Meep Meeeeep!
February 4th, 2010 by SaraLast week, we got a new puppy! Huzzah! Four-month-old Kitsu is adorable and fox-like and endlessly entertaining. But as I’ve watched her stalking dust bunnies, pouncing on shadows, and chasing her tail, I’ve been forcefully reminded of my own writing process.
See, during the past months of revision, I daydreamed about starting a new story. I’d sit next to a waterlily-filled pond somewhere, seized by inspiration, scribbling down long, brilliant paragraphs. (Why a pond? Especially since Laptop+Water= Tragedy) Anyway, my thoughts would weave themselves together, creating a manuscript with a beginning you couldn’t put down, an intriguing middle, AND a surprising, yet inevitable ending.
Instead, I’ve found the process of writing a first draft just like I remembered it, clumsy and full of doubt. And clumsy isn’t fun. Surprisingly, neither is doubt.
And suddenly, I wished I was revising again. In hindsight, revision seems like strolling through a lovely greenhouse, rearranging plants, watering this one here, pruning that one there. Now, I find myself back on a dusty plain with a handful of seeds and a empty watering can. True, I can create whatever I want in this vast open space, but first I have to find some water, figure out what kind of seeds I have, and get digging. All of this is awkward, hard work that leaves your hands calloused and caked with mud.
Wow. Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away with myself there. Plus now, I have two competing metaphors. Puppies and gardening. Hmmm… better throw in a third one, just for good measure.
Vroom! Meep, Meep!
Right now, in the middle of my first draft, I can hear the Road Runner, I can see him, but he just keeps racing in dizzying circles around me. For the last few weeks, I’ve been forging ahead anyway. Since I know my beginning and I know my ending, surely I can find a path between the two points. But somewhere in the middle there, the story gets boring. And I’ve learned to heed the warning signs. When you sit down to write a scene and you think to yourself, ‘Ugh!’ then whoever reads it is going to think ‘Ugh!’ too.
I’ve figured out that something is missing in my story and it’s as elusive and taunting as the Road Runner himself. But this morning and 
every morning, I will sit down at my computer and start again, creating contraptions, building traps, and scheming new schemes. After all, I’m Wile E. Coyote, Suuuuuper Gen-i-us and I’m bound to catch him sometime, right?
Right?
Posted in First draft, Revision, Writing
February 4th, 2010 at 6:10 pm
Ha ha! Very funny. I feel like I’m chasing my tail with the first draft of my WIP right now too. Maybe a greenhouse is what I need. Kitsu is adorable.
February 5th, 2010 at 11:25 am
Thanks:) She’s definitely stolen our hearts. Peggy, I wish less chasing of our tails and more mice catching for us both. Figuratively, of course:)
February 8th, 2010 at 10:06 pm
In my version of Looney Toons, Wile E. Coyote catches the Road Runner and Sylvester eats Tweety Bird. ;)
February 9th, 2010 at 1:10 pm
Awwww, what a perfect end image!
I love the writing/gardening metaphor! The grass is always greener on the other side: except in your version, one side is a desert and one a greenhouse. What a fun place this is.
I dreamed of dogs because of you. In real life I’m not comfortable around them, but the premise of the dream was that I loved them and that, in fact, all these dogs in my house were mine. So I was going up to them, making myself pet them and say their names and not be afraid of these hyperactive creatures–reminding myself they were mine–wondering why I felt so weird.
February 18th, 2010 at 10:43 am
Right!
Sara – this was great! You sure do know how to wield a metaphor, and you somehow always manage to make it about writing. Wow. I wish I knew how you did that. Love the video and photo of kitsu…
Namaste and a Hug,
Lee
March 11th, 2010 at 8:26 am
I wanted to let you know that I gave you the “One Lovely Blog Award” today. :)
Kevlar
November 20th, 2009 by SaraIn the TV show Castle, the amazing Nathan Fillion plays a mystery writer, Rick Castle, who works with the police to solve crimes. Believable? No. Amusing? Yes.
Anyway, Rick Castle occasionally wears a bullet proof vest, but instead of ‘POLICE,’ his says ‘WRITER.’ My friend, and brilliant writer, Alexandra Amor recently asked me, “What writer couldn’t use one of those?”
