The Cloud Lifts

Sometimes you think you know

where you are 

in a story

but then

a cloud descends

and you're no longer sure:

Is this the right setting?

What's down there in that valley?

What is going to happen?

Why can't I see . . .?

You walk from one room

to the next

You wash a dish or two

and then

The cloud lifts!

It's a miracle.

You know where you are.

You know where you're going.

At least for the time being . . .

xx

Contrast

I am still 

swooning

in the garden

in this riot

of color

and fragrance

and texture:

rock and lichen

and moss and petals

and leaves

each offsets 

the other

as in a story

the smooth softens the rough

the muted balances the bold

the fragile offsets the strong

humor tames the serious

mm?

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

Story Branches

Started three different stories.

Usually I only work on one at a time.

Wonder what will happen.

xx

Step Into My Garden . . .

Step into the garden

of the book

and see what lies within . . .

I really love looking at the beginnings of books (and this is not the first time on this blog), fascinated by the variety of styles and tones that greet you there. Some entice, some frighten, some bore, some beckon, some puzzle . . .

Here are a few beginnings pulled from books at hand, chosen randomly:

"I thought I'd been to Africa. Told all my class I had."

     --Small Island, Andrea Levy

"Our house is old, and noisy, and full."

     --Life Among the Savages, Shirley Jackson

"When the MS Irish Oak sailed from Cork in October 1949, we expected to be in New York City in a week."

     --'Tis, Frank McCourt

"On a time there lived a king and a queen in Erin, and they had an only son."

     --Myths and Folk Tales of Ireland, Jeremiah Curtin

"The candleflame and the image of the candleflame caught in the pierglass twisted and righted when he entered the hall and again when he shut the door."

    --All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy

"The old bus is a city reject. After shaking in it for twelve hours on the potholed highway since early morning, you arrive in this mountain county town in the South."

     --Soul Mountain, Gao Xingjian

Would any of these entice you in? Are you able to choose a favorite and a least-favorite among them?

xx

Endings

(see last post for the 'before' pic)

After all the mess

after all the ripping

and shredding

and wondering

and worry

and planning

and 

more ripping and shredding

ta da!

The ending:

so smooth

so seamless

so satisfying

and pleasing

you have to sit back

and marvel.

Well:

ideally.

xx

Middles

Sometimes 

you have to rip out

big chunks

of the story

in order to

fix

lumpy, bumpy bits.

(Meanwhile, this is what our driveway looks like today.)

Beginnings

Until you turn on the faucet

the bowl is empty

Until you read the first line

the story is empty

Here is a first line I like:

On a continent of many songs, in a country shaped like the arm of a tall guitarrista, the rain drummed down on the town of Temuco.

--from The Dreamer by Pam Munoz Ryan

Do you have a favorite first line?

Bounty!

Following in the tradition of my father

I planted vegetable and flower gardens

and behold the bounty

so early!

Mounds of tender lettuce

sprinkles of fragrant roses

peonies

mint

as with

of course

a great story:

good ingredients

will feed the mind and the soul

ciao, bellas . . .

xx

Spring Snow

Last week

in shorts and tee shirt

I was digging in the garden

This morning

the snow began

and it snowed and snowed

all day long

and is still snowing now

like the white pages

of a manuscript:

a few pages at first

and then more

and more

until

it is so thick and deep

you could get

lost

in

it.

xx

Morning Has Broken

I love that Cat Stevens' song

"Morning Has Broken"

morning: with all its promise

like the beginning of a story

all that world

ready to wake up

so much world

so much

so

xx

Of Books and Dogs

Books, books, books. I can't help it - I can't resist buying books, books, books. I also have a Kindle, but much prefer holding a Real Book.  Some of these books are kept forever and some are donated.

Last week I vowed: No more books until I finish reading the ones stacked beside the bed.

Today I bought:

So much for vows.

Have I also mentioned this book (link below): S.O.A.R.,  animal rescue stories by Jack Floyd?  S.O.A.R. stands for Southport-Oak Island Animal Rescue, and Jack is a long-time volunteer there.  I'm partial to it because I know the author, but you might want to check it out. [It's an ebook; the link below is for iTunes, but you can also get it elsewhere.]

S.O.A.R. Stories by Jack Floyd

What is your latest book purchase?

