A Writing Life

Little Bites of Self-Care Easy to Swallow

2012-01-31T16:22:00.000-08:00

We writers – and I suspect all creative types – tend to get down on ourselves a lot. A couple (or a dozen) rejections arrive in the email box and it’s “I’m crap! How did I think I could write and sell a novel? Are my thighs getting bigger?”

Back in December I blogged about showing ourselves some tenderness. And this blog has a similar theme: self-care. And more precisely, internal self-care.

A good friend gave me a book titled The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present In the Life You’ve Got.
After I read a few pages, I immediately bought a copy for my sister and my brother. The messages were that powerful (dare I say life-changing). Each day’s “meditation” is short, sweet and filled with wisdom we already have but sometimes forget or ignore.

At about the same time, I found a great web site called Tiny Buddha: Simple Wisdom for Complex Lives. The tidbits of inspiration come from people like you and me. The site is divided into sections like happiness and fun; meaning and passion; change and challenges; mindfulness and peace; letting go, etc. The success of the site had led to a book of the same title. And it’s fantastic.

My spiritual journey of self-care has been a long one – filled with curbs and potholes mostly of my own making.

That's why I’m so thankful for the lessons these books impart. Won’t you join me for a little bite? I swear you’ll want to savor it over and over again.

What constitutes self-care for YOU? And how do you remember to take care of yourself?

Where Everybody Knows Your Name (and Your Business)

2012-01-13T14:08:00.000-08:00

I’ve been in Texas all week visiting my sister and her family. She lives in Glen Rose, a town of 2,100 people. It’s the kind of town where the pharmacist knows my sister by name; the kind of town that turns out in full force for the opening of the new school gymnasium; the kind of town where gift shop owners on the square encourage shoppers to visit their competition.

Glen Rose is double the population of the town where I grew up; a town I dreamt of escaping my whole childhood. And boy, did I. I went to a state university of 50,000 students. I’ve lived in cities with populations in the millions.

And yet, I ended up living in a small town myself. And although it’s 10 times larger than my sister’s community, it gives me the things I took for granted as a child and the things my sister experiences daily.

My pharmacist knows me by name – which is tough with a name like Mikulencak. I’m likely to see 10 or more people I know just by walking down main street. I have a main street! My office building’s landlord cut my rent in half just so I’d stay in her building.

I’m confident that even big city dwellers find this sense of community in little pockets of their bustling cities.

What about YOUR town (city) makes it home for you?

Try a Little Tenderness in 2012

2012-01-01T09:54:00.000-08:00

My goal in 2011 was to blog once a week. You can see from the posts listed at the left that I did not achieve that goal. I didn’t even make it to two posts in December. On this bright, sunny New Year’s Day morning, I have vowed to let it go. No guilt. No regret.

Which brings me to the word of the year: compassion. Consider it my one resolution for 2012.

A dear friend used to remind me that we seem to have a limitless capacity for compassion – but for others. We rarely have this level of compassion for ouselves. When I speak of ‘compassion,’ I’m referring to its less-used definition: tenderness.

The world is a hard place to begin with, and we tend to make it harder by living with regret, guilt, judgment, self-doubt, anger. When we make a mistake or fail to live up to someone’s (our own?) expectations, we should try a little tenderness. (Hey, that’d make a great song. Oh, it’s already
one. First recorded in 1932 and re-recorded hundreds of times since then. Good job. We need the message to sink in.)

In its most simple form, compassion (tenderness) is the act of just letting it go. Acknowledge the pain or sadness or regret or failure and then say to yourself, “Self, you deserve a break. Let’s move on from this.”

Rarely do we make our deepest inner struggles and fears and doubts known to our friends and family. So, it’s not realistic to hope or assume someone will show us compassion when we need it most. We have to do that for ourselves.

Nothing Like Memories to Send Sadness Packing

2011-12-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

During the holidays, I can get as giddy as a 9-year-old. I listen to Christmas music 24/7 (just the oldies like Bing, Perry and Burl) and watch my lit Christmas tree in a darkened room, and bake cookies to deliver to friends, and obsess over wrapping paper and ribbon and tags. I even think about renting a child so I can show up at the Santa pancake breakfast at McDonald’s.

With a few pounds, I could be Mrs. Claus. In fact, I’ve thought about using Ancestry.com to determine if I have relatives from the North Pole.

All kidding aside, the holidays also make me kind of sad. I have no immediate family in the area. My dad died when I was 18. My mom died eight years ago. My sister’s family is in Texas and they celebrate there to be close to the remaining grandparents. So, I’ve never *hosted* Christmas at my own home.

Still, I’ve decided to tell Sadness to take a vacation in Phoenix this Christmas. This year is about gratitude and remembrance.

As a writer, I value memories – mine and others’ – because they provide the rich details that make any story come to life.

Here are a couple of my fondest memories. Each year, Mom would give a special ornament to the three of us kids (and I still have mine on my tree to this day). Often, they’d be in the same *theme* but my brother would get the Santa, I’d get the angel and my sister would get the elf. The photo to the right is probably 38-40 years old!

Fruitcake was a big deal in our household. And not for giving! The kids would chop the neon-colored fruit and nuts while Mom would make the batter. We’d end up eating fruitcake for breakfast the whole season.

And now for a memory shared by my cousin Kathy. Her dad would hide money in their stockings and my cousins would have to figure out where the bills were hidden. No easy task! One year, he carefully opened a candy bar wrapper and inserted the money, then resealed the packaging. Another year, he went to the trouble of opening walnuts (!) , hiding the money inside, and then gluing the nut back together.

Would you please share one Christmas memory with me while I help Sadness pack its bags?

Savor the 'Now' Like It's the Best Sandwich You've Ever Had

2011-11-30T14:26:00.000-08:00

It must be a function of aging that time seems to fly by at an astounding and alarming rate. December? Already? What happened to November and the six months prior to that?

My (mostly unspoken) fear is that time flies by so quickly because I’m not fully awake; present and attentive to what I feel and do and say each and every day. Kind of like when you drive a familiar route and then, wham…you’re home and you don’t remember passing landmarks along the way. Just yesterday, I was 18. And today I’m 46. That's a helluva blink of an eye.

On Saturday, my nephew graduates from the University of Texas at Austin. He’s very stressed: money woes, grad school applications for himself and his girlfriend, the future.

I wish I could stop time for him so that he could fully be present in the moment, to savor the current milestone before worrying about the next.

It’s hard to do. I often worry about “when” and “if” scenarios instead of sitting with the now.

For me, that might mean having a holiday coffee drink and reading the paper without my Blackberry on the table, blinking at me to check it. Or it might mean enjoying each bite of the amazing BLT at Poppy’s sandwich shop instead of inhaling it so I could get back to work.

What’s going on in your “now” that you want to savor? There’s no time like the present.

Society's Idea of Beauty is Beastly

2011-11-17T10:47:00.000-08:00

My brain is noshing on the notion of beauty today – what it is, how it differs for each of us, how society shapes our ideas on what’s attractive or sexy.

Tawna Fenske, a writer I follow online, recently posted a fun blog entry called “Not so hot boys who make me want to get naked.” She talked about men who have a certain charisma that transcends societal norms of attractiveness. Case in point: Lyle Lovett. (yummy)

Then, last night, I had dinner with my dear friend, Joelle, who is dog-sitting for someone. Sissy, the sweetest little bulldog you’d ever hope to meet, isn’t pretty by anyone’s standards. But to me, she’s BEAUTIFUL. I couldn’t stop kissing her mushed in face. I can’t define in words what attracted me to her but I wanted to scoop her up and take her home.

Joelle and I then talked about how our ideas of beauty have changed as we aged. She’s an avid (i.e., obsessed) road- and mountain-biker so naturally her cute little body is muscled, lean and athletic. She finds the ‘strength’ in her legs beautiful and thanks them for bringing her so much joy.

I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of my hands. I type all day, every day, so I look at them a lot. My fingers are long. My nails have always been really healthy. And now that they are professionally manicured, I can’t stop staring at them! Not only are they utilitarian but they’re sensual and expressive.

What’s beautiful in your world today? Do you find you buck society’s idea of beauty?

To Deonne, my writer friend in Taos: would Billy Bob Thornton make your sexy man list?

When $35 Million Doesn't Equal Success

2011-10-30T13:32:00.001-07:00

Last night I stayed up until 11 p.m. (I know! Can you believe it?) to watch From the Sky Down, a documentary about my favorite band U2 and the production of their 1991 album Achtung Baby. The film chronicles the difficult recording period and the group's creative process.

In April 1987, my friend, Christi, and I saw U2 at The Summit in Houston. Joshua Tree was an astounding album and a phenomenal tour. In fact, we had to stay up all night at IHOP, eating blueberry pancakes and discussing the experience. The four boys from Ireland had skyrocketed to success in a matter of months, moving from arena to stadium venues.

I was astounded to learn in the documentary that the band was far from thrilled about the Joshua Tree tour. They said they’d often leave the stage and have a morose sit-down about how disappointed they were in their performances. Lead singer Bono said they were musically unprepared for their success. Drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. said, “We were the biggest, but we weren’t the best.”

WHAT THE F***? Boys, did you hear the gazillions of women screaming and crying? Did you see the lighters held high? Your album sold more than 25 million copies! The 79 North American shows on the tour sold more than 2 million tickets and grossed $35 million.

The point I’m making is that despite outside appearances, the band still didn’t think they were good enough.

How often do we feel this way in the face of success? Do we downplay milestones in our creative journeys or attribute them to luck? Or worse, do we beat ourselves up that we haven’t lived up to some ideal?

The whole documentary left me feeling a little sad because that album defined an important period in my life and the concert was an extra-sensory overload experience that stays with me today – 25 years later. But it taught me a powerful lesson. Money and fame and millions of adoring fans couldn’t make the boys feel good about themselves at that time in their lives.

I hope I can define success for myself in a way that is more compassionate.

On Growing Old and the Kindness of Strangers

2011-10-21T07:18:00.000-07:00

Last night as my husband and I were about to fall asleep, he said, “I can’t believe you’ll be 64 tomorrow.” Then, he backtracked furiously about having dyslexia and of course, he meant 46. I told him I feel awfully spry for a 64-year-old, or awfully rickety for a 46-year-old. Most days, I fall somewhere in-between.

Just a couple of weeks ago, my sister visited me. It’s weird to realize how we’d both started worrying about our aging bodies at about the same time in our lives. Age spots, wrinkles, neck waddles, crepey skin (girls, you know what I mean).

Naturally, we found ourselves in the Oil of Old Lady (Olay) aisle at the Rite-Aid perusing the various skin care miracles. The price of that stuff is enough to scare the wrinkles right off you!

Anyhoo. After a few minutes, I grabbed a kit that contained a few different products. I turned it over to check the price. On the back were two yellow Post-it notes. One said: Yes, you are! The other: Beautiful just the way you are.

I grinned. A huge grin. The kind of grin that stays with you for hours. Days.

We left the Rite-Aid without purchasing anything. One simple, beautiful note from a stranger erased a lot of the self-judgment we’d arrived with.

I’m left with two thoughts:

Let’s be kinder to ourselves and to all women and girls. Life is too short to feel inadequate at any age.
Words are powerful. Let’s be careful to use them to uplift rather than tear down.

If you have a Post-it note handy, write a kind note and leave it in a library book, a menu, a bathroom stall, the gym locker room. I'm guessing you'll be responsible for a huge grin.

An Ode to Dreams Come True

2011-09-23T08:14:00.000-07:00

I'm in awe of those writers who keep up their blogs. I'm either a procrastinator or time is now on supersonic speed and days fly by faster than ever before. (Probably a little of both?)

So, today's post is an ode to dreams coming true.

First, my awesome friend and college roommate, Christi, is inches away from being a REAL PUBLISHED AUTHOR. She signed a two-book deal some months ago and the first book debuts in early January. She's just released the cover to NIGHT SCHOOL -- which makes me all tingly because it's tangible evidence of a dream come true. Congrats, dear friend!

Second, my dear friend Carson celebrated the opening of her photography studio last night (Red Scarf Shots). I arrived to find the charming little space packed with friends and supporters. I'm not joking when I say you could feel the love! Recently, I was a subject for Carson's next photo exhibit (December in Durango, and February in LA). When she put out a call for subjects, I emailed immediately and said "Hell, yeah, count me in." She was in awe of my response. I told her that it was a no-brainer. I trust and admire her artistic vision and am honored to be part of her journey. Dreams-come-true are better shared, right?

The fact that I was able to go part-time with my day job and carve out full days like today for writing is also a dream come true. As is the fact that two of the most successful agents in the country have a copy of my manuscript at this very moment! (Talk about feeling all tingly!)

"Living the dream" is possible on so many levels. Wherever you are today, I hope that you're living at least a part of the dream that you envision for yourself. And it you're not, why not start now?

Don't Wake Me If I'm Dreaming

2011-09-10T08:01:00.000-07:00

In the novel Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norell, two characters (Emma and Stephen) are forced each night to attend balls in the Faerie kingdom of Lost-Hope, where they dance all night long. During the day, they have no knowledge of this ‘second life’ they lead — and understandably, they’re exhausted!

Ever since I was a child, I’ve had vivid dreams — and multiple dreams — every night. Some are just odd or whimsical, some frightening and foreboding. I often liken my overactive ‘dream life’ to the fate of Emma and Stephen. It sometimes seems that I lead two lives and that if I didn’t dream, I might feel more rested. (Hey, it’s a theory.)

What I find most fascinating about dreams are the unique, extremely specific details. Last night I dreamt that my cousin Kathy and I visited an antique shop. I entered a storage room to view an antique table and chairs from China. The details were so clear: the black and red lacquer finish, the intricate carvings on the tabletop, the red silk of the chair covers, the ‘feet’ of the table legs that resembled lion’s paws. Next, I browsed dusty shelves where I found an old leather-bound church hymnal. It was square and the spine of the cover had pulled away from the browned and aged pages inside.

Have I seen these items somewhere before? Or are our minds capable of storing a million (billion?) tiny bits of data that we draw on to construct these dream worlds? Do we tap into a collective unconscious as Jung would suggest?

I don’t have the answers but as a writer, the questions compel me. When I construct a world on paper, what images do I rely on? My own memories? The images absorbed through movie, television, books? Or, do our imaginations — like our dream worlds — draw on the collective unconscious?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Do you dream? Where do you think your dreams come from?

Getting There One Kick in the Butt at a Time

2011-08-31T15:44:00.001-07:00

This evening, I'm working on my application for Hedgebrook, a women's writing residency on Whidbey Island near Seattle. Thought I'd share my answer to one of the questions on the application. Now you have some insight to how I became a fiction writer!

Who or what has influenced or inspired you and your writing?

I wasn’t one of those girls who knew at age six that she wanted to be a writer. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up – except a thousand miles from the town of 1,200 where I lived. Then, several teachers throughout my junior and high school years suggested I try writing as a profession. They were adults. They knew more than I did about life. So after graduation, I decided to pursue a journalism degree… only to have a well-respected writer from Texas Monthly magazine (who happened to live in my tiny hometown of 1,200 people) tell me I didn’t need a ‘goddamn j-school degree.’ He said to study political science or philosophy or go see the world instead. Alas, I ignored his advice, finished up j-school and became a reporter. For the next two decades of my career I continued as a nonfiction writer and editor, working for national nonprofits and the United Nations.

Up until 2009, fiction was something I read. I didn’t want to write fiction. No way. No how. Well, until the Universe smacked me on the head one day with an idea and told me to sit my butt down at the computer and write.

I protested: “I have a day job. I didn’t have time for this foolishness. I don’t know anyone else who writes fiction!” To stop my whining, the Universe introduced me to AROHO, or A Room of Her Own Foundation. It said, “Go to the desert and make nice with other writers. It’ll be good for you.” So, I showed up at Ghost Ranch in August 2009 for my first AROHO women’s writer retreat. I met 80 women with niggly voices in their heads calling them to write poetry, plays, short stories, novels. Together, we took classes from women who’d been published, who’d made it as “real” writers. We told them our fears and they wrapped their collective arms around us and told us to be brave, to listen closely to the voices, and of course, to sit our butts down and write.

At that retreat, I met two women who went on to shape the next two years of my writing life more than anyone or anything else:

Flash fiction writer Pamela Painter introduced me to the “short form” and I fell in love with telling stories using a brevity of words. I had two pieces published that next fall in literary journals and then had proof that yes, indeed, I write fiction.

A literary agent (who shall remain anonymous) critiqued the first chapter of my novel in progress. She said it was trite with clichéd characters, and too dark to be marketable. That evening, I sat alone in the desert, watching a brilliant lightning storm and crying my eyes out. I’d tasted rejection for the first time and I survived. Little did I know how much rejection awaited me…the fiction writer.

As my nephew told me recently. "Mandy, you can't not write. It's who you are. Trying to imagine a different kind of life is giving up."
Please tell me about that person, place or thing that influenced you are today...or who you want to be in the future!

Spying, Eavesdropping and Other Techniques for Location Research

2011-08-24T07:47:00.000-07:00

Last year, I met an interesting writer named Jeff Posey. At the time, he was the chief organizer of the Dallas Fort Worth Writers' Conference. I soon found out he's familiar with Southwest Colorado, and even plans to move to Pagosa Springs one day, a community just 45 minutes from where I live in Durango.

Because we both recently conducted location research for our novels in progress, we thought we'd have an online 'chat' and then share our insights with other writers (and anyone else interested in our writing journeys). Below is an excerpt and then a link to the full 'chat.' Please forward to any writers you think would be interested!

--------------------------------------------------
JEFF

Don’t you wonder sometimes whether we’re truly the writers — or whether there’s a secret galactic box somewhere that just uses us to tell stories?

I know what you mean by stories latching on to us. I’d doggedly hiked nearly every trail in the Weminuche Wilderness in Southern Colorado (near you in Durango), but I’d avoided all the ancient Anasazi ruins in that part of the world because I thought they’d be boring.

Then on a trip with my son to the Chimney Rock Archaeological Area between Durango and Pagosa Springs, this boy ran across our path. I put my hand out to keep my son from running into him. The boy was a figment of my imagination, of course. A figment I couldn’t shake. Hence my surrender to the grip of the galactic box that wanted me to write Anasazi historical fiction.