Her question got me thinking about the public and private nature of writing stories. One day we see something, maybe a dog wearing goggles and riding around in a basket on a motorcycle. And we think, who buys their dog goggles?
Or we eavesdrop on a strange couple at a restaurant and hear the woman say to the man, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day!” and you wonder, what else has he said to her? And poof! A story is born.
Then we go to our computers and start typing away, creating a whole world out of that one little question. This process is done in a state of delusion. The delusions that we can make people see the same thing we do. Because even if we write in a coffee shop, surrounded by people, we’re alone in our imaginations, trying to translate what’s in our heads onto paper.
So, in our vacuum, we scribble, tweak, and rearrange until everything’s as perfect as we can get it. Then we send our story out into the world. If we’re unlucky, it comes back to us, not quite right for the person we sent it to. And that hurts.
And if we’re lucky? Hundreds of people read it. Thousands. If we’re really really lucky? Hundreds of thousands. Millions even. Then we’re in real trouble.
Cause then our story, our rough translation of the masterpiece we envisioned, has to stand on its own. We have to rely on our string of words to weave worlds and speak the truth. Some people will love it and some people will hate it. And a few special people will see exactly what we saw. And for them the story will be magic and it will stay with them for the rest of their lives.
And through all of this, we, the writer, have to watch from the sidelines. All of the risk and none of the control. No wonder we need Kevlar.
Posted in Authors, Revision, Writing
November 20th, 2009 at 4:54 pm
SCBWI summer conference, let’s wear bullet proof WRITER vests! (In the theme color of course!) Think it could double as a life vest if we fell in the pool after too many theme-colored cocktails?
BTW, I was there, wasn’t I? When the woman said, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day?” It didn’t end up in my story, but that would be so neat if it had. ;)
November 20th, 2009 at 5:35 pm
You were definitely there, Edith:) I was excited to finally be able to use it! Unfortunately, I lost the picture I took of the dog with goggles, but I bet you can use your imagination.
November 21st, 2009 at 1:21 pm
I watch Castle on ABC religiously! I’m crossing my fingers that Santa brings me season 1 on DVD for Christmas; since I had to teach a class in the evenings last semester, I missed quite a bit of season 1.
It is a scary thought, having all those readers dissect the work. As you said, some will love it and some will hate it.
I think both emotions are good! That’s why my biggest fear is being the kind of writer whose work is received so lukewarm that it doesn’t incite any strong emotions. That would truly be scary! I wouldn’t need a vest at all–and where’s the fun in that?!
November 21st, 2009 at 6:05 pm
Stephanie, I totally agree with you! The no response, no vest scenario would be the worst. I feel better now, cause you’re right, there wouldn’t be any fun in that. I can see why you like Castle, you guys have the same sense of adventure:) Thanks for the new point of view:)
Humming Along
November 11th, 2009 by SaraWhat does revision sound like?
For some people it might be the clickity-clack of typing. For others it’s the shush of a highlighter against manuscript pages. But for me it sounds like Battlestar Galactica.
Yes. My revision, at least for my current book, sounds like an epic battle for humanity. Every morning, I sit down and put on Bear McCreary’s brilliant Battlestar soundtrack. While I sip my coffee and look through email, I let my subconscious drift back to the story I’ve been working on. As taiko drums thrum through my keyboard and my pulse races with the music, my fictional world forms around me, along with the characters that I’d left, most likely in a lurch, the day before.
Then I’m ready to write.
All day as I fiddle with dialogue or hit the soul-crushing backspace button, the albums shuffle and repeat, keeping me in the writing trance. The repetition helps me weave a more consistent and vivid world. Like the trick of using 3 different senses to bring a climatic scene alive for a reader, the music helps bring the book alive for me. And like the music I’m listening to, my dark tones and themes repeat again and again, shifting and morphing through the pages.
Books don’t have soundtracks, but authors sometimes do. Writers often make playlists for their fictional characters to listen to. Or, like me, have specific music that they listen to while working on a specific story. Music is such a direct pipeline to our emotions, sweeping us up and away, that I wonder how much of the music we listen to makes it into the pages. And I wonder if my characters are humming along.
