When I look at what is going on in our country, I'm overwhelmed. I feel devastation, frustration, disheartenment, embarrassment, sadness, and disbelief. I feel anxiety constrict my chest as my news apps load. When I turn on NPR, I silently hope it's a replay of Ask Me Another and not the hourly news update.
We need stories now.
This summer I've been trying to read stories with voices that vary from my own. I've made the choice to seek out writers who are not middle-aged, white, middle-class women. Because I don't know the unique experiences of others as I know mine. I've also sought out stories by women who match my demographics but whose lifestyles are beyond my scope of experience.
We need stories now.
As I look at what happened in Charlottesville, my heart cries out. My heart cries out, and concurrently, I thirst for understanding. It's easy to feel sorrow; it's more challenging to empathize. I will never know what it's like to be a woman of color standing in front of a Confederate monument on her statehouse grounds.
We need stories now.
Sometimes we imagine that people reading at home are closed off from the world. On the contrary, by experiencing the stories of others, we engage the world. We learn more about the complexity of the human person. We are in conversation with those whose lives are so different from our own, or perhaps so similar.
We need stories now.
As an English teacher, I too often hear students ask why they have to read novels for school when their future plans are in math or the sciences. The answer is, because stories teach us about what it means to be human, about the variety of human experience.
We need stories now.
I urge you today to read someone's story. Someone who may be different from you.
I urge you today to share your story. Share it with someone who needs the understanding of you.
I urge you today to consider the complexity of the human story, the story of our country, the story of your community.
We need stories now.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Summer's End
I had such plans
The books I would read
The manuscript I would complete
The new characters I would unleash into the world
The workouts I would accomplish each and every day
The friends with whom I would catch up after such a long, busy spring
The places I would travel, places I may have never known existed prior
The foods I would learn to make in my own kitchen
The carefree games I would play with my children
The correspondence I would compose
The songs I would sing
I had such plans
Summer break always seems so vast when it begins, and it's sort of difficult that summer goes on even as we all head back to work and school. Yet though I leave many of my goals unfulfilled, I cannot deny that it has been an amazing break. I feel renewed, refreshed, and even more determined to pursue my career in writing.
And though break is coming to a close, it does mean that fall is on the horizon. My favorite season full of my favorite tastes, sights, smells, and feelings. So bring it, Mother Nature. I'm ready for that crispness in the air!
Sunday, July 23, 2017
"Call me Ishmael"
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board."
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
"Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself."
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
"It was the day my grandmother exploded."
"It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not."
"124 was spiteful."
"It was a pleasure to burn."
"You better not never tell nobody but God."
I've been giving a lot of thought to opening lines lately. When I first met my husband, he told me that when he picks up a book, it isn't the cover that makes it or breaks it for him--it's the opening line. He reads one sentence and then makes a decision.
I thought he was nuts. After all, if I'd stopped after "I am an invisible man" and considered it too obvious, I may never have breathed through the masterpiece that is Ellison's novel (and one of my husband's favorites, by the way). What if I had indeed dismissed it by the first line?
Yet the truth is that, like it or not, opening lines matter. For some novels, it's all the majority of people know about it (Moby Dick comes to mind); for others, it is the line that continues to resonate long after the cover has been closed. The opening line sets the tone, the narrative voice, and the style. A lot hinges on those carefully chosen words.
The opening line of Sweet Divinity reads: "One of my earliest memories of my mother involves pot leaves and sprinkles of dirt raining from the heavens". At various points it was: "One of my earliest memories of my mom involved pot leaves raining from the sky" and "When I think of my mother, I see pot leaves falling from the sky."
Miranda begins this way: "It is an uncommon sight to observe a young woman vanish into the sea." It originally read something like, "It is a sight uncommon to watch a young woman disappear into the water."
Visions and revisions...searching for the most precise words, for the appropriate tone, for the exact voice one hears in her mind.
Different tones, different voices, different novels. All made clear by the opening lines.
As I begin work on my next project, I'm keenly aware that the opening line matters. And so I will craft, and recraft, until it is just right...until my husband says he would definitely read that book.
