Untangling Tales

There’s a lovely list of advice making the Twitter circuit now.  Here are my favorites– not all are original, but all I want to be able to return to.

Diana Athill

• You don’t always have to go so far as to murder your darlings – those turns of phrase or images of which you felt extra proud when they appeared on the page – but go back and look at them with a very beady eye. Almost always it turns out that they’d be better dead. (Not every little twinge of satisfaction is suspect – it’s the ones which amount to a sort of smug glee you must watch out for.)

Margaret Atwood

• Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.
• Other people can help you a bit, but ­essentially you’re on your own. ­Nobody is making you do this: you chose it, so don’t whine.
• Don’t sit down in the middle of the woods. If you’re lost in the plot or blocked, retrace your steps to where you went wrong. Then take the other road. And/or change the person. Change the tense. Change the opening page.

Roddy Doyle

• Do be kind to yourself. Fill pages as quickly as possible; double space, or write on every second line. Regard every new page as a small triumph
• Do give the work a name as quickly as possible. Own it, and see it. Dickens knew Bleak House was going to be called Bleak House before he started writing it. The rest must have been easy.
• Do change your mind. Good ideas are often murdered by better ones.

(more…)

New things to be, to do, to try.

Reminders of things I’m not, I can’t, or am afraid of.

I mentioned a while back that my world has changed significantly in the last 6 months.

Isn’t it interesting (she said with an eye-roll) that no matter how much changes, there is still more to do.  But then, according to some people, if we got it all figured out we’d be done living.

I say I’d be willing to test that theory.

Since June I have:

• Achieved and maintained a healthy weight (nearly 3 months at goal, now).
• Learned loads of new recipes
• Established a baseline for homeschooling
• Begun extra-curricular activities for the children
• Learned that I am capable of discipline and a species of consistency
• Learned that I respond well to a clear plan

I have not:

• come up with any effective laundry system (we still need two weeks worth of clothes per person)
• established a regular “creative” time with the kids
• retained the motivation to follow one of my beautifully thoughtful schedules more than two days in a row
• ingrained how to spell RECIPE with only one ‘i’

~ ~ ~

Sitting on the edge of a new year I’m aching again to craft the perfect document that will for once keep me on-track through this hack at a new beginning.

I’d been toes-off-the-edge-of-the-diving-board several days when God brought me Sunday to this passage in Deuteronomy 7 :

¹⁷ “If you say to yourself, ‘These nations are greater than I; how can I drive them out?’ ¹⁸ do not be afraid of them. Be sure to remember what the LORD your God did to Pharaoh and all Egypt: ¹⁹ the great trials that you saw, the signs and wonders, the strong hand and outstretched arm, by which the LORD your God brought you out. The LORD your God will do the same to all the peoples you fear. ²⁰ The LORD your God will also send the hornet against them until all the survivors and those hiding from you perish.  ²¹ Don’t be terrified of them, for the LORD your God, a great and awesome God, is among you. ²² The LORD your God will drive out these nations before you little by little. You will not be able to destroy them all at once; otherwise, the wild animals will become too numerous for you.  ²³ The LORD your God will give them over to you and throw them into great confusion until they are destroyed. ²⁴ He will hand their kings over to you, and you will wipe out their names under heaven. No one will be able to stand against you; you will annihilate them.”

God, on the power of his reputation, is assuring His people that nothing needs to intimidate them.

He has a plan that ends with all objects of intimidation being removed; but it’s not quickly, and not because He lacks the power.

²² The LORD your God will drive out these nations before you little by little. You will not be able to destroy them all at once; otherwise, the wild animals will become too numerous for you.

I think of all the faults, flaws and failings I want gone. NOW.

Then in the back of my mind is the story of the fellow who was freed, only to end up worse than before.

If (as I’ve tried in New Years past) I attempt too many changes at once I will, best case synario, fail at some rather than all.

At worst I cease to maintain even that which I’ve wrestled into reality.

I believe God was showing me his “order of operations” and generously sharing His reasons. I believe God promises victory over all that would make His people ineffective, but also that he’ll not give me “lands” faster than I can maintain them.

It’s a twist, I suppose, on the old line about God not giving us more than we can handle; I just never thought of freedom(s) in quite that way.

…The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.

The conversion of this blog post and this novel was the motivation for my recent purge of words.

The impressively quick process of cutting gives me great hope and excitement that (once I’ve reviewed my second half well enough to cut it similarly mercilessly) I’ll be in completely “normal” teritory on my word-count.

What neither motivating source gave me, however, was hints or guidelines about where to look to begin cutting.

