Packing Up the Old... Headed to the New

Today I'm headed to both my new classroom and my old one. I'm hoping to unload two carloads full of crates and boxes into my new classroom. Then I'm going to clear out (more) stuff from my old classroom, eat lunch (with my "old" colleagues) in the middle of the clutter-fest... followed by boxing up more of my clutter.

As I was clearing out and organizing last week, I threw away a lot of stuff, gave away stuff and packed up stuff. It made me think of the impasse I've reached (recently) as a writer.

I've been plagued with rejections from agents. Several of them were personalized. Two of them praised my writing... my manuscript just doesn't fit their current needs. 

That's the old.

A couple of days ago I began reading the book Dreamland Burning by Jennifer Latham. The format (back and forth between two characters living in two different eras--along with the two storylines--inspired my inner core to budge. I've been stagnant as a writer for a month, mired in self-doubt and despondency.

But no more. Now I'm looking to the new. After my former classroom is cleared out and my report cards are finished, I'm moving forward.

How about you? Are you stuck in the past or are you plodding forward?

Taking a Risk

          Reading Mary Horner's recent post--about taking a risk and sharing with students/the audience--made me think of writers who share themselves in their writing.


         Some of my favorite authors--Anne Lamott, Augusten Burroughs, Rick Bragg, Mary Karr--are writers who share ...everything. They're brutal. They cut themselves open and lay bare their bones--all the skeletons in their closets come clattering out.


          In May I joined a dozen or so other St. Louis writers for the Listen to Your Mother show. We got up on stage and shared our lives. Some of what we shared made people laugh, and other stories made the audience cry. Almost always I lead with my funny bone, but this time, I didn't.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5yGkJP7Sy8


          If you click on the link above, you'll be able to see me in all six minutes of my splendor. However, consider yourself forewarned. The photographer was ill on the day of the show, and so some of the videos got screwed up. In real life, people often mistake me for Halle Berry, so when you see someone who looks quite different from that, understand: the camera guy had problems...  

        Speaking of risk (again)--I'm friends with some writers who willingly share all sorts of things on paper, and yet when it comes time to share their writing with a live, breathing audience, they hesitate balk. These are writers whose talents are wickedly amazing ...and yet many people miss out on enjoying their gifts because of their reluctance to share at book signings and other events.


        Was there a time when you shared with an audience/family member/friend and the results were encouraging? Perhaps if my shy writer friends hear stories that ended up on a positive note, they might share the next time they get a chance...


       

Everything (Okay, SOME Things) I know, I Learned From a Puppy

        Our house is no longer a quiet, peaceful place. Four new paws patter and clatter across our floors. My husband and I already had two senior dogs, but a puppy changes things completely...


       Here are some things I've already learned in the very short time (24 hours) we've had Radar:

• It's a good thing to chew on bark. Radar--no matter how I try to divert him in a variety of ways--loves to get a piece of bark/a stick/a hunk of sod and chew on it. I pick him up and move him to another part of the yard, but he keeps returning to get his "prize" (or a different one--after all, there's an endless supply of things to slobber on in the backyard).

       If I had the same amount of persistence as that little dog, perhaps I'd be a best-selling novelist by now. (And if I chewed on bark instead of chocolate, I'd be skinny and successful!)


 

• Get rid of the bad stuff. How many times a day can a puppy pee and poo? Yesterday, the count was 1,237. I'm hoping for a few less times today.

       Of course, as writers, the "bad stuff" we have to get rid of is self-doubt. Negativity. That internal editor that cuts us down. Evacuate that sh**. Now.

• Naps (and breaks) are good things. After spending time tormenting the older, cranky dogs and checking the food bowls and floors for stray pieces of food and trying to tear up the rug and gnawing on the furniture and checking for stray bits of food and knocking over the trashcan...it's time to take a break. A short nap is all it takes to recharge and reenergize.

       When we're immersed in a writing project--whether it's a short piece or a novel-long manuscript--we have to step away. Relax. Do something different. And then get back to it...


        Now I'm off to play with the puppy ... (And if Blogger was cooperative, I would be including a couple of photos. Maybe it will get less persnickety later on.)








 

Some Soup for You!

