It is Wednesday, which means we are halfway through the standard full-time work week. Of course, if you are a writer, or a single mom, there is nothing standard about a work week. I get the fortunate task of being a normal working adult with a 9-5 type job and then I add in that I am also a single mother to an 11-year old who is often smarter than me and always moving, it is a bit like trying to pin down a cloud, and if that made you think I was bored, let's add that I also am a writer who is writing her first novel. Whew! I need a nap after typing all that out and just thinking of it.
The fun part of all of that is that it is always changing. Oh, the job is the same, the kid is the same and the writing is still getting written but the movements and tasks and feelings are changing. For my job in politics and fundraising you can imagine the changes that I can experience from one day to the next. All the interesting projects, creative campaigns and issue tracking that gets done. Then, if you have kids you will understand all the movements and changes that happen with them to keep a parent on their toes. Just watching them grow day to day is amazing. An 11 year old has school and guitar lessons and doctor appointments and science projects and interests that may not be yours that you have to learn to keep up with....well it gets pretty exciting. I have never known as much about mythology in my life and I credit all that to my son.
My son is also at the point where he is changing and almost a teenager but still a kid. His thinking is becoming deeper and his opinions stronger, his actions more aware and his desires heavier. He is on the edge of becoming a teenager but still looking back and liking the protection of being a little kid. He is almost ready to cut through the ropes and be independent but not quite. As a parent it is fascinating to watch the transition, and a little scary.
My writing is also at the cusp of being on a new point. The action is about to change. The location is about to cross waters and travel back in time. In a sense all the changes make me think it is like having a constantly moving job or a constantly moving kid. It also experiences changes and fluctuations. It grows up just as your child does.
I am in the middle of my novel now and as I was doing a little research for it found my original outline and creative plan for the whole novel. I had been on the phone with my mother later that day and laughed when I told her that it is not the same book almost. Oh, the premise is the same but the actions and sequences have progressed in a much different manner. Even, my characters are different than envisioned. My astute mother was quick to point out that characters become like real people and people are unpredictable and do their own things so why shouldn't a character.
I thought about what she said after that call and she will be so happy to hear but she is right. She doesn't realize how right she is. I dream about my characters as if they are real people with real lives. As I write this book I feel as if I am following along with their lives as well and have at times felt as if I were writing their memoirs than a fictional story. I can predict what my characters will do but until I start to write the story I really can give no guarantees.
So, I sit at my table looking at my old outline and I give a bit of a chuckle to myself. I feel that the story has progressed in a different direction but it is a better story. The characters have grown more than I had originally planned but they are more realistic and grown up. I was not upset by the changes in my story but rather revelled in them. My story is progressing and growing and that is when it hit me. My story is a teenager. I am in the middle of my novel now and the true action is going to start to take place within a couple more chapters. A teenager often feels that their lives start the moment they leave home and head out on their own as if this action packed life will suddenly befall them and be exciting and exhilarating. Well, my story is a teenager.
I am close to the point where the action will increase and change. The location will change. The characters will have to adjust. The story will have to move to incorporate these differences. The story itself is growing and revolving and moving. As I stared down at my writing last night I gave a small smile to myself because my novel is growing up. I welcome being in the middle of the novel and all the changes and will not forget where my story initiated but I welcome the teenager factor of my novel. Wish me luck, I have a pre-teen son at home and now a budding teenager novel. Life is exciting.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Warning: Writer With Realization
Happy New Year to everyone and thank goodness the holidays are done. We can all return to normal routines again. Of course, it is fun celebrating and people are nicer during the holidays but it is a stressful time also. Now of course, when you go to the gym it is packed full of New Year's resolutioners. I personally do not make resolutions during the New Year but try to make them throughout the year always to try and be happy or better my situation or even just get by.
In fact, as I looked back over 2011 that is why I started to write my first novel. Last year was a rather rough year for many people and I would be included in that list. I remember it was the end of July and I had already had the idea for my novel for a long while. Actually, I have ideas for many novels but I thought about this one idea the most. Sometimes it is easy to have a dream but the hard part is actually making it happen. I am sure many of the New Year's resolution people find that statement very true because usually by the end of January the gym is back down to the regulars and those that made their resolutions have gone back to their usual routines or have even forgotten they made a resolution. The hard part is doing the work.
For a writer like myself who wrote poems and short stories the idea of a novel was daunting. I had the idea but to actually start writing was a whole other issue. That is where the first word comes in handy. It was the end of July and it was very hot outside and I had the doldrums one day. I sat on my porch that evening and wondered what would make me happy when there is stress and frustration all around me. I went back inside and found a notebook. Luckily I keep notebooks and pens and paper always on hand. I went back outside and sat down at my porch table. My son was asleep inside and this was the time I usually took for myself. Of course if you sit there just thinking that can be dangerous.
Well, this night there was a light breeze for the first time all week and the stars were shining in the sky real bright. I opened my notebook and just started writing. I realized what I was writing was my novel and have not stopped since. It was starting the work of writing and making it part of my routine that helped get me through 2011 and made me realize another of my dreams in life. If you read my last blog you will see that I am also a single mother and I have a full time job so some of the hard part in writing is just finding a spare moment to do that. I have gotten a little better about finding those moments because I resolutely decided not to give up on this dream.
