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?