Fantastical Worlds

I just received a gallery show email announcement from my office partner Carrie Knowles about the show that is going up in the rooms around me. I have the pleasure of sharing space with an artist/writer/gallerist, and I found this description of the art show inspiring in itself. Of course, you're also invited to come should you be in the Raleigh area.

"Coming the First Friday of November
At The Free Range Studio and Gallery
Australian Artist: Diana Maloney

Fantastical Journeys


Come take a journey through the slightly ironic dream life of Diana Maloney who creates an alternative universe through her paintings, drawings, and etchings where naked mariachi bands serenade you, faeries confound you with their presence and their magic, and the role of women in society gets a fresh take.


Diana is a dynamic emerging artistic presence in Australia and her work has begun to garner a great deal of attention as it challenges our senses and explores her own sense of confinement and freedom in the world.


Her work focuses on surreal dreamlike imagery laced with wit and whimsy that shifts between worlds of the real and the unreal. Her subject matter draws on an imperfect, out-of-proportion, half-remembered playground of her childhood. She uses the female form to express symbolic, literal, allegorical and spiritual associations.


As she says of her work: “I create a fantastic and ambiguous world in my work with reference to the role of women in society.”


From her miniature paintings to her large-scale works on paper and canvas, Diana is an important new feminine voice in art.


Opening reception on November 2, 2007 from 6pm-10pm. Fantastical Journeys will be at the Free Range Studio through the end of December.The Free Range Studio and Gallery is at 410 Morson Street in downtown Raleigh. Morson is a one block street between Bloodworth and East and runs parallel to New Bern and Hargett.The Free Range Studio and Gallery is open on First Fridays and by appointment: 821-3478."

Courage in Shadowy Places

In honor of the Halloween season, here's the second spooky story from shaman and author Kelley Harrell about one of her psychic experiences.


Whether you're a believer or not, I think you'll agree that what she did in this moment required enormous courage.


(I'll be at the beach Monday and therefore silent on the blog front. Back on Tuesday.)

Festival of Thinkers

My elder stepson Chuck has just arrived in Abu Dhabi to teach English. This is a place I've known little about--and my research has unveiled for me a dazzling city. The investment in some startling architecture is the strongest first impression. After that, I came to a second surprise. Last week, Abu Dhabi hosted a Festival of Thinkers.

I'd never heard of such a thing--and I really like the idea. Those in attendance included at least one Nobel laureate, a well-known Indian artist who is now in his nineties, the first woman from east or central Africa to receive a doctorate, and an American magazine editorial director sometimes known as "the queen of the tabloids.

I don't know what global problems were solved during the few days of the event, but I'll bet some new ideas hatched and some minds were expanded.

In addition to the homesite, there's a visually stunning photo-report on Abu Dhabi and its thinking festival on New York Social Diary.

The Charisma Tape

Last night in my mailbox was the tape from somewhere in the UK by the Confidence Club on "Physical Presence."

This is the one I reported ordering to help me develop some Bill Clinton-level charisma. So of course I broke into it first thing.

It's a hypnotic induction, therefore I listened in headphones, lying on the floor with my eyes covered. Total attention, insofar as I can manage that.

The assignment is to listen two or three times a week for a month. Here's my response on my initial run: First, it's an excellent relaxation induction. I zoned out pretty quickly. Became altogether still.

After the tone-setting came the material to establish what I think of as a powerful calm. The image that I remember--and I know there's some material I don't recall--was of a majestic tree on a hill that has seen a lot of human problems come and go. The listener practices being the tree, deeply rooted and weathering everything. Good image, I think.

Also--just now when I went to the website to get the link, it reminded me of a piece that had drifted from my consciousness: the part about posture and bearing. I don't remember exactly what was said, but that can be a good sign.

My take at this point: this has a lot of potential. Maybe to help me stop fiddling with this and that while I talk.

I'm going to be interested in what my husband Bob thinks of it. He's a clinical psychologist and last night was busy prepping for a seminar he's giving today on, as it happens, self-hypnosis.

Primitive Fears and Courage

The Halloween time of year brings is a reminder of our old fears of the dark and the unknown and eerie and otherworldly.

In honor of the season this year, my friend Kelley Harrell at Soulintent Arts, is telling of some of her own experiences of the supra-normal.

I find Story One thrilling.

A Boldness Totem

In response to my earlier post about my new archetypal red shoes, writer Mamie Potter sent this photo she took of a pair worn by a guest at her daughter's art show.

