From Whence it Comes - IWSG May 2023

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: Joylene Nowell Butler, Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Meka James, Diane Burton, Victoria Marie Lees, and M Louise Barbour.

This month's optional question: When you are working on a story, what inspires you?

The former owners of our home used to dump trash on the property. When we cleaned up the yard, my husband discovered a couple of antique glass bottles, pre-twist top. I cleaned them out, put them on my windowsill and used them as a bud vases. One day when trying to jog my creative juices, I wrote a scene I posted in Middle Passages about a woman with three similar bottles. Then came the questions. Who was the woman? What was the significance of the bottles? The story changed radically, but that scene triggered my first attempt at a novel.

Anything can inspire. Back in the late 1800’s in my hometown, an eccentric man built a kind of amusement park on his 800-acre estate. His “folly” featured a hotel, a “pirate’s grotto,” a bear pit, a crystal palace, a monkey house, and a camera obscura. There was a water tower with a mammoth statue of Poseidon. He dammed up a stream and made his own lake. The property featured mechanical jokes as well as progressive ideas. At one exhibit guests were invited to drink “Laughing Water” and after they did, the floor would tilt to make them feel drunk. He maintained a fastidious “piggery” with the innovative thought that taking care of the animals used for food would make for healthier eating.

Years later, the property was sold, parceled off and developed. Growing up, kids I knew who lived in the area talked about fishing in the lake and playing in the woods around the ruins of the old grotto, but I never experienced any of it. From my side of town, unless you lived in or visited one of those houses, the land and pond were physically inaccessible. But they weren’t inaccessible to my imagination. I used a fictionalized version of the ruins of that old estate in one of my books. 

More inspiration? A family at our church arranged for a memorial service honoring the passengers of an Irish immigrant ship who perished in wreck off the coast of our town in 1849. Once the service became an annual event, I did some research. Newspaper articles written about the tragedy listed ninety-nine official passengers on the ship manifest (the maximum allowed) but according to witnesses, as many as twenty off-the-record and nameless passengers traveled also. Twelve passengers survived the wreck. Forty-four people are buried in an unmarked grave in our Central Cemetery. (A marker was raised in their memory later.) Other victims were buried up and down the coast. I was haunted by the idea of the unregistered victims whose names were never reported. Would their families have ever known what happened to them? I wove the angst of unknowing into an unreliable character, threw in a missing child with correlations related to 150+ year old Irish shipwreck and it all came together in one of my novels.

Inspiration comes from anything. Trash, history, church, or simply walking down the street. All it takes is imagination.

What inspires your best writing?

Number Four, Saved from the Drawer - IWSG April 2023

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: Jemima Pett, Nancy Gideon, and Natalie Aguirre.

April’s optional question: Do you remember writing your first book? What were your thoughts about a career path on writing? Where are you now and how is it working out for you? If you're at the start of the journey, what are your goals?

An author with whom I am acquainted once wrote that she kept working on her first novel because after all her effort, she “didn’t want it to end up in the drawer.” Persistence paid off. Her first novel was published to much acclaim.

As I’ve written here previously, my first attempt at a novel occurred ages ago, after I completed the lessons in The Artist’s Way, A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, by Julia Cameron. While I was proud to finish a draft, I had zero clue how to edit my initial mess. That dilemma led me to take a Grub Street writing class, which inspired me to join a writing group. I took more classes, started another novel, joined a different writing group and completed two more novels. Somewhere along the line I came to believe that my first unfortunate attempt had been lost due to a corrupt thumb drive.

That brings us to two summers ago when I was struggling. I’d managed to get myself writing again after losing my sweet Tim, but for the most part all I’d been doing was completing these blog posts and editing (again!) my two most recent novels. That lasted until I queried them a bit more and ran out of gas.

I had (and still have) no desire to begin writing another novel from scratch, but that summer I was pawing through some files looking for something and I found a printout of that awful first draft from years ago in my desk drawer. It had been beside me all along.

Thankfully, the thing was as much as mess as I remembered because it offered a challenge when I needed one most. Almost two years and several drafts in, I no longer shudder to read it.

So, do I remember my first novel? Well, yes. Technically, my first novel is now my fourth. I worked on it this just morning, ever so grateful to have pulled it out of the drawer.

What was your first book like? Was it published?

Enduring Lessons - IWSG March 2023

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to the co-hosts for the March posting of the IWSG: Diedre Knight, Tonya Drecker, Bish Denham, Olga Godim, and JQ Rose.

This month’s optional question: Have you ever read a line in novel or a clever plot twist that caused you to have author envy? 

My quick answer? Yes. I’ve devoted quite a few posts here to works that have made me say, “Boy, I wish I wrote that!” but rather than going back and rehashing them, I thought I’d spend this one talking about an author who has awed me for a different reason.

