Rain is such a paradox, is it not. It is refreshing on a hot day. It greens the grass and feeds the trees. It takes dry plants and makes them supple again. It clears the smog and drowns the pollen.
But..., and this is big pause, it should only be taken in small doses. Only we are not the nursemaid here. With overdoses come floods and landslides, broken homes and broken dreams. With it comes fear and uncertainty, sometimes gratitude and relief amid loss.
How does a writer use rain? In all of the above ways and more. Rain can signify spring and new beginnings. It can literally be life-giving and figuratively as well. It's absence can bring the opposite. However, it is more. It is as tears of sorrow or ones of joy. Rain clears and cleans body, mind or soul. It reflects images and light. It is the bringer of things precious or dangerous and yet still can carry all these away. It is powerful, in the right hands.
It is definitely powerful in His.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
To Storm or Not to Storm
The news this morning is all about Hurricane Sandy. There are maps and figures, sound bites and dramatic footage. Mostly there are a lot of predictions about what is likely to happen. Add the ordinary person to the picture, and you will find the unworried, "I'll ride out the storm" to the well prepared, "I'm playing it safe and leaving with my kids," or "We've bought our water and our batteries, and we hope we'll be okay."
I have mixed hopes for the next few days. I truly hope that people are safe and that there is no loss of life. I hope that people don't lose their homes and especially their memories. I hope the storm is not as bad as they are predicting.
But part of me hopes the storm is exactly as bad as predicted. (Don't judge me yet, hear me out.) It is not, as you may think, a "rubber neck" response. You know, how we all want to see the accident when we pass by. Just how mangled were the cars? No, it's not that at all for me. My hopes for this storm are much more long term. If this storm is as bad as it is being forecast, people will learn to take the warnings seriously. Many already do. But there are those that think it's just "calling wolf." And if the storm doesn't deliver, next time more won't take it seriously. One of these days, if that keeps happening, loss of life will be much worse than need be because too many people stayed in harm's way, causing damage to themselves and also their would-be rescuers.
For this same reason, I don't like it when media become alarmists and make dire predictions that just aren't realistic. We have lived in areas where some local TV stations loved to put the scare on. I believe that is more harmful than helpful. In our current area we commonly have tornado warnings, but we also have a weather person who explains calmly and without panic. She firmly warns when needed, and educates to diminish fears. She is just who you want in your corner.
She is exactly who you don't want in your books. If you are writing (or reading) a book of suspense, who wants to be calmed down? Don't you want to be jacked up, sitting on the edge of your seat? In books we want "storms" to be as bad, probably worse, than anticipated. Readers should take writer's threats seriously! If a book is anticlimactic will you read that author again? I think not. If a story "appears" anticlimactic, but then holds a surprise around the corner, then all is probably forgiven.
You may or may not agree with my concerns about Hurricane Sandy, but it's probably safe to say that in a work of fiction it's okay for things to be bad for awhile. There is no risk to "real" human life, no "real" memories are being disheveled. I suppose that's why I like writing fiction. I can pick any ending I want, and any pathway to get there.
In all sincerity, may everyone out there in the "real" world be safe today and in the coming week.
I have mixed hopes for the next few days. I truly hope that people are safe and that there is no loss of life. I hope that people don't lose their homes and especially their memories. I hope the storm is not as bad as they are predicting.
But part of me hopes the storm is exactly as bad as predicted. (Don't judge me yet, hear me out.) It is not, as you may think, a "rubber neck" response. You know, how we all want to see the accident when we pass by. Just how mangled were the cars? No, it's not that at all for me. My hopes for this storm are much more long term. If this storm is as bad as it is being forecast, people will learn to take the warnings seriously. Many already do. But there are those that think it's just "calling wolf." And if the storm doesn't deliver, next time more won't take it seriously. One of these days, if that keeps happening, loss of life will be much worse than need be because too many people stayed in harm's way, causing damage to themselves and also their would-be rescuers.
For this same reason, I don't like it when media become alarmists and make dire predictions that just aren't realistic. We have lived in areas where some local TV stations loved to put the scare on. I believe that is more harmful than helpful. In our current area we commonly have tornado warnings, but we also have a weather person who explains calmly and without panic. She firmly warns when needed, and educates to diminish fears. She is just who you want in your corner.