When you start to write your first novel it is exciting. One of the things I have noticed though is that most people encourage you and the ones that don't or try to make you face reality often ask, "So what kind of writer do you want to be?" Well, even if they are trying to throw ice cold water on your warm blanket dream it is an important question to ask yourself. So as I reviewed last year and my writing recently I thought about that very question:
"What type of writer did I really want to be?" or "Why do I really write?"
For me the simple answer was easy. I write because I have to. When you dig deeper into that though...ok I feel like I need a couch and Dr. Freud sitting over me with a notebook right now...but the answer may make you a better writer. At the end of the day we can not all be a Danielle Steele or J.K. Rowling. I use those examples because they too were single mothers fighting to pay bills and sat down and wrote and are now world renowned. In an ideal world we can all write one novel and then quit our job and become famous and rich and just spend our time writing and going to book readings of our own material. For me fame was not the end goal or why I write. Not that it would not be nice but really I write to entertain people. I do want people to read my work so I would like to be published. Some people write and have no intention or care for being published. I will admit I would like to be published and would love to be sitting on the train commuting into work one day and look over and see someone reading my novel. I realistically have kept that full time job but I also continue to write and love that I get to share it with a fellow commuter into work.
So the answer is that I write because it makes me happy and is a large part of myself and my personality and character but also because I would like to entertain and tell a story. I may not sell a million novels or get printed overseas or even make a lot of money but maybe there is at least one person out there who will read what I write and be entertained. I am a storyteller with a pen. I may not be as big as Paul Bunyan in the writing world and may ever only be as small as The Littles (one of my favorite cartoons when I was little about a family of mice) but I am writing and getting my stories out and now I know what kind of writer I want to be.
Warning: Writer has reached realization...prepare to be entertained. At least that is my wish. If you are not, well, don't worry I will continue to write and may win you over eventually. So, grab a comfortable chair, a warm cup of tea, and enjoy because I have a story for you to read.
In fact, as I looked back over 2011 that is why I started to write my first novel. Last year was a rather rough year for many people and I would be included in that list. I remember it was the end of July and I had already had the idea for my novel for a long while. Actually, I have ideas for many novels but I thought about this one idea the most. Sometimes it is easy to have a dream but the hard part is actually making it happen. I am sure many of the New Year's resolution people find that statement very true because usually by the end of January the gym is back down to the regulars and those that made their resolutions have gone back to their usual routines or have even forgotten they made a resolution. The hard part is doing the work.
For a writer like myself who wrote poems and short stories the idea of a novel was daunting. I had the idea but to actually start writing was a whole other issue. That is where the first word comes in handy. It was the end of July and it was very hot outside and I had the doldrums one day. I sat on my porch that evening and wondered what would make me happy when there is stress and frustration all around me. I went back inside and found a notebook. Luckily I keep notebooks and pens and paper always on hand. I went back outside and sat down at my porch table. My son was asleep inside and this was the time I usually took for myself. Of course if you sit there just thinking that can be dangerous.
Well, this night there was a light breeze for the first time all week and the stars were shining in the sky real bright. I opened my notebook and just started writing. I realized what I was writing was my novel and have not stopped since. It was starting the work of writing and making it part of my routine that helped get me through 2011 and made me realize another of my dreams in life. If you read my last blog you will see that I am also a single mother and I have a full time job so some of the hard part in writing is just finding a spare moment to do that. I have gotten a little better about finding those moments because I resolutely decided not to give up on this dream.
When you start to write your first novel it is exciting. One of the things I have noticed though is that most people encourage you and the ones that don't or try to make you face reality often ask, "So what kind of writer do you want to be?" Well, even if they are trying to throw ice cold water on your warm blanket dream it is an important question to ask yourself. So as I reviewed last year and my writing recently I thought about that very question:
"What type of writer did I really want to be?" or "Why do I really write?"
For me the simple answer was easy. I write because I have to. When you dig deeper into that though...ok I feel like I need a couch and Dr. Freud sitting over me with a notebook right now...but the answer may make you a better writer. At the end of the day we can not all be a Danielle Steele or J.K. Rowling. I use those examples because they too were single mothers fighting to pay bills and sat down and wrote and are now world renowned. In an ideal world we can all write one novel and then quit our job and become famous and rich and just spend our time writing and going to book readings of our own material. For me fame was not the end goal or why I write. Not that it would not be nice but really I write to entertain people. I do want people to read my work so I would like to be published. Some people write and have no intention or care for being published. I will admit I would like to be published and would love to be sitting on the train commuting into work one day and look over and see someone reading my novel. I realistically have kept that full time job but I also continue to write and love that I get to share it with a fellow commuter into work.
So the answer is that I write because it makes me happy and is a large part of myself and my personality and character but also because I would like to entertain and tell a story. I may not sell a million novels or get printed overseas or even make a lot of money but maybe there is at least one person out there who will read what I write and be entertained. I am a storyteller with a pen. I may not be as big as Paul Bunyan in the writing world and may ever only be as small as The Littles (one of my favorite cartoons when I was little about a family of mice) but I am writing and getting my stories out and now I know what kind of writer I want to be.