The same glorious shoes (almost.)

Red shoes happen to be a hot style item at the moment, but I have a feeling they're going to be a spicy part of my life for a long time after the fashion is over.

Does anyone else have a Boldness Totem?

I had one in the first grade: a starched cotton dress, blue as the Caribbean with white smocking that my grandmother added. It was my lucky dress. I don't think I've had such an item of lucky clothing since. But I do now.

California Fire

Folks, the news of the California fires is very bad. Debra Whaley who often comments on this site lives in one of the fire areas. I haven't heard whether she has had to be evacuated. Please do say a prayer for all the people there.

Permanent Creative Freedom

The lovely Lisa Gates on the Design Your Writing Life blog has posted today a half hour audio interview with me, titled Toward Permanent Creative Freedom. She and I carry on there most entertainingly. I had fun. Also, she has a terrifically helpful blog. I go there often. Do go visit.

Risking The Red Shoes

Couple of weeks ago, I bought myself these red shoes.

As you may know, red shoes have a history as an archetype. There's a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale by that name, of the girl who puts on red shoes and can't stop dancing no matter how bad she feels or how hard she tries.

In the 1992bestseller Women Who Run With The Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes interprets this tale as one of addiction. The girl is seizing on something external that promises satisfaction, but instead creates only the need for more.

For some time, I'd been thinking about these red shoes. They finally drew me to the store, and I got them. And I've worn them quite a bit since.

I can be the sort who sees one chocolate cookie as a slippery slope. But in my new bold clarity, I'm taking the chance here, risking the possibility of going completely over the top. I'm wearing the shoes. So far, so good. I feel pretty sure I can quit whenever I want.

The Willingness to be Strong

My friend Stephanie Bass, writer and strategic planner, had just come from her yoga class. We were having lunch at Logan's, a garden store with a cafe in an old railway station.

She and I started a group about ten years ago that we call Mystic Pizza. It's a bunch of what might be referred to by others as New Age types who meet for lunch once a month to discuss things metaphysical. She missed the last lunch. We were catching up.

Her news from her inner world: the yoga class had been turning into a struggle, especially with poses that required upper body strength. UNTIL she recently had the thought: I AM WILLING TO BE STRONG.

Since then, she has had far less trouble. When she hits a tough spot, she tells herself she can go a little farther. And a little farther. And when she hits a wall, she just stays comfortable there.

As a result, she has become physically stronger. And the attitude is spilling over into the rest of her life: a bit more calm strength than she thought she had, which leads to more still.

I guess I wanted to tell you about the location of the restaurant, The Seaboard Cafe, because both the willingness to be strong and the surrounding plants and the fact that we got much-much-needed rain today all felt so healthy and refreshing.

I feel stronger and more clear-eyed just from the conversation.

The Dictionary of Creativity

Here's an intriguing new online resource: a glossary of terms and ideas relating to the creative process.
This compendum goes beyond the usual role of a dictionary in that it defines concepts: detached devotion, the ten-year rule, secondary process, etc. And it summarizes research in the field of creativity.
Curiosity doesn't take long to define, but there are interesting little mini-essays on such subjects as novelty, and the distribution of creativity over time and space. I never knew for example that research into the function and enhancement of creativity began with inquiry into what makes a genius.
The writing in this "dictionary" is quite scholarly, with a wide range of sources, Freud to Ecclesiastes. You may want to skim the drier stuff, but there are some interesting nuggest in here.

Remember to Say the (Seemingly) Obvious!

I announced in an earlier post, that I was taping my new law of strong, clear, impassioned writing onto my monitor.

And then forgot all about it, until I was reminded by two people in their comments. This new law for my work (and life) is to remember to say what seems to me obvious, which often tends to be the most important part of the message.

Now in this photo, you see it, as promised, on my monitor. And I'm certain that it's already working.

Technically, for most persuasive power, I should put it more positively, more directly still: REMEMBER TO SAY THE OBVIOUS.

Okay, now I'm putting that one up too, at the top of my screen.

Thanks for the help, Debra and Erin.

My Same Old Communication Error

Yesterday in conversation, I once again made my characteristic error: the one that plagues me in writing and causes me to have to do so many drafts of everything I write.

I left out the part that seemed to me obvious.

That would work if everyone saw things in the same way. But it seems that we don't, so this is a bad strategy.

Therefore, my new motto: Nothing goes without saying. I'm taping it onto my monitor.