November 16th, 2009 at 11:32 am
Awesome post! It reminds me of this quote:
“I live my daydreams in music.”–Albert Einstein
There’s something about music and the construction of art whether that art be cultural, mathematical, or scientific. It’s universal.
Missing Piece
October 21st, 2009 by SaraMy family has a tradition of putting together puzzles during the holidays. The wobbly card table comes up from the basement. The furniture’s shuffled around. And in the quiet times between visiting relatives or Christmas shopping, we’ll sneak a cookie and saunter up to the table, idly trying to find a match or two before having to run off somewhere else.
Amazingly, slowly, fantastic pictures of wizards or the vague dots of George Seurat take shape on that table. Until somewhere around New Years, the final piece goes in. A work of art assembled out of cardboard.
Putting together a story is pretty similar. You get all your pieces out there and start moving them around, separating by patterns and colors. In the middle of everything else… doing the dishes, walking the dog, brushing your teeth…you saunter up sideways to whatever muddled ideas are floating around. And pretending like it’s no big deal, you turn them this was and that until, snap, something fits together.
This summer, I got in the holiday mood and bought a card table and a puzzle. I studiously put the border together and then promptly got distracted. And there the puzzle sat, in the middle of the living room for months and months. With dogs bumping the table legs and people putting their bags on it, and general chaos swirling around.
Until… I started revising again. I got some feedback on my novel that was insightful, completely true, and not a little overwhelming. Turns out, my story was close, but it still had holes in it. So, in the middle of trying to figure out how to fix my story, I wandered back to my puzzle.
It was a perfect activity to do while I was thinking about my book. The problem was that the puzzle, like my story, had been sitting there for months with life happening all around it. I was positive that I’d lost a piece of it by now.
And I had.
But what happened with the puzzle was amazingly close to what was happening in my writing life. As I put the puzzle together, lost pieces found their way back to me. A friend, who’d been at my house weeks before, mysteriously found a piece at the bottom of his bag. My husband found another on the floor right before the vacuum ate it.
When the puzzle was about 90% complete, I began to suspect that there was still one piece missing. Friends would look over my shoulder and ask “Where’s that piece?” Because they could see as clearly as I could that there were no more orange pieces left on the table.
“Um…maybe it’s there somewhere,” I’d say, waving vaguely at my ever dwindling pile of pieces.
I kept putting the picture together around it, stomach sinking. Hoping that by sheer force of will the piece would magically appear. Until finally, all the pieces were gone and there was still one gaping hole in the puzzle.
I looked around the table. I scoured the floor. I glared at my dog, who’d probably eaten it. Then in a fit of desperation… I looked in the box. And there, in the corner, was one lone puzzle piece. A smudge of orange that’d never been out on the table in the first place. Something that had been waiting all this time to complete the picture. Snap. It fit into place and there in front of me, with reds and yellows and all the oranges, was a phoenix rising up into the air.
October 21st, 2009 at 12:50 pm
Wonderful post. The puzzle is gorgeous—reminds me of a Russian fairy tale that I adore.
October 21st, 2009 at 1:13 pm
You’re spot on! It’s evidently an illustration of a Russian fairy tale:) It was a great puzzle to put together. Thanks!
October 21st, 2009 at 1:16 pm
Great post, Sara!
I love the puzzle/revision comparison! It’s true with each that if I try and hurry through to finish, I usually end up with wasted time and frustration- and no finished project. Sometimes, all you need is to approach it from a different direction.
October 21st, 2009 at 1:45 pm
Well put. It’s frustrating and great to remember that – in our writing lives – there are some pieces that never make it out on the table. Thanks for this! As somebody who is about to embark on a large-scale revision, it was helpful.
Bryan
October 21st, 2009 at 2:29 pm
Thanks Kim! I’m glad my post resonated with you. So true about approaching things from another direction:)
Bryan, I checked out your website and we share the same agent. Michael’s great, huh? Congrats and good luck on your revision. I guess I should get back to mine!
