The Seeds of My Writing Heart

"I think of the life I was fated to – as a woman and a mother – as my big luck. Although I don’t believe a writer has to personally live an experience to write about it or to emotionally intuit the feelings and thoughts related to that experience, motherhood – the process of giving birth and caring for an infant — enlarges and changes one’s view as a writer and as a citizen of the world. What we write about, what we vote for, what we protest against, what we work towards are all influenced by giving life, not taking it."
~On Being a Woman, A Writer, and A Citizen of the World
Alice Hoffman’s Keynote Speech at the PEN Hemingway Awards at the John F. Kennedy Library, Boston, MA
March 30th, 2008

I may not have begun my writing as early as some, but once I started on this path, I'd argue that I felt just as strongly as those starry eyed elementary kids scribbling away in notebooks dreaming of writing. For me, my writing journey began after I gave birth to my first son.  After he arrived it was as if my life was turned upside down only to grow into a completely new, fuller life. I was blind-sided by how whole my life had finally become. I lived and breathed in a way that I never even imagined was possible before he was even a twinkle in my eye.

For me, to give life is one of the most moving, compassion building experiences.  Not only was the change within me the seed of my writing beginnings, but motherhood still actively effects all my writing. I feel depth and understanding toward others in a way I never had before my son came and I see opportunity and potential in a very warm and real way that I never had before he arrived as well. And, when you think about it, isn't that the very core of writing?  For me, the very best works I've read are about people whom you can feel and hope for  An author creates an argument for their characters and when they are successful they present us with people whose fictional story beats with life, whose actions we bite our nails over, hoping for the best.

My little ones are the same way.  I live and breathe for them. I feel that love and connection with them, the kind where I know I would die for them if that need arose.  My sweet children will always be my priority.  I drop the pen when necessary to come to their needs, be they spiritual, physical, emotional, or whatever.  In fact, this is part of why I took a hiatus this last year, so I could be with them in ways I hadn't been able to for awhile.

Now, having had a chance to be away from writing, I feel it calling me back.  It's interesting, because after all this time away, I almost can feel that very first drive I felt when I began writing in the first place.  The more I think about it, it all comes back to the creation of life.  Though the choice to begin writing was the beginning of a difficult but enjoyable journey, it's because of the depth I've felt from having given birth that I really feel a need to share my stories. I have my little rascals to thank for this frustrating but fun path I've chosen.

I can't figure out why that just seems so fitting.

Anyways, how about you? How do your connections with people in your life effect your choice to be a writer?

Random Appearances

Still buffering...

...speaking of Netflix's connection availability, hello.

I haven't been around for awhile, you say?  Ah, I've been busy.

Anyways, as a part of that, I've had a realization.  (Actually, I've had a lot of brain thudding realizations in my life--that's the kind of person I am; I walk around in ignorance until truth happily slaps me in the face and I can't do anything but accept it.) Last year, I had a crucial writing related realization about myself.  I'm a self-sabotaging over-attempter...or something of the sort.  This is key to the whole dilemma I am about to explain.

Oh. A self-sabotaging over-attempter? What is that, you ask?  Well, I set myself lofty goals.  You know. Change the world. Help initiate world peace.  Publish a book.  Keep a blog.  Then, I haphazardly go after them--wholeheartedly of course. Also, of course, if you talk to me in person, I probably would never admit that I want to change the world.  Normal people don't talk about that.

Moving on.

I have to admit, that last goal may not be so lofty to many of you out there. But there are the little guys like me who really haven't (as much as we've tried) figured out how to keep on with a blog (something about there not being any random antagonists taking over the blog post plot, which seems be a key entertaining part of when I do my novel writing, or something.)  Anyways, it's the little goals that get you to the higher ones, right?  Well, I find myself digging deep and heavy into those goals until I can't stop dreaming about it.  Or, in this instance, I read and analyze, live and breathe literature.  Then I go and roll around in an English lit degree.  Then I chum it up with other literature people such as authors, other aspiring writers, literature enthusiasts, etc. (See this post for unsuccessful attempts.)  Then, once I'm thoroughly drenched in ideas and intentions, I flop. Translation--I run out of whatever was gunning me on, I can't grasp the muse fueling me so previously, or whatever.  Whatever it is, it slips away. 

For those of you out there who have an analyzing nature like mine, you might have a psychoanalytical explanation for what I'm doing.  Yeah, the giving in to failure before the opportunity to be disappointed presents itself.  This is something I've seen a lot of in the writing world actually, among writers who've yet to get published.  However, as much as I've seen it, and even do it myself, it doesn't mean I actually am trying to be a failure. Ah, life's ironies.