Warning: Writer has reached realization...prepare to be entertained. At least that is my wish. If you are not, well, don't worry I will continue to write and may win you over eventually. So, grab a comfortable chair, a warm cup of tea, and enjoy because I have a story for you to read.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Jane Austen: Writer And Superhero
Merry Christmas to everyone. I hope everyone had a magical day full of happiness. I also wish everyone a wonderful New Year. I am not someone who makes resolutions for the New Year and instead try to make resolutions often throughout the year to be happy or find a way to do that. Yet, as we start 2012 I wish everyone a year of happiness any way that they find it.
Many of you may have noticed, and commented, that I have not posted anything in over a month. That is very true. I have spent that month a bit stressed, busy, tired and pulled in a million different directions. Most of that involves work but the holidays added to that. I did not get a chance to post here on my blog, or write in my journal or even write on my novel. I missed it all. I missed being able to open my pink, leather-bound journal and release the stress I was feeling, coming to my blog and sharing with everyone the process and thrills and horrors I have experienced in writing my first novel, but even more I missed actually writing. I missed writing in my novel and even missed the characters as if they were real people and we are living this story together, which in a sense we are.
Christmas has ended and though work will still be busy and stressful I was able to take a little time and look back at my novel and do some writing on it which exhilarated me. Many of my friends and family laugh at me but when I do get to write it energizes me and I get excited. I was able to find that excitement again. I am in the midst of editing chapter nine and have almost finished writing chapter ten and that thrills me because my characters are back in my life again. We are moving the story along and I am living with them again. So, I am also back on the blogosphere again as well and it is a welcomed return.
This time away from my writing though being caused by my job made me realize how much life can interfere with what we have planned. We all dream as kids of the grand career. For my son it was to be a train engineer. For me, I was going to be a dancer or a writer. My baby sister was going to drive a bus, have ten kids and purple hair and take lots of aspirin. Needless to say not all of us get to do our dream jobs or have our dream lives but as adults try to find little dreams that are similar to keep that joy we had as kids. Writing has always been my dream. My mother used to have a fit with me because I wrote on EVERYTHING! I would write on my clothes, on furniture and on the walls. She was always chasing after me with toothpaste to clean off what I did on the walls.
Sometimes though life interrupts these dreams just as it did when we were kids and our dreams would change or the world would intercede and make them difficult to accomplish. We can either lay those dreams down and never pick them up again, we can change them to work around the difficulties or we can use the difficulties to push us forward in what we really want. I would love to have that rare movie image of a writer where I sit in my beautiful home on the beach where my office and work space looks out over the ocean and vacation in the south of France for inspiration. That is not the reality though.
The dictionary defines reality as something that exists independently of all other things and from which all other things derive. I don't know that I really like that definition. To me that means our dreams and reality are separate. The dream is that I want to be a writer and do that full time. The reality is that it takes work to be a writer and it isn't like in the movies. You have to love writing to really be a writer and consider yourself a writer.
This past Christmas I got one of the best presents I may have ever gotten in my life. It was a book from my boss titled Writer with a Day Job by Aine Greaney an Irish author. I love this book. It gives exercises writers can do to help them in the creative process and gives inspiration to those of us who are the majority of writers. The ones I call superhero writers because we are workers at our job by day. We go to that nine to five job and work hard, we commute with the masses to the office, we maintain the professional persona by day and at night or during our free time, often stolen at lunch or when commuting, we are our superhero persona. We are writers. We are dreamers and psychologists and anthropologists and narrators. We are what writers really are today. Jane Austen would be working as a secretary today for a boss she probably hated and then use that as fodder for her stories. Walt Whitman may have been a construction worker by day and a poet by night. Superman has nothing on today's writers.
To be this superhero type of writer though you have to really love writing in a way that you love breathing. I was unable to write for a month and felt as if I were fading or losing a limb. My pen is an extension of my hand and my story sits and moves in my brain even as I type this. To go a month without writing was necessary for my job but also hard. What I love about my new book is that it gives ideas to help get through the busy times. As I did one day when I snuck out of work for a quick lunch break and went to my new favorite writing spot and in the cold sat outside in front of my Mexican revolutionary ready to shoot, don't worry it is a statue. There I sat and watched the people around me and I wrote in my journal and just that thirty minute break to write revived me more than any medicine and let me get through my week.
So now I wake up early and grab my cup of coffee and my pen and paper or I sit on my train or steal away at lunch and just as Clark Kent would use the telephone booth to change into superman I too go to my spot and change in my superhero character, Anne Brenner the writer. I may not save your cat from a tree or fly you away from danger but my hope is that I am able to entertain you. So as you walk into that coffee house or by the bench with the man sitting in a business suit and a pen and paper in hand you can smile to yourself because superheros do exist and you may have just passed one.
Many of you may have noticed, and commented, that I have not posted anything in over a month. That is very true. I have spent that month a bit stressed, busy, tired and pulled in a million different directions. Most of that involves work but the holidays added to that. I did not get a chance to post here on my blog, or write in my journal or even write on my novel. I missed it all. I missed being able to open my pink, leather-bound journal and release the stress I was feeling, coming to my blog and sharing with everyone the process and thrills and horrors I have experienced in writing my first novel, but even more I missed actually writing. I missed writing in my novel and even missed the characters as if they were real people and we are living this story together, which in a sense we are.
