It's been awhile.

I haven't posted for a while, and thought it was time I got back onto the mule. Heeyah.

Which is funny, because the writing's been off the mule, too. Sporadic bursts here and there, like milk from the nose and just as attractive. Even though I know what's behind my inability to surge forth and conquer, I haven't been able to get past this hobby horse of an obstacle. You'd think my fear of leaving nothing of consequence behind after my death would at least match my fear of not meeting my own expectations.

Has the well run dry? Is that it? All I've got has been spilt onto the page? I'm an empty vessel, tabula rasa?

Good question.

I hope you weren't expecting me to have an answer. If you're here for more questions, though, I've got those by the barrel, mister.

Here's one:
What's the point of stories? Why write? For that matter, why read? In the larger picture, I mean. We all have our personal reasons for why we do what we do. But on a societal level, what's the true value of fiction? I understand and wholly support finding a path to others' experience. But do you think it works? Are we becoming any more compassionate as a species after centuries of fine, evocative works to learn from? If not for finding compassion and mutual understanding, what's the why of literature?

I can't fool myself into thinking I need an answer laid out before I'll be productive again; even my hindbrain knows a flimsy excuse when one piffles about in front of it. But it's a question worth asking, no? Any thoughts?

Frank Darabont is directing this new AMC series based on Robert Kirkman's epic graphic novel.

I'm positively salivating over the potential of this show, and even more excited about how careful the people creating it seem to be. The production values appear immense, and the solid intention to follow the spirit of the original stories and character arcs is admirable. AMC has already brought two highly-regarded shows to cable television, so we know the folks in charge have the sensibilities to allow great writing and production to come from the artists and craftsmen.
Check out the website for Making Of documentaries and the official trailer. If you feel strongly about the integrity of zombie tales told with heart and well, organs (hanging out all over the place), I think we'll both be happy on premiere night. (It's Halloween!) Verrry exciting.

http://www.amctv.com/originals/The-Walking-Dead/

Fancy Pants.

I've mentioned a few times the writer's workshop site I belong to: http://www.scribophile.com.

Lovely people, lovely feedback. It's a well-run site that's managed to retain its focus on writing while incorporating some social aspects (forums, scratchpads, profiles, email) that allow members to become even more attached to each other--a dangerous thing. But wonderful, when you need reader reaction to your work. I may be easing off daily onsite lurking in an attempt to spend more time actually writing, but that's certainly no fault of the site. The place is damned addictive, but my desire for achieving a more professional writery existence prods me like a duck with a sharp beak.

From what I hear, I'm not alone. Most writers don't have an online portfolio, using their blog instead to represent their writing to editors/agents. This, apparently, is not always the best strategy--particularly if said writers tend to blog about embarrassing body hair and/or the ugly sex they had the night before. Might work for Paul Feig, but do you really want to take the chance?

The scribophile site admins have answered this call and created a new, related-but-separate site called: http://scribblefolio.com.

This site isn't designed for direct interaction, but the creation of professional-looking profiles for writers to use as virtual business cards. No programming know-how necessary. None. I speak as someone who has trouble finding documents once I save them and I found the initial setup a breeze.

The site asks for basic information, then allots space for your writerly bio/introduction/stream-of-consciousness rambling (whatever you feel like throwing on there, professional intentions or otherwise.)

The fun part is choosing a motif from a list of about a dozen options. Each one is attractive, streamlined, geared toward a professional presentation. I hope the site adds designs over time with a bit more range, and perhaps some customizable templates, but for a brand-new site the current options are plenty to choose from and feel happy about.

Here's mine: http://lauriepaulsen.scribblefolio.com.

Rates are reasonable ($10/month), and the site is running a grand-opening special through Sep 6th. Easy way to find yourself suddenly in the possession of a professional internet presence. Kinda frightening, actually. I'm a little tipsy with power and can't wait to give someone important my site address.

edit: P.S.--Hey, 100th post!

The Dark Side of Addiction

I've been a member of a few different writing workshop websites over the past several years. At first agog at the idea of online communities I related to, I soon melded with the stated site missions, committing to group activities and trading critiques with other members. The lure of near-constant attention paid to my writing was irresistable. I bought in. Have bought in.

Even though I can see the danger of giving myself up to the power of semi-anonymous acceptance (and sometimes admiration) based on my writing and site contributions, the instant audience for my stories and tremendously alluring feedback loop, reality is hazy by comparison. Flat. Gray. How I imagine the world looks to someone considering dropping their sexaholic lifestyle.

Reality: these sites are only tools, by themselves not the path to development as a writer. Feedback from a variety of readers is valuable at a certain stage in the work's progress, but allowing myself to assign emotional importance to what others say about my work leads me astray--my work is no longer completely mine if I give others veto power over it.

I've stagnated as a storyteller, let myself settle for immediate gratification when I should have been working on the mundane but steady path to improvement, to becoming closer to being the writer I hope to be. I've exposed fragile, incomplete efforts to outsiders when what they needed most was my undivided attention and the private freedom to make them magical. I see these works as carcasses, half-eaten and spoiled in the heat of the sun. I've sold out, and I haven't gotten any money for it. I'm a fairly shoddy whore, really.

I've decided to pull back from my online communities--to shift my focus back onto writing as a learning process. I have too much unfinished work to keep coasting, reveling in the easy camaraderie of others who may or may not be quietly finishing their own work in the shadows.

Writing is a solitary endeavor for a reason.

Creativity is Peeeoople!

