Evidently I'm prone to pneumonia. So I, along with my 80-year old relatives, will be lining up to get a pneumonia vaccination as soon as I'm well.
I had pneumonia back in 2016. I've written on this blog about how it was during that time that I began sending out queries for Sweet Divinity after a hiatus. Pneumonia is a very literary disease, and by that I mean that it seems to be the ailment of choice in a lot of classic literature, and also, that one can get a lot of literary work done whilst recovering from it.
I tend to pretend I'm not sick and keep living life at a ridiculously rapid pace. And then in comes pneumonia, knocking me on my rear end and reminding me that I should actually listen to my body.
And so I've spent the better part of three days quarantined in an upstairs room, occupying myself with Outlander, Black Panther, The Man in the High Castle, and Trevor Noah stand up. But I've also been writing.
I've been trying for months to pound out the opening of the sequel to Sweet Divinity. I've written some funny stuff, but nothing that is just right. I love the opening of Sweet Divinity. Its sequel deserves something just as grand.
And then this morning, snuggled under my blankets, eating crackers (which is basically all I've eaten in the past forty-eight hours), it happened. I opened a document, titled it "Aunt Annie Mae", and went to town.
But I'm not thanking pneumonia. It's a horrible illness that really wrecks lives, but I am thanking the cosmos for the swift kick in the pants, and thanking my amazing doctor who's given me some good stuff. I'll happily crawl back beneath my covers now and rest a bit. Until the next bout of inspiration hits.
I advise you to take some quiet time for yourself...no...I advise you to choose some quiet time for yourself. Only then can we hear our inner genius.
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Thankful
I have a lot to be thankful for, and I am aware that there are so many people who struggle on this day to find gratitude in lives that are lived with so much struggle. So before I begin this list of things for which I am thankful, I send out a prayer of gratitude and a prayer of supplication for those who struggle to find the places of gratitude in their lives. I wish that they would, in the coming year, experience the love and acknowledgement of dignity that we, as humans, have the ability to gift one another. I will strive to do my part.
A few things I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving:
1. My children. Even at six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when I hear, "Mommy...Mommy...Mommy...Mommy" in monotone.
2. My husband. Who lives with a writer. Enough said.
3. Books. I just finished Warlight, by Michael Ondaatje, a fantastic read. I was swept back in time by this convoluted tale. I could feel the smoke closing in around me.
4. Words. I'm currently reading Born a Crime, by Trevor Noah. Words matter.
5. Food. I know that I am blessed to have more than enough to eat, but I'd be lying if I weren't especially thankful today for cranberry sauce and sweet potato casserole (with brown sugar pecans, no marshmallows).
5. Family. We don't agree on everything, but we agree to love.
6. Friends. Man, a tribe is so necessary.
7. Beauty. It's everywhere, but I find it so particularly in nature. I love to be in nature, first thing in the morning, when the creatures haven't yet been disrupted by our human antics.
8. Mary Oliver.
9. Beds. My favorite moment of the day is getting in bed. Under the covers. Snuggled with a book.
10. Lemurs. They're adorable. Weirdly adorable.
11. Central heating and air. And blankets.
12. Faith. Believing in more than myself keeps me centered.
13. Bubbles.
14. Puzzles. They focus my mind when it tries to pull me astray.
15. Art. Because expression is of utmost importance.
16. Chocolate. My body may not tolerate you, but my taste buds are grateful.
17. Stars. They keep my self-importance in check.
18. Seashells. Natural art.
19. My abilities. I must write, and I'm so thankful that I can.
20. Support. If you're reading this, thank you.
There's much more, but I'll stop, for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is on the horizon. I wish you and yours a happy Thanksgiving. May you eat, drink, and be merry.
A few things I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving:
1. My children. Even at six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when I hear, "Mommy...Mommy...Mommy...Mommy" in monotone.
