I've been in my little house, writing. My current major assignment is a long project, and those close to me have heard me talk about it a lot. But it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided to quit pecking at it and get down to the business of getting it done.
So I assigned myself writing boot camp. No more beach, no more putting it off to watch another episode of Mad Men online (but understand that's just because I've seen every episode now). I would really hunker down for a couple weeks until I could get a chunk completed and momentum going. I would go to my part-time job, come home and write, and get up and write, and then go to work. On the weekends I might see people if I could.
I am now here to say that writing is not the most important thing in my life. It is part of my life, yes, and will continue to be. But I am leaving camp. I can't shut my life off from, well, my life. I did finally get down to business, so I know this radical move was needed, but I couldn't completely go into the monastery of work. It's just not worth that kind of long-term worship.
I missed people. I don't really write about people in the project, and that is always my favorite part. And I can't put people on hold, including myself. And when I look back on the last few weeks, for the most part I didn't. And I am proud of that, of not even realizing that my internal priorities will always trump external assignments.
So here I am, still writing, 1.5 months from the big deadline, but I am here to say I am officially back from camp. I needed it, but now, let's just be sensible and write. And then go to the movies, k?
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Friday, August 17, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Things I learned this week
Life is a series of lessons. Here are some of mine for this past week:
1. Dollar store aluminum foil is a waste of money. Even if it's only a dollar, keep that bill and use it for gum or something. This foil is akin to trying to wrap your leftovers by applying gold leaf.
2. I think too much. I even think about overthinking. It's exhausting.
3. If you feel persecuted or put upon, that's your problem. Say, this isn't working for me. Life is a negotiation, and that negotiation doesn't have to be painful.
4. Allergies get worse as soon as you notice them. Case in point: Why am I sneezing so much? Oh, I must be allergic to cats. Five minutes later = hives, then checking in the mirror for more hives.
5. When the ceiling fan is up too high, the sound is blood chilling, like the rattle on a rattlesnake. You're hot, it's dark, and yet, it's better to sleep with it off. Otherwise, it sounds as if you are just seconds from decapitation.
6. If I have an excuse -- even a flimsy one -- to wear a costume, I take it.
7. If more of you out there would take the costume chance, then I wouldn't be the only pirate (besides the man with the parrot on his shoulder) at the party.
8. Good friends are very good for the soul.
9. People never tire of saying, "Have you thought about writing for Southern Living?" Yes, and if you know anyone there, please feel free to send my name along.
10. If you don't learn the lesson the first time, no worries. You'll have the chance to learn it again. It's your lesson, after all.
1. Dollar store aluminum foil is a waste of money. Even if it's only a dollar, keep that bill and use it for gum or something. This foil is akin to trying to wrap your leftovers by applying gold leaf.
2. I think too much. I even think about overthinking. It's exhausting.
3. If you feel persecuted or put upon, that's your problem. Say, this isn't working for me. Life is a negotiation, and that negotiation doesn't have to be painful.
4. Allergies get worse as soon as you notice them. Case in point: Why am I sneezing so much? Oh, I must be allergic to cats. Five minutes later = hives, then checking in the mirror for more hives.
5. When the ceiling fan is up too high, the sound is blood chilling, like the rattle on a rattlesnake. You're hot, it's dark, and yet, it's better to sleep with it off. Otherwise, it sounds as if you are just seconds from decapitation.
6. If I have an excuse -- even a flimsy one -- to wear a costume, I take it.
7. If more of you out there would take the costume chance, then I wouldn't be the only pirate (besides the man with the parrot on his shoulder) at the party.
8. Good friends are very good for the soul.
9. People never tire of saying, "Have you thought about writing for Southern Living?" Yes, and if you know anyone there, please feel free to send my name along.
10. If you don't learn the lesson the first time, no worries. You'll have the chance to learn it again. It's your lesson, after all.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Music for Writing
I have had a lot of people ask me about my music collection. Or lack thereof. Or just in general, when something is blaring from my phone or computer or -- yep, even boombox -- "What is this?"
Well, you can blame writing.
There was a time when I listened to Dave Matthews, Paula Abdul, and basically anything on Kiss 102 in Charlotte. There was the same time when I was getting those cds for 1 penny (remember that?) and I checked Dr. John and Enya and even Bjork.
Fast forward a few years: I was working on a huge, semester-long writing project in my first semester of grad school, and I discovered writing to music. I had done that before. A bit. But for this project, I looped The Last Temptation of Christ soundtrack. Has anyone heard this work by Peter Gabriel? Does it sound like literary criticism of The Great Gatsby to you? Well, me neither, but for some reason it did at the time. I can still see the color of the carpet of that computer lab when I hear it.
