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How writers become published authors: An evening with Ellen Baker

May 25, 2010

by Julie Saffrin

I had the privilege to meet Ellen Baker, author of “Keeping the House” at friend Jackie Anderson’s house. We gathered there for our book club’s May meeting. As Baker portrays in essays and correspondence on her Web site (www.ellenbakernovels.com), she has a sweet demeanor. She is an author who doesn’t touch the glory of her massive abilities and is all the more likeable because of it.

Our group of twelve had many questions for Baker about her American saga, sweeping in scope and generational relationships involved in World War I and II. We enjoyed hearing Baker’s thoughts on what most likely happened to the characters were she to write a sequel, which she does not plan to do.

But as a writer, I enjoyed hearing the back story of her journey to becoming a published author. I appreciated and benefited from her candor about her process. Here’s what I learned.

Getting the story right means hard work. When Baker worked at J. W. Beecroft Books & Coffee, a now-defunct coffee shop and bookstore in Superior, Wisc., she told herself she wanted to write a novel equal in composition to ones displayed on shelves. I think she accomplished her goal of deserving shelf space in an epic way. To do so, she worked at a historical museum, the Richard I. Bong World War II Heritage Center, to get the endless details right and interviewed many veterans. Readers get a true historical glimpse of war heroes and how difficult were those times. Her tale is an honest portrayal of the strains families put on sons who became soldiers and sons, because of the years they were born, who did not. Reading her story, rationing is understood. I got a kick out of young women drawing seams on the backs of their legs to depict seamed stockings.

Getting the story right takes a long time and means taking criticism and instruction and putting it into action. Baker first wrote about the Mickelsons, the characters in her book, back in 1996. But “it’s a long, long way from here to where we go,” as Beth Nielson Chapman sings. She started “Keeping the House” in 2003, and the Mickelsons became a part of the book. Baker’s road to publication involved plot adjustments and character changes and removing “darlings,” (an entire handwritten notebook of a part of the book didn’t make it into the final edition), to create an excellent novel. She added Dolly Magnuson, the twenty-something protagonist Baker plopped Dolly into a 1950 Lutheran church’s sewing group of middle-aged women. Dolly’s struggle for and against traditional housekeeping roles as well as her driving desire to receive value in life from her husband make the novel one in which many women can relate. Dolly’s world is a nice addition to this multi-hued gem of a novel.

Other changes came after Baker went to the Bear River Writers’ Conference on Walloon Lake, made famous by Ernest Hemingway. Attending the conference connected her to other writers who gave feedback on “Keeping the House.” She listened to their wise counsel and made their suggested changes, one of which included the addition of Mrs. Fryt (who is the judgmental standard bearer for what a woman should be and do when leading the Ladies Aid Society in 1950).

Baker finished “Keeping the House” in 2006. Only then did she solicit agents she thought fit her genre. Marly Rusoff became her agent and sold her book to Random House, which published “Keeping the House” in 2008.

Usually author accounts of post-contract details goes strangely quiet, but Baker openly shared her story of working with an editor and that was a big reason why I found Baker’s talk to our book club refreshing. She shared the work she did to make her book a great one. Baker did multiple rewrites even after the book sold. Her editor asked for a “little less trombone” to make the novel a perfect orchestration.

Getting the story right involves outlines. Baker outlines after, not before, she writes. She types her outlines and “cuts them in strips” and asks herself, “Could this scene go here instead?” Her reasoning for doing this is for her readers. “I need to keep the reader reading,” she said. So if moving plots and scenes to other chapters tightens and cranks the pace, then Baker moves them. She also works in layers each time she goes through her manuscript, concentrating on each layer separately, such as scene or dialogue, as she rewrites.

Getting the story right means being a committed writer. Baker generally writes for five hours each day. “I go to bed thinking about my work and I think my subconscious works while I sleep,” she said. She does her best work in the morning when she awakens. “I don’t allow myself to look at anything. I’ll just go straight to my computer and write what’s on my mind,” she said. She produces from three to eight pages daily.

Baker made me think about marriage and be grateful that some of its past hierarchies and roles have changed and there now is budge room in it. For younger readers, Baker realistically portrays not only how much dependence women put on men, but also she delves into the pressures men faced in choosing and being chosen to be the go-to guys, both in patriarchal relationships and as defenders of our country. The felt weight for both sexes crushes at times in this book.