I usually have more dry spells than wet, when it comes to writing. I don't ascribe to the idea of writer's block, really--at least, not as a diagnosis. It's a symptom of fear. Fear and writers go together, I think. We dwell as a practice on all kinds of stuff--character, plot, setting, etc--and when we're nervous, we dwell on that, too. Our brains are programmed that way. But I'm veering a little off track.

I wanted to talk about creative juice, where we get it, why it never runs out. This is a little like trying to talk about God, so keep your expectations low.

I read a blog entry recently about the question of renewable creativity: http://www.scribophile.com/blog/this-post-is-a-result-of-an-impassioned-argument/

I appreciated the question, although most of the comments posted focused on the setting argument instead (I did too, at first--Shyamalan's a compelling guy.) But it's a mystery, where our ideas come from. Some people are just born seeing the world differently, or maybe their childhood shapes it for them while their minds are malleable. I don't think creative thinking requires genius. Or knowledge. But the inclination to ask questions is crucial. Curiosity led to every advancement our species has made; that ability to imagine the impossible and find a way there climbed us to the top of the food chain. Of course, now we're doing our darnedest to extinct ourselves, but that's another topic. Veering again.

Creativity. The more we use it the easier it comes, the better we use it. Like any effort, we learn through doing. We can read about it, study others' techniques, watch biographies of great thinkers, but until we dive in and find our own way to creating, it's circumstantial. So, trying is essential--and that can be scary. Trying opens up the possibility of failing, and nobody likes that.

So, fear #1: failure. It's a universal fear, no matter what we're trying to accomplish.

Fear #2? Success. Silly, right? Why be afraid of doing something well? What could be disturbing about that? I think enough of us have been here, too, to understand. If we do something well once, we've gotta do it again. And again. The bar's been set, the expectation put out there (for everyone to see)--we've lost the freedom to fail. So we think.

Where was I going? Right. Fear stomps on creativity, and creative endeavors generate fear. It's a vicious cycle. We can lessen the intensity a bit by keeping perspective, by honing skills so every new attempt isn't as much of a crap shoot, but the uncertainty is always there to some degree. We're not creatures comfortable with uncertainty. Those of us who are (not me) accomplish greatness.

Creativity is people! Like Charleton Heston said in "Soylent Green". We do feed off of each other. Ideas, inspiration, motivation, hope, competition. Creativity can exist in a vacuum, but it gets musty in there. Plus, all the noise. We have already the ability to think openly, but I think we regenerate through interaction with the world around us. Stimulation. Maybe we don't literally eat other people, but if we did we could use that experience, too. It all goes in the pot to be swished around, processed, mutated into something useful for our purposes as writers. Or cannibals, I guess.

My remedy for fear? Stimulus.

If you sit down at the keyboard and nothing bubbles up, don't panic. Like impotence, this is the worst possible reaction. Relax. It happens to everyone. Back off for a few minutes and find something new to cram into your brain. Walk outside, listen to music, find thought-provoking articles on the internet (www.bigthink.com), watch an inspiring video presentation (www.TED.org), do something mindless and physical--whatever fires your synapses, gets you going. And if nothing comes, even then? Well, it's hopeless, I guess. (No, it's not. It will come. I promise. Our brains can't help themselves.)

That's my two cents on the subject. Anyone have more ideas to help with writing motivation? I'd love to hear them.

Instinct versus intellect

Do you write from the gut or the head? Like on most spectrums, we'll fall somewhere in the middle--but if you had to choose a dominant approach, which would it be?

At a writer's conference last year, I attended a session presented by Eric Witchey (http://www.ericwitchey.com/.) He spoke about story structure, character motivation, writing practice--all valuable information well presented. The anecdote that stood out for me, though, was his telling of writer Naseem Rakha's experience writing her first novel (http://www.naseemrakha.com/pages/the_book.html.) As a writing teacher, he helped her through the early stages of writing her novel, but he said she came already equipped to write it well. She ended up selling the book for an impressive sum and contracting for several more; a wild success by any measure.

Then Witchey talked about that second novel--the dreaded sophomore effort. The instinctive writer, he says, will often panic when faced with that manuscript deadline from the publisher. You see, the instinctive writer doesn't know how he wrote his first novel. He didn't plan each scene, place each chapter just so for greatest tension--he followed his gut about storytelling, just let it pour out onto the page and then cleaned it up after the fact. He probably took years to complete his novel. And now the publisher wants the second manuscript in six months. Completed. Without a template to follow, this writer panics, unsure of how to recapture the magic.

And it is magic to this writer. All of those minute decisions writers make as they shape a new story regarding syntax, tone, rhythm, pacing--the gut writer successfully integrates these elements through osmosis. He grew up with story, reading, absorbing the rise and fall, the rhythm of the tale. When he writes his own, it's not about following rules--it just feels right.

I'm not saying Naseem Rakhu is one type of writer or another. I have no idea, and Witchey didn't allude either way. But his anecdote about her put me in that place for a moment. In my imagination, I could feel the mixed reaction of terror and exhilaration facing that kind of wondrous deadline; both a dream and nightmare galloping down the spine.

I'd write about the planner writer--the one who writes from the head, who outlines meticulously, creating detailed character sheets and 3D maps of their story's setting before even starting to write, and then writing draft after draft and tearing it apart and starting over, because well, writing a novel is work. This sort of deconstruction is necessary. Right?

I have no idea. I can't conceive of that kind of approach. This may be why I'm an unofficial novelist, not having actually finished any of them yet. When it comes to the thinking, I get foggy. I second guess. I lose the grit I should have between my teeth, like I have when I'm writing from the hip. The planning just sucks the life out of writing for me. I don't even discuss stories before I write them, because talking about them releases their mojo into the world--it's not mine, anymore, trapped in my head and thumping to get out.

