Vacation's End

I return tentatively.

I think I'm afraid that if I start blogging again, I'll quit again, and then I'll just be a Quitter. (Not good if you're NOT a smoker.)

To recap:
Since May 27, I left Romania where my husband and I had been serving in the Peace Corps. We completed our service -- happily! We toured Europe: Brussels, Amsterdam, Bath, Luxembourg. We left our Romanian kitty at a kennel outside Brussels where the keepers did not speak English and at one point wanted to send her to a shelter because they thought we'd abandoned her. With the help of our Romanian friend living in Luxembourg, the cat's reservation was confirmed and we picked her up our last day in Europe. We flew across the Atlantic, gaining back the day we had lost 2 1/2 years before. We landed in Chicago, took the screaming Romanian kitty through customs, and managed to get all of us safely to Minneapolis and into the arms of our daughter, Brianna. Whew! Back in America!

We visited with Brianna and met her boyfriend Cameron. The Romanian kitty was very rude and unfriendly to the two American kitties who were her hosts. We repossessed our car, which Brianna had been caring for, and headed west to Colorado, the Romanian kitty screaming every single minute of the way. We stayed a night at a small town in Nebraska where a tornado came visiting. Whew!

In Colorado we visited our good friend in Denver, and the Romanian kitty stayed in a small apartment room by herself -- no mixing this time with native American kitties. Then on to our home town of Alamosa in southern Colorado. The first day there we hugged my Mom, ate at a favorite Mexican food restaurant, and bought a new mattress. Oh, and we left the Romanian kitty in an empty room (well, all the rooms were empty) at our house. The next day we had our mattress so we began to move back in. Our son, Prester John, appeared and took charge of our furniture and all the boxes. We remember this as a time of naps and oxygen deprivation. The Romanian kitty, meanwhile, learned about the stairs and enjoyed running up and down them with gleeful speed and thumping.

We arrived around July 4, so we went to all the Independence Day festivities we could find. We were so glad to be back home in America!

Through July and August I applied for "day" jobs. I worked for a month as a business manager helping a man create a local business of making high-end fashion boots. It was a learning experience for both of us. Then I was offered and accepted the job of General Manager at our local public radio station, KRZA 88.7 FM.

So what happened to my passion, my writing, during all this?

Amazingly, I wrote fairly consistently; especially when we first returned and I had more time. I even attended a conference for writers of children's books. And, of course, I rejoined my writers group, the Sophia Circle.

I feel like I am finally, and once again, breathing.

I am re-acquainting myself with writers, writing topics, and writing goals. I am remembering how much I love this work. I am remembering that it has always been with me, and still is.

Though tentative, I am reaching once again for the passion.

Do Passions Take Vacation?

The next two weeks I'll be on vacation -- traveling to Brussels, Amsterdam, Bath, Luxembourg. We'll take a ferry across the English channel and return through the Chunnel. We'll party in Amsterdam and meditate at Stonehenge.

I'm wondering if my writing life will also take a vacation. I think the answer is "No!"

I'm already wondering what interesting stories I'll hear, what books of folktales I can buy, what history I'll learn.

I think when we are passionate about something, we never take a vacation from it. We take vacations away from "work", earning a living, coping with deadlines and stress. We don't vacation from the passions of our life; we embrace the new adventures.

We're going to Bath, England. I feel like I've been there before, so I expect some sort of story will capture my imagination and get her playing excitedly.

I'll let you know if anything exciting comes along on this vacation.

What about you? When you go on vacation, do you leave your hobby, your passion behind?

Antidote to Whining

My antidote, to whining about creating stories, is to create a new project.

This week, a project far in the back of my mind, suddenly came forward and demanded a lot of attention. It had been just a funny idea, a concept, something to work on years from now.

Then I saw the characters in a tough, very tough situation and I had to start writing.

I don't know if this happens to other people, but for writers this is a common tale: we're just going about our lives and suddenly an idea arrives and we must write and write and ignore the rest of the world -- if possible -- and write until our hand or fingers or head hurt. It's an exhilarating time, full of suspense and joy. I've heard that runners experience a "runner's high" after running for a period of time. This is the "writer's high".

