Tag: writing

Nothing to do with March

Yesterday, in order to get my thousand words written I had to go to a coffee shop. My housekeeper came and I didn’t want to be in her way. The two of us love to talk and that’s not an activity conducive to writing or to cleaning.

It was my first time to write in a public place, unless one considers the year I worked for a small town newspaper. Then, I was surrounded by other people involved in the same activity. My beat was society news and girls’ sports. I was much better at the second of those than the first.

But on Friday I carried my trusty Dell to the Starbucks on north Monroe and typed with abandon. I ran into a research snag, but thanks to Google and internet friends I got back on track fairly quickly. Fifteen hundred words flowed from my brain to the electronic page. Some of them might even be worth keeping.

As I was writing I recalled a conversation I had with Theodore Taylor, author of The Cay. We were both at a conference for English teachers. I was an attendee and Mr. Taylor was an invited guest. My seventh graders and I had just completed a unit on his novel, and I was delighted to find him at the event.

He told me how he’d written The Cay in a single weekend after encountering a group of black musicians in the lobby of a New Orleans hotel. Something about that experience sparked in him an idea for a book about a young, white boy and a black man who became dependent upon each other for survival.

Every now and then I wonder what it would take for me to write a complete novel in a forty-eight hour time frame. A visit with an alien species? A proposal from Jason Mamoa? It’d almost be like waving a magic wand. Abracadabra!

Peace, people!

A Rousing March

Honestly, I’m not being lazy, but I’m expending 99% of my creativity energy on my ever growing novel. Today (Thursday) I have my Olli class, “Fun with Writing,” at 1:30, so I wrote for a couple of hours this morning before getting ready for class.

The novel is still in the first draft stage, even though I’ve been working on it for more years than I want to think about. In the past I’d write a bit, edit, write some more, edit. It seemed like for every step forward I was taking two steps back. Thanks to the wisdom of our Olli instructor, Heather Whitaker, I’m just writing. No editing as I go. Just getting the story out. It feels good.

One might say, I’m on a mission, an inspired march, if you will. And a good march deserves inspiring music.

How about “Seven Nation Army” by the White Stripes? Rousing!

Generating Words in March

For those readers who aren’t into the masochistic art of writing you might not know that November is a special month known as “National Novel Writing Month,” more commonly called “NaNoWriMo.” During November writers are challenged to complete a 50,000 word manuscript between November 1 and November 30.

Every November I think that this is the year I’ll finally finish my novel. Every year, I fall short of my goal by approximately 49,750 words. Sad, eh? I start strong on November 1, but soon I’m lured away from my computer by thoughts of holiday meal preparations and Christmas shopping and a million other distractions.

Who’s to say, though, that another 30-day month wouldn’t suffice for NaNoWriMo? Why not March? Sure, it lacks the alliterative element, but the math would be the same. I’d still need to average 1,667 words a day to reach the 50,000 mark.

The good news is that over a period of several years, working erratically as the fickle spirit moved me, I have crafted a manuscript that two days ago was sitting right at 25,000 words. (I kept telling folks I was at 35,000–that just shows how long it’s been since I logged into my work. Again, sad.) So, if I can put together 50,000 words in 30 days, I’ll have 75,000 words.

There’s even better news—for the past two days I’ve written right at 1,200 words each day. Of course yesterday I had to pull out about a thousand words that just weren’t working to move the tale along. Those words go into my file titled “Misfit Words” for potential use at another point in the story. Thank heaven for word processing programs, am I right?

Why this burst of activity? Mainly it’s due to the Olli class I’m taking. Our “Fun With Writing” instructor, Heather Whitaker, has given me a figurative kick in the pants to get me unstuck. One technique I’ve found helpful is to interview my main character, or all my characters for that matter.

Ms. Whitaker provided us with a couple of lists of questions to ask characters. One’s the “Proust Questionnaire,” popularized by author/essayist, Marcel Proust as a parlor game. The second list is “Arthur Aron’s” list. Both can be found through a simple google search.

Now, there are a good many questions on both lists, and I didn’t try to ask my character every one. But just picking a few from each list solidified my understanding of the person my main character is. It’s been a game changer. She’s become much more real.