In high school, I took a class called “History through Literature” during which we read historical fiction set in formulative eras. During class, we discussed the real life events that provided the framework for the novels. Even now, books from that course stand out in my mind. All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque, Night, by Elie Wiesel, Désirée by Annemarie Selinko, The Great Hunger, by Cecil Woodham-Smith and Tai Pan, by James Clavell.

The taped-up copy of the last one, an “epic” novel written in 1966 about the founding of Hong Kong , has been sitting on my bookshelf since high school. (No, I wasn't in high school in 1966!) Last week when the novel I’d wanted to download from my library wasn’t available, I pulled Tai Pan off the shelf again. At over 700 pages, reading it is a commitment. Frankly, it’s been so long since I’ve touched it I’ve forgotten more than I remember, and what impresses me this time is the way Clavell wrote with such authority about the English and Asian cultures of the mid-nineteenth century.

I can understand why Mr. Burgess, our history teacher, made this required reading. Apparently it took the author two years to research and write what ultimately became Tai Pan. In my mind, I am thinking two years would be a blink to create the complexity and nuance that flows through the story. He was either a genius or for those two years, writing must have been a one hundred percent full-time occupation. Probably both. He wrote with such clarity and depth about the financial and political impact of the English sea trade, (opium for tea and silks,) and about two distinctly different cultures, both of whom believed the other to be barbarians. The storyline involves pirates, romance, intrigue and betrayal, but beyond the entertainment value, reading it reminds me of something. What a person believes based on how they were raised may be diametrically opposed to the beliefs of those from a different culture, but that’s not to say they can’t learn from each other. 

Reading the book now, I have to make some exceptions for behaviors in the novel appropriate to nineteenth century standards and offered via a 1960’s slant. But even through a 2023 lens, Tai Pan imparts lessons that matter, even after 50+ years in print.

Way to go, Mr. Burgess!

What book(s) from high school made a lasting impact on you?

In Like Again - IWSG February 2023

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to the co-hosts for February: Jacqui Murray, Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Pat Garcia, and Gwen Gardner.

For years, five days a week I’ve made it my practice to get up an hour early and eat breakfast, then set a timer and write  before work. While I’m proud to have maintained this schedule, complacency crept in. Five hours a week. That's enough, right?

Back in the day, I'd do whatever I could to find writing time beyond those scheduled mornings, but over the last two years my eagerness faded. I was going through the motions, snail-crawling along on my current project, feeling less than enthused.

Late this past autumn, I told a writer friend about my lack of inspiration. She suggested things might improve if I add a little more writing time to my schedule. “It will help you keep in touch with your story,” she said.

Time for a palm-slap to the forehead. How long had it been since I'd even tried to write more?

With my friend's advice at the forefront, I pushed myself to sit down at the computer after work the following afternoon, and the good news is I only had to push myself once.

That first time I wrote outside of my schedule, my story drew me right in. Three hours later I looked up blinking. It felt so good, I found myself writing on the weekend again and sometimes after work. I can’t say I wrote extra every day, but enough so I found myself awake in the middle of the night, playing “what if” with my characters, figuring out their motivations, backfilling gaps. As is often the case, the more effort one puts in the more successful one becomes. Now due to this extra focus, I’ve got a completed draft. It still needs an enormous amount of work, but finally it’s got some flow.

Lesson learned. I recite this mantra in my head now: If you do what you like, you’ll like what you do.

It feels good to be back on that page.

What do you do when you lose your motivation to write?

What's in a Word? IWSG January 2023

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: Jemima Pett, Debs Carey, Kim Lajevardi, Sarah Foster, Natalie Aguirre, and T. Powell Coltrin.

January 4 question - Do you have a word of the year? Is there one word that sums up what you need to work on or change in the coming year?

The fear of over-promising and under-delivering means I’m not keen on resolutions. The first word to hit me was “complete” because I want to get done already with my current project. As a goal, it’s achievable. I finally figured out the backstory and motivation for one of my primary characters, the lack of which was making the story one dimensional. I’m pretty sure I can plug that in and get myself to the finish line of a decent draft soon, so maybe “complete” as a word for the year isn’t challenging enough.

Perhaps the word could be “decide.”

While still working at the job I’ve had for 11 years, I’ve qualified to retire a bit early with my little pension and lifetime medical insurance intact. While it’s nice to know I can go when I want, I worry I’ll fall into a slump if I don’t have a reason to get up five days a week. When you’ve been a part of a couple for thirty-five years and then you’re not, it takes time figure out how to navigate alone. Throw in two years of Covid isolation and you can understand why I may be behind the curve. I’m still trying to discover who I am without my wingman. Work offers a steadying influence. 