2. My husband. Who lives with a writer. Enough said.
3. Books. I just finished Warlight, by Michael Ondaatje, a fantastic read. I was swept back in time by this convoluted tale. I could feel the smoke closing in around me.
4. Words. I'm currently reading Born a Crime, by Trevor Noah. Words matter.
5. Food. I know that I am blessed to have more than enough to eat, but I'd be lying if I weren't especially thankful today for cranberry sauce and sweet potato casserole (with brown sugar pecans, no marshmallows).
5. Family. We don't agree on everything, but we agree to love.
6. Friends. Man, a tribe is so necessary.
7. Beauty. It's everywhere, but I find it so particularly in nature. I love to be in nature, first thing in the morning, when the creatures haven't yet been disrupted by our human antics.
8. Mary Oliver.
9. Beds. My favorite moment of the day is getting in bed. Under the covers. Snuggled with a book.
10. Lemurs. They're adorable. Weirdly adorable.
11. Central heating and air. And blankets.
12. Faith. Believing in more than myself keeps me centered.
13. Bubbles.
14. Puzzles. They focus my mind when it tries to pull me astray.
15. Art. Because expression is of utmost importance.
16. Chocolate. My body may not tolerate you, but my taste buds are grateful.
17. Stars. They keep my self-importance in check.
18. Seashells. Natural art.
19. My abilities. I must write, and I'm so thankful that I can.
20. Support. If you're reading this, thank you.
There's much more, but I'll stop, for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is on the horizon. I wish you and yours a happy Thanksgiving. May you eat, drink, and be merry.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Let It Flow
Full disclosure: my children are watching Frozen in the background, so you should probably sing the title to this blog post if you're going for authenticity.
I've found myself giving a lot of writing advice in recent weeks. I've neglected this blog as most of my free time as been taken up advising others on creative writing. I've been working with high school seniors consistently since the beginning of August. They're writing their college essays, and I'm amazed at how complicated it's gotten since I applied for college. I recall writing my admissions essay on how inspired I was by my grandmother's trek on her tractor to rescue my baby cousin during a blizzard. These days, most of my students are writing at least four essays, and the topics range from fascinating to absurd.
I've also been working with my creative writing class and with a student who is working on a novel for her senior project. I love this work because I get to experience different processes, inspirations, and abilities. I, for one, have no gift for writing fantasy or science fiction, so when I encounter a student who is able to create a whole world in the stroke of a pen, I'm completely taken in. I'm also astounded every day by the bravery of my students. They often write about what they know, and they know far too much about the struggles we face in life. Yet their ability to transfer experience and feelings to paper is remarkable. When they begin, they're hesitant and afraid of their vulnerability, but they press on. That's courage.
I am also working with a friend who has asked me to ghost write her memoir. What an honor it is for someone to trust me with such a huge piece of who they are. Her story is one of the movies, and one we need right now. It's a story of racial integration, prejudice, innocence lost, painful revelation, and also, somehow, hope restored. I am certain this story will not only sell like hot cakes, but that it will impact its readers at the deepest level of their souls.
With all of these writers, my repeated message is, "Just Write". I've found that almost every one of them is suppressing their voice with worries about word count, structure, detail, perception, and point of view. Every one of them has asked me, "Am I doing this the right way?" The answer is always--yes. When you've got a story brewing inside of you, you unleash it. Let it tumble out of you, rush forth onto the page, flow like the roughest waters. When you're telling your story, and often when you're telling someone else's story, don't allow yourself to question your purpose under the guise of "I don't think I'm doing this correctly" or "But I don't know where the story is supposed to begin." Those are concerns for a later date. My advice for beginning any writing project, especially one based on your life, is always the same: for now, just write. Often you will find the central story somewhere amongst your words and your memories. So just write and worry about the structural elements later. Don't hold back. Don't put it off because you've convinced yourself that you aren't a writer.