October 21st, 2009 at 4:09 pm
this was amazingly written! i love your prose and the fact that you were doing a puzzle with a phoenix on it is just icing on the cake. love it!
October 21st, 2009 at 7:33 pm
Hi. I found this post via my agent Michael Bourret. What a wonderful post! So glad I stopped by. And congratulations on the puzzle. I’m a knitter and have a seam on a sweater that’s been waiting for me to finish all summer. Fall is here now…and I’m pondering a new novel idea. Maybe tomorrow I should sew up that seam!
October 21st, 2009 at 8:45 pm
Talk about a perfect metaphor! I’m glad you stopped by too:)
October 22nd, 2009 at 6:08 pm
It’s so amazing how you manage to tie all these things back into the writing/revising process so elegantly!
Brava!
And, niiiiice puzzle. Glad it all came together.
SNAP!
So will the book. I know it. You’re an AWESOME writer.
Namaste and a big Hug,
Lee
Better, stronger, faster.
October 14th, 2009 by SaraThis past summer, my beloved puppy dog passed away, leaving a corgi-shaped hole in my life. My husband and I’d had her for almost as long as we’d been a ‘we.’ Together, we’d moved across the country 3 times and lived in 5 different apartments. We’d been camping up in the mountains and out on the beach. And we’d curled up on the couch with hundreds of books. So it was hard to get used to life without her.
Around the same time, I started working on a new book, replacing familiar characters with new ones. Then my computer died, taking some of my writing with it.
It wasn’t until my friend Edith, who I wrote with twice a week, announced she was moving that I recognized everything in my life was shifting. I was not impressed.
Change is hard. And it seems to come all at once, disrupting your schedule, switching the scenery, and upsetting the balance. This is just the way life works. To move forward, life must change. Sad or happy, it’s inevitable. And this is true with writing as well.
Except with writing, we’re inflicting the change on ourselves. We rearrange the furniture. Kill off characters. Add new ones. It’s the nature of revision, but at times I find myself hesitating. What if I mess it up? What if the things that are good about my story get lost? Sometimes the story seems so close to being right, that it feels risky to change it.
But we have to.
If we want our stories to be everything we’ve imagined them to be in our heads… if I want the chance to share that story with the world… then we have no choice but to step forward. We have to take our story apart and put it back together again, trusting that what we rebuild will be stronger than before.
And the same is true with life. I will always miss my puppy. I will miss Edith and typing away next to her at the coffee shop. I will even miss my computer, bulky and covered with stickers. But as pieces of my life fall away, I have to believe that what is left, that what is coming next, will be strong and beautiful too.
Posted in Not-so-nifty happenings, Revision, SCBWI
October 14th, 2009 at 6:21 pm
Awww!!! Now you’ve made me cry! I love this pic of us. You should tape it to your new fridge & I’ll tape one to my new fridge when I get one. Best friends forever!!
October 15th, 2009 at 12:35 am
I love that picture too! You got a deal with the fridge pictures! Maybe I’ll put one on BOTH fridges:)
It feels like when it rains it pours, but we both have to have faith that this storm of change is shaking up our world and clearing the way for incredible things!
October 15th, 2009 at 2:30 am
Oh and when you come visit me in Somerville wear the Max suit! It’ll keep you warm. ;)
October 18th, 2009 at 8:11 pm
Okay, now I have the opening from the 6 million dollar man TV show going through my head… “We can re-build him. Better. Stronger. Faster!”
I love how (once again) you tied it all back to be about writing, and your process. I believe in you, and know all this change is going to bring you to amazing places!
Go, Sara! Go!!! (chu-chu-chu-chu-cha!) – err.. that’s my imitation of the sound Steve Austin made when running – or was that the sound that Jaime Sommers made when jumping?)
Namaste and a giant HUG,
Lee
October 20th, 2009 at 10:54 am
I like your sound effects! Nice! I’m totally picturing it now:)
Appendicitis?
July 8th, 2009 by SaraRecently, I’ve been doing some story soul searching. And I’ve learned an important revision lesson… something simple that every doctor knows well: The symptom of the problem is often different from the problem itself.