       Yes, don't be alarmed by the exclamation mark in the title. It's so rarely used by me (I must leave ample room for ellipsis) and so over-used by some. (I try to convince my 3rd graders that unless an ambulance is about to run down their brother or sister, or unless they won the lottery, stick with a period or a question mark.)

      However, this soup is worthy of an exclamation mark. (And it will appease the Seinfeld fans, although my friend does not pattern herself after the Soup Nazi. She does not keep her recipes hidden in a wardrobe--she willingly shares her culinary secrets.)

      My friend the "chef" calls this delectable dietary bombshell "Orange-Scented Carrot Vichyssoise" but I call it simply "Better Than --- Soup." (It's not better than great --- but is way better than mediocre ---.) She made it for one of our WWWP dinners, and we each left that evening with scratches and gouge-marks on our arms, as we tried to fight each other over the last spoonful several pounds heavier.

      I refuse to name her. That would be unfair, because if I did, she would be flooded with requests for the recipe. You will just have to troll the internet in search of the recipe...

       The title of this post was going to be "Tumeric, Anyone?" because as I was making it, I was thinking if I could leave out some of the ingredients or substitute some. Leeks? Couldn't I use onions instead? Tumeric? I don't have any and I've never even used that spice...couldn't I leave it out? How about using milk instead of heavy cream?  (Okay, I admit it. I was all about the cream, and didn't even entertain the notion of substituting milk for it.)

        But when I tasted the one bowl I allowed myself (I poured the rest into a container for my daughter, to avoid the temptation), I swooned over the layers of flavors. The leeks, the carrots, the chicken stock...the tumeric...the orange zest...the honey, the nutmeg...And I realized that without just one of those ingredients, it would have fallen flat.

        Can we leave out the passion we have for our art--whether it is painting or photography or writing--if we're having a lackluster session? Can we leave out some of the complexity of our characters when we're writing fiction? Can we omit some of the emotional layers in order to shortcut to the end if we're crafting nonfiction? 

        Of course not.

       And now, I'm off to lick my bowl clean...

           

Paddling Along

       Sometimes the waters push at you, and you must expend a great deal of effort to stay your course.

       Other times, you are able to coast along. The waters are tranquil--perhaps even shallow--and you can lie back and relax.

   
         Right now my "real" job is pushing and pulling at me. The waves are rough, leaving me exhausted most of the time. I have time to--sometimes--work on my writing, but it's only in small spurts. Lacking stamina, I am letting my "longish" project coast along. However, I am doing some mental writing. Small currents are meandering around in my brain. At some point, enough will accumulate to form a swell...

       The kayak pictured above belongs to "Doc" Savage. This summer he paddled 340 grueling miles along the Missouri River, from Kansas City to St. Charles. He paddled to raise money. He paddled for puppies. (Half of the money that was pledged went to Love a Golden Rescue. The other half went to a charity in his hometown.)

      If you'd like to read about this event, go to MR340. It was beyond tough...

      And now--what kind of "tough" things have you tackled lately? Sioux's nosey nature wants to know...

Creating Engaging Characters

       Meth. The science behind it is intriguing. The business of it is fascinating. And thanks to Vince Gilligan and Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul, I get to immerse myself in the life of a meth-maker. All because of the show Breaking Bad. On August 11 the final (sixth) season begins. (Sigh.)

       This show begins with a high school chemistry teacher--a very nice guy who never breaks the law--and after finding out he has a horrible cancer and mere months to live, decides to make meth (really pure meth) to take care of his wife, his high school-aged son (who has cerebral palsy) and his not-yet-born daughter after he dies. What began in season one with just drug manufacturing and distributing has spiraled out of control. Murder. Horrible choices. And lots and lots of lies.  

      As writers, we have to create interesting people when we craft fiction. We can't just have a person in our story go instantly from calm and rational to homicidal. Internal things have to start percolating. Tiny fuses have to be lit so when the explosion comes, the reader is left charred right along with the character.

         What shows or movies did you love (or do you love) that immerse you in a different life?  (And if you do watch Breaking Bad, don't tell me about how it ends. I don't have cable/satellite, and will have to buy the DVD once it comes out.)

Writing...It's a Sticky Thing

         I just finished leading a two-day workshop for teachers (from two schools) in my school district. It was exhausting  rewarding and fun.