Maybe your thinking that I've got the emphasis all wrong here. Maybe I'm putting on myself unrealistic pressure to perform, to fill a need that doesn't ring of the right priorities? I mean, yes, I want to create something great but I've gone round the whole bout of affirming that, yes, I am a successful human being without having published a novel.  I don't need recognition to validate my worth. That's not part of my drive to write. In fact, I've gone through that round of thinking for the past year and still have been wracking my brain for a solution as to why I contradict myself.  Okay, yes, there it is.  A whole year. I've been on a writing hiatus for that long. (Uh huh, yikes.) (Does it show?)(I miss using parenthesis--does that show?  While I'm at it, I'm not sure that I've ever done entirely well applying writing technicalities such as correct grammar and/or punctuation, but you're going to politely overlook any mistakes, right? Right.) Moving on.

Anyways, it isn't until reaching a more thorough understanding of myself after this hiatus that I see that as much as I might have once reached for some sort of validation through writing, I don't want to get published for that reason.  I want to get stories out into the world because, well, I go back to those other lofty goals again, the main one being that I want to change the world. I'm not one of those writers who writes to thrill others.  I don't write for basic entertainment of the mind.  I write because of those very realizations I've had, and I hope that writing about them might help others gain a glimmer of what I've learned from life.

(my favorite quote)

No, I don't think I'm Gandhi, filled with life changing proverbs, but I know I learn from what I read.  I, too, want to create something that joins the vasts of literature that uplifts the human collective experience. It doesn't have to be comparable to literary greats. Maybe something simply enough to pay humble dues to those who gave me something to read, learn from, and enjoy.  Kind of the literary version of that old Christian commandment, 'do unto others as you would have done unto you'. I want, therefore I create.  Didn't Carol Shields say, "Write what you want to read"? Basically I think I now break it down to universal karma--wanting to write good works, because I've read good works.  Is that so much to ask?

So, again, we come back to my realization and frustration (big goals and inability to accomplish them, despite years of hard work). I'm conscious of my actions and yet I can't just sit down and complete my stories, despite following all the traditional how to's --butt in seat, plan to plot, or consciously don't plot, write when it flows and then come back later. For that last one, I don't ever come back.  However, this is what I want to do--I want to write and better the world. (Seriously, is this too much to ask to be able to do?)

I just don't know how I am going to do that.  I mean, as far as I've gotten with many of the stories I've written (and I have many, many stories in the works), I've yet to finish one.  Seems ridiculous, right?  Even the clunkiest, most inexperienced of aspiring authors have completed novels, doozies either hiding in a dusty box under a bed, or trembling in their hands as they try to pawn it off on yet another unfortunate family member, though ultimately fated for the circular file.

(How many bins would the unsuccessful works of writers everywhere fill?)

But, no, I don't even have a completed beginner's story to loathe and hide (unless you count the ones I made in elementary school, complete with illustrations--and I can't really loathe a story I made when I was a little child).  Even though I haven't finished any of my novels yet, I still dream big--I want to get that story out.  I'm not thinking of much, here.

 Maybe I could write just one simple story that so subtly helps one person in their life the way authors and stories  have done for my life.  No, not maybe.  At least that.  I'm not even conveying here the depth of this desire. This need to get a story out and touch another life is like a fiery NEED. As I mentioned before, I have taken a break for a year and as much as I try to stay away, writing still invades my mind like it is woven into my core. This part of me wants to touch the world through writing and yet I can't even finish a dang story!!! ---->Insert passionate fist-shake.<---->

This past year I've also come back around again to question myself.  Who am I to think I can change the world?  I stated earlier that I'm an over-attempter.  Maybe that is the wrong wording. Yes.  If anything this year away from writing has taught me not to question myself. Saying I'm an over-attempter this way is like calling it a negative to want to do good or attempt to do good things that are not easy. We are each unique, with desires that only we can carry through. My path may not be like anyone else's, but that doesn't make it wrong or unsuccessful. Also, to question self is a dangerous road leading, when unchecked, to personally proclaimed defeat.

I guess all I have left is to leave my old paths behind and simply move forward.  There is a magic in believing in yourself, in allowing yourself to hope, dream and, well, just do. No matter where that path takes you, That is Frost's road less traveled.  Maybe I am trying to steer my lifeboat too much, where in reality, all we have is an oar to row with and no map to tell us the actuality of that path, but that we either can try or not. Also--don't you worry. These won't be the last of overused metaphors. ;) They're crappy like worn-out old shoes but it doesn't mean they don't get the job done. (Cheers to literary laziness at it's best.)

