Writing

I’m Back

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Dipping my toe into the blogging sea I once again dive into these endless waters.   Where was I?  Swimming in another ocean, named my novel.  Well, it’s done.  And I’ve been to New York City looking for an agent to represent my work.  The writer’s conference was hosted by the International Women’s Writers Guild.    This conference was one of the least expensive I could find that offered individul meetings with agents.  If  you have recently perused the cost of writer’s conferences you know then, fellow writer, they can be very expensive.  

So what is my novel about? I can’t spill the beans just yet.  Somehow it takes the power out of the whole project if I describe it in a blog post.   But I will say that it has been quite an adventure of time and space.  And he research has been consuming.  I travelled back to Elizabethan England and had to learn Early Modern English.  Yes, the kind that is spoken in Shakespeare.  Just enough to give a taste, not overwhelm the reader, because that would boggle the mind and slow the story.   Then there was the science itself.  I relied on David Bohm’s theories of the universe to explain time travel and why this could be possible.  Quite simply,  Bohm states that the universe is a dynamic hologram. 

 


 
 

No science fiction in the story, but some of the characters speak of the possiblity of time travel because of these theories.  I also immersed myself in psychology and psychological theories, because this is an important part of the story.  And the symbolism.  Should I even get started on the symbolism?  Probably not. 

Why would I go through all this trouble?  Because I was inspired, lit on fire with a passion I wanted to share with you, my one day reader.  So you too can be inspired.   And be transported to another time and another place and wonder about reality.  And Shakespeare! 

I’ll let you know when it’s published.  And of course share with you the journey along the way.  Because I’m back.

Writers’ Block: Concrete or Myth?

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There was a story about a writer who couldn’t write.  Who knows how the story got passed down because it wasn’t written down.  Because the writer couldn’t write.

But, like those oral tales from the beginning of time when people would snort or grunt so came the idea of writers’ block.

I’m here to snort it isn’t true.

Does a stockbrocker get money block?  No.  They look for a way for the money to flow.  Does a plumber get plumber’s block?  No.  Plumbers are there to clean out the pipes.  And you are there to clean out your psych.  So let the words flow!  Clean out your pipes.

If you care to build brick by brick a block for yourself then it IS true.

But when you have to write, you just do it.

Can you speaK?  I think so.  Then you can write.  Well, that isn’t quite right.  If you can think words, then you can write.  That’s a better description.

When I first started writing it was hard to give myself permission.  I constantly questioned myself. I thought, am I doing this right? 

And just who the hell is going to give me permission?  So I read articles about writers’ block.  Of course, it seems like a million years ago so maybe it was all etched in stone tablets.

Don’t wait for permission.  Just do it.

Right now I have a million things to do.  To write.  Because I’m a writer.  And photograph.  Because I’m photographer.

I don’t have the time to worry about it.  I have to stay focused in the NOW and do it.  Sorry if I sound like the proverbial Nike commercial, but it’s true.

We build the existential angst up in our mind because we think things must be perfect in order for us to create.  There is no perfect time when the angels will sing and whisper to you in that oh so angelic way that your time has come.

Alright, sometimes they will.  Sometimes your muse will come to you and you will burn through pages like there is no tomorrow.  But usually?  No.  It won’t happen.  Sometimes you will come to the page and hate it.  You will dislike the fact that you write for a living and you will want to do something else.  Anything else.  Like pull beets in Siberia.  Alright, this isn’t quite right.  Usually our fantasies taken on a more exalted hue.  Like sailing the Caribbean in a 50 foot sailboat and cooking exquisite gourmet dishes that include ingredients like saffron and indigo.  Indigo is an ink!

Usually if you cannot bear to write it’s because of a few things:

You feel too self conscious.

You are comparing yourself to other people who you feel are better writers.

So do this in the age of numbers and quick fixes:

1. Fuhgettaboutit.  Get over yourself already!

2. You be the judge of yourself.  Don’t let anyone else be.  Get on with it.

Just do it.

But if you really want to read more about the block, please visit Graham Strong’s hilarious diagnosis and treatment of this existential disease that is bound to plague writers at one time or another.  Go ahead, innoculate yourself.

Photocredit: © Ellen Wilson

Clean the Toilet and Become a Writer

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I cringe when I think of how many MFA (Master of Fine Art) graduates in writing universites are flushing out.  Open any writer’s magazine and the ads are chuck full of these programs.  To the brim.

It bothers me that all these fresh young things graduate from college and instantly enroll in MFA writing programs expecting to write the great American novel.

Where is the experience?  Where is the life lived?

I’d argue that an auto mechanic who has 10-15 years out of school with a strong desire to write has a better chance of writing the great American novel than a fresh faced newbie right out of grad school.

You have to live your life and digest your experience before the words can percolate through your system and be transformed into the fruitful manure of stories.  Notice I didn’t say shit.  There is enough of that out there.

You don’t need any degree or any program to make you a writer.  In fact, it may debilitate you in the long run.  I am always reading about editors complaining that this program or that program is putting out similar types of writers who write in very similar styles.

All you need to become a writer is a desire to write.  And as you progress through life you may wind up writing that great American novel.

I used to clean expensive homes that were rented to vacationers on the shores of Lake Michigan.  I did not mind cleaning toilets.  What bothered me was picking up the trash of people who went on vacation.  It would reduce me to tears, and on a few occasions, heaving sobs.

The people on vacation would throw their garbage will nill into the garage, barely bagged, where I had to collect it, put it in my Jeep, and take it to the dumpster miles down the road.

This job taught me that people on vacation do not think of the person that will picking up after them.  On vacation they are suddenly reduced to spoiled two year olds without their mommy telling them to make sure they GET IT in the trash, Dear. 

But I can harvest this for my writing.  I can use this crap and turn it into the compost which my characters will grow out of.

And I’m a richer person for it.

Photocredit:  © Ellen Wilson