Maine is Busting Out All Over

Four weeks ago

this was a leafless, bare, brown landscape

and now

what an explosion

of greenery

and flowery

so dense and lush

it knocks out

your eyeballs

you can't take it all in

at once

you have to focus

on small pieces

and even then

you can hardly believe

such bounty exists

so casually

so delicately

you could lie down here

and say

'ahhh. . .'

xx

Story Focus, II

In the last post, I tried to compare shaping a story to focusing a camera, beginning, say, close up to a person or place and then pulling back to show the context or wider setting.

You could also do the reverse, as above: there's a stone patio, a stone wall and dense trees beyond.  What sort of place is this? What might happen here? Then move in a little closer:

The wall is carefully crafted, hand-built, hmm . . . who built it? Why is it important?  And if you go closer:

Well, well, well . . . look what was there amid those stones all along. Is that critter the subject of the story or a sign of . . . what?

Guess you've got to write the story to find out . . .

Mm?

xx

Story Focus

Writing a story is like aiming a camera and focusing: do you want the wide landscape, the faraway shot, or the closeup? I often begin up real close, in the narrator's mind or with a close look at one or two characters in the midst of something . . . and then . . .

 . . . pull back . . .. . . to show where this takes place and who else is central to the story.

The focus usually moves in and out then, throughout the story: sometimes close in, sometimes further back.

Someone recently asked me how I choose which sort of focus to use, and the answer is that I simply follow how the scene is playing out (like a movie) in my head.  I don't feel as if I'm manipulating the 'camera'; I feel as if I'm following it, instinctively leaning in and pulling back.

Occasionally when I feel bogged down in the story, it is often because the focus is stuck--too close or too removed for too long--and a simple change of lens revives the movement.

Or something like that . . .
xx

And more orbs . . .

What does your eye see

how will I know

unless you show me

or tell me

?

For you, today,

more orbs

with a note beneath each

giving its origin:

Snow, mountains, sky

Tomatoes

Single flower

Watercolor of flower bouquet

Charm bracelet on wood table

Have a favorite?

xx

Spring and Focus

Hellooooo, Spring!

Come on in.

You are always welcome here.

I'm always intrigued by how a writer chooses to begin a story,

especially with what focus:

will it be far out, giving the lay of the land,

as in movies 

when the camera begins high up 

and gradually moves in closer

and closer 

and closer

until it focuses on

the main character?

Or will it begin close up

immediately putting the focus on

a central person

or image 

and later moving out

to give us the lay of the land?

In paintings and photographs, too,

I like to think about

the artist's choices:

where is he/she directing our focus

and why?

It is spring in North Carolina,

a good time

to think about

beginnings.

Where do you get your ideas?

The question I am most often asked is, "Where do you get your ideas?"

The seeds for ideas are everywhere: in everything you see and hear and touch and feel. Combine this seed with that seed, and off you go.

Above might look like "a bigga mess" on the deck.

You look closer and you see nuts.

  You kneel down and look closely at one of those nuts:

Pretty interesting thing, that little nut.  Wonder what's inside?

Chop it open.  Huh.  Who might want that nut?

Ah, my nosy friend, the squirrel.

And your mind is off and running. Where is she taking that nut? What does her home look like? Does she have a family?

No, I don't normally write about squirrels, but I get my story ideas the same way.  That crowd of people over there - look at that one boy - look more closely - what's in his hand? - where is he going? - who are his friends? - what's bothering him?

Off you go . . .

Focus

When students say, "I don't have anything to write about," I think What? What? Are you kidding? You just need to look closely at something. Anything at all. Your hand. An eye. A leaf. A mushroom. Just lean in and focus. . .


The strange, stunning, giant yellow mushroom in the photos here was in our yard this morning. I've never seen anything quite like it. Had to get down and look closely. Had to grab a ruler so you'd know I wasn't exaggerating.  Look underneath:

Incredible.

Of course, then I had to mess around . . .

'Night all.  May you dream of stunning yellow mushrooms, but don't be afraid . . .