And we all know that joyfulness is a great cure for depression and sadness. It's also great for whining. I feel rejuvinated, happy. I feel like I really am still a great story teller.

My advise to others struggling with creative block: start a new project.

Tantrum -- darn it!

So I tried, I really did. I didn't pick up a pen. I ignored my notebooks. I avoided the internet and the writer's lists. I forced myself to imagine a life without creating stories. "It can't be THAT hard," I assured myself.

I've quit jobs before. It's sometimes a painful process, but then I move on. I don't dwell on that stuff anymore. I look forward.

As I was planning my new life -- the one without telling stories -- my mind drifted to one on my characters and I wondered what her inner desire would be under similar circumstances. I wondered about her "foil" and the kind of trouble I could make for the two of them.

Wait!

Stop!

I quit! Remember? I wasn't going to be a writer any more. I MUST think of other things.

And then there I was -- in another unguarded moment -- with pen in hand, scratching out words on a page, solving a plot problem in another tale.

Heavy sigh.

Right now the internet is filled with inspiration from that Susan Boyle woman, the model of staying true to your dreams and your talent. Oh yes, I've seen the YouTube video -- about a hundred and eleven times. I've cried. I've wept. I've wanted the best for her. I've even been envious! She's younger than me, after all, and way more talented!

We're all envious, and we're all jumping and cheering for her. She's us. She's normal. She just wants to sing really, really good.

So, what I'm saying is, this was a bad week to try to quit telling stories. I wasn't doing a very good job of quitting anyway, and then all that inspiration seeped into the internet and my computer and my soul.

This is what I do. I never have stopped, after all these years. Maybe I'll never be published, maybe I will, but each day of my life, that doesn't matter. What matters is the stories. What matters is being true to me.

This blog comment, by JT Ellison, sticks with me today: "We have to believe in ourselves fully and completely and unquestioningly BEFORE we can get anyone to believe in us. It's a combination of confidence and humility and that secret knowledge that God has reached down and touched a part of us, whether we look like it or not. It applies to anything you want, any dream you have."

Okay, your turn. Anyone out there tried to quit a secret dream? Are you willing to tell what happened, what the dream was?

Tantrum or Termination?

I just read about the royalties of several published authors. I found their revelations to be VERY DISCOURAGING. I am wondering why in the world I'm pursuing such a STUPID career.

I wonder if Young Tiger Woods ever had that day when he said, "This is the STUPIDEST game ever! What the heck am I doing here? I could be an accountant. I could have a love life. I could play piano. ENOUGH! I'm outta here!" Then he stomped off the golf course, swearing under his breath. His father, watching his five-year-old have this tantrum, wondered if this was the final hurrah for his kid.

Many years ago I worked with a man who golfed a lot. I never knew if he went because he enjoyed golfing or because it was "expected" of men who wanted to get ahead, or if he just liked spending the day outside. Anyway, he usually went to the golf course on weekends. One Monday he was really upset. He told me he was so angry at the whole stupid game of golf that he threw his golf clubs in the river. "I just walked over to that bridge and threw 'em over." I gasped, "Aren't golf clubs expensive?" He said, "Yeah. It felt really good to get rid of them."

So. As of today, I'm not going to be a writer any more. I'm throwing my pens and papers and internet lists into the River of Might Have Beens. This is too much work for too little return. I QUIT !!!

[Of course, we know that Tiger Woods, no matter how many tantrums he has, keeps coming back to the golf course. My friend bought new clubs and went back to golfing. Stay tuned to the blog for further developments.]

Inspiration: Let it Shine

This morning I watched on YouTube a shampoo commercial from Thailand. It features a young woman who wants to play the violin. But she's no ordinary girl.

Check it out and let me know what you think.

http://pop.6park.com/life2/messages/86399.html

Personally, I'm watching this over and over.

Putting Learning to Work

I just completed a children's story: Scaffold Cat Versus Bell Tower Pigeon.

