Seeking Magic

In Istanbul, I watched the ritual of the Whirling Dervishes. It was not the crazy, frenetic madness that I expected. It is a controlled, ecstatic ritual – if such a thing is possible. I was moved and inspired.

Earlier in the day, at the Santa Sophia Cathedral, my cheeks still damp with tears of awe, I wished at “the Sweating Column”. I slipped my thumb into the sea-shell looking hole (thinking that it could also be the eye socket of a skull). Then I swept my fingers around the circle and wished: “Please, let my full-time work be that of author.”

Brianna also wished and I teased her, “Did you wish for that million dollars?” She said, “Oh, no. That would be a waste of a good wish.” My beautiful child!

The ritual of the Whirling Dervishes began with a concert of Sufi music. Four men came out, dressed in black robes which they removed and handed to the musicians. Then they stood as in a square or circle. They begin to spin in place and raised their arms, one hand facing down toward the Earth, the other facing toward Heaven.

As the music played and Dervishes spun, I knew that my wish had already come true: that I am already a full-time author.

I felt a sense of the magic of creation and creativity. Fine storytelling is not the perfect sentence nor the most complex character. It is magic. Developing the skills of plot, description and evocation are paths to the magic. They can lead to deeper understanding and thus to more powerful magic. But they are not the magic. Ritual and practice and passion for detail lead to controlled ecstasy; the dance of whirling beautifully in one place.

This is what I seek in storytelling, I seek the sublime.

And this means I must move beyond myself. I am in the way. To achieve magic, to even touch magic, I must know it in my heart, my eyes, my spine, my fingers, my toes – bones, blood, cells. And then, I must spin away.

The more I learn about storytelling, the closer I come to magic.

Learning from the Masters

Currently there is a thread on the Guppies email list about re-reading old classics. Several people like Dickens and re-read his stories -- especially "A Christmas Carol" -- at this time of year. Another person re-reads "Babbit" every ten years just to see how her perceptions of this protagonist have changed. Others are re-reading C. S. Lewis, Tolstoy, Henry James, the novel "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", and Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird".

I've read most of these stories simply as a reader; I never took literature courses in college. Now I'm reading everything in an attempt to learn how fine storytelling is done. Like the lady chess champion who studied chess moves and games, I'm studying stories and storytelling.

At this time it's very hard for me to just "read". I start a book and begin instantly to analyze it for grammar, plot, credible characters, suspense, etc. If an author drags me into their story, it's very good. If I'm turning pages rather than slogging through like an assignment, then the book is very good indeed.

This makes me a bad conversationalist about books. I just don't think about books the same way anymore. I tend to ruin other people's enjoyment of a good read. Sorry friends.

I apologize for the bad conversation but not for the practice. Rocket scientists study under other rocket scientists in order to hone their rocketry skills. Michelangelo studied under marble carvers and sculptors for years. Teachers learn from other teachers at conferences and veterinarians study techniques of other veterinarians. This is the time-honored process of apprenticeship.

However, I just want to say here, I don't like it. I feel separated from everyone else who gets to just enjoy stories. My goals may be noble, but I am far, far away from achievements to match the chess champion or Tess Gerritsen.

I'd like to think I'll eventually find some authors to emulate. But I'm not there. I have a lot more reading to do. So please excuse me while I study.

What are you re-reading these days?

Prescription for Best Beginners: E for Effort

Tonight I'm watching a National Geographic special about people with brilliant brains. One woman is a leading chess champion who was trained by her father to use mental skills to develop mastery. One man is a savant who can tell what day of the week any date will fall on, past or present. Another man had a brain injury and now paints obsessively and beautifully.

I was most interested in the woman who is ordinary -- like me -- and yet has an extraordinary ability -- like I wish I had! She was raised to be a chess champion by a father who knew a little about chess, and had some strong theories about phsychological training and education. She was raised surrounded by chess books, analyzing different games and plays, studying past masters, experimenting with moves and ideas, developing tricks for memorization.

She spent hours and hours learning about chess. She fits the mold described by Malcolm Gladwell. Author of "The Tipping Point" and "Outlier: The Story of Success", Gladwell studied successful people and concluded: a person needs to invest 10,000 hours of concentrated and reflective practice to achieve mastery—this amounts to about 10 years.

I've seen this prescription applied to the success of Tiger Woods.(As you know, one of my favorites.) I also saw a recent documentary about T. Woods that explained that he no longer thinks about his golf swing. Through practice and exercise and analysis, he's gotten to where he just swings. His mind can quickly analyze conditions and strokes. He isn't "thinking" about golf, he is "intuiting" about golf.