For example, an upset stomach could just mean you ate too much Chunky Monkey. Or it could mean you have appendicitis, vertigo, that you’re pregnant, have kidney failure, heart problems… or that you’re making yourself sick worrying that you have one of these things. So pain in your stomach might not have anything to do with your stomach at all.
Same thing with a story. Your critique group could tell you, “The dialogue’s not really flowing in this scene.” And it’s probably true, but it might not be the actual problem. The real problem could be that you, the writer, don’t know your character well enough to write them authentic dialogue. Or maybe you’re trying to work information into the scene and it’s coming out forced. Or that scene should come a lot earlier or later in the book. Or maybe you have appendicitis.
The hardest part of revision is often tracking down the issue itself. Because if you just take Tums, it might get rid of your stomach ache for a little while, but the real problem is gonna come back and kick you in the teeth.
Which brings me to the work I’ve been doing with my amazing agent, Michael Bourret. It’s like he has a story CAT scan. He’s got a knack for skipping past the symptoms and diagnosing the actual problem. It’s heavenly. It saves hours of needless hospital visits and doctors bills… (I’ll leave it up in the air as to whether that’s metaphorical or literal.) Unfortunately, once I have diagnosis, I don’t always have the cure. Sigh… I guess that’s what being a writer is all about. Better go self-medicate.
July 9th, 2009 at 8:33 am
I think I have appendicitis. ;-)
I know what you mean. They said – I’m not identifying with your MC enough. I figured out I write much better in first person. My whole body is wrong even though only my heart aches. *sigh*
July 9th, 2009 at 8:38 am
Sorry… I’ve totally had to change POV’s before. It’s definitely a challenge. But clearly, you have the heart of a writer. Even if it’s achey:)
July 9th, 2009 at 4:33 pm
Wow. You’ve got a real book doctor for an agent. Fabulous! So glad to hear you completed your revision. Can’t wait to read what’s next…
July 12th, 2009 at 9:27 am
This is exactly how I feel about JM too! It’s so nice to have such a brilliant agent. Can’t wait to catch up with you on Tuesday!!
July 22nd, 2009 at 1:29 pm
Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down . . . Love that this whole medical-diagnosis metaphor is accompanied by a picture of Ben & Jerry’s! It works on so many levels, it’s sweet.
Eating Paste
March 4th, 2009 by SaraOkay… maybe not eating it.
So I finished my revision… now what? As a way to deal with the dismal No Man’s Land that lurks between revisions and new projects, I’ve been getting crafty. This past September at the SCBWI Working Writers’ Retreat, the creative Julie Williams gave us some unusual ideas about how to build an authentic world for our stories. Found-book collages, paper dolls, and object-inspired writing exercises made me realize that there’s more to grounding yourself in a new world than outlines and brainstorms.
I’ve had some ‘in between’ time on my hands, so I pulled out my notes for my next book and got to work. Or play, rather. You can see I’ve made a mess. But that’s what it’s all about. Or is that the hokey-pokey?
As I construct this world in a literal, hands-on way, specific and rich details are floating into my brain like gifts from the ether. Scenes have begun playing themselves out in front of me and characters are finding forms.
It’s been a fantastic way to travel from the analytical territory of revisions to the open space of creation. And it’s reminded me that this whole venture is supposed to be fun. Here’s a peek at the world I’m just starting to imagine.
Posted in Characters, Conference, First draft, Revision, SCBWI, Writing
March 4th, 2009 at 2:56 pm
Sara,
that’s so cool!
Very “right brain” of you…
Can’t wait to hear more about this new world!
Namaste and a Hug,
Lee
March 4th, 2009 at 3:40 pm
Whoa! Look at that! You broke out the crayons and the pencils! Or the chalk anyway. I think I see chalk.
March 5th, 2009 at 9:10 am
Yummy. Glue.
I love Julie’s exercises. Have you seen her blog? Cool new mixed media.
March 8th, 2009 at 4:08 pm
in the third picture, why do those blocks look like packs of C-4 explosives?
:)
C’est Fini!