About my writing dilemma, having thought this through over the past months, I sit here now with a new beginning.  This is 2013, the year that succeeded the rumored 2012 world destruction (and yes, I figured life would still roll on this year, unlike the Mayan fanatics).  This is another year that I can go after my goals.  I've gotten to know myself better this year and in a way that perhaps I couldn't have had I otherwise been spending so many hours focusing on writing and other literary indulgences. In a way, as much as I am frustrated to have spent so long going after this goal without success to this date, I feel cleansed.  I can see the progress I have made and what I've learned.  I know that a published story does not equate to success, either, but is instead a roll-of-the-dice concoction of good circumstances and accumulated hard work on the parts of published writers (and sure, a lot of other stuff, but we don't need to worry ourselves over it now that I've gotten to the positive moral here).

Anyways, I guess I'm patting my own back here.  I have to allow myself to dream big, and do what I have to to get there (none of that self-serving, Hollywood-ish backstabbing, survival of the fittest here), even if that means taking breaks from writing, huh? In the meantime, I think I am going to get back to blogging, even if it is, again, just for random appearances. ;) I do what I can when I can. Kind of like Netflix computer servers.

Happy 2013 new year.  Cheers to looking back and seeing the joy in the journey. :)

Thoughts on Past Reads

Not so long ago...

I haven't been blogging much lately because I've had a lot of personal stuff going on.  But this is an anonymous literature blog so we aren't going into that.  Anyways, lately I've been delving into the bookshelves again, feeling like I was ten and going to the library was a shopping spree.

I mean, I've brought home over twenty-five books in the past month and as I've been reading again, I've been looking back on that marvelous site, Goodreads, at past books I've read.  (To the people out there who I pretend reads my blog--no it's not a link to my Goodreads account so you still don't get to see who I am.)

In over four years of serious writing, I've changed how I look at books I read. (And by serious I mean actual butt-in-seat-typing-I-want-to-be-published-one-day serious rather than random jottings or serious writing topics such as why I truly am one hardcore loner, which also will not be brought up on this blog.)

Of course I would look at another writer's work differently than I did when I was younger.  Any writer who wants to get better and is actively improving themselves will learn as they read, becoming more critical in their readings.  But, I was looking at books that I marked in the past as being wonderful and marvelous and realized that maybe, actually...they are kind of crappy. Sure I loved them once but I can't honestly rate them so awesomely now. So, my point is--I'm wondering--who goes back and changes their ratings? Do you?

Have your opinions on previous favorites changed?  If so, how or in what ways?

Am I the only one who feels like they are breaking up with former favorites, the more they read and study writing? (For further elaboration, see my awesomely prodigious illustrations.

Today...

Review: Across the Universe by Beth Revis

So I've been away for awhile.  I'm calling it a health sabbatical.

Anways, I'm here to post my first book review for this blog!  Woot, woot!  And for a talented debut author!  I will make a review debut off her novel debut....uh, eh, sorry.  Sounded wittier in my head.  : / 

Moving on...

When I first heard this story was coming out I had access to the first chapter where it was posted online for reading pre-publication.

I was instantly IN LOVE.

My thoughts post-first chapter: "OMG, must read, MUST READ!!!"

This book had such an interesting concept, so unique and intriguing (dystopian+sci-fi+murder mystery, all on a 300+ year space trip) that I really knew--especially after hearing such good reviews--this book wouldn't be any borrow or check out.  I had to buy it.

And I did.

I read it in two days.

That said, after finishing it today I have come to conclude that I both love and am annoyed by the story, but over all I would recommend this story to anyone. Really, go get it!

So, my nit-pickies?

First off, the main character got to me; Her age felt a little inconsistent.  Sometimes I was wondering, Huh, she's 17?  Really? Not like 10 or something? and other times she seemed to be acting older than 17, not quite the same character as before.  Or maybe those latter parts were just me.  But I found that influenced my ability to relate and become as emotionally involved.

Also a plot technicality (in relation to the ship)--which I heard that the author said is addressed in the next book--which didn't quite make sense with the story or get explained kinda bugged.  I'll definitely read the next one to find out.

Then in the end, I couldn't help but think...REALLY? I felt a little bummed and gypped because I'd figured out the whole story from early on and was hoping there was some twist...except there was and the way that resolved made me question the main character again. And in relation to the ending incident--which I'm sure now has you confused if you haven't read it--I also wasn't totally convinced of the chemistry between the two main characters.