I just returned from Pagosa Springs on a book research trip. I took a class in making authentic Anasazi pottery (see more here: Ancient Arts Chimney Rock Workshop). I find myself looking mostly for experiences, sensual input I guess. Do you do that as well? Do you intentionally seek out a place, perhaps at a certain time or date, just to see what it feels like?

MANDY
I absolutely believe in something like that secret galactic box 'choosing' us to be the vessel for the story that needs to be told. I had titles for all three books come to me in a very out-of-body woo-woo way, and I just had to say, "Okay. I'll get started..."

I love the idea of 'sensual input' in regards to research. That's exactly how it felt in Opelika. The story takes place in July and I visited in July so I experienced first-hand how very uncomfortable the heat and humidity are -- for me and my characters. I ate the food -- Southern, deep-fried, comforting, artery-clogging, digestion-challenging. I drank sweet tea and sat in neighborhoods, looking at houses where I thought my characters might live. I made sure I noted when the sun set, when the mosquitoes and crickets came out, how hot it was at 9 p.m. or 6 a.m., the driving distance between different places. I listened to that lilting, captivating accent of the region.

By the end I was exhausted from being so hyper-vigilant. I might have tried to absorb too much in a three-day trip. But the book will be different, better because of this trip.

I'm wondering if anything surprising came from your research? Something that stopped you short, something you knew had to be part of your book.

JEFF
Oh, yeah. Slapped me into a dead stop for a few seconds: Shining White Greathouse at Chimney Rock. I’ve been on the tours maybe a dozen times, but somehow the mental image escaped me until this trip. You know that beautiful stonework we associate with the Anasazi? Those stones the sizes of loaves of bread with smaller stones shoved between them in courses? The Anasazi covered that up with white plaster. Imagine walking from Chaco Canyon (90 miles as a crow flies) to Chimney Rock and seeing that shining white building high on the tilted mesa.

I know exactly what you mean by the exhaustion of hyper-vigilance in doing site reconnaissance. I climbed Pagosa Peak’s southwestern face to see if a bunch of boys in my novel could build and light a bonfire there that could be seen from Chimney Rock. It’s a rugged place. Building a bonfire wouldn’t be easy, but could definitely be done. Imagining my characters there wore me out as much as the hike and climb.

I love the details you describe and that you captured. I tried taking notes, but that seemed to fail me. I took lots of snapshots. Otherwise, I just rely on memory to tell me the things I need to remember.

READ THE FULL CONVERSATION, including the Top Three Pieces of Advice for Location Research!

Virtually Impossible to Feel Alone

2011-08-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

Recently, a friend asked if I feel isolated as a writer. I do at times, because I’m one of those “in your head” people in the first place. I feel most isolated when I struggle to explain to non-writer friends why I put up with rejection, self doubt and a rapidly changing, and often times, subjective industry. Or, when I try to describe the exhilaration of a great writing day or an agent request for chapters.
That’s why it’s so important for me to connect with other writers, even if that’s virtually. My connections to the following folks have been organic. The Universe must be hard at work because I didn’t go looking for these awesome supports. While I have lots of local support, this is my “Around the World” list of people who have shaped my writing life.

Tracy – a writer in North Carolina introduced to me via our common friend, Deb (my former Goodwill colleague). Tracy has been an invaluable beta reader and all-around cheerleader.

Jeff – the 2011 director of the Dallas Fort Worth Writers Conference who happened to notice my email is DurangoWriter. That sparked his interest because he owns land in Pagosa Springs, just a short 45-minute drive from here. We recently collaborated on a virtual “chat” about what it’s like to do research for our novels on location. And he wears cool fedoras.

Kat B. – an American writer living in Japan who sponsored a critique contest as a clean water fundraiser. I entered the contest and we began to exchange emails. I learned we share a love of baking as well as writing. Even, halfway around the world, she has offered support in so many ways.

Christi – my college roommate living in the UK who reconnected with me via Facebook after almost 25 years. Besides giving me the most awesome feedback on my first novel, she inspires me with her writing. Her debut novel, Night School, comes out in early January. I wish I could be there for LAUNCH DAY. And her husband is pretty darn fun to follow on Twitter.

The four authors who started a free online writers’ conference called WriteOnCon – These ladies do this on their own time without compensation! They put thousands of writers around the world in touch with each other and with industry pros. Just this week, at the second annual WriteOnCon, I got a request from an agent to see three chapters and a synopsis after I participated in a virtual pitch session.

AuthoressAnon – This amazing woman remains anonymous but she’s single-handedly created a unique pitch contest that links writers with agents EVERY MONTH. She also coordinates something called the Baker’s Dozen Agent Auction, where writers can submit the first 250 words of their novels for 13 agents to peruse. My entry this month has received some positive reviews from fellow writers and from the agent reviewing the snippets. Thank you, Authoress!

The writers whose blogs inspire me to push forward – Tawna Fenske, Anne Riley, Kiersten White, Mandy Hubbard, Rebecca E., and many others too numerous to mention.

So, yes, I do feel isolated at times. But I don’t have to, as long as I have an Internet connection…and make an effort to get out of my own head.
What kinds of virtual connections have YOU made?

A World That's Touch and Go?

2011-08-09T16:28:00.000-07:00

I love when three seemingly random occurrences suddenly gel as an aha! moment. The theme today is tangibility, as in “that which can be discerned by touch.”

Here are the occurrences that started me on the tangibility tangent.

My musician friend Tim just self-released a CD and my copy arrived in the mail last week. I held it in my hand and thought, “Wow. This is for friggin’ real.” I put it in my car CD player and whoa, there’s Tim playing guitar and singing his heart out.
A work colleague sent me some black and white photos of spectacular scenery at Dinosaur National Park in Colorado. They were Ansel Adams quality works. I found out that he lugs around tons of camera equipment and still uses FILM. That’s right – no digital camera for Mark. He even has his own darkroom.
I bought my nephew Hunter a Kindle for helping me with some home improvement projects this summer. We had an interesting talk on printed books versus e-books – particularly what will it be like for him to teach comparative literature one day at the university level. Will his students even use printed books?

My next thought was “I sure hope my first book gets published before print books go the way of the dinosaurs and become museum oddities.”

That gut-level reaction spoke to the need (desire?) to hold something solid in hands so I could shout, “Here’s my book! Lookie! I’m published!” Wouldn’t I still be published if the book was only available electronically?

Most of the books I read now are e-books. I rarely buy CDs because I download most of my music to an iPod nano. I use a digital camera for all my photography and “store” photographs on the computer instead of in albums or boxes in the closet.

I have no doubt that Tim’s music would have been just as amazing as a download, or that Mark could use a fancy digital camera to take the same breath-taking photos.

We live in the digital age and most of us are pretty comfortable with that notion on a day to day basis. And my “aha” moment is that I’m okay with e-publishing if that’s what’s meant to be. I’m curious what you think. Is our world becoming less tangible bit by bit, or will our notion of tangibility just need to morph?

Humidity as Thick as Cheese Grits (I Must Be in Opelika)

2011-07-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

As I write this, I’m sitting on the veranda of the clubhouse at the Robert Trent Jones Grand National Golf Course in Opelika, Alabama. It’s 95 degrees and the humidity is as thick as the cheese grits I ate for breakfast. Still, I’m enjoying my view of the 18th green. You see, it’s where a funeral service will be held for Ned Pinckney, a murder victim in my next book.

I’m spending a couple of days here in Opelika to soak in the unique atmosphere (kind of like all the grease my body is soaking up because I insist on eating fried food at every meal). I wanted authenticity and it’s authenticity I’m getting!

Everyone asks why I chose Opelika and I always say, “I didn’t choose Opelika. It chose me!”

Almost 18 months ago, I spent a lovely weekend in Alabama with my friend Jane, her mother Annelle and our mutual friend Wendi. All these ladies are ‘suhthuhn’ through and through. The hospitality they showed me still wraps around me like a soft worn blanket. I should call them up from time to time just to hear that accent. (“What accent?” they’d probably say. “We talk raht. It’s everyone else who doesn’t.”)

Anyhoo…during my visit, I learned of the town of Opelika. That darn word stayed in my head. “Opelika! Opelika! Opelika!” my subconscious shouted to me each day. The melodic and unforgettable word (which means Large Swamp) demanded its place in my book. Hell, it demanded to be in the TITLE of the book!

So, I had a title long before I started writing The Opelika Ladies Murder Society. And guess what? I named the main character Annelle… one, because she has such a cherished space in my memories and, two, it’s the kind of name – like Opelika – that takes a hold and won’t let go.

More atmosphere (and humidity) awaits me on my travels. Can’t wait to start injecting tidbits of Opelika life into the manuscript.

Is the Grass Really Greener in Paris?

2011-07-06T17:15:00.001-07:00

On July 4th, my nephew and I saw a movie while the rest of the family golfed. I chose “Midnight in Paris,” Woody Allen’s new movie, because it was at the local theatre with the best popcorn. While a bit sentimental, the film still held a lot of charm in the way it demonstrated the age-old illusion people have that a life different than theirs would somehow be better.

The movie’s main character, a writer, “time travels” each midnight to his idea of the golden age: 1920s Paris. He rubs shoulders with F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Picasso, Hemingway, Dali, Gertrude Stein and others. These excursions are his escape from a wholly unsatisfying life as a Hollywood screenwriter to a romantic, creative era more conducive to the arts and writing.

He meets an alluring woman during one of these late night adventures. She finds 1920s Paris boring and is looking for her own golden age, which turns out to be the 1880s in Paris, the age of Gauguin, Rousseau, Degas and Monet.

In the end, he realizes he’s the architect of his present; he can make it whatever he wants it to be. He breaks up with his fiancé and stays on in Paris to write his novel.

It’s only human to want something better for ourselves. And I don’t think that’s wrong. What gets us in trouble is thinking that the “something better” exists elsewhere. It’s always within reach because the something better is in us, right there for the taking.

Yes, writing my novel at a little cafe in Paris sounds idyllic, but it’s also expensive. I kind of like that I can find inspiration right here in little Durango at one of the many little coffee houses.

Can We Exercise Our Imaginations?

2011-06-22T13:01:00.000-07:00

I recently saw a tweet from an agent who said she wanted to thwack the next writer who talked about his or her muse. She asserted that writing’s hard work and that you can’t wait for inspiration to strike.

I agree with the “not waiting” part but I also think we can develop our ability to be inspired. We can make it a proactive process.

This notion was triggered by my responses to two photos I ran across. A dear friend sent a photo of her grandsons at play -- that unabashedly joyful time as children where we easily suspend reality. How great it would be to recapture that feeling of expansiveness and freedom? We could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. Talk about inspiring!

The second photo is of my father. I didn’t know my dad very well – and know very little of his life shortly after WWII when he lived with his friend, Dutch, in San Diego. A cousin sent me the photo to the right. My dad’s on the right in the photo but he doesn’t look like the dad I knew growing up. When I first saw the photo I thought to myself, “There’s a good story somewhere in there.” That’s because I took the time to notice details – the white tee and cuffed jeans, the large Schlitz beer in his hand, the bracelet around one wrist, his odd expression.

Do you agree that we can train ourselves to be inspired? Or is inspiration something that comes from outside of us? A little of both?

Does Your Gratitude Adjustment Include Leprechauns and Red Leotards?

2011-06-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

Last week, Andy’s back went to spasms so I had to drive him to a massage appointment one evening. Bored and with nothing to do in the waiting room, I began leafing through a small book on the coffee table titled 14,000 Things to Be Happy About by Barbara Ann Kipfer.

The author kept a list for 20-something years and then threw it all together for a book. (What can’t be published these days?)

Some things that made Barbara Ann happy were:

Absurd – leprechauns, red leotards, Sun-In hair lightener , the TV show “Dallas”

Admirable – world peace, love, justice

Redundant – happy times

Obvious – wine with a friend, fresh flowers, D.H. Lawrence, wedding cake

Inspired – smell of Play-doh, X-acto knives, little boxes of breakfast cereal

Reviews on Amazon.com are mixed. Seems readers took issue with items they refused to believe made Barbara Ann (or anyone) happy. They really didn’t *get* it. The book is about using our own imagination; remembering all those things that make us happy that may or may not make sense to others.

The little book was a much needed gratitude adjustment for me. I’ve started my own list. It may not be publishable but it’s a great reminder that we’re all so very different – and that’s a little fantastic (to borrow a phrase from the Fantastic Mr. Fox).

Here’s something from my list: seeing a car go by with a dog sitting in the passenger seat like a person.

Won’t you share one thing that makes you happy?

The Memorial Day Weekend Movie Edition

2011-05-27T07:15:00.000-07:00

This long holiday weekend is the un-official start of summer …which means movies, movies, movies. I go to the movies almost every weekend (all year long). I love the whole experience, from popcorn and Diet Coke to previews to the end credits.

Rarely am I disappointed because, after all, I enjoyed my popcorn and Diet Coke. However, I noticed a thread on Twitter recently about movies that didn’t do justice to the books that inspired the film versions.

My all-time favorite book is A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. The movie Simon Birch was based loosely on the novel. It was horrible. I wished I’d never seen it. Blah. Gack. Brrf. Yet, I thought the Harry Potter movies did a fairly good job of keeping the flavor of the books.

I anxiously await the premiere of The Hunger Games movie. I LOVED that series by Suzanne Collins. I have high expectations based on the actors they’ve assembled thus far.

What are your book-to-movie experiences? Any movie really capture a favorite book? Any movie really mess up a favorite book?

Choose Your Weapon: Words or Sticks and Stones

2011-05-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

We were taught at a very early age that “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.” I’m sure our parents meant well, but let’s face it…they lied. Words have a lot of power. To hurt. To heal. To inform. To deceive. To entertain.

As a writer, I appreciate that words can do those things and more.

As a human being, my feelings got hurt this morning when a jerk wrote the following about a one-page excerpt from one of my novels:

If more than three people in the world buy this load of catflap, I'll eat my laptop.

The comment was posted at Page99Test.com, a site where authors post page 99 of their works in progress so that readers can vote whether they’d turn the page or not. There is a comments section…which is where I found the catflap nonsense.

The interesting thing is that I also received this comment:

The situation is instantly gripping and many details (the room smells of mold and cigarettes -- what a combo!) ignite on the page. This could be a John Grisham thriller. Good work.

The hurt I felt this morning passed quickly. And the pride about the second comment passed just as quickly. Why? Because how I feel about my writing – about myself – comes from within myself. Too often we base our self-esteem on how others view us – or how we want them to view us (rich, thin, sexy, smart, professional, talented).

Readers, what do you think? What makes you feel good about yourself despite what others might say?

Why I Need Your Crazy Aunt Myrtle's Dentures

2011-05-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

As I writer, I keep my eyes and ears open for interesting settings, unusual people, strange conversations at the coffee house. I jot down these details in case they’re a good fit for a novel or short story I’m working on.

It may just be a germ of an idea that will take root later. For example, the other night my husband said he’d love to know the exact date and time of his death; that it’d make it easier to know how long to work, when to retire, when to take that trip he’s always wanted to take. I disagreed with him (long story) but the point is that I now have a great idea for a short story where a group of couples form a commune off the grid so that they can keep the dates of their children’s deaths a secret from them.

Sometimes I have really great luck in running across ideas. Other times (like now!) I am asking my blog readers to help me.

I am working on novel number three. The main characters are women in their 60s and 70s in a long-standing book club. I have some general ideas of who these women are: one’s a socialite, one’s a hippy, one’s a retired school teacher. But I need to see them in my mind. That’s where you come in.

Do you have a crazy Aunt Myrtle you could describe to me? Does she play with her dentures, eat only beige foods, or garden in the rain? Is your Grandma Hattie a socialite who’s lost all her money and traded in her real jewelry for cubic zirconia?

I’d love to hear any unique, quirky character traits some of your older relatives possess or possessed when they were alive. I may use these details -- or they just may be the germ of an idea that will blossom over time.

One End, New Beginnings

2011-05-04T09:14:00.000-07:00

Yikes! Where did the month of April go? And shame on me for not blogging once. I found these two quotes recently and wanted to share:

“The worst thing you write is better than the best thing you didn't write.”
“If you wait for inspiration to write, you’re not a writer. You’re a waiter.”

I haven’t really figured out my latest bout with writer’s block (writer’s procrastination). At first, I blamed it on my day job creeping into my writing days. But who let that happen? Me, myself and I. In truth, it’s more about a funk I’ve dropped into since completing two books and not finding an agent yet. It’s been hard to throw every bit of myself into these books, truly believe in them, and still not get them recognized.

Agent and prolific blogger Rachelle Gardner recently wrote a column titled 4 Reasons You Should Write Several Books before Seeking Publication.

Eye-opening, sobering and hard to swallow – yet pretty on target. Sometimes writers need to strengthen their craft. Sometimes they need to write a book that’s more marketable. Sometimes we need to let go of the things we love, even if that thing is a manuscript.

It’s time to commit to book 3 — I’d hate for it to be the best thing I didn’t write.

Just Who Do You Think You Are?

2011-03-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

One goal of The Artist’s Way course in creativity is finding ways to silence the destructive voices that derail when we try to follow our dreams. They warn us:

1. You can’t do that.
2. You’re not good enough.
3. People will laugh/talk/judge.

I’ve completed The Artist’s Way once – and have revisited several chapters since then. And you know what? I’m still listening to those destructive voices. It takes almost a daily meditative practice to remind myself that those are old scripts that have no place in my life anymore.

Last night I had dinner with a friend of mine whom I consider brilliant, bold and powerful – a pillar of self-confidence. We began talking about how we limit our possibilities. Yes, even she struggles to silence the voices.

She brought up a common and destructive phrase that all of us have used from to time. It’s so generic and open-ended that it’s easy to call up on a moment’s notice.

“Who am I to think I can__________?” [fill in the blank]

Who am I to think I can be a published author?
Who am I to think I can learn to play the bass guitar?
Who am I to think I can open a successful art gallery?
Who am I to think I can influence my city council/state senator/Congressman/President?
Who am I to think I can ask for what I need in this moment?

My friend and I agreed to form a *buddy system* so that when either of us lapses into this thinking, the other can kick her butt. But since most of this destructive thinking is internal, we may be on our own to stop this futile exercise. Maybe we can all just STOP and BREATHE…and then write a different script.

What have you told yourself was impossible but you made it happen anyway? Or what have you vowed to do for yourself in the future?

What's That, You Say?