       The workshop centered on teaching writing in math, science and social studies. The new Common Core Standards  will officially begin in our state in the 2014-2015 school year. The Common Core will replace the state tests for most of the country and will signal the demise--at the end of this school year--of the idiotic unrealistic  too-tough current MAP test, which is what Missouri students and teachers have had to endure use as far as assessment for too many years.

       Hey! Writing should not be done only from 11:00-11:20 anymore. That's was our theme song for the past two days.

        Writing is stickier than math (there's always a correct answer and a set way of finding the answer in math). It's more elusive than science or social studies, too. Knowing how to nurture a student's creativity, and figuring out how to teach students to loosen the reins on their writing voice...that's something that often flummoxes teachers.

       The mind-boggling thing about this workshop was how many talented voices emerged. This workshop was underwritten by the Gateway Writing Project, a National Writing Project site, and writing is always a part of every workshop/meeting/national conference--it's never pure lecture with passive participants with the NWP. Over the past two days, teachers wrote "I am from" poems and memoir vignettes and a variety of other pieces. The talent and distinctness of their voices was amazing. Often, teachers are sometimes reluctant to share their personal writing, but this time, it was not the case.

a student writer...

       If you're a writer, when did you first figure out you enjoyed writing? Or do you--like me--still find it to be a grueling, hair-pulling screamfest (at times)?

Chicken Tonight

         When my daughter was growing up (she's now in her thirties), one of her favorite dinners involved the jarred Chicken Tonight sauce.  I think Ragu made it, and it was delicious. Pop off the lid, cube up some chicken and cook it, then pour on the sauce. It was a white sauce, with a few vegetable bits floating around, and a hint of wine...well seasoned and good-to-go straight from the jar.

        My oldest child and I were bemoaning the fact that this sauce has been discontinued for years. After our talk, I was determined to find a recipe that would replicate the scrumptious stuff.

       I found several online, experimented...and last night I was successful. 

       If you feel like you've been "discontinued" as a novelist because you haven't worked on your book for a while...if you feel like you've been taken off the shelves because you haven't gotten any acceptance letters recently...if you feel like you've vanished from readers' eyes because you haven't blogged in a while--experiment. Check out the calls for submissions. Try something.

       You might find you have started a delicious piece of writing...


Chicken Tonight Redone

1-2 carrots, diced small
1/2 onion, diced
mushrooms (6 or 7), cut into small pieces
2 cans of cream of mushroom soup
1 can of evaporated milk
sherry

Sautee the vegetables until soft but not browned. (I cooked them in a pan and then softened them in the microwave.) Add the mushroom soup and the milk. Add a splash (and then a couple more splashes) of the sherry. Add salt to taste. This sauce, when some cubed, cooked chicken is thrown in, makes a wonderful entrée...it can be served over noodles or rice. 

The Inside Secrets

       If you were inside my house last night, with all the firecrackers going off, you would have been welcome by Foley, our hospitable Golden Retriever. Always the charming host, he would have paced around you...endlessly. If you spent the night, he would have scratched at your bedroom door to get in, and then would have scratched on the door to get out...over and over and over.

      Foley is storm-/firecracker/rustle-of-leaves phobic. He paces and pants and isn't comfortable anywhere when thunder or fireworks disturb the airwaves ...unless he's drugged. We avoided the dispensation of the doggie downers last night--but tonight, it may be a different story. 

     Of course, my neighbors have cleared all the furniture out of their house so they can fill it with firecrackers the holiday is over, my neighbors obviously do not have a calendar and have no knowledge it is now no longer the 4th of July, so I'm sure tonight will be just as noisy as last night quiet.

       How did you celebrate the holiday? What are your hopes for the United States? America is a wonderful country but it's far from perfect.

      And hey, speaking of perfection...If you're in the moooood to read some perfect advice about writing, go have some coffee with your muffin. My guest post was inspired after reading James Lipton's memoir. (He's the host of Inside the Actor's Studio.)




      Check it out. You might find something of substance there...

 

It Ain't Got a Thing If It Ain't Got That...Rhythm

        Every almost every time I hear a singer from England or Australia or France or any other foreign place, I am always amazed by the fact that any trace of an accent has disappeared. (The most recent time, it was Chris Martin of Coldplay, who's married to Gwyneth Paltrow; he's the son-in-law of the late Bruce Paltrow, the man who brought us "St. Elsewhere," one of my favorite TV shows.)