She is exactly who you don't want in your books. If you are writing (or reading) a book of suspense, who wants to be calmed down? Don't you want to be jacked up, sitting on the edge of your seat? In books we want "storms" to be as bad, probably worse, than anticipated. Readers should take writer's threats seriously! If a book is anticlimactic will you read that author again? I think not. If a story "appears" anticlimactic, but then holds a surprise around the corner, then all is probably forgiven.
You may or may not agree with my concerns about Hurricane Sandy, but it's probably safe to say that in a work of fiction it's okay for things to be bad for awhile. There is no risk to "real" human life, no "real" memories are being disheveled. I suppose that's why I like writing fiction. I can pick any ending I want, and any pathway to get there.
In all sincerity, may everyone out there in the "real" world be safe today and in the coming week.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I Couldn't See the Lightning for the Trees
I love thunder and lightning storms. The lighting of a dark night or the crash followed by a scissor streak across the sky - drama at its best. At such times, I can often be found on the front porch watching, oblivious to time. We humans think we are so powerful, so in control of our own destinies. But can you still think so when watching such majestic power inhabit the entire expanse overhead? With awe, can you begin to understand your nothingness, not with resignation but rather reverence? I will always view these displays with complete respect.
Yesterday as I sat in my library chair a storm passed by. My chair is in a corner and both walls beside me are floor to ceiling windows. I was privy to the sight of copious amounts of rain. (Strange to see it so near and yet be untouched by its effects.) I was startled many times by the low bass of thunder echoing on and on. Yet, I could see no lightning.
There is a logical explanation for this. Outside the library window is first a small patch of grass then a large stand of tall trees. The trees were full of leaves, blowing in the wind. Only a few had started to undress for winter. I could not see past them.
I suppose this was a good thing. Writing would have certainly been interrupted and upstaged by lightning. But it does give one pause.
If you hear a dog bark without seeing it you can still picture a dog. But imagine for a moment you have never seen a dog. What would the bark mean to you? What would be conjured up as the source of such a strange sound?
Writing, it seems, can make good use of both knowledge and the lack thereof. The Jurassic Park tremors in the water puddles were startling because you knew what was coming, even if you didn't know how or when, kind of like a lightning strike. But equally suspenseful can be the sound without an owner, our imaginations inventing the worst.
And one last thought - different techniques for different times. Today the trees are bare. Yesterday's storm knocked all the figurative clothing off the line. As a result I can see much farther today. But I do miss the trees.
Yesterday as I sat in my library chair a storm passed by. My chair is in a corner and both walls beside me are floor to ceiling windows. I was privy to the sight of copious amounts of rain. (Strange to see it so near and yet be untouched by its effects.) I was startled many times by the low bass of thunder echoing on and on. Yet, I could see no lightning.
There is a logical explanation for this. Outside the library window is first a small patch of grass then a large stand of tall trees. The trees were full of leaves, blowing in the wind. Only a few had started to undress for winter. I could not see past them.
I suppose this was a good thing. Writing would have certainly been interrupted and upstaged by lightning. But it does give one pause.
If you hear a dog bark without seeing it you can still picture a dog. But imagine for a moment you have never seen a dog. What would the bark mean to you? What would be conjured up as the source of such a strange sound?
Writing, it seems, can make good use of both knowledge and the lack thereof. The Jurassic Park tremors in the water puddles were startling because you knew what was coming, even if you didn't know how or when, kind of like a lightning strike. But equally suspenseful can be the sound without an owner, our imaginations inventing the worst.
And one last thought - different techniques for different times. Today the trees are bare. Yesterday's storm knocked all the figurative clothing off the line. As a result I can see much farther today. But I do miss the trees.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Writing Two Books at Once
I'm beginning to wonder if I should work on two major books at one time. One may be a light hearted hopeful book and the other a sinister murder mystery or tragedy. When I wake up in the morning I gauge my mood. If I'm tired and cranky, then what better time to write about death and destruction. When I'm cheerful, than my heroine wins the Nobel Prize.
I often marvel at Shakespeare and his ability to write delightful comedy and dark tragedies as well. How do both genres exist in the same person? Maybe he just wrote (or planned in his mind) whichever fit his mood for the day.