Baker has just completed edits on her second novel, “The Work of a Woman,” another story that promises depth in relationships and plot. It is a story about women working in the shipyards on Lake Superior’s shores and their complex stories. The book releases in summer 2011. She rewrote the novel seven times to get it right. When her editor received the last rewrite, she told Baker the book moved from being “great” to being “phenomenal.”

I cannot wait to read it.

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By julie – May 31, 2010

a life, satisfied

April 12, 2010

a life, satisfied

by Julie Saffrin

The upstairs of my house is in chaos and I am in a tizzy too. I’m getting carpet installed today and tomorrow, but I’ve discovered in the process of moving furniture and displacing my belongings into other rooms that I’m not as easily adaptable to change as I once was. This morning I had my glasses. Where did I put them after I upended the bed and moved the nightstand? Not only can I not get in my new office, but once the two finished rooms are carpeted this afternoon, I will need to move all the contents of the crammed rooms onto the freshly laid carpet.

My disrupted life is nothing compared to my friend, Sue, and her family’s life. When she and I last talked three weeks ago, I learned her mother Barb was in kidney failure and couldn’t receive dialysis because of her heart condition. Today, Barb is on oxygen and hospice nurses are making Sue’s parents’ back door a revolving one.

As I prayed while lying in bed last night for the family, my grumpiness about my chaos was soothed when I thought of Barb. I’m not sure she likes change all that much either; or maybe, it’s that she’s learned to live a satisfied life. She told me so several weeks ago when I dropped a meal by. “I’ve lived a full life, Julie,” she said, sitting on her couch. “I’m ready to go to Heaven. I just know it will be hard for everyone I leave behind.”

Satisfy. Satis for enough. Facere, for to do. To do enough or enough to do. Either way the meaning speaks of Barb’s life. To fulfill, to meet expectation of. She knows leaving here she will be healed, be whole and be in the Holy Presence of God. She will be satisfied. She also knows that in her life, she has done enough. In the historical account of Jesus visiting Martha’s home in Luke 10, Martha is in the kitchen making a seven-course meal for her 16 guests while her sister Mary is seated near Jesus and feasting on His every word. Martha is frustrated because she is doing all the work. Verse 10:42 records Jesus as saying to Martha, “Only one thing is needed.” I was at a women’s retreat recently where Elizabeth Murphy, the speaker, broke down the word busyness using the Chinese language. Two characters make up busyness; kill and soul. I think Barb has known for a long time what and Who satisfies her soul.

When I handed Ted the meal and looked around the house, down two doors from where I grew up, my heart warmed. For you see, I had walked into the sweet memories of my childhood. The copper clock still keeps perfect time, as it has for 50 years, above the kitchen table. Its black and red balls depict the hours of the day. I think to myself that soon Barb will change time zones and move from chronos or clock time, to kairos, God’s time. I feel selfish wanting her to be healed here, in chronos time, but I am not the clock keeper for this kind of time and must make the most of my last visit with Barb. “Man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time,” C. S. Lewis wrote in The Screwtape Letters. “It all comes to him by pure gift.”

As a kid you think neighboring families live like you do, but they don’t. To this day, when I look at their kitchen table I remember being asked for supper. My bland-diet stomach screamed in revolt when I was served liver and onions in their Polish home. But I was raised with manners and was a member of the Clean Plate Club so I downed one bite; another would have caused me to get sick in a most unmannerly way.

The brown linoleum with intermittent cream and orange streaks is still the same and looks like it couldn’t be a day over five years old and could serve another 45 years, even though it’s as old as the clock. It was cared for by someone who knew how to take care of what she owned. The living room still has the couch with its back against the front windows. All that’s missing is the window air-conditioner, long since replaced with central air.

Many happy times occurred in Barb and Ted’s finished basement where Sue and her sister Nancy hosted slumber parties for the 88th Street Pussycats. Our group was made up of Sue, Sherry, Cindy and Cheryl and me. We’d play pool and then talk all night in our baby-doll pajamas about boys. I think it’s OK to admit now that I was a party to having called Country Club Market more than once to ask if they had Prince Albert in a can then they should let him out.

Sue’s dad’s office was under the staircase. Ted worked for Smith-Corona and on the side repaired typewriters. He repaired two of my Selectrics that have since gone to their graves. Every once in a while we snuck back there to look at the workbench filled with ribbon, keys and rollers. It smelled of ink and seemed a magical place.