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board."
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
"Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself."
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
"It was the day my grandmother exploded."
"It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not."
"124 was spiteful."
"It was a pleasure to burn."
"You better not never tell nobody but God."
I've been giving a lot of thought to opening lines lately. When I first met my husband, he told me that when he picks up a book, it isn't the cover that makes it or breaks it for him--it's the opening line. He reads one sentence and then makes a decision.
I thought he was nuts. After all, if I'd stopped after "I am an invisible man" and considered it too obvious, I may never have breathed through the masterpiece that is Ellison's novel (and one of my husband's favorites, by the way). What if I had indeed dismissed it by the first line?
Yet the truth is that, like it or not, opening lines matter. For some novels, it's all the majority of people know about it (Moby Dick comes to mind); for others, it is the line that continues to resonate long after the cover has been closed. The opening line sets the tone, the narrative voice, and the style. A lot hinges on those carefully chosen words.
The opening line of Sweet Divinity reads: "One of my earliest memories of my mother involves pot leaves and sprinkles of dirt raining from the heavens". At various points it was: "One of my earliest memories of my mom involved pot leaves raining from the sky" and "When I think of my mother, I see pot leaves falling from the sky."
Miranda begins this way: "It is an uncommon sight to observe a young woman vanish into the sea." It originally read something like, "It is a sight uncommon to watch a young woman disappear into the water."
Visions and revisions...searching for the most precise words, for the appropriate tone, for the exact voice one hears in her mind.
Different tones, different voices, different novels. All made clear by the opening lines.
As I begin work on my next project, I'm keenly aware that the opening line matters. And so I will craft, and recraft, until it is just right...until my husband says he would definitely read that book.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Time's Ticking Away
I'm in a slump.
I'm reading a lot. That's positive. So far this summer I have read mystery, science fiction, literary fiction, chick lit, young adult literature, memoir, and literature in translation. I think I'm up to eleven books, and I'm deep into two others at the moment. You can find me on GoodReads if you'd like to keep up with my frenetic bookshelf!
I've also signed up for a cooking class where I will be learning to bake sweet summer treats and make ice cream. I'm hoping this will be a great experience so I will be driven to sign up for another class that involves entrees...but we'll see.
I've been traveling this summer. I went to Tampa overnight to the U2 Joshua Tree 30th Anniversary tour (one of the best nights of my life, hands down), journeyed to St. Augustine with the hubby and kids where I toured a pirate museum, ate too many donuts, and single-handedly kept the Rita's Italian Ice open. I also read five books that week.
I just returned from Georgia where a trip to our family's farm for my grandmother's birthday turned out to also include the surprise wedding of my mother (yes, that's right, a surprise wedding). While there I did some outlet shopping and went on long walks through the fields with my son.
Back home, I've taught a college essay writing camp and tutored several kids in a variety of areas involving writing. I've had the opportunity to catch up with some amazing former students. My family and I have been tearing through our "Summer of Fun" jar, including travelling to a city in North Carolina we'd never visited, and having the worst best-looking-burger I've ever encountered.
All along, I've been editing Miranda, and it's coming along quite well, but I haven't had the time to write fresh words. Which has me thinking, is it in fact that I haven't had time, or is it that I haven't made time? I've never been one of those writers who sets a daily quota or schedules time to write. I'm someone who can be going along with her day and suddenly it hits me: that turn in my stomach and tinge of pressure in my chest...it's the story trying to get out. And when that happens, I write until I cannot possibly write one more word. It just flows out of me like a purge of emotion and life. It's an amazing experience.
And yet I think I've been ignoring the feeling, setting it aside in order to do the other things I feel compelled to accomplish (or to binge-watch episodes of Friends while working jigsaw puzzles...a mindless pleasure). My arms are aching as I write this post, because the sequel to Sweet Divinity is inside me, and it so badly wants to live on the page.
So maybe I'll second guess the scheduling and quota. You can't force good writing, that's for sure, but I'm beginning to think I should spend a little time setting the mood. Maybe I'll lock myself away and light some candles. After all, I clearly have a love affair with words.