We're all storytellers. And whether we tell those stories through the written word, with our voices, through a paintbrush, or through a camera lens, we create texts with our lives. We need these texts to remind us of what it means to be human in all of its beautiful and terrifying complexity. We need these texts, because we need stories.
We need stories now. I call on you to share yours.
I've found myself giving a lot of writing advice in recent weeks. I've neglected this blog as most of my free time as been taken up advising others on creative writing. I've been working with high school seniors consistently since the beginning of August. They're writing their college essays, and I'm amazed at how complicated it's gotten since I applied for college. I recall writing my admissions essay on how inspired I was by my grandmother's trek on her tractor to rescue my baby cousin during a blizzard. These days, most of my students are writing at least four essays, and the topics range from fascinating to absurd.
I've also been working with my creative writing class and with a student who is working on a novel for her senior project. I love this work because I get to experience different processes, inspirations, and abilities. I, for one, have no gift for writing fantasy or science fiction, so when I encounter a student who is able to create a whole world in the stroke of a pen, I'm completely taken in. I'm also astounded every day by the bravery of my students. They often write about what they know, and they know far too much about the struggles we face in life. Yet their ability to transfer experience and feelings to paper is remarkable. When they begin, they're hesitant and afraid of their vulnerability, but they press on. That's courage.
I am also working with a friend who has asked me to ghost write her memoir. What an honor it is for someone to trust me with such a huge piece of who they are. Her story is one of the movies, and one we need right now. It's a story of racial integration, prejudice, innocence lost, painful revelation, and also, somehow, hope restored. I am certain this story will not only sell like hot cakes, but that it will impact its readers at the deepest level of their souls.
With all of these writers, my repeated message is, "Just Write". I've found that almost every one of them is suppressing their voice with worries about word count, structure, detail, perception, and point of view. Every one of them has asked me, "Am I doing this the right way?" The answer is always--yes. When you've got a story brewing inside of you, you unleash it. Let it tumble out of you, rush forth onto the page, flow like the roughest waters. When you're telling your story, and often when you're telling someone else's story, don't allow yourself to question your purpose under the guise of "I don't think I'm doing this correctly" or "But I don't know where the story is supposed to begin." Those are concerns for a later date. My advice for beginning any writing project, especially one based on your life, is always the same: for now, just write. Often you will find the central story somewhere amongst your words and your memories. So just write and worry about the structural elements later. Don't hold back. Don't put it off because you've convinced yourself that you aren't a writer.
We're all storytellers. And whether we tell those stories through the written word, with our voices, through a paintbrush, or through a camera lens, we create texts with our lives. We need these texts to remind us of what it means to be human in all of its beautiful and terrifying complexity. We need these texts, because we need stories.
We need stories now. I call on you to share yours.
Saturday, September 8, 2018
Musical Words
Music has always been an integral part of my writing process, and of my life. I've shared playlists for several of my projects on this blog, and I'm currently building a new one for my next project.
I'm also someone who gets outrageously excited when it's a free week on satellite radio; I love the decades channels and the songs they help me recall.
There are so many songs that take me right back in time: "Iris", by Goo Goo Dolls, takes me back to driving with a friend up a mountain on a hot summer day, windows down, the wind in my hair. I was eighteen, and the lyrics, "And I don't want to world to see me/ Cause I don't think that they'd understand./ When everything's meant to be broken/ I just want you to know who I am," made my chest clench, because they spoke the words that I felt inside but could never articulate.
"Hit Me with Your Best Shot", by Pat Benatar, takes me back to my Florida home, where I lived for the first four years of my life. One of my earliest memories is my Aunt Lisa teaching me the lyrics to that song as I wore a t-shirt that hung off of my right shoulder and read: "Gag me with a spoon!"
"Today", by Smashing Pumpkins, puts me back on a charter bus, in the dark of night, when T.J. Chastain put his headphones over my ears and said, "Listen to this song. This is amazing. Just wait!" I nearly jumped out of my skin five bars in.