I’m down over 10,000 words since I started seriously cutting two days ago: setting word-count at 116,486 as I dive into the second half of my story.

Please, no snarky comments about how cheap my work must be to cut so much so quickly.  A big part of being able to do this was

1. My *blah* over the many-but-unenriching words in Magyk
2. The familiarity-with-distance that I had from (relatively) recent revision, allowing me to be certain of content without the seductive re-reading that creates the certainty these words must be read by everyone.

So here is my contribution to the discussion, for whatever it’s worth.

Things these last two days have taught me about good words to cut:

• If the majority of a passage is “character development” or explaining something to the reader, I just need better/clearer writing in a different spot– not 700 words here.
  • Blue will always be blue when you see in in the light– it doesn’t matter how much of it you see.  In the same way, Runa will always present as Runa, as long as I know who she is and present that.
    • She is not the main character, so if her inner life is a little less-explored, I will be forgiven.
• If the main event of a passage can be explained in a sentence– and that information can be inserted with fewer words elsewhere– that would be a good idea.
  • From my notes:
    • Cut the long conversation on the way back from the first fight (End of scene 42).  Somewhere else need to make clear:
      • Ivan adores Linnea
        
      • On the strength of his love for her she wrings a promise not to use magic for a time
        
• If watching a scene creates more questions (that require more words to answer) about something outside the main action, cutting is a gift to yourself: you are reducing your to-do list.
• If you see something distinctly outside of your pattern (in my case it was switching POV within a chapter– only four out of 50+ scenes had this) prime material for cutting is before you.
  • By the same rule I am currently prevented from cutting what I feel are a couple weaker scenes, simply because their disappearance would break the rhythm that has been giving structure to the whole up till now.
    • This will probably warrant “professional help.”  Unless my test-readers think more of it that I do.  But I find that hard to imagine.
• If the result is more important than the process (be honest: sometimes you’re only getting from point A to point B), see if you can just jump-cut to point B.  Trust that your readers (who were just shown how much the character needs to leave point A) will make the leap with you.

These are the reasons behind my current flurry of slicing.  The fact I’ve been forced to fallow the novel several weeks helps too, I’ll admit.

Any more ideas from the audience?  What kind of suggestions can you extrapolate from that book or movie (or mss) that wouldn’t *end*?

I am in an exhausted daze today.

Not the lack-of-sleep kind, either.  I am simply drained.

It’s been so long since this happened that I was digging for what I used to explain it in the past.

There is a sine wave theory that I used to subscribe to, that any amount of high-energy or “upper” experience would then be followed by a crash of equal extremity.  Once I recognized the pattern I learned to expect it.  And while I never liked the crash I at least wasn’t caught by surprise.

Having this way of thinking firmly embedded led to some surprises as I got older.

For example, I never crashed after my fun times with Jay.  I never consciously came off the high of “the honeymoon phase” after we were married.  And while I get the “I want to get back to my book” and “I want to work on my project” urges, I’ve never had the I need my space moments I’ve read about.

Since being married I’d had so few “dropping” moments that I was near congratulating myself about how “level” I’d become.  Part of me wondered if I should be disappointed I was missing out on some wild “highs” but I was quite happy/content, and figured any more was worth missing if I continued to skip the lows.

Now, from my older-and-wiser perspective (and the little I’ve learned about introverts), with the experience of the last 24-hours fresh in my mind, I think I got it wrong with the sine-curve model.

The perceived high was real– generally supplied from a great deal of mental stimulation and rapid-fire conversation with a group of people.  The following crash, corresponding with what I’m feeling today, was not a whiplash or punishment for having fun, it is simply my inwardly-wired system trying to rebuild after a higher-than usual drain.

My interactions tend to be with one individual or thinking “in well-worn grooves of thought.” Rapid-fire conversation with a number of people, or very long conversations over many topics are exciting to me.  They sort of prove my brain to myself, and I enjoy that; but it’s distressingly similar to over-working your body in Ultimate Frisbee.

~

You don’t just quit because you’re tired or sore– you get the adrenaline (or mental) rush to get through it competently, even well, but you’re gonna feel it the next day.  And I am.

~ ~ ~

I used to think I was very different from Joule– her high-energy, outgoing, never-quit-ness.  But I was wrong.

(Stop laughing.)

Change the tennis ball to an interesting conversation, and I’ll chase it till your arm gets tired without slowing my outrun.  As with Joule it’s the “bringing it home” that will show my weariness.  I’ll attack the idea, catch it up in a neat little package, then forget the point or how to bring it home.

So you’ve been warned.