Maybe I've revealed too much, but let's keep going. I wrote a huge paper on Wordsworth and I remember playing "If I Had a Hammer and a Nail" by Simon and Garfunkel for hours on end. On repeat. It reminded me of a 19th century English fair day, for whatever that is worth. My new husband at the time eventually knocked on the office door and said, "Really? Again?" (Amazingly, that romance did not last.)
But mainly what I've learned over the years is that I need either music without words or words not in English. If I listen to too many things in English, I start typing the lyrics instead of what I need to be typing.
So what this sounds like in my day to day life is a lot of jazz, which I will ALWAYS love, and is, to me, the go-to writing music, or music with foreign language singing. You'll hear these often if you come to my abode. I've recently discovered recorded opera (I've as of yet not enjoyed live) and Fado. Oh Fado. You melt my heart.
The best tool ever for all of this is now Spotify. They have not paid me to say this -- I am just that obsessed. Discover. It's worth setting up an account.
Well, you can blame writing.
There was a time when I listened to Dave Matthews, Paula Abdul, and basically anything on Kiss 102 in Charlotte. There was the same time when I was getting those cds for 1 penny (remember that?) and I checked Dr. John and Enya and even Bjork.
Fast forward a few years: I was working on a huge, semester-long writing project in my first semester of grad school, and I discovered writing to music. I had done that before. A bit. But for this project, I looped The Last Temptation of Christ soundtrack. Has anyone heard this work by Peter Gabriel? Does it sound like literary criticism of The Great Gatsby to you? Well, me neither, but for some reason it did at the time. I can still see the color of the carpet of that computer lab when I hear it.
Maybe I've revealed too much, but let's keep going. I wrote a huge paper on Wordsworth and I remember playing "If I Had a Hammer and a Nail" by Simon and Garfunkel for hours on end. On repeat. It reminded me of a 19th century English fair day, for whatever that is worth. My new husband at the time eventually knocked on the office door and said, "Really? Again?" (Amazingly, that romance did not last.)
But mainly what I've learned over the years is that I need either music without words or words not in English. If I listen to too many things in English, I start typing the lyrics instead of what I need to be typing.
So what this sounds like in my day to day life is a lot of jazz, which I will ALWAYS love, and is, to me, the go-to writing music, or music with foreign language singing. You'll hear these often if you come to my abode. I've recently discovered recorded opera (I've as of yet not enjoyed live) and Fado. Oh Fado. You melt my heart.
The best tool ever for all of this is now Spotify. They have not paid me to say this -- I am just that obsessed. Discover. It's worth setting up an account.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Writer Admiration
People who write often talk about work from other writers they admire. Usually, these are fiction writers, at least for most of us. I'd list Faulkner, Hemingway, Lee Smith, Toni Morrison, and many more on such a list, and give us some time, or at least don't stop us, and we'll tell you exactly why. Until you feel you're in the worst version of talking shop:
"The way he builds the character is so subtle that you don't even notice he's drawing you in."
"Her work is so multi-layered that it requires more than one reading."
But for me, I admire many others in my field, which, at least for now, is not fiction. One such person is Julia Reed, a writer who used to write profiles for Vogue, but who've I have been reading in Garden and Gun. Her writing is personal, funny, truthful, and well put together.
But more importantly, she has a distinct voice, which in non-writer speak, means that you can "tell it's her." Case in point: I pulled out an old copy of Conde Nast Traveler recently and got involved on a story on Rio's fashion scene. The writer was self-depreciating yet still very knowledgeable, and I liked her take on things. Flipping back to the byline, it was Reed.
Well done, Miss Julia. I look forward to reading more.
"The way he builds the character is so subtle that you don't even notice he's drawing you in."
"I like his use of the color descriptions to illustrate the mood of the antagonist."
"Her work is so multi-layered that it requires more than one reading."
But for me, I admire many others in my field, which, at least for now, is not fiction. One such person is Julia Reed, a writer who used to write profiles for Vogue, but who've I have been reading in Garden and Gun. Her writing is personal, funny, truthful, and well put together.
But more importantly, she has a distinct voice, which in non-writer speak, means that you can "tell it's her." Case in point: I pulled out an old copy of Conde Nast Traveler recently and got involved on a story on Rio's fashion scene. The writer was self-depreciating yet still very knowledgeable, and I liked her take on things. Flipping back to the byline, it was Reed.
Well done, Miss Julia. I look forward to reading more.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Protecting Your Pain
We like to think that we protect things/people that we care about. Kids. Households. Jobs. Reputations. But pain? We hate pain, right, so why in the world would we want to protect it? Right?