A Creative Castle

A wildly successful inventor-entrepreneur has an indoor treehouse and a bunch of other non-standard domestic items at his house.

Scott Jones and his castle and his work habits are profiled in a series of six articles in Fortune. Be sure to click to the next article at the bottom of each one.

He's an inspiration.

Protecting Our Creative Time

Keeping the time open to do creative work can be as difficult as protecting pristine wilderness. The urge to take on too much--and make other people happy in the moment--can be overwhelming.

Today a column for teenagers by Lacia Johnson in The Jamaica Observer offers a checklist of questions to consider when somebody else has an interesting plan for a piece of our time.

Do I have the time (without delaying my own work)?
Will I feel pressured to get it done?
Will I be upset with myself?
Will I feel resentful of the other person?
Will I feel duped, had or swindled?
What do I have to give up to do this?

In my experience, the easiest way to make the right decision is to say: let me think about that and call you tomorrow.

Confidence Club

I just ordered a CD on Developing Physical Presence from a site called Confidence Club.

Here are the results I'm promised:

"You will deal more effectively with potential confrontation. People will listen to you more regularly and more attentively. You will experience less difficulty in making your views known. You will feel more comfortable and relaxed when meeting new people."

I ordered this because I'd like to feel what it's like to be the Bill Clinton in a room, to have my version of his famous charisma to get my various messages across clearly. (This is perhaps a tad more than was promised.)

I'm not exactly shy now, to put it mildly. But a fair number of hello-in-passing acquaintances don't recognize me until I remind them. I'm mild and pale enough that I can blur with others who look like me.


And I know how to be invisible; I use this skill on days when I don't even want to say hello.

More than one psychic/intuitive/reader has told me that my aura is pulled in so close that it barely extends beyond my body. I sort-a like that, so I don't have to get involved with everything and everybody my eyes fall upon. However, I'd like to be able to expand with the speed of an air bag, as needed.

So I've ordered this hypnotic induction that is going to teach me how. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm quite eager to find out.

Age is No Excuse

In an L.A. Times article titled "It's Never Too Late to Create," an economist and the editor of The Chicago Review list some of the artists who have done "game-changing work" at quite grown-up ages.

Paul Cezanne created his influential work in his 60s, for example. Clint Eastwood is making his most highly-acclaimed movies in his mid-70s. Louise Bourgeois bloomed in her 80s. Etc. (L.A. is a town that needs to hear that, since there's such a youth bias in all aspects of the movie business.)

At the same time, being too young is no excuse for holding back either. There's little more pleasingly marketable to a publisher than a writer so young that it's newsworthy.


In fact, whatever we might view as an obstacle can become a news angle to draw interest when the creation is ready to go out into the world.

The Courage Spider

A writer friend of mine had surgery on her wrist that left a narrow scar running straight up her arm.


So she added a tattoo: At the bottom of that thread of a line, she now has an inked-in spider. That little fellow reminds her, many times a day, to have the courage to go into any dark places where her writing wants to take her.

That image might stop a lot of people. But not her. She has found the reminder that works for her. Which is what we each have to do: find what works, on this particular project, at this time.

How Altruism Enhances Creativity

From Karen Armstrong's The Spiral Staircase: My Climb out of Darkness

“Insight does not always come to order, and there will certainly be no renaissance if you are merely trying to ‘get' something for yourself. As soon as I stopped trying to exploit my literary skills to advance my career or enhance my reputation, I found that I was opening myself to the text, could lose myself in the beauty of the words and in the wisdom of the writer. It was a kind of ekstasis…a going beyond the self.”

I ran across the quote in Gaining: The Truth about Life after Eating Disorders by Aimee Liu.


It dovetails with the philosophy of a book I co-wrote a few years ago with Allan Luks: The Healing Power of Doing Good.


I never thought until now about how that principle of expanding my focus beyond myself could lead to better reading and writing, as well as better physical and mental health.

Writing simply to say what needs to be said can lift the heavy restrictions of self-consciousness.

What's Your Book ABOUT?

From Design Your Writing Life, which credits Copyblogger:


"It's not uncommon for writers to get 5, 10, 20,000 words down the road and bump up against the thought, "What in the heck am I writing about?" If this is where you find yourself now, here are six starting points for doing the back cover writing exercise:


Title your book. Go ahead, just make one up.


Write a headline. This should be a grabber, and a great place to start is to pose a question, the million dollar question.