2011-03-15T18:26:00.000-07:00

Clear communication is as rare as unicorns. And it’s easy to understand why. Even when words are in black and white, we all read with a lens that is uniquely our own. That lens draws on the baggage, beliefs and assumptions we’ve accumulated over a lifetime.

Let’s take e-mails as an example:

Brief, to-the-point e-mails are often viewed as terse.
E-mails with tons of exclamation points and emoticons can be construed as over-the-top or insincere.
One supercharged word can alienate the reader from the get-go and the rest of the message is essentially lost.
Long e-mails will be scanned by busy people and the most salient point can be overlooked.

Now, extrapolate these assumptions to longer communications like personal letters, reports or even books. We all have the same 26-letter alphabet to string together words, phrases and paragraphs. Are we certain that our apology comes off as sincere or that our argument is persuasive and not snarky?

What’s that you say? People should communicate face-to-face and there wouldn’t be these problems?

Ha! And double ha, I say to you. In-person communication can be just as fraught with inaccuracies based on perceived attitudes, gestures, body language, etc. We may be so antsy waiting for our turn to speak that we completely miss nuances in the other person’s words. A person looks at his watch and we think he's not interested in what we're saying.

So, how do we become clearer in our communications? Let me know what’s worked for you – or if you have any examples of miscommunications to share.

The Ripple Effect

2011-02-27T06:56:00.000-08:00

Last week I was in Charleston, SC, for Goodwill’s annual meeting. To make a long story short, I hate to travel for work. The flying, the food, the hotel stays. BUT…the bright spot is visiting with Goodwill colleagues I don’t see but twice a year or so.

Two conversations touched me deeply and stay top of mind even a week later.

A Goodwill CEO from Michigan (who used to be a colleague of mine and is still a dear friend) mentioned over dinner that she reads my blog. No one ever comments on the blog so I assumed very few people even read it! She said she was so inspired by my passion for writing that she has begun to capture on paper her memories of her mother (who is 95 years old).

The next day, another staff member at Goodwill’s national headquarters engaged me in a conversation about how much he wants to begin writing and that he feels stuck. He, too, mentioned my blog. I shared my struggles and some resources that help me. Later he emailed and asked if we could chat monthly to keep him on track. I am so honored that he asked.

Rarely do we have evidence of how our actions affect others. It reminds me of what the keynote speaker at the conference said: Our actions and words always leave a wake. I feel blessed that these friends shared where the ripples of my writing ended up.

Friday, Friends and Rollercoasters

2011-02-18T15:29:00.000-08:00

I hate rollercoasters. Yet, I’ve chosen a profession that makes me feel like I’m trapped on one.

Whhhheeeeee! Manuscript finished and ready to send to beta-readers.
Whoooaaaaaah! Revisions, twists, turns, can I actually make it up that incline?
Yeeeeeeee! Literary agent is interested.
Owwwwwww! Rejection – and I'm upside down with my heart in my throat and my lunch about to come up.
Wheeeeeeee! Great idea for a new book. Can't wait to get started!

You get the picture. It’s a constant back-and-forth-up-and-down-full-speed-ahead-full-stop type of existence. It’s making me kind of crazy. (Husband would dispute "kind of.")

Some days, it's a monumental task to stay focused and positive in the face of rejection. Good thing I have friends, family and fellow writers who support me no matter what.

I recently entered blurbs from Hannah’s Half in contests held on writer and agent blogs. Other writers who commented were thoughtful and encouraging, even when making critiques. My sister-in-law, Camm, tweeted me with enthusiastic comments while she read Hannah’s Half – in one day. My husband, Andy, exclaimed "Goose poop!" at the agent who emailed with a 'pass' this morning.

So, today I want to say thanks to Andy, Tessa, TracytheWriter, TracytheFriend, Camm, Christi, Wendi, Arlene, Jenni, Hunter, Micki, Kathryn, Alison, Tim, Joanie, my bookclub and the dozens of others who always ask how the current book is coming along, who always give a “like” on Facebook when I post good news, who always suggest ways to pamper myself when I get bad news, who always read a blog about writing just because the care about me.

What Would St. Valentine Say?!

2011-02-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

In honor of Valentine's Day, Oasis for YA, an online community for writers of young adult fiction, has asked writers to post a romantic and/or sexy excerpt from their books. The following is from my novel, Hannah's Half. A bit of info to set the scene: Hannah's love interest, Adam, is a ghost who's unable to move on to the afterlife. He and Hannah are twin flames (or halves of the same soul) who've spent several past lives together ... each time with disastrous results.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need you, too, Hannah.”

He kissed me roughly and I kissed him back. When he pushed me onto the bed, I didn’t stop him. He pulled off his tee shirt, which left his hair disheveled and wild. He straddled me while we both pulled at my tee shirt.

“What if this doesn’t work?”

He stopped my question with another kiss — long and deep and perfect. I unzipped his pants and he pushed my hands away, removing his own jeans while I tore at mine. Our knees bumped clumsily as we kicked to free our legs.

Touching Adam felt like being under water. Our movements became softer and slower as if I was buoyed by the pressure of his body. His kissing slowed and his hands became less desperate and more deliberate. I shuddered when he pulled my leg around him.

Every movement I made was accompanied by a flash of memory; all our past lives in one tornado of emotion. I moved my hand over his smooth chest and down over his belly, hooking my thumb in his boxers – it was the present and past all in the same instant. I’d never felt so complete.

“I want you,” he whispered.

“You’ve always had me,” I said.

“Then I want you even more.”

May the Force Be With Us

2011-02-08T11:12:00.001-08:00

All I can think about today is the VW commercial where the little boy in the Darth Vader outfit runs around trying to manipulate things with his awesome power. I found many of the Superbowl commercials to be so-so. The VW one, though, is getting universal accolades. (It’s my personal favorite.)

There are those stand-out ads that we will always remember (E*TRADE baby, the Budweiser streaking goat). It’s hard to quantify what makes these work and others not so much. Yet, we instinctively “know it when we see it.”

I think this must be what literary agents are up against: they must wade through the so-so slush until that brilliant piece leaps out. I’m guessing some manuscripts try too hard and just come across as icky: like the Doritos commercial where the guy licks the orange, Dorito dust off a co-worker’s fingers.

Writers (published and unpublished) often want agents to quantity the unquantifiable. They want a secret formula that will make their stories stand out. The problem is that there is no secret formula.

Dear fellow writers…if we’re honest with ourselves, we know when we hit that sweet spot and we know when we’re just trying to be clever. To finally get that agent’s attention, our writing must be creative, stand out above the slush, and be able to evoke a response in our readers.

May the force be with us.

Paying It Forward in the Tweeterverse and Blogosphere

2011-02-02T15:34:00.000-08:00

Recently I sat down to make out my ‘wish list’ of agents to query for “Hannah’s Half,” the YA paranormal novel I finished (and am revising!). I was hopping around Twitter, trying to find a particular agent to follow when I happened upon a writer’s blog.

Shelli (srjohannes) shared a story about an agented writer and blogger who stumbled upon her book synopsis and liked it so much, she referred it to her own agent. Yes, you can guess the rest of the story. Shelli is now represented by the same agent.

Shelli’s now hosting a contest on her web site as a way to ‘pay forward’ the generosity shown to her. She’s agreed to select a pitch that intrigues her and share it with her agent.

It got me thinking of the serendipitous connections I’ve made in my writing life.

Some time ago, I wanted to form a writers’ critique group. I sent out a Facebook notice without noting that the group needed to be local – as in Durango, CO. A former work colleague sent the message to a friend in Maryland who contacted me. We began to exchange emails and war stories. Then, she offered to critique my YA novel. I’d only written women’s fiction to that point and needed a YA author’s insight. And boy has Tracy given me that and more.

My manuscript is SO MUCH BETTER because of her generosity. And the girl keeps on giving! Writers usually have to be their own cheerleaders, especially in the face of rejection. I now have Tracy as a cheerleader whenever I'm down (and I hope I am to her as well). Plus, the girl loves cupcakes. We were meant to be friends.

Has anyone done anything special for YOU that you feel you should pay forward?

On Expanding One's Reading Horizons -- Or, I'll Only Read That If You Make Me

2011-01-31T16:01:00.000-08:00

I am known for horning my way into book clubs...well, the same book club actually. When I moved to Durango, CO, in 2003, I heard my staff talking about their book club. To make things really awkward, I asked if I could join. How do you tell your new boss "no"? Not my finest moment, but the Mountain Sistahs welcomed me with open arms.

Somewhere along the way I decided I was too busy with work to have outside interests. Can you see the warning sign that I didn't? So, I quit.

After a number of years, I wised up, established better work boundaries, stopped saying yes to every request to volunteer, and carved out time for me. Then last summer, I saw a member of the Sistahs getting her hair done at my stylist's shop. Once again, I "invited" myself back into the group. Actually, I asked Jackie to ask the rest of the group if they'd accept me back.. And they did!

Last Wednesday was book-picking time again! I was so excited...until I realized how much interest there was in non-fiction titles. I wanted fiction! Non-fiction always felt like school-work or an obligation. Fiction transported me to other worlds. Fiction was fun!

Some members sensed my panic and assured me it's usually an even mix. I have to admit that some of the non-fiction picks in the past ended up being some of my favorite books (The Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, and From the Land of Green Ghosts by Pascal Khoo Thwe). The book club forces me (gently) to expand my reading horizons and read books I'd not otherwise buy or check out from the library.

My contribution to the reading list was The Sky is Everywhere, a young adult novel by Jandy Nelson. If my group can agree to read young adult, then I sure as heck can read some non-fiction.

Readers...do you gravitate to fiction or non-fiction?

Have you been pleasantly surprised by a book that was outside your typical reading tastes?

To Buy (Or Not to Buy) a Book -- That's a Loaded Question

2011-01-20T14:57:00.001-08:00

I've blogged, tweeted and Facebooked about a great web site called Page99Test.com. Authors (published and not) load page 99 of their book onto the site and readers comment on whether they'd turn the page and if they'd be inclined to buy the book.

I'm excited that page 99 from This Side of Crazy earned a "Page Turner" designation! Seventy-three percent would turn the page (the average in the general fiction genre is 48 percent).

This is all well and good -- except that opinions are subjective. One commenter compared the writing to To Kill a Mockingbird while another called it a bit overdramatic. I still think it's useful for authors to get this type of feedback, so I encourage you to bounce around the site and read a few page 99s. They're anonymous, sorted by genre.

Since the basic premise of the web site is that reading page 99 of a book can convince someone to buy (or not buy) a book, I wonder what compels you to make a book purchase?

Interesting title?
Cover design?
First couple of pages?
Inside flap or back cover description?
Recommendation from a friend?
Book review in newspaper or magazine?
Something else?

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Gleeful Journeys

2011-01-08T05:56:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m in Texas visiting family. My niece, Haley, received the first season of Glee on DVD. Watching the series has become a family activity. Everyone (including my 20-year-old nephew) loves it. Each time we hear the closing music we want more! Anyway, back on topic. What’s on my mind today is the season one finale where the Glee club goes to regionals to compete.

They know they’re underdogs but try to stay confident. Then, their competition shows up one day in the auditorium, does a number and completely destroys the confidence of Glee club members.

Mr. Schuester, the Glee club sponsor, suggests a medley of Journey songs as their regionals routine to remind them that winning isn’t what’s important – it’s the journey, the experiences we have and share along the way. One of the songs was “Don’t Stop Believing.”

I know this applies to my writing life. There’s no end point – a prize – that will make me a real author. I’m an author today. The journey is going to include a lot of ups and downs. Does that mean I can’t be ecstatic that an agent asked to see my full manuscript this week? I’d miss out on so much if I lived in expectation of the day when it won’t be “hard” anymore. It will always be hard.

My new writer friend has an agent (hurray!). She’s completed three manuscripts (triple hurray). Yet, she received three rejections from publishers this week. She’s still a success in my eyes. After a cupcake or two, I know she’s feeling better and that her journey continues. After all, she’s a writer. What can she do but keep writing?

What’s your journey?

Gratitude in Gran's Garden

2010-12-31T08:14:00.000-08:00

I'm staying with my sister, Tessa, in Texas for a while. After my mom passed away in 2003, Tessa began creating an outdoor space she's called Gran's Garden (my niece and nephew called my mom Gran). It's beautifully and magically overgrown with bushes and trees; stone cherubs peek out from beneath the groundcover; a rusty metal archway teems with vines; a flagstone area beckons visitors to sit and meditate.

It's one of the most peaceful and spiritual places I've ever been. I love that I can end the year in such a place. I was standing in the garden yesterday, eyes closed. Dozens of birds were flitting about from limb to limb. All I could hear was the fluttering of their wings.

And I said "Thank you" aloud. To whom? I don't know. Spirit. The Universe. Mom. Doesn't matter. The moment was about gratitute. Not longing, not expectation.

2010 has been an amazing year. Did I get an agent or sell my book? Nope. Doesn't matter.

I finished my first novel. I revised it and revised it again. It's being read by agents. I have to trust the process is out of my control now.

I found a critique partner via a former work colleague. She's 2000 miles away but I feel her support as if she's in the room with me, sharing a cup of coffee. Her insights help me to be a better writer.

I wasn't accepted into the Hedgebrook writers-in-residence program, but out of 800-plus applications, I made it to the 80 finalists. That's a compliment I don't want to lose by being upset with the final outcome.

I have an amazing spouse, amazing family and amazing friends.

I have shelter, food, health, financial security when there is such poverty and want in the world.

My sister tells me I don't need a physical space to feel this way...that I can carry Gran's Garden in my heart. How true.

Do you have a space you go to for reflection?

Yes, Virginia, You CAN Wait for Santa Claus

2010-12-21T08:27:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, waiting for Santa seemed an interminable space where day-to-day life was put on hold. “I can’t wait! I can’t wait!” became my daily (internal) mantra.

I’m not waiting for Santa this year but I’ve put myself in a similar tizzy waiting in other ways.

One agent who has my full manuscript tweeted that she is going to read all submissions and reply to authors by the end of the year.

Three other agents have had my manuscript for weeks/months and I’m still awaiting word on those.

By the end of December, I’ll be notified whether I was accepted for a prestigious writing residency at Hedgebrook on Whidbey Island in 2011.

Living more in the present has been a lifelong struggle. When I put this much effort into waiting, I become a permanent resident of limbo. It’s not a good way to live. My stomach twists, I stress-eat, I obsess about things completely out of my control.

And if/when I don’t get what I’m waiting for, I’ll feel letdown – both because I didn’t get that agent/residency/big break, but also because I can’t get back these days that I’ve wasted not living presently, joyfully and gratefully.

Sounds like I’ve begun my New Year’s resolution list early.

Any resolutions emerging for you yet?

The Gift of Voice

2010-12-10T14:23:00.000-08:00

The best Christmas present I received this year was from a complete stranger: an author who put an excerpt of my book in front of 13 literary agents, editors, published and unpublished authors. (see previous post)

While I received some great input on how to improve the opening of the novel, the most important thing I received was affirmation of my writing voice. When I’d completed the novel last May, I knew I’d nailed Cissy’s voice. She spoke to me more clearly than any other character I’ve created. There was no way I could have resisted that voice. It was the reason I dropped two other novels in progress and jumped into her story.

The reviewers who read a snippet of my book heard Cissy, too, and for that I am incredibly thankful. Here are just a few of the comments. While these make me feel great, I have Cissy to thank for allowing me to tell her story.

“Hello voice! I’m right inside her head.”

“The voice here is fantastic- you've nailed it!"

“While I don't gravitate toward books with darker themes- there are some great ones out there (The Color Purple, The Lovely Bones). It was the voice that captured me in both of those and made me want to read the dark plots. Again, magnificent voice! And that's often the hardest part!”

“I actually really enjoyed this first bit of your story. I was drawn right in to her head. Her voice was great. Very believable. From the log line I got that the story is not actually about the incest (which, yes, is really tough), but rather about the adventure and relationship with her grandmother that brings healing to her life. That is what I found myself eager to read about.”

“As for the excerpt, the voice is fantastic and I have absolutely no problem with it being backstory because it gets right to the point instead of being irritatingly coy. The last paragraph is enough conflict to hook me (if I weren't already hooked by that amazing voice).”

“Totally hooked. Beautiful voice, unusual setup of what might be a cliched problem. This character's got spunk, and I'd be interested to read how she handles the aftereffects of her father's abuse and her own actions to stop it.”

On Selflessness and Rejection

2010-12-02T12:03:00.000-08:00

This is the “speechless” edition of The Writing Life.

1. The Good Speechless
I follow the blogs and tweets of several literary agents and writers. I’m utterly dumbfounded by the generosity of some to help up-and-coming writers. AuthoressAnon, a writer trying to get published herself, actually hosts contests where agents agree to critique other writers’ work. Yeah, that’s right. Everyone’s work but her own. I recently got accepted into one of the contests called the Baker’s Dozen Agent Auction. On December 4, a snippet of my book will be posted with those of 39 other writers. Thirteen agents (and the public) will then give feedback on said snippets. Priceless!

Then, earlier in the week the Knight Literary Agency hosted a similar contest in hopes of finding a new client by Christmas. More than 180 writers sent in three pages of their manuscripts. Deidre Knight and her fellow agents chose 50 writers to send in three chapters. Later, the field will be whittled down until they find an author worth representing. I didn’t make the cut but I’m heartened to see busy publishing professionals adding extra work to their schedules just to offer another opportunity for writers to get a leg in the door.

2. The Bad Speechless
In both these contests (and on Twitter) I read of instances of disgruntled writers acting out, sending negative rebuttals and insults when rejected. Not only is this rude, it’s dumb. So dumb. The publishing industry is small and word spreads fast. Rejection is part of publishing. Move on and improve your work.

Since most of my blog readers are NOT writers, here are my general thoughts on 1 and 2 above.

Everywhere and everyday, people do thoughtful, selfless things. We only have take notice – and hopefully say thank you. Maybe we might try being selfless!
We all tend to take things too personally: not getting asked on a second date, getting a grumpy sales person, having our food order come out incorrect. The list goes on and on. Let’s take some advice from the Four Agreements: don’t take things personally, be impeccable with your word, don’t make assumptions, and always do your best. The world is a happier place for all of us when we take this advice.