Actually, for most us, there is pain that we don't want to let go. We pet it, ruminate on it, repeat it, check it again and again like that sore tooth that we just can't stop touching with our tongues.
For writers and other people who define themselves as "artistic," this is especially dangerous. For one, we're defining ourselves as something. And two, that definition becomes our story, the fences, the borders of our lives (there's no way I can do x ... y or z). I remember reading about writers' lives in graduate school, really digging into their bios, and thinking, wow, I might not be that good of a writer because I would rather be happy.
Uh .... but then life happened, as it always does. And suddenly, I had my own wounds. Now, before you think that "Nope, this couldn't be the norm. Protecting pain is stupid! Why would I want to hurt?," ponder this. You've been out with a person (person #1) who says they're over someone but just can't stop talking about that person.
Or you're with a person (person #2) who seems to have a deep sadness. They don't want to talk about the past, but they allude to that fact. Instead of it not coming up, they avoid it, keep things surface, etc.
Both of these tactics protect pain.
Person #1 rereads the script over and over, creating a habit, a history, a story that eventually becomes a belief. It's the guy at the VA hospital that grosses out the Candy Stripers by showing his nasty scar and repeating in too much detail how it happened. Note: This is different than processing pain, working through it, sharing with those close to you in order to form stronger bonds. But eventually, those relationships need to grow past the pain, or they will wear out.
Person #2 keeps a bandage over the old wound. There is possession. This is my pain -- you couldn't possibly understand. Note: This is different than "going there" and really looking at something in your quiet time, really shining the light on something in your mind in order to clear out the cobwebs.
Now, if you noticed such a person, well, more than likely you've been that person. I have.
I've been writing a Story of Me for years -- something I repeat to people, highlighting things, but more than that, repeating it to myself. And I have cared about the pain, even though I would've dismissed you if you'd pointed that out. I didn't know I cared about it, but in certain corners of my life, it was still hanging out. And like watching Dirty Dancing for the 71st time, I'd play over that pain again, remind myself of the feelings, the specifics, the whole thing down to the credits.
Here's the real deal. You don't have to drink yourself to oblivion like F. Scott Fitzgerald to be a writer, kill yourself like Sylvia Plath, be depressed like Hemingway, cut off your ear like Van Gogh, or fire people routinely to show your leadership like Steve Jobs. There is no story you have to fill in the blanks to to be a writer or create anything.
Pain is natural, and actually pain is good! It is telling you "Danger! Something is wrong here!" Why would you keep listening to the fire alarm instead of putting out the fire??
Actually, for most us, there is pain that we don't want to let go. We pet it, ruminate on it, repeat it, check it again and again like that sore tooth that we just can't stop touching with our tongues.
For writers and other people who define themselves as "artistic," this is especially dangerous. For one, we're defining ourselves as something. And two, that definition becomes our story, the fences, the borders of our lives (there's no way I can do x ... y or z). I remember reading about writers' lives in graduate school, really digging into their bios, and thinking, wow, I might not be that good of a writer because I would rather be happy.
Or you're with a person (person #2) who seems to have a deep sadness. They don't want to talk about the past, but they allude to that fact. Instead of it not coming up, they avoid it, keep things surface, etc.
Both of these tactics protect pain.
Person #1 rereads the script over and over, creating a habit, a history, a story that eventually becomes a belief. It's the guy at the VA hospital that grosses out the Candy Stripers by showing his nasty scar and repeating in too much detail how it happened. Note: This is different than processing pain, working through it, sharing with those close to you in order to form stronger bonds. But eventually, those relationships need to grow past the pain, or they will wear out.
Person #2 keeps a bandage over the old wound. There is possession. This is my pain -- you couldn't possibly understand. Note: This is different than "going there" and really looking at something in your quiet time, really shining the light on something in your mind in order to clear out the cobwebs.
Now, if you noticed such a person, well, more than likely you've been that person. I have.
I've been writing a Story of Me for years -- something I repeat to people, highlighting things, but more than that, repeating it to myself. And I have cared about the pain, even though I would've dismissed you if you'd pointed that out. I didn't know I cared about it, but in certain corners of my life, it was still hanging out. And like watching Dirty Dancing for the 71st time, I'd play over that pain again, remind myself of the feelings, the specifics, the whole thing down to the credits.
Here's the real deal. You don't have to drink yourself to oblivion like F. Scott Fitzgerald to be a writer, kill yourself like Sylvia Plath, be depressed like Hemingway, cut off your ear like Van Gogh, or fire people routinely to show your leadership like Steve Jobs. There is no story you have to fill in the blanks to to be a writer or create anything.
