10,000 Lives
Life is so fascinating. If I lived 10,000 lifetimes, I couldn’t do, learn, see, say, taste, or meet all I would love to. I’m neither Hindu nor Buddhist. Even if I were, I wouldn’t remember my previous lives, so being one doesn’t even count for more than one life. We only have one life to live. Maybe I should write a soap opera show with this brilliant title. Oh. Right.
I attended a symposium this past weekend. A Navajo workshop speaker shared how, growing up off reservation and also being college educated, he wanted to live on reservation to know how it felt, including not knowing from day to day from where food or money would come. He told how he made a three-year commitment, he would survive like his people did during that time period, or else up to the point where he would have to declare bankruptcy.
Screech, went the tires of my thought-car. How is that the same? He always had an out. Always. Unlike those who live their entire lives on reservation. And then I crashed right into my own lifetime as a writer.
What gives me the right to write about cattle round-ups (I’ve only been on two), or wildfires (I do recall the heart-racing “will we survive hiking off this mountain” and other times “will our house burn”)? What gives me the right to write about life in a small Lake Michigan town in 1873, when I don’t even live in that town, let alone not in that time? And what gives me the right to write about unicorns when I’ve only met one… Oh. Right.
I may not really have 10,000 lifetimes to live, but there are millions more than that to read about. (Yea, books!) And there are millions of stories scrambling to escape from my head. (Yea, writers!) In this one life to live today, read some, write some, talk with strangers and with friends, do something out of the ordinary, and come live 10,000 lifetimes with me.
TeReDeSy – Temporary Rejection Depression Syndrom
I had it last week. I only realized it when I had a whole day to work on revisions and didn’t even want to look at a computer. The killer was when I realized I was chucking my to-do list, but didn’t even want to do something fun, like read for pleasure. Red flags whipped in my mind’s wind and I thought: What in the world would make me feel so limp? Then I remembered the two rejections over the past two weeks.
Oh, potatoes! I have TeReDeSy!
The acronym almost flows off of your tongue when you speak it as if it were some fancy-dancy word. I wish it were as easy to flow off of my emotional body. But that is the trick to being a writer, both clinging to those emotions and hating them. For strong emotions are essential for good writing, but the same strong emotions in real life can send said author on a stomach-leaving roller-coaster ride.
Part of the healthy recovery plan is knowledge and acceptance of the problem. “Hi. My name is Sandy. I was rejected.” (You all chime in with a “Hi, Sandy.”) Then I cuddle in the circle with my writer friends, and remember that Star Wars was rejected by every major Hollywood Studio; Gone with the Wind was rejected 67 times; and Jane Yolen, author of more than 300 children’s books, continues to get rejections.
An important knowledge point is to remember that the first and major word of the acronym is “temporary.”
Remember the rejection feeling. Use it with your characters (e.g., KeeKee didn’t get the role she wanted in the school play; Robroy struck out and his team consequently lost; Myst told Jake she loved him, and then he walked away from her).
Join me fellow writers, in putting our right hands on top of each other, and lifting them together with a cry of “BACK TO WRITING!”
P.S. Yes, I made up that acronym – TeWrDeSy. After all, I’m a fiction writer. It’s my privilege to do so. I have tons more Sandy-Vocabulary which I have used often enough that even my literal, focused hubby has learned how to understand my language.
Writing About Touchy Subjects and Wild Burros
I’ve been thinking about touchy subjects and wondering why they are such. I think I’ve got it figured out. These sensitive subjects fall into one of two categories: 1) You can be very emotional about said subject, or 2) your intended recipient can be very emotional about it.
Most people dread conflict. This can be a good thing if it keeps you safe. But conflict is essential in interesting writing.
In life, it’s simpler to avoid differences of opinion or experience. However, by doing so, you end up locking yourself in your little box and don’t let any of “them” come in. You also allow eureka moments pass you by.
I’m reminded of wild burros in South Dakota. The first time to the park, we stopped our van as they surrounded us. They rubbed against our vehicle with us safe inside, windows up and doors locked — because everyone knows how those smart animals can climb in cars and drive away. Only a few minutes of having twenty burros lick with their huge tongues and rub their dripping noses along every window did we decide to try to break from the herd so we could throw up and then get to a car wash before heading home.
The next time to the park, I saw someone get out of their car and hand feed the animals bread slices. The burros didn’t trample each other, or her. They also didn’t excrete all over her car. She talked to them and pet them. They weren’t even rude to each other, but waited patiently for their turns.
We started saving up end-pieces of bread and stuck them in the Burro Bag in the freezer. When we got a full bag, we’d head south to the park to hand-feed and stroke the wild animals. (Warning: This is NOT a suggested activity with bison or grizzlies.) We never again had to wash our van after a visit to the Wild Life Loop.