Their asphalt driveway was the flattest in the neighborhood. We played hours of hopscotch and I learned how to double jump-rope while my friends twirled and twirled until I finally got it.

Sue and I held a funeral on that driveway. I intentionally stomped a daddy long leg crawling along the tar’s edge. I felt so bad about killing one of God’s creatures that we held a funeral for it. Sue dug a hole and I made a cross of tiny twigs. We sang a song of lament though I don’t remember what.

As I wait and pray, my heart breaks for the family. Even if you are a person of faith like I am, who believes in a womb home, a passing home (earth) and an eternal home (Heaven), what makes saying good-bye so hard is that the separation from our loved ones feels so permanent, the road so long to get there to join them. The hospice nurse told Sue yesterday, “Death is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to deal with.” I agree. Even though my dad is in Heaven and someday I will join him, these nine years have been a long wait and while I know he is free of Alzheimer’s, getting free meant he had to leave this passing home too.

My visit with Barb was just after she came home from the hospital. I sat on her couch next to her and could not stop looking at her stunning blue-gray eyes. They had changed in brightness and color since the last time I saw her. They seemed to radiate a new outlook, a future I could not yet see and with it, a wisdom and peace to face it.

I will miss this sweet lady but I will take with me her lesson: To live a satisfied life. Even in the middle of chaos.

Posted in Death and dying, Family, Personal, friendship.

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By julie – April 12, 2010

Day 2 My notes from “Agents & Editors Read the Slush Pile” at Northern Colorado Writer’s Conference

“Press on. Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.” — Ray Kroc, founder of 10 billion served

More than 20 brave people tossed their manuscripts’ full first page into the “Agents & Editors Read the Slush Pile” session on March 27 at the fifth annual Northern Colorado Writer’s Conference in Ft. Collins. Ken Sherman, Rachelle Gardner, Ben Barnhart and Joe Monti were the panelists.

Not having an entry, I volunteered to be the timekeeper for the session which garnered me a front-row seat. The rules were that each entry could be one full page long. A reader was to read the whole page unless a panel member said, “Stop.” “Stop” meant one or more panel member lost interest in hearing more of that entry’s story.

I know. Enough to make you want to hurl, but most entries made it through to the end. Unfortunately though, most entries did not get a “I would like to read more” response from the panel. The handful who did hustled to the front of the room once the session ended.

As writers, we think we hear what needs to be changed to make our story work. We go home and slog at it again, only to hear at another critique group, another conference, that the story is still not right.

image by The Creative Pen, flickr cc

We’re told to start our story with a scene but not to put anything into that scene that doesn’t need to be there. We try, only to be told “stop.”

“The journey of art is a million miles but what’s important is the last inch,” someone once wrote. That journey is not as simple as Mr. Inchworm makes it seem. I don’t know about you, but I have an “Outtakes” folder in MS Word for those darlings I removed and hope to use elsewhere. Of course I won’t use them. They will remain outtakes. But that’s OK. They helped get me to the right words and for them, I am grateful. They were not wasted words. They were my over-and-out words. I have to get over them to get them out of the manuscript.

Writing is that painful life-choice where our efforts are not just seen by our boss or for the company for whom we work but by the world. For my fellow attendees who heard “stop,” press on. Every word you send to your outtakes folder, is one word nearer to an agent’s In Box. I love how Cecil Murphey, author of more than 100 books puts it: “This is the best I can do at this stage of my development.”

“It’s kind of fun to do the impossible.” — Walt Disney (1901 to 1966)

For those of you whom I met who were given the go-ahead sign to send in your manuscript to agents. Congratulations. I hope you’ll blog about your journey to publication.

Here are my brief take-aways from the panel members.

Start your story with a scene.

Watch halting sentences.

Watch adjective/adverbs – skinny your manuscript down.

Watch when you put in unnecessary details.

Watch protagonist’s directions. Make them be in action.

You don’t need to say “Jerry thought.” Readers know what their protagonists are saying.

Watch the flow of your manuscript – watch for long sentences and shorten them.

Non-fiction. When writing non-fiction, watch to not report but instead try to write dramatic scenes into your narratives.

Picture books – Seventy-five percent of picture books are the pictures. Your writing needs to set up those pictures.

Prologues – They are difficult to make work; first-time authors seem to especially have a hard time with them.