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Musings
The summer has been busier than I anticipated. Though I read five fantastic books while at the beach, I'm way behind in my reading goals. In addition, I've been sloughing through my manuscript, which is all well and good, but I'm so thirsty for new words! My writing goals have also been suffering as a result of the tutoring and essay camps that have been filling my days, and I may have been giving into temptation a little more than usual when drawn to the playroom where a jigsaw puzzle and every episode of Friends are waiting at night (that is one fantastically written show!).
I've had several ideas for new manuscripts marinating in my mind for quite a while. I find that my greatest struggles as a writer are finding the narrative voices. For example, several years ago I experienced a horrifically difficult time in my life. A piece of my extended family was fractured and then permanently disconnected, a piece that I had emotionally relied on for years. When I came out on the other side of that mess, with the help of my husband and an amazing counselor named Alice, I was able to see that my story was one that needed to be written. When it was happening, my husband and I used to joke that if someone wrote this story in novel form, publishers would laugh and decry it as "unrealistic"; it was more soap-opera worthy than literary fiction. But I kept notes, my husband kept artifacts, and I allowed the story to sit on the back burner for a while.
I tried to outline a manuscript that developed the story, and I even wrote an opening paragraph once, but it just wasn't ready. And any writer worth her salt knows you can't force it and expect art. And yet this summer, as I was relaxing by the ocean, watching the tide come crashing in, I found it. Or rather, perhaps it found me. The narrative voice arrived in all of its complexity and emotional toil. I always sought the voice in a modern day library or bookstore, or maybe in a small, country town. And yet when she arrived, she arrived from the past, from the turn of the century in fact, and she arrived from the coast. Whereas in Miranda, the protagonist disappeared into the water, in this new piece, she was emerging from its depths.
When I looked at him, all I saw was a shell. The eyes were wide open and darting about, and yet the body was emaciated; the vitality melted away from the bones and through the sheets. There were no more doctors, no more pills, no more antidotes and trials. Death had won the war. And though the eyes in those sunken sockets were desperately searching, I knew the look they conveyed. It was fear. Fear of a life ill-lived. Fear of an eternity of wandering. Fear of demons denied.
And thus we begin again...
I've had several ideas for new manuscripts marinating in my mind for quite a while. I find that my greatest struggles as a writer are finding the narrative voices. For example, several years ago I experienced a horrifically difficult time in my life. A piece of my extended family was fractured and then permanently disconnected, a piece that I had emotionally relied on for years. When I came out on the other side of that mess, with the help of my husband and an amazing counselor named Alice, I was able to see that my story was one that needed to be written. When it was happening, my husband and I used to joke that if someone wrote this story in novel form, publishers would laugh and decry it as "unrealistic"; it was more soap-opera worthy than literary fiction. But I kept notes, my husband kept artifacts, and I allowed the story to sit on the back burner for a while.
I tried to outline a manuscript that developed the story, and I even wrote an opening paragraph once, but it just wasn't ready. And any writer worth her salt knows you can't force it and expect art. And yet this summer, as I was relaxing by the ocean, watching the tide come crashing in, I found it. Or rather, perhaps it found me. The narrative voice arrived in all of its complexity and emotional toil. I always sought the voice in a modern day library or bookstore, or maybe in a small, country town. And yet when she arrived, she arrived from the past, from the turn of the century in fact, and she arrived from the coast. Whereas in Miranda, the protagonist disappeared into the water, in this new piece, she was emerging from its depths.
When I looked at him, all I saw was a shell. The eyes were wide open and darting about, and yet the body was emaciated; the vitality melted away from the bones and through the sheets. There were no more doctors, no more pills, no more antidotes and trials. Death had won the war. And though the eyes in those sunken sockets were desperately searching, I knew the look they conveyed. It was fear. Fear of a life ill-lived. Fear of an eternity of wandering. Fear of demons denied.
And thus we begin again...
Friday, June 16, 2017
Summer Reading Has Arrived!
My family knows that they will not see me for at least an hour. And they may as well not bother to call my cell phone. I cannot possibly answer. This is the day I walk through the library, collecting books for our family's summer vacation.