Moral of this story: If you stay in your glass house, and only view the world from inside your locked vehicle, you will get slimed. But by getting out among those who are different, you may find you will delight in their company.
Full Moon Hike, Report
It wasn’t a snipe hunt after all.
When I first arrived, a mere ten minutes early, there were eight ladies who’d gotten there before me — all in their 70′s, all birders. I wondered, not for the first time in my life, what I’d gotten myself into, and kept watching the parking lot for my friend to come join me in my awkwardness. About 75 people came to the night hike, with my friend being one of the last to arrive because she thought it was located someplace else with a similar name v.s. a couple of blocks from her house. Still, she came in time for the start of the hike, and I was very glad to share the adventure with a friend. Families with small children also came. I think I unintentionally impressed my friend with my star and sky knowledge, mostly from teaching kids and family campingtimes, even though I feel I know so little myself and constantly want to learn more. For instance, I know that you can see all Seven Sisters if you have 20-20 vision. These days, I can only see four of them clearly with the rest pleasant blurs. And I know the distinction between jets, satellites, and the International Space Station. We saw some of the former two soaring overhead.
We hiked silently, and without flashlights, through the woods and along a lake where we heard (but couldn’t see) trumpeter swans and Canadian geese. It was interesting to see in the dark woods even before moonrise lit the night. I also found that a lot of my senses went foot-ward as the terrain changed from pavement to leaves and tree roots, to pavement again, and then to flattened tall grass and crunchy patches of old snow. At first I didn’t trust myself and watched my footing, but there were so many interesting things to be watching at night, in the woods, that it didn’t take long after our start for me to not to bother looking groundward.
We star-gazed out in the meadow, with two telescopes, and identified constellations and planets. I learned about really cool star apps of which got my little ole heart a-racing. When the moon glowed over the horizon, we discussed her for a bit, and then as the stars gave way to moon’s light, we headed back to the entrance along a paved road.
Would I do this again? You betcha! Only next time, I’ll bring even more friends, and be more prepared with more star knowledge and a constellation-reading app. Very cool.
Full Moon Hike
I’m going on a Full Moon Hike tonight, sponsored by the Kellogg Bird Sanctuary. Although I know nothing more about this than the words “hike” and “night,” I can hardly wait until dark.
I figure I must be half-cat since I mostly prefer natural light to, say, flashlights. When an electrical light is on out of doors, my eyes adjust only to that one small area where the light shines. How creepy is that? What lies beyond that lit circle? If I were a cartoonist, there would probably be lots of eyes watching me. I prefer my eyes adjusted to the darkness, where I can see shadows moving and identify shapes.
Yet, we are talking full moon here. I have been around on full moon nights before, sometimes the light is so bright I can read by it. Unfortunately, there’s not much snow on the ground right now, so we won’t get that tripled-brightness which a full moon on white snow gives. Still, it will be enough light for bumbling humans to trampse around in.
Maybe I’ll slip away from the group… after dropping a hint here and there about snipes and snipehunts. I’ll trail behind behind the ones who depend on flashlights to light their way… and then take a silent shortcut through the woods… and then…
Wait one minute. Am I creating a story scene here, or remembering snipe hunts of my past, or what they might have been like?
One of the coolest things about writing fiction is that you can play the “what if” game, and it doesn’t even have to stay in your head. You can get it onto paper (or flashdrive or iphone). Plus, you constantly have conversations with people who don’t even exist. In the normal world, this would be a crazy person posting such thoughts. But in the writing world, this IS normal.
Never let go of your imaginative ways.
2012 Writing Goals
Each January, I come up with writing goals for the year. Each December, I review them. My critique group does this with me. It holds us accountable at the beginning of the year, while they bring tears of laughter with “what was I thinking!” by year’s end. Still, I continue making them each year, simplifying them, and encouraging others to do likewise.
Although my critique group got an earful (“eyefuls,” actually, since it’s an online group), I’ll sum up my goals here into just two: 1) finish seven stories (four of them MG; three which are significantly started); and 2) submit when appropriate.
These are not your hopeful and difficult resolutions to break. They are goals to reach for, and ones which I believe I can make – that is, unless another catastrophe blows our way this year. These goals do not include related reading I’ll do (e.g., fictional books in my field, books on craft, research, etc.), or life goals (quit eating chocolate, run five miles a day, lose 600 pounds, etc. — nope, those actually be resolutions, not goals).
So… what are your writing goals for 2012?
May this year be the year of reaching them all.
It’s Boxing Day!