So, if writing novels requires this "planning," how do I reconcile my aversion? How do I make the nasty outlining which is so good for my novel more palatable?

I don't think I do. I think each writer finds his own way, landing happily somewhere along that intellect-instinct spectrum and produces using methods he cobbles together from widespread sources to suit his own approach.

Some sources I've found:

*Noah Lukeman's titles:
"The Plot Thickens"
http://www.lukeman.com/theplotthickens/
"The First Five Pages"
http://www.lukeman.com/Titles/first_5_pages.htm

*http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php

*http://www.nanowrimo.org/

*from http://www.wikihow.com/Write-a-Novel :

There are several common approaches to writing:
Begin with the ending in mind. If you know the ending of the story, it can help you form the theme, the plot, the settings, the characters, and it can help you progress more easily toward that ending.
The big picture approach. Try to create the world (the overall setting and environment), and then build on it to create your novel. Create geography, races, towns, cities, capitals, cults, factions, governments, etc.
Dive in approach. You have the list of the idea, and you start writing while it's still fresh in your mind.
Start with characters. Create three or four characters and let the plot build up around them. This way will allow the characters to be more embedded in the plot.

I'm not saying stretching our comfort zone isn't a good thing--certainly, it is. Get out of that rut once in a while. Try something new.

But don't feel compelled to write outside of your self--your self is where you get your voice, how you bridge that gap between writer and reader. You don't want to compromise the one aspect of your writing that makes it unique, no matter how you get that story onto the page.

two apparently unrelated events

within the past week i've experienced two separate events--which i guess i do all the time, if you wanna be technical--but these two events have had a profound effect on me & the whole writing thing. okay, wait--three events. three separate, unrelated events. i'll address these in chronological order of occurrence:

the first: the online writing community i belong to started a spontaneous lovefest in one of the forums regarding my stories. i swear i had nothing to do with it. but the respect and affection i felt from so many people, so many other writers who i admire, just twanged me right in the heart. i felt in a solid way, and maybe for the first time, that i have a real chance of succeeding with the writing thing--if i can finish one of these novels. [that reminds me. i paged through my portfolio, and i've actually begun NINE novels. i've gotten significantly farther on three, so i tend to discount the others--but they're there. lurking. accusing with beady eyes and disappointed hearts. anyhoo, back to the point.]

the second: one of my cohorts is taking on a huge project this week. in the course of seven days, he's writing sixty thousand words of novel based on a list of thirty events created by another person (okay, me) unconnected with the actual writing of the story. thirty events not apparently related, but plotted together by him and being fleshed out into an honest-to-god novel as i type. the deadline is sunday evening at midnight (local time for him.) so far, he's posted about a third of the total story, and it's mindbending how good it is. the man blows my mind, and his fearlessness and rampant creativity and drive are damned inspiring. okay, so that's event two.

the third: today, through no special act of kindness of my own, i received a free copy of noah lukeman's newest book, How To Find & Keep A Literary Agent, from the author's website. i asked for a discount (because i'm poor right now,) and the admin was generous and classy and just sent me the book in full. maybe this happens all the time--i don't know--but not to me. this feels like another moment of serendipity, and combined with events one and two, i feel like the universe is trying to tell me something.

three separate events, all occurring inside of seven days, all leading me toward inspiration. i feel buffetted by the winds of fortune, by the wings of chubby muses as they giggle and poke me with their fat fingers, steering me toward a common goal, a shared message: WRITE, FOOLISH MORTAL. WHAT'RE YOU PIDDLING ABOUT FOR?

you'd think that would do it, wouldn't you? that and other coincidences that have led me to a place where i have the luxury of time, no money to distract me, the support of those around me and the inspiring acts of those i admire, and free books on furthering my efforts falling literally without price into my lap. i mean, what else do i want??

it's dawning on me that i want for nothing. all i have to do is write. i'd be foolish to ignore signs like these--that's the way to raise the ire of the powers that be. it'd be disrespectful. idiotic, actually. yep.

it occurs to me

that i done a boneheaded thing. i posted a lovely blog entry in a blog i never use. i designed it in 2008, and never posted once. until earlier this month. kooky. i must've eaten too many french fries that day, buzzed on peanut oil or something. so i'm double-posting because this blog i linked to deserves more than what i gave. cripes.

A quote from Kafka. (via Moral Ambiguity)
June 4, 2010 by lauriemariepea

Miss Moral Ambiguity never fails to tweak me in the chestular region–sometimes she touches the heart, others she thumps me in the solar plexis. can never predict. But she writes true and strong and chock full of personality and brains. I love this girl’s blog.


25th February 1912, "Hold fast to the diary from today on! Write regularly! Don't surrender! Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it every moment." Kafka. Yesterday, as I was out and about in Liverpool, I found myself in News From Nowhere again, flicking through the second-hand books. And what did I find? 'The Writer's Workbook, 2nd Edition', written largely in part by Edmund Cusick, the Head of the Imaginative Writing Departm

… Read More
via Moral Ambiguity

visit this blog at www.moralambiguity.wordpress.com

back in the saddle again

i've been trying to make headway with any of the three novels, stumped for a clear path forward and not trusting my own judgment with developing plot on that scale. in an effort to coerce myself to keep to it, i've not let myself work on anything else, including the flash fiction i enjoy so much--so i haven't really written much of anything since about, oh, february. color me stoppered up.

this weekend, a good writer friend challenged me to write something--anything--about 1500 words long, and to do it by tuesday. i decided that working on something--anything--was better than nothing at all, and finished a new first draft about an hour ago.

i love having written something! anything! the writing of it was stimulating, satisfying, FUN, and the finishing of it gave me a giddy head for a solid 15 minutes. yes, writing is my drug, apparently. i don't know if it's fabulous, or drivel, but at this point i'm okay with either. at least i can still do it. something. anything writing.

here's a wee excerpt:

The breeze moved the thick grass to trembling, ghostly fingers of the long and newly dead plucking at the blades planted above them. The sun paused before setting, and the air hung gray-blue over the graveyard. Tam swept away the tears caught in her lashes, her knuckles rough. The scars sat on her skin like flat, pink toads.

keep in mind, it's a first draft. the extra-interesting aspect for me is that i ended up writing straight dramatic fiction, no monsters. it's still pretty dark, but well, that's just who i am.