Giving Thanks for Blessings: Big and Offbeat

2010-11-20T11:34:00.000-08:00

Welcome to a special Thanksgiving edition of A Writing Life. I noticed that since moving to Durango I’m much more aware of the blessings in my life. For one, I look at the valley and mountains EVERY DAY and am friggin’ elated that we moved here in 2003. Two, Durango is a very outdoorsy town so I’m more aware of my health – and am thankful my legs and lungs are able to move me about this gorgeous, awe-inspiring world.

These are BIG things I’m thankful for – but there are so many things I forget to give thanks for – but I will now.

I am expert at wrapping gifts and making bows.
I can iron men’s shirts so that they look they came from the drycleaners.
I never get insomnia.

At this risk of sounding like your mother at the Thanksgiving table, urging you to name one thing you’re thankful for… Share something weird or offbeat you’re thankful for that you sometimes forget about.

Are you a great dancer?
Do you tell jokes well?
Type 100 words or more a minute?
Do you know how to tie sailors' knots?

Have a great week and remember to wear those elastic pants on Thursday.

Take Anything, but Not My Blankie!

2010-11-17T09:11:00.000-08:00

My niece had a cuddly toy bear she named Chubby. It was one of those soft toys made out of terry cloth. After years of loving, Chubby was worse for the wear. My sister, an excellent seamstress, fashioned a new body out of a cotton, waffle-weave baby blanket. When that “body” wore out, she sewed still another body and then another body until the baby blanket was no more.

Today, my niece is 18 and away at college, but Chubby is still stationed on her childhood bed back at home. There’s no other way to put this: Chubby is disgusting. He’s dirty, his stuffing is falling out, there’s very little left of him. But my niece will not part with him.

What is it about humans that makes us cling to things that are comforting even when it *might* be time to give them up? An old sweatshirt from college, a chipped coffee mug, our VHS tapes?

We do this with our actions and emotions as well. For those of you familiar with astrology, you might remember that the Moon’s South Node in your chart represents habit patterns from childhood or from past lives; those experiences and qualities that come naturally to us, that are over-developed, and that we tend to fall back on. The North Node represents the kinds of experiences that we must work to develop in order to work with our karma, and to grow spiritually. If we over-emphasize and fall back on the qualities of our South Node, at the expense of developing our North Node, we may have a difficult time feeling personally successful.

I have quite a few “safety blankets” that I cling to as desperately as my niece clings to Chubby. Lately however, I find myself gravitating more and more toward my North Node, the life I truly want to lead – even if the transition is scary and unknown.

Thoughts? What’s your North Node calling you to be?

Living Your Life Awake

2010-11-02T15:48:00.000-07:00

Before moving to Durango, I was a working zombie. Each day melded into the next; routine pushed me along like an airport’s moving sidewalk. Every decision felt as if it had been made a thousand times before: wake, feed cat, exercise, shower, dress, eat, pack lunch, commute, work, commute, let cat outside, eat, watch TV, sleep, repeat. Memories of my childhood and youth in Granger, TX, and of my adult life in Houston, TX, and then Silver Spring, MD, remain muted. There’s no vibrancy or crispness to the details. That’s because I was asleep for all those years.

Living *awake* is hard work but worth it. Staying present means appreciating the subtleties that make each day meaningful.

I spent the last week in Texas with family. I made a conscious effort to soak in my environment, to really be in the moment. Some things I recall:

The pungent scent of burning incense at my uncle’s funeral, a powerful reminder of the daily masses I attended as a child.
A rainbow of plain tee shirts (71 of them) hung neatly in my brother’s closet.
The glorious first bite of the homemade Czech kolaches that my sister and I baked – for the first time – and our squeals of delight and high-fives that we’d succeeded.
The downy-soft hug of an elderly aunt I hadn’t seen in years.
The strange and uncomfortable nostalgia driving the pot-holed streets of my small hometown – recognizing some houses and landmarks, and others not at all.

Perhaps all the rich details I noticed will find their way into a novel or short story. At least these memories are crystal clear because of choice; because I remained awake rather than shutting down.

Are you present in your world? Do you have to work at it?

Time Has Come Today

2010-10-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

Transitions have been on my mind lately. The onset of fall color and cooler temps is one reason. Another is that a dear uncle, almost 90, is ready to die but his body hangs on. Still another reason is that I celebrate my 45th birthday later this week.

These transitions remind me that much is out of our control including aging and death. This realization doesn’t make me sad. I’m comforted by the things I can control. Such as:

How I use (or waste) my talents while on this earth.
How I appreciate (or ignore) the universe’s plan for me.
How I nurture (or harm) my body and spirit.
How I treat (or mistreat) others.

My new career path (writing fiction) is a daily lesson in letting go of control. I cannot force an agent to read my manuscript more quickly or to offer representation. I cannot will a publisher to be excited enough to make an offer. I cannot guarantee that readers will buy my book.

I *can* carve out time to write and make it a priority. I can do my best every day, learn what I can, improve my craft, and enjoy the process instead of lapsing into “wait until” thinking.

What things have you tried to control in the past and have you found ways to release that control?

Here's a song to get you thinking: Time Has Come Today by The Chambers Brothers and covered by the Ramones.

Oh Yeah, That Bird-in-Hand Thing

2010-10-11T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yikes. There goes my goal of writing a blog post weekly. I'm going to blame my apathy on my sugar detox which has left me cranky, tired and demotivated. (Oh, my day job does that to me, too. Hmmm... is there a detox for that?)

I'm feeling sort of poopy about writing right now. (I know, same old story!) At least there are waves of productivity to counteract the blue periods of self-doubt.

A vice president at a major publishing house gave me phenomenal feedback on my writing during the Taos Writers' Conference this past July. She asked what else I was working on and I described "23 Conversations before My Funeral," a manuscript I've started and stopped a hundred times. She LOVED the idea and offered to review the first 100 pages when I got that far. She gave me her personal email address. Bazinga!

So, what did I do? I jumped into writing on my young adult novel "Hannah's Half" and didn't touch the manuscript that interested her.

My husband (Logical Science Man) reminded me recently that the VP is actually a bird in the hand. He wondered why I wasn't jumping all over "23 Conversations." I don't know why. I'm not "feeling" it? It's a tough story with tough themes? Crap. I don't have the answer. But I know he's right. And so, I started back at it again this weekend.

Have you ever put off something you knew was in your best interest because the next steps were hard or ambiguous? How did you re-motivate yourself to do what you knew was best for your personal life or career?

ADDENDUM: Holy sychronicities! I did a search for the bird photo for this post and downloaded the one above. Then, I just saw the page it came from: an article on procrastination! Check out this quote:

Lack of confidence, sometimes alternating with unrealistic dreams of heroic success, often leads to procrastination, and many studies suggest that procrastinators are self-handicappers: rather than risk failure, they prefer to create conditions that make success impossible, a reflex that of course creates a vicious cycle.

Exposing Your Guts and Trusting You Won't Get Kicked There

2010-09-29T10:57:00.000-07:00

I recently reconnected with a woman (Allison) I used to know back when we were both nonprofit executive directors. I had no idea she’d written one book and had great ideas for two others. I asked if she wanted to be part of a writers’ group and she hesitated at first.

Seeking support can be scary because we’re putting ourselves out there, in the big wide world where criticisms can feel harsh even when given with the utmost care and respect. She’s not alone in her hesitancy. One of the women in my writers’ critique group is going through a crisis of confidence – and almost wanted to give up writing. And she’s written three books!

Writers (and other creatives) can lead isolated existences. We can fall into troughs of self-doubt and struggle to reach those creative heights that used to bring us such joy.

Allison finally gave in and is ready for a writers’ group and to “expose her guts.” She wrote: The joy of writing is one thing; the act of being an author is another.

How right she is! Being an author is very different than writing. It entails seeking constructive criticism, refining our craft, growing as writers, understanding the publishing industry, slogging through writing even when we feel like never writing again.

The great thing is we don’t have to do it alone. All it takes is trusting that the women in your circle have the same fears and dreams you have -- and that they won't kick you in your exposed gut.

Have you found the support of others important in your life?

Can Dreaming Be Harmful to Your Mental Health?

2010-09-22T12:10:00.001-07:00

A recent and controversial blog post by literary agent Nathan Bransford cautions writers about letting their big dreams turn into expectations that are impossible to reach. He wrote: After dreams are eroded by reality, there’s a hollow place where those dreams used to reside. It doesn't feel worth it anymore, even if you've achieved modest success that you should be extremely proud of, and would have made you happy if your expectations were in check.

While most comments supported his theory, many people disagreed. One woman posted:
Those dreams that get you through should be treated as little prayers, hopes for the future. Write with the intent that you will be famous or on Oprah’s couch. That intent acts as a goal you aspire to reach. I'm a big believer in "shoot for the stars, if you hit the moon it's still way farther than the couch in a suburb surrounded by Stepford wives."

I like to dream big. Do I dream of writing a book that Oprah puts on her favorites’ list? No. But I do write out my dreams and post them on my “intentions” bulletin board. I ask the Universe to support my dreams and aspirations. And I believe we are all worthy of success.

I do understand that Bransford is describing a point where dreams morph into unrealistic expectation. And yes, that can be harmful. But I say let’s err on the side of dreaming. It’s a lot more healthy than setting your sights lower than necessary.

I'll leave you with three quotes on expectation to ponder. What are your thoughts about dreaming big or setting high expectations for yourself?

Expectation is the root of all heartache. -- Shakespeare
High achievement always takes place in the framework of high expectation. --Charles Kettering
We must rediscover the distinction between hope and expectation. --Ivan Illich

Why Not YA?

2010-09-14T12:36:00.001-07:00

The YA (young adult) book market is thriving. In fact, some literary agents are only accepting YA manuscripts. The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins and the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer are two publishing phenomena that drive the rush to find YA authors and their potential blockbusters.

Teens and young adults are savvy buyers and want literature written for them about the issues important to them. This means that authors must know how to talk (write) and behave like teenagers. It also entails skillfully addressing once-taboo subjects like sex, drugs and homosexuality because those are part of the teenage experience.

When I was a teenager (a hundred years ago), I read what was assigned for English class (books like Lord of the Flies and 1984) but not much else.

What books did you read as a teenager and were they written specifically for a younger market?
As an adult, do you read young adult novels? Why?

Do You Get Mileage Points for Flying by the Seat of Your Pants?

2010-09-06T07:26:00.000-07:00

August seemed to go out like a deflated balloon. I haven’t had a lot of energy the past week for writing, or much else for that matter. I’m glad the summer is over – too much travel away from my beloved Durango. I’m hoping the fall brings with it some renewed energy and a chance to nest during my favorite season of the year in Colorado.

Regarding the writing life, the second book is coming along although not as quickly as I had hoped. To keep me on track during the writing of the first book, I used a storyboard (see photo) to mark progress and to outline. I started a similar storyboard for the second novel and am doing much more outlining of plot on this book.

My question to you is whether you consider yourself a planner (outliner, list-maker) or more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type person. Or are you a little of both depending on whether it’s your personal or work life? I definitely fall into the category of planner/list-maker but hope to be more of the 'fly-by' type with some practice.

Off to make my list of favorite fall activities. Notice I didn’t write ‘chores.’

The Death of Subtlety in Books and Film

2010-08-27T09:37:00.000-07:00

I’m a big fan of old black and white movies, particularly those starring Kathryn Hepburn. The other night I stayed up watching “Without Love,” a comedy with Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. I knew that they’d end up together in the end, but I wanted to SEE it! At 11:30 p.m., I started to regret staying up so late… then, at last, witty, rapid-fire dialogue about how they’d fallen for each other. The finale: they hug. Hug? Where’s the passionate kiss? Well, there’s the subtlety in these old films. “Philadelphia Story” with Hepburn and Cary Grant is the same way. There’s innuendo and some titillation but it’s up to the viewers to use their imaginations rather than have the directors include explicit love scenes.

As a writer, I faced a similar dilemma recently. My current protagonist, an 18-year-old psychic/medium starts seeing the ghost of a teen boy who’d been killed in a tragic car accident. She learns that she and this guy have shared numerous lifetimes together – including lives as adults who’ve had sexual relationships. While they don’t remember exact details of those lives, they know they’ve ‘done the deed,’ so to speak. They consider trying to have a sexual relationship as human and ghost. I deliberately wrote these scenes without being in-your-face explicit.

People knock Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight trilogy for its archaic, prudish treatment of the two main protagonists who wait to have sex. In the last movie, “Eclipse,” there’s a scene in Edward’s bedroom where they consider having sex. It’s sexier than many of the films I’ve seen with outright coitus and full nudity. “Cold Mountain” is another great example of showing an intensely passionate relationship between two people without looking between the sheets.

I believe we’ve lost subtlety in describing passion, suspense and horror. Books and films beat us over the head until we no longer feel the building emotion.

Do you agree or disagree? Would love to hear your thoughts.

Six Words -- The Sum of Me

2010-08-23T09:56:00.000-07:00

I’m borrowing an idea from one of my favorite agent blogs. On August 22, Rachelle Gardner asked her readers to submit memoirs of six words. Yes, that’s correct. Six words. She’s received a whopping 212 responses and they keep coming in.

At first glance you’d think the assignment was next to impossible. We’re known for using lots of words to describe who we are, what we feel, where we've been, where we're going. The genius of this exercise is in its simplicity. Once you strip away all the garbage (i.e., memories, hurts, fears, regrets), you’re faced with the core essence of who you are. You may come up with a few different six-word combinations – and that’s okay. Keep going back to the one that resonates.

Please post your six-word memoir here. It’s a great exercise to get you thinking about what’s important and true in your life. Plus I'd love to get to know you in this meaningful way.

Here’s mine: Workaholic saved by mountains and writing.

If you're curious, check out Rachelle's blog and the many memoirs posted there.

When Comfortable Doesn't Necessarily Mean Happy

2010-08-15T08:11:00.000-07:00

On a recent visit to Texas, I bought an inspirational magnet at my sister’s gift shop. It reads: Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I intended to give the magnet as a gift but kept if for myself instead.

My friend, Alison, posted the same quote today on Facebook, asking friends to comment on what the statement means for them. Which got me thinking…

Despite my well-laid plans for a comfortable life (which I described as no surprises, no ups, no downs), I have consistently been faced with a flashing sign warning me: Scary stuff ahead! Leave comfort zone at your own risk! And yet, I kept going despite the fear and discomfort.

I grew up in a town of 1,200 people yet picked a university of 48,000 to attend.

My husband and I gave up a house, our cars and our careers and moved to Geneva, Switzerland, to work for the UN.

A second time, we gave up a house and careers (and Washington, DC salaries) to move to Durango, CO, where we now feel richer than we have at any point in our lives. And it has nothing to do with money.

In July 2009, I asked my employer if I could work part time so I could devote time to writing fiction and developing a career as a novelist. And today, I’m working on novels number two and three, and pitching finished novel number one to literary agents.

So, dear friends, what comfort zone have YOU left and was it worth it?

And the Little Writer Went Tweet, Tweet, Tweet

2010-08-12T08:20:00.000-07:00

And today, a blog edition on all things social media.

CellStories
My short story, Coffee with Satan, was the featured piece on CellStories today. This nifty service brings a different short story to your mobile device daily. I love the idea of writing getting out there in new and interesting ways. Cracking into the literary magazine market can be tough and demoralizing. Kudos to Paul Davis at >isgreaterthan.net for this ingenious way to share great writing.

WriteOnCon
This week, I attended an online writers’ conference that was COMPLETELY FREE. Sessions have been live chats, guest blog posts, and vblogs. Although the conference is targeted to the young adult/children’s book market, the concept is what’s truly brilliant. Literary agents and authors volunteered their time to give great advice to writers in a solely online environment. From 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. Eastern Time, WriteOnCon has been chocked full of good information. You don’t have to watch or read live because everything is archived. In fact, that’s how I’ve attended – during lunch and after hours. If you have an interest in writing for the YA or children’s market – or just want general advice on the publishing industry, check it out.

And the Dinosaur Goes the Way of...the Dinosaurs

I think I’ve bored myself (and most of you) by my longstanding claims of being a social media dinosaur. The fact that I use Facebook, attend online conferences, read agent blogs faithfully, and now follow multiple agents and authors on Twitter proves me to be a hypocrite. I use social media for my writing career and I’m fascinated by how much fantastic information I’ve been able to glean from these platforms.

In what ways have you used social media or are you still resisting the leap into that realm?

Sometimes Even Iced Tea Won't Cut It

2010-08-05T18:18:00.000-07:00

In true broken-record fashion, I found myself lacking motivation to write this week. Instead, I looked up quotes about motivation on the Internet. Not quite what I needed to actually motivate myself to SIT AT THE DAMN COMPUTER AND WRITE.

Next, I decided to buy myself a $1 iced tea from McDonald’s as a treat when I didn't have a reason to reward myself.

I *almost* sat down to watch the special features on the “New Moon” DVD for the hundredth time (go Team Edward) when I finally guilted myself into opening my laptop. For a couple of hours, I revised a short story from the Taos Writers’ conference (incorporating workshop participants’ critiques). Then, I rewrote a chapter on my second (actually first) novel, “23 Conversations before a Funeral.”

Tomorrow is Friday, which means WRITING DAY. Just the little bit of writing and revising I did today jumpstarted me. I don’t think I’ll even need my iced tea fix but I’m not making any rash judgments.

What’s your favorite way to procrastinate?

A Butcher, A Baker, A Candlestick Maker?

2010-07-26T06:37:00.000-07:00

I was recently in Rockville, MD, for some face-time with my employers and co-workers. All satellite employees come in for a week of team-building, meetings and the company picnic. Unable to take my lack of enthusiasm any longer, my dear friend, Arlene, told me to buck up and I tried my best.

One of the team-building exercises entailed sitting with a co-worker for 10 minutes and talking about our lives outside of work. (We switched off three times.) I faced a long-standing dilemma: do I reveal I’m a writer and just finished a book, or do I pick something else out of my life to share? I went the authentic route. The absolute biggest thing in my life now is my writing and I said so. My co-workers were genuinely interested and supportive.

I’ve had a chip on my shoulder about revealing this part of my life because I haven’t published and I have no idea if/when that will happen. But I’m a writer NOW, each and every day. It’s what I do and who I am.

The exercise also opened my mind to who my co-workers are beyond their roles at Goodwill. An expert quilter, a weekend sailor, a baker. It’s taken me 20 years to recognize that our work doesn’t define us completely.

How do you define yourself? Has it been a struggle to share your deepest passions with others?