In England, the day after Christmas, lords of the manor would box up leftover food and/or special presents for the help and others. I don’t remember when we Carlsons latched onto the holiday. Perhaps it was a lovely, giving continuation of Christmas day, a relaxing post-holiday family time. It certainly wasn’t that we had servants. Celebrating Boxing Day may have been part hereditary. My mother-in-law was British, and if I go back five generations on my mother’s side, we’re English, too. Whatever the original reason for our family celebrating – and we don’t need much reason – it’s Boxing Day today, and that puts a smile on all our faces. When we lived in Buffalo, NY, the day after Christmas, we would head the forty-five minutes north to Niagara-on-the-Lake, a quaint town with kiss of English to it.
Boxes.
Presently, there are boxes lying around every room of our house – once filled with Christmas gifts, some half-filled still with cookies or treats. Half of our family have boxed up their things and left for their own home. Our next door neighbor boxed up their belongings and abandoned their house to the bank. It was too hard for them to stay in a house where their tree-cutter died in the aftermath of last May’s storm. We Carlsons have boxed up our belongings many a time in various moves. We’ve lost several boxes in each move. On one move, it took us four years to sell our house. We rented that house, and lived in a work-provided house until we finally found a buyer – for about a third the price we’d paid for it. Because of the severe drop in price, we had to take out a second bank loan in order to sell our house, and wait eight years to build up enough finances (with help from relatives) in order to purchase another one of our own. From our last house move seven years ago, I know there are several of our boxes which must have landed in a distant town with the other person whom the moving company moved in the same moving van. Oh, why have I craved my foot bath-massager for over seven years v.s. just going out and buying another one?
One woman I knew would box up and tape down things she hadn’t used in a while. If after six months she hadn’t dug into the box, she’d take it to the Salvation Army. We have many new things this year. I think I’ll go fill up a couple of those boxes with things I haven’t used in a while, but I don’t think I’ll wait six months to see if I’ll use anything in it. After all, I’ve done without my foot bath-massager just fine.
I wonder what my characters are doing on Boxing Day? Would they give to the poor? Would they be traveling home? Would they be at work, like any other day? What are their wishes and wants on this day after Christmas?
Wishing you each a happy Boxing Day, spent with family, or spent giving away your excess, or spent writing!
Wool Sweaters Update
Just so you know… when you wash 3 second hand sweaters a couple times, and beneath your 50 year old laundry tub are five twists in the steel drain pipe capable of trapping bunches of washed out wool, plan on adding a couple hundred dollars’ plumbing bill to the cost of those inexpensive sweaters. (Can you hear my sigh from where you are?)
Ugly Sweater Parties
Part I
Kids today are so lucky. So are adult kids. Now and again, one of our own grown kids goes to Ugly Sweater Parties. It’s apparently a huge hit, and very amusing.
Part II
Because one of my characters was a knitter, I took a knitting class last month. (Authenticity and all.) At the class, for the first time I heard of felting. One woman talked about getting 100% wool sweaters at second-hand stores and felting (shrinking) them for mittens. Since I was already taking a Mitten Knittin’ Class, I didn’t see the sense in that, but wool felted slippers! Now that was a way to keep Michigan feet warm in winter!
Part III
So I went to a store and got a 100% wool sweater for $3.99. WHAT A DEAL for slippers! However, this sweater is so beyond ugly, that I love it. And that fact drives my husband nuts-o. He says it’s a good porcupine sweater — ugly and too scratchy to hug. Hmm.
Part IV
I told said son that I bought such an ugly sweater that he’d want to fight me for it to take home for his parties. Later I talked to his brother who informed me that the ugly sweaters which win at parties are ones like with a cat in a Santa hat. Huh? Those are CUUUUUUTE!
Part V
So now I’m having an Ugly Sweater Party all by myself — and grinning away like an ugly sweater contest winner.
Part VI
A couple of weeks ago, I went to a middle school where the inevitable question arose: “Do you ever run out of ideas?” HA! NEVER! And, by the way, I call finny-dib-dibs on the ugly sweater storyline!
Part VII
So get out there, have fun with life, find your own “ugly sweater,” and start writing.
December 2011 Writing Challenge
My NaNoWriMo Skeleton — after deleting junk and moving things like backstory, character interviews, etc. to other files — is sadly in need of carbs. Some scenes I thought I’d written were no more than scene plots. (Picture a “Home Alone” palms to face slap.) Then, this morning, after not thinking or writing on it for three whole days, a couple more scenes came to mind: carb scenes.
I usually do word-count challenges here, but after NaNoWriMo, I’m ready for a change. My writing goal for this month is to spend ten hours each week for the rest of December working on my WIP from WriMo: 40 hours of writing or revising to the end of the month. Simple, right? (Good thing the web cam isn’t on, or you’d see me chewing down my nails. Finding time for me to write in December is like trying to milk rocks. Sigh.) So…? Any takers?