The opening chords of "Where the Streets Have No Name", by U2, make me close my eyes and inhale. I've always said that seeing the band perform that song live is a religious experience, and I'm filled with the spirit every time I hear it.
And "The Scientist", by Coldplay, makes me weep every time.
There are so many songs, so many memories...enough to fill a book with. And then there are lyrics that I find so beautiful that they pop into my mind at random times and fill me with beauty. Here are some song lyrics I wish I had written:
"The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds, cut out of the sun." "Read My Mind", The Killers
"I pull up in your driveway with magic soaking my spine." "Read My Mind", The Killers
"I've got soul but I'm not a soldier." "All These Things That I Have Done", The Killers
"Oh, the deeper I spin,/ Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin./ Took a drive in the dirty rain/ To a place where the wind calls your name/ Under the trees, the river laughing at you and me" "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses", U2
"You're the reason I sing./ You're the reason the opera's in me." "Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own", U2
"Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child/ Softly stolen under a blanket sky" "Galapagos", Smashing Pumpkins
"Wait a minute baby/ Stay with me a while/ Said you'd give me light/ But you never told me about the fire." "Sara", Fleetwood Mac
"Drowning, in the sea of love/ Where everyone would love to drown" "Sara", Fleetwood Mac
"We're just a million little gods causing rainstorms/ Turning every good thing to dust." "Wake Up", Arcade Fire
"Just you and me/ on my island of hope/ a breath between us could be miles." "I Love You", Sarah McLachlan
"A paperweight, junk garage/ Winter rain, honey pot/ Crazy, all the lovers have been tagged." "Country Feedback", REM
"Me, my thoughts are flower strewn/ Ocean storm, bayberry moon/ I have got to leave to find my way." "Find the River", REM
"The ocean is the river's goal/ A need to leave the water knows/ We're closer now than light years to go." "Find the River, REM
"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?/ Can the child within my heart rise above?" "Landslide, Fleetwood Mac
"You fill up my senses/ Like a night in the forest." "Annie's Song", John Denver
"She tied you to her kitchen chair/ She broke your throne/ She cut your hair/ And from your lips she drew the hallelujah." "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen
"And all the ways I got to know/ Your pretty face and electric soul" "Young and Beautiful", Lana Del Rey
"When you're looking at your shadow,/ Standing on the edge of yourself,/ Praying on the darkness/ Just don't take the money." "Don't Take the Money", The Bleachers
"So let's hang an anchor from the sun/ There's a million city lights/ But you're number one." "Fire Escape", Andrew McMahon
"I went out walking through the streets paved with gold/ Lifted some stones/ Saw the skin and bones of a city without a soul" "The Wanderer", Johnny Cash
"I might have been born just plain white trash/ But Fancy was my name." "Fancy", Reba McEntire
"I believe you love who you love/ Ain't nothin' you should ever be ashamed of/ I believe this world ain't half as bad as it looks./ I believe most people are good." "Most People are Good", Luke Bryan
"Love is blindness/ I don't want to see/ Won't you wrap the night/ Around me?/ Oh, my love/ Blindness." "Love is Blindness, U2 (I wish I had written the entire song.)
There are so many more...but I think I've spent enough time on this post for today!
What songs/song lyrics inspire you?
I'm also someone who gets outrageously excited when it's a free week on satellite radio; I love the decades channels and the songs they help me recall.
There are so many songs that take me right back in time: "Iris", by Goo Goo Dolls, takes me back to driving with a friend up a mountain on a hot summer day, windows down, the wind in my hair. I was eighteen, and the lyrics, "And I don't want to world to see me/ Cause I don't think that they'd understand./ When everything's meant to be broken/ I just want you to know who I am," made my chest clench, because they spoke the words that I felt inside but could never articulate.
"Hit Me with Your Best Shot", by Pat Benatar, takes me back to my Florida home, where I lived for the first four years of my life. One of my earliest memories is my Aunt Lisa teaching me the lyrics to that song as I wore a t-shirt that hung off of my right shoulder and read: "Gag me with a spoon!"