O, the yearning.

i've been reading "from where you dream" (http://www.robertolenbutler.com/writings/non-fiction/from-where-you-dream/)
by robert olen butler--a dude i admire and respect, and kinda wish i could stand next to sometimes in case that mojo rubs off on people in the vicinity. it's a book about the process of writing fiction, and while i've read several of these books and parts of several more, what's different about this one so far is the approach. most of these writing instruction manuals work from the outside in. butler's book works from the inside out.

he talks about how to access the creative zone, that untamed nether region of unreason somewhere between dreaming and not, and how to get there on a regular basis and channel that frame of mind into the writing. it's exciting and relatable stuff.

of the three sections in the book (lectures, workshop, analysis) i'm still working on the first, so i'll let you know if he gets weird later on. his third lecture is on the subject of yearning, from the character's perspective. we're all familiar with the question we ask while building our characters: what does this character want? yearning is about that, but even more it's about the intensity of that wanting. butler links the idea also to that of epiphany, or "shining forth."

from p. 40: "James Joyce appropriated from the Catholic church the term epiphany. An epiphany literally means 'a shining forth.' He brought that concept to bear on the moment in a work of art when something shines forth in its essence. That, he said, is the epiphany in a story or novel."

the idea sounds kind of vague in this tiny excerpt, but he goes on to clarify so the reader's heart is all atwitter. i won't quote more of his book here, but i'll hint at one of the reasons i like him so much: he acknowledges that genre writers never forget about the importance of yearning in their characters, while the literary writer's most common mistake is doing just that. they leave out the intensity in their exploration of the human condition--that's why so many people read genre, and why literature gathers dust on the shelf.

people want to feel like the world's at stake in their stories; too often, in literature the only risk involved is whether the main character finds happiness. or matching socks. either way, the reader needs more than that.

i want to find (and write) more stories that combine aspects of both: exciting plot and depth of character. why is it so hard to excel at one and not the other? they can't be mutually exclusive, can they?

feedback at the writing workshop

today was day 2 of a 3-day writing workshop sponsored by my town's community college. the workshop's been around for many years, has developed a huge following, and presenters travel from around the country to pass on sage advice (and if a writer's planned ahead, even to offer feedback on manuscripts.)
this is where i come in. today, i met a writer/editor with an illustrious history. he's a marketing maniac, tireless and steeped in industry knowledge. he's written novels, short stories, books on writing, and edited a well-known anthology blending horror and erotica, the HOT series. he's michael garrett.
(see his web page: http://www.writing2sell.com/)

his approach is decidedly old-school, nuts-&-bolts, pragmatism over artistic freedom. he suggests writing with your audience in mind, answering expectations with a satisfying product. some may say this approach is cynical, selling out. i can agree, but really, it all depends on a writer's ultimate goal. if you're writing for the creative exploration, to attain a higher level of expression, then mike's take isn't your bag. if you're looking to make your living by writing novels, he has some useful advice. he doesn't knock artistic sensibilities by any stretch; he acknowledges that publishing is a business first, and that most publishers won't have the resources to produce and market a literary novel that falls too far outside the mainstream to make back their investment. all right. that's fair.

admittedly, i'm torn over the entire issue. i love literary and genre, both. both are valuable, both serve different gods. both should be able to thrive, if the world was fair. i think we both know about that looming "if" hanging over our heads.

so, what'd i learn from mike today? (i'm calling him mike not because we immediately bonded over chicken salad sandwiches, but because i feel silly typing out "mr. garrett". also, i want to seem cool and with-it. is it working?)

mike gave me the gift of understanding the need for deep character development. i've heard for years about building character sketches, about creating characters so real they follow me around after i've done with them--but it never clicked. i never understood why i'd need more from them than what's shown in any particular story. (and why do those character sketch worksheets always ask what color socks your character wears? really? is this vital background information?) but mike made it real for me today. he played on my background in psychology, my tendency to pick people apart to understand them from the inside out. he made the idea of character an intriguing puzzle of motivations and desires, fears and pathology, and that clicked for me for the first time.

he made characterization real for me in the same way that my writing professor made thematic development real: if you internalize your message, if you follow your subconscious and include everything in your first draft--and by everything, i mean everything that comes to you as you write, almost a
free-association--then when you return to revise later and edit out what's not true to the story, what's not necessary to moving the thing forward, your original, instinctive message will magically remain and without hammering away at the reader like a monkey with a rock. the text will have somehow absorbed your intention. this is sounding a bit mystical, but really it's about allowing yourself the freedom to trust the process. by frontloading the prep work, you later have the luxury of trusting your instincts as you create that first draft. but i digress.