Bottom line is this, for fiction to be believable, to match the human experience, it needs to have both hope and harm on the same pages. Nothing new, this really is a writing 101 concept. But do we allow both to actually flourish together, or do we have a bias towards one or the other.
At times, I need to shed the bias I acquired from my start in writing children's literature. Writing for children is a whole 'nother story, pardon the pun. We want to protect our children. They are not ready to dwell on the ugliness in the world. They need more emotional tools in the tool box to handle it. This is why human children live with human parents for so long. It allows, and requires, us to teach and protect.
So, making that transition for me from happy child's book to up-and-down novel may require not writing two books but two very distinct characters. I can pick and choose who I will write about each day. And if my family keeps up on my plot, they only need ask who I wrote about that day to know when to avoid me. I'm not seeing a down side.
I often marvel at Shakespeare and his ability to write delightful comedy and dark tragedies as well. How do both genres exist in the same person? Maybe he just wrote (or planned in his mind) whichever fit his mood for the day.
Bottom line is this, for fiction to be believable, to match the human experience, it needs to have both hope and harm on the same pages. Nothing new, this really is a writing 101 concept. But do we allow both to actually flourish together, or do we have a bias towards one or the other.
At times, I need to shed the bias I acquired from my start in writing children's literature. Writing for children is a whole 'nother story, pardon the pun. We want to protect our children. They are not ready to dwell on the ugliness in the world. They need more emotional tools in the tool box to handle it. This is why human children live with human parents for so long. It allows, and requires, us to teach and protect.
So, making that transition for me from happy child's book to up-and-down novel may require not writing two books but two very distinct characters. I can pick and choose who I will write about each day. And if my family keeps up on my plot, they only need ask who I wrote about that day to know when to avoid me. I'm not seeing a down side.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Embrace the Unexpected
I arrived early at the library today intent on securing "my" spot. (I'm not quite ready to deal with too much change as per my previous post.) I determined on approach that I was successful; it was vacant! Or so it seemed. When I reached my actual chair I was alarmed to spot a very large wasp on the back of the adjacent seat! Moment of decision - find some place else or deal with the large pest.
Desire is a powerful thing. I really, really wanted to sit in my spot. So, armed with a newly checked out The Brothers Karamazov, I raised my arm and took aim. I knew injuring the wasp, thus making it "mad as a hornet" would not be a good idea. Death was my only goal. (May my children forgive me when they read this.) Like "mighty Casey" I took a huge swing. To my relief, I didn't strike out. However, I realized I should have picked a book without a cloth cover, but a little too late for that. I can just imagine the stories future readers of that particular volume will conjure up . . .
You know, I don't suppose that in our personal lives we always appreciate the unexpected. But I imagine it's the stuff writers dream about.
Desire is a powerful thing. I really, really wanted to sit in my spot. So, armed with a newly checked out The Brothers Karamazov, I raised my arm and took aim. I knew injuring the wasp, thus making it "mad as a hornet" would not be a good idea. Death was my only goal. (May my children forgive me when they read this.) Like "mighty Casey" I took a huge swing. To my relief, I didn't strike out. However, I realized I should have picked a book without a cloth cover, but a little too late for that. I can just imagine the stories future readers of that particular volume will conjure up . . .
You know, I don't suppose that in our personal lives we always appreciate the unexpected. But I imagine it's the stuff writers dream about.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Change - Maybe It's Good?
This morning, going out to the bus stop with my youngest, he and I noticed how beautiful the sky was. It has been cloudy lately, making it just appear to be dark, almost still night. But this morning the sky had wispy clouds that were painted pink. When the eye followed the pink, it led to a bright orange spot where the sun would soon appear. It was magical. Even in that half light the autumn leaves look brilliant.
My son and I turned away from the eastern sky to watch for his bus. So, it was about five minutes later when I turned again to the brightening sky. It was completely different! The sun was still not up and the clouds were still reflecting light, but now it was yellow. The pink was entirely gone. I was rather stunned. It was so changed in such a short span of time.
I should have seen this as a sign of things to come. When I arrived at the library this morning, "my" spot was taken! Well, not the actual chair I like to sit in, but the one next to it. Personal space and all I was not going to sit in that one spot. Can you spell "awkward"?