"Today", by Smashing Pumpkins, puts me back on a charter bus, in the dark of night, when T.J. Chastain put his headphones over my ears and said, "Listen to this song. This is amazing. Just wait!" I nearly jumped out of my skin five bars in.
The opening chords of "Where the Streets Have No Name", by U2, make me close my eyes and inhale. I've always said that seeing the band perform that song live is a religious experience, and I'm filled with the spirit every time I hear it.
And "The Scientist", by Coldplay, makes me weep every time.
There are so many songs, so many memories...enough to fill a book with. And then there are lyrics that I find so beautiful that they pop into my mind at random times and fill me with beauty. Here are some song lyrics I wish I had written:
"The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds, cut out of the sun." "Read My Mind", The Killers
"I pull up in your driveway with magic soaking my spine." "Read My Mind", The Killers
"I've got soul but I'm not a soldier." "All These Things That I Have Done", The Killers
"Oh, the deeper I spin,/ Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin./ Took a drive in the dirty rain/ To a place where the wind calls your name/ Under the trees, the river laughing at you and me" "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses", U2
"You're the reason I sing./ You're the reason the opera's in me." "Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own", U2
"Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child/ Softly stolen under a blanket sky" "Galapagos", Smashing Pumpkins
"Wait a minute baby/ Stay with me a while/ Said you'd give me light/ But you never told me about the fire." "Sara", Fleetwood Mac
"Drowning, in the sea of love/ Where everyone would love to drown" "Sara", Fleetwood Mac
"We're just a million little gods causing rainstorms/ Turning every good thing to dust." "Wake Up", Arcade Fire
"Just you and me/ on my island of hope/ a breath between us could be miles." "I Love You", Sarah McLachlan
"A paperweight, junk garage/ Winter rain, honey pot/ Crazy, all the lovers have been tagged." "Country Feedback", REM
"Me, my thoughts are flower strewn/ Ocean storm, bayberry moon/ I have got to leave to find my way." "Find the River", REM
"The ocean is the river's goal/ A need to leave the water knows/ We're closer now than light years to go." "Find the River, REM
"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?/ Can the child within my heart rise above?" "Landslide, Fleetwood Mac
"You fill up my senses/ Like a night in the forest." "Annie's Song", John Denver
"She tied you to her kitchen chair/ She broke your throne/ She cut your hair/ And from your lips she drew the hallelujah." "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen
"And all the ways I got to know/ Your pretty face and electric soul" "Young and Beautiful", Lana Del Rey
"When you're looking at your shadow,/ Standing on the edge of yourself,/ Praying on the darkness/ Just don't take the money." "Don't Take the Money", The Bleachers
"So let's hang an anchor from the sun/ There's a million city lights/ But you're number one." "Fire Escape", Andrew McMahon
"I went out walking through the streets paved with gold/ Lifted some stones/ Saw the skin and bones of a city without a soul" "The Wanderer", Johnny Cash
"I might have been born just plain white trash/ But Fancy was my name." "Fancy", Reba McEntire
"I believe you love who you love/ Ain't nothin' you should ever be ashamed of/ I believe this world ain't half as bad as it looks./ I believe most people are good." "Most People are Good", Luke Bryan
"Love is blindness/ I don't want to see/ Won't you wrap the night/ Around me?/ Oh, my love/ Blindness." "Love is Blindness, U2 (I wish I had written the entire song.)
There are so many more...but I think I've spent enough time on this post for today!
What songs/song lyrics inspire you?
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Big News!
Dear readers, after years of queries, requested manuscripts, constructive criticism, full edits, heartbreak, and hope, I have signed a contract for the publication of Sweet Divinity! (Cue uproarious applause!)
This journey began many years ago with a story told to me by a friend, a funny story about her brother's shenanigans. When I wrote it down, the rest of the story flew out of me. Perhaps that is because, in many ways, it was my story.
