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Renaissance Woman

Category Archives: Writing

Developing My Writing Brain

21 Sunday May 2017

Posted by Kate in Writing

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Blog, Blogging, Book Review, Books, Living with Disability, Living with TBI, Susan Reynolds, Writer's Life, Writing, Writing Craft, Writing Process

Writing Shelf

I would love to be a word genius: stories spilling out of my brain with no need for editing or grammar checks.  That’s not how my writing process goes, unfortunately, so I do a great deal of reading.  Reading is my favorite thing and, among the amazing fiction I read for fun and the history I read for research (and fun), I also read about writing.  Some of the books I read are craft and others are writers writing about writing.  Most I read and put back on my shelf but I just finished a book I thought worthy of mention: Fire Up Your Writing Brain by Susan Reynolds.

This book doesn’t cover craft-not really.  Rather, the book contains tips and tricks derived from neuroscience to take what I already know as a writer and make it work more efficiently.  This is a book I’ll have to study and my favorite part were the quotes included from different writers.

There were three things I read on my first pass through this book that stayed with me:

First, a little blurb about Mark Zuckerberg was included stating he buys multiples of the same shirt in order to minimize how many decisions he makes in a day.  He’s quoted as saying; “There’s a bunch of psychological theory that even making small decisions about what you wear, what you eat for breakfast, etc., can make you tired.” (Fire Up Your Writing Brain, page 162).  The TBI I sustained in my car accident years ago means it’s easy for my brain to get overwhelmed.  Planning my meals, multi-tasking at my job, researching, writing my manuscript, posting to my blogs…it can get difficult for me to keep it all straight.  This quote struck me.  I’ve already been looking for ways to simplify my life and reading this has caused me to make doing so a priority.

Two, no one is perfect and yet I keep expecting my writing to be so.  The section entitled “Your Expectations Are Too High” on page 194 spoke to me.  In it, Ms. Reynolds states “The best advice anyone can give inexperienced writers is to write a first draft as quickly as possible, as good books are not written, but rewritten and rewritten and rewritten.”  This is something I’ve heard many times from many sources but perhaps, this time, I was ready not just to hear it but take it to heart.  I finished a first draft years ago: all 612 pages of it.  It’s been whittling and paring and cutting that mass of research and character background into something more readable that’s been a problem.  I have difficulty not tweaking this, re-writing that, what if this, and would it be better if… What Ms. Reynolds’ book is helped me realize is it’s still too early in my process to expect perfection.  I need to turn off my editing brain for a while. Easier said than done but I’m pushing through.

Three, it’s important to have a writing space.  I’m fortunate to have an office downstairs where all my books are neatly on their shelves, I have a desk, a comfy chair, and a place to put my feet.  While simplifying my life, parts of my office have become a dump site for papers I have to scan before I can shred, blank cards I have yet to fill out and send to friends and family, and other detritus I’m can’t throw away before I look at it.  Writing in this room feels different than writing anywhere else in the house.  Because of my books?  I can’t really say.  However, I need to get the room organized so I can work there without feeling anxious about mess.  This too is now a priority.

I gave this book 5 stars on Goodreads.  The information in it is bound to be more useful than I yet realize.  This is one that definitely goes on my bookshelf; just as soon as I get the shelf dusted and sorted.

Connect with me on Goodreads!

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The Good Old Wintertime

11 Saturday Mar 2017

Posted by Kate in Writing

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Blog, Blogging, Colorado, Hiking, Nature, Poetry, Winter, Word Painting, Writer's Life, Writing

Snow

It’s still winter according to the calendar but snowy days have been few and far between here in Colorado.  I need some cold days because my cookie recipes are stacking up but I can’t complain too much: cold weather makes me feel old and creaky.  On really cold days I entertain myself by thinking of seeking warmer climes, however; I’d miss winter.

I like snowy days.  Every sound is muffled and the world is quieter, stiller, than usual.  At least, I like them when I’m inside and warm.  I remember one time when I wasn’t much of a fan of cold and winter.

My dad had taken a job as foreman on a ranch and moved us north.  My brother and I were excited to be living on a ranch and were sure we’d each be able to have a horse.  It was the dead of winter and, practically the moment we arrived, the pipes in the house froze.  I don’t remember much of that time other than the bitter cold.  I do remember being put to bed with so many blankets and coats I could barely move.  I woke up on the third morning after our arrival to the sound of my mother packing our boxes and we were gone.  That was the coldest I ever remember being and the shortest I ever lived in one place.

Usually though, I like snow.  I like watching the flakes fall, I like the feeling of isolation.  I used to like hiking in the snow, though I don’t do much of that now.  All other sounds are muffled and the crunch of snow under my boots, the creaking of branches, and the occasional drop of snow to the ground all are inordinately loud.  Even when with other people, hiking in the snow made me feel alone.  I always felt more in touch with my own breath outdoors in the snow-perhaps the act of drawing the cold into my lungs-and even my thoughts seem to move more slowly.