back to what mike said. so, i submitted a couple of short stories for analysis and feedback from a professional, and mike was assigned to my pages. he started out by explaining his approach to critical analysis, that he sees little benefit in pointing out what's working in a story, that his focus is on what needs help so he can help the writer improve. i'm perfectly okay with this, as i know we have precious few minutes together to discuss and i want the time to be packed full of his decades of experience, chock full of exclusive michael garrett wisdom. i think i did manage to keep a straight face at his next words, because honestly, they were a shock to me. but i'm savoring them now, hanging onto them until i someday finish my novel and find an agent and actually sell the thing. and believe me, that's gonna be years from now.

he said this: "having explained my approach, i'll say this: your level of writing is very impressive. you'll have no trouble finding publishers to take on your work."

wow. michael garrett, the guy who edited stephen king's first work, the guy who has edited countless manuscripts for other writers, who has written his own novels and short stories and blah blah blah--he's been around, right? and he said my writing was "very impressive." of course, he then proceeded to tell me where i've strayed from the righteous path elsewhere in my writing, namely story structure and my tendency toward the contemporary "open" ending, which feels weak to him--but still. i'm a little verklempt over the experience, even though i realize he likely planted that comment to encourage me, to soften the criticism over my story endings. but that's quite a brace against any hope of gushing on his part to then spend a second almost, well, gushing. gushing for a texan, i mean. ;) (i can say that--i'm from texas.)

i need a moment, here. okay: voldemort's horcruxes were neither whores nor cruxes. discuss.

now i gotta get my everlovin'-crap together and finish one of these novels. i know i'm my biggest obstacle to getting somewhere with writing--just gotta fricking do it, man. mike had some good advice about getting past that overwhelmed feeling when tackling the first novel, too. tomorrow, it begins. (that's not his advice. that's just me standing on the bluff with my cape flapping in the sea breeze.)

about to have written

the old litmus test for writers--"do you look forward to writing, or having written?"-- feels a bit like the catch question--"when did you stop beating your wife?"

is it really an either/or kind of situation?

ask the question on a writing forum and i'll wager one of the most common responses is one about dreading the blank page/screen, the empty, white, mocking expanse pulling feckless writers down to excessive drink and self-flagellation. i admit i've felt that same dread, but more often i feel a sense of freedom stretch out before me when i sit ready to begin a new story.

most freeing is sitting before a blank screen without any idea of what to write.

the potential is staggering. anything in the world, imagined and real, is up for fiddling. i'm giddy at the possibilities. i realize that whatever story i decide upon will not realize this endless potential; it's not the nature of storytelling to create a tale that remains open to every possibility--by necessity, we carve out the structure, pov, character, setting and plot to explore a particular question or complication. but just having that pristine moment before making the first cut is breathtaking. i'm there right now.

okay, moment's over. i'm off to the ritual finger-gnawing, hair-twiddling process of thinking up something worth putting on the block. i love this stuff.

exciting news!

i received a letter from the school literary magazine regarding a banquet commemorating its 20th anniversary issue, due out this year. because one of my stories was accepted for inclusion in this issue, i've been invited along with the other writers & artists to read a selection at the banquet.

this is big, y'all. the largest group i've ever read aloud one of my stories for was a class of twelve. the expected audience at the banquet ranges around one hundred or so.

i'm nervous, but also incredibly excited at the prospect of live interaction, if even only for two minutes. not that i'm usually chained in the attic, unfit for the public eye, but i tend toward the hermit lifestyle. i hole up a lot. this will be a huge event for me. if i can finagle a digital recording from my husband, i'll see if i can figure out how to post the thing for anyone who'd like to see it.

this will be a great experience to have under my belt--my first print publication credit, and my first public reading of my work. outstanding. woop! wish me luck.

screenplays?

hi, all. sorry for the lengthy absence, there. i'm optimistic i'll be posting more regularly and hopefully with more substantive entries. not that i'll be researching to great depth; i'm here to introduce, to pique interest--i'll leave the heavy lifting to someone wearing a brace. call me a flirt, it's okay.

a friend of mine currently working on her doctorate in media studies suggested i take a closer look at screenplays, that those who write using strong visuals can often adapt their style to successful screenwriting. i've never really given screenplays a shot; the few times i've tried to read one i'm too distracted by the jumping between stage direction and dialogue and setting description to fall into the story. but i agreed to give it a new try. she suggested several strong screenplays to read, one of which i link to here: http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/alien_early.html .

she also suggested screenplays for "the verdict", "jerry maguire", "casablanca", "pretty woman", "adaptation" . . . and several more, but i'm forgetting her list right now. (don't worry, she's emailing me the complete information later.)

in addition to reading actual screenplays, she recommended the book "and the best screenplay goes to . . . " by linda seger. the book works more like an interactive workbook than a text, analyzing award-winning screenplays scene by scene to bring specific lessons to bear for the reader.
link: http://www.amazon.com/Best-Screenplay-Goes-Learning-Winners/dp/1932907386/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1
i'm actually a little excited about finding and reading this book; that whole window-into-a-new-world phenomenon thing.

i'm open to the idea of screenwriting for a few reasons:

one, i love movies and visual media. i grew up on tv and film, and have experienced powerful moments from both (the kind that leave you on the verge of jumping onto the roof and shouting out your new epiphanies to the neighbors.) while we use our eyes to interpret typewritten words on the page so our brains can understand the message (and all the wonderful storytelling elements that accompany it), i do think visual images may be a more direct path to the brain, evoking as strong a reaction to story but without the added steps of translation--images transcend language in many ways.