February 26th, 2009 by Sara
Just a short and celebratory post to declare that I finished my lastest revision. My YA novel, The Harbinger, will no longer be locked away in the dark files of my computer. It is being sent out into the world! Hooray!
Up, Up and Away!
February 28th, 2009 at 10:45 am
I can not express how proud I am of you!!!
Congratulations!
March 1st, 2009 at 5:49 pm
Hurray Sara! That’s FANTASTIC! I’m proud of you, too!
May it take you to great heights!
Hugs,
Lee
March 3rd, 2009 at 11:01 am
Hi Sara,
Congratulations! I met you at the NY SCBWI con a few months ago. My name is Ron Smith and my business card said Prince Balthazar.
I am a very tall black person. If that helps you remember. LOL.
Good luck with your book!
March 5th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Awesome! Crossing all fingers and toes!
Still slogging through mine. 50K words and climbing, sort of, except now that I’m revising the heck out of it, it sort of goes up and then right back down.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:46 am
Sara that’s fantastic! Keep us posted on what you hear – I’m sure it will be only good things. :)
March 13th, 2009 at 12:32 am
Hahahaha–this is so great. And here I thought I was being all creative, congratulating you with a giant peach. You already got yourself a hot air balloon!
YAY!!! Off to soaring new heights!!!
Dead Leaves and Surprise Guests
October 1st, 2008 by SaraI’ve never been a gardener, but when I moved 8 months ago, my mom came out for my birthday and helped me plant a gorgeous garden. Purples and blues and pinks rioted in front of my house. I have to say I was a bit perplexed when I saw the result. It was beautiful, but foreign. These weren’t the colors I usually surrounded myself with.
And for a while I was meticulous about the garden. The watering, the weeding, sometimes just going outside to admire it. I fought to save plants in distress and glowed when people complemented the flowers.
But somewhere around August it all went horribly wrong. Carnivorous plants devoured the weaker, less ambitious ones. A potted plant died a long and arduous death and I didn’t replace it. I skipped a watering day here or there. Then came the vacation.
I went out of town for a couple of weeks. When I got back, despite my neighbors’ best efforts, my garden was a mess. My basil had grown into a tree, my roses were sagging, and my window box could only be described as brown. Since I got back, I’ve been avoiding eye contact with them all. Watering them only when the guilt got too much. I just couldn’t face the overgrown, weedy mess I’d made.
Then today, I filled up the watering cans, pulled out the scissors, and made my first stab. I started pulling off the dead leaves. One by one. Immediately things looked brighter, cleaner, and one of the leaves even started waving it thanks. Waving? I took a closer look.
A lovely, alien praying mantis was dangling from the rosebush. She maneuvered her stick-like legs, trying to find a better perch. I watched in awe. Something wonderful had chosen to make her home here. I had a guest in my overgrown jungle.
Right then I decided, I would fix the place up. Weed out the clover, haul back the petunias, and replace the dead plants. And this time, I would fill my garden with oranges and yellows. This time, it would look like me.
Sitting down at my computer this morning and opening my novel revision, I make the same decision. Time to prune and replant. And somewhere in this tangle of words, maybe I’ll find a surprise guest.
Posted in Nifty happenings, Revision, Writing
October 1st, 2008 at 10:13 am
I am thoroughly impressed at the amount of “green” despite the carnivorous plants… all I see in my back yard is brown and dead.
In the future, I see a gardner in my life :)
October 2nd, 2008 at 2:14 am
How lovely! I love this gardening/revision metaphor, and I love the photo of the praying mantis!!
October 2nd, 2008 at 8:39 am
Great praying mantis pic! I love to dig my hands in the earth, but who has the time? And the watering and weeding? I told my gardener that as long as the lawn is green, I don’t care if it’s grass or weeds. Less toxic chemicals that way at least. Besides weeds are very hardy and some are quite pretty. Why not have a weed garden?
October 6th, 2008 at 9:08 am
What a lovely entry! Thank you for brightening my day!
October 13th, 2008 at 8:57 am
You have such a beautiful way of connecting the world around you with your writing! Hey, can I hire you to do the same for me???