I once tried to capture this feeling in poetry.  I wrote the included poem for my English class while at University and it’s one of my earliest attempts at word painting.  It’s been years but I remember my classmates liked it.  I hope you’ll feel the same.

One With Winter

It was a moment I will always remember

I stepped out of the trees

And a magnificent sight lay before me

A fresh snowfall covered the meadow

Beautiful, unmarred, soft, covered in a thin shell

The light from the moon sparkled like diamonds

All around me was silence-no movement for miles

There was only the fog I created as I breathed.

The coldness of Winter was in the air

It caressed my face, my lips

Winter found a kindred spirit in me

It entered my skin, my blood, my bones

And we were one.

As Winter I felt such peace-such nothingness

I was the ice in the air and the snow expansive before me

Beautiful, still, cold

I let myself sink into the heart of Winter

Until I was becoming lost in the cold

And had to fight my way back to myself

I took care as I walked around the meadow

Reluctant to mar the beauty I had enjoyed.

I returned the next day

To see my snow covered meadow but the snow was no longer there

It had melted-submitted-to the loving warmth of the sun.

 

 

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The Human Effect

24 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Kate in Personal Essays, Writing

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Chernobyl, Conscious Living, Conservation International, Environment, Nature

lake

I have recently been enjoying the “Nature is Speaking” series.  The message of each of these short videos is that we need nature; nature doesn’t need us.  These videos reminded me of a documentary I saw a while ago called “Radioactive Wolves”.  It was made to coincide with the 25th anniversary of the Chernobyl nuclear incident and is a fascinating study on just how well nature does without human involvement.

25 years has completely changed the landscape both around Chernobyl and within the zone so contaminated with radiation it’s uninhabitable by humans.  Cultivated land and the deserted cities have all been reclaimed by wilderness.  Man-made canals have been damned by beavers and the same beavers have undermined dykes thus returning drained marshland to its natural state.  The area around Chernobyl has become an unintended refuge for endangered species; species that seem to thrive despite the fact that bones of moose test at 50 times normal levels of radiation and fish bones from the area close to the reactor are so contaminated they can’t be touched by bare hands.

Gray wolf, Eagle, and Peregrine falcons are the top predator species that thrive in this reclaimed wilderness.  It doesn’t seem like thriving should be possible with the amount of radiation in the soil which is then taken up by the plants, eaten by the large herbivores and then consumed by the predators, but thrive they do.  The health of their populations stems from the fact that the area is toxic and thus lost to humans.

And, it is toxic.  The documentary referenced a six year study performed on dormice living within the contaminated zone.  4 to 6 percent of every generation shows some sign of abnormality, twice the rate of clean areas.  Those rates are unacceptable to humans and with an estimate of Chernobyl being uninhabitable by humans for the next 20,000 years; these species will be able to continue their uninterrupted life cycles without human intervention.

Almost without human intervention.  Bison were reintroduced into the Belarus side of the exclusion zone in the late 90’s and that decade saw wild horses being introduced on the Ukraine side.  However, wherever there are humans trying to help, there are humans causing problems.  Reproduction rates among the wild horses say there should be close to 200 individuals roaming the wilderness but poachers have brought that number closer to 60: a fact that seems to reinforce the Nature is Speaking message.  Nature doesn’t need us and, indeed, seems to do much better without us.

Does it have to be this way?  If human beings could realize our relationship with the world around us is symbiotic-our ability to thrive depends on the health of our environment-would we start living in balance with it rather than consuming its resources far faster than it can replenish itself?  As always, I can’t answer for anyone but myself.  I try to make the most responsible decisions I can and living in balance with my environment is an ongoing journey.

 

 

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A Work in Process

11 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by Kate in Writing

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Blog, Blogging, Books, Denver Museum of Nature and Science, Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Writer's Life, Writing, Writing Process

What is my writing process?  Apparently, all writers have them and all are unique.  Do you write standing up?  Write Drunk and Edit Sober or vice versa? Devote an hour a day?  Don’t stop until at least three pages are finished?  Don’t even think about your book until you’ve accomplished a half hour of free-writing?  I enjoy reading about other writers’ processes and there is a sense of community as I find writers share many of the same struggles, but though I’ve been working on my book for years, I still don’t have a process.  It’s constantly changing and has yet to be nailed down.