two, i like the idea of developing competence with handling a story full-circle: conception, articulation, adaptation. the very idea of composing and then adapting one of my stories for the screen is thrilling--as thrilling as the tantalizing idea of seeing one of my stories published and bound, sitting on the bookstore shelf (ooh! or even better, cradled in the arms of a loving reader.) and part of me thinks learning about this aspect of storytelling will help me with my more traditional forms, as well--learning how to stage action for greatest impact, how to create more natural rhythms in dialogue and character interaction, how to set scenes in the mind's eye so the reader can follow me exactly where i'd like him to go. i can see all sorts of pros to adding to my writing toolbelt.

three, screenwriting is foreign to me. i have no history with stagecraft or theater, or film--although i spent several feverish months as a teen with my nose in fx manuals written by tom savini (specifically, this one: http://www.amazon.com/Bizarro-Tom-Savini/dp/0517553198/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1272600351&sr=1-4 .) i was convinced i'd work in protheses someday for the movie industry. heh.
but back to the point: i never did get any closer to tv or film, other than my fierce love of the magic of storytelling regardless of which form it takes. i'm curious about this huge chunk of entertainment/artistic expression so far untouched by my fumbling efforts. why haven't i ever jumped in? time to find out, i think.

so, i'll be fiddling for a little while, exploring. i may start with an adaptation of one of my flash fictions for practice, as i continue slogging along with the novels. (i'm beginning to wonder if novels are my medium, if i'm not designed for that kind of storytelling architecture or am just struggling with the first novel blues.) maybe i'm hoping for a spark either way.

any experienced dual-medium writers out there who can offer me some advice and/or insight?

hand me that ice pack, wouldja?

it's been a heck of a two weeks. i'd liken the ride to a roller coaster, but to be honest, it's felt more like riding a pogo stick. takes me back to those days of creaky, punching springs and that uh-oh moment when you pogo the pavement at an angle a smidge too sharp and whang off into the bougainvilla. i've got news.

first, i received word on my college program submission a couple of weeks ago, and i wasn't accepted. (i hope i haven't posted about this already--i'm a dweller, so it's difficult sometimes knowing what i've said out loud.) on the surface, this is bad news.

i've been thinking, though, and i've decided it truly is for the best. this semester i've been taking two advanced writing courses at the community college (the dept chair teaches the courses and holds a longstanding relationship with the university english dept), and i've discovered i'm not that academic a writer. i fall somewhere between literary and genre, and i'm happy there. the emphasis in these programs seems to be heavy on the literary, and that would try my patience in the long haul. i really don't appreciate long noses and the tendency to look down them.

so, i'm off on my merry way.

second, i received word this weekend that one of my stories submitted to the community college award-winning literary magazine has been accepted. so, yay! no payment for the honor, but the story will be considered for a prize or two. and it's a print publication credit, which is nice to add to the portfolio. the great thing about this for me is that the magazine is a literary magazine, one which focuses on literary writing (i assume), and the story they've accepted is planted firmly in the thriller/horror genre. it's a freaking monster story, and it got in. double yay! my hopes of blending literary writing with genre storytelling may be working out.

i'm still waiting to hear about two other submissions; will let you know as the news unfolds. carry on, soldiers.

the other sexy ursula

tugboat sent to me this poem this morning:

Please Bring Strange Things

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
And the ways you go be the lines of your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
And your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one,
Walk mindfully, well-loved one,
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
Be always coming home.

---Ursula K. Leguin

ursula's been recommended to me, specifically her short story collection "The Compass Rose", but the above poem is my first direct exposure to her writing. i'm already in love.
i see ursula shimmering up the beach in her white bikini of imagery, her lush sensory evocations swirling about her like gusts of tangy sea air. i long to be her 007, to devour her words and shoot them like bullets from the muzzle of my literary gun. O, ursula! i'm so happy to have found you at last!

how to respond to writing critiques

as a member of a few different writing sites, i interact often with other writers through critique. since one of the goals of critique is to offer suggestions for improvement, i think the natural tendency is to look for those spots, sometimes even at the expense of perspective. if we can't find something to fault, we feel we haven't done a thorough job of it.
that's a shame.
because critiques aren't just about what's wrong with a work, but what's right, also. how the elements fit together to tell the story as a whole is what we're all looking for, i wager--chances are, we understand better than anyone else our shortcomings as writers. feedback on the work's effectiveness all-around is most helpful, for me.
this approach to offering feedback requires mindful reading, of course. we have to read on a few different levels, and i usually need to read a piece at least three times before i feel familiar enough to offer an in-depth critique.

we read at line level:
surface SPaG issues
varied sentence lengths for rhythm and flow
appropriate word choices

at story level:
metaphor and symbolism
character
setting
description
voice
dialogue

and at message level:
theme
what is this story really about?
what is the writer's message?

if i receive a critique addressing my story purely on line level, i'm disappointed. but, sometimes a critiquer only has time to offer off-the-cuff suggestions, and i don't fault someone for trying to help. i'm ecstatic to have a reader!

if i receive an earnest critique from someone investing time and thought into their feedback, i feel honored. if i don't communicate some of my intended theme, or one of my metaphors is offputting, i take the opinion seriously because that person has given my story respect enough to pay attention, to take it in by its parts and as a whole. those critiques are invaluable.

here's what gets me, though. the critique offered in slapdash style, without consideration but with plenty of ego. this person is certain they understand exactly what i tried to accomplish, and will let me know exactly where and how i failed. on top of that, they rewrite sections of the story for my edification, to show me how i should have written a particular line, or scene.

this level of disrespect deserves a variety of responses, but in the name of professionalism and in the virtual world of internet community, how to let this person know your feelings without overstepping?

