Back from a Beyond

I've been gone...vacation...mountains, wild places and things...and...grief.
I'm back, but...
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed.




L.E. next to Current Creek reservoir in June.

Every Day

The newspaper had a special section yesterday about the new economy, particularly about jobs, getting them, keeping them, creating them. I almost didn’t read it. It didn’t seem particularly valid for my situation, other than as help for my sons and when did they ever listen to me? After all, I’ve never had a ‘real’ job. I’m ‘retired.’ And I seek to be published, not hired. (Surprisingly similar things, but like I said, when have they ever listened to me? I could be sexist and say, hey, they’re men, or…and moms of boys will understand, say, hey, they’re boys, or I could say, hey, I’m just mom.)

They’re right, I worked at a pet shop before I was married and cleaned a theater for several months when my husband was laid off one winter. And gosh, a pet shop is mostly fun, isn’t it? Well, yes and no. Loved interacting with the animals. I was good at it. But lessons are learned: Puppies, kitties, and various other pets poop. A lot. And back then, we had puppies, kitties, and various other pets as the product we sold, and in the pet shop world then, product died. It was a hard fact for someone like me to learn and cope with.

Hey, for my career class, my chosen careers where Veterinarian or novel writer. I was told women are not accepted at Veterinarian Colleges and you can’t make a living writing books unless you’re a journalist. Yes, it was the dark ages and yes, the thing about novel writing is still true unless you’re Nora Roberts or Steven King or really, really lucky.  

The theater was just a big house where everyone was partying, and what on earth are people doing in a public theater anyway? You would not believe what I found hanging around the seating area. Seriously, folks?

I digress. I found three surprisingly valid articles for me, a novel writer. Will any of it guarantee I’ll be published? No more than it guarantees anyone else will get a job, but it’s a good thing to pack in your backpack and carry with you no matter which you want.

 

From one article was about improving yourself and your skills continuously. My take away for every day.

·       Learn something new for your writing.

·       Devote at least 15 minutes every day learning or improving a skill you use in your writing.

·       Learn a new word, its meaning and use.

·       Read a writer’s magazine, at least one article.

From another:

·       Find and nurture support. This can be a challenge if you don’t run into other writers in your day to day or you can’t attend meetings or such. I’m in that situations. Thank goodness for the internet. There are friendly writers and many, many support groups. That leads to the challenge of how you spend your time on the internet. Be strong.

·       Plan your writing day. Have goals, whether in time, words, whatever. Meet them, exceed them, raise them.

·       Broaden your skills and update them.

·       Work on your bio. Read it and try to add to it.

·       Attend workshops, seminars; buy DVD’s, whatever to help your writing skills.

Third article:

·       Reading, therefore writing is in a flux right now. Keep up.(Are you sensing a theme or repeated point here?)

·       Change with the times while holding to the core of good writing.

·       Remember, things go on whether the economy slows or not. People will read. They’ll want fresh, great reads no matter how it’s delivered. So the focus has to be on the writing.

·       No job, no business is easy. Problems will come and those that stay around adapt and embrace change

·       Smile. Enjoy what you’re doing. Fall in love with it. Every day.

L.E.

As my vet said so eloquently, “This sucks.”

A sudden fast growing tumor and we had to make the worse decision pet owners ever have to make.

The place next to me as I write this is empty. Last night empty of comforting snores. I’m without a companion, the shadow at my heels.

I think I’m okay. I’m not sure.

L.E wasn’t perfect.

She had bad knees, bad hips, bad shoulders, was stubborn to a fault, hypersensitive to all forms of stimulus, some would say not the smartest pup in the litter. She was actually too smart for her own good, but we rubbed together and she was always there for me. When I was alone as my husband traveled for work, when I was fighting illness, when I was struggling with my writing, as I gardened. She replaced an irreplaceable dog and stepped up to the plate.

Strange, that when we’ve told most of our loved ones the first question has been: “Are you getting another dog? or “When are you getting another dog?

I don’t believe in not getting attached, in protecting my heart. No, I believe in casting my heart clear over the barn, so I do, every time, and I’m pretty sure, I’ll keep doing so. That’s all right, too, because:

 “It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them.

And every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart.

If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog,

and I will become as generous and loving as they are.”

- Anonymous

By now, I should be mostly dog, but there is enough human heart that I’m still not as generous or loving as I should be, so another dog is likely in my future, but I need time.

For L.E. A Good Dog (The highest compliment in her eyes.)

“He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. His is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told  me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me…whenever…wherever – in case I need him. And I expect I will – as I always have. His is just my dog.” Gene Hill

Summer School

Been working like crazy on rewrites/edits for my new/old book, Heart’s High, this summer and it’s been going great. So much better than Ella and the Tie-down Man. The path is clearer, the problems easier to fix and I think the reason is some great help in the way of a learning.