Pain is natural, and actually pain is good! It is telling you "Danger! Something is wrong here!" Why would you keep listening to the fire alarm instead of putting out the fire??
Monday, April 23, 2012
Don't underestimate research
"I've been to the Jack Daniels distillery."
As soon as it escaped my lips, I knew. I was talking, making bad small talk, actually, with the editor of a BOURBON lifestyle magazine. At that moment, I didn't really know there was a bourbon lifestyle, much less a publication devoted to it.
But there is. Case in point on the Jack Daniels: click here.
Jack Daniels is a Tennessee Whisky, y'all. Not a bourbon. However, the gentleman politely blinked his eyes to gather himself, and then said, "That's great. We're from Kentucky, so Jack Daniels isn't technically a bourbon, but ..."
The essence of politeness, graciousness, and all things the bourbon lifestyle I presume. We smiled and chatted, but I knew the bell was tolling for me. It was obvious I knew nothing, especially not enough to not mention Jack Daniels.
But herein lies the power of research, ladies and gentleman, and a warning. Sometimes life at the little desk is not about writing, but about researching, and on bourbon I was enthusiastic but ignorant.
That means, Steph, you can talk a man under the table any day, and find a 1000 other connections besides this. Do not talk about what you do not know.
This goes for writing too. Yes, you can write an article on ventricular malfunctions, but it will take some serious research unless that field comes to you. And if so, it's easy. If not, you set yourself up for failure, as readers often know more than you in such cases.
For me, food research comes somewhat naturally. I follow food writers on twitter, read food books, follow food news, and well, after all, eat and cook. I enjoy reading about food. But if you think Zaxby's is the height of living, then it could be hard to get serious about food writing.
As for me and bourbon -- I just need to get serious. I am ready for an education past Knob Creek and Maker's Mark. That is, if my palate is worthy of passing those gateways ... if I say I love rye whisky does that help?
As soon as it escaped my lips, I knew. I was talking, making bad small talk, actually, with the editor of a BOURBON lifestyle magazine. At that moment, I didn't really know there was a bourbon lifestyle, much less a publication devoted to it.
But there is. Case in point on the Jack Daniels: click here.
Jack Daniels is a Tennessee Whisky, y'all. Not a bourbon. However, the gentleman politely blinked his eyes to gather himself, and then said, "That's great. We're from Kentucky, so Jack Daniels isn't technically a bourbon, but ..."
The essence of politeness, graciousness, and all things the bourbon lifestyle I presume. We smiled and chatted, but I knew the bell was tolling for me. It was obvious I knew nothing, especially not enough to not mention Jack Daniels.
But herein lies the power of research, ladies and gentleman, and a warning. Sometimes life at the little desk is not about writing, but about researching, and on bourbon I was enthusiastic but ignorant.
That means, Steph, you can talk a man under the table any day, and find a 1000 other connections besides this. Do not talk about what you do not know.
This goes for writing too. Yes, you can write an article on ventricular malfunctions, but it will take some serious research unless that field comes to you. And if so, it's easy. If not, you set yourself up for failure, as readers often know more than you in such cases.
For me, food research comes somewhat naturally. I follow food writers on twitter, read food books, follow food news, and well, after all, eat and cook. I enjoy reading about food. But if you think Zaxby's is the height of living, then it could be hard to get serious about food writing.
As for me and bourbon -- I just need to get serious. I am ready for an education past Knob Creek and Maker's Mark. That is, if my palate is worthy of passing those gateways ... if I say I love rye whisky does that help?
Friday, July 15, 2011
Time is Of the Essence
Ok. I am obsessed with time as a concept, a "reality" and a fleeting thing. Yep. I've always been one to feel like I am running out. Want to get inside my head a little (you asked, right)? Here are some common time-related thoughts:
1. Fitzgerald
had his first novel published at 25 and was a sensation, so I am really behind.
2. On the other hand, William Carlos Williams
didn't start his poetry career until he retired, but let's be honest, it wasn't like he was slacking. He was a doctor.
3. While I'm drying my hair upside down for volume, I can catch up on my reading (been doing this since high school).
4. One day ...
But despite sounding like a bit of a jumpy jackrabbit, I've always had a particular view of time. I view the calendar as a track oval, not as a timeline, and when I visualize the calendar year, it's in 3D in this formation. I haven't come to construct this "calendar track" in my mind -- it's simply always been there.
While in graduate school, I wrote a big paper on time in the works of Faulkner
and Toni Morrison
and asserted that the past, present and future exist simultaneously both in their fiction, and in the world. And although I love my track idea, I envision the yearly track as part of a larger uneven spiral where occasionally the rings come very close together.