I try.  “I’m going to write an hour a day. Period.”  I begin with that goal but then I’ll have a day where I’m so tired I can’t string words together verbally much less type something other than gibberish.  Then there days when my arm will hurt and I can’t type or write by hand and, before I know it, days have passed with no progress on the manuscript.  That doesn’t mean I’m not writing if by ‘writing’ I mean thinking about my book and characters, plotting what happens next, or reading a bit by way of research.  In many ways, my process is to work on my book every waking moment-and some sleeping moments-even though words don’t always make it onto paper.

I hear advice like; don’t edit yourself-get it down on paper and then edit.  That makes sense but that doesn’t work for me.  I’ll be writing away and then I realize that both plot and characters feel dry and that a change needs to be made; often four or five chapters ago.  If I don’t go back and make the change, I CANNOT continue writing.  It’s like all creativity dries up.  So, I edit myself I great deal while working.

One piece of advice I have taken to heart is don’t throw anything away.  I have a dump file and, whenever I hit a situation mentioned in the above paragraph, I take the scene that isn’t working and stick it in the dump file.  This has been crucial for me.  There have been so many times I plopped something that wasn’t working in the file and forgot about it until I found I needed it; often years after first setting it down.  I recently copied in work I’d done in my earliest draft-almost ten years old now-into my current draft and was thrilled not to have to re-write the scene.

“Taking a long time” is definitely part of my process but my story arcs over seven books and I don’t want to make the mistake of introducing something in Book One that is utterly contradicted in Book Seven.  I hate it when authors do that.  I’ve had authors I like reference an instance from an earlier book that I remember happening differently and, sure enough, I scrounge up the appropriate book and find I’m correct.  Why does that happen?  Is it easier to tweak the facts for the current book?  I don’t know but it’s annoying.  I also have a hard time continuing to read an author that changes a character’s name in a later book.  Is the name unimportant because the character is a minor one?  No.  If you’re going to bring the character back in later books, make sure you use the same name!  I don’t know if that’s an author or an editor mistake but, again, it’s annoying.

I respect authors that go that extra mile in research and attention to detail.  The Denver Museum of Nature and Science recently had a Sherlock Holmes exhibit.  Sherlock Holmes is one of my favorite characters and I enjoyed immersing myself in that world.  The exhibit had plenty of hands on activities and there was a mystery to be solved as I moved through the different displays.  Great fun but I enjoyed reading the letters written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  One such letter was to his publisher and Mr. Conan Doyle was requesting a copy of an early manuscript as he couldn’t remember all the details he’d set down and no longer had a copy of his own.  My writer spirit felt camaraderie with that: a writer respecting both his characters and his readers enough to research his early work.  Such an eye for detail and a respect for research-as well as great writing-keeps Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on my shelves.

I knew Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote other books: I’ve seen The Lost World even though I haven’t yet acquired a copy of the book.  I did find a collection of stories I’d never known Conan Doyle wrote and I was especially interested in the Preface to The White Company written by Conan Doyle’s wife.  It begins:

My husband was intensely thorough in all his literary work.  He took enormous pains to have everything right.  For instance, before writing The White Company, he soaked his brain with a knowledge of the period he intended to portray.  He read over sixty books dealing with heraldry-armour-falconry-the medieval habits of the peasants of that time-the social customs of the higher fold of the land, etc.  Only when he knew those days as though he had lived in them-when he had got the very atmosphere steeped into his brain-did he put pen to paper and let loose the creations of his mind.  (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Historical Novels: Volume One; Preface to The White Company)

This, also, I deeply respect.  I do write a bit differently than this; I soak my brain in the period I’m writing in but there are things I don’t realize I should be researching until I’m already in the writing process.  For instance, merely having a character attend a public bath isn’t enough.  I need to know what the baths in both Ancient Rome and Ancient Arabia were like.  How did they differ from one another? Were there different rules for men and women?  Were there castes of society not allowed to attend at all?  What did one do with his or her clothes when bathing?  Fortunately for me, there are historians with these same interests and I can scare up a book or a documentary that will tell me what I need to know.

Maybe my writing should be more disciplined.  Maybe I take too much time.  Maybe I shouldn’t be getting wrapped up in these little details until a second or even a third draft.  Maybe, but it doesn’t seem to be part of my process.

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Artist to Artist

17 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Kate in Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

artist, artist life, Blog, Blogging, Colorado Artists, Word Painting, Writer's Life

A couple of weeks ago, I got to tour the home studio of one of Colorado’s local artists.  Her name is Jan Myers and she first came to my notice because three of her paintings had been donated as silent auction items to the non-profit I work for.  The three paintings were landscapes and I thought they were beautiful.  I looked up Ms. Myers and found her website.  Perusal of said site brought me to the painting “Duck Cove Pond with Folly”.  I fell in love, my crafty brain generated an idea, and I called Ms. Myers.