I’m a firm believer of continued learning. I take classes as I go along the writer’s journey and this summer I’ve stumbled on some great help for my writing. Suggestions by other writers on their blogs, in articles, etc. have really given me some valuable resources and learning experiences. I’d say my writing has much improved by just thirty minutes a day reading. A great substitute for workshops or writer’s retreat when those options aren’t possible.

Never say I can’t. Say, I’ll have to do it a little different.

Outlining Your Novel, by K.M. Weiland: Regardless whether you are a pantster or a planner, this is a great book for improving your book’s plot. No do it this way or die. Just good sound advice, no matter how you write best. Her blog is a lot of help, too: Wordplay: Helping Writers Become Authors at www.kmweiland.com

Rivet Your Readers With Deep Point of View, by Jill Elizabeth Nelson: This is a tiny book. Just 61 pages, but packed with the best explanation and illustration of deep point of view, at least for me. For the first time I got it and Nelson gave lists of words to do searches with to help check on whether I stay in deep point of view, too. I like that because as I learn I forget sometimes. Even as I learn to use deep point of view better, it helps to check. We all get sloppy/lazy/forgetful once in a while.

Pair this with The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression, by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi: This is great, especially as a way to show emotions. So much more effective than to tell.  So much of our communication is non-verbal or subtext.  There are physical signs, mental responses and internal sensations. What I found in looking these emotions up in this book, whether you use the authors’ suggestions or use them for a jumping off place, is it seemed to help me keep in one character’s point of view. No  matter who’s POV I was in there was either something the character was seeing, feeling or sensing. Together with deeper point of view, it seemed to make my scenes more alive.  And you must take a look at their website: http://thebookshelfmuse.blogspot.com

You have to keep punching, because you’ve always got that puncher’s chance. –Otis Chandler, publisher, Los Angeles Times

Choosing to Write

I’ve had my head, heart and fingers in the writing all spring and summer. Total focus. Each day I see progress both with the work I’m editing and learning the craft. I love this. When everything is working with my writing, but when that is happening, I can dang near bet that the rest of my life is a gone-wrong flash-mob. (You know the one—where no one gets the timing right and everyone gets the steps wrong)

I’ve been writing all my life and as I tell my grandkids, I’m older than Spiderman, but still I have so much to learn. That just amazes me. Just when I think I have it, I learn something new that changes everything. Still, isn’t that what keeps me excited? Yes.

 Previous years, my garden pretty much rules my summers. I never could quite help it. I’d let the gardening win out too many times when there was a time crunch. (I regret that, fought it even, but winters are so long and I love my fingers in dirt.) Slowly, over many years and for many reasons, I’m learning to have it all. Well, not really, we really can’t have it all, all at once.

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve redesigned, eliminated and consolidated every bed, but this year, this summer I’m finally pleased with the yard as a whole. In all the years we’ve lived her, it looks better than ever. I like it and it doesn’t take a lot of time to keep it looking nice.

Well, of course, something has to be awry. My honey locust. It suffered damage in a terrible windstorm in January and we ended up cutting it back to what was, basically, a stump. It branched out and turned into a decent looking tree. A little Dr. Seuss, but I like it. It had a lot of potential, but this summer’s hot winds have just plagued us. The tender new branch shoots just couldn’t hold up and they’ve have broken, bent down and in general, frustrated me.

There’s just not enough time for us to ever see a new tree to the size that it will shade our yard. The locust was just to the size it did and so perfect. All last summer I was commenting on what a perfect tree it had turned out to be for shade and looks and…I’m not going to start over and I’m not going to take it out. It will be what it is. It won’t be perfect. It will be like me. Scarred, life-worn, but stronger for it. (I hope).   

A favorite spot:

I’ve let my garden take on a more natural theme, simpler, easy-keeping plants, and I’ve relaxed my standards. (Some things the experts tell you to do don’t really need doing.) And I’ve been rewarded.

I love the new look around the place as do the bees and butterflies. I’m enjoying the garden, not just working the garden. Better yet, I haven’t once made the agonizing decision to get the gardening done instead of writing because the yard was screaming neglect. I haven’t wrestled with that choice once. I just plop myself down at the computer and write with guilt. At least not because the yard hasn’t been groomed.

As a writing mother, primary care-giver, wife, chief cook and bottle-washer, I’ve always had to agonize over priorities. Struggled with the guilt when I choose writing. Guilt is just a truth of it, I think, and for women, more so. There is no escaping and I’m a dang slow learner. Putting my writing first has always been a struggle, much like grammar for me. Do you put the comma here or there? Do I garden, clean the house, do the wash, and check on mom, do a five-minute meal, thirty-minute meal or do I go all out? (Thirty minute meals are my friend. I gather good, quick and easy recipes like emergency funds. Squirreling them away for those days, I cannot pull myself away from the computer.)