Christmas has ended and though work will still be busy and stressful I was able to take a little time and look back at my novel and do some writing on it which exhilarated me. Many of my friends and family laugh at me but when I do get to write it energizes me and I get excited. I was able to find that excitement again. I am in the midst of editing chapter nine and have almost finished writing chapter ten and that thrills me because my characters are back in my life again. We are moving the story along and I am living with them again. So, I am also back on the blogosphere again as well and it is a welcomed return.
This time away from my writing though being caused by my job made me realize how much life can interfere with what we have planned. We all dream as kids of the grand career. For my son it was to be a train engineer. For me, I was going to be a dancer or a writer. My baby sister was going to drive a bus, have ten kids and purple hair and take lots of aspirin. Needless to say not all of us get to do our dream jobs or have our dream lives but as adults try to find little dreams that are similar to keep that joy we had as kids. Writing has always been my dream. My mother used to have a fit with me because I wrote on EVERYTHING! I would write on my clothes, on furniture and on the walls. She was always chasing after me with toothpaste to clean off what I did on the walls.
Sometimes though life interrupts these dreams just as it did when we were kids and our dreams would change or the world would intercede and make them difficult to accomplish. We can either lay those dreams down and never pick them up again, we can change them to work around the difficulties or we can use the difficulties to push us forward in what we really want. I would love to have that rare movie image of a writer where I sit in my beautiful home on the beach where my office and work space looks out over the ocean and vacation in the south of France for inspiration. That is not the reality though.
The dictionary defines reality as something that exists independently of all other things and from which all other things derive. I don't know that I really like that definition. To me that means our dreams and reality are separate. The dream is that I want to be a writer and do that full time. The reality is that it takes work to be a writer and it isn't like in the movies. You have to love writing to really be a writer and consider yourself a writer.
This past Christmas I got one of the best presents I may have ever gotten in my life. It was a book from my boss titled Writer with a Day Job by Aine Greaney an Irish author. I love this book. It gives exercises writers can do to help them in the creative process and gives inspiration to those of us who are the majority of writers. The ones I call superhero writers because we are workers at our job by day. We go to that nine to five job and work hard, we commute with the masses to the office, we maintain the professional persona by day and at night or during our free time, often stolen at lunch or when commuting, we are our superhero persona. We are writers. We are dreamers and psychologists and anthropologists and narrators. We are what writers really are today. Jane Austen would be working as a secretary today for a boss she probably hated and then use that as fodder for her stories. Walt Whitman may have been a construction worker by day and a poet by night. Superman has nothing on today's writers.
To be this superhero type of writer though you have to really love writing in a way that you love breathing. I was unable to write for a month and felt as if I were fading or losing a limb. My pen is an extension of my hand and my story sits and moves in my brain even as I type this. To go a month without writing was necessary for my job but also hard. What I love about my new book is that it gives ideas to help get through the busy times. As I did one day when I snuck out of work for a quick lunch break and went to my new favorite writing spot and in the cold sat outside in front of my Mexican revolutionary ready to shoot, don't worry it is a statue. There I sat and watched the people around me and I wrote in my journal and just that thirty minute break to write revived me more than any medicine and let me get through my week.
So now I wake up early and grab my cup of coffee and my pen and paper or I sit on my train or steal away at lunch and just as Clark Kent would use the telephone booth to change into superman I too go to my spot and change in my superhero character, Anne Brenner the writer. I may not save your cat from a tree or fly you away from danger but my hope is that I am able to entertain you. So as you walk into that coffee house or by the bench with the man sitting in a business suit and a pen and paper in hand you can smile to yourself because superheros do exist and you may have just passed one.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Turn Off That Music And Let's Talk
Have you ever had a moment when you are listening to someone talk, or rather should be listening, and yet all you hear is sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher, Wah Wahwah Wah Wah! I know people often tell me I am such a good listener, and I may regret letting this secret out, but often my open eyed gaze at you could not repeat back what you said because I was actually listening to the music in my head.
One of the issues with writing a book is getting your idea across but also getting your discussions to appear real and interesting and yet also something that this character you have created would actually say. I once read a book, and I will not list the title or author out of respect, where I had real issues with the characters and their voice. The characters were in an impoverished position in life. They lived amongst the lower class of society. They were poor and uneducated and a bit crass at times. Yet, when they spoke within in the novel and had any type of discourse their language was almost what you would find a university professor to use. They used large, difficult, not found in common language words. For some reason this really infuriated me. To me that is an author trying to show off just how smart he really is by giving his characters words that the reader, no matter how intelligent, would have to look up. Reading with a dictionary type of writing is good for textbooks but not pleasure reading and not when your use of the language in their discussions does not match up with the characters you have created in the readers imagination. The only props I will give this author is that the idea and theme of his book was enough to make you want to buy the book and read it to find out how it played out. The rest is my opinion of course but I think then he lost the reader with his need to be more important than his writing.
Writing in discussions can be interesting but there is a fine line a writer needs to walk. The writer has created characters that, if done properly, need to seem real and relatable. That means that when the reader comes to scenes with discussions and "talk" there are three things that need to be considered.