In the National Geographic special, they also featured a firefighter who is an expert with a specific type of lethal fire experience. He doesn't "think" about fighting fires. He's spent a lot of time studying fires and experiencing them first hand. When in fire situations, he doesn't "think", he "intuits". He already knows clues and possible results of certain actions. He is successful because he has moved way beyond "thinking".

Why am I writing about this? Because I wish, with all my heart, that I could quit "thinking" about writing stories, and start "intuiting" them. I want to be like Tiger Woods and like the firefighter and the chess player: a person who simply writes very well intuitively.

But right now, I'm analyzing everything, studying plot structure, studying character development, sketching people and places with words, networking with others to learn from their ideas. Keeping this crazy blog. Geesh! I'm in class. And it's hard. And it takes a lot of work. And a lot of days I don't want to attend.

Then I'm back again. Again and again. This is how I know that I am breaking the Best Beginner mold.

Are you in class? What for? For how long? (Sounds like a prison term, eh?)

World's Best Beginner

My biggest challenge in learning anything is that I am a Great Beginner.

When I learn a new game, new skill, whatever, I appear to have the most incredible Beginner's Luck. Actually, what I have is incredible Beginner's Concentration.

The first time I learned archery, I hit almost 100%. Now I can't even hit a target. The first time I played poker, I took everyone's money. Now everyone feels safe with me in the game. The first few times I played chess, I actually won. Now I can barely play, even against a computer.

These games and skills were fun. They were interesting for those few moments when I learned them. Then, as all Great Beginners, I lost interest. From that point on, I didn't care about the score or the technique. I'd learned enough archery to know how it worked. Enough.

Here I am, The World's Best Beginner, finally trying to really learn something. I'm trying to become an accomplished novelist and storyteller. I'm trying to learn the details, the skills, the finer points of the craft.

And I have to say, Beginners are not good at moving into the ranks of Advanced. We hate the work and frustration and sweat and blood and gunk. Yuck! Back to Beginning, if at all possible.

However, even being a Beginner can lose its interest and appeal. I'm tired of the title, World's Best Beginner. I'm tired of the easy, quick win, then move on to something else. I finally want to be really good at something.

How about you? How do you learn? Are you a Great Beginner or an Accomplished Advanced?

Learning From Others: Character Development Tools

I’ve always felt comfortable with my fictional characters. Some of them come to me full blown, others take time to visualize. But I’ve always felt they were more than two-dimensional, more than cardboard cut outs of heroes and villains.

However, as I started this journey of crafting A+ fiction, I knew I’d be working on character. While this aspect of fiction is not a weakness for me, it’s not a strength either.

Therefore I’ve been on the lookout for ideas to develop characters. Most of what I’ve seen are charts and forms. I like charts and forms so I’ve used a few of these. However, I find myself bored with filling in the blanks about someone: birthday, home town, wedding anniversary/divorce, favorite color/car/shoes. I guess for me this feels more like a census report than the development of an actual fictional character. (Can there be an “actual” fictional character?!?)

Then one day I was reading about Elizabeth George on her website. She said that her stories develop from character. She makes notes about characters and then when she has enough, she puts the notes together into a story. Her novels are rich in eccentric characters, which makes them enjoyable for me. Some of those folks I still think about and wonder how they’re doing. Now that’s character development!

I liked the idea of sketching about a character and just collecting those notes. I can see those notes piling up in cardboard moving boxes labeled “Irina, the laundress” or “Scaffold Cat”. Then one day I’m walking past one of these boxes and glance in and there’s a character, mostly formed, waiting patiently or impatiently for the action to begin.

If the character is described well enough, then I write quickly on the story about them. If not, I struggle and usually want to put them back in the box, or on the back burner of the stove (depending on the creative metaphor of the moment).

Sometimes, when I’m really stuck, I find other fictional characters who can help me with my main character. For example, in the stories about the Constitutional Convention Kids, I turned to the mother of Israel and Jordan to learn more about them. She’s very proud of her kids and very willing to share with me. I’ve learned a lot about them from their mom.

What I’m discovering is that these character sketches and notes help fill in the story in wonderful unexpected ways. Who would have guessed that Elena was so in love with her husband and so immature about their son? I’d never have discovered that Mama Rosa’s husband has an old, painful wound.

Of course, as I write the main story, I’m now able to review these notes, add the sketches to the larger work, and maintain consistency for the character.