 I like being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork.” — Peter DeVries

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By julie – April 6, 2010

Day 2 from the Northern Colorado Writers Conference. My notes from “Hopping onto your Time Machine – Writing Memoir that Matters” by John Calderazzo

April 6, 2010

“Stories are for those late hours in the night when you wonder how you got from where you were to where you are now. Stories are for directing the past to the future.” —Tim O’Brien

Have you ever listened to a speaker who seemed to be talking about ideas and concepts you believe in to the depth of your soul?  I don’t have a twin, but when I walked into John Calderazzo’s “Hopping onto your Time Machine” session at the fifth annual Northern Colorado Writer’s Conference in Ft. Collins, I felt as though I had bumped into myself, figuratively speaking.

I am writing a book about giving BlessBacks. A BlessBackTM is a created word meant to act as a signpost, a reminder, a memo to self, to give a kind word or do a kind act to someone from one’s past. When the book comes out in February 2012, my hope is that by reading it readers discover the life-changing benefits of thanking their life-influencers and find courage to journey to their past to give thanks there. So when Calderazzo, who teaches at Colorado State University, mentioned the word “memento,” I was all ears.

Calderazzo defined memento as a keepsake, an object that recalls memory. He asked if anyone in the room had a memento with them. Many raised their hands. One woman said she was wearing her deceased mother’s wedding ring. She wears it on occasions where she thinks her mother would approve of her doing something for herself. The woman next to me wore a fleece jacket from a blood center. She wears it to remind her of the life-giving platelets she gave to a person with leukemia and how she changed another’s life by giving blood. Another displayed his heart-shaped tattoo which he had inked onto his skin after a massive heart attack. The tattoo is a daily reminder of the importance of life. Another wore a Celtic cross as a reminder of life’s never-ending circle.

“The world is full of wonderful things and it’s up to us to tell the stories,” Calderazzo told the room filled with writers. “They are awe-inspiring. They touch us.”

With the mementos we carry, we literally are carrying important stories with us, he said. He asked us to think of a memento we either had with us or one that we have at home and to write it down and explore on paper why we keep it and why the memento serves as a reminder of a place or person attributed to that memento.

I wrote about a small glass container I keep on my barrister’s bookcase in my office. It is filled with dried rose petals that came from a rose spray on my father’s casket. I save them because they were the closest thing to him before he was buried.

The petals, in their current state, rustle when you swirl them with your finger. Dad would not have liked that. He never wanted to be the center of attention. But the petals before they dried, velvety and soft, remind me of my soft-hearted father. My father was a humble man; he never had need for self-aggrandizement. He lived a simple life. His contentment was that his life was a testament to the Servant he served.

The rose fragrance permeates my soul; they remind me to try to live my life in a kindhearted way too.

Tim O’Brien, author of many brilliant books, wrote “The Things They Carry.” Calderazzo asked those of in attendance what were the things we carry with us, into our future. “Use memory to write about how it changes your now and takes you into your future,” Calderazzo said.

A woman raised her hand. “But how do you go to the future now?”

To clarify, Calderazzo talked about Maxine Hong Kingston being stuck in two cultures; her day life, where she attended Berkeley and at day’s end, when she arrived home and “went back a century.” Hong Kingston wrote “The Woman Warrior,” a story on which the movie “Mulan” was based. “By writing that book, she went into her future to break the feminist prohibitions of ancient China,” Calderazzo said. “It was about who she’s going to be going forward.”

“I think it’s about [her] owning the past in order to go into the future,” said one woman in the class who works with those in addiction recovery.

Calderazzo ended the session by reading “Remembering Marilyn French,” a tribute to his former English professor. He had no idea I was writing a book about BlessBacks, but his was one of the sweetest I’ve heard and I hope he will allow me to use it for my compilation of BlessBack stories.

Thank you, John Calderazzo, for a wonderful session. Though I was 700 miles from my house, you made me feel at home in my soul.

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By julie – April 6, 2010

Attending a writer’s conference with a get-and-give attitude

Monday, March 29, 2010

The Northern Colorado Writers Conference was held March 26 to 28 with more than 250 in attendance. I went with the mindset to not only get something from the conference but also to give.

I traveled to Ft. Collins and listened to keynote speakers and attended interactive lectures with editors and agents. Just before the conference started, my friend and fellow writer Barbara Marshak and I met two women writers, Triffany and Melissa, both non-fiction writers and one of whom would pitch during the conference. We exchanged business cards and encouraged each other. That brief meeting seemed to set the tone of both conference writers and speakers. At each session I attended, I found the speakers to be real and approachable after their sessions. What a refreshing conference to find egos were not on display. I’d love to hear your thoughts on your experience on attending writer’s conferences too and if being intentional in having a positive mental outlook throughout the conference has been of benefit.