Paragraph One: Answer the question. Provide a thumbnail of the plot through the eyes of your main characters, and their core conflicts. What are they up against? What's in their way?


Paragraph Two: Describe the outer world. Give us some context. Create the bigger world your characters live in--time, place, sensibility.


Write in the language and feel of your novel. Think of yourself as an actor trying on a costume. As a writer, your costume is the nature and feel of the language.


Write a closing sentence. This sentence can allude to the resolution of the book. Because this is an exercise and not the actual back cover copy, don't worry about giving away the store."

Put Your Mug Where Your Mouth Is

If you'd like the U.S. to withdraw from Iraq, here's a step you can take to lobby Congress for this. Send a picture of yourself with some symbol showing your support of ending the war to Americans for Exit. America's political leaders will soon see the many and various faces of those of us who want peace.

Assertive Art

"'...Positive assertiveness is the courage needed to express a disconnect with a ‘different point of view’ or with another person’s style of engagement. It is the capacity to not say ‘yes’ when you mean ‘no’ or ‘maybe’; it is the willingness to put forth a radical, unconventional idea without the fear of ridicule...'"

This quote comes from an article in the India-based Economic Times about appropriate assertiveness in the workplace. The piece points out that such behavior helps the individual's self-esteem and creates a better environment for innovative ideas.

India is one of the last places such philosophy might be expected to come from. I'd read--and I saw when I lived in Varanasi researching Sister India--that Indian business and government tend to be ferociously hierarchical. Protocols, procedures, and chain-of -command rule.

At the other end of the spectrum, American artists are about as free as people ever are. And yet so many of us do struggle with uneasy shifting fears about our work. That it won't be accepted. That someone will hate it/us. That it's stupid. Etc.

I once heard actor/director/ screenwriter/musician Billy Bob Thornton say in a TV interview that he was going to be crucified when his new project came out. What I believe he meant was that he expected to get a lot of criticism.

Criticism and crucifixion are two different things.

That being the case, I feel I have no excuse for not fully expressing myself in my writing. Nobody is going to crucify me. And if Indian employees can stand up to their bureaucracies, surely I can tap out honest words in the privacy of my little office.

The worst that can happen is that nobody buys the piece. And I'll bet more books have failed out of the writer holding back--consciously or unconsciously--than have ever failed out of courage.

BTW, fear doesn't seem to have held Billy Bob back.

To Change One's Life

From William James, author of The Varieties of Religious Experience:



To change one's life:

Start immediately

Do it flamboyantly.

No exceptions.



(A thought about flamboyance: it constitutes a public announcement, which tends to strengthen a commitment.)

Any Questions About Writing or the Writing Business?

Part of my consulting work with other writers is answering questions by phone, things like: how long should I wait before calling the agent who's looking at my work? Or: can I send a story to two journals at once? How do I get myself back to writing? I do charge for these phone calls.

Today, however is FREEBIE DAY for writers with questions. Or, more accurately, freebie post.

If you'd like to send a question in the comment section of this post, I'll do my best to answer it. Not, of course, that I have all the answers. But I can tell you what I'd do, or what my experience and that of other writers has been.

And perhaps other commenters can offer their solutions.

Y'all have been quite helpful with some of your comments to me about my dilemmas. If you think of anything I can offer you here in dealing with yours, do SEND YOUR QUESTION. If this draws interest, I'll continue to do it again from time to time.

CHANGE TO STRANGE

A business professor at nearby UNC has written a book with an encouraging philosophy--one that gives me hope for the world's future.

The book by Daniel M. Cable, reviewed this weekend in my local News & Observer, is Change to Strange: Create a Great Organization by Building a Strange Workforce.

What he suggests here is that there is tremendous value in distinctiveness. So don't hide it, capitalize on it.

I love this idea--as long as the "strangeness" comes naturally and isn't contrived for an audience AND strangeness doesn't turn into a new orthodoxy.

This line of thinking could add a lot of juice to the world, to the process of work and to the product.

Ad agencies have known this for a long time. The hall that houses "the creative side" will sometimes have more bright-colored toys (for stimulating creativity) than a daycare center. And copywriters and art directors tend to dress funky. You'll rarely see flowing sleeves or paper airplanes in flight over on the hall where the account executives reside.

To be able to come up with creations like the Geico gecko it helps to have to have a little room to maneuver. Even if you choose to use that flexibility to wear a Brooks Brothers suit.