I am able to use this technique for character development because I was looking for tools to improve my fiction. I was willing to practice with different tools, and to use the tools in the best way for myself.

Have you found a creative “tool” that helped with your work? How many other tools did you try along the way?

Contest Submission

Just sent a short story off to a contest.

This is incredibly hard; to send a carefully crafted youngster off into the Big, Mean World. The world will not only judge the creator -- me -- but my darling little tale.

Competition is hard for me. I didn't come wired for this. I don't relish the thought of getting into the ring of prizefighting authors and duking it out for the title of Best, Winner, Champion.

Recalling the advice from a trainer: I tried to concentrate on the story, not the contest. By working on crafting the best tale I'm capable of at this time, I have control. I cannot control the competition.

An olympic swimmer would be concentrating on every tiny movement that makes them a better swimmer. Then they go to competitions to see how they're doing compared to others. Right now I'm concentrating on every tiny facet of crafting a better story. And now I've gone to a competition to see how I'm doing compared to others.

Maybe tonight a glass of wine and hot bath. A person deserves any wee reward for joining the fray, don't you think? What would you recommend?

Despite Despair

In "Notes to the Reader" at the end of his short story anthology, Strange Highways, Dean Koontz wrote:

"Every writer is an optimist at heart. Even if his work trades in cynicism and despair, even if he is genuinely weary of the world, and cold in his soul, a writer is always sure that the end of the rainbow will inevitably be found on the publication date of his next novel. "Life is crap," he will say, and seem to mean it, and a moment later will be caught dreamily ruminating on his pending elevation by critics to the pantheon of American writers and to the top of the New York Times bestseller list."

Well. There's an answer to despair. Dean Koontz, a well respected, professional writer knows about despair and the eternal optimism that brings us storytellers back to the page.

I used to be curious about miners. Many of them in the 1800s were independent, working their own claims, starving to death under horrible conditions just for the tiny potential lure of the Greatest Gold Strike Ever. Why didn't they get regular jobs, I wondered. Why suffer like this?

Foolish me. They were optimists. Even more so than I. With every swing of their pick or swoosh of their pan, they were expecting to find gold. Lots of gold. At the end of long, hard, miserable days they could probably be seen, like Koontz, "dreamily ruminating" on their potential success, and their "elevation to the pantheon" of those of who struck it rich!

I guess I'm learning that despite despair, a lot of us keep going. Enough whining. Back to the mines. Back to the page.

Despair Described

October was a dismal month for me. Bits from my journal:

"I feel a great despair about writing. Other people, many of them Horrible Writers have been published. I'm not even on the horizon. Not a blip of anything.

ALL of us unpublished think we're the Best Ever -- just national treasures waiting to be discovered. So who the hell am I to be different? To be some sort of Harper Lee waiting in the wings?

I feel like Aldonza from The Man of La Mancha: "I'm no one, I'm nothing, at all!"

And later:

"I keep thinking that anything would be easier than this Stupid Author Quest. Becoming a Career Violinist, for example. Or maybe an Olympic Marksman. How about a choreographer?

Argh! Despair is a terrible, terrible feeling.

But I am here. Drawn, I suppose, relentlessly to suffering.

I keep expecting the Magic Door to open. I'll step through it and there will be easy, beautiful writing and fans lined up to buy books and get my signature. That's all. Just that magical world. Easy writing, easy fans.

Instead I'm stuck here in the Kansas of my author soul; a place of endless horizons, painful blue skies, burning sun, and cornfield mazes. Where, oh where, is Oz?"

Anyone else ever experience this despair, this hopelessness, and this ridiculous persistence?

Character and traits: A. A. Milne

I read an article in a childrens' writer newsletter about finding a specific trait to assign your character in a children's story. I felt disgruntled by the simplicity of the advise, but truthfully, I need it. My children's character, Scaffold Cat, is not a unique, lovable character.

A. A. Milne used this concept in his Winnie-the-Pooh series. Pooh is greedy and covets honey. What a great set-up for children; they are greedy and covet sweets. Piglet is fearful and requires constant reassurance. Rabbit is a know-it-all who knows nothing. Tigger wants to play and has a bouncy tail. Eeyore is despondent, very different from hard-working helpful donkeys. He sighs all the time.

These characteristics make up the world of children. They are greedy, fearful, despondent, know-it-all, overly confident, and playful. Children can relate to all of these easily. The characters are exaggerated through physical characteristics.

Eeyore's tail is pinned on so of course he's despondent. He's ashamed because this isn't normal and then he's always worried about whether it's there. Sigh.