Taos Day 5&6: Wine and Espresso Chocolate to End the Week

2010-07-16T19:02:00.000-07:00

What an intense week. Loved the discourse. Loved the writing exercises. While I feel the Taos Summer Writers' Conference was a good investment of my time and money, I'm feeling a little deflated tonight. In class today, it became really apparent what a division there is between writers of 'literary fiction' and commercial or mainstream fiction. I felt the instructor and some of the group today were acting a little elitist, as if popular, best-selling books are drivel.

I'm caught between worlds -- my writing style isn't exactly literary and it's not genre (like crime, mystery or romance). I guess I will just be true to my voice and the stories that demand to be told. Despite how exhausted I am, I am excited to jump back into the novel "23 Conversations Before a Funeral," to revise the short story that was workshopped here and keep doing writing exercises (which forces me to write without self-editing).

Now that I'm through with critiquing papers and completing writing assignments for class, I can truly enjoy a glass or two of wine and some espresso chocolate. Back to the real world tomorrow. Next week in DC-metro area for work when I just really want my own bed!

Background Checks: But I Walked Those Half Marathons!

2010-07-15T06:26:00.000-07:00

I read an interesting item on publishers doing background checks on authors to ensure they’re not taking a chance on some crazy whack. When I searched my name on Google I had some expected results and some that surprised me.

EXPECTED

Links associated with my work as writer/editor at Goodwill Industries International, the
American Nurses Association, or the UN/World Health Organization.
Links about me being the executive director at the Women’s Resource Center.
My blog, The Writing Life.
Me being a party in a lawsuit to expand rights of independent political candidates to gain ballot access.

UNEXPECTED

Random Tweet that I was going out to get an iced tea.
That I was crowned Miss SPJST in 1982. Long story.
My results in three half marathons. Which are pathetic and don’t explain that I WALKED.
My review of a cake recipe (4 forks) on epicurious.com

The Twitter thing has me worried, especially since it came up pretty high in the search results. It just seems dumb. Overall, I’m OK with a publisher reading everything that was posted about me (at least in the first 22 pages of results). Can you say the same thing? If you’re under 20, are you concerned that your random Tweets will reflect who you are to the online world?

Taos Day 4: Are you a Simon or an Ellen?

2010-07-14T16:26:00.000-07:00

Today's assignment was to write a 26-sentence story, each sentence beginning with a different letter of the alphabet (in order), one sentence had to be one word, one sentence had to be 1oo words, and you could substitute a letter for x or z. Lots of fun. So much fun I convinced my writer nephew to do the same. Can't wait to share stories.

Class today, however, was a little uncomfortable. The writer who probably needed the most tender treatment seemed to get it from all sides. Several writers just seemed too brusque, too flip, too off-handed in their criticisms. But the scenario presents an interesting question. Do you withhold criticism because you think the writer can't handle it emotionally? Isn't that a disservice? I guess it's all in the delivery. Do you take a Simon Cowell or an Ellen Degeneres approach? I erred on the side of Ellen today.

Have you ever had to give tough feedback to someone? What was your approach?

Taos Day 3: Affirmation of My Path

2010-07-14T05:59:00.000-07:00

And it was a very good day...
Had a short story workshopped by my 10 classmates and our instructor, author Pam Houston. Such great feedback -- they got the subtleties I intended, the emotion beneath the surface. What more could a writer ask for.

Well, now that you mention it. How about a fantastic consultation with a VP at William Morrow Publishers?! Yes, in the same day! She began her critique with: "I have no doubt that you'll be published." She suggested that "This Side of Crazy" may not be the book I publish first, meaning it might be a tougher sell because of subject matter and a 16-year-old narrator. She LOVED the idea of the other book I've worked on, "23 Conversations before My Funeral." Both my friend Katrina and sister Tessa said more than a year ago they thought that was the book to go with -- well, it took me a circuitous path to get back to it but I will.

Heard and noted at the conference:

"I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it." -- Pablo Picasso
"In 1910, we stopped reading for plot and starting reading for characters." --author Pam Houston

I don't necessarily agree with the second quote. What are your thoughts? Is it a difference between literary and mainstream fiction?

Taos Day 2: Locking the Analytical Bitch in the Closet

2010-07-12T15:33:00.001-07:00

Two big takeaways from our first morning with author Pam Houston:

First, she talked about her process. She says she’s the opposite of an outliner. In the beginning, when she’s getting the raw stuff on paper, the writing is associative, not logical. Pam says this is the time to shut up the analytical bitch who just wants to organize a ‘story’ rather than capture the ‘glimmer’ moments. These moments are potent, resonating ticklers that may become part of something larger. For her, the longer she stays in the ‘not knowing,’ the better. Don’t over-determine, don’t over-direct. So many of us do just that with our writing. We want to know the beginning sentence or who does what to whom and how to get there. Here are three questions she never allows herself to ask when writing:

What does it mean?
Where is it going?
How does it end?

I didn’t outline my novel. Several sections wrote themselves as I witnessed twists in the storyline I couldn't have dreamt up in the beginning. Some authors like my favorite author, John Irving, outline. Irving says he always knows the last sentence in the book first. Loved the group’s discussion on process. We’re all so different.

Second, Pam admits to failures of confidence where she goes days, weeks or months without writing. What? She’s an established, successful author. Most of us who are not figure that the pros have figured out the confidence issue; that their ‘process’ involves some way to keep writing the good stuff, the publishable stuff.

Well, she has figured it out. Start writing the unedited glimmer moments, the stuff that sticks out and begs to be written down. When the analytical bitch jumps in to edit, move onto the next glimmer moment. Keep going. One day it you will have the raw material for that story or novel or essay and can begin moving around those bits and pieces and creating again.

Now, I have a writing assignment and manuscripts to read for our critique tomorrow. Good day from Taos.

Taos Day 1: Aromatic Rain, 'White Heat' Writing and the Cultural Value of Poetry

2010-07-11T20:36:00.000-07:00

I'm at the Taos Summer Writers' Conference until Saturday. The four-hour drive to Taos not so bad considering the incredible scenery. At one point, I could smell a rainstorm for a mile before drops starting hitting the car.

At the welcome dinner we were seated with the writers who will be in the same workshops for the week. My workshop is advanced short fiction led by Pam Houston, who also ate with us at our table. Nice ice breaker before our class begins tomorrow morning.

The keynote reading was by Cristina Garcia, author of Dreaming in Cuban, The Aguero Sisters, Monkey Hunting and The Lady Matador's Hotel. Such rich, vivid imagery in her complex tales that take place around the world but all have a Cuban thread. I asked what type of research she conducts for books set in other countries like China, Iran and Mexico. I received the most unexpected and intriguing answer: she reads poetry from those countries (from the specific time period) because she says the poets capture the culture and essence of the people so much better than history books.

When someone asked about her process, she said that only a small fraction of the time is the writing the "white heat" periods where the passage writes itself, almost perfect in form. The rest of the time is adding detail and layers; the document alive and changing.

I'm fortunate that I've had those "white heat" periods. Garcia says the trick is capturing the same beauty and perfection of those passages in the rest of the book.

More from Taos tomorrow.

Just a Boring Saturday Killing Dogs

2010-07-10T20:16:00.000-07:00

Last September I blogged about a book called "What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers." One exercise asked the writer to kill a dog. The thought being if an actor can portray a serial killer with realism, writers must be able to write about things they have never done and may never do -- rob a bank, rule a country, kill a dog.

My nephew, Hunter, also a writer, is living with us this summer. He and I kind of moped around most of the day, not really wanting to do anything but not wanting to sit around either. We both knew we should be reading or writing but hey, sometimes it's hard to be motivated on a lazy Saturday.

When he suggested we try an exercise from the "What If?" book, I thought it'd be fun to do a timed writing prompt with him. He chose the 'kill the dog' exercise. The pressure of a 30-minute exercise really jumpstarted my creativity and motivation to write. I was pleasantly surprised by the resulting short story. (I killed two pitt bulls with rat poison pressed into a raw rump roast. Hunter killed a jack russell terrier by wrapping its legs in electrical tape and then backing up over it with a car. You really need to read the full stories.)

I'm looking forward to more writing exercises this week at the Taos Writers' Conference.

On Reading, Writing and Smiling at Hamsters

2010-07-08T12:24:00.000-07:00

Miscellanea today because I'm busy and scattered and not feeling any word love.

TAOS, HERE I COME
I’m trying to wrap up some urgent work stuff before I head to the Taos Summer Writers’ Conference next week. My instructor assigned some reading – short stories in an anthology edited by author Joyce Carol Oates. I enjoyed all of assigned stories. One, in particular, is probably one of the best short stories I’ve ever read. Ever. Incarnations of Burned Children by David Foster Wallace drew me in and twisted my insides out. If you read it, let me know your reaction.

BEING ‘PRE-PUBLISHED’
I recently read a blog by a literary agent encouraging would-be writers to savor the time prior to becoming published authors. He included this story about a writer he knows: Before publication, when she sat down to write, she could do whatever she wanted. There were no expectations about what she’d write, no deadlines to write to, and no promotional commitments to take her away from her creative time. She felt that she lost a little something when she became a published writer, and she wished that other authors would stop and enjoy the process.

The blog got both positive and negative comments. The jury’s still out for me. I do enjoy this time because yes, I feel creativity is within my control. I can tell the story I want to tell. Once published, will that be the case? Or will I worry more about what would sell?

I wonder how others feel about major life events and whether they can savor the time before those events: the years we spend in high school or college, the weeks leading up to a wedding, the days spent training for a marathon. Thoughts?

SOMETHING TO SMILE ABOUT
This has nothing to do with writing but I have to tell the world how freakin’ obsessed I am with the hamsters in the Kia SOUL commercial. I watch the YouTube video at least once a day. Hey, it makes me smile. Shouldn’t we smile at least once daily?

When Safety Becomes Dangerous

2010-07-01T09:06:00.000-07:00

My friend Wendi e-mailed me a list of 50 quotes associated with risk taking that she found on BusinessWeek.com. I’ve culled the list to the six that resonate.

“Security is mostly a superstition. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” —Helen Keller

“If things seem under control, you are just not going fast enough.” —Mario Andretti

“Don’t be afraid to take a big step. You can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps.” —David Lloyd George

“Do one thing every day that scares you.” —Eleanor Roosevelt

“The dangers of life are infinite, and among them is safety.” —Goethe

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” —Anais Nin

Of course, risk is one of those words that knots my stomach and closes down my mind instantly. Growing up in chaos created an almost obsessive desire for control and safety in my adult life. So, what do I do? I pursue a risky profession that holds no guarantees and requires big leaps of faith — almost daily. Ha! The universe chuckles at the irony.

Goethe probably put it best in that ‘safety’ is one of life’s dangers. Pursuit of it can close down our spirits to the breathtaking heights we can reach without fear. Safety makes the world very small. It’s a death shroud, shielding us from the wonders of life and living.

There is so much joy in creativity when we put aside the idea that it can be controlled. Has fear of risk kept you from a dream? What help do you need to blossom?

When Preciousness Gets in Your Way

2010-06-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest things an author does is let go of something personal – like a title of a book. For many, many months, I’ve stuck to one working title: God Doesn’t Like Sweet Cornbread (and Other Things She Told Me).

The title comes from my favorite chapter in the book. I became so attached to the title, the words became precious and sacrosanct. I think I became attached to its differentness, its cleverness. God and cornbread? God’s a She?

When I thought of changing the title before, I became defensive and sought out opinions that mirrored mine. This doesn’t have anything to do with God being part of the title (although an earlier fear was that someone would think this was a religious book).

The issue is capturing the public’s attention and reflecting the book as a whole, not just one chapter. I perused the New York Times Bestseller Lists for the past several years. The vast majority of titles are two, three or four words.
The Overton Window
The Help
Low-Country Summer
Naamah’s Curse
Fever Dream
The Mermaid Chair
Haunted
Vanishing Acts

This isn’t about wanting a bestseller (but what author doesn’t). This is about having a fighting chance to at least pitch the book and Cissy’s story without having an agent shut down because of the title.

What book titles have attracted you in the past? Do you agree about the brevity in today’s titles?

When Roadrunner's Anvil Hit Mandy's Noggin

2010-06-28T17:00:00.000-07:00

I hate traveling.
I hate hotel rooms.
I hate conferences.
I hate conference food (i.e., rubber banquet chicken, too much sugar and caffeine).

So, there. You’re prepared for the state of mind I’m in while writing this blog entry.

When traveling, I usually bring a magazine for the flight. Something light since my laptop already weighs a ton. I decided to bring a flat, little book titled The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. The quote on the cover from Esquire: “A vital gem. A kick in the ass.”

I’m still at the 'kick in the ass' part. Wow, holy crap and all that. I read a lot of books about developing your craft as a writer, overcoming self-doubt, following your dreams. This little book trumps them all. It’s an adrenaline shot to your heart and the Roadrunner’s anvil dropped on your noggin.

RESISTANCE will do anything to keep you from doing your work. It will perjure, fabricate, falsify; seduce, bully cajole. By definition, it is self-sabotage.
COMBATTING RESISTANCE (Turning Pro): The amateur believes he must first overcome his fear to do his work. The pro knows that fear can never be overcome.

I am going to buy this book for everyone I know that has erected obstacles to their own success. More than that, I’m going to keep reading this book…over and over and over until I start believing I wrote those words myself.

Now, I need to leave for another rubber chicken banquet. Flight back to Durango tomorrow.

Miscellaneous, Caffeine-Induced Thoughts

2010-06-25T06:47:00.000-07:00

No one theme for this morning's blog. Just felt like writing. Imagine that!

Could it be that I eat chocolate-covered espresso beans with my DECAF coffee?

1. FINALLY decided to open a Twitter account to follow agents, publishers and other stakeholders in the publishing industry (in addition to The Onion and People magazine, of course). When agents tweet about reading queries or partial manuscripts (sometimes at coffee shops and sometimes by the pool!), it kind of makes my head hurt wondering when they'll get to mine. Their personal tweets, though, make them seem so much more human (and so much less scary). I still feel like an icky voyeur but I'll get over that soon. ;0

2. With inspiration from Joanie T., my therapist, I've developed a system for surviving agent rejection! On small bits of paper, I've written ways to treat myself. These bits go in a basket and will be drawn randomly as I receive rejections. An espresso, a walk around the block, a Cowtail from Fuzzywigs Candy Factory, a candy apple from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, a phone call to a friend in the middle of a workday. YOUR ASSIGNMENT: Help me come up with other ways to treat myself that won't break the bank! I'm expecting quite a few rejections.

3. Am gearing up for the Taos Summer Writers' Conference in mid July. I'm taking a weeklong advanced fiction workshop led by author Pam Houston. I'm terrified to workshop my writing but I got so much out of last year's Ghost Ranch writers' retreat that I am looking forward to the 'growth' I will experience. If you get a chance, read Houston's "Cowboys Are My Weakness." An amazing collection of short stories. Perfect summer reading. In fact, my second novel is turning out to be a collection of linked short stories. Serendipity!

4. Wow. Caffeine is an amazing thing after you've been off it for a while. Where can I find a marathon to run?? Well, a hike on the Colorado trail will have to do. Oh my Goddess, I love living in Colorado.

Happy weekend to everyone, and don't forget to add to my "Ways to Treat Mandy" basket!

Offering Your Egg to the World

2010-06-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

Today, I ran across an interesting blog post from author Mary DeMuth. This paragraph has stayed with me:
It's time we step out of the shadows of fear as writers. It's time we view our art not only as art, but as a risky gift. Something that costs us. Something that worries us at night, makes us tremble in the day. Breaking the mold and innovating involves that kind of sacrifice. The question is, are you willing?

While writing Cissy’s story, not once did I think the story shouldn’t be told. Yet, after finishing it, I wondered if the themes were too ‘hard’ for a mainstream novel. I told myself that’s why I was reticent about sharing the draft of the book. In fact, I was scared out of my mind about offering up a part of myself and risking that it wouldn’t be received well.

A women’s group I belonged to used to refer to this as offering an egg. As we heal and grow stronger, we hold out our hands, gently offering a fragile part of ourselves. We do so tentatively at first, then more boldly. We constantly assess who we trust enough to hold our egg, to treat it with respect and to honor what the egg means to us.

Yes, Mary, I do worry at night and I do tremble in the day. Yet, I’ve never been so sure that the time is right to risk whatever awaits me as I offer up Cissy’s story to the world. So far, the people I’ve trusted to read my draft have given me the greatest gift of all: their certainty that the book will find a home one day.

Have you offered your egg to the world? Was it worth the risk you took?

Humanity Is Not Always Pretty But It Binds Us

2010-06-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

I read an interview in the Boston Globe with Michael Zadoorian, author of The Leisure Seeker. He said that 16 agents turned down the book, mainly because it was the story of a couple in their 80s, one dying of cancer and one who has Alzheimer’s. The couple yearns for one last adventure and takes off in their ’78 Leisure Seeker RV along Route 66 to Disneyland against the wishes of their grown children and doctors.

One agent wanted him to make the couple younger. After all, aging and death are not sexy. As a society, we do everything in our power to resist both. Yet, the agents who passed on the book failed to recognize that there can be beauty and tenderness and humanity in these stories that are just as important (more important!) than sparkling vampires and crime-fighting forensic medical examiners.

The good news for Michael is that an agent “got it” and signed him right away. A publisher snapped up the book a week and a half later.

I have to believe there will be an agent that gets Cissy’s story. The one agent who critiqued my first chapter for a webinar loved my writing and the story premise but wondered how much the book would refer to the heinous act (incest) and how much the story would stay in the present.

The book is not about incest and Cissy is not a victim. My hope is that the reader (well, first an agent) will see that she is a thoughtful, quirky, funny and passionate protagonist trying to figure it out just as we all are. Her relationship to her world is a little off center but the lessons she learns are ones we all faced at one time or another.

The good news for me is that Michael’s agent presented at a writers’ retreat I attended last year. I queried her last week and she emailed to request the first 20 pages of my manuscript, which I mailed her today.

Even if nothing comes of this, I feel lucky to have an opportunity to share Cissy’s story beyond a one-page query letter. It only takes one person to get it. It may be sooner or it may be later. But I know someone will.

On Being Sufficiently Enthusiastic

2010-06-20T08:11:00.000-07:00

I was intrigued by your query but not sufficiently enthusiastic to ask for more.