The Business of Being More Outspoken

I announced, in the previous post, my intention to gripe sooner when I feel that someone is treading upon me. And I find that's doing good things for me and my treaders.

Now I'm trying to figure out how to make that attitude do good things for my writing. Certainly it should--since the very essence of being outspoken is being overwhelmingly clear. And, in spite of lots of effort, I am easily misunderstood.

Half of me has been trying for years to overcome that problem, personally and professionally. The other half has been finding ways to sabotage the attempt.

For example, I recently decided to ramp up the volume in a stretch of pages. I successfully did so. Then I reread them after a lapse of time. I saw that what I'd done was to make all the scenes in the section uniformly loud and dramatic. As a result, nothing in the sequence has any emphasis and nothing stands out. I might as well not have bothered; a loud monotone is the same as a quiet monotone.

See what I mean by sabotage?

Well, I'm aiming to be through with this sabotage. I believe both halves of me are convinced.

More and Better Complaining

I'm having to make a peculiar and backwards-seeming change in my behavior.

It appears that I'm going to have to start griping more. I won't burden you with the messy details, but a few times recently I've stayed "nice" a beat or ten too long and wound up exploding.

After much thought and conversation, I've come to realize that it's really important for me to say earlier when something doesn't suit me. To say it more than once, if need be.

I've never liked the idea. In spite of such flourishes as my painting my car floral, I'm basically a low-key and somewhat stoical sort.

Now I am convinced that I must become overtly cranky more of the time. This is huge. I expect I'll find it interesting. Perhaps, ideally, even liberating.

Trying Too Hard to Win

This from Best Life magazine, an essay on "My Defining Moment" by rodeo Hall of Famer Ty Murray (as told to Bill Keith):

"...I had kicked ass all season long, but when it came down to the final ride for the championships, I would choke. I would come out like a long-distance runner taking off in a full sprint, not thinking about his breathing, his form, or his balance."

His mom--he was a high school student at the time--told him he was trying too hard. His senior year her advice sank in. "Instead of coming out like a boxer with his head down, windmilling his punches, I had to treat each time I got on the bull the exact same way, putting myself into the mental state that it was just another...practice ride."

That worked. And he transferred the wisdom to the rest of his life.

The ability to do that--and I don't find it easy or at times even possible--would certainly be a big help, not only with The Big Project but with The Big Job Interview, The Big Date, etc.

It's what I sometimes call "nerve in the curve." Stick to your game plan even in the scariest moments. In addition to improving performance, it feels better.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing: The Final Installment

(This is the conclusion of an essay, serialized on this site, on my gathering courage for gutsier writing--and doing it on a crossing on the QE2. It ends with my three secrets for writing bolder. If you've made similar decisions in your work, please do share them in the comments. )



Staking out the lounge outside the dining room, I'd waited almost half an hour, when Francis Ford Coppola, in flowing Hawaiian shirt, arrived for lunch. "Hi," I said, getting to my feet, careful not to block his way in case he wanted to bolt and run. Could I speak with him, I said, waving my notebook as a credential, about writing on board the QE2? Was he working on a script?

With weary patience, he gestured us to two chairs, plopped down the sack holding his laptop computer. He has been writing on this voyage, he said, as he has done on this ship before.

Outside the window, fog hung thick over the water. A somber cello played from the speaker in the corner of the room. The father of the Godfather movies settled back in his chair. On this same ship, he said, he wrote sections of Godfather III. This trip, he was adapting John Grisham's novel The Rainmaker.

He likes to work by day at the gaming tables downstairs in the casino. They're the perfect height; and the process of the writing: "it's like a game." The ship is a place, he said, "in which you can have privacy, a chance of not being interrupted." I looked up from my notes. So passengers haven't been pestering him? "Only you," he said, an amused smile.

"I'll let you go," I said, half-hoping he would defend his privacy.

"No, no," dismissing the idea with a wave.

At that point, Ray Bradbury, formal in coat and tie, stopped to say hello. Coppola had a question for him he'd been meaning to ask: what were his favorite science fiction movies of all time?

"Close Encounters of the Third Kind," Bradbury began, "it's flawed, but the closing minutes are transcendent, with hope for the future...."

Bradbury went on to his table, and Coppola to his, to lunch with his young granddaughter. I went for a walk. Outside, the fog felt damp and oddly warm, the ocean moving in big grey swells. New York's bright skyline, its publishing offices, were more than a thousand miles behind us.