As an author who has written numerous accounts of ghostly encounters
, it makes sense to me that in those close spaces of the spiral are when the dimensions are more detectable.
I know it's Friday, but are you with me???
So, you can only imagine that the amazing television series, Through the Wormhole, is rocking my world. The DVR is set, and this week I watched the episode on Does Time Really Exist?
, and it discussed simultaneous time states theory. Perhaps cheering in my living room in response was a major nerd-alert moment, but I am pretty much way past that point now anyway. Watch this show, then ask yourself, what is the "essence of time"?
1. Fitzgerald
had his first novel published at 25 and was a sensation, so I am really behind.2. On the other hand, William Carlos Williams
didn't start his poetry career until he retired, but let's be honest, it wasn't like he was slacking. He was a doctor.3. While I'm drying my hair upside down for volume, I can catch up on my reading (been doing this since high school).
4. One day ...
But despite sounding like a bit of a jumpy jackrabbit, I've always had a particular view of time. I view the calendar as a track oval, not as a timeline, and when I visualize the calendar year, it's in 3D in this formation. I haven't come to construct this "calendar track" in my mind -- it's simply always been there.
While in graduate school, I wrote a big paper on time in the works of Faulkner
and Toni Morrison and asserted that the past, present and future exist simultaneously both in their fiction, and in the world. And although I love my track idea, I envision the yearly track as part of a larger uneven spiral where occasionally the rings come very close together. |
| similar to how I envision |
, it makes sense to me that in those close spaces of the spiral are when the dimensions are more detectable.I know it's Friday, but are you with me???
So, you can only imagine that the amazing television series, Through the Wormhole, is rocking my world. The DVR is set, and this week I watched the episode on Does Time Really Exist?
, and it discussed simultaneous time states theory. Perhaps cheering in my living room in response was a major nerd-alert moment, but I am pretty much way past that point now anyway. Watch this show, then ask yourself, what is the "essence of time"?
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The End of the Beginning
It is time to admit something -- I'm not nearly finished on the fiction project.
This is a big deal for me to say, because in October 2009 I proudly typed "the end" and announced that I was ready to send it to an agent. The agent said that she would still take a look at it, so I formatted away and hit "send." And then I waited.
(Now, please note, I didn't use this time to just paint my nails and take up woodworking. I was still writing a slew of freelance magazine and newspaper articles, moving, and, well, trying NOT to think about the fiction project.) I didn't open the file again, I didn't try to tweak characters or improve plot lines, I simply let it sit, as it was FINISHED.
Boy was I wrong.
You know what happens next, right? That's right. The agent passed on the project, a few months ago after reading the full manuscript, and I still waited. I looked for other agencies, sent other queries, anything except open that file.
But over the past few weeks, instead of dreading the file, I started to miss my characters. And I started to think about the writing itself, that maybe in my work I had tried so hard to write a subtly nuanced story that I nuanced myself out of much of the story. There was a lot more there to explore that I had left untouched. I realized that that October day was just the end of the beginning.
I am thankful, thankful that the agent took so long to respond, thankful that I am not abandoning the project, and thankful that at least the beginning of the next stage is finally illuminated.
So the file is opened. The quintessential red pen is out and I am happy to visit the setting and see my characters again. If I want to read it again, maybe someone else will too.
This is a big deal for me to say, because in October 2009 I proudly typed "the end" and announced that I was ready to send it to an agent. The agent said that she would still take a look at it, so I formatted away and hit "send." And then I waited.
(Now, please note, I didn't use this time to just paint my nails and take up woodworking. I was still writing a slew of freelance magazine and newspaper articles, moving, and, well, trying NOT to think about the fiction project.) I didn't open the file again, I didn't try to tweak characters or improve plot lines, I simply let it sit, as it was FINISHED.
Boy was I wrong.
You know what happens next, right? That's right. The agent passed on the project, a few months ago after reading the full manuscript, and I still waited. I looked for other agencies, sent other queries, anything except open that file.
But over the past few weeks, instead of dreading the file, I started to miss my characters. And I started to think about the writing itself, that maybe in my work I had tried so hard to write a subtly nuanced story that I nuanced myself out of much of the story. There was a lot more there to explore that I had left untouched. I realized that that October day was just the end of the beginning.
I am thankful, thankful that the agent took so long to respond, thankful that I am not abandoning the project, and thankful that at least the beginning of the next stage is finally illuminated.
So the file is opened. The quintessential red pen is out and I am happy to visit the setting and see my characters again. If I want to read it again, maybe someone else will too.
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