California Roll

A friend asked me why I'm putting myself through the ordeal of studying Creative Writing in Grad School.

Good question.  I've got a deadline looming on Monday. Need to revise another story for this packet I'll submit. The last story I revised took three weeks of deliberating, going at it, withdrawing, trying again. This time I had only a week when I started; only three days now, and I'm scared.

Most of the time I know why I write, but not this morning  when I awakened from sleep. Today I feel the effort useless.

I had read yesteday the comments from classmates who workshopped this story in July, this story I'm now rewriting. Serious faults with it. Damming faults, or so I feel.

In the first four hours of the morning, these comments from others played and replayed in my mind, making the work of turning it into a satisfying story feel insurmountable. Even after a cup of tea and going to the Y and doing jump jacks, and lunges, and all the movements that usually get my blood and adrenaline moving fast enough to again believe didn't work, I could summon the belief that I can write, that it's worth the effort and inevitable mistakes and correction.

So I told God and my husband how afraid I was. A picture drifted into my mind, a picture of words on paper going out from my body, drifting off into the air. I heard again the words I heard six months ago when God first gave me this picture. "They're just words. They aren't you."

 

That helped, some. Stil I don't want to sit down and work. Still, faith has to wrest control from feeling.

*    *    *

It's after lunch now and I've worked two hours on this story. Good changes are underway and I like what I'm doing. I don't want to quit. I believe now, with help from outside, I can do it.

Writing Regardless

On Monday morning I listed five writing tasks I wanted to do. Now, five days later, I haven't looked once at that list.

Instead I've taught English to four Japanese women, wrote blurbs for our church information booklet and made plum jelly. But I know those aren't real reasons.

Despite vowing to write, my core resists it. This resistance is particularly strong after I receive criticism. The child in me whispers, "If I'm not going to get the praise I want, why bother?" So it is that other obligations appear more attractive.

In Breath for the Bones by poet and speaker Luci Shaw, I find a reason to write regardless. When I start writing, I discover things I didn't know, both about myself and God. Writing is a way I connect with God. It doesn't have to be good enough for others--it's just good for me.

New Mexico

I returned Sunday from eight days in Santa Fe, New Mexico spent at an artists conference for people of faith, called The Glen. The pueblo style architecture of St. John's College, where the Glen is held, adds a wonderful ambience to this annual event. Also a lovely lily pond replete with a water fall and orange, yellow and white carp gave me refuge. Eleven different workshops in the visual arts and writing were offered to participants of many ages and locations,

Last Monday my fellow fifteen writing students sat down at large table. We glanced around, wondering who was who. Could any of these smiling people have gone crazy-mad after husband and baby both died in one weeks time? Who had been a reporter for the SF Chronicle was and had moved from atheism to a commitment to God? Which attractive young woman had a class-mate she didn't know come up to her in a bar to ask her to marry him?

Stories--we all have them, but in this special group we'd read them before showing up for this"spiritual writing class" at the Glen.

Our teacher, Lauren Winner, is a professor at Duke, a historian and author of three published books and numerous essays. I'd read her memoir, GIRL MEETS GOD, some five years ago. When I saw she was teaching this year for at the Glen, I was excited. I thought she'd be a brilliant teacher since she's a brilliant writer, and she was.

Another favorite author of mine, Marilyn Nelson, poet extraordinaire, was also teaching. I wished I could clone myself so as to take two workshops, but at least I was able to enjoy hearing her read her poems. Many of her pieces are narrative stories of Afro-Americans, some slaves, some freed men like George Washington Carver. So hearing her dramatize her work with a southern black accent was captivating.

"I'd read Marilyn's poems before and they didn't connect to me, but hearing them was a totally different thing. I loved it," said the woman next to me in the audience.

When I entered the Glen, none of my classmates knew me, other than the words I'd written. Those fourteen pages were a very personal account of how I've needed to grow and change to support my daughter becoming her own independent person. I confessed ways my orientation towards my self and lack of sensitivity to her has damaged our relationship.

Walking into a group where they knew bad parts of me, without first coming to know and respect me, scared me. But it was worth the risk. A classmate who prayed with me afterwards gave me this message from God, "He's smiling at you. He's proud of the new steps you've taken."

All in all a good week, a very good week.

The Right Place

Being in the right place helps me to write. I spend Wednesday through Friday at a bare-bones hotel in a ski area, Sierra Summit, outside Fresno, California. If I sat at the hotel desk, I looked into a white wall. I felt hemmed in, constricted and narrow.

So I went downstairs to their restaurant which remained empty between 9 AM and 5 PM on weekdays. There I could see the white sparkling snow stretching out in a large field before reaching the steep slope of the mountains. There I could sit and write or read my draft and reflect on what should come or go.

Unfortunately, my working desk at home is not a "right" place either--clutter lies around me and I view sanded, stained walnut, not gnarled oaks or shimmering snow. But I can still produce good work there.

I enjoy much more sitting in my green, leather easy chair in our living room and typing on my lap top, especially since we got some of Sheri's paintings on the wall. (It took us two months after taking down the Christmas decorations before we did that!)