Like Coppola, I decided, I'm going to put aside my privacy, enough to tell an unguarded story. Like Bradbury, I'll stick by what I love, even if the other kids laugh. Like the Welsh, struggling to save their language, I am going to speak in my own voice. In the coming 25 years, I will tell stories that are peculiarly mine: the ones that rise, irrepressibly, to the surface, weird as sea creatures. I'm going to write those stories, whatever shape they take, whatever they cost me. I've half-known this for a while. Out here in the middle of the ocean, I can look back and see that, some time ago, I crossed a line, steamed into this territory that is new and, at the same time, home.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing: Part 6

(This is the penultimate installment of a serialized essay on a crucial moment in gathering courage to write.)




Dinner: carpaccio, kiwi sorbet, duck a l'orange. A very good red wine. ...And Francis Ford Coppola, we finally realized, was eating only one table away. I'd thought that man looked familiar. Big and bearded, the famous screenwriter and director was supervising the dinners of the two children who were with him. He seemed to me a man who wanted his privacy, who did not want to be noticed.

Next morning: lying in bed, reflections of the water outside racing across the ceiling. I could understand Coppola's wanting to be left alone. My first novel Revelation has a bone-honesty that was painful for me. The story of a troubled minister, it is fiction; yet that minister's cast of mind is close to my own. Delicious as publication of that book was, I also came to feel as if my brain had been laid bare. As one reader said to me with a teasing grin, "we know you thought those thoughts." I've since half-consciously wanted to pull the drapes around myself.

But then I discovered it's impossible to write a memoir and maintain more than a minimal privacy. The new book would have to be far more revealing than Revelation, with its mere hints of my inner world. This made me angry, I resented it; but decided to proceed anyway. With a sense that I was doing violence to myself, I began the long work of dismantling the habits of guardedness, fearing of course, as I still do, that I might reveal myself only to find no one interested.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing: Part 5

(This is part of a serialized story about a creative crisis on an ocean liner leading me to stronger writing. To begin at the beginning, go to the August posts and begin with August 10, then scroll forward for other segments.)


On deck, midway through the voyage: my manuscript in my lap, the sounds of deck tennis behind me, the passing waves pure navy blue. The thought of actually writing--doing the thing that has been for me a way of life--makes me want to sob.

Skimming a few pages, I jotted a note: cut to the chase faster, make it more visual, more concrete. ...Then pushed it aside, took up a novel of Doris Lessing's, Summer Before the Dark. I was too restless to read, moved to another chair that got more sun. Still couldn't settle; I gave up and started walking the deck, up and down steps, through hallways, out again into the air, covering many lengths of football field.

...And came unexpectedly to a stop before the door of the computing center, deep in the ship's interior. The room was quiet, between classes. I sat down at a PC, got out my notes, started to type: I'm in India, my city Varanasi has erupted in street fighting, been shut down by police and military troops. A million people forced indoors day and night. After six days, I've decided to break curfew, go outside; I've been assured that foreigners are safe. "Stepping out the gate in front of the flat," I write, "I looked up and down the empty road. I felt tentative, as if I were testing the ground to be sure it would hold me...."

Breaking curfew--that, I realize, is what I've begun to do in my writing. Stepping outside of confinement to see where that leads. ...A great stirring of talking and laughing behind me: the computer class had arrived. I'd written only three paragraphs. Yet I felt exultant. It wasn't because of the plain sentences I'd gotten down. Instead, simply by recognizing what I was doing, I felt as if I'd taken a step toward freer expression.

The Personal Development List

This blog was included on a wonderful list of Personal Development Blogs. I was asked to add five new ones to the list and pass the list on. Here are the additional five:

Christine Valters Painter at Abbey of the Arts
Laura at Organizing Junkie
Nancy Mills at The Spirited Woman
JodeeB at You Already Know This Stuff
Brooke at Plain Advice


And here's the list, an impressive resource, from Priscilla Palmer:


Aaron Potts at Today is That Day
Adam Alexander at Adam’s Peace
Adam Kayce at Monk at Work
Adam Khoo at Adam Khoo’s Philosophies and Investing Insights
AgentSully at Life Learning Today
April Groves at Making Life Work For You
Argancel at C’eclair (for those who speak french)
Ash aka Mr. Biggs at One Powerful Word
Al at 7pproductions.com
Alan Torres at Made to Be Great
Alex Shalman at AlexShalman.com
Alexander Kjerulf at The Chief Happiness Officer
Alexys Fairfield at Unraveling The Spiritual Mystique
Albert Foong at urbanmonk.net
Amber at Random Mangus
Amie Ragan at Psychology of Clutter
Amy Hedin at There is no Maximum to Human Potential
Andrea Learned at Learned on Women
Andrea J. Lee at Money, Meaning, and Beyond
Andy Wibbels at AndyWibbels.com
Anita Pathik Law at Power of four Way
Anmol Mehta at AnmolMetha.com
Anna Farmery at The Engaging Brand
Antonio Thornton at AntonioThornton.com
Ariane Benefit at Neat & Simple Living
Ask Lucid at Ask Lucid Spiritual Development
Barbara Sliter at Creatorship
Belle Wong at Abundance Journal
Bill Perry at Lucid Blog
Billy Smith at The Organic Leadership Blog
Blogfuse at LifeDev
Brad Isaac at Achieve It
Brian Clark at Copyblogger
Brian Kim at briankim.net
Brian Lee at geniustypes.com
Bob at everyeveryminute
Cam Beck at ChaosScenario
Cara Lumen at The Success Magnets With Cara Luman and Your Second Wind Blog
Carlon Haas at Possess Less Exist More
Chris Cree at SuccessCREEations
Chris Marshall at Martial Development
Chris Owen at Pink Apple
Christine Kane at ChristineKane.com
Clyde at Feeling Good
Colin Beavan at No Impact Man
Conceive, Believe, Achieve at Conceive, Believe, Achieve
Craig Harper at Motivational Speaker
Curt Rosengren at Occupational Adventure
Cyres at Cyres Matters
Damian Carr at Soul Terminal
Daniel Sitter at Idea Sellers
Darren Rowse at Problogger.net
Dave Schawbel at The Personal Branding Blog
Dave Schoof at Engaging the Disquiet
Davers at Language Trainers Blog
David Allen at The David Allen Company
David Bohl at Reflections on Balance
David Fitch at David Fitch.com
David Richeson at 360 Degree Success
David Rogers at How to Have Great Self Confidence
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Scott Adams at The Dilbert Blog
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Scott Bernadot at Keeping The Secret
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Tony Chimento at Living Forward
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Travis A. Sinquefield at Disorganizational Behavior
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Trevor Gay at Simplicity is the Key
Troy Worman at Orbit Now!
Tuck Self at Rebel Belle Blog
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Vera Nadine at Vera Nadine.com
Vickie at Contemplate This
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Wan Qi at Meditation Forum Mantras
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A Note About My Personalized Car

I've been getting more credit than was due on the floral car debuting two posts ago. I used a stencil, twisting it this way and that, and using different bits of it. I didn't draw it freehand.

The stencil came from The Stencil Library, which boasts the world's largest mail-order collection. Also, important to note: they now have a BIG AND BOLD group of stencils. The one I bought was offered at a smaller size; they doubled it for me.

At Sea With My Writing: Part Four

(This is a section of a story running here in serial about a writing crisis on the ocean liner QE2 that resulted in a dramatic change in my approach to my work.)


Next day--I'm losing track of the days, and I'm not working on my book, I'm thinking about it. I've resolved to hold off writing, to think as long as I need. Easier to do here than it would be at home.

A lecture by science fiction writer Ray Bradbury: I remember my excitement when I first read a story of his in high school. Yes, he is working on a new novel on this cruise, he said, while waiting to go onstage. And he has written on this ship before. On an earlier crossing he got an idea for a new novel the night he boarded. He saw a passenger in a hallway, "some sort of English lord," a man whose face had been "horribly destroyed." Bradbury was so upset by the thought of a man losing his face that he burst into tears. And then he began writing. He finished the first 100 pages of A Graveyard for Lunatics on that voyage, working at night on a soundless typewriter.

His speech was, like my stateroom, exactly what I wanted. He told the audience how in 1929 when he was 12, he "fell in love with the future," and began collecting Buck Rogers spaceman comic strips. "All the kids in fifth grade made fun of me." And so he tore up his collection, then regretted it. Doing that, he said, "I killed myself. I killed the future. I listened to the damn fools."

He returned to Buck Rogers, whatever the other fifth-graders might think. When his big break came, years later, it was because of boyhood passions he'd held onto. Director John Huston, on reading a Bradbury story about a dinosaur, called to ask if he'd like to write a screenplay, in the same spirit, about a white whale.