Since that first draft was completed, I have written a full literary fiction novel and have begun three others, including the sequel to Sweet Divinity.
I spent years querying agents, engaging in substantial rewrites with them, and even sending them divinity candy (which is SO darn difficult to make!), but with no ultimate professional relationships established.
Then, while at the beach this summer, I decided to take a different tack. I had been afraid to reach out to small presses, afraid that I wouldn't know how to advocate for my work, afraid that if I exhausted those options, I would be left with a novel I knew was special, but nowhere to take it.
I spent many afternoons cooped up in the beach condo. My son is three years old, and he has no love for the sand, while I, his doting mother, have no love for slathering him in lotion for fifteen minutes of beachtime and a bathtime consumed by screaming as I try to wash sand out of his mouth, elbow creases, and hair. It's exhausting. So most afternoons I sat inside with my laptop while my husband and daughter played on the beach and my son napped upstairs.
One afternoon I found myself seeking small presses, particularly those established in the South, since that is where my novel takes place. I wanted a press that did actually print novels, a press that established personal connections with its writers, a press that would help me navigate the marketing of my book, a press that had happy, excited authors on their list.
I found Prospective Press. I queried right away because I wanted exactly what they had to offer. And the great news is, they wanted me too.
And so, readers, I have signed my first publishing contract. I will now go into my Inbox where I have kept the "Rejections" folder and, in it, every rejection I have received. It's time to move the folder to the trash can. It's time to look forward freely and with anticipation of the road ahead.
I can't wait to get started on this project of publication, and I can't wait until Sweet Divinity is finally in your hands! Today is a day to celebrate. It is evidence that, if you press on, your professional goals can be met. It's all in the timing, but you have to be present when it's time. And now, at last, it's time for my precious Sweet Divinity.
This journey began many years ago with a story told to me by a friend, a funny story about her brother's shenanigans. When I wrote it down, the rest of the story flew out of me. Perhaps that is because, in many ways, it was my story.
Since that first draft was completed, I have written a full literary fiction novel and have begun three others, including the sequel to Sweet Divinity.
I spent years querying agents, engaging in substantial rewrites with them, and even sending them divinity candy (which is SO darn difficult to make!), but with no ultimate professional relationships established.
Then, while at the beach this summer, I decided to take a different tack. I had been afraid to reach out to small presses, afraid that I wouldn't know how to advocate for my work, afraid that if I exhausted those options, I would be left with a novel I knew was special, but nowhere to take it.
I spent many afternoons cooped up in the beach condo. My son is three years old, and he has no love for the sand, while I, his doting mother, have no love for slathering him in lotion for fifteen minutes of beachtime and a bathtime consumed by screaming as I try to wash sand out of his mouth, elbow creases, and hair. It's exhausting. So most afternoons I sat inside with my laptop while my husband and daughter played on the beach and my son napped upstairs.
One afternoon I found myself seeking small presses, particularly those established in the South, since that is where my novel takes place. I wanted a press that did actually print novels, a press that established personal connections with its writers, a press that would help me navigate the marketing of my book, a press that had happy, excited authors on their list.
I found Prospective Press. I queried right away because I wanted exactly what they had to offer. And the great news is, they wanted me too.
And so, readers, I have signed my first publishing contract. I will now go into my Inbox where I have kept the "Rejections" folder and, in it, every rejection I have received. It's time to move the folder to the trash can. It's time to look forward freely and with anticipation of the road ahead.
I can't wait to get started on this project of publication, and I can't wait until Sweet Divinity is finally in your hands! Today is a day to celebrate. It is evidence that, if you press on, your professional goals can be met. It's all in the timing, but you have to be present when it's time. And now, at last, it's time for my precious Sweet Divinity.