It's the first story I've written all the way through using a lot of the new plotting tools I've been learning. Here are some of them:

* I tend to go off in all sorts of interesting directions when I write, which is a lot of fun. However, by itself, this method doesn't produce a clear story. This time, after all the fun writing, I prepared a "root story" which defines the either-or conflict of the story. The protagonist will either get what she wants OR she won't, and the antagonist wins. It's been a big help for focusing the story in one specific direction.

* I really like stories to come full circle; to have an ending that relates back to the beginning. With this story, I "planted" an item at the beginning that would give the reader, at the end, a sense of satisfaction and of completion.

* After the story was basically written, I did several very specific re-writes: one for the "villain" only, to make sure that character was well defined; one for the heroine; one for tension; and finally one for spelling and grammar. By the time I finished these focused re-writes, I felt that I had worked on making the story better and better.

This time, the tools and techniques felt time consuming. I'm hoping that with each new story, the use of tools will get easier, that my stumbling baby steps will become more confident and my stride more relaxed.

Becoming adept

I see that my recent posts have all been about how hard it is to learn new stuff. What a whiner I am!

Fortunately, I seem to be getting over the worst of the curve.

I am now using some new tools, especially for plotting. This has always been my weakest skill in storytelling. I'm applying them to stories I read. For example, stories usually follow a 3-act structure, similar to plays. Each act ends with some sort of climax or problem. For the last 6+ novels I read, I plotted out their 3-act structure. I identified the conflicts and climaxes.

At the same time, I'm revisiting several of my stories and plotting them according to 3 acts. Some have fallen into place easily. Most are like bad kids who don't want to line up.

At least right now I don't feel so awkward. I just feel like a learner. I started a new Scaffold Cat story and I'm practicing my new skills on it. At this moment, I feel very good about the tale.

But then, this is a deceptive feeling for me. I ALWAYS feel very good about my storytelling. This is why I stumbled along for so many years without learning new techniques -- I was already very good, thank you very much. In fact, I avoided learning because I thought I'd lose that thrill of creation.

What I'm learning is that the method of creating may change, but the thrill is still there for me. I love creating stories. I'll be so thrilled when I can share with others via publishing.

What thrills you? What do you absolutely love to do (that can be shared publicly!) and what have you learned about it?

Learning Again For the Very First Time

I've always been a good storyteller, but all these new tools are making me crazy. They are so elementary, and yet so HARD to use. I feel like an expert who is back in beginning classes. I'm having to learn all over again.

Fortunately, I have a life experience of learning something again for the first time.

I started playing violin in 4th grade. For some mysterious reason, I was fascinated with the instrument, and my parents, hoping (I'm sure) that I'd soon tire of the fad, actually bought me a used, 3/4 sized violin.

Learning the violin is no easy task. First there's holding the darn thing so it doesn't fall and break into a million pieces and then how do you explain THAT to your parents? Then there's placing your left hand fingers on the fingerboard to make an approximation of notes. Finally, there's the bowing. Who invented this stuff anyway? Dragging a horsehair bow across a string to make a sound?

Strangely enough, and to my family's dismay, I stuck with the instrument and played in orchestras in junior high and high school. I even joined the orchestra in college. Then Dr. Gordon Childs, the orchestra conductor and a fine man who should have known better, encouraged me to take violin lessons -- so I would get better. "Better" at the violin was always an elusive goal for me. But I was young and energetic and willing to try new stuff, including getting better at the violin.

I actually did improve a bit, and enjoyed playing in the orchestra more when I wasn't always the last chair of the last chairs.

But then one day, the whole thing changed. I went to my lesson and Dr. Childs said that I was going to learn a new way to bow. I'm sure I said something brilliant like, "There's more than one way?" And he said yes, there was now a new theory about bowing and I was going to learn it because it would make me, like everyone one else, a better violin player.

The new method of bowing didn't require a significant change. All I had to do was lower my right elbow so that the weight of my arm drew the bow. This was the opposite of what I'd been taught: to hold my elbow up and use force to draw the bow. A lot of benefits were immediately obvious: my elbow and shoulder would not get so tired, my playing would be more natural (whatever that was), and, well, it would make playing the violin a lot easier. Being a lazy violin player, I was all for "easy".