I sincerely hope I haven’t jinxed my current level of activity by writing this post. Sometimes my mind works in counter productive ways, but this feels good. I’m marching onward. Maybe this can be MaMaCoNo or March Maybe Complete Novel. Maybe not. That’s just ridiculous.

Peace, people!

Love of Learning

It might surprise some of you to know that I was not a perfect student. My grades were always good, but I never really applied myself. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what that entailed until I went to college as an “older than average” student and my adolescent children were watching me.

In spite of my rather uninspiring beginnings in education, I’ve always loved learning. From an early age I was fascinated by books. I couldn’t read enough. That kid reading by flashlight under the covers way after lights out? That was me. I read everything: biographies, horror, science fiction, travelogues, poetry. I like to believe I was the Floyd County Library’s best customer, but maybe not. As far as I know there was never an official survey conducted.

Nothing much has changed over the years. I still read a ton; although, thanks to my Kindle paper white I no longer have to use a flashlight to read in bed at night, and excursions to the library are more for research than anything else.

I still enjoy learning. Last fall I took an Olli class at Florida State University on “The Parallel Universe of Ants.” I enjoyed that so much that I signed up for a class this semester, “Fun With Writing.”

The class begins today (2/20), and I confess that I’m apprehensive. I’ve been writing for awhile now, but have I been having fun with it? Do I even know how to have fun in my life, let alone with my writing? Am I going to be expected to share what I’m writing with real live people who’ll be in the same room with me? I suppose these questions and others will be answered soon.

Please keep an eye on this space over the next few weeks to see if I figure out the whole fun thing. I joke, but I’m excited. Learning IS fun.

Peace and love, people!

A Little Love

When I was in fourth grade at R.C. Andrews school in Floydada, Texas, I had a teacher who didn’t like me very much. From day one she scowled at me and never let up. She might also have been scowling at the other students in my class, but her disdain felt pretty personal to me.

She was the first teacher who did not praise my early attempts at writing. I cannot recall a single positive word she ever wrote on a paper I turned in, only criticisms in bright red marks across the page.

Too LONG!

Not long enough!

Too silly!

Too serious!

You used the word love to describe your feelings for your dog and your new shoes. We only use that word for people.

Heck, I know I loved my dog, and those shoes were certainly P. F. Flyers that made me run faster and jump higher. Who wouldn’t love shoes that could do all that?

She once criticized me for using a word that she said was too big for me to understand.

Don’t use a five-dollar word when a fifty-cent word will do.

Of course I later learned that Mark Twain said that, and it makes perfect sense. But in my defense, I did understand the word: voluptuous. I used it in context, too. Perhaps that was the problem.

Floydada was, and remains, a small town. As an adult and a retired teacher I’ve speculated that perhaps this teacher held some grudge against one or both of my parents. Maybe even against my grandparents. And I received the brunt of it.

All I wanted was a little love from her, and if not love, just a little respect.

Take it away, Ms. Aretha Franklin:

https://youtu.be/JzqGZjFnYnA

If I Were a Writer

If I were a writer

I’d dredge up the dirt

The stuff that stifles dreams

And makes everyone cringe,

The grit that scours my heart.

I’d lay my soul bare

Grieve publicly

Take the blame.

Instead, I’m just a wannabe

Writing about nothing that matters

Where no one gets hurt.

Especially not me.

Statue of Sorrow by T.J. Fowler

Draft Choices

If you’re a blogger do you find that sometimes titles for blog posts pop into your head? You might not have anything in mind to write about, then, wham! I have that happen all the time, and sometimes the titles even develop into something that’s printable.

Right now I’m figuratively sitting on half a dozen titles, some I’ve attempted to flesh out with additional words, while others have remained untouched.

Here are a few titles in my draft file. Hopefully by sharing these some creative urge will strike. Otherwise, I’m going to write more about my cat’s urination habits, and I think we’ve all had enough of that. I have anyway.