This is the latest rejection to my book. I’d be more upset except that I love the phrase ‘not sufficiently enthusiastic’ and can add it to my repertoire of comebacks.

Andy: Would you like to see a movie?
Mandy: I’m not sufficiently enthusiastic.

In all seriousness, I’ve queried 12 agents and received six rejections. For a while this week, my gmail account (the one set aside only for my writing life) became a sinister boogie man. My heart would race every time I checked the account, fearing another rejection would be lying in wait to shout ‘Boo!’ at me. For five days, the account has been empty, making me think all agents had gone on summer vacation or that my gmail account was broken. (After all, five had responded with form rejections within a day of getting my email query!) This morning’s email has assured me that neither was the case.

I’ve been hopping from blog to blog recently, reading about writers’ adventures and misadventures with agents and publishers. One writer broke it down this way:

158 queries sent out
17 requests for partial manuscripts to review
82 no responses
51 passes
25 requests for the full manuscript

In the end, it took a brief conversation via Twitter for her to attract her agent. Wow. And I’m feeling hurt by six rejections? I’m not really feeling hurt. I’m feeling the enormity of the life I’ve chosen. That life entails querying, sometimes hundreds of times; bravely revising my manuscript; practicing patience; and most importantly, working on the NEXT book.

So, tomorrow, one of my designated writing days, I leave behind Cissy Pickering and her story and start up again with Hannah, an 18-year-old reluctant psychic.

At least this life isn’t boring.

Laughter, Pinot Grigio and a Quick Trip Back to the Happy Place

2010-06-16T10:17:00.000-07:00

On Monday (deflated balloon day), I decided to go out to happy hour with friends. It’s amazing what a little sunshine, Pinot Grigio and laughter can do to wash away the mully-gullies.

However, I think it’s going to take a lot more than Pinot Grigio to ride out the querying process. Novelists can say they’re prepared for rejection – and lots of it – but it’s a different story when the form rejections start pouring in.

I guess it doesn’t help that my naturopath and I are trying to regulate my hormones, or that I’ve been listening to every sad song ever written. If I’m going to be blue, then bring it on in a big way. Those vanilla faux Oreos on sale at City Market aren’t helping things either.

What has helped a teensy bit is a blog I found today called Literary Rejections on Display. (The subtitle is Join the Revolution, Join the Pity Party.) Ahhh, I don’t feel so alone anymore. It’s one thing to know others are going through what I’m going through; it’s another thing altogether to read the rejections others are receiving and to laugh alongside them over the misery we’ve brought upon ourselves.

The blog also features those “good news” stories writers always want to hear about. They keep us going more than Pinot and vanilla sandwich cookies.

Nearly 60 agents turned down Kathryn Stockett's debut novel “The Help” before publisher Amy Einhorn picked it up in 2007. The book has sold more than 800,000 copies and is now being made into a major motion picture. Way to go, Kathryn!

Another thing that’s helped as much as Pinot and sugar is reaching out to my sister, Tessa, who’s been my biggest supporter. This from her in an email today:
Now get back to that "HAPPY PLACE" in your head the way it was the week you completed your book!!!!! Don't make me have to come all the way to Durango to kick your ass. :0 ( meant with much love. )

Headed to the Happy Place now, Tessa. Thanks!

Deflated Balloon Seeks Air and Confidence

2010-06-13T19:05:00.000-07:00

I’ve been blessed to receive amazing feedback from a handful of people reading the book draft.

My sister, Tessa, wrote: I'm so glad Paul's out fishing and the girls are both still sleeping — because I've been sobbing nonstop. I just finished your book. Words can't quite relay all the emotions it stirred in me. You have such a way of writing that I could visualize the characters faces, mannerisms, and even the tones of their voices (if that's possible).

My brother left me a voicemail to say he stayed up all night to finish it — something he hasn’t done with a book in a very long time. He also said it was “fucking amazing.”

So, I soak in these comments and smile deep down from my soul, and then the nasty little judging voice says, “They’re your family. What do you expect them to say?” I reply, “They’d be honest if the book didn’t work.” And the nasty judge, “No, they wouldn’t.”

And after a few rounds with nasty judging voice, I resemble a balloon after the air has escaped. Limp, lifeless and a thousand miles from the nearest helium tank.

Husband thinks I should just start querying, even before my writer’s group gives me feedback (which is July 28). I vacillate. I’m proud enough of the manuscript to want to start querying literary agents. I’m terrified enough to think I should wait for more feedback.

The worst thing about deflated balloon limbo state is that your confidence goes to sh**.

And, so when I get in these moods — the one I’m in now — I go back and read Tessa’s email to me. Especially the last line which is like life-giving air to this tired old balloon.

I can see the front cover so clearly, Mandy. Be ready — because this could be very BIG!!!!!!!!

Stay the Course -- No Matter How Rough or Easy

2010-06-03T13:11:00.000-07:00

I explained to my therapist Joanie a few sessions ago that I was prepared for the arduous journey to publication and the hundreds of rejections just waiting to be sent my way. “I know it will be hard,” I said. She answered, “Why does it have to be hard?”

I’d read so many accounts from writers who described the demoralizing, time-consuming process of querying, waiting for response (rejection), querying some more, and repeating the ritual, sometimes for years. These ‘cheery’ accounts did nothing for my confidence.

But Joanie had a point. She’d relayed the story of how she went back to school to become a therapist and how many people warned her of the difficulty of establishing a practice in a small town. And yet, she’s extremely successful and didn’t encounter any of the roadblocks everyone warned her about.

I’ve been fortunate to receive some early positive feedback from two literary agents who presented webinars for Writer’s Digest. Both offered to critique query letters and/or first chapters of participants. Here’s what one agent wrote about my first chapter of God Doesn’t Like Sweet Cornbread (and Other Things She Told Me):

I started reading and was immediately engaged. Such a strong and compelling voice, and what a story! I wanted to keep hanging out with Cissy. You are clearly a wonderful writer. But at the same time, the subject matter is so horrendous that I’m not sure if I’d keep reading. It would depend on how much you referred to the heinous acts of the father versus staying in the present. In any case, if I were reading this manuscript, I’d sure keep reading for awhile to see where it goes.

I just added a new post-it note to my inspiration board at the office that says, “It doesn’t have to be hard. Believe.”

Sometimes I think we make ourselves sick by anticipating the worst instead of expecting the best. Setting intentions is so important -- they keep us on the right path, regardless how rough or easy the journey. That's what matters.

In my next blog: Writing about horrendous acts and people without turning off your readers.

334 Pages! Hallelujah and All That!

2010-05-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

At about 4:45 p.m. Central time on May 26, I finished the first draft of the novel. 334 pages. 82,000 words. It took everything in me not to type “The End” to make it official. I reached this milestone on the back patio of my sister’s house in Glen Rose, Texas. A huge grin came over my face. Then I felt like bawling. Then I felt like shouting. Then I grinned some more.

Alone for the afternoon, I had no one to tell in person and cell service was spotty out in the country. I actually didn’t feel like telling anyone at first. I kept downplaying the significance. My heart wanted it to be a big deal but my mind took the critical road, reminding me it was a ‘draft.’ “What’s the big deal about a draft?” it said. “Draft means unfinished.”

When my sister got home from work I asked for a hug and she asked me what was wrong. I said nothing was wrong but that I finished the first draft of the novel. She hugged me like nobody’s business and insisted she and I go out to dinner.

Facebook friends have been enthusiastic over the news, which helps me give that critical voice the finger. I texted Micki, my friend and fellow writers’ group member. She called, shouting her congratulations from Durango, Colorado. I could feel her smile through the cell phone, which was going in and out, but I got the gist of the message. She understood the significance of the moment because she had experienced the same gamut of emotions after completing the first draft of her book last October.

Like Micki did with hers, I took my draft to a photocopying place and made spiral bound copies for the writing group to review and mark up. Then my sister and brother each wanted a copy. I ordered six and charged a hefty amount to my credit card. Worth every damn penny because it gave me a substantial and ceremonious way to say “This phase has ended! Hallelujah and all that!”

Don't Kill Michael Ventura: He's Only the Messenger

2010-05-11T16:24:00.000-07:00

This week, I ran across a fascinating column by Michael Ventura (well, all his stuff is thought-provoking but some pieces slice to the bone and leave you bleeding without a tourniquet).

Here’s an excerpt:
Writing is something you do alone in a room. Copy that sentence and put it on your wall because there’s no way to exaggerate or overemphasize this fact. It’s the most important thing to remember if you want to be a writer. Writing is something you do alone in a room. Before any issues of style, content, or form can be addressed, the fundamental questions are: How long can you stay in that room? How many hours a day? How do you behave in that room? How often can you go back to it? How much fear (and, for that matter, how much elation) can you endure by yourself? How many years can you remain alone in a room?

Ventura had validated the insanity I’ve felt at times (ok, often) when trying to find a literal room in which to write or the writer’s room in my mind that allows me to create anywhere and anytime. It gives me pause to think about being in either room for YEARS, silently creating, desperately rewriting, anxiously waiting… Waiting for what? I’m going to be in this ‘room’ for the foreseeable future, whether or not I publish the current novel I’m writing. Why? Because the second one has been waiting patiently (not so patiently) for me to finish the first. Then the third one will tap at the door, asking to be written, and I’ll still be in that room -- me, myself and I.

I used to think the anxiety I felt before sitting down to write was because I hadn’t found the perfect room. That search could be endless: a comfortable chair and desk, the right rug, a piece of art, maybe a favorite mug. The room would have to be the right temperature in all seasons. What a time suck (and mind fuck) to search for the elusive room when it's right there in front of us, scary as hell and empty, waiting for an occupant with the sheer mental tenacity to be a writer.

What I love about Ventura is his bluntness: regardless of your talent, you must find strength of mind and spirit to survive the isolation of a writer’s life.

Oddly, I don’t feel overwhelmed by this message. It’s the smelling salts I need right now to face what I’ve always known: writing is hard, writing is lonely, writing is as essential as air and water.

Of Marathons, Cupcakes and Champagne

2010-05-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

I recently posted on Facebook that I’m close to finishing the first draft of the novel but I needed to stay motivated. My friend and work colleague, Janet, posted a comment saying my situation sounded like “mile 10” of a half marathon. She described it as a point when she feels almost a sense of relief, yet knows she still has 3.1 miles to go. She said she just digs in, focuses her mind and pushes through.

I haven’t run a half marathon but I’ve walked three. Janet is so right. By mile 10, I’ve put in so much hard work I want to cry. I get an odd sense of euphoria and despondency about the last push to the finish line. I start making deals with myself. “Dear body, if you just finish, I’ll let you eat whatever you want. I’ll find you a hot tub to soak in. I’ll find some ice for that knee. I’ll schedule a massage.”

Today, I can see my writing finish line, just right there, off in the distance — 85,000+ words committed to paper, ready for review by trusted friends and writers.

That’s just the end of the first race, though. Completing a rewrite is half marathon number two. Landing an agent is a marathon. Getting a publishing contract is the Iron Man Triathlon.

Each finish line deserves respect and celebration. I could have sworn that Deonne (a writer whose blog I follow) celebrated her first draft with champagne and cupcakes, yet I can’t find that on her blog. Maybe I was daydreaming of the way I wanted to celebrate. In fact, that sounds damn good. Champagne and cupcakes all around (if you’re in Durango, Colorado, that is.)

I'll cross the finish line sometime in late June or early July. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, any ideas on how I should celebrate other than sobbing hysterically and napping for 18 hours?

P.S. Cupcake by Yellow Carrot, Durango. Photo by Carson Jones, Red Scarf Shots.

It's Damn Near Impossible to Interview the Dead

2010-04-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

When I attended a writers’ retreat last August at Ghost Ranch with about 80 other writers, I was surprised to learn how many were writing memoirs. I always thought of memoirs as something you wrote as you neared the end of your life (like we can even guess when that will happen!). A woman I met there just finished the first draft of her memoir. I never asked her age but she doesn’t look like she’s hit her 40s yet. Still, she’s committed to paper a history of her life.

I’m ashamed to say I used to think memoirs self-indulgent (what makes your life so interesting, huh?). I’ve done a complete 180 on this. Every life is interesting! More importantly, if you think you’re going to remember all the juicy, painful, intoxicating moments of your life when you are on your deathbed, you are wrong. It takes work to remember the past, analyze it, sort out what happened and how you felt about it, as well as its significance in your life today.

The first novel I started more than a year ago (23 Conversations Before My Funeral), I called a work of fiction when in fact I used many experiences from my own life, only I expanded on them and called the character Audrey. She had children; I do not. She’s dying of cancer at 48. I’m not ill, nor am I 48. The point is that there are compelling, heart-wrenching, lesson-filled experiences in my past that make for interesting reading (or at least I think so).

Both my parents are dead, and buried with them are the many fascinating stories of their lives I will never know about. My dad was in WWII but speaking of his time in the war was taboo in my home. I knew his experiences were painful enough to lead to alcoholism and a very angry life. His younger brother, now almost 90, served in the Navy in WWII as well. My brother, Paul, visits this uncle every Sunday to have lunch. Recently I asked Paul to ask my uncle about details of his time in the war as well as my dad’s. It struck me that my uncle is nearing the end of his life — and he is the last one alive who can pass down the stories of my father’s life. I almost had a panic attack that he would die before my brother could ask him the questions!

Through my brother’s visit with him, I learned so much, including that my dad served aboard the USS San Francisco in the Battle of Guadalcanal. His ship was being blasted from all sides. Daddy was on the gun crew, the guy who put the powder charges into the big gun. The last guy in the "bucket brigade" tossing powder charges to the gun saw an enemy plane diving for them and at the last minute tossed the 50-pound charge *at* my father who, unaware, was knocked off the platform. The rest of the gun crew was killed in that battle, Daddy the sole survivor.

You don’t have to be a memoir writer or published author to capture your family’s history, including your own. The significance of knowing where we come from can’t be underestimated. Don’t wait until it’s too late to ask those you love about their lives.

Yes, Detective, She Was Wearing a Purple Wig

2010-04-19T10:37:00.000-07:00

I spent a portion of the weekend revising chapters that my writing group critiqued last week. I was a little put off that one member of the group said a chapter was unpolished but a good first draft. What?! Well, she was right. It struck me that handing over pages for review is like submitting a police report. I provide the details as I see them but then the detective’s job is to ask more questions.

What color was the car? Was the car still running? Who else was in the store? What was she wearing? Could you tell us more about her surroundings? When X was standing in the hallway, where was Y?

The funny thing is that one member of my group is actually a police detective AND a damn fine writer. So her questions probe for details my mind has brushed past in order to get the story on paper. At times, I rush through the telling and need someone to slow me down and ask those questions that allow me to fully develop scenes and characters, to paint a picture that others can see as clearly as I do.

It also struck me that everyone – not just writers – can benefit from slowing down. When your spouse or significant other asks you to describe your day, do you rush through it perhaps missing those details that are most important to convey?

When you describe a movie, do you fall back on clichés like “lots of action” or “too much gore” instead of describing how the purple-haired, 12-year-old Hit Girl bounded through the narrow hallway like an acrobat, climbing the walls at times as she stabbed one bad guy after the other, finally landing on top of the last guy’s shoulders and stabbing him through the top of the head.

I’m just saying that life is in the details.

When I'm Not Really the Author and I Realize I Can Fly

2010-04-05T15:27:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks, I’ve enjoyed a period of prolific writing on the novel. I've leapt ahead from halfway to almost two-thirds complete. I’ve felt an urgency to write that I haven’t felt in more than a year. Actually, I’ve felt an urgency to tell the story. The hitch is that I don’t always know where the story is going.

I’ve taken to writing long hours in my recliner-that-is-made-to-not-look-like-a-recliner. Andy wanders in and out of the living room where I sit and write. He reads the paper or plays Sudoku or watches a bit of TV. I mumble aloud sometimes, partly to him and partly to myself.

Last Saturday afternoon, he asked why I was crying. I said, "Because Grandmother is dying of cancer and has to tell her best friend." Until I had written the scene, I had no idea that’s where the book was going. This development has serious implications for Cissy, the protagonist. Grandmother has been the only family member to stand by Cissy after she killed her father and was committed to a state psychiatric facility.

When he caught me crying, I was writing the scene where Grandmother would tell her black housekeeper, Natty, also in her 70s, about the cancer. This was one of those pure moments of inspiration, written from both within and outside myself, where I’m the author and yet I’m not the author. During these precious moments, I try not to think too hard about it lest I wake from a beautiful dream where I'm flying.

Here’s a snippet from that chapter.

Natty and I have been together longer than I had been married, but we didn’t always get along. She came from a family of women who took care of other people's households. Her mama had kept house for my in-laws since the dawn of time. When Beau and I married in 1922, Natty joined our household. I suspect she resented having to wait on someone her own age. My people weren’t from money, so I crossed boundaries Natty had been reared to never breach. I wanted her to like me and I wanted her to respect me as her employer. Reconciling those two desires took some time and more than a few shouting matches to stake out our respective territories.

After I had Caroline, we called a truce and territorial lines blurred. That baby mesmerized Natty, softening the hardest of her edges. She couldn’t bear to hear Caroline cry and would cry along with her. Some nights I’d find Natty, tears running down her cheeks, rocking a squalling Caroline and singing an old Negro hymn. More than a few mornings, I found them asleep in the nursery rocker, Caroline slumbering across Natty’s sizable bosom. After Caroline’s birth, I’d miscarried two other pregnancies and Natty mourned for weeks, heartbroken she’d been deprived of loving two other precious souls as she did Caroline.

“I love you, Natty,” I said and patted her forearm. “I don’t tell you often enough.”

“You’ve never said it, Mrs. Clayton. Is the heat getting to you again?” She winked.

“Natty, you can call me Janelle if you like.” I didn’t know why I made the offer. Lately, my words had declared independence and it proved impossible to stop them.

“I’ve called you Mrs. Clayton for too long to go changing to your first name,” she said and let out a deep, throaty laugh. “You needn’t worry. I know we’re friends.”

“I haven’t always been a good friend,” I admitted.

Natty let the comment sit between us, its truth too heavy to dispute or joke about.

“I know you have the sickness,” Natty said.

“I figured you did.”

She didn’t ask for details and I offered none.

“It’s getting to be lunch time,” she said slapping her thighs. “How about some cold fried chicken?”

“That’d be fine. And why don't you bring the rest of the blackberry pie as well.”