~

Just now I feel like Joule after one of those outings: flopped out; eyes squinched shut, hoping everybody will choose to step over her rather than make her move out of the way.

And even so, you pull out that tennis ball and the light goes on in her eyes…

I’ve been warned…

This morning was going to be a phone calling day.  I think that will have to wait till tomorrow.

When the poignancy of my “last” baby phase passing reached me at last it was nothing like I’d imagined.

No craving a baby to hold, no wishing for more of my own.

Mostly, I’m pathetically disappointed that my acquired skills in that area are now obsolete.

Isn’t that sad?

Anyway, just because I can I have here a compilation of all the RAFTS I’ve offered to moms that visit my blog.

• Is “homemaking” enough of a vocation?
• “How to become a saint while changing diapers.”
• Motherhood vs. Career?
  • my basic stance, in response to a specific question.
• Children’s songs– not as innocent as they could be
• Making Mom’s outing(s) easier on Dad
  • pertains particularly to couples with very young children
• How to pray for people you don’t know
  • Including your child(ren)’s future spouse
• Talking with kids about inappropriate touch
• *Favorite* parenting books
• Baby Signing
  • Yes! I’m a believer
• Carpe Diem… Patiently
  • Reminding ourselves we can wait
• Kids and Questions (part 1)
• How to get your husband to help
  • suggestions; not a spell or prescription
• Making Pedialyte more palatable
  • Nasty, nasty tasting stuff.  Don’t know why they can’t change that.
• Answering 9-month-old questions
• Kids and Questions (part 2)
• Lock-ups– a “centering” tool
  • A way of calming some children
• The Hidden Rules of Moms’ Groups
  • A bit cynical, maybe, but there’s truth here too
• Why you need sled in your car if you have cold winters
• Advice for organizing your life/time with littles
  • From someone who knows better than me
• Fitting your Medicine cabinet into your carry-on
  • No, we’re not med-intensive people, but I’d rather have it and not need it than the reverse
• Be slow to label others’ kids
  • It is too easy to form a snap judgment with too little information
• “Next Child” Advice
  • Books abound that assume you’re preparing for your first baby.  What about later?
• Explaining Halloween
  • From someone who doesn’t like it
• Explaining Boycott to Children
  • Separating how we spend money from the people who work there

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Today’s give-away is for two books– one new and one used

• What Every Mom Needs by Morgan and Kuykendall
• In the Wee Hours: Up-in-the-Nighttime Stories for Mom compiled by Mary Beth Lagerborg

Leave a comment by Friday, April 3rd to enter the drawing.

Be sure to check the drawings that still have some days left, and thanks for visiting my blog this week!

To finish a thought from yesterday’s post, I’m not trying to be critical, or imply that true artists won’t doubt themselves.

I’m feeling the odd security of coming at this from the “other side” as someone who’s been *good* at a number of things, and only have this one where I can’t stop.

(From another conversation, I offer a this:)

The story goes that there was an aspiring young musician who cornered a world-famous violinist and begged the master to listen to him play. If the master was encouraging the young man would devote his life to music. So he played and when he finished the master said: “You lack the fire.” Decades later, the two met again, the young man now a successful business man. “You changed my life,” the man said. “It was a bitter disappointment, giving up music, but I’ve had a good life in the world of commerce. But I’ve always wondered, how could you tell so readily that I lacked the fire?”

“Oh, I hardly listened when you played,” replied the master. “That’s what I tell everyone who plays for me–that they lack the fire.”

“But that’s unforgivable,” said the younger man. “I could have been another Kreisler, another Heifitz–”

The old man shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “If you had had the fire, you would have paid no attention to me.”

Just in the last few months I have become more and more at peace with writing as my vocation (the timing made me think of my friend’s comment about entering my 30s).  And as I’ve shifted my thinking from the many to the few I’ve felt an increased peace.

A lovely Boundless article about dreams and calling has this wonderful definition of vocation from Frederick Buechner:

“[It is] the intersection of your own deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger.”

I don’t think we need to feel gladness every moment we do this (I don’t think I’ve yet dredged up joy while I’m mopping vomit in my mother vocation) but having no joy, constant annoyance, or even sorrow, should be clues that something is missing.

I’m a pretty steady believer in the concept of a hierarchy of needs (though mine doesn’t line up exactly with Maslow’s), so I’ll back up a moment and say that this seeking vocation is basically more detailed work than is even relevant without first having peace with God through submission to Jesus Christ.  That is the place to begin if you lack peace in your life.