Tigger wants to play and have fun and can do many wonderful, joyful things using his bouncy tail. This tail also makes him extremely obnoxious, just like a very playful child.

Winnie-the-Pooh is greedy and the thing he wants to have is honey. This drive to acquire honey gets him into lots of fixes; a honey jar stuck on his nose, bees chasing him, stuck high in a tree. Poor Pooh!

Piglet is fearful and is also small. He needs to hold hands with others, and he also wants companionship. Which is why he is willing to accompany Pooh on forays -- even into the woods -- to find honey.

Perhaps this concept of character exaggeration is critical for evocation in a story. I'm comfortable with characters personality and motivation, but I've never thought about exaggerating those. And yet ... Duh!

Other fictional characters, especially for children, who have exaggerated character traits?

F for Failure

When I started grading my writing, I assumed that a "C" grade put me in the category of an average person. However, many people have never written fiction, even fewer have written novels, and fewer still have had any fiction published.

Grading myself against the average, everyday person, isn't fair to me, or to all those other people!

So today some clarification. My grading will be of my fiction writing, compared to other fiction writings.

I will assume here that anyone who has been published deserves, at the very least, a passing grade. That would be "D-" in our system. Most fiction is a lot better than that, thank goodness!

However, by setting this standard, I now find myself in the "F" category. Since I am not published, I'm not earning the grade. :(

I've always been a good student, actually much better than average. I'm good at homework, and learning, and schmoozing teachers. When I take a class, I pass. And I usually receive a "B" grade. Suddenly I am in the "slacker" category of students. I can't even get my stuff turned in, much less get a grade for it!

Times like this, I want to quit. What a stupid project this whole thing is. I'd be better off taking swimming lessons, or going horse back riding. Or sleeping. Or drinking a lot of wine.

But suddenly here I am, at my little blog, and working on my stories. I've chosen fiction writing to be the work I master in. I can't stop.

Time to re-think my "grades" to see how I stack up against other fiction writers, and to continue to work toward publication.

Time to get to class. Even if it is "remedial". Sigh.

My Grading Scheme

The last blog post was about why I chose to "grade" my fiction. This is about the grades I gave myself. "C" is average: any ol' Joe or Joan could do as well. "B" is above average, better than any ol' Joe or Joan. "D" is below average: not as good as the average Joe or Joan could do. No "F"s because, after all, I am writing!

Here is the list of fiction elements, and my grades of myself based on knowledge, experience, and skills.

Elements of Fiction: Knowledge, Experience, Skills, Overall
Character: A-, A-, B, A-
Conflict: B+, C, C, C,
Consistent elements: B, D, C, C
Description: C, C-, B-, C
Dialogue: B, B, A-, B
Editing: A-, B+, A, A-
Endurance -- daily "grind": B+, C+, B-, B
Evoking the dream: C-, D, D, D
Excellence: C, C+, C, C
Grammar: A-, B+, B+, B+
Imagination (added later, no grade yet)
Improvisation: B, C, B+, B
Interactive: C, C+, B, C+
Networking: B, A+, B+, B+
Outside analysis: C, C-, C, C
Plot: B, C-, C-, B
Poetic: B, C-, D, C
Point of View: B, B, B-, B
Research: A, A, A, A
Rewriting: B, C, C, C
Sentence Structure: A, A, A-, A
Suspense (page turning): C-, D, D, D
Thematic: C+, B-, B-, B-
Vivid Storytelling: D, C, C-, C-
Vocabulary: A-, A-, A-, A-
Voice: B-, B, B+, B

Totals: 5.08.08 B, C+, B-, B-

My overall fiction writing grade is "B-". This is barely above average, and for me right now, not in the least acceptable.

Anything else to add to this list? How would you grade yourself as a writer -- or in any creative endeavor?

Why use a grade?

Well, first, I’m a teacher and this is the evaluation system I know. As I became serious about writing fiction, I realized I needed to evaluate where I am, at this moment, as a fiction writer.

During the Olympics I read an article about athletic training. The article, written by Linda J. Buch, was about the mental game Olympians use and how their techniques can improve personal sport skills. It was short and covered the same basic “improvement” information I’ve read about for years. Perhaps its seeds were falling, for the first time, on fertile soil. I was wondering how to improve skills.

I’ve always been fascinated with Tiger Woods. This is odd because I don’t care about sports and definitely don’t know or care about golf. But there is something so accessible about Tiger Woods. Maybe it’s because he’s Ordinary Every Kid, made extraordinary. I read about how he improves his game, and I wonder if his techniques could apply to me. But then I think, “What am I thinking? I don’t play golf. This could never apply to me.”