There in my chair I can look out our big, front window and see branches of our Bougainvillea vine trailing down, and out across out busy front yard and across the street to my neighbors yard. A long view, that's what I need. For companionship, the squirrel hiding his nut in the planter or the sparrows hopping around on bare ground or bringing a bit of yarn or such to their nest-building in the porch rafters.

Another good part about hanging out at that hotel restaurant was having people around me working. I can easily work 2-3 hours without a single conversation and not miss the human companionship, if I can hear people around me talking. And I did hear the lady at the desk complaining about the help or explaining on the phone what an economy room was. That was great! When I wanted more tea, a worker there cheerfully obliged me with hot water. That's why libraries don't appeal to me -- too quiet.

Yes. it was the right place. I skied one hour, and spent ten hours on my novel while there.

Taping up the Critic

Despite the awe in some people's eyes when I tell them I have 500 pages of a novel written, being a writer is not glamorous or thrilling--at least most of the time. And right now it's heartbreaking and confusing, as I'm reading the new draft through.

I've written these 500 pages over seven years time and my writing style has changed markedly. I think for the better. So that means I have a hundred or two hundred pages of writing that needs severe editing. Yuch. Makes my tendonitis starts to act up just thinking about all the mouse clicks.

I do actually enjoy the editing process sometimes, it's just that there SO much to do and it looks to take SO long.

I've got a self-imposed deadline of having this ready to go to an agent by June 1. I'm going to have to be single-minded to make it.

The good news is that it's not so hard to read it as the first time through. Oh, what dread and fear filled me the first time--the doubt and worry that I'd poured tons of time and pounds of money into a waste. The critical voice shouting in my head over every single sentence.

At least this time I know some parts of it, perhaps most of it, is good, maybe very good. I've had that affirmed by other established writers so I repeat their compliments to the critical judge in my head.

The hard part is deciding where to cut whole sections and plot turns, for the sake of brevity. Five hundred pages it long for a first novel and for this generation that steers clear of War and Peace and goes for Jodi Picoult novels and two hour movies.

Seredipity

In a movie we watched last night, a character said, "People don't like to admit how large a part luck plays in their lives."

I agree that our brains and hard work do not determine nearly as much as we'd like to think they do. In fact, because of the odds of getting a first novel published and actually earning something from it are so much against me, I'd give up on my novel writing if perspiration, intelligence and imagination were the main factors.

A friend, a new Christian, asked me today if I believed in angels. I do. She asked their purpose - to serve as messengers of God and carry out what he wants. Knowing angels exist gives me hope and peace in the midst of nervous-making situations like trying to complete or novel, or having a 17-year old daughter with a driver's license.

Today I didn't see or sense angels, but I did note some serendipitous circumstances. Perhaps an angel nudged me, opened my eyes to notice what would have stayed unseen.

I was on my way to Starbucks, but I looked within a store window--a charming tea shop, replete with tea pots and tea cups, the white with floral print ones. Inside a huge array of teas, including marvelous fruit-flavored tisanes and other no-caffeine teas, enticed me. I set up my lap-top and churned out another scene in my novel.

A woman took a seat behind me. We chatted a bit and soon found how much we have in common. We both write poetry and when she heard about my novel, she said she'd love to read it when it comes out.

I overheard conversation from a group of three women three tables over. On the way out, I paused. "I overheard some talk that gave me the idea that one of you has been to Japan recently."

I was right and they were excited to her a few of my Japan stores. All three of those artists also wanted my contact information and eager to read my novel. Did an angel draw me and these three enthusiasts together in that shop?

A few days ago the daunting task of completing my novel made me wonder if I'd gotten these all wrong and if I'd ever finish. I asked God for some signs that I should persevere in this difficult road of completing my novel.

Today I got them.

Learning to Write for Free

If you're an aspiring writer and want to get a writers conference in your inbox, consider joining The Writer View. It's free. It's amazing. And,seriously, you'll learn everything you'd learn at a writer's conference
(sans meeting cool people face to face), only you don't have to pay airfare.

How they work: Each Monday and Thursday a panelist poses a question about the publishing industry, the craft of writing, or anything related to the writing journey. These panelists are agents, editors, writers who are well known in the Christian writing industry. Then, panelists and members write posts about the question raised. I still learn new things every week. It's a moderated loop, so there's no blatant self promotion. Word counts are limited to 250 per post.

For beginning to intermediate writers, the group to join is TWV 2. Click at:
    <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TWV2/> .

For advanced, published writers, join The Writers View. Click:   
<http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheWritersView/> .

You will be asked to fill out an application that you then send to the group's leadership. You'll receive an email letting you know whether you've been accepted.