I’ve learned you put the comma wherever and move forward. You keep writing. You write now while the fingers are moving over the keyboard and worry about dinner and commas later. But…you plan; hedge your bets as much as you can. (I take advantage of every time savor that makes sense and I can afford. Crockpots are crucial.)

And the hardest thing to remember: Your writing is never as important to anyone else as it is to you. No one else will hurt, cry or shrivel away if you don’t write. You have to care about it enough to face down everyone and everything else. Not all the time, but most of the time.  (You’ll have to remind everyone you explained your writing schedule to, not once in a while, but all the time. It is so hard for anyone to understand what you are really doing in that room alone for hours and hours. No one will understand the need for uninterrupted time, least of all those that love you. They try, they really do, but I’ve not found anyone who doesn’t write or make music or art that can understand that writing isn’t typing: that the words don’t just run down your arm to the keyboard onto the screen as if you’re speaking into a recorder. The process is hard to understand because you can’t really see it being done.)

The world goes on whether I write or don’t, the same as for anything else I choose to do. I have to choose to write every time.

You will find a great many of the truths we cling to rely greatly on our own point of view. Obi Wan Kenobi

Close Encounters of the Moose Kind

Vacation mostly means reading, not cooking, cleaning, but still writing for me. I'm not sure I can take a vacation from writing. My head just goes on doing what it does anyway, but with much better scenery and much better inspiration. I write western historicals and this country is full of history and evidence of that. And for poetry. Actually, this writer's haven.

So, pack up trailer and head up to the high Uinta mountains for fishing, hiking, spotting animals, looking at wonderful scenery, seeing cattle ranchers at work and nature, hearing the whispers of bygone days. Perfect. The fishing is mostly for my husband and I go along when he goes down at the shore of the reservoir, but when the fishing is slow, often I wander back to the truck to read.

I was deep into Kaki Warner's new book Bride of the High Country when for some reason I looked up and saw a few other fishers pointing behind the truck. Of course, I looked.
The black dot was a moose. Slowly I put the bookmark in my book. I didn't want to lose my place, then got out my camera. I slipped out of the truck, but left the door open, afraid shutting the door would scare the moose, and I started shooting.

He got closer.

This was my picture of when he stopped and looked at me. No, there is not a moose in this picture. I was trying to remember if he was one of those animals you do  not want to look in the eyes. I think he was trying to figure out if I was a threat.

I almost missed this one, too. I was busy trying to start my heart again.

Finally, a full picture.

Peace reigns and my heart is almost normal. I told my husband, if I had had my big camera I would have much better pictures. Yeah, right.

Negative Talk

Negative talk. What do you do about it? Especially, when it comes from your own harping self.  And it will. You can bet your heart, it will.

“No one’s waiting for that book/poetry/essay you’re writing. (Fact, no one is.) Which reminds me of a quote I found somewhere: Facts is stubborn things and can’t be drove. –Mrs. Gamp. I’ve often wondered who Mrs. Gamp is/was and why quote her. Well, besides that she’s right. But facts can be tricky things, too, depending on just how they are presented. Still, no denying, no one is waiting for what I am writing.

“That novel you’ve worked on for ??? years, sweated, cried over, worried about, edited with that fine tooth comb, well, it won’t make it past the slush pile, which is really, though they don’t tell you this in the workshops, classes and conferences you’ve attended, the garbage can.”

Who knows if this is true, could be. There are times I’m certain of it, or the mouse in the corner read it, then used it for bedding, or they just have a revolving mailbox or…

“Conferences are a waste of time. You won’t get the appointment you need, and there is never enough time to present your ideas in the best light. Does anyone really listen? Besides, you’re so nervous, how can you have a chance of getting anyone to listen to you with your weak, shaky, hesitant voice, anyway?”

Might be true, too. Is true as far as voice goes. Although I find most editors/agents etc. are honestly looking. Who wouldn’t want to find that next big book? The one everyone is talking about. They’re, also, kind and helpful as they can be. It really is all you can ask/hope for from them.

It must be human nature, that negative talk and I’d say, writers or anyone in the arts must be the worse. For one thing, there’s so much to doubt. Your ideas, your craft, your work, your time, your ability. For another, what we do, what I do, is just so dang subjective. And if you’re anything like me, you ask yourself, at least once a day, ‘what do I know about good writing/art? Or, does anybody get me? My writing?’ (Umm, do they?)