Man o man, maybe bowing was easier the new way, but LEARNING the new way was hard, Hard, HARD! Did I mention "hard"?

Suddenly I couldn't play at all. My fingerings went to hell (well further), my timing was off, my sound was atrocious. I was back to screeching sound out of my poor instrument, just like when I'd been learning all those years before. The process was one of the most frustrating learning experiences of my young life. The thought of breaking that violin into a million pieces began to look very appealing.

And yet, little by little, day by day, the bowing came easier, the fingering and timing and other techniques came back. Slowly I learned to play the violin again for the very first time.

(Sometimes I wonder if the whole orchestra sounded atrocious that year as we all adjusted to the new playing technique. Poor Dr. Childs! And yet the reward when we were playing well again must have been stunning.)

Slowly, I am learning to tell stories again for the very first time. At least this time around I know to expect the HARD part. Or maybe I just know that all the whining in the world won't help -- I must just practice.

Have you ever had this experience? Learning a new technique at something and then having to re-learn all over again? How did YOU keep your sanity? (I'm desperate for tips right now.)

Gathering Tools

One of the "tools" used by storytellers, is the "gathering of the tools". Think about Harry Potter in the first book. He gets money, an owl, and a wand. These are his first, and most important tools.

I am starting to gather tools for storytelling. But it ain't easy.

I feel like I signed up for a construction class because I'd fixed broken doors in my house and helped with a few Habitat for Humanity projects. Thinking how easy this sort of work is, I decided to start a new career, get some training, make a lot of money.

The first day of class, the instructor gives me a giant toolbox. I am concerned. It's really big ... really, REALLY big. It'll hold a lot of tools. Do I really need all that many tools just to construct a house? I mean really; surely a hammer, a screwdriver and a wrench are enough.

Then I open the box and see that it's already half-filled with tools. Some of the them are familiar to me, some are familiar but I don't why they would be in a construction toolbox, and some are just plain weird. I sigh.

Then the instructor says, "Take care of this toolbox. We're going to add more tools as we go along."

E gads! More? I suddenly feel faint.

This is going to be a lot harder than I expected. Surely there's an easier set of classes around here. Maybe I could go across the hall and sign up for those easy classes about space walking. Surely they don't have a stupid tool box. Surely!

But something keeps me in this class. I slam shut the lid on the toolbox, sharpen my pencil, take out a fat, blank notebook, and wait to learn.

Of course, first thing, we must open the toolbox and use the tools.

My first tool is "gathering of the tools". Fortunately, I at least understand the basics of this tool. How well I can use it in a story is another thing.

What are the tools of your challenging work? Do you use a "toolbox"? Do you ever wish you could take those other classes across the hall?

Curses!

I'm sick of learning!

My brain hurts!

Damn the internet and it's evil cousin Wikipedia!
Damn them!!
Damn them to hell!!!

My Exploding Brain

These are some things I've learned about in the past week:

* plants and payoffs - from Alexandra Sokoloff
* breaking the fourth wall, a theater term - from Wikipedia
* suspension of disbelief, theories -- from Wikipedia
* villains -- from a writing class, and Alexandra Sokoloff
* character development techniques -- from many sources
* root story -- from a class
* web site making -- from experimenting
* "down time" ideas -- from P. D. James
* fantasy nodes -- from Wikipedia

I can feel the synapses in my brain sparking against each other, and new connections being made, and my brain flexing like a weight lifters arms.

Thank goodness it doesn't hurt!

What about you? Have you ever experienced this kind of mind expanding learning time? What were you learning? How long did it last? Why did it happen then?

An illusion busted

I've carried around the illusion that talent and determination are enough for achieving great success. This illusion has been lovingly petted, fed, discussed, nurtured.

The blind spot, or sleight of hand, of this illusion is the definition of "determination". For some reason, I've had the notion that this meant simply "doing". If I was doing something a lot it meant I cared about it and would magically acquire facility and ... well ... some form of great success would occur.

Look at that Tiger guy -- he plays golf every day. Isn't that a perfect example of determination?