The trick is getting all these words to line up into a discussion that makes sense and is relatable. That is no different than what everyone does everyday when they are telling a story. When I tell the story about how my Mother wore two different colored and types of shoes to church one day or how my Dad decided to wash clothes in the dryer, I have to make sure the person hearing the story understands. The laughter or response at the end of any discussion assures me that they turned off the radio in their head long enough to not only be amused by my story but because they showed how delighted they were they showed they understood my telling.
When you meet a co-worker at the water-cooler to tell them how your son wore his clothes inside out and backwards you hope for a laugh. If you did not get one it may be because you said, "My eldest offspring decided to garnish himself with vestments that were inverted and astern of him." Even I don't think that is funny because it is not real and relatable. Now, if I were having the same discussion with an Ivy League grammar professor then he may find that funny. Again, it is also based on your audience and not just the words. You change the way you speak based on the person or people in front of you. I have given many speeches to varying audiences and that is important. Now that I am writing this novel, I consider the readers as an audience to a speech and that they all attended for different reasons and are of different backgrounds. I need to try to relate to each one of them.
So I have had to learn to turn the radio off in my own head and listen when people speak. Everyone has their own nuance and mannerism. It is fascinating and often at the end it leads to an open discussion. So if this finds you interested....let's talk about it.
One of the issues with writing a book is getting your idea across but also getting your discussions to appear real and interesting and yet also something that this character you have created would actually say. I once read a book, and I will not list the title or author out of respect, where I had real issues with the characters and their voice. The characters were in an impoverished position in life. They lived amongst the lower class of society. They were poor and uneducated and a bit crass at times. Yet, when they spoke within in the novel and had any type of discourse their language was almost what you would find a university professor to use. They used large, difficult, not found in common language words. For some reason this really infuriated me. To me that is an author trying to show off just how smart he really is by giving his characters words that the reader, no matter how intelligent, would have to look up. Reading with a dictionary type of writing is good for textbooks but not pleasure reading and not when your use of the language in their discussions does not match up with the characters you have created in the readers imagination. The only props I will give this author is that the idea and theme of his book was enough to make you want to buy the book and read it to find out how it played out. The rest is my opinion of course but I think then he lost the reader with his need to be more important than his writing.
Writing in discussions can be interesting but there is a fine line a writer needs to walk. The writer has created characters that, if done properly, need to seem real and relatable. That means that when the reader comes to scenes with discussions and "talk" there are three things that need to be considered.
- Is this something that character based on their personality would actually say?,
- Does this discussion make sense to the story and the plot and move the action forward? Does this discussion even make sense?, and
- How to change the style of discussions based on different characters, environments and actions?
The trick is getting all these words to line up into a discussion that makes sense and is relatable. That is no different than what everyone does everyday when they are telling a story. When I tell the story about how my Mother wore two different colored and types of shoes to church one day or how my Dad decided to wash clothes in the dryer, I have to make sure the person hearing the story understands. The laughter or response at the end of any discussion assures me that they turned off the radio in their head long enough to not only be amused by my story but because they showed how delighted they were they showed they understood my telling.
When you meet a co-worker at the water-cooler to tell them how your son wore his clothes inside out and backwards you hope for a laugh. If you did not get one it may be because you said, "My eldest offspring decided to garnish himself with vestments that were inverted and astern of him." Even I don't think that is funny because it is not real and relatable. Now, if I were having the same discussion with an Ivy League grammar professor then he may find that funny. Again, it is also based on your audience and not just the words. You change the way you speak based on the person or people in front of you. I have given many speeches to varying audiences and that is important. Now that I am writing this novel, I consider the readers as an audience to a speech and that they all attended for different reasons and are of different backgrounds. I need to try to relate to each one of them.
So I have had to learn to turn the radio off in my own head and listen when people speak. Everyone has their own nuance and mannerism. It is fascinating and often at the end it leads to an open discussion. So if this finds you interested....let's talk about it.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Out of Chaos…Hope
Out of Chaos…Hope
A farmer stands looking out over his fields
Angry, lost, scared
No clouds in the sky
The wind blows, the air heavy
The dust sweeps over the land
Barren, dry, dying
Angry, lost, scared
No clouds in the sky
The wind blows, the air heavy
The dust sweeps over the land
Barren, dry, dying
A farmer’s wife steps outside the house
Bruised, beaten, alone
She leans over the dry earth
Digs down deep
And plants the seeds of beauty in the ground
Crying, caring, hopeful
Bruised, beaten, alone
She leans over the dry earth
Digs down deep
And plants the seeds of beauty in the ground
Crying, caring, hopeful
A farmer returns home at night