~

Here I must repeat one of my *favorite* quotes from C.S. Lewis that was so useful to me when I first entered this stage of awareness:

God makes each soul unique. If He had no use for all these differences I do not see why He should have created more souls than one. Be sure the ins and outs of your individuality are no mystery to Him; and one day they will no longer be a mystery to you.

There are those who think Christians should never be unhappy if they really have a correct relationship with God.

There are those (not religious at all) who believe the right soulmate will make them fully happy (and any evidence to the contrary is generally taken instead as evidence they have not yet *found* the right soulmate).

I believe there is a happiness and delight that can only be found in right relationships, but I also believe there is no shame in seeking out what your own “differences” are. Like Lewis wrote, If [God] had no use for all these differences I do not see why He should have created more souls than one.  

Since we’ve experienced more and less happiness, we know degrees exist, and so it is entirely reasonable to assume some things can make us happier than others.

In the same way that I could adapt to being a firefighter but don’t think I’d ever be a really good one, I could pursue another vocation, and learn contentment from God within that less-comfortable situation.  But thanks be to God, He has not asked me to do that.  I can be true both to God and the nature He put into me, finding greater joy in that than (I believe) I’d ever find as a firefighter, or anything else God didn’t make me to be.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Today’s give-away is for The Blue Day Book, a fun collection of pictures with a sympathetic narrator.

Leave a comment between now and Sunday the 29th to enter the drawing.

Check back to sign-up for more books this week.

Aren’t forums great?  I’ll have nothing to write one moment– no burning desire to put any words down, then a simple, innocent question will spark a whole essay I didn’t know wanted out.

~

Case in point: A question recently from someone on her first book, claiming no training in writing, and wondering how she can compete with the mass of work “out there.”

After re-reading I think my response sounds rather tart, and maybe I should have let it sit an hour before posting… but by then I was afraid answers like, “don’t give up” and “you can do it!” would have been par for the course, then I’d really look snarky.

One of the most liberating things I ever read was a woman describing an author’s pannel she’d been on where another author gave permission to a WWII survivor not to write her story.

Everyone keeps telling me I should write a book, the old woman said nervously.

Think long and hard before you do, the writer told her.  Writing a book is hard work, if you don’t love it you’ll never make it to the end (and might feel like you failed in something important).

I’ve thought of that exchange a number of times when listening to other people talk about the book they want to write, and that’s what I think of first when I hear someone new doubting him/herself.

Self-doubt is not always a bad thing.  Sometimes it is entirely reasonable and accurate. . .  This is a good place to apply discernment in personal interaction, and I beg you other writers to simply ask for encouragement if that what you need!

Of course, a bit of my annoyance may be unfair; some people just don’t know themselves well enough to know which they need: encouragement to go on or permission to let go.

~ ~ ~

Especially with your first book I’d say just enjoy the journey. Because if you can’t, you shouldn’t expect to make a go of this writing thing.

You don’t need “formal training” but you do need to read about writing, and learn from people who know the difference between good and bad writing.

**One thing that really bothers me in/about the arts is the illusion some have that that getting “good” on your own is somehow more worthy or perfect or “pure”  than learning from more experienced people.**

Setting yourself under those who know is quite simply the most efficient way to get bast the basics and begin growing truly innovative because the artist no longer has to design the foundation on which he will build.

Don’t be embarrassed to seek instruction– whether in person or from books.

And if you lower your expectations on this current work of yours, say, to “practice novel” rather than “publishable novel” you’ll get the chance to learn the most important (I’m told) lesson about noveling (*finishing*) without the extra pressure of will anyone buy this?

I’ve read that most published authors did not publish the first book they wrote, so we should check our expectations against that.

Just write. Put words down without trying to look perfect– that comes later.

So here’s the quick version of my advice (as unqualified as I may be to offer any):

• don’t keep writing if it’s not enjoyable/fulfilling (there’re too many fun things to do to waste time on something you don’t enjoy),
• actively seek to improve yourself through outside input (don’t assume you have everything you need inside you: no one does), and then
• just sit down and write without expectations until you can (because of your research and reading) begin to evaluate the quality of your writing.

Then keep going.

**Eventually you’ll also have to get up the nerve to show your work to other writers and see how accurate your perceptions of your own work are (and be willing to be wrong about yourself– in either direction).

But that’s not something you have to do from the beginning. Start with enjoyment. If that’s there, the rest will come more naturally.**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Today’s give-away is for Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Leave a comment between now and Saturday the 28th to enter the drawing.

Check the other posts during party week to sign-up for more books.

I *loved* this part in the dedication of the book A Curse Dark as Gold:

And lastly to my husband, Christopher, for always being there.  If I wrote you into a story, no one would believe you were real.