        And then I contemplate that the rhythm is the king. The rhythm of the song dictates what the voice does.

        It's like that with writing as well. Sometimes a slow, meandering flow is appropriate for the story/article/poem.  Other times, an intense, more hammering rhythm is called for.

        I'm leaving you with a Ruthie Foster video, and giving you a link to Jennifer Brown Banks' blog, 'cause in a comment she (Jennifer, not Ruthie) reminded me of how much I love Foster's singing.

 

With a Little Hindrance From My Friends

          This week we had our writing critique meeting. The meeting of five wild women wielding pens. The WWWPs.

          Three of us had submitted to the same anthology. Two of us had not heard (or so I thought) . Privately, a couple of weeks ago, I had told the more brazen of the other two of the submitters that I had already heard. I heard the next day--the day after I had submitted my story. Seeing the name of the anthology on an email that quickly was definitely surprising.

photo by mbgrigby

         The other writer-friend I didn't tell, until I knew she had sent hers in, as she is sometimes of the thinking, 'Well, they'll take yours and hers...why would they want mine?' But on Wednesday I discovered that my shy friend had indeed sent in her piece.

         It was then that I admitted that I had already heard. "They emailed me the next day. 'No,' they said. It stunk so bad, they had to burn rubber getting away from the stench--that's why they answered so quickly."

        When the shy submitter said she hadn't heard, I replied, "Well, that's a good sign, because apparently if they don't like it they move fast." Then I looked at the other one, and she had her hand over her mouth and had her head ducked down...like she was trying to hide from me.

          She had heard as well. They were considering her story. She said, "I didn't want to say anything because I knew you'd be mad."

          I wasn't mad, although I did shout out my favorite phrase in mock ticked-offness. But that was all a façade. I wasn't angry with her. Instead, I felt bad.

          Talking wryly about my rejections is something I do, right along with celebrating the times I get a "yes." And when my friends get their work accepted, I'm thrilled. If it's a publisher/editor that I failed at, I might throw a colorful phrase at the friend, but I'm never serious about it. Rarely am I emotionally invested in a piece to the point that I get furious when I hear "no" because I know that at some point, I'll change the piece and regurgitate it and then submit it to another publisher.

         So if you have any shouting-from-the-rooftop to do, let me know. My writing friends help me so much--either in person or via the blogosphere--and I never want to hinder or inhibit any of them.

         Ever.  

Kill Your Inner Critic

cartoon by Doug Savage, of Savage Chickens fame

          Everyone has one. Everybody has an inner critic. Sometimes they rear their ugly head when we look in the mirror and spy the two honkin' huge zits that sprung up on our face. (What kind of cruel god would give me hot flashes AND zits at the same time?)

          Sometimes they tromp on in when we're writing. And instead of saying, "Yikes! You are one hot mess,' they say, "That story sucks."

          Most writers have their own ideas and strategies when it comes to rough drafts. Many just hunker down and get the story/article/novel down on paper. Even if you think some of your word choices could be improved upon. Even if you know there are huge holes in the piece. Just get it down, and worry about fixing it up after the first draft is done.

         Some even conjure up an image of their inner critic. Mine is a middle-aged lady. She never wears anything except a faded, thread-bare housecoat. On her feet--dingy slippers. She smokes, and the ash of her cigarette is so long, it's always on the verge of dropping off onto the floor. And she wears glasses--pink-tinged plastic frames. Cat-eye glasses.

         When I have to explain my piece to Cat-Eye Lady, when I have to rationalize my choices to her, my writing becomes stronger. I either become more convinced, or my explanation results in me heading down a different trail with my tale.

         So, how do you handle your inner critic? Do you kill them off (I'm overly fond of "death by wood chipper") or  do you embrace them?

Finding What's Missing

     Oh, many things are missing these days. My youth. My skin's elasticity. My once-perky parts' perkiness. Viggo from the newest Hobbitt movie. (No Viggo? What's the point of watching it?)

     And this morning, I found part of a rough draft went AWOL. Last night, I guess I fell asleep in front of my computer. When I shut my laptop down, I must have neglected to save the work I had done. (Hopefully the stuff I "recreate" will suck less than what I forced out last night.)