But hey, I know what I like, right? And that’s another thing, how do you like yourself objectively? Which is what you’re doing when you say you’re satisfied with what you’ve just written/rewritten/rerewritten, right? How do you ever satisfy yourself when you are OCD, unsure and shy?

We say all those things( the negative talk, the doubting, the rationalizations)  to ourselves, aloud and in frustrated whispers. The thing is, we also, listen. We wouldn’t say these things to our best writer friend or artist. We wouldn’t say these things to our kids or our husband when they are trying to do something they love.

When my kids tried to learn to ride a bike or swim. What did I do, even after hours of holding onto the bike seat, running along behind, panting and swearing I was too old for this…stuff and I had to lose a few (translation, a million) pounds? Or paying and driving my kids to extra swimming lessons when I really didn’t have the time or the money until—finally, finally they got it.

The writing magazines and books are full of ways to combat the negative talk. All the ideas work for a while, but for me, the best advice I’ve ever heard is a two-prong approach: One, I found in Writer’s Digest’s presents: Write Your Novel in 30 Days. It was in the first article of the magazine, How You Can Write a Book in a Month by Victoria Schmidt and it was secret # one. Talk about hitting me over the head to get my attention, but it had not a thing to do with negative talk. Still, it stayed with me, filtering into every aspect of my writing. ‘Work “as if.”’ To Victoria Schmidt that means to keep moving forward, not stopping to rewrite and it works beautifully for that. I just love the way doing that keeps those first pages flowing, but I’ve twisted it to use against that negative talk, too.

 I work as if I am published, as if those negative ‘facts’ have no bearing, as if I’m already past that. So, when a negative thought comes along, as it will, I tell myself I got past that, already. It no longer applies, no longer troubles me, it’s for my ‘agent’( I really ought to give the poor guy a name. Any suggestions?) to worry about and most of the time that works.

If I’m still not listen to myself about anything but negative, then I ask, myself, (‘cause who else is there, in my head, and if there are more people in my head, I have more to worry about than I thought, but I don’t think I ought to go down that road or…), am I the best witness to these negative statements?’ and ‘do I trust myself?’

Sometime, I’m not the best witness to the facts. None of us are, look at how bad we are as witnesses to crimes. Odds are not good we can describe that criminal that stole the gum or the car that hit us and drove off.

Let’s face it, every time you pick up a writer’s magazine there are reminders of all the changes going on in publishing. They will affect us. No doubt about it. It could be negatively, too. But…it could be the best thing since the computer to come along for us writers. Depends on what article you read. How the heck do I know which article reflects the pulse of the publishing industry? Experts can’t. So I don’t listen.

I don’t mean I don’t keep informed. I just very purposefully move on ahead, trusting that the writing is the first thing to worry about, and first things first, right? I’ll get the book down, rewritten and polished, then reassess the publishing world, as it is right then. I’ll trust I’ll make the best decisions for me, then. I won’t make decisions until then, ‘cause things are a changing.

Then, I’ll read the quote I keep in my bookcase, eye level, so I see it every time I reach for my dictionary or thesaurus: I couldn’t wait for success, so I went on ahead without it.

I trust that rejection won’t kill me and I can handle the hurt. I’ve been rejected before. I will be again. It is part of the work. I’ll remember that boy I had the wild crush on when I was fourteen. I survived, got stronger and found out it was for the best. I’ll trust that often not having success at that moment is a blessing. I’ll just do another rewrite, if I think it’s necessary, start another book, or send this book out again. I’ll work on as if I’m a success.

I’ll trust that if the book/poem isn’t any good or not selling I can rewrite, resubmit, keep trying. I’ve come this far, which is a success all its own. I can and will keep trying.

I’ve decided that we can believe in the positive or the negative things we tell ourselves, but what we ought to do, what I’m trying to do is be a good friends to myself. Be my own cheerleader, pep club, atta boy.

Ok, not everyone will succeed to publish. I’ll say that again, breathe it in, let that idea live inside me, as a fact. Not every boy who wanted to be a pro football player made it. Not every singer on American Idol wins, but worlds open up, opportunities happen when you take a risk.

I think about actors from old TV shows that we never see again, once the show ends. What happens to them? We think their lost or broke but they just go on. We all do…unless we do something stupid, but I’m not stupid. Most of those actors end up having wonderful, fulfilling lives. Their time in the spotlight, a sweet memory. Many continue working as actors, just not in that spotlight, but they don’t care because they are doing what they love. And those who mourn the spotlight and demand it back, they are the ones who crash and burn. Which life do I choose?

Remember and I’ve quoted this more than once here: The grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love and something to hope for. —Joseph Addison. Aren’t we lucky, writing gives us all three.

I’ll end on a quote from Jay Leno to his wife—Just do it and see what happens.