’t go through with handing over anything, not even by sticking the sheets in his paperwork slot and sneaking out to avoid seeing him. What if he’s homophobic? Quite a bit of my material addresses gay relationships. Even the ficlet I printed out focuses on two men in love, whether or not it stands out in this particular vignette.
Odds are that I’ll see this man in another week or so. The last thing I need at work is the added stress of a business contact reading sensual stories and thinking of me. Any suggestions? Should I hand over a copy of “War and Peace”?