Hopeless, fearful, hollow
Listens at the door
The sweet voice of his wife
Asking for love, asking for hope
Weeps, releases, prays
Hopeless, fearful, hollow
Listens at the door
The sweet voice of his wife
Asking for love, asking for hope
Weeps, releases, prays
A farmer wakens to a new day
Forlorn, crushed, clinging
Steps outside for another day
Stops stunned, amazed
Blowing in the breeze a single red, audacious flower
Bright, Vibrant, Loud
Forlorn, crushed, clinging
Steps outside for another day
Stops stunned, amazed
Blowing in the breeze a single red, audacious flower
Bright, Vibrant, Loud
A farmer falls to his knees
Released, sobbing, full
Feels the warm, soft arms encircle him
Wrapped around him tight, concerned
Sees her eyes, the love
Strength, devotion, peace
Released, sobbing, full
Feels the warm, soft arms encircle him
Wrapped around him tight, concerned
Sees her eyes, the love
Strength, devotion, peace
A farmer and his wife
Shaking, wanting, believing
Feel the touch
Soft like a feather
Pulsing with the wind
Cool, sweet, clean
Shaking, wanting, believing
Feel the touch
Soft like a feather
Pulsing with the wind
Cool, sweet, clean
And it rained…
A woman sits down in the rain
Hungry, solitary, forsaken
Places her head on her knees
To quiet the noises
To soothe the hunger
Loud, unforgiving, distant
Hungry, solitary, forsaken
Places her head on her knees
To quiet the noises
To soothe the hunger
Loud, unforgiving, distant
A man steps outside
Busy, fast, rushed
Pulls his coat close
Grips his briefcase
Continues to lay the brick for the walls inside him
Forceful, powerful, isolated
Busy, fast, rushed
Pulls his coat close
Grips his briefcase
Continues to lay the brick for the walls inside him
Forceful, powerful, isolated
A woman shivers in the wet, dark streets
Cold, hurt, deserted
Wraps her thin coat tighter about herself
Hoping for warmth
Yearning for love
Shivering, scarred, resigned
Cold, hurt, deserted
Wraps her thin coat tighter about herself
Hoping for warmth
Yearning for love
Shivering, scarred, resigned
A man rushes through the streets
Unaware, unaffected, absent
Brushes past people
In a hurry to get nowhere
In a dash through each day
Impassive, inattentive, thoughtless
Unaware, unaffected, absent
Brushes past people
In a hurry to get nowhere
In a dash through each day
Impassive, inattentive, thoughtless
A woman walks slowly down the street
Whispering, moaning, praying
Reaches out to touch
Pleads with the nameless to feel
Collides into a man, angry and rushed
Shoved, hurt, reeling
Whispering, moaning, praying
Reaches out to touch
Pleads with the nameless to feel
Collides into a man, angry and rushed
Shoved, hurt, reeling
A man walking through the streets
Upset, stopped, stares
Suddenly looks, suddenly notices, suddenly feels
And with gentle hands places his coat
And with gentle words give solace
Soothing, slow, aware
Upset, stopped, stares
Suddenly looks, suddenly notices, suddenly feels
And with gentle hands places his coat
And with gentle words give solace
Soothing, slow, aware
And the rain stopped….
A young woman at the beach
Absent, consumed, misplaced
Sits watching the dark waves crash
Designing the ending of her story
Watching the tempest roll out to sea
Scheming, arranging, intending
Absent, consumed, misplaced
Sits watching the dark waves crash
Designing the ending of her story
Watching the tempest roll out to sea
Scheming, arranging, intending
An aged dog runs along the shore
Happy, carefree, loved
Feeling the wind wash over him softly
Feeling the warmth of the peeking sun
Feeling life running through him
Content, relaxed, free
Happy, carefree, loved
Feeling the wind wash over him softly
Feeling the warmth of the peeking sun
Feeling life running through him
Content, relaxed, free
A young woman at the beach
Troubled, anxious, imprisoned
Struggling inside herself
Haunted by the past
Aware of the void of the future
Confused, numb, dazed
Troubled, anxious, imprisoned
Struggling inside herself
Haunted by the past
Aware of the void of the future
Confused, numb, dazed
A young woman at the beach
Fearful, enraged, searching
Screams out in pain
Cries out for relief
Shouts for attention and care
Loud, forceful, alone
Fearful, enraged, searching
Screams out in pain
Cries out for relief
Shouts for attention and care
Loud, forceful, alone
An aged dog runs along the shore
Aware, knowing, sensing
Hears, feels the agony ahead
Stops short his jovial race
Rests softly next to a young girl at the beach
Quiet, timid, comforting
Aware, knowing, sensing
Hears, feels the agony ahead
Stops short his jovial race
Rests softly next to a young girl at the beach
Quiet, timid, comforting
A young woman at the beach
Awakened, revived, reinvented
Sees again the endless borders of time
Feels again the rays of light like a song
Sits quietly, gently with her new friend
Expectant, hopeful, faithful
Awakened, revived, reinvented
Sees again the endless borders of time
Feels again the rays of light like a song
Sits quietly, gently with her new friend
Expectant, hopeful, faithful
Out of chaos hope again hung over the land. And a rainbow appeared…
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Having A Cold At The Ballet
Over the past week I had been battling a bad cold. I was not mobile most of the week. All I wanted to really do was sleep or just lie around doing nothing. Unfortunately, I am also a single, working mother so that is not always possible. Oh, to be ten years old again, and able to stay home from school and just eat Mom's chicken noodle soup and watch cartoons all day. Well, since that is not possible I trudged forward. I went to work. I took care of the boy. I talked to friends. I also did not do much writing because any spare time was spent lying down and not moving. All I could really accomplished was a lot of thinking doing that.
Many mornings I get on the train for my long commute into work. As I get closer to my stop, I cross over the Potomac River and see the sight of the Washington Monument and the Thomas Jefferson Memorial outside of my train window. I am always amazed by the sights of Washington, DC and the feel of its history as you enter into the city. It is not a large city but as you come across the river you feel its importance. It is not only beautiful to cross over and see the Potomac and the monuments but you can feel the city's largeness of power if not in size.