I, quite literally, judge the books by their covers.
I begin with the "A" aisle and walk slowly, running my eyes over each spine, allowing my mind to read the title, take in the colors, font, design. If the spine piques my interest, I take the book from the shelf and give the cover a glance to decide if I wish to read the inside flap.
I tend to gravitate towards the thin paperback books with bright colors or a font with character. A font with an elegant script will ensure I will slide it from the shelf for further inspection.
If the cover features a woman looking longingly into the distance, especially if she's wearing clothing from the Puritan/colonial era, it's a no. If there is an animal on the cover, it's quite possibly a no (don't judge...I'm still recovering from Where the Red Fern Grows). If there is a plantation house front and center, back on the shelf with you!
Do I consider that sometimes I'm missing out on an amazing read? Yes. But I believe fate will reunite us. Do I ever run across a dud in my stack of beautifully covered tomes? Indeed. It's a bummer.
However, I am prepared for that moment. Which is why I allow myself to check out ten books for our week long vacation. After all, a girl needs options!
I look forward to library day all year. For me, it is the official start to summer. And I love the moment when I see a book and I know, just know, that it's going to be remarkable.
There are two series that I am devoted to and I read the next book in the series each year on vacation, and I often take one extra book in the series, just in case. But the others are completely random, and I love the moments of discovery that this method brings. Besides, who doesn't love loitering in the library amongst all the possibilities? For this girl, it's true love.
What I'm taking on vacation this year:
Oscar Wilde and the Dead Man's Smile by Gyles Brandreth (I LOVE this series. Oscar Wilde is my
jam!)
The Limpopo Academy of Private Detection and The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party by Alexander McCall Smith (I always anticipate my summer reunion with Mme Ramotswe!)
Manuscript Found in Accra by Paulo Coehlo
When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling
The Iguana Tree by Michel Stone
Orhan's Inheritance by Aline Ohanesian
A Fine Imitation by Amber Brock
The Mortifications by Derek Palacio
Check out the covers...I think you'll like what you see.
Now...let summer begin!
I, quite literally, judge the books by their covers.
I begin with the "A" aisle and walk slowly, running my eyes over each spine, allowing my mind to read the title, take in the colors, font, design. If the spine piques my interest, I take the book from the shelf and give the cover a glance to decide if I wish to read the inside flap.
I tend to gravitate towards the thin paperback books with bright colors or a font with character. A font with an elegant script will ensure I will slide it from the shelf for further inspection.
If the cover features a woman looking longingly into the distance, especially if she's wearing clothing from the Puritan/colonial era, it's a no. If there is an animal on the cover, it's quite possibly a no (don't judge...I'm still recovering from Where the Red Fern Grows). If there is a plantation house front and center, back on the shelf with you!
Do I consider that sometimes I'm missing out on an amazing read? Yes. But I believe fate will reunite us. Do I ever run across a dud in my stack of beautifully covered tomes? Indeed. It's a bummer.
However, I am prepared for that moment. Which is why I allow myself to check out ten books for our week long vacation. After all, a girl needs options!
I look forward to library day all year. For me, it is the official start to summer. And I love the moment when I see a book and I know, just know, that it's going to be remarkable.
There are two series that I am devoted to and I read the next book in the series each year on vacation, and I often take one extra book in the series, just in case. But the others are completely random, and I love the moments of discovery that this method brings. Besides, who doesn't love loitering in the library amongst all the possibilities? For this girl, it's true love.
What I'm taking on vacation this year:
Oscar Wilde and the Dead Man's Smile by Gyles Brandreth (I LOVE this series. Oscar Wilde is my
jam!)
The Limpopo Academy of Private Detection and The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party by Alexander McCall Smith (I always anticipate my summer reunion with Mme Ramotswe!)
Manuscript Found in Accra by Paulo Coehlo
When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling
The Iguana Tree by Michel Stone
Orhan's Inheritance by Aline Ohanesian
A Fine Imitation by Amber Brock
The Mortifications by Derek Palacio
Check out the covers...I think you'll like what you see.