That said, I envy my retired friends who can do things on their own schedules. One is taking a trip to Australia. Another takes a pottery class. A third loves her poetry group and travels when she wants. Yet another friend has begun a photography business. She shoots and sells the most stunning pictures. I’d like to accompany her a time or two. 

While scary, when I decide to retire, I think I’ll find the time to explore things that bring me closer to the next iteration of me. 

Huh. It's official. 

My word of the year will be “onward.”

Happy New Year to all.

Back to the Essence - IWSG December 2022

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of  Alex Cavanaugh.  To find other contributors, click here. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: Joylene Nowell Butler, Chemist Ken, Natalie Aguirre, Nancy Gideon, and Cathrina Constantine!

No optional question for me this month, instead, you get a story.

I’ve mentioned earlier that my current writing project is not going fast, or easily, or well.

Now, pack that thought into a cupboard for a bit as I share the following.

As a teen, I spent two summers working and living in a country inn in New Hampshire where I made friendships I still treasure. That first summer, I met “K.” a writer who’d already published a memoir by the time I arrived on the scene. My autographed copy retains pride of place on my bookshelf.

As time went by in those pre-internet, pre-email, pre-just-about-anything-technological years, Christmas communications included long letters. Cards from K. and his wife contained essays he’d written about their young son and how as a dad, he learned life lessons while fielding his inquisitive boy’s direct questions. The stories were always sweet, sometimes whimsical, mostly funny, and if he compiled them into a collection, a suitable title might be, Parenting is Not for Sissies.

Fast forward to few years ago. Our major daily publishes a Sunday magazine section featuring a personal essay on the last page. Ages ago one of my own essays was featured, so each week I read it with interest to gauge the quality of the writing. One Sunday, I was drawn into a lovely piece and before long found the voice so familiar, I stopped mid-read to search for the byline. Sure enough, it was written by K.

Last week, K. emailed me that he would have another essay published in the upcoming Sunday supplement. When the day arrived, I made myself read the news methodically, savoring the anticipation of what I would find at the end. It didn’t disappoint. His essay about overcoming nerves while taking flight beside his son, a newly licensed pilot, made me wince, chuckle, and ponder a universal truth. It never feels like our adult children are grown up until they prove us wrong. I read it again and again.

So where am I going with this?

Well, the thing of it is, I’m not feeling great about my fourth attempt at a publishable novel. For months, I’ve been trudging up a mountain of slog, trying to develop one of my characters which is changing everything I’ve spent the last year-and-a-half writing. For the first time ever, I'm allowing myself to procrastinate (writing blog posts helps with that), and worse, can picture not finishing. But shortly after reading the piece by my old NH friend, I was inspired to sit in front of my computer and bang out my own story, about not hosting Thanksgiving for the first time in thirty years. How the holiday I’d expected to feel strange and altered turned into a memory I will savor.

Like K. I used real life examples and wrote from the heart. For the first time in a while, my fingers flew to catch up with my thoughts and when I was done, I felt that dopamine buzz that let me know I’d done something good.

I walked away from the computer with a six-hundred-word piece and a big fat reminder that what I love about writing is just that. The writing. No matter how unforgiving the slog, they can’t take that away from me.

How it is Now - IWSG November 2022.

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of the amazing and generous  Alex Cavanaugh. To find links to other monthly contributors, click here.  Thank you to November co-hosts: Diedre Knight, Douglas Thomas Greening, Nick Wilford, and Diane Burton!

The writing hasn’t been kind to me lately. Back in the day when I felt stuck, I took an artist’s date which I learned to do while completing the lessons in The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. The writer suggests taking regular time-outs from your "art" to pursue an activity that might spur creativity. For me, that usually involved going on a walk with a camera. I’d click images of scenes around the area I love so much, then go home and write about something I'd photographed. Once I wrote a vignette about a house blurred by fog and it ended up inspiring my third novel.

But because of life (and cell phones), I haven’t taken a walk with my actual camera in a long time. When I took it out of the cupboard recently, the last photo on the memory card was from 2019.

A few days later, I took a ride down to the harbor with the camera in the passenger seat, just to see how it felt. In truth, it felt weird. Who uses an actual camera now, anyway? But really the issue was something bigger. I didn’t grow up near the ocean. After almost 40 years of living by the sea, I’m still in awe of  my surroundings but as in every other realm of my life these days, there's something missing. 

Before two years ago, my walking habit was to keep my eyes open and frame picture after picture trying to capture the essence of what made me feel so joyful. These days though, what used to feel fun is hard work. Nevertheless, as flat as I felt that afternoon at the harbor, I was there. The egrets were, too. My heart wasn't in it much, but it gave me a little peace when I got home and downloaded the pictures to find my eyes still work.