"Boo!" Said the Devil on Facebook

2010-04-02T10:39:00.000-07:00

I’m lucky to be able to use the written word to ‘say’ things I wasn’t able to say at one time, to right wrongs, to heal old wounds, to raise consciousness. Writing has helped me process some of the most painful moments in my life. Sometimes I’ve written essays that are private, never to be published or shared. Sometimes I’ve fictionalized my experiences or used humor to soften the horrific.

I survived Catholic School, but just barely, so God, religion and nuns make their way into a lot of my writing. Some memories are 35 years old – deep, twisted scars that cannot be lasered away or tattooed over.

My friend, Emil, posted on Facebook some class photos from the Catholic school we both attended, although I was one year behind him. Late last night, as I was perusing the photos, I came face to face with some of the nuns who reside in my short stories and essays. I literally lost my breath as if the Devil himself appeared on my computer screen. My memories haven’t been so crystal clear because I remembered those nuns as black, amorphous blobs in habits, no facial features. The photos, though, sharpened the memories, giving them razor edges and form they haven’t had in a while. "Boo!" they said. "Remember me?"

“Stop looking at that stuff,” my husband chastised. “They’re long dead. They can’t hurt you anymore.” The thing is, they aren’t dead for me – and may never be.

Here’s a snippet of a short story:

The crack of a hardbound text book against the back of Eddie’s head stuns us into silence. Although we sit perfectly still, we fight to control our limbs that have been flooded with adrenaline.

I am ashamed to admit how grateful I am that Eddie is attracting Sister Olive’s attention.
I cannot look at Eddie as tears stream down his mud brown cheeks. He is the son of a migrant worker and only in school a part of the year. When he is asked to read aloud, he is unable to pronounce many of the words and his accent makes others unrecognizable.

At 10 years old, I am still too young to attach the label of abuse to what I witness almost every day. Fear is a classmate and together we learn to read, to multiply, to love Jesus.

Despite what I see and experience myself, I am happy to be in school each day because then I don’t have to be at home where I am more afraid.

Most nights I dream of the devil in vivid detail. During the day, she is real and teaches me to fear God and pray for my soul.

In first grade, Sister Mary holds up a clean glass of water and tells us that it is like our pure souls at birth. She walks over to the potted begonias on the window sill and digs out some peat and soil to mix with the water. “This is your souls today, children, because you are sinners,” she says. From that day on, I am grateful for every opportunity to pray for my soul and gladly sprinkle my bed with holy water each night as she instructs us to do -- insurance against a visit from the Devil.

I'm Not Leering, I'm Peeking at Your Kindle

2010-03-31T11:45:00.000-07:00

My friend Arlene forwarded me an article from today’s New York Times about the e-book era bumping book covers off the subway, the coffee table and the beach.

Book covers have had such a profound importance to both readers and publishers and I became a little panicked after reading the article. I LOVE BOOK COVERS! When I’m on an airplane or in a coffee shop, I always sneak a peek at what others are reading. And when I browse Maria’s, my local independent bookseller, book covers are what draw me in — the graphics, the colors, the typefaces used. A captivating book cover invites strangers to ask what you’re reading and whether you’d recommend the book. I wouldn’t feel the same about peering over someone’s shoulder to read their Kindle. (And with my deteriorating eyesight, the task would prove impossible or dangerous anyway.)

Publishers stand to lose as well. Book covers are an important marketing tool, a chance to create an iconic look that others recognize. (For example, the blood-red apple used on the black cover of Stephenie Meyers’ Twilight.)

In the bookstore, where a majority of sales still take place, covers play a crucial role. “If you have already passed that hurdle of having a customer be attracted to the cover, and then they pick up the book,” said Patricia Bostelman, vice president for marketing at Barnes & Noble, “an enormous battle has been won.”

I haven’t considered a Kindle because I love the heft of a book, the way the paper feels, how bookshelves add warmth and interest to a room (and say something fairly public about who you are by what you’re reading).

Have you purchased a book based on the title and book cover alone? Do you have a favorite book cover to share? I especially liked “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” whose cover has a cut-out of the black poodle. Or have you given up printed books in favor of e-readers?

Platforms (and I Don't Mean the Shoes)

2010-03-26T07:54:00.000-07:00

I recently attended a Writer’s Digest webinar titled “What Editors and Agents Want.” Great information but sobering. Not only does a writer’s manuscript have to be well-written with a fresh theme, he or she must provide proof of platform. The 60 of us on the call paused for the punch line. Platform. Our ability to build a community willing to purchase our book. Examples include blog followers and Facebook friends. Well, that sent a panic through the group. The vast majority didn’t write a blog nor could they imagine building up 1,000 or more followers (the presenter’s recommendation).

Publishers aren’t willing to take risks as they did in the old days. They want to know a writer will be a partner in marketing the book and generating sales. The presenter acknowledged platform is more important when pitching a non-fiction book. You have to be an “expert” of sorts to prove your book has credibility and platform adds to that. Fiction writers won’t necessarily be held to the same standard but the question will be asked. “Who will want to read your book?”

I have 126 Facebook friends. I could increase those numbers by adding work colleagues from Goodwills across the country or school mates from childhood but the platform would be artificial. Just because someone remembers me from grade school or has met me at a conference doesn’t mean he or she would buy my book. Plus, I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook right now. Posts I want to read are buried in hundreds of non-sensical ones from people with whom I rarely connect. Do I really want to add another 500 people who really don't give a hoot about me?

I have a hard enough time writing my blog regularly and only a few people actually read it once I post (thanks, guys!). Sitting in my chair, this dreary Friday morning, I’m overwhelmed with how to build my blog readership. If you have ideas, just let me know. I think it counts if you sign up your pets as followers.

Does Resisting Hardwork Make Me (gasp) a Slacker?

2010-03-14T07:58:00.000-07:00

I had a friend and my sister both tell me they’ve been checking for a new blog. And it’s been more than a month. I tell myself I’ve been too busy with work, writing on the book, writing short stories and sending them out, etc. That’s a crock of doo-doo.

Writing on a consistent basis – book, blog, journal – is hard work. On some level, I’ve been resisting that hard work.

The same friend sent me this quote:
"The great composer does not set to work because he is inspired," wrote music critic Ernest Newman, "but becomes inspired because he is working. Beethoven, Wagner, Bach, and Mozart settled down day after day to the job in hand. They didn't waste time waiting for inspiration."

I’m not comparing myself to a great composer but the reality is the same. Any creative person must be committed to his/her craft, good days, bad days, rainy days, sunny days. I’m admitting to my readership of nine or so people that I’ve not been committed.

I’m still at about the 40,000-word mark on the novel. That’s about halfway. I’ve been stuck at this point like a dieter who’s reached a plateau. Like someone with OCD, I go back over previous work and rewrite, tweak, rearrange.

Slogging through that first rough draft is priority one. Blogging on a more consistent basis, priority two.

I think the principle can be applied to most people and most endeavors. Have you wanted to learn to paint or take a photography class but work, children, life get in the way? Have you wanted to open your own business but the timing hasn’t been right? We’ve all been stuck. What have you done to become unstuck?

Your Writing Makes Me Vomit (or Words Not to That Effect)

2010-01-29T06:57:00.001-08:00

Reject (the verb) is such a god-awful word and its literal definitions are downright depressing:

--To refuse to accept, submit to, believe, or make use of.
--To discard as defective or useless.
--To spit out or vomit.

It’s a shame that we use the word so liberally in the writing world. “Honey, I got another rejection today!”

I know that journal editors are not vomiting my writing or saying it’s defective. How rude would that be! Yet, they aren’t saying much when they send the generic note card or half slip of paper that looks like it’s been photocopied a thousand times. Sure, some of those note cards are mighty fancy and would be something to ooh and ahh over if they were party invitations and not the bearers of bad news.

In five months, my “no” pile has grown to 36 and my “yes” pile is a lonely one acceptance. The good news is that those 36 rejections (no thank-yous) were for 13 different pieces. A published author I know said not to dare complain about rejection until one piece has been turned down 10, 20, 40 times. Some of my short stories and essays have only received 2, 3, and 4 rejections. I’ll hold the tears for now.

The best news is that from time to time you’ll actually hear from a real live person who reads your work and responds with feedback that will help you improve the piece. I submitted a short fiction piece to Our Stories literary magazine. Today, I received a critique from an editor. Below is a short excerpt from her much longer review:

As you have noticed, I hardly made any corrections throughout the text: your prose is really clear and beautiful; the voice sucks you in and doesn’t let go till the end. Right now, however, this entry has a feel of an exercise in the character’s background, voice and working out of the mother-daughter relationship dynamics, rather than a complete short story. The dramatic arc is lacking in the present. There is a slow reveal of information, but it has minimal effect on characters in the current set-up. So, given these wonderful, fully-formed, complex characters with distinctive voices and personal histories, launch them into a real story, while keeping all of the other info in either flashbacks or exposition or – in part – in the bride’s thoughts.

Eureka! This gives me something to chew on. I get what she’s saying and have tangible advice to guide my revision. That kind of “rejection” motivates me to rewrite rather than turn to chocolate ice cream. Hurray for these kinds of days in a writer’s life.

The Swirl and Swing of Words

2010-01-11T18:52:00.000-08:00

Last year, my sister sent me a Laini’s Lady ornament called The Writing Muse and I keep it near my computer. On it is a quote from James Michener that has special significance as I reignite the passion for my work. “I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.”

It was exactly a year ago when Cissy’s story first came to me in a hotel room in Phoenix. That morning as I waited to check out of the hotel after an amazing weekend with an old friend, Cissy’s voice was as clear as if she were in the room with me.

I’ve been afraid that I was losing Cissy’s voice over the last month. I got bogged down in self-doubt. I worried if the story was marketable and the story wasn’t even finished yet!

After some compassionate and insightful feedback from two fellow writers whose judgment I trust, I have delved back into Cissy’s world to add more setting description. Initially, their feedback shut me down a bit. I spoke about these feelings to a dear friend of mine who said something that turned my mood around. She said that when people ask for more details and description, they are not pointing out a deficiency in my writing. They are asking me to give them a gift of the details I already have in my head and have not committed to paper.

Once I let go of the self-doubt -– and did some serious talking to my guides and the universe -– a dam came crashing down and words rushed out almost faster than I could type.

Here are two rewritten paragraphs (from different chapters) infused with what Cissy and I “see”:

Mama said painting a wall white was telling the world you had no imagination so our rooms at home were bright yellows, greens and blues, colors of the Old South, she’d say. The utter lack of color at the hospital made me self-conscious. I suspected that my red hair, whipped wildly into knots from the drive, drew the girls’ stares or maybe it was my hot pink sandals, which I regretted wearing on my first day.

Sometimes when I’m not so interested in what Dr. Guttmann is saying, I think about how many things in his office beg to be touched – the sheet of thick glass that covers his cherry desk, the rough pile of the brown carpet beneath my slippers, the sleek coolness of the black leather couch. Although smell is my favorite sense, touch is close second because the surfaces of things sometimes speak louder than words. A porcupine’s quills say “Back off!” while kitten fur says “Squeeze me carefully.”

I can't wait to continue Cissy's story. She still has much to say.

Who Knew I Was a Commitment-Phobe?

2009-12-23T10:45:00.000-08:00

Twelve posts in September, five in October, three in November and ONE in December, if I hurry and post this.

This dismal blogging record is just a symptom of a larger problem that thankfully I addressed in therapy this week! (Thank you, Joanie T., for being so wise.)

My writing inertia is actually the topic of most of my sessions but Tuesday’s session was pivotal in that I finally *got* why I’m so blocked.

First, my working life to this point has been defined by the external. Almost all of my self-confidence came from the recognition I got for my work and for being such a “hard worker.” A writing life does not afford this type of recognition. Writers go for long periods without feedback, except for those nasty little rejection slips.

Second, I haven’t made a commitment to a writing life. I’ve been all talk and no action. Joanie used the word “random” to describe my writing habits. She’s brilliant because that’s exactly what the past three months have been like. I’ve let work (my day job) encroach on my Monday and Friday writing days. I’ve procrastinated by doing laundry, cleaning the cat box and other chores that could and should wait for the weekend when my spouse can help me.

My analysis: on a subconscious level, I’ve not committed to a writing life so that when/if I fail, I haven’t invested so much of myself in the effort. FEAR has stopped me from living the life I’m meant to lead.

My square, Type A personality is not responding well to the lack of structure, either. I have an office that I rent for my day job. I have a space to go to -- but I haven’t made it a writer’s space. My goal is to equip it with a comfy chair, a rug, a bookshelf for my lovely books, my intention board, fresh flowers, candles and personal items.

The greatest gift I can give myself this holiday season is to own the mantle of writer.

A Gift of Spirit and a Kick in the Pants

2009-11-30T07:15:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, my friend LaVonne (75 years young) and I decided to drive to the neighboring town of Bayfield to visit the woo-woo store there, Pathways. I figured it was a nice way to spend a morning with a dear friend – it ended up being something so much more.

We were browsing the section with tarot and oracle cards. One set caught my eye: the Ascended Masters Oracle Cards. I was happy to see a “demo” or store copy open so I could see the beautiful illustrations of the deck. I lifted the deck mid-way and the card I saw first said:

Creative WritingArchangel Gabriel: "Make time to write down your thoughts in a journal, or pen an article or book."

I laughed out loud and told LaVonne that spirit must want me to get serious about my book writing (which I haven’t been lately).

The clerk asked what I was laughing about and I told her. She asked if I’d share the storylines of the three books I’ve started. I gave a very brief synopsis and noticed her eyes teared.

The book I’m working on the most is about a Cissy, a 16-year-old in 1960s Mississippi who shoots her father, who’s abused her for the past 10 years. The clerk told me of a relative who has a daughter in Mississippi named Cissy who is 16 years old and tyring to be emancipated from her parents because of her father’s sexual abuse.

I still can’t believe what I heard. I took it as a gift from spirit that I’m on the right track and to keep writing!

That evening, I searched the Internet for information on Archangel Gabriel. Here’s a paragraph I found that hit me like a ton of bricks:

Gabriel loves to coach and help you with writing. He can open doors for publication and will help you in the enjoyment of your writing. He will push you into action. He will reassure you that it is safe to be powerful.

If that wasn’t enough, the web site said the crystal associated with Gabriel is citrine – the crystal I bought at the store earlier that day.

So, today, I feel renewed and energized to continue Cissy’s story. I have the crystal next to my computer and a steaming mug of decaf.

Thank you, spirit, for an early Christmas present! Readers and writers, have you experienced these types of synchronicities in your life? Please share!

Reading, Writing and Guilt

2009-11-18T13:24:00.000-08:00

After the AROHO writers’ retreat I attended in August, I was gung-ho about signing up for writer’s blogs and subscribing to writing magazines. I bought works by short story writers I hoped to emulate.

I work at a national nonprofit as a marketing/communications specialist three days a week (Tuesday-Thursday). I envisioned Mondays and Fridays as days to devote to reading and writing. Instead, I’ve been in a quagmire of guilt because I haven’t done much of either lately. The stack of books and magazines sits on my nightstand and mocks me. “Look at the money you spent on us!” “Stop being such a cry baby and get to work!”

I’ve always been such a motivated ‘employee.’ Yet, I’ve found it difficult to stay energized about my craft when I’m only accountable to me, myself and I. I suppose self doubt fuels apathy, which then translates to procrastination.

Yikes. What a pity party I’m having today. Writers – how much do you read and how do you make time for it?

It's the Plot, Stupid

2009-11-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

Oh my, it’s been a while since I last wrote. Life has been busy but in a very good way. I just got back from 10 days in the British Virgin Islands on the lovely island of Tortola, which my husband and I have visited three times. It’s not an island for those craving night life. The slow, plodding way of life lends itself to rum punches, long naps in the sun and plenty of time for reading.

I foolishly brought my laptop thinking I’d either make enormous progress on the novel or start a new one for National Novel Writing Month. Well, I did neither. It was my vacation and writing seemed like work. This realization makes me a little sad but I’m giving myself a break. I NEEDED REST!

I do have something writing-related to report. The resort had a library of bestsellers with suntan lotion grease marks, dog-eared pages and airline ticket stubs as bookmarkers.
While on vacation, I read five paperbacks (almost six). The authors were biggies: Picoult, Baldacci, Higgins Clark, Grisham, Cornwell.

The bestsellers were plot- not character-driven, although the books had extremely well-developed characters (including the long-standing medical examiner Kaye Scarpetta). The authors hit you over the head with the issue or conflict right off the bat and continued to remind you of it. Characterization was secondary and flowed from the storyline.

This may seem like ABCs to veteran writers but for those of us who also drift toward literary fiction, characters can take over our works. We become so closely associated with them that we don’t stop to put ourselves in our readers’ shoes. They might just be asking “Who cares?” unless we give them a reason to read more. That involves putting our characters up against personal or physical challenges.

Have you tried to balance plot and character in your works? I’d love to hear about it.

A Novel in a Month -- Ready, Set, Go!

2009-10-21T09:17:00.001-07:00

November is National Novel Writing Month. Seriously. A whole month dedicated to writing 50,000 words.

My local paper featured an article on this because 14 people in my area actually did this last year. Durango’s pretty darn small. What’s up with those 14 people?

The NaNoWriMo web site (I’m not making this up) explains the effort this way: Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly. Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

NaNoWriMo started in 1999 with 21 writers. In 2008, there were 119,301 writers and 21,683 reached the 50,000-word minimum by November 30. (You have to register and then upload your work by that date to qualify as a winner.)

Many of these writers went on to successfully publish their books (after some editing and rewriting, of course).

I’m intrigued by the idea yet don’t want to stop writing on my current novel for an entire month. (Rules say you can’t jump in with a work in progress because you’re already too attached to it.)

Yet, what a great way to throw caution to the wind and write without emotional investment. I’ll let you know if I decide to try this. What about you? Interested?

Attack of the Query Shark!

2009-10-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

No excuses for the long break between posts except that my injured knee and I have been throwing a pity party. The darn joint won’t cooperate and will likely keep me out of the half marathon in Moab, UT on Sunday. Oh well, I got tons of writing done in bed, knee propped up, ice pack in place, listening to tiny violins play in the background.

I also had some quality Internet time and found two great sites I’d like to share:
http://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/
http://queryshark.blogspot.com

Both blogs are written by Janet Reid, a literary agent. She’s smart, funny and snarky as hell. The best part is reading her comments on poorly written query letters as well as those that made her want to sign the author.