     In some of my pieces, what's missing is easy to spot. The beginning needs more oomph. The ending is abrupt or lame. Too few ellipsis. (Yeah, like that could ever happen with me.) Some rocky transitions that need smoothing out.

     Other times, everything seems tight and well-crafted...but editors have a different (wrong) opinion. It's a shame that so many publishers and editors make sooooo many mistakes (she said with her tongue jammed firmly into her cheek).

      What are you missing these days? (You interpret it any way you choose.)

       And since I did watch a 27  3  hour movie, waiting for just a glimpse of Viggo, here's a parting picture...

photo by robertnkellypattinson

Take a Few Whacks At It--Like a Pinata

       Late last week I had a critique night looming over my head, and nothin' to share. Wednesday evening would be here all-too-soon.

       Also pushing my procrastinator's button was an anthology's deadline. I wanted to submit something, but had not started anything until Saturday night, when I sat down and wrote...a whopping three sentences.

      Crapola.

      On Sunday evening, instead of working on lesson plans when I had some spare time, I added to my piece. Now it was about a third or so done.

      Monday evening, Adam Levine was beckoning me ("The Voice" was on NBC) my muse cooperated a bit, and I made a bit more headway. But still, no end in sight..

      On Tuesday night, I got within sight of the finish line. However, it lacked some oomph here and there and it lacked cohesiveness.

      When I woke up on Wednesday morning, I was able to finish it and do some much-needed polishing. After some extremely-needed critique from the WWWPs last night, I submitted my story...just a few minutes ago.

photo by starmunki

      Last week the piece felt really forced. There wasn't anything easy about it. However, after working on it for a few days, and taking several whacks at it, the words busted loose...just like candy from a piñata.

      When the words are dammed-up, let your writing sit for a day or two. Make several attempts. And if the writing doesn't flow then, take a big stick...and whack at it until something busts loose...

Using Evil for Good Purposes

        The old adage--"If you've got lemons, make lemonade"--can be applied to writing. Really.

photo by Herman McLeod

        I'm working on a longish project that's still shortish. It's a midget that has dreams of being as tall as an NBA-er. But it's, sadly, still 3'6".

        Stuck in a rut, I recently had a couple of unpleasant-bordering-on-awful events slam into me. The first one I'm planning on using in my longish writing piece. It propelled the storyline forward, and got me completely out of the ditch. Instantly. Immediately, I knew that this was what I needed as an impetus.

        The other "stuff" that happened? How am I going to spin that into something positive?

        Well, I hope that some day, I will have a book on a bookstore shelf that I've written or co-written. And that book will be proof that I persevered.  

        What real-life events have you used--to your advantage--in your writing? Share. It's just you and me...

Take a Break...and Zentangle

       When I am writing my fingertips off, I do weird things.

        I will "role play" a movement, to see how my rolls roll, so I can describe on paper how my character rolls.

       I drink a lot of water/tea so I have to void a lot, so I can avoid getting stuck permanently to the couch in front of my laptop.

       And sometimes I take a break from writing and Zentangle. What in the he** is Zentangle, you ask?  Google it. But be prepared. If you're a doodler, you'll become addicted...quickly.

This a piece I did for my son.

This is another view of the same piece. (My son's a musician.) This one looks much lighter---
blame the photographer (me).

How about you?  What do you do when you take a break from doing report cards writing? (Not that I need any more tools in my "task avoidance" toolbelt...Seriously.)

 

Super Writers

My son-in-law and my granddaughter...Daddy obliged his daughter and posed as the Hulk to her (I think) Ironman.
Can you tell this was a Superhero Christmas?

As writers, we have to think of ourselves as superheroes. We have to slip on our cape to shield ourselves from the rejection so that it doesn't hurt too much...

We have to put on our power belt, so that we can get rejuvenated and replenish our energy supply when we run low... 

And we have to strap on our photon-shooters/arm-blaster thingys so we can shoot down our inner critic who whispers in our ear, "Your writing sucks...You'll never make it as a writer. Just give up, why don't you!"

If you want to be inspired about a goal you really can achieve during 2013, check out Cathy C. Hall's post at The Muffin today, entitled "Just for Today, For a Writer."  And hopefully you're having a great start to this new year.

Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Embrace Menopause

       The other night--a "school night"--I was up from 12:30-3:30. (See reason #9.) I started thinking what were the benefits of being menopausal. And here they are.

1.  The hair on your leg starts getting sparser (but more unpredictable).

2.  You're never cold in the winter. (The hot flashes ensure you're always dragging around your own portable heating unit.)

3.  Your breasts become fashion accessories. Sling 'em over your shoulder for a scarflike look in the back, let 'em hang down like a scarf in the front, or tuck 'em into the waistband of your pants if you so desire. They are so versatile!

4.  Your family, friends and colleagues steer clear of you; often, you will get your way without even pressing the issue because everyone fears for their life if they cross you.

5.  Evening entertainment is cheap now. No need to go to a movie to see something scary. Just sit on your couch with a mirror that magnifies, and start plucking away at the stray hairs on your face. It will make you scream! It will make you shudder. It will petrify you.

6.  You can get a part-time job at Hershey's, if you need to. Your nose now becomes so finely-tuned, you can sniff out chocolate within a six-block radius.

7.  If you're facing an armed criminal, you'll never get shot in the head or the face. As you're coming up to a corner, there's no need to inch your head out to take a peek, since your stomach precedes you wherever you go. Your poochy gut arrives a few minutes before you, like the QEII cruiseship, "announcing" your arrival.

8. Lots of weird things happen--health-wise--but fear not. It's never anything serious. Your doctor will listen to your litany of symptoms, look at your chart, and say, "It's your age." (And then you take the speculum and use it to gouge holes out of his face.)

9.  When you wake up in the middle of the night and cannot go back to sleep--for several hours--you can get lots accomplished. I worked on a submission when I was up the other night.

10.  Because of all the facial hair that is sprouting up, you can now get work as a character actor. In television shows. As an old man...

How about you?  What would you like to add to this list?

Before Cat Stevens...

       Before there was Cat Stevens and John Sebastian and Richie Havens and John Lennon, there was Glen Campbell.

Glen Campbell--photo by m_g_ gray

       It still flummoxes me, but I had a crazy crush on Glen. I loved his music, I loved his voice, and I found him physically quite attractive (as hunky as a 10-year old could hunker together, that is).

       When the movie True Grit came out, I ran, screeching, to the movie theater to see it. (Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but I did have to strap on my drool bucket.) I drank in every moment of every scene he was in.

       During the last quarter of the movie, I was devastated. (spoiler alert) The Glen Campbell character died! The nerve of them! In my young mind, it was as if Campbell was now dead.

       Now Glen has Alzheimer's. He still plays concerts, but is supported by three of his children. They keep him from faltering too far afield. When he finishes a song, then goes into the intro of that same song, they gently remind him. He has a teleprompter, to help ensure he doesn't forget the lyrics. Unfortunately, I know that soon, he will not be able to continue. I know, because my dad had Alzheimer's. It's a horrible disease, but it takes the worst toll on the family of the afflicted one.

        As writers, we have to continue no matter how tough it gets. When we get a rejection, we have to brush ourselves off and send off another submission. When we stumble, we have to get up and keep moving ahead.

         Who do you admire who--like Glen Campbell--is the epitome of perseverance?  Tell their story. Now.

Carry Yourself Like a Champion

      In less than a week, our dog Foley will be prancing around Purina's huge arena. It's the national Golden Retriever show, and when he makes his entrance, all eyes will be on him glazed over; they will be impressed aghast, because Foley does not look like the typical, show-quality Golden Retriever. So, even though it is only the "Rescue Parade," it seems our pooch will get a rosette to commemorate the occasion, and for one brief moment, he will run with the thoroughbred dogs.

      Once in a while, we've captured Foley looking like the typical Golden--head up, eyes alert, and posed in the perfect stance. Those times always involve a ball held out of the camera's view, because the only thing our dog loves is playing fetch. More than eating. More than taking a walk. Hurtling after a ball is his passion.

        As writers, we have to carry ourselves like dog show champs. We have to fluff and primp up our drafts, and prance from critique session to critique session, making sure our confidence is always intact. We have to keep whispering subliminal messages to ourselves, to ensure we don't get battered or beaten by critics and rejection.

       What kind of champion canine is your dog? What do they excel at?

or

       What kinds of things do you tell yourself to keep yourself on the writing path?