The suggestions in Buch’s article were similar to techniques used by Tiger Woods to improve his game. “First, without judgment or excuses, take a personal and honest assessment of where you are today.”

This was tough. I’ve always thought I was a good writer, but exactly how good, and good in what ways? What could be improved? What strengths do I have and how can I build on them?

I came up with a list of qualities of fiction writing. Then I graded myself. Then I started this blog to share with the Universe my process of improvement.

Maybe, someday, Tiger will stop by here. :)

Review: Hillerman

I just finished Tony Hillerman's Sacred Clowns. I'd read it years ago, but barely remembered it, and this time I read it to answer some questions.

1. What did the book evoke?

The book evokes "misfit". Every major character somehow doesn't fit with his or her current circumstances. The Cheyenne federal agent who is trying to cope with Navajo culture. The lady attorney who is Navajo, in Navajo land, but grew up in the city, separated from her culture. The two detectives, Leaphorn and Chee who feel lonely for different reasons and often challenged by the ethics of their work and cultures.

The writing continually evokes this feeling of being a misfit, a feeling we all become familiar with in junior high school, and frequently face as adults. It's what makes us shy in new settings, sets us to asking odd questions like "What will people wear to the pcinic?" We've all experienced that moment when we showed up for a group function and, for some reason (dress, hair cut, age, shoes, time), we didn't fit in.

I remember going to a party in our hometown. Many couples our age were there. It had been talked about for weeks, this particular party. Within a few minutes I realized that we were the only couple who had brought a child. Our cute two-year-old daughter, dressed in pink, was running through the legs of adults -- by herself. Oops! Here we were, smart competent adults, suddenly misfits. We left very soon afterwards.

So by evoking "misfit", Hillerman tapped a universal unease. A reader could think, "I don't know what it's like to be a Navajo tribal policeman, but I sure know what it's like to not fit in."

2. What makes Tony Hillerman a good writer?

I found numerous writing "errors" in the book. Several times Hillerman's sentence structure was confusing, even twisted. I could stop and straighten out the sentence to make it better. The editor in me is good at that. Also, words were ocassionally mis-used. But these problems did not slow down the story.

The story is about misfit people in an exotic location -- the very rural reservations of the south west. Also, the story is filled with vivid details about this exotic place: the names of rural roads, the DJ at a radio station, sunsets against multi-colored mesas, the kachina dance at a pueblo, the smell of the school wood shop.

He explored the location with vivid details, and used precise words and phrases to express beauty or frustration or exhaustion.

3. Why is Tony Hillerman a best-selling author?

See above. Plus, the man can craft an excellent mystery plot.

Have you read any of Tony Hillerman's books? What do you think of his writing?

I Love Cake

I want to be very clear here. I do NOT like MAKING cake. I like EATING cake.

I prefer the sweet white cakes from the super market, but rich chocolate cakes are certainly acceptable. German chocolate is good, lemon is great, orange and strawberry flavored are certainly scrumptious.

Cake is a joy of my life. Although it can make me fat, it isn't as complicated as family. Cake doesn't have "issues" like chocolate does. You can only eat so much cake, then you have to stop. Then it's just there for the next time you want to enjoy.

Another joy in my life is writing fiction. I love MAKING fiction and I love READING fiction. It's even better than cake! And writing fiction has no calorie content whatsoever. The only real down side is that I get very spacey and my family gets very impatient. Like cake, I can only write so much fiction, then I have to stop for awhile. But I always know it's there to enjoy.

I've come to realize in the last few days, that writing fiction is like eating cake for me: one of life's great joys. Along with that realization, came the understanding that like cake, I can enjoy writing fiction whenever and where ever I want. I'm truly not tied to place or days or an office or a desk. Writing just happens where it happens. Just like eating cake just happens.

The rest of life, what often feels like it's interfering with the joy of writing, is actually contributing to the writing, providing fuel for characters and plots and juicy details. What provides this for cake? Icing!

Therefore, life is like icing.

I also love icing.

Metaphor

I tend to think "in metaphor". It's almost like a game with me, "Is this moment like a symphony, or more like a cup of hot chocolate? Maybe like a wild train ride!"

For a long time I was embarrassed about my metaphor inclination. I had read a light hearted mystery in which metaphors were overused and panned seriously. When I was done with the story, I felt sort of ridiculous to be so attached to metaphors.