Here are my notes from the conference from keynote speaker Stephen Cannell on Day 1:

Stephen Cannell

About agents:

Stephen Cannell (of The Rockford Files, The A-Team, 21 Jump Street and many other TV shows) asked writers to think out of an agent’s head and ask themselves, “Why would he or she want to represent me?” Cannell never asked an agent to represent him. He used a backdoor strategy and asked the agent, “I’ve been reading who you represent and they are amazing. I’m not asking you to represent me, but I wondered if you could look at the first 15 pages and see if I’m on the right track and you can see ways I can improve my project.”

He feels agents want to hear that they are revered and cared about in the community. “Be considerate. You’ll short-circuit the agent-search process,” he said. “Treat an agent like a person; treat an agent like a friend. Make it so easy for them to say yes.”

I attended “Selling your book to film and television stage producers,” a session by Ken Sherman, of Hollywood, who handles book, television and film writers and he echoed Cannell’s advice. “Queries are a waste of time,” he said. “Instead say ‘Here are the first five pages of my novel. I hope you like them.’” Sherman thinks writers need to be thick-skinned. “Be fearless. Go for it,” he said. 

About becoming successful:

Cannell: “You will be able to find success but you’ll have to work very, very hard.”

“As you start to pick up energy, remember sugar always works better than vinegar. There should be no brow-beating.”

 About embracing failure:

Cannell was humble as he shared his struggles with failure. “I failed the first, fourth and tenth grade because I was severely dyslexic,” Cannell said. Later, at a Q & A, an audience member asked Cannell if he had had any failures. Cannell said, “Pick a decade.”

“Embrace failure, it’s so important,” he said. “Failure is part of the game. If you’re afraid of failure, you’re going to be destroyed.” He shared with the crowd that in the mid-80s he had six TV shows. Then, on a black Friday, it was “all over in one day.” At the end of the day, he had 2,100 employees and one show on the air. He went home and took the weekend to intentionally not react. On Monday, NBC then-president Brandon Tartikoff called him and said, “Tough day on Friday, huh?” Cannell said, “No, I lost a son; that was much worse.” Tartikoff then said, “Book an NBC replacement show for next season.” Jeff Sagansky, network president for CBS also called that morning.  “Put a CBS show on your books next season.”

“It’s how you behave, in a strange way, that defines you, to not react in anger,” Cannell told the crowd. “I thought I was going to have to fold the studio. But these executives showed up for me in a time of need.”

About critique groups:

An audience member asked Cannell, who has 22 writers under contract with whom he interacts on a daily basis, if he was in a critique group. He was gracious in his response. “No…I like doing it alone, pawing it alone,” he said.

About giving hints in your whodunit stories:

Cannell: “Get as close as you can with telegraphing without telegraphing.”

About being honest with your peers:

I told Tom Selleck ‘I owe you my best opinion.’”

On letting characters run away with the story.

Cannell quoted a humorous response from fellow screen writer when she was asked about characters running away with the story. “Her response was ‘If they do, I shoot the sons of b—es.’”

After Cannell’s keynote, he gave each attendee his newest Shane Scully release, “The Pallbearers” and autographed books. I appreciated Cannell’s candor and sincerity. By the audience’s reaction and questions, I think they did too. Thank you, Mr. Cannell, for getting this conference off to a great start.

 

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By julie – April 3, 2010

American Idol: Where Underdogs Get a Cape

January 15, 2010

My husband and I had our first American Idol premiere party on Tuesday, January 12 at our home. We invited faithful AI watchers and some who had never watched the show. It was a great excuse to forget about long Minnesota winters and to get together mid-week. As Sue Reid, one of the attendees said, “I love doing this. It feels like we’re getting away with playing in the middle of the week.”

Sue and I have talked about forming a fantasy football-type competition where we pick our choices for the top 12 and then the winner. Might need to have my accountant husband work up that chart.

I’ve watched AI for five years now and have tossed around what makes the show a No. 1 hit. I think there are a couple of factors involved. Here’s my two-cents’ worth.