However, I've read about Tiger Woods and I know that he does much more than "play" golf every day. He studies golf videos, other golfers, golf courses. He improves a skill by studying the parts of it and experimenting. Then he systematically applies what he's learned, sometimes re-training his body and mind for years to accomplish a small change with far-reaching results.

This picture of Tiger Woods is not of just a "determined" person. He doesn't just practice golf, he studies it. He thinks about it. He experiments with it. He researches it. The picture I'm describing is of learning. Tiger Woods is the quintessential "learner of golf". He's been learning gimmicks and tools all his life. He's been studying and experimenting. It's what he does.

Talent is probably helpful. I suspect Tiger Woods has a talent for physical ability. Sophia Hammond had a talent for visual ability. And Abe Lincoln had a talent for politics.

However, the person who excels, who achieves high quality success, is also a superior learner. They are willing to study, research and experiment in their chosen field. They are willing to fail because they just learn and go on. Their success is built on the research, study and experimentation that they're willing to acquire. When they stop learning is when they retire.

This is extremely liberating for me as I take on my storytelling career.
1) I can throw away the haunting specter of "practice". I've never been good at practicing anything. so I assumed that I could never be "good" at anything. "Practice makes perfect" meant I could never, ever achieve perfection. Now I won't worry about practicing. I don't practice anyway, and I'm thinking Tiger Woods doesn't either.

2) I am a great learner. I am very good at research, studying, and experimenting. I learn many different ways and I love the process of learning. I am already a quintessential learner.

3) If good learning, combined with some talent, can achieve great success, then I am "perfectly" positioned. :)

This was a nice revelation today: Talent + Learning = Great Success.

Why history?

I often ask myself: why is history my venue of choice for stories rather than, say, the future, or Manhattan, or even my hometown suburb of Wheatridge, Colorado? I know about those places (well, maybe not Manhattan so much ... maybe ...)

Writing about history, if one wants to be accurate, requires a great deal of research, almost enough to get a degree! History ain't easy!

Also, History ain't pretty.

People lived in absolute squalor compared to us, surrounded by their garbage and using the outdoors for bodily functions. They had very limited diets, succumbed easily to infection, started families at the age of 12, shared beds with multiple family members or strangers -- if they even had beds, and rarely washed themselves or their clothes. Our past is filled with filth, massacre, rape, disease, extortion, manipulation, and thievery. And that's just the small town stuff!

It is indeed, as my Dad would say, the story of man's inhumanity to man. And more precisely, man's inhumanity to women, children, slaves, and everyone who is "different".

Viorel Culiciuc, a Romanian philosophy professor, said, "There should be one more fundamental right: the right to be different."

Most folks today would agree with Mr. Culiciuc, yet all folks today share the same messy, icky, inhumane history. Most people in the past have wanted to erase differences and make everyone the same -- or else wipe them off the planet.

So why write fiction that takes place in that dreadful back story, that smelly garbage heap of invading armies and mass executions for religious beliefs?

Because I am fascinated that any good at all has occurred.

Other people study evil: what it looks like, why it exists. When I look at the horrors of history, I want to study good: what it looks like, why it exists.

For me, this is the most intriguing mystery of all.

How about you -- what intrigues you about history? If anything?!?

The Thing

Okay. Here’s the thing.

The thing is that I spend a lot of time, I mean an AWFUL lot of time, inside my own head. It’s pleasant there and I know everything because, after all, it’s my own thoughts banging around.

But it does get lonely.

It also gets warped. I’ve learned over the years that I learn a lot from other people, especially when I share my o-so-precious inner thoughts and the other person says, “Hm. I don’t agree.” Or “Where did you get that weird idea?” or “No Sir! You’re just plain crazy!”

Okay. I’m not crazy about the “You’re just plain crazy!” remarks, but they always make me think. Always, darn it!

They shake up my inner dialogue and tilt my world a bit differently.

As I write in this blog, I realize that I really want some discussion. I’m perfectly willing to toss out ideas, even be quite firm about how correct they are. But I am also willing to listen to other ideas, to facilitate discussion, to give and take and give away and take away.