October 15th, 2008 at 11:33 am
Sara,
this was lovely. And the fact that you got it all to tie in with your revision was pretty masterful. Wow. And nice close-up of the praying mantis. You ROCK. (or maybe I need to say, You GARDENER, you!)
Hugs,
Lee
The Bells! The Bells!
September 22nd, 2008 by SaraI just got back from the SCBWI Working Writers Retreat, a particularly cruel event where they entice you with tables of inexpensive YA books and promises of wine and chocolate, then run you ragged with constant critique groups, editor talks, and yoga. Children’s writing is a harsh world and those of you that don’t know this should get out while you can!
Let me set the scene. Down in the valley, there lies a land called the “Holy Spirit Retreat Center.” This placid setting of zen-like landscaping is just a set-up to expose those of us with hard-to-control impulses. For starters, there’s a giant bell that makes a delicious gonging noise right there in the courtyard. Anyone could’ve just walked up and rung it! What kind of world do we live in that has bells just lying around to tempt all?
Then there was a circular patch of grass that had a sidewalk circling around it… but there was also a slightly worn footpath short-cutting straight through the middle. Every time you walked in that direction you had to make the decision. Go around the ‘right’ way? Or cut across the grass? I wanted to give into temptation, but I was sure there were cameras that the nuns were monitoring.
I haven’t even mentioned the duck pond with its rock-throwing possibilities or the constant access to coffee or the giant basket of little candy bars that I wanted to steal all the Butterfingers out of. I think I’ll stop now… I might cry.
But there was one bright spot in this torturous retreat. Julie Williams, an phenomenal wordsmith, writer, and artist, did a session called “Words and Images, Images and Words.” She spoke and demonstrated ways to generate ideas when we need a little help with our writing. One of the simple, but wonderful, exercises she did with us used a series of four writing prompts.
We each started with a random image that had been handed to us. Mine was a magazine picture of several pieces of blue fabric draping down, like the folds of a woman’s dress. We did a continuous free-write for 2 minutes about the picture. Then we got a piece of fabric to add to the mix, mine was a piece of lace. 2 more minutes of writing. Then a button was added (an old, small, white one). An finally a word (jack).
Each item made the ’speed’ story we were writing grow richer and richer. And my prompts led me into the world of my next book complete with textured, opening scenes. I was astounded by the truth of something I thought I already knew. Physical objects can ground fiction in a way that nothing else can. They breathe life and energy and exactness into your writing.
Of course, I wanted to keep my writing prompts. As I was sneakily slipping them into my bag, convinced that they would be taken away from us, just as we got inspired, I heard Julie say, “You can keep your objects to remind you of what you’ve written today.” I sighed. I was guilt-free. Maybe I’d go outside and ring that bell after all.
Posted in Authors, Nifty happenings, Revision, SCBWI, Writing
September 23rd, 2008 at 9:31 am
Hey Sara – What a great description of the retreat. Love the pictures on your blog, too. Especially the one of you through the tree. Very enchanting.
September 28th, 2008 at 1:54 pm
“for whom the bells toll, it tolls for thee”– john donne
“every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings”– zuzu bailey (“it’s a wonderful life”)
September 29th, 2008 at 7:19 am
The retreat sounds so amazing! I feel like I was there for a second.
September 30th, 2008 at 7:25 pm
did you RING the bell? I hope so. If not, you’ll have to go back again next year. Bells are for ringin’, by golly, and you’ve got the right to ring ‘em!
sounds like an amazing experience!
Namaste and a hug,
Lee
October 2nd, 2008 at 2:23 am
How much do I love the idea of giant bells being left around for anyone to ring! And Alvina Ling once blogged about those footpaths that just appear in courtyards and parks. She heard they were called “desire lines.” (Does that mean one *should* give in? Not sure, but I like the idea that our desires find visible expression.)
Best of all, though, is your describing this writing exercise. I’m so inspired, in my heart, I’m ringing the bell. :D
October 2nd, 2008 at 6:17 am
Desire lines! That is brilliant and so amazingly perfect. I’m sure Alvina will NEVER notice if I blatantly steal from her sometime, I mean, editors don’t read much, do they??