i always thank someone for reading my work. regardless of their reaction to the story, they've taken time from their day to visit my story, and i appreciate that.
i always thank someone for offering their feedback. in addition to reading, they've also made the effort to give me their opinion--without hearing from a range of readers, we don't know how our writing comes across. if we want to build a wide audience, our writing must be accessible. motivating readers to write in is wonderful, no matter their opinion. we've instigated a strong reaction--hopefully on the power of our writing and not the cannibal baby character sporting a swastika tattoo on his forehead. (that's a topic for another post.)
if a reader expresses confusion about a specific aspect of the story, i'll offer a quick explanation, and polite regret i didn't properly deliver in the story. as long as the tone of the critique is respectful, i'm happy to reciprocate.
when i receive the rare but memorable SOB critique adopting a bastard tone and useless, sometimes abusive opinions, i ignore it. this person has an agenda, and getting a rise is first priority. at most, i acknowledge receiving the "critique" and leave it there. getting into a back-and-forth with this kind of person never goes anywhere good, and honestly, some people are just nuts. better to let some other shiny object attract their attention--and it will, sooner than later.

no, for me, the worst kind of critique to receive is the well-intentioned but woefully misguided or clueless opinion. this person also feels certain, but isn't overtly rude about it. they're not stupid, but they're lazy. they miss basic plot points, or which character says or does what. and then they tell you how to fix your story, how to spell out every character's motivation, how to describe in painful detail each bit of setting, how to change your conclusion so everyone's happy in the end. this person wants to help, but they just don't get it. and if you tell them so, you're colored the defensive, angry writer who can't take honest criticism. so, what to do?

i still struggle with this. one one hand, writers have a shared responsibility to help other writers--almost a calling. we want as many well-crafted and meaningful stories out there as possible. not only do we gain from a higher standard as consumers of stories, we raise the overall bar. that's a good thing. along that line, i should do my best to help this misguided critiquer understand what i'm trying to do in this story, and how. that the doll's eye is a metaphor for how the little girl sees herself reflected in her mother's gaze, and is not just a piece of pretty plastic.
on the other hand, where do i draw the line between artistic cameraderie and suffering foolishness? do i risk the defensive rejoinder, the "i know you are but what am i" retort? indeed. who am i to educate someone not outright asking for it? that's disrespectful, no matter how politely i couch it.
so i thank them for reading and sending me their critique. i note what points i agree with (if any), and what points i respectfully disagree with, and i leave it there. if this person responds asking why i disagree, then that's an opening to enter into a conversation--one both parties are open to. i've had some great discussions beginning just this way. whatever comes of the exchange, i've shown this person the respect they deserve, and hopefully, i come away with another positive--a longtime reader.

in case you're interested in developing online partnerships with other writers, here are the writing sites i belong to:

www.scribophile.com -- free basic membership, site focus on writing and critique, "karma"-based system, vibrant and outspoken community. i've met some amazing writers and editors here. forums range from entertaining to exasperating, and can suck major time away from your day. forewarned. best overall writing site, in my opinion.

www.critiquecircle.com -- free basic membership, not as attractive or interactive as scribophile, but in my (so far) limited experience a solid site for obtaining feedback on writing. another point-based system to guarantee fairness in posting frequency versus offered critiques.

www.writing.com -- basic membership free, established a decade ago and bragging a HUGE member population, this site is a monster. not as focused on developing writing skills as socializing and participation in various themed groups, this site is easy to slip between the cracks unless you're comfortable with constant and widespread political massage. unlimited activities, including writing contests and workshops--and some are serious-minded. i've found a few stellar writers here amidst the confetti, and value them as much as i've met anywhere.

writers is funny people.

looks like tuesdays are good blog days for me. i have my writing classes on tuesdays, so that makes sense--i'm all writery with the thinking tuesday evenings.

tonight the class discussed a short story by Djuna Barnes, "Ladies Almanack: July". amazing writing crammed into a two-page litany about the excesses of love and how silly/fantastical they are. i think also that lesbians were involved, but that's more of a gut thing than an aspect confirmed by academic analysis. but beautiful language; the story should be read aloud. find it, if you can. (we're using a collection of post-modern short fiction called "Innovations", edited by robert mclaughlin. i found my copy on www.amazon.com for about $.40 plus shipping.)

other events in my writing life: uhh...lots of reading this week. reading and critiquing classmates' work. which is an education, for sure. i've got a long way to go, but i've come some of the way on my own. i feel all right about it.

upcoming deadlines: three contests in the next six weeks; a recommendation letter requested by a writery cohort in the next four weeks; homework out the ass (continuous); and those countless unfinished stories that call out to me, plaintive and booty-hurt. when will i ever get to them? must harness yard squirrels for greater power generation. see? one more thing on the list.

what else? i've been writing a lot of dark fiction the last few years. almost all of my stories and some of my few attempts at poetry are dark and weird. that's how i characterize my writing when people ask. "dark and weird", i say. and they shrug, probably assuming i'm a hack. well, i don't blame them. people who write dark are clearly look to shock and appall. they're giggling behind their fingers, waiting for the reader to get to that one spot, the one with the spurting blood and scraps of gray matter, and usually tentacles or fangs, batwings flapping about. that's what we write about, right? that's the assumption, anyway.

i can't really say why i keep revisiting the same themes using the methods i do. maybe i need to keep doing it until i get it right. maybe i'm a skipping record, hoping the kiddies will spin along with me on the go-round. but it's not out of my system, yet. i may visit uplifting and flirt with joy once in a while, but there's something about the scarred that draws me in, still.