Things We Mourn (I think this is going to be a poem)

Weighing In (me, talking. Earth shatttering, I know)

Life on Mars (rambling poem–it rhymes sort of)

About Your Mom (everything the grandkids need to know about my daughter, their mom)

That Song (I have no idea)

Collective Whole (A thing I thought and then forgot)

Are you a “Title” person? Does the title come first or do you add one just before you publish? I’m truly curious.

Peace, people

The Write Stuff

Almost every day for more than four years I’ve written something and posted it on WordPress. In the beginning, just pressing the “publish” button was enough to make my blood pressure rise and my palms perspire. Would my words be good enough? Did I have the “write” stuff? What if someone publicly laughed at my incompetence, told me to go back to knitting potholders?*

I used to worry about stats. There were awful days in the beginning when only two or three people, mostly relatives, took the time to read my blog. Then, slowly I gained a few followers, and I began reading others’ blogs and becoming part of a community of writers, until finally I forgot about the nerves and the stats and just wrote. Nowadays I’m liable to hit publish before I’m even finished with a piece. Yeah, I’m laidback like that.

Over the holidays, I took a big step (for me) and submitted a few poems to be considered for inclusion in an anthology about vultures. Yes. Vultures. When I saw the theme I laughed out loud and commented to a blogging friend that I practically live in Vulture Land.

“Then you should write that!” he replied.

I felt as nervous submitting those vulture poems as I did my first few days of blogging. I’m terrible at following instructions–and wasn’t sure I was doing everything as prescribed. Had I successfully removed all identifying information? Were my margins correct? Would my cover letter be too angst-ridden or needy sounding? After walking the floor for a good half hour, I finally clicked the send button.

And now I wait.

*In the first month of blogging a reader told me to cut the bullshit and stop being so cute. In reply I said, I’m sorry, but this is my bullshit, and I can’t help being cute.

Peace, people.

So Far Behind

Who’d ever think that being retired could be so stressful? I took a few days off to enjoy a girls’ weekend in Nashville only to come home to find a couple hundred unread blog posts from people I follow.

I tried to play catch up on Monday evening, but I only got halfway through. And I apologize for not giving my full attention to every post. You’re all wonderful bloggers; otherwise, I wouldn’t be following you. I’ll comment meaningfully at some point. Just not today.

I’m also behind on writing for my own blog. For the first time since I began this adventure in writing I took four whole days off, and the world went on without me. Unbelievable. Here I thought that if I didn’t post something every single day the earth would cease to revolve around the sun.

Laundry piled up in my absence. Email accumulated in my inbox. Text messages went unanswered. Even worse, Studly Doright went unkissed. Well, I hope he did. At least I’ve taken care of that issue.

Tomorrow I’ll make another attempt to catch up. And I might kiss Studly again just for good measure.

Peace, people.

Writing is Hard

Stop laughing! Seriously. I’ve been working on a little novel for a long time now, but I’d run into a roadblock and I didn’t know whether to go over it, around it, tunnel under it, or trash it.

Yesterday morning while the technician was fumfering around with our sick air conditioning unit I had a nudge of inspiration and opened up the dormant manuscript on the computer. Since the story had been abandoned for such a long time I settled in and read it from the beginning. And I have to say I really like it. The characters feel like old friends and the part that once seemed like a major roadblock now feels more right.

You know how when you put on makeup in the morning and at first you aren’t crazy about the way it looks, but if you step away from the mirror for a few minutes and come back to your reflection you look great? No? Well, that happens to me all the time. And that’s exactly how I felt about the perceived roadblock. It now sounded appropriate.

When I got to the place where I’d left off in March I had to figure out how to nudge my characters forward. Now, this might come as a surprise to you, but my characters really like to talk. Several times I’ve had to call a halt to their conversations for the sake of action. I remind them that this isn’t Waiting for Godot. Lazy bums.

I think I’ve accomplished that now. Stuff is happening. People are moving. Jugglers are juggling. Seriously. Now I just need to tie all my loose ends together and complete this thing. For the first time I can actually see a finish line.

Okay, characters, break’s over. Quit talking and follow my lead. The checkered flag is in sight. Maybe I’ve got this. Maybe not. We’ll keep chugging along and hope for the best.

Peace, people.