  1. Simon Cowell. He conjures up thoughts of the lyrics to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.” He’s mean, he doesn’t emote and we beg for more because of his repartee. This week a contestant told the judges that he wanted to be like an eagle’s wing and make people soar when they listened to his music. Simon said to the fellow that his singing voice sounded “more like an eagle” than making people feel like they would soar.
  2. Superman had kryptonite, but most contestants on American Idol have no way to make a demo and get heard by a record company. American Idol changed that. If you can get to an audition, you will be heard. I love that underdogs have the opportunity to get a cape.
  3. American Idol unites us. We who watch are our own community. When we watch AI, all politics, social status and religions are put aside. We’re here on our couches ready to champion on, with our cell phone hands held high, ready to vote our favorite contestant through to the next week. The show doesn’t divide us, doesn’t do harm to our country. No one wins because his party does a better job of persuading. There are no political protests. Contestants cannot buy their way in. The show is free and clear of the things we carry with us too much of the time. For an hour or two each week we escape from our realities and get “to play.”

 Fellow watchers, here’s to community, here’s to Mr. Bad Romance. Let the chase for the cape begin.

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By julie – January 15, 2010

2009: The Year of the Book Contract

January 13, 2010

I think Jodi Hills is a wonderful artist. She puts her quotes on her paintings and sells them. They are beautiful and their words evoke feeling. Sometimes I feel euphoric, sometimes I feel sad, but always my emotions become active when I read her words. Right now I am looking at her words as they lay next to my computer:

Realizing how much this dream could change her life, her life already started to change. The power of possibility.

jodi hills

I bought that greeting card at the beginning of 2009 when I proclaimed 2009 as The Year of the Book Contract. That card gave me courage to write and forward march to make my dream become real.

That dream was made real yesterday. I signed my first book contract. “BlessBackTM” will be published in 2012 with Journey Press. The non-fiction book is about the power found in blessing others.

The journey to publication has been anything but a solo accomplishment. It is the result of perseverance to be sure, but it also the result of the Divine putting me into situations to listen and tell other people’s incredible adventures. Some of those who have inspired me are long dead; their published works have touched me. Charles Dickens, Eleanor Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, to be sure.

Then there are those still living. About 13 years ago, Jan Karon, the author of The Mitford series, came to Minnesota. I brought two friends with me to hear her talk in Faribault. In order to get into the event, one had to bring a homemade pie. I made a blueberry pie and went. Her talk inspired me. Afterwards I went to where she signed autographs and asked if she had any inspiring words for me, a writer 25 pages deep into her first book. She asked my name, set her pen down, leaned back, and did a serious stare-down to me. “I do,” she said, “but I don’t know if you’ll take them.”

I promised that I would. “Julie, never, ever give up,” she said. I didn’t know at the time she was quoting Winston Churchill, another motivator.

I took her words to heart. Went to writing conferences, started freelancing, finished a novel, and got a journalism degree, all to learn to write so I could eventually become a published author.

If you too are a wannabe writer, take Jan’s advice. Never, ever give up. Your soul will sing as you pursue your dream.

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By julie – January 15, 2010

Green Sleeves

Autumn 2009IMG_2220

Green Sleeves

Nothing unusual about snow in Minnesota. It heaps itself upon us every year. But up north outside my cabin today, a rarity occurred. Three inches’ worth, with a fourth predicted, accumulated on my green lawn in early October.

I had never seen snow invade summer’s territory. Seemed like reaching over your neighbor’s fence to steal flowers.

White globs settled on the oaks’ green leaves. Red sumacs had dollops of whipped cream atop them. I went outside with my camera to try to grasp the phenomenon but it had trouble finding a focal point. Should it focus on the white dusting of hoar’s frost on the evergreens, the green lawn in front of them or the two oaks in ochre above?

Put grass, red, green and yellow leaves together and you have autumn. Frost it with white and sit underneath a tree and watch the greens slough their heavy sleeves. Listen as branches release the wet weight and make an instant shower. Mix together nature’s surprise and you get crashing seasons indelibly etched in your mind.

Memories are like that. We get to keep them the way we capture them. They implant themselves in our brains and before you know it something fleeting has turned to permanence.

Why do some things that happen in a day stick and others slide off?

What has happened before? What was I feeling when it happened? From what perspective was I viewing it?

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By julie – November 6, 2009

Stuck in the Middle

 

 

Summer, 2009

 

The cable show “Myth Busters” proved quicksand does not quickly make you sink. I’m happy to learn that if I should find myself entangled in the gray I’ll have time to escape, but I must work at doing so.