Now...let summer begin!
Monday, June 12, 2017
Summer of Fun = Summer of Inspiration!
I wish I could claim this idea as my own, but the truth is that I saw it in a magazine years ago and then adapted it for my family.
At the start of every summer, my kids and I gather around the table and create our "Summer of Fun Jar" list. We each get several scraps of paper and write on them various ideas we have for fun this summer. In past years, the items have ranged from "Visit the Zoo" and "Find a Waterfall" to "Create a Harry Potter Themed Meal" and "Have a Camp Out". Some new additions this year? "Visit a State Park", "Turn the House into a Museum", and "Spa at Home" (believe it or not, that wasn't one of mine!).
The idea here is to get us out of the house, or at least away from the screens for a little while, and to do so on the cheap! Most of our items are free or take the place of money we'd spend anyway (like a themed meal). A few of them incur a cost (the zoo, a museum, a baseball game), but we can splurge occasionally!
We draw an activity at the beginning of the summer and once we've completed it, we draw another. We began back in 2012 by drawing just one a week, on Sunday night, but we quickly realized it was too much fun to hold off...and we really wanted to make all of our ideas happen. Besides, everyone's excited when it's time to draw the next little slip of paper from the jar!
I believe that creativity is one of the best gifts we can give or receive, and many of our activities are just that, whether it's writing a story or going to see a free concert, baking a new treat or buying something from the farmer's market and figuring out what to do with it! And we work our creative muscles together, as a family. This way we try to show our kids know how important creativity is!
Last night, as part of our "Summer of Fun", my ten year old daughter made dinner all on her own, a three course meal. Simple? Yes. Delicious? Mostly. The best? Absolutely.
Let the fun commence!
It's been a bit since I've updated you on my bookshelf. What I'm reading this week:
Queen Isabella by Alison Weir
The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo (I know, it's a crime that I haven't read it before now!)
In the meantime, I've also read: Are You There God, It's Me Margaret, by Judy Blume; Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman; and The Notorious RBG, by Irin Carmon.
I also want my readers to know that if you recommended a summer reading book for me, I've ordered it or put it on hold at the library, and I'll keep you updated on my reading!
At the start of every summer, my kids and I gather around the table and create our "Summer of Fun Jar" list. We each get several scraps of paper and write on them various ideas we have for fun this summer. In past years, the items have ranged from "Visit the Zoo" and "Find a Waterfall" to "Create a Harry Potter Themed Meal" and "Have a Camp Out". Some new additions this year? "Visit a State Park", "Turn the House into a Museum", and "Spa at Home" (believe it or not, that wasn't one of mine!).
The idea here is to get us out of the house, or at least away from the screens for a little while, and to do so on the cheap! Most of our items are free or take the place of money we'd spend anyway (like a themed meal). A few of them incur a cost (the zoo, a museum, a baseball game), but we can splurge occasionally!
We draw an activity at the beginning of the summer and once we've completed it, we draw another. We began back in 2012 by drawing just one a week, on Sunday night, but we quickly realized it was too much fun to hold off...and we really wanted to make all of our ideas happen. Besides, everyone's excited when it's time to draw the next little slip of paper from the jar!
I believe that creativity is one of the best gifts we can give or receive, and many of our activities are just that, whether it's writing a story or going to see a free concert, baking a new treat or buying something from the farmer's market and figuring out what to do with it! And we work our creative muscles together, as a family. This way we try to show our kids know how important creativity is!
Last night, as part of our "Summer of Fun", my ten year old daughter made dinner all on her own, a three course meal. Simple? Yes. Delicious? Mostly. The best? Absolutely.
Let the fun commence!
It's been a bit since I've updated you on my bookshelf. What I'm reading this week:
Queen Isabella by Alison Weir
The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo (I know, it's a crime that I haven't read it before now!)
In the meantime, I've also read: Are You There God, It's Me Margaret, by Judy Blume; Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman; and The Notorious RBG, by Irin Carmon.
I also want my readers to know that if you recommended a summer reading book for me, I've ordered it or put it on hold at the library, and I'll keep you updated on my reading!
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