The problem with finding something that expresses your thoughts so perfectly is knowing you can’t use it yourself. . .

~

Has anybody told you about what to expect in your thirties?

The question came from a person who is very positive, so I didn’t fear the answer as much as I would have from another source, but still I felt myself bracing for what would come next.

It’s *fabulous* (she said).  You’ve got all this stuff worked out and foundations settled in your twenties that you can just use and enjoy it all in your thirties.”

And while I have an inherent mistrust for the exaltation of any age (after all, it will eventually be over), I can certainly see this “best of the thirties” being rolled into the forties and beyond.

So I’m thankful for the encouragement and the timing.  It will be at 30 that I truly have to knuckle down to an actual teaching regimen.  The implication (and growing evidence) I could be at a “cruising” stage in my thinking and functioning takes a huge load off my mind.

What do you call that texting shorthand that relies heavily on abbreviations (RU OK?) and initials (BTW/KWIM)?

I just came up with one I think is original, and whether or not it is, it is supremely appropriate for me: RAFTS

As in, Random Advice From a Total Stranger.

The internet seems made for this: we’re all throwing out RAFTS at some time or another, me (I suspect) more than many.

So there you go.  If it’s new and spreads across the net (“Hope you don’t mind RAFTS, I was just hoping it might help”), you’ll know where it started.

Or you’ll laugh at how slow I am to catch on. {shrug} As long as it’s not in my face…

Have you ever thought about how, technically, people at the same level as you are not qualified to give you advice?

Take parenting, for example.  I’ve offered quite a bit of random advice here, all written down because I expect it to be useful (to someone… sometime… somewhere…) but if you were looking for real results, you wouldn’t look at my advice.

For that you would look around for some mother whose kids are grown and turned out the way you want your kids to turn out.  That’s results.  That’s experience.

Unfortunately, those moms can also be most insensitive to the place where you are currently living.

“Oh yeah,” says one lady enthusiastically, the first time I bring my 2-year-old and 6-month-old to practice for the musical Beauty and the Beast, “I brought my four kids with me *everywhere.* It’s so good to have them watching real life.”

Six weeks later she was irritated with me for bringing my baby, even with the 2-year-old farmed out.

I thought it was tremendously silly: even wearing the baby I could do all the choreography, and felt rather pleased with myself at that.

So I am not an expert in mothering: I am only keeping notes about what’s worked for me as I go along.  And sometimes that has been helpful.

In the same way

I am not a best-selling novelist.  I am not even a published writer (beyond our local paper), but I read people who are, and I am writing. I also happen to be very good at compiling and extrapolating.

So.  I have advice about writing.  Yay for me. 

I’ll just share the thing on my mind just now, that provoked this post, and perhaps I’ll write more in the future.  But if there was one thing I could say to anybody gung-ho about getting published it’s this:

Don’t Trust Yourself.

Aren’t I mean? That’s the opposite of every female-written piece of advice I’ve ever seen published.  But I think it’s very important.

• Humility means seeing things as they are.
• Humility makes you easier to work with.
• Publishers and agents prefer people that are easy to work with

If you’re already convinced you’re a great writer, that you can slap your best stuff together on the first go around, I (or anyone else who might disagree with your assessment) am not going to seem all that helpful.  And you’re not going to be very easy to work with.  The trick is to let other people (the kind of people who should know) praise your writing.

There’s a great story in G.K. Chesterton’s book Orthodoxy where Ches is speaking with a publisher who remarked, “That man will get on; he believes in himself.”

Chesterton’s reply began with the observation that those who believe most in themselves are the ones who end up in lunatic asylums.  When the publisher protested they don’t all go there Chesterton agreed.

“And you of all men ought to know them.  That drunken poet from whom you would not take a dreary tragedy, he believed in himself.  That elderly minister with an epic from whom you were hiding in a back room, he believed in himself.  If you consulted your business experience instead of your ugly individualistic philosophy, you would know that believing in himself is one of the commonest signs of a rotter.

Actors who can’t act believe in themselves; and debtors who won’t pay.  It would be much truer to say that a man will certainly fail, because he believes in himself.

Strong words, and mentioned largely for their hyperbole, I mean them to illustrate my point; that is, no matter how much we believe in something, unless there is external proof backing up the belief our own effort or enthusiasm is irrelevant.

So, write if you must (it’s certainly cheaper than therapy!), don’t try to stop if you can’t, and feel grateful for your certainty if you know God had called you to write.

Just remember that He may not be calling that publisher to distrubute your work, and you’ll have healthier expectations.