 

As writers, sometimes our words fly onto the page. Sentences need little editing when the article, blog post or chapter is finished.

 

But sometimes, without notice or reason, I find myself in writing quicksand. This happened to me early last week. I didn’t know why I was in there or how I’d gotten off-path. I was stuck in a quadmire and it had suffocated my voice and confidence, and my treading only exhausted and sank me deeper.

 

Last night I drove to my cabin in northern Minnesota. This morning a turkey walked across the lakeside yard. My dog, Mick, chased a white-tailed bunny. The heady fog from 95 percent humidity has lifted and I see the lake now.

 

I spent a half-hour reading and doing Julia Cameron’s “morning pages” and realized I had found myself again. Here are a couple things I learned in my week of wallow and how I got freed and back to my happy writing place.

 

1.      “Vox populi”

 

Remodeling two bathrooms, preparing for my son’s high school graduation party, “house people” giving unsolicited comments about the menu, such as the buns I’d bought (dry), turkey I’d made (“Aren’t you serving barbecue … cheese … more pepper … with the turkey sandwiches?”) and hearing hard feedback on a book project all in the same week and I’d had too much of “vox populi.” I’m an extrovert so being around people energizes me. But last week was an overload of “voice of the people.” “Solitude is a friend to writers” wrote Deb Carriger Richards. Coming to the cabin, away from people, silenced the “vox pop” and helped to unveil “me” again.

 

2.      Q.V.s. Quod vide, Latin for “which see.” What helps you find clarity? For me, reading some C. S. Lewis, Oswald Chambers, Charles Spurgeon and Julia Cameron’s “Walking in the World” and doing her morning pages are on my “to-do list.” But I had let circumstances distract me and stopped my good habits. I started to read their words again and, though I was still in quicksand, I no longer was at a standstill, treading. I was in process to shore.

 

Who are your “which sees?” Who writes in a way that moves you? Read them when in your “stuck.” Write words they use on your morning pages or scratch paper during your stuck time. Doing so builds confidence and moves your pen. Here are some I picked: trance, trace, trendle. I’m not a huge fan of alliteration but I guess I was last week. Each seemingly simple word I put on my morning pages was a life buoy toward shore.

 

3.      Shore-swept by ill winds. Even quicksand has a boundary. I had somehow merged shore and land and when I did I was tossed into a ring of uninvited guests. Perhaps they’ve tried to befriend you too? The Intruder made me doubt myself and question why I try to sell my words. Miss Cellaneous Garbler muddled and caused racing thoughts, none of which I could string together and make use of. The Critic, who, generally-speaking, is important to have around, seemed unusally harsh and coupled with The Judger, their unsolicited advice nearly sank me.

 

Boundaries serve a purpose. They mark territory. If you’re stopped in your writing, take a look at those to whom you’re listening and ask “Why is what they are saying bothering me so much?” The reason might be that you’re not doing the talking but being persuaded, controlled, or disrespected; or, perhaps there’s some un-honoring of you going on. “Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement and we will make the goal,” wrote Jerome P. Fleishman. Listen to the voices who speak wisdom and they will positively impact in your life  

 

4.      End the vision and you’ll be stuck in reality. Peter only started to sink while walking on water when he took his eyes off Jesus. I stopped writing my daily writing goals which stopped me from having a reason to write and then I stopped writing. I became distracted by circumstances, people, uninvited guests and neglecting my Q.V.s. When I did go to the keyboard I couldn’t type because I saw only little words like “the, to, in, that, is.”

 

Being lakeside made me realize something big: Little words matter too. The great temple of Jerusalem began with a plume line.

 

My nephew is a builder. He’s going to build my neighbor’s gazebo. “The first couple of days when I’m over there you’ll think I’m not doing anything,” Dave said. “But it’s important to dig holes to have solid footings so the gazebo will be strong and stable. Once that’s done, you’ll see the gazebo go up fast.”

 

The same applies in our writing too. Little words cemented together make solid sentences.

 

If you’re stuck in writing quicksand right now, I encourage you to take 10 minutes and start writing in a stream of consciousness-like way about what’s going on in other parts of your life. Write words with hard “k” or soft “m” endings just for fun. Go to your Q.V.s and let them uplift and build your confidence again.

 

You’ll paddle to shore in no time.

 

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By julie – June 21, 2009

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