Story Fuel

I'm in full-tilt writing and revising mode, having cleared the decks to write for the next couple months with few interruptions. It's a good feeling when that time is there and the story is cooperating.  In the above pic, the white stack is the newly revised portion, the second draft; the blue stack is the first draft, with chapters yet to be revised.

Yesterday, a reader asked me "What do you eat when you write?"

Well.
I'd never been asked that before.
I thought it interesting that the reader did not say "Do you eat when you write?" but rather, "What do you eat . . ", seeming certain that some eating was going on.

Yes. Eating does go on.
Until recently, the munching was any or all of these: nuts, chocolate-covered almonds, mini Milky Ways (dark chocolate ones), popcorn, kettle corn, more chocolate . . .

I know, I know.
And so last week I stopped eating sugar and re-booted my food supplies.
Take a look at the current snacks-for-writing:

I'm not kidding.

And here's what I drink when I write:

Water.  Fizzy.

I know, I know, I'm being so virtuous I can hardly stand myself.

The question is:  which fuel will produce the best words/stories, mm?
Stay tuned . . .

Meanwhile: what do YOU munch on and drink as you sit at the computer, mm?

North Carolina

My husband and I have just completed a 900-mile road trek from western New York to southern North Carolina, and I'd hoped to post a photo taken early on the second day of the trip: sunrise in the Blue Ridge Mountains - all deep blues and lavenders and rose. But I've not yet been able to transfer the photo from phone to computer.  Maybe tomorrow.

Meanwhile, these two photos reflect what I'll be doing here:

No, not photography (though I'll continue to take photos), and no, not self-reflection (though that is ongoing, as well) . . .

I'm focussing on the new work-in-progress (not the one to be published in September - that one is finished), this new one that is three-fourths complete. What is it really about? What is IN there? I can almost see it.  Almost.  It came from me, but it isn't me. What is it?

I usually have to ask my editor that question when I submit it:  "What exactly is this, anyway?"

If you know, please let me know, mm?

Blue Sunset and Endings

This was today's sunset, above, 5:15 pm:  the sky dramatically blue, the lake smoothly glazed.

Just two days ago, the sunset was full of gold and amber and orange, 

the lake newly frozen and snow-covered:

I am proofreading the first-pass page proofs for the upcoming book,

thinking about endings.

Is my ending blue or amber?

Hmm.  Amber, I think.

Of the books you read, are they more likely to have blue or amber endings?  Mm?

Texture and Story

I love this gnarly old tree.

What a history it must have.

It reminds me of a really, really old and wise woman.

You don't want to mess with her

but you might learn a lot from her.

On my walks I am drawn to texture

and to contrasts in texture

from the rough and gnarly, nobby, bare tree above

to this:

soft and floaty grass fronds

as delicate as lace.

I appreciate intriguing texture in story

 the accumulation of details and tone

of pacing and pattern

and I appreciate contrasts in texture

that guide me from the gnarly to the soft

skillfully.

I love when I begin reading a book

and sense immediately

that I am in the hands

of a skillful writer.

Have you had that feeling recently?

What book or what writer?

Pattern and Story

I am drawn to pattern

- not rigid, symmetrical pattern - 

but to pleasing balance

In life as in story

I need to see the particular 

and understand how it relates

to the whole

It wasn't until I got home

from my walk

that I noticed the similarities

in the scenes that caught my eye

much as, in writing a story,

the patterns are not always evident

until I complete a first 'walk' (draft)

but then, once noticed,

the task is to oonch them to the surface

right?

Harvest

(Click to enlarge)

Today's harvest from the mini-garden (above) - I can hardly stand how happy this makes me.

I am not normally a lover of peas, but these (above) are so sweet and tender. They are barely rinsed off before:

Gobbled up! Every single one. They were so good.

Husband comes in. Eyes me.  Eyes the empty pea pods. "Good thing I didn't want any," he says.

Good thing.

Chasing Redbird

Cardinals, those surprising flashes of red in the air or the trees, suggest something both stunning and illusive.

Fifteen years ago, I sat down to write a book with only the title in mind: Chasing Redbird. On one level Chasing Redbird is the story of a girl uncovering a trail one summer, of finding her place in her family and the world, but on another level it is about the process of creation, of uncovering the trail of the story.

With every story I write, I feel as if I am chasing a redbird, and I hope I will find it. I don't have to 'catch' it; I just have to find it, see it, and show it to you.