Saturday, July 14, 2018
A Nomadic Heart Roaming the Page
I am a sedentary nomad. I love change. If I were left to my own whims, I would move from here to there, throughout the United States and to myriad small villages and towns across Europe. I would rent a tiny apartment or home in each place and then live there until the wind changes directions (not totally unlike Mary Poppins).
And there are so many jobs I'd love to explore. Museum curator, research librarian, college professor, anthropologist, life coach, motivational speaker, pastor, church education coordinator, freelance journalist, event planner, newswriter, literary agent, baker...how am I supposed to choose just one?
Yet there is always a constant in my life, the career, the vocation, the calling that centers and grounds me: I am a writer. No matter how my life is progressing, how busy I am, or how hard my nomadic heart is pulling me, writing is the home I always return to.
I am constantly writing. While I'm doing yoga (and not clearing my mind), as I drive to work, when I'm in the shower, as I'm drifting off to sleep. Words are like breath for me.
So this summer, I've been working on three projects. Three very different projects to fit my various mindspaces. Here they are:
1. Gratitude: This project is near completion. For years I've wanted to write a nonfiction book for young people that teaches them how to cultivate gratitude. This summer I sat down and plowed through, and now I'm wrapping up the first draft.
2. Reliance: If you follow my blog, then you already know I'm working on this literary fiction novel about a corrupt preacher on his deathbed. It's a slow going project, but it's worth the time. I'm currently sitting still, staring at the page, wondering what happens next. My fingers are poised, and I'm waiting for the story to take its next turn.
3. Sweet Divinity sequel/My Literary Boyfriends: This one is tricky. I have a few stories that are ready to be told, and so are banging on my head with their little hammers, striving to get free and onto the page. The trouble is, I'm not sure which project they are attached to. So I'm writing my stories, releasing them and letting them find their way. Both projects are women's fiction, one of course the sequel to my dear Sweet Divinity, and the other based on my tendency to refer to William Faulkner as my "literary boyfriend". We'll see which project takes flight.
I am a writer. Just as people know that they are teachers, doctors, fathers, artists, musicians, mothers, speakers, comedians, and healers, I know that I am a writer. This monadic heart can explore the world through the written word, and she can bring along a few friends. What a beautiful life, to be a writer.
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Art from Life
A lot of what I write comes from life. Now, don't worry, our personal conversations and your trials and tribulations aren't going to show up suddenly in my next novel. I always ask permission before I use specifics. My friends will now automatically say things like, "And you can use that in your book" or "Okay, I've got something for your next book". So many of the best novels are those that present people as they are, in all of their hilarious, loveable, and broken ways. Don't get me wrong, I've loved many a story with a talking sheep or an android with a heart of gold, but often the ones that really get to me are those that dig at the complexities of the human person.
Books like Sweet Divinity are so obviously inspired by who I am and what I've experienced. Like Amanda Jane, I grew up on a farm and then left home and now live in a bigger city (or at least the suburbs). I, too, find it difficult to reconcile the parts of me that were formed in the country with the rest of me that loves the diversity of experience in a larger hometown. The opening scene of the novel comes from a completely true event that one of my friends experienced in her childhood. While the details are mine, the hilarious circumstance is all hers. And although I'm not a baker like Amanda Jane, I do love a yummy baked good. If you follow me on Instagram, then you already know that I have no resistance when it comes to donuts. Especially the fluffy yeasty ones with that chocolate icing that's slightly firm on top and messy once you skim the surface. I think I sense a metaphor here...