One morning last week was a bit rainy and the only good thing was that it at least was not cold. It was more of a light rain, you know, enough to make you annoyed but not enough to really make you wet and angry or happy and splashy. Since the rainy weather was not too bad it was nice enough that the rowing teams from the local high schools were out on the Potomac. I love to watch as they work in unison and move smoothly through the water. The way their arms move and the boats glide through the water is like an animal and yet also like a ballet. It is fascinating to watch.
It got me to thinking also. Here were examples all around me of movement. One was of myself and the painful, disjointed movements I was making when I was sick. The other was the beautiful, graceful, synchronized movements of the rowers on the water looking almost as if they were dancing on water. Everyday and everything we do has some type of rhythm or movement associated with it. Even a person laying on a hospital bed has the fluids moving through tubes and the monitor beating in time to the heart.
Writers as well need to have focus on the movement of their pieces. To me when I think of poetry there has to be some fluidity of movement as if it is a modern dance. It moves you along sometimes without you realizing what is really happening within the story. Short stories though would be more quick, staccato movements like an African tribal dance or a tap dance. There is smoothness in it and yet a quickness that leaves you breathless from the feel of the quick beats as well.
As I am writing my first novel though I have noticed that there is a difference of movement for novels. When you write a novel there needs to be more of a slow, graceful, glide of movement through the story process. You don't want to have a quick story that ends up boring the reader with is predictability. Yet, you also don't want it to drag on and on and on and on, well you get my point. You know those stories, yes Tolstoy I am talking to you. It is like attending the opera with your wife and then hoping to sneak out after the first act but your wife keeps you in the seat next to her. Then you spend your time nodding off and dreaming about the bar and getting a drink at intermission just to get you through the rest of the opera or ballet.
Movement can be beautiful though. As your story progresses you think of a ballet or opera. There is a storyline and a sequence that relates to your story without giving out everything. Sometimes, it works to even slide in a surprise action or a funny action that entices the reader. At the end though there needs to be a movement to your story. It can be graceful or harsh or quick but that movement is what our reader brains move to. So the lesson to myself is to keep that in mind as I entice and move my story along. I don't want to be the girl who has a cold and has to watch all the movement of the ballet around her. I want to keep my own story moving and gliding along smoothly so the reader feels the same.
Many mornings I get on the train for my long commute into work. As I get closer to my stop, I cross over the Potomac River and see the sight of the Washington Monument and the Thomas Jefferson Memorial outside of my train window. I am always amazed by the sights of Washington, DC and the feel of its history as you enter into the city. It is not a large city but as you come across the river you feel its importance. It is not only beautiful to cross over and see the Potomac and the monuments but you can feel the city's largeness of power if not in size.
One morning last week was a bit rainy and the only good thing was that it at least was not cold. It was more of a light rain, you know, enough to make you annoyed but not enough to really make you wet and angry or happy and splashy. Since the rainy weather was not too bad it was nice enough that the rowing teams from the local high schools were out on the Potomac. I love to watch as they work in unison and move smoothly through the water. The way their arms move and the boats glide through the water is like an animal and yet also like a ballet. It is fascinating to watch.
It got me to thinking also. Here were examples all around me of movement. One was of myself and the painful, disjointed movements I was making when I was sick. The other was the beautiful, graceful, synchronized movements of the rowers on the water looking almost as if they were dancing on water. Everyday and everything we do has some type of rhythm or movement associated with it. Even a person laying on a hospital bed has the fluids moving through tubes and the monitor beating in time to the heart.
Writers as well need to have focus on the movement of their pieces. To me when I think of poetry there has to be some fluidity of movement as if it is a modern dance. It moves you along sometimes without you realizing what is really happening within the story. Short stories though would be more quick, staccato movements like an African tribal dance or a tap dance. There is smoothness in it and yet a quickness that leaves you breathless from the feel of the quick beats as well.
As I am writing my first novel though I have noticed that there is a difference of movement for novels. When you write a novel there needs to be more of a slow, graceful, glide of movement through the story process. You don't want to have a quick story that ends up boring the reader with is predictability. Yet, you also don't want it to drag on and on and on and on, well you get my point. You know those stories, yes Tolstoy I am talking to you. It is like attending the opera with your wife and then hoping to sneak out after the first act but your wife keeps you in the seat next to her. Then you spend your time nodding off and dreaming about the bar and getting a drink at intermission just to get you through the rest of the opera or ballet.
Movement can be beautiful though. As your story progresses you think of a ballet or opera. There is a storyline and a sequence that relates to your story without giving out everything. Sometimes, it works to even slide in a surprise action or a funny action that entices the reader. At the end though there needs to be a movement to your story. It can be graceful or harsh or quick but that movement is what our reader brains move to. So the lesson to myself is to keep that in mind as I entice and move my story along. I don't want to be the girl who has a cold and has to watch all the movement of the ballet around her. I want to keep my own story moving and gliding along smoothly so the reader feels the same.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Comfort Zone In An Uncomfortable Chair
Today is one of those days that are beautiful and crisp and sunny. Yet, all I want to do is curl in a big overstuffed chair with a blanket, a good book and some jazz music in the background. Maybe my book would actually be my writing notebook but it feels like a good day to write to me.