But like most personality aberrations, this constant thinking about metaphors just wouldn't go away. It became more a secret pleasure, than just a pleasure.

Then one day I was talking to a well-read literary person and I made a derogatory comment about metaphors. The person blinked, and said, "Metaphors are good."

Picture me doing a mental Happy Dance. "Well, if one person thinks metaphors are okay, then that's good enough for me!"

I've been openly metaphoric ever since. I believe this quirk makes me a better fiction writer.

What's your feeling about metaphors? Is this a quirk of yours, or do you harbor others more dangerous?

Evocative Music

Last night we watched two episodes of Star Gate. (Two episodes because this is Romania and the TV stations sometimes stack shows that would normally be spread throughout the week.) This show, in tone, is a lot like the old Star Trek series. Serious about a very futuristic, fantastical world, yet filled with fascinating characters and lighthearted moments. As I watched, I tried to analyze what moved the story from serious, frightening, funny, back to serious, back to funny. The answer in part: the music.

Music in TV and movies is like subliminal messaging. It tells us how to feel, how to respond, what we should feel at certain points in the story.

For example, in one of the Star Gate episodes, a plant from another planet was brought back and was slowly but irrevocably taking over the whole Star Gate complex. The Scientist in charge of the plant, and responsible for the problem, seemed unable to control the mess and also was allergic to the plant. While this was actually extremely serious, we smiled and even laughed during these parts of the show.

Why? Because the music indicated that while serious, this little story was meant to be fun. How did the music "tell" us, the viewers, how to feel? How did it evoke that lightheartedness?

Consider the old classical music favorite "Peter and the Wolf". You probably can even hum the tune of some of the characters, like Grandpa (slow, ponderous bassoons), the wolf (intense, urgent French horns), and Peter (chipper, bouncy violins). The composer used the sound, and nuances of different orchestra instruments to evoke the characters of the story.

In the same way, last night's episode of Star Gate used music. The story about the plant was accompanied by a chipper, bouncy tune played on just a few higher pitched instruments. It reminded me of that lighthearted theme on the old classic Star Trek episode, "The Trouble with Tribbles." However, the parts of the episode that were meant to be serious, or even suspenseful, were played on lower instruments, in lower registers, in minor keys, with a slower yet urgent pace.

I think we all know that music adds to the storytelling experience of tv and movies. Music enriches the tale, gets it closer to the pleasure points in our brains so that we are more deeply entertained. In the same way, of course, fiction writing can entertain.

This is my quest, to find combinations of words, sentences, character, dialogue, plot, paragraphs, grammar and punctuation that evoke feelings in the reader. I'm really hoping to get to pleasure points in people's brains. (Nyah, ah, ah!)

What does music evoke for you? Any music you "feel" more attracted to?

Evoking the Dream: Class with John Gardner

If you know John Gardner, the author, you know he's dead. Therefore this class is being held posthumously.

A copy of Gardner's book, "On Becoming a Novelist" came into my hands about a year ago. I started reading it and threw it aside. "Well this is a lot of puffed up nonsense by some old guy. Not another one!"

But it was the only book about writing available to me, so I picked it up again. "Be positive. You can always learn a little something new."

Perhaps I'd changed, or the Universe changed, or even Gardner changed. As I started to read the second time, I was caught. Gardner was speaking to me, a "becoming novelist" in the matter-of-fact, take-it-or-leave-it manner of an experienced teacher. It was as though he knew his book would be thrown down, given away, found again, re-opened. And he was fine with that, because the person who re-opened his book, needed it right then.

This is what I read and re-read in Gardner's book: as readers, "We slip into a dream, forgetting the room we're sitting in, forgetting it's lunchtime or time to go to work. We recreate ... the vivid and continuous dream the writer worked out in his mind and captured in language so that other human beings, whenever they feel like it, may open his book and dream that dream again."

For the first time, the very first time, I began to view fiction writing from the point of view of the reader. Until my time with Gardner, my fiction was "given" to me like holy writ, and if the world liked it, well okay. But really, why continue to write? Why create fiction just for myself? Why go to all the trouble to write down bits of a dream? Why not just dream?

Because, like so many other dreamers, I really do want to share my dreams. And sharing, just as we learned in kindergarten, means considering others.

In the past months I've willingly embarked on a path of extreme growth. It all started with Gardner's darn book, and hopefully, will continue until I die. In order to share, to consider others, I'll use this modern tool: the blog.

Do you have a book, a moment, an author that suddenly deepened your thinking about something?