In the end, her writing was very lovely and simple in a pleasing, clean way, and that aspect made any little plot or character annoyance easy to look over.

One last thing--loved her use of the senses and symbolism. All the reference to colors and temperatures, the sun and stars and sky-- very beautiful writing there!!!

 My final thoughts? If you haven't already, go read this book! :)

You Know You're A Writer If...

...the salt and pepper occasionally ends up in the refrigerator.

I've had a few things I've been wanting to blog about, but lately I have had a story invading my mind every free moment.  It's exciting, love it when things really catch fire, but I can't say that everyone around me does, haha.

So, what has happened to you lately or in the past as a result of Writer's Brain?

What We Know

"For myself, I always write about Dublin, because if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the heart of all the cities of the world. In the particular is contained the universal."

~James Joyce

In my opinion, in the end, we all write what we know.  We may start with one idea, have a whole story planned, an intended direction, but the life we've experienced, that is what ultimately comes out in the end

I don't know how many times I've gone into a story with ideas about it, only for it to veer off in it's own direction, into something that rings true to the person I am inside, what I know.  (And just so you know, I'm a fan of letting the subconscious do some good steering of the story).

Am I the only one who finds that what they think they know about their story doesn't end up being the case after all?

Anyways back to the quote.  I think writing is all about writing what we know and letting the universal come out.  I've found myself quite often trying to write about someone who worked an occupation that I'd studied, only to find that it didn't come naturally.  When I thought about another occupation that I'd had when I was younger, and allowed that for my character not only did it fit better, but it allowed a certain flow to the story that wasn't there before--not only because I knew it from a more tactile and personal sense but because there was something about it that my subconscious seemed to pick up and tie to my story.

I guess what I'm wondering, for those of you out there who delve into areas that you haven't lived, how do you create that intimate portrayal in your writing without having real life experience?  I know the imagination plays a big part, and I don't have much problem when it comes to fantasy elements, or creating characters, but when it comes to tying in aspects of the story that are real and others may know better (and in my opinion, should be tied into the/a theme of the story)--how do you do it?

First post/ Introduction

Really, posting to this blog is throwing my words into internet oblivion, but hopefully I will make me some online writing friends in the near future! I don't have my real name here, as you may have noticed, but I figure that will enable me to be more free in what I write.  So, my oodles of future blogging buddies will just have to deal with my anonymity.  Besides, who doesn't like a little mystery? (And just so you know, I may or may not dress as a middle class woman from the 17th century as I write.)

I've got a lot of insecurities when it comes to my writing, but then again, what writer doesn't?  I didn't start writing until, maybe, three years ago--seriously--when I started my first story about a teen girl who 'wins' a trip on a cruise ship (except it isn't a vacation cruise after all, Dunh Dunh Dunh...ah, yet another story to finish) and so I feel, even more so insecure about my writing.  I mean, when I was a child, I didn't want to grow up and be writer.  I wanted to be a nurse.  I didn't know, then, that a nurse would have to see lotsa blood.  Add to my late jump into creative writing, the fact that I married young, and had kiddos soon; My schooling has yet to be finished as well.


So my writing consists of a whole lot of google-search self teaching.  The fact that I have a novel almost complete (of which I cranked out all 56,048 words in about 3 weeks!) makes me feel pretty secure in my efforts.  I'm not just climbing that sand mountain, constantly tearing myself down when I read my suckiness.  I've learned that to succeed, you have to allow yourself to fail.  And with writing, if you fail and crap up an entire story (not that I feel that has entirely happened yet, but close), you can always edit.  So I have come to allow myself to just enjoy the process, in all it's first draft, beginning writer, crappy glory, then I can fine tune until it's beautiful.

But, I have to say that I already find beauty in my rough draft.  My characters so have a life of their own, I can't help but lay awake at night wondering (using my current story as an example) are they going to get together in the end?  Augh! It's worse than reading the first novel in a series and having to wait for the other two or so to come out.  Because it's all on me.  If I don't complete, it isn't going to happen.

Did I mention I don't sleep much anymore?

Anyways, for this blog's future, I hope to post my poetry, creative writing exercises, blab about the stories I am working on and maybe, just maybe post little tid-bits from them.  We'll see.

For now I am going to focus on at least one exercise a week, just to record my process (and hopefully progress?!) as a writer as I work toward writing that novel that, you know, like everyone is going to fall in love with and steal the names of the characters to name their kids after.  Just kidding.  But seriously, I love my story and can't wait to find even just one person in the world who would enjoy it.  That would be so rewarding.

Until then, here's to perfecting the craft!!  (Imagine an alcohol-free beverage toast.)