Reliance, my literary fiction manuscript, was of course inspired by photographs I purchased at the country fair last year, an experience I've written about on this blog. However, much of the plot of the novel comes from my life. Several years ago I had a relative who was succumbing to cancer. He had been instrumental in my life, positively, but also negatively, and I struggled with his deterioration and decline. During the period of his struggle, I learned that he had a second, secret family, and this news shook me to the very foundation of who I am. I questioned everything I had experienced in childhood. I questioned everything I knew about him. I questioned the validity of all of my relationships. It was grueling. I tried to write during that time and I could not. It frustrated me, because I believed that if I could purge myself of the pain by transferring it to the page, then I would be okay. Of course, this is not what would have happened, but it couldn't anyway because I simply could not write. I couldn't write a poem, a paragraph, a sentence. It was as if all of my emotional stores were used up. I had nothing to give. And so I lived through that experience (with the help of an amazing counselor), but it remained unwritten. My husband actually collected various "artifacts" from that time and boxed them up, as he put it, "for when it's time to write the novel". The time finally came, and that novel is Reliance.
I'm now beginning work on the sequel to Sweet Divinity. I had a vague idea of where I wanted Amanda Jane's story to go when I wrapped up her first novel. There were several main plot points that I was certain of, but I was still waiting for her to tell me how she would develop as a person. I love sharing her journey, and I want to make sure that I do it justice, that I allow her the emotional development she deserves. And so, for good or for ill, life always provides. This summer has been spectacular so far, but one thing I know for sure is that there will always be another challenge, and that challenge has hit me this week. I'm grateful that, as a writer, I can face my challenges as opportunities, and I can write my way through them. I'm grateful that this time I don't have the emotional block I experienced in the past. This time, I know that I, and Amanda Jane, are ready to live through it. And thus the blinking cursor becomes a manuscript.
Books like Sweet Divinity are so obviously inspired by who I am and what I've experienced. Like Amanda Jane, I grew up on a farm and then left home and now live in a bigger city (or at least the suburbs). I, too, find it difficult to reconcile the parts of me that were formed in the country with the rest of me that loves the diversity of experience in a larger hometown. The opening scene of the novel comes from a completely true event that one of my friends experienced in her childhood. While the details are mine, the hilarious circumstance is all hers. And although I'm not a baker like Amanda Jane, I do love a yummy baked good. If you follow me on Instagram, then you already know that I have no resistance when it comes to donuts. Especially the fluffy yeasty ones with that chocolate icing that's slightly firm on top and messy once you skim the surface. I think I sense a metaphor here...
Reliance, my literary fiction manuscript, was of course inspired by photographs I purchased at the country fair last year, an experience I've written about on this blog. However, much of the plot of the novel comes from my life. Several years ago I had a relative who was succumbing to cancer. He had been instrumental in my life, positively, but also negatively, and I struggled with his deterioration and decline. During the period of his struggle, I learned that he had a second, secret family, and this news shook me to the very foundation of who I am. I questioned everything I had experienced in childhood. I questioned everything I knew about him. I questioned the validity of all of my relationships. It was grueling. I tried to write during that time and I could not. It frustrated me, because I believed that if I could purge myself of the pain by transferring it to the page, then I would be okay. Of course, this is not what would have happened, but it couldn't anyway because I simply could not write. I couldn't write a poem, a paragraph, a sentence. It was as if all of my emotional stores were used up. I had nothing to give. And so I lived through that experience (with the help of an amazing counselor), but it remained unwritten. My husband actually collected various "artifacts" from that time and boxed them up, as he put it, "for when it's time to write the novel". The time finally came, and that novel is Reliance.
I'm now beginning work on the sequel to Sweet Divinity. I had a vague idea of where I wanted Amanda Jane's story to go when I wrapped up her first novel. There were several main plot points that I was certain of, but I was still waiting for her to tell me how she would develop as a person. I love sharing her journey, and I want to make sure that I do it justice, that I allow her the emotional development she deserves. And so, for good or for ill, life always provides. This summer has been spectacular so far, but one thing I know for sure is that there will always be another challenge, and that challenge has hit me this week. I'm grateful that, as a writer, I can face my challenges as opportunities, and I can write my way through them. I'm grateful that this time I don't have the emotional block I experienced in the past. This time, I know that I, and Amanda Jane, are ready to live through it. And thus the blinking cursor becomes a manuscript.
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