Believe me, you’ll be entertained for hours and you’ll start to think you’re one of the greatest writers of all time after reading some of the crap that’s submitted. There’s also lots of great advice – so poke around and read posts like “7 Ways to Drive Your Agent Crazy” and “How to Make Sure Your Query is Instantly Rejected.”

I know, I know. You may not have finished your book or memoir yet. Write a query letter anyway. It’s great practice – you can always revise it later.

And before you send your query out into the big, scary world, send it to the Query Shark first. She'll toughen your skin and possibly help you turn a mediocre query into one that sings.

Conjure the Dream

2009-10-09T15:05:00.000-07:00

I've written several times about my intention board -- it has my calls to the universe for things I want to manifest in my life. Well, until today, they've only been words on Post-It notes; nothing visual.

I recently ran across a powerful exercise for first-time novelists. You're supposed to seek out an image you think represents your future book cover -- and then cut out words and paste up a mock cover to remind you of the dream of publishing that manuscript one day.

Can I just say HOW MUCH FUN it was to do this? I have some graphic design expertise so I did a pretty involved mock-up (see photo). Then, I did one for the two women in my writers' group. (We had breakfast today to pump each other for a Friday full of writing.)

The Artist's Way also encourages writers to imagine all the juicy details of their dreams. Not just stating "Publish book." The author suggests writing specifics about what it would mean to achieve that dream. My image is walking in downtown Durango past Maria's, our independent bookstore, and seeing copies of my book in the window with a sign, "Latest Novel from Local Author Mandy Mikulencak."

A former co-worker of mine would write her dreams/wants/desires on pieces of paper, fold them up and hide them in different places in her house. Another would write out her intentions and then burn them, sending the smoke up as her request to the universe.

Do you take time to conjure your dream, in all its glorious details? I highly recommend it.

The POV Smorgasbord

2009-10-07T06:37:00.000-07:00

I’m reading a fascinating book called "Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular" by Rust Hills.

There’s a lot of great stuff in the book but the chapter on point of view is especially compelling. He goes into the whole list of types (omniscient, first person, third person, scenic, central intelligence) but then goes on to say “It seems to me that the proper attitude for the writer is to leave the systematizing to someone else and just rejoice that there are so many methods.”

I liked that he outlined some of the limitations of certain POVs but encouraged writers to not be bound by certain rules and conventions. BUT BE SMART ABOUT IT. He describes the work of some authors who intentionally and thoughtfully break POV rules which can be mesmerizing and brilliant. But when beginning writers “break the rules unwittingly, with nothing accomplished by it, it harms the story foolishly.”

Part of the chapter discusses how authors ‘choose’ which POV to use. He proposes that most times, this decision is unconscious. The technique is second to the story that’s within you aching to be told.

The characters in my novels have pretty strong first-person voices and I wouldn’t go against their wishes to try out third-person limited or omniscient. But I think it’s worthwhile to practice other POVs. I’m considering writing a short story based on the true story of an elderly woman who was eaten by a bear because she refused warnings not to feed dog food to the bears in her neighborhood. Does her husband tell the story? Does the kid living next door? Or do I serve as a omniscient narrative of this tragic tale?

So many juicy choices. Hills is right -- let’s rejoice that we have so many methods at our disposable.

Which POV are you most comfortable using? Have you stretched outside that POV yet?

Inspiration as Writing Partner

2009-10-02T12:58:00.000-07:00

Some people, when they learn I write fiction, say they’d love to do the same thing but they just don’t have a great imagination.

Until October 2008, I said the very same thing. I had been a non-fiction writer for more than 20 years; it felt comfortable and it paid the bills. Truthfully, I didn’t think I had a story in me so fiction held no allure.

When I started the first book almost exactly a year ago, I had NO CHOICE in the matter. I’m not going to get too woo-woo here but the inspiration and many times the words themselves came from somewhere outside of me. Pressed into service, I dutifully took dictation, sometime hours at a time.

Where the hell did THAT come from, I’d ask in disbelief. My characters would do and say the most extraordinary things, all of their own accord.

I’m not saying I don’t bring talent to the table. I just know I’m not writing alone and I’m more than okay with that. I don’t call my inspiration a muse. I believe I have a team of guides with me, especially for the writing. (Woo-woo Alert!) Sometimes, I welcome them with burning sage. I definitely say thank-you after a productive day of writing.

From time to time, I feel an intense pressure and burning sensation at the back of my head during fervent writing sessions – maybe just a friendly nudge from the team.

I’m fully connected to the characters in my books but I don’t try to force the story on them. Sometimes, they’ll say, “Mandy, I really wouldn’t say that. Try again.” I sigh and rewrite. When I get it right, I feel it in my gut.

The Artist’s Way says that creativity is an expression of the divine at work. I think it’s connectivity with our universe and all the creative energy we share, past and present.

Do you feel inspiration from outside yourself? How would you describe it?

Wonderful, Frustrating Google

2009-09-30T16:53:00.000-07:00

ARGH! Google fatigue! Information overload!

I wasted about 2 hours today trying to research how the juvenile courts worked in 1970s Mississippi. I need information on how my novel’s protagonist, Cissy, will make her way through the criminal justice system and into a state mental hospital.

I’m starting to believe I’d have better luck with a card catalogue system at a university library.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Google. I use it EVERY SINGLE DAY for something. Looking up phone numbers, checking spelling of corporate names, finding restaurants or hotels, etc.

I’m just frustrated by the inability of the World Wide Web to serve me what I want on a silver platter, straight to my computer. Did I think research for a novel would be that easy? Well, not really. But I was hoping that Google would narrow down my options.

I’m wondering how other authors go about research, especially those who write on complicated subjects including law, medicine, espionage.

Let me know if you’ve faced similar challenges. What subjects have you had to research for your fiction?

Natura Naturans

2009-09-28T12:11:00.000-07:00

I first heard the phrase “Natura Naturans” from my nephew who plans to have the words tattooed on his back. It’s a Latin term for “nature naturing,” or more loosely “nature doing what nature does,” and it was top of mind today when I took a two-hour hike on the Lower Hermosa Creek trail near my home. In Durango, we’re experiencing an Indian summer with temperatures near 80 today so it would have been a crime to stay indoors.

Never before have the oaks been so vibrant in their fall color. My vocabulary was stunted for most of the walk and I rarely managed more than “Wow,” “Look!” and “Oh, those!”

Once again, a writer at a loss for words. The irony is that nothing inspires me as much as being in the woods. The colors, the scents, the sounds, the textures all call out for someone to catalog them but being so incredibly awe-inspiring, they defy description. They require participation.

I ran across an out of print book called Nature Writing: The Tradition in English. Writers like Muir, Dillard and Thoreau join many others in writing essays on their natural world.
I like to imagine them soaking in every detail of their experiences, passing those details through the filter of a writer’s mind, capturing at least the essence of natura naturans for others to experience from the page.

Today, I breathed in the mix of sun and dust and pine needles on the trail. I heard the lowing of the cattle herd still roaming the hills and the frantic scurrying and chattering of chipmunks and squirrels beneath fallen leaves and brush. I scratched the bark of an elder pine tree to smell the faintest hints of vanilla and burnt caramel. I allowed the wind and the sun to kiss my face, to embrace me, to wash away the worries of the metal and concrete world.

Has nature been an important part of your writing or creative life? In what way?

Real Writers Kill Dogs

2009-09-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

I want to recommend a book for anyone who is serious about fiction writing. It’s called “What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers” (Bernays/Painter).

One of the authors, Pam Painter, taught the weeklong fiction workshop I attended at Ghost Ranch in August. I’ve been a writer for 30 years and the exercises gave me completely different insight into writing techniques and revitalized all aspects of my writing.

There are too many brilliant exercises to mention but the one that’s on my mind is called Kill the Dog.

The authors write: “If you want to write serious fiction, you have to kill the neighbor’s dog. In fiction there is no avoiding the malevolent. In fact, there are very few states of mind or motivation that lie beyond your reach. You should be able to describe a tree, cooking a gourmet meal or slaughtering an animal, for one reason or another, you want to get rid of. Just as an actor assumes the role of a killer and makes him plausible, dispatch the animal convincingly and without flinching.”

YIKES! The emotional and physical reactions I had to reading that chapter were many: revulsion, horror, fear, anxiety, anger.

I still haven’t attempted this exercise. But I completely understand the need to stretch beyond the limits of what is comfortable.

In my novel, God Doesn’t Like Sweet Cornbread, the protagonist has been sexually assaulted by her father for 10 years. It’s not a pretty subject. In fact, some days I’m emotionally spent after spending time in Cissy’s head.

What do you think of this exercise? Have you written on difficult subjects, even put yourself in the shoes of a killer, villain or sleaze ball?

Word Count: The Evil Enemy

2009-09-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

I’m in week 8 of The Artist’s Way. Once again, I’m struck by the messages that were surely written specifically for me.

Here’s a passage:
Instead of allowing ourselves a creative journey, we focus on the length of the trip. Focused on process, our creative life retains a sense of adventure. Focused on product, the same creative life can seem foolish or barren. Creativity lies not in the done, but in doing.

I’ve learned that when you tell someone you’re writing a book, the first question you’re asked is “What’s it about?” The second question is “When will you be finished?”

The “word count” feature in Microsoft Word is an evil enemy because it keeps your eye on the product (a finished work of at least 80,000 words).

On my intention board was a Post-It note that read “Finish novel by Dec. 31, 2009.” I’ve replaced it with “Write each day. Show up.”

How can the story unfold naturally if I give myself a word limit and a deadline? I’m not a journalist any more. I’m a conduit for a story that aches to be told, that’s still being formed, that needs time and space to expand and contract.

Granted, a map on this journey would do a lot to ease my anxiety. But what if I decided to see that anxiety as anticipation of what’s to unfold?

In five or 10 years, when I look back at my path, I’m certain it won’t be one that I could’ve predicted.

What's the “product” that stands in the way of your creative process?

Best Revenge is Massive Success

2009-09-18T11:28:00.000-07:00

I walk along the river trail in Durango two to three times a week. I say hello to everyone I pass but only one out of several will reply or smile. I came home in a snit the other day because this trend really started to bother me. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked my husband.

The next day, I heard a bit on the radio about a study that revealed a person’s self-esteem is boosted when others smile or say hello to them. Aha! Each time someone failed to respond (smile, nod, speak), I felt rejected!

Rejection…a walker’s AND a writer’s constant companion.

My friend, Liz, from Austin, sent me a cool link about famous authors who were rejected repeatedly and often rudely by publishers and agents. I’ve never felt more hopeful about my novels’ prospects!

Here’s just a sample of the comments. Are you as blown away as I am?

Stephen King’s novel, Carrie, was rejected dozens of times. One publisher said: “We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell."
William Golding’s Lord of the Flies was rejected by 20 publishers. One denounced the future classic with these words: “An absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.”
Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind was rejected 38 times.
John Grisham’s first novel, A Time to Kill, was rejected by a dozen publishers and 16 agents before breaking into print and launching his best-selling career.
After John le Carré submitted his first novel, The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, one of the publishers sent it along to a colleague, with this message: “You’re welcome to le Carré – he hasn’t got any future.”

As Frank Sinatra once said, “The best revenge is massive success.”

Scrabble and the Sh**ty First Draft

2009-09-17T08:48:00.000-07:00

So, I skipped my blog on Thursday and played Scrabble instead. My husband’s sister (Camm) and brother (Garth) are in town and she’s a Scrabble fiend.

Here’s the irony. I’m a professional writer and editor and I can only come up with words like aim, key, box, top, get. But because we play gals against guys, she’s the reason we win.

Sometimes I’ll look at my tray of letters and my mind draws a complete blank. I could have a seven-letter word worth an extra 50 points but my brain locks up and I fail to see what’s right there in front of me.

Occasionally, it’s like that when I work on my novel or other fiction. I’m staring, staring, staring at a paragraph. There’s got to be a better work for X, I think. I stare some more. Surely, it will come to me. BRAIN LOCK!

I tend to obsess over a sentence or a paragraph instead of getting that sh***y first draft on paper. In fact, I’ve gotten into the nasty habit of starting up my computer, opening the file and reading FROM THE BEGINNING before I start writing. Now, I start each new chapter in a different file so I’m not so tempted to obsess about what’s already been written.

Self-doubt, perfectionism, ego… all enemies of the sh***ty first draft. Come on! Let’s toughen up! Put those random thoughts down; don’t fret about complete sentences, perfect punctuation, stilted dialogue, purple prose and the occasional POV shift.

Author Natalie Goldberg writes about the editor/censor being stronger than the writer at times. Maybe a bit of compassion for ourselves could unlock the creative force that’s resisting the constraints we so often put on our writing.

Voices in Your Head Besides Your Own

2009-09-15T11:56:00.000-07:00

Wally Lamb, author of “She’s Come Undone,” writes from the perspective of Dolores, an obese, isolated young woman who attempts suicide during her first semester in college and spends seven years in a mental institution.

There’s a lot more to the book but my point is that Wally is a man, writing from a woman’s perspective about rape, eating disorders, a ticking biological clock and more. Not once when I was reading the book did I think, “This is a guy trying to sound like a woman.” Dolores’ voice rang true throughout.

This brings me to the assumption that writers write what they know. Many beginning writers do because it’s easier to draw from personal experiences when first trying to craft a story. Many start with memoirs because they’ve been comfortable journaling for a large part of their lives – and let’s face it, our childhoods provide a lot of material.

But writers also step into the lives of people completely unlike themselves and tell rich, complex stories from the viewpoint of another sex, race, sexual orientation, age, or species!

One of my novels is about Cissy, a 16-year-old girl in South Mississippi in the late 1960s who shoots her father five times in the back for sexually abusing her for 10 years. I’ve never been to Biloxi. My father didn’t sexually assault me. I’ve never been institutionalized in a state mental hospital.

I hear Cissy’s voice in my head, clearer than most of the voices in my head (kidding). Seriously though, my goal is that Cissy will speak to my readers, that her story will stand on its own and that my contribution is providing a vehicle for her voice.

Eat Bon-Bons for a Living

2009-09-14T14:31:00.000-07:00

I’m a big believer of sending out intentions to the universe and being very specific about what you want. I wanted more time to write, I asked for more time to write, and before I knew it, there was a flurry of gifts from the universe that allowed me to do just that.

“The universe is giving me what I asked for!” I wanted to shout to everyone I knew.

I wasn’t prepared for the lukewarm and sometimes negative responses to my news of going part-time so I could concentrate at least 20-24 hours a week on the novels and other writing. And these responses were from friends!

“In this economy? What are you thinking?!”
“I wish I had that luxury!”
“I wish I didn’t have to work.”

To that last comment, I wrote my friend and said, “I’m not going to be eating bon-bons on my days off. I’m treating this as a real job. I’m going to get up and sit at my desk and write.”

I recently saw a talk by author Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) on TED. If you haven’t seen it, WATCH IT NOW! She speaks to the fear-based reactions that writers often get from friends and family:
Aren’t you afraid you won’t make any money?
Aren’t you afraid you won’t be successful?
Aren’t you afraid the humiliation of rejection will kill you?

Gilbert asks “Is it logical to be afraid of doing the work you were put on this earth to do?”

She’s often asked what she will do if her next book isn’t as successful as Eat, Pray, Love. Gilbert admitted it will likely not be as successful as her “freakish first success.” But she was going to keep getting up each and every day to write because that’s her job.

And that’s what you’ll find me doing on Mondays and Fridays – writing, doing my job, showing up. Although bon-bons do sound pretty good right about now...

Forcing Inspiration

2009-09-12T18:00:00.000-07:00

Since I haven't stated it in earlier blogs, I do marketing and communications work as a remote employee for Goodwill Industries International, which is located in Maryland. I didn’t mention it because work was going to stay separate from my writing life. Yeah, right.

Friday was my first full day off under the new part-time work schedule and I blew it. Thought I’d be up and writing by 7:30 a.m. My mistake was checking my work email ON MY DAY OFF. There were two urgent messages. If I responded I’d be setting a precedent that work could encroach on my writing days. If I didn’t, we’d miss a deadline to submit comments on a joint communications project with a federal government agency.

I caved and did about an hour’s worth of work. Then I got angry. At myself mostly. I convinced myself I was too riled up to work on one of my novels, so I decided to clean the cat box, then vacuum, then clean the kitchen countertops, then pay the bills.

My husband, Andy, said it will take some time to develop a structure for my writing schedule and not to force it.

This afternoon, as Andy watched college football, I curled up in bed with my cat and my laptop. When I finally took a bathroom break, I realized I had been writing for more than two hours.

I guess inspiration can’t be forced into an 8-5 schedule and I didn’t blow it on Friday after all.

Smother the Inner Critic and Listen to the Smart Ones

2009-09-10T13:59:00.000-07:00

I’m my own worst critic. I know that. I’ve always known that. But I’ve devoted a good deal of time nurturing a voice that stifles the critic or at least drowns it out. They really go at it some days:

Critic: You’re not that great a writer.
Champion: You’re a GREAT writer.
Critic: You’ll never make a living at it.
Champion: You can achieve anything you want.
Critic: Get a sensible job.
Champion: Do what you love.

You can see why I feel a bit schizophrenic at times. My goal is to completely smother the critic voice one day but I’m realistic. That voice will always be there. However, I choose to surround myself with people who support me and my dreams without judgment, but who can offer positive criticism on my writing.

During the writer’s retreat I attended in August, I signed up for 30 minutes with a literary agent. She read 10 pages of my novel-in-progress and gave me her first impressions…which weren’t very positive. I didn’t cry, or panic and throw out the novel. I gave myself some time to process the comments and then I emailed my friends for support.

My dear friend Katrina in Mississippi (who regularly reads and critiques my work) wrote back: “F*** her! She’s wrong! Your writing makes me weep! It will find a home somewhere!” Then she calmed down and wrote: "Sometimes critics who have 99% of it wrong have the 1% right that can be pivotal." She’s so smart.

The writing life entails rejection. The trick is to be open to the criticism and not shut down. Let’s ferret out the nuggets of truth that will help us become better at our craft. More importantly, let’s not allow our own fears and judgments to sabotage our efforts.

P.S. Irene, a writer I met at the retreat, said she places her rejection letters in a file titled “Not Yet.” What a great outlook to have.