With all this in mind – my mind, of course! – I’m going to shift the focus of this blog.

I want to write about writing. But I also want to compare fiction writing to other creative and interesting endeavors. I’m just as interested in the process for other people as in my own. That’s why, I think, I’ve written here about the lady chess player, the man who wants to invent time travel, Tiger Woods, and the lady who developed a new kind of space suit.

And you, dear reader. I’m interested in your creative and interesting endeavors. Please take a few moments to share your process, the stuff banging around inside your head, the cool lessons you’ve learned from others.

What, pray tell, are your creative and challenging endeavors?

My Way, Continued

I am still here, on my Trail of Storytelling, in the dark forest of my fears. If a wide path suddenly opened to left or right and I could see an easy, well-lighted, friendly passage that would get me out of here - I admit, I'd stay on my trail. If a bright light that suddenly blinded me but showed me how to climb above the canopy to a higher, brighter plain -- I must confess, I'd raise my hand to hood my eyes, and stay firmly on the ground.

I am happy here.

I've traveled the broad highway and even come close to Enlightenment. But I'm happiest here, in the fearsome forest of creating story.

Sometimes, usually in the murkiest moments, when I just want to sit down in the bole of an ancient tree and become part of it, something happens to encourage me. A ray of light exposes safe passage on the path, a butterfly shows the way through a dense tangle, the trail itself smooths for a few paces, making traveling easier.

Today I feel drawn forward, willing once again to take steps, to tighten my pack for the new tools and new adventures ahead.

Whatever else happens around me, I want very much to stay on my trail in the forest.

What do your fears look like: a forest, desert, ocean? Have you ever abandoned a treasured "calling" for another?

My Artistic Way

I often think of myself as being on a path, surrounded by dense forest, thick with deadfall and brambles.

I can barely see ahead through the deep shadows, the twists of the trail. The forest is generally silent around me on the Trail of my Life's Calling. In the distance, I hear bird song, snapping twigs, even an occasional growl. I have no idea what will occur on the next bend of the path. Will the murk become murkier? The sun more obscured? Light more diffused? Will danger be there, laying in wait? A stalking mountain lion? A serial killer? An enraged bear? Or will the danger be more subtle: poison berries flashing colorful hope when I'm starving, a trickle of water with malicious bacteria when I'm thirsty, a leaf-covered root rising up to twist my ankle or break my leg when I'm in a hurry?

This forest is a dark, unknown, frightening place. It is made up of all human, primal and personal fears. The trees are set against me; their sprouts and sidekick bushes strategically placed to stall my progress.

What a dim, dreadful picture!

And yet ...

And yet ...

I'm still here, in this forest, taking steps on my personal path.

Have you ever found yourself on a murky path, stepping forward toward an unknown but precious hobby?

New Year's Resolution 2009

Each year I choose one coffee cup. I use that cup all year, every morning. It reminds me of my one great goal, or resolution, for that year.

One year I chose a cup which said, "Home Sweet Home" and my goal was that my family, my kids in particular, would be more polite and considerate. That year I encouraged our family to say "please" and "thank you" to each other. I encouraged thoughtfulness and peace in our home. At the end of the year, it seemed to me that we were all kinder, more considerate people. I felt my goal had been achieved.

Another year I chose a cup with a nice house on it. We had purchased undeveloped property outside town and were hoping to have some sort of living quarters there. I wanted a house there. My goal was a new house. In November of that year, we moved into the used double-wide trailer we'd set up on the property. We became country folk. My goal was achieved.

Having the coffee cup, and one single goal, has helped me actually accomplish goals over the years. It's a way of focusing, without being nagged and without despair. I usually have all year, after all, so I feel comfortable about working on the goal. I'm not resolving to lose 10 pounds in January or to change my life in 10 ways. I just resolve to accomplish one thing and I use a coffee cup to remind me of that resolution.

My cup this year: whirling dervishes, masters of controlled spiritual ecstacy, to help me improve my writing, to create stories which give readers a feeling of ecstacy.

From blog pix, Jan 09