I walking around to explore my options (and make sure those options had plugs for my computer - old battery, new one came yesterday but it didn't fit - whole 'nother story!). Anyway, found a different spot, not quite so nice as "my" spot, but oh, well. After sitting down, I found my whole routine out of whack. So, instead of blogging first, I tried other things. But blogging gets my fingers and my thoughts going, making it easy and natural to write on my book.
I tried to move to the book - not happening! I did some odds and ends and finally ended up reading, still not a waste. But in the end, I still needed to write, and seemingly also to blog. So, here I am.
I didn't think change would upset my rhythm so drastically. Maybe I need to mix it up on a regular basis to change my perspective, to add freshness to my writing, to see my characters in a different light (maybe yellow instead of pink). I'll think about it, but I'm still going to look for "my" spot tomorrow!
My son and I turned away from the eastern sky to watch for his bus. So, it was about five minutes later when I turned again to the brightening sky. It was completely different! The sun was still not up and the clouds were still reflecting light, but now it was yellow. The pink was entirely gone. I was rather stunned. It was so changed in such a short span of time.
I should have seen this as a sign of things to come. When I arrived at the library this morning, "my" spot was taken! Well, not the actual chair I like to sit in, but the one next to it. Personal space and all I was not going to sit in that one spot. Can you spell "awkward"?
I walking around to explore my options (and make sure those options had plugs for my computer - old battery, new one came yesterday but it didn't fit - whole 'nother story!). Anyway, found a different spot, not quite so nice as "my" spot, but oh, well. After sitting down, I found my whole routine out of whack. So, instead of blogging first, I tried other things. But blogging gets my fingers and my thoughts going, making it easy and natural to write on my book.
I tried to move to the book - not happening! I did some odds and ends and finally ended up reading, still not a waste. But in the end, I still needed to write, and seemingly also to blog. So, here I am.
I didn't think change would upset my rhythm so drastically. Maybe I need to mix it up on a regular basis to change my perspective, to add freshness to my writing, to see my characters in a different light (maybe yellow instead of pink). I'll think about it, but I'm still going to look for "my" spot tomorrow!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Writers Never Sleep
I'm beginning to believe that writers never really sleep. I used to think that it was mothers that never slept, but this is different. I find myself turning over in the night with just enough cognitive awareness to form a thought and then two. Soon those thoughts are all about what to write or how to write something or maybe even a new topic or plot I'd like to explore. It's hard to return to sleep because I want to follow my thoughts; I want to see where they lead me. And that's just in the middle of the night.
When I'm falling asleep I start rehearsing whole conversations, scenes or plot twists. I imagine what I will write first the next day. I may be tired but I resist sleep as I don't want to stop the flow of my imagination. But soon I force myself to set my characters or "adventures" aside, for only in the surrendering to sleep will the new day come (with any chance at productively, that is).
I think, however, that "writers never sleep" means more to me than the disruption of physical sleep. It means that writers are always writing. For instance, we are writing as we drive down the highway, either with our thoughts or observations - sights or experiences that will tunnel their way into our brain so that at some appropriate time later they can resurface and see daylight on our written page.
Imagine for instance the woman I met today. I was helping with our local schools' PTA consignment sale. It started today. People are dropping off their items today by the literal truck load! It's our job as volunteers to sort it and place it in it's proper place. As a perk, we volunteers can shop today before the general public. As I was sorting some clothing a woman started to help me. I noticed that she had not picked up her volunteer name tag, but didn't think too much of that. About an hour later she told me she was from a few towns over and had just come to shop for her grand kids. But someone told her that only helpers could shop today, so, she started helping! When my shift ended after three hours, she was still helping! What an interesting lady. I'll have to remember her for another time . . .
And with that thought, good night and sweet dreams.
When I'm falling asleep I start rehearsing whole conversations, scenes or plot twists. I imagine what I will write first the next day. I may be tired but I resist sleep as I don't want to stop the flow of my imagination. But soon I force myself to set my characters or "adventures" aside, for only in the surrendering to sleep will the new day come (with any chance at productively, that is).
I think, however, that "writers never sleep" means more to me than the disruption of physical sleep. It means that writers are always writing. For instance, we are writing as we drive down the highway, either with our thoughts or observations - sights or experiences that will tunnel their way into our brain so that at some appropriate time later they can resurface and see daylight on our written page.