San Francisco Writers Conference

    The first time, last February, that I walked into the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco for the SF Writer's Conference, the mahogany paneling and the crystal chandeliers reinforced my feelings of awe and timidity at joining such a group of august people:  best selling writers, agents who've sold many books to publishers and editors would ultimately make the decisions as to whether the 3,000 hours plus (unpaid) I've put into my writing my book would bring its birth into print.
     This last Friday morning when I again walked into the rich ambiance of this famous hotel on a hill, the sweaty palms and knotty stomach were gone. I knew that I'd be in a hospitable, nurturing,informative and inspiring place. I thank the great leaders of the conference - Michael Larsen and Elizabeth Pomada, for that; also the wonderful team of volunteers Michael and Elizabeth organized and lead.  These "angels" greeted with smiles and gave out information ungrudging.
    So from Friday early morning to Sunday at 3;30 pm. I packed into my wee brain truck loads of  information, met fascinating people, continued past relationships, tried out a "pitch" for my novel on others, and read three opening pages of my novel and got feedback at an open mike session.  I couldn't have done all that last year. Being there for the second time made it all less stressful and more productive.
    My tips for others thinking of attending:
        1) sign up now for the February 2009 conference so that you can save $50 to $100
       2) if you can, stay in the hotel - they have a conference rate and the refuge I got by retreating to my
room gave this "social introvert"  the energy to then go out and forge new connections and sell my work
       3) it's worth it to pay for professional, wise advice: my novel has improved drastically since I engaged
             a professional editor, Donna Levine. Last year's conference acquainted me with her and her
            services.  This year I paid Kevin Smokler to take my amateur and confusing "pitch" and figure
            out how to explain my novel in 2-3 minutes in an clear, enticing way.
       4) ) don't go to all the fascinating, must-hear sessions.  Instead, buy recordings afterwards. Because
            I opted out I could attend the "meet the editors" round tables at 4:45 on Saturday and speak
             to three editors about my work with confidence and energy.

MY NEWS:
    -  I now know how to get into travel writing and article writing
    -  Two editors of big name houses would like to see a query letter and writing sample from my novel
    -  Four literary agents  also would like the same (I've had some response before, but not this much)
    -  I hit it  with one of those agents and, unless Someone shows me otherwise, would like to work with
        her
    - I have LOTS and LOTS of work to do to finish up my novel and now I jazzed about throwing myself into it

Why I Write

    Some months ago I was by myself in our church sanctuary and sat beside another lone woman. We chatted, exchanging basic facts about ourselves.  When she heard heard that I was writing a novel, our brows furrowed as if  confused as to why a strong Christian, passionate about bringing "what's up there down here" would spend so much time writing a story.  Aren't there the poor to take care of? Broken people to heal God's healing to?
    If it was non-fiction, she could understand.  She reads non-fiction for enlightenment and understanding. But a story?  What earthly, or heavenly, good would that do?
    At that time I couldn't come up with, on the spot, answers to her questions. Now I can.

    Here's three reasons I consider it worthwhile to devote time to writing - each could be an essay.

    I) I write because God is a Creator. He has made me in his image.  This mean to be whole I need to create.  I find delight in creating as He did and does.  In the Old Testament we see God giving abilities to create which are used in worship of him.

    2) I write because people need stories. Stories, as well as non-fiction, inform and inspire usl When loneliness and despair washed over me my first year of living in Japan, it was not a Bible verse that kept me there, but a novel by Willa Cather.  In it a Jesuit priest, in the pioneer days, stays on in Canada despite how he hates the fleas and filth in the Indian teepees, in which he lives, in order to bring the good news of God's love through Jesus.  He, like me, was a lover of books and intellectually stimulating conversations, but gave that up for a time for these Indians.  That model motivated me to keep making my own kind of sacrifices.

    3)  Through writing I've found healing and grace.  It's been good for me.  At times when the facts of life were too painful to contemplate, through writing I could both discover myself and lose myself,  In writing I find myself saying things I can rarely say face to face. In lines written just for myself, I admit what I hadn't recognized before and confess to God my foolish, misguided heart.

Well, time to get back to novel-writing!

A Writing Workshop Works

            I've been away from blogging due to a five day writing conference I attended at Foothill Community College.  Replete with readings and published writers from many places, it was a feast for both mind and heart.  As usual, I bought too many books, and now I really must take the rest I need this summer by giving myself time to read!
            Classes were about a wide range of topics, including ones I haven't seen in the many writer's conferences I've attended.  Today, as in other days, I had a difficult time choosing which ones to attend. "East coast, west coast, two views of American writing."  Alan Cheuse, who hails from Washington DC and New York and does NPR's book reviews, told us that New Yorkers are provincial. When they take vacation they go to Maine or Martha's Vineyard or Cape Cod.  If they fly, to Europe.  Rarely, California.  We hardly exist to them, so book publishers don't like books that take place in California.  Hmm, I'm glad mine will take place in Japan.
          A class with Marianne Villanueva on "Writing about another culture" as well as a class by Houston and Wakatsuki on "Writing to cross cultural barriers" dealt with many questions I've had as a, an Anglo American, try to write a novel about Japanese people.  When some recently written pages from my novel were work-shopped, the instructor liked them. She and a student both familiar with Japan said I truly succeeded in capturing a Japanese voice. 
         Anyways, this conference is a real steal with its incredibly low price of $55.  Each day two sessions of 1.5 hour seminars and manuscript workshops are offered in the afternoon. In the offerings of roughly 5--7 seminars in poetry, fiction and memoir and 2-3 manuscript workshops even the experienced writer can find something of interest.  And the noon time and evening readings were captivating and inspirational.
         I know already I'm going next year.