In football teams are given bye weeks where they have a weekend off from playing. Work has been so busy lately and I have been relaxing in more social ways by hanging out with friends and neighbors that it interrupted my writing a bit. In a sense I had a self-enforced bye week from my blog. While I had this week away though I wrote another poem, started another short story and got into the middle of Chapter Nine of the book. Not too bad!
This week made me think though and one word came to mind often...Location! I know what you are thinking. Wait! You already wrote a post on location. The location of your story becoming like another character with life and dimension and holders of the story. This is not about locations within your story though. This is about finding a spot, a comfortable zone, a location that brings you comfort and becomes your writing place.
This week when I would get home from a long day at work I was tired and the thought of writing did not even cheer me up. The moment I sat down in my writing spot though I would instinctively reach out for my writing notebook and feel my body relax and the words begin to flow out of me again. It is nice having this oasis where I can feel creative.
It does not have to be one spot in your life and that is the only place you should work. In fact, on Saturday I was waiting for my neighbor. I was sitting at her dining room table in an uncomfortable chair that makes me think of one of those outdoor patio chairs. I was wriggling left and right trying to get comfortable in the chair while at the same time also trying to listen to the discussion going on in the room. As I turned another time to adjust the seat again I stopped...I borrowed a piece of paper which happened to be one of those shopping lists pages that hang from refrigerators......I sat back in the chair...I found my mind buzzing and no thoughts remained about the chair but only about the idea that came into my head.
There I had been uncomfortable, out of place and yet still found inspiration but once I felt the comfortable feeling and yet strong need to find a pen and paper and write I transformed my zone into my writing place. Inspiration can be demanding and strong and overpowering but then writing it out and releasing those ideas turns your location into another world of imagination and, as in my case, transformed an uncomfortable spot into my little writing oasis for ten minutes.
So on that shopping list page I wrote down the first stanza and notes on a new poem I am working on and as I ran out of room on the page I laid the paper down. I looked up at my friend and neighbor with a smile on my face. Then...I wriggled in my uncomfortable chair.
It is nice having a spot when I feel tired or a lack of inspiration that is comfortable for my writing. Yet, don't make that the only place you can find inspiration or do any type of writing. Some of my best ideas can come when I am in strange or unknown or different situations. This may also be why I have a purse with about twenty pens inside of it. I have paper and little notebooks dispersed throughout my house. Now, I just need to learn to carry around a little notebook in my purse I guess since I have so many napkin, shopping list, receipt poems that I carry around with me currently.
Location is important and can lead to inspiration but the writing comes from an idea within and the ability to turn any location into "A Writing Spot."
In football teams are given bye weeks where they have a weekend off from playing. Work has been so busy lately and I have been relaxing in more social ways by hanging out with friends and neighbors that it interrupted my writing a bit. In a sense I had a self-enforced bye week from my blog. While I had this week away though I wrote another poem, started another short story and got into the middle of Chapter Nine of the book. Not too bad!
This week made me think though and one word came to mind often...Location! I know what you are thinking. Wait! You already wrote a post on location. The location of your story becoming like another character with life and dimension and holders of the story. This is not about locations within your story though. This is about finding a spot, a comfortable zone, a location that brings you comfort and becomes your writing place.
This week when I would get home from a long day at work I was tired and the thought of writing did not even cheer me up. The moment I sat down in my writing spot though I would instinctively reach out for my writing notebook and feel my body relax and the words begin to flow out of me again. It is nice having this oasis where I can feel creative.
It does not have to be one spot in your life and that is the only place you should work. In fact, on Saturday I was waiting for my neighbor. I was sitting at her dining room table in an uncomfortable chair that makes me think of one of those outdoor patio chairs. I was wriggling left and right trying to get comfortable in the chair while at the same time also trying to listen to the discussion going on in the room. As I turned another time to adjust the seat again I stopped...I borrowed a piece of paper which happened to be one of those shopping lists pages that hang from refrigerators......I sat back in the chair...I found my mind buzzing and no thoughts remained about the chair but only about the idea that came into my head.
There I had been uncomfortable, out of place and yet still found inspiration but once I felt the comfortable feeling and yet strong need to find a pen and paper and write I transformed my zone into my writing place. Inspiration can be demanding and strong and overpowering but then writing it out and releasing those ideas turns your location into another world of imagination and, as in my case, transformed an uncomfortable spot into my little writing oasis for ten minutes.
So on that shopping list page I wrote down the first stanza and notes on a new poem I am working on and as I ran out of room on the page I laid the paper down. I looked up at my friend and neighbor with a smile on my face. Then...I wriggled in my uncomfortable chair.
It is nice having a spot when I feel tired or a lack of inspiration that is comfortable for my writing. Yet, don't make that the only place you can find inspiration or do any type of writing. Some of my best ideas can come when I am in strange or unknown or different situations. This may also be why I have a purse with about twenty pens inside of it. I have paper and little notebooks dispersed throughout my house. Now, I just need to learn to carry around a little notebook in my purse I guess since I have so many napkin, shopping list, receipt poems that I carry around with me currently.
Location is important and can lead to inspiration but the writing comes from an idea within and the ability to turn any location into "A Writing Spot."
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