My Artcar!

Nothing helps my writing like dabbling playfully in some other art form. This is the grandest scale on which I've dabbled. It's major cross-training.

For years, I've imagined having a car that's crawling with blue morning glories. I'm happy as can be with the outcome.

This portait of me and my personally hand-decorated machine was shot in a parking lot after a Mexican lunch by a friend with a car phone who says she shoots much better pictures with her real camera.

In addition to the value of the cross-training--and of course the sheer beauty of the artwork--there's an encouraging sense of satisfaction about setting off on an outrageous little undertaking like my Morning Glory Project and completing it. (Well, almost completing it: I still have the other side to do...and the clear coat. But I couldn't wait to show you.)

Powdermilk Biscuits

The research I'm doing just now on my biography subject is in the 1800-1903 period, and so I'm immersed in the language of that period.

One old-fashioned word I read this week leapt out at me: FAINT-HEARTED.

Now I'm a great fan of subtlety, of civility; I'm actually a rather mild-mannered person, not rowdy at all. Part of the reason I write on such a subject as boldness is to make sure I don't sink into a Henry James novel and never come out.

However, I feel sure that even the most deliberately low-key individual would howl at the accusation of being faint-hearted. Who would choose to have a faint heart?

With that in mind, if I look at particular daily behaviors of mine, like procrastinating about jumping into my writing, they could look suspiciously like a lack of courage and passion for what I'm doing. If I remind myself of that, I am immediately emboldened, immediately of stouter heart. (If I'm not careful, this research into 1900 will have me going around saying words like "ere" and "tarrying"and phrases like "happiest hours.") Ere I tarry further, I'll remind myself that my book writing time dwells among my happiest hours.

Does anyone else have a word or image that immediately impels them to do the thing that needs doing?

In Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon, Powdermilk Biscuits give shy people the strength to get up and do what needs to be done.

Writing and Not-Writing on the QE2

Here is Part III in my mid-ocean writing crisis. Click to Part I and then scroll forward in time to read from the beginning.


Heavy seas woke us in the night, the room swinging. In the morning: a touch of seasickness, a staggering sweaty moment in the stairwell on the way to breakfast. I bought a pair of those little wristbands that are supposed to help. They did.

Then to a lecture on Wales, the country that is the theme of this crossing. Welsh historian Dr. Geraint Jenkins talked about how the people of Wales were for years not allowed speak their own language: they had English forced on them, and then began to adopt that foreign language. And yet, he said, they remained themselves. "We have our own personality and our own character ...Wales has still clung on." The Welsh have begun to reclaim their language.

...Which surely is what I am doing in my writing. I'm troubled, though, that I don't seem to have any choice in the matter. It is happening, no matter what I do.



Captain on the loudspeaker: we've traveled 644 miles since yesterday, passing the southernmost limits of the ice fields. "The QE2 will be steaming safely clear of the ice throughout the afternoon."
On a tour of the ship's galley, I met a novelist who intends to finish his new book on this six-day voyage. Peter Joseph--dark, intense, with typed pages protruding from his hip pocket. His novel is about Matisse's crossing these same waters on the Mauretania, titled Matisse in Deep Water. The QE2 is rich with good details for his story. "Are you a Southerner?" he asked, as we compared book notes. "Your accent is smothered," he said, "but it's still there."

Can Do: Expanding the Possibilities

The latest on my Morning Glory Project: This weekend I painted my car a fresh-snow white. Its old color was that of urban snow, pocked with black in every square inch of the roof and hood where tree sap had dropped and then gotten dingy.

So, I put on a new clean coat, forming the background for next weekend's application of glorious morning glories. (If you're new to this blog, please note my practice run on the file cabinet.Afterwards, on Monday, I kept telling people: I painted my car this weekend. Sanded, washed, dried, taped up, and sprayed, then sprayed again.People kept saying variations of the same idea: you can do that? Or: I didn't know that was something people did.The "you" referred to wasn't me; it meant "one." One can do that? The question reminded me: one can do a whole lot of things that might seem impossible. This floral-car project seems perfectly reasonable to me. Writing a novel quickly doesn't. Maybe I could rethink that.

(Part 3 of my writing crisis on the QE2 will appear on Friday.)

Part II of A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing

(This is the serialized story of a writing crisis/career decision that took place on a crossing on the Queen Elizabeth 2, prior to publication of