about tonight's blog title: i was thinking about people who write, about how--no matter the style or subject or goal--people who write understand each other. we work through the same puzzles, the same hurdles, have many of the same urges. i imagine it's a symbiosis common to people who pursue artistic . . . pursuits. (i me like wordings. *rolls eyes*) i'm not fluent in painting or film making or music, so i can't say. but i get goosebumpy when i'm in a room with people who write when they're talking about the writing. i restrain myself from thumping my chest and declaring us all Clan Mates Of the Order Of the Pen. barely. i mean, i don't really know these people. as much as i toodle about online with other people who write, i don't get the same physical rush. there's something to be said for carnate proximity. carnate? yep. i said it.

am i feeling disdain or fear?

i recently suffered through analysis. not freudian, or transactional, but literary. i love discussing a story as much as, well, anyone else, but the story loses its magic for me when i have to consider aspects such as: the author's self-referential argument between narrator (the author, in this case?) and character about the thin veil between reality and the fantastical. i've not read a lot of "postmodern" fiction, but if the subgenre dictates this kind of discussion, i don't need to read a lot more. i don't like fiction that plays games. metafiction. feh. give me a good story, dammit. and characters that make me feel something. and a theme that leaves me wondering about the world, or the people in it. i've never been one to glorify masturbatory intellectualism. it reeks of musty panties, and i'm embarrassed for those who wallow in them. it. whatever. i'm ranting, so grammar's negotiable.

so, why am i pissed off about it? mainly because i suspect that IF i do get into this MFA program i've applied for, i'm gonna have to suffer through many more black beret discussions like today's. can i do it? yeah. but damn if i'm afraid of losing access to the magical gremlin inside me, the little dude who allows me to write my stories without worrying about all the analytical "booshit", as russel brand might say. i love writing, and i'm determined not to let learning about it ruin the fun. i just wonder why we monkeys feel the compulsion to overanalyze every single little thing to death ad infinitum. thppt. anyhoo, back to your regular business.

right now, i'm reading: "my happy life" by lydia millet

critique vs. discussion

(i should probably post more often. will have to work on that.)




i've been a member of a few writing/critiquing sites, off and on, since 2006. i've explored a handful more, and feel comfortable i've chosen well. the range of writing and storytelling ability is wide, just like in the real world. i've found valuable writing friends, and have improved my own skill at writing and critiquing.

my beef is this: too many people--talented and otherwise, serious and otherwise--do not read with intention. reading is not a passive activity, just as any artistic dialogue between artist and audience requires both are present and conscious; conscious, sure, as in "awake" in a literal sense, but also conscious as in aware of what's around them.

assuming without conscious thought we understand completely what the person expressing their art is trying to communicate is arrogant. assuming the artist themself doesn't understand their work as well as the casual reader is insulting.

now, see, this is beginning to sound like i believe i'm an artist whose work is beyond understanding; that readers are incapable of taking in the glory of what flows from my fingers as gold from a smelter. heh. not true. i'm not perfect. i'm not even particularly accomplished as a writer. i want to develop the ability to write more complex, layered tales; i can see where i want to be, and sometimes even how to get there, but right now? nothing shines out of my arse, i promise you.

but the principle is the thing. when i read others' work, i enter into the effort with an unspoken contract between us. i assume every word they've chosen is intentional, designed to convey exactly what they wish to move the story toward its conclusion. if a spot confuses me, my first assumption isn't that the writer is lazy and didn't properly express themselves (even if that might be the case as it turns out;) i assume i don't understand, and i read the passage again. i look for connections, for symbolic significance, for subtext i may have missed the first time through. i show respect to the writer by taking their work seriously. my critiques reflect that attitude, never rewriting their work for them, or dismissing elements as unimportant for their story. i ask questions, i offer suggestions, i give them my impression of their work with the intention of helping them improve on it.

i've met some people who approach critique the same way. but most, it seems, approach story critique as if they're watching a football game: yay! boo! you suck! personal foul! personal foul!

i can't tell you how tired i am of this.

options:
*stop posting my work for critique--well, the drawbacks here are obvious. not only is receiving feedback close to an illicit drug experience, but i have gained valuable perspective from hearing what others get or don't get from a story.

*post and ask particular people to tell me what they think--a likelier idea, but again, i'd be limiting feedback to those who i know and trust, whose reactions are familiar to me. i want to know how my stuff hits people of all backgrounds.

*stop writing--yeah. tried that. am unhappy when i don't write for long periods of time. :(

*??

so, i'm just going to have to stop worrying about those people who expect a story to be handed to them, explained and illustrated for easy consumption. nod and thank them for reading, and let them go on their way. or, do i?

a fellow site member started a conversation with her critiquer, requesting clarification on points, offering rationale for certain elements of the story. and the the critiquer answered, continuing the conversation. a revelation for me, i tell you.

i've rarely attempted a discussion with a critiquer. the few times i remember trying, the result was awkward and tense, and i felt silly and self-absorbed for wanting to discuss my work with an innocent hit-&-run critiquer. but maybe our expectations as writer and critiquers should change. we should expect that offering a critique is offering more than an off-the-cuff opinion, but is entering into a dialogue about the work with the intention of true communication. how rare and surprising is that? and how wonderful?

how much would you like to talk to your favorite author, ask them what they meant by this line, or how they conceived of that plot twist? how magical would climbing inside their heads like that be?

from this moment, i'm changing my approach. when i commit to critiquing a work, i'm there for the writer until they feel satisfied with my feedback. and when i receive a critique and begin to stop myself from responding with questions or points of clarification, i'm gonna let myself send that message. see what happens. all of a sudden, writing feels more to me like a community effort than a monologue in the dark.