Imagine for instance the woman I met today. I was helping with our local schools' PTA consignment sale. It started today. People are dropping off their items today by the literal truck load! It's our job as volunteers to sort it and place it in it's proper place. As a perk, we volunteers can shop today before the general public. As I was sorting some clothing a woman started to help me. I noticed that she had not picked up her volunteer name tag, but didn't think too much of that. About an hour later she told me she was from a few towns over and had just come to shop for her grand kids. But someone told her that only helpers could shop today, so, she started helping! When my shift ended after three hours, she was still helping! What an interesting lady. I'll have to remember her for another time . . .
And with that thought, good night and sweet dreams.
Monday, October 15, 2012
October 15, 2012 Day 1
I can't believe that I get to be a writer! Who knew! I have done so many other things with my life. I've been a computer scientist, a math tutor, and far and away most importantly, a mother of five. But always, always I have come back to writing. Even when I was heavily into computers, it was still there. I was preparing to teach a class on data bases and spreadsheets. As I prepared a somewhat creative exercise for the students my boss asked, "Have you ever considered writing satire?"
I suppose I always just thought of it as a hobby, not something that I could share with others. I have published a couple of articles in the past and made a few attempts at publishing, but still, it was always a hobby. "What changed?" you may ask. Well, my youngest is in school full time. I have time to have a second career. I explored the typical avenues, but in the end none of them really panned out like I would have liked. My husband suggested I go the writing route. I tried to keep a straight face while he was talking, but inside I was jumping up and down like a little kid!
So, here I am, day 1. It's not really day one on writing, after all I would have to go back to elementary school for that, to my early fanciful stories. (I think my first was about a little, little girl that lived in a rose.) And this isn't day one of my current writing adventures. I started a book last year that I am trying to get published as we speak. It isn't even the first day I started taking this seriously.
Okay, so what is it? It's the first day of my new routine. I realized I can't work at home, too many distractions. So, I decided that every morning I would head off to the library, computer in tow, to have several uninterrupted hours all to myself.
I've only been here a short time and it is already eye-opening. The library opens at 9 am. I needed to stop by my son's school for some PTA business, so I arrived at about 9:10. The parking lot was already quite full! Who would have thought? It is a great library, but still, who knew? I wonder what they are all up to? Hmmm . . . good writing fodder.
I happen to live in Cuyahoga county Ohio, home to one of the country's very best library systems. And the branch I visit has been recently remodeled. It has wonderful nooks and crannies that are perfect for hiding away for reading or writing in peace. What's even better is that I am sitting by a wall of windows looking out on the beautiful fall foliage. New England may get all the glory for fall leaves, but it couldn't be any better than what I see outside my window.
Could there be a better setting for starting my new, crazy adventure? We'll see . . .
I suppose I always just thought of it as a hobby, not something that I could share with others. I have published a couple of articles in the past and made a few attempts at publishing, but still, it was always a hobby. "What changed?" you may ask. Well, my youngest is in school full time. I have time to have a second career. I explored the typical avenues, but in the end none of them really panned out like I would have liked. My husband suggested I go the writing route. I tried to keep a straight face while he was talking, but inside I was jumping up and down like a little kid!
So, here I am, day 1. It's not really day one on writing, after all I would have to go back to elementary school for that, to my early fanciful stories. (I think my first was about a little, little girl that lived in a rose.) And this isn't day one of my current writing adventures. I started a book last year that I am trying to get published as we speak. It isn't even the first day I started taking this seriously.
Okay, so what is it? It's the first day of my new routine. I realized I can't work at home, too many distractions. So, I decided that every morning I would head off to the library, computer in tow, to have several uninterrupted hours all to myself.
I've only been here a short time and it is already eye-opening. The library opens at 9 am. I needed to stop by my son's school for some PTA business, so I arrived at about 9:10. The parking lot was already quite full! Who would have thought? It is a great library, but still, who knew? I wonder what they are all up to? Hmmm . . . good writing fodder.
I happen to live in Cuyahoga county Ohio, home to one of the country's very best library systems. And the branch I visit has been recently remodeled. It has wonderful nooks and crannies that are perfect for hiding away for reading or writing in peace. What's even better is that I am sitting by a wall of windows looking out on the beautiful fall foliage. New England may get all the glory for fall leaves, but it couldn't be any better than what I see outside my window.
Could there be a better setting for starting my new, crazy adventure? We'll see . . .
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