Let me digress a bit to say no one is ever going to accuse me of being an art expert.  I don’t have an eye for it.  Modern art confuses me and the prices for what amounts to little more than colored swoops on a canvas horrify me.  I like pretty things.  My favorite painter is Claude Monet.  I love the misty look to his landscapes, the soft colors: I feel soothed when I look at it.  I liked Ms. Myer’s paintings for the same reason.  The colors were vivid, yet blended in her landscapes so that I had that same anticipation looking at them; like, if I were to go that magical place, anything would be possible.  And, because I like pretty pictures of flowers, trees, and ocean-scapes; I love my mother’s paintings.

A treat for my mother was the cunning plan generated by my brain.  I first called Ms. Myers before my mother’s birthday and asked if she gave studio tours, thinking what an awesome birthday present that would be.  Ms. Myers works in pastels which is a medium my mother doesn’t have any experience in.  My mother started in water colors and has only recently moved to acrylics.  I thought seeing another artist’s work, where and how another artist worked, and being able to talk to another artist would be good for Mom.  I tell her I like her paintings, mention the colors in one, the details in another, but I thought she needed contact with another painter.  Ms Myers was gracious and said ‘come’.  We set up a time.

Life intervened and it was closer to Mother’s Day before we made it out to Ms. Myer’s home.  It was worth the wait: the visit was everything I hoped for my mother.  Ms. Myers would describe a little of her process and I would see my mother come alive because she’d thought and felt the same way.  I was left alone in the living room with a collection of John Steinbeck’s short stories while my mother and Ms. Myers retreated to the back room where I could hear them muttering and exclaiming together.

After a time, Ms. Myers joined me, leaving my mother to have her first experiment with pastels.  And then, something happened I did not expect.  Ms. Myers and I began to discuss our processes and, though we were painter and writer, she and I shared similar struggles, similar processes, and were able to connect one to the other.

It was a strange mind shift for me; thinking of myself as an artist.  Most of my writing time is spent in my office in the basement, staring into the gaping maw of my computer monitor, trying to focus on the story in my mind instead of seeking out reasons to distract myself.  I’m not out staring at a mountain, seeking to capture colors, light, and texture or traveling to places that inspire me with a hope of sharing a little of what I see.  I’m not an artist.  Or am I?

I seek out isolated wilderness spots, journal in hand, attempting to put what I see in words.  How would I describe the sound of the wind in the trees?  How would I write the green and the blue I see without using ‘green’ or ‘blue’?  As I spoke with Ms. Myers, I saw that we were more alike than not despite her painting on canvas while I painted in print.  I was most excited to learn Ms. Myers was taking classes despite painting for over 40 years.  Even though she has decades of experience under her belt, she seeks out different techniques, tests out new styles, and her work moves in different directions.  It’s the same with me.  I’m constantly learning, tweaking, honing my voice in print.  I’ll have to accept that I’ll never be satisfied with my manuscript and send it out: there will always be room for growth and change.  I will, I promise (myself), but that day hasn’t yet come.  There are details missing, holes I need to fill.  Ms Myers said she has to put her paintings away for a time; then haul them out, set them up, and see what details she’s missed.  I laughed (in relief) when she said that.  I do the same thing: look at my manuscript with fresh eyes to see what keeps it from being whole.

It was a bit of an uncomfortable conversation for me albeit a nice, stretching of the consciousness sort.  I was relieved when our conversation moved from processes to discussing books; one of my favorite subjects and one we had not exhausted when my mother finished her pastel experiment and it was time for us to call it a day.  I wanted more than anything to purchase my “Duck Cove Pond with Folly” painting but finances don’t currently allow.  Instead, I found a card Ms. Myers had made with a photo of the painting.  I’ll look at that until I can afford the painting itself.  The place draws me.  I think it’s the sort of place a writer-an artist-would feel inspired.

Here are some of my favorite paintings by Jan Myers:

This is beautiful.  I look at it and want to go there.

This is beautiful. I look at it and want to go there.

This is my second favorite painting.  The colors in this especially that red, are beautiful.

This is my second favorite painting. The colors in this, especially that red, are captivating.

This is a new work: an example of the direction in which Ms. Myers is moving.

This is a new work: an example of the direction in which Ms. Myers is moving.

And some examples of my mother’s work:

One of Mom's watercolors.  I love the feeling of peace in this.

One of Mom’s watercolors. I love the feeling of peace in this.

One of Mom's works in acrylic.  She says she likes moving color around with the watercolors but has fun focusing on detail with acrylics.

One of Mom’s works in acrylic. She says she likes moving color around with the watercolors but has fun focusing on detail with acrylics.

One of my favorites: it's acrylic and I love all the color.

One of my favorites: it’s acrylic and I love all the color.

Interested in checking out more of Jan Myers’ work?  Here’s her website:

http://www.janmyers-artist.com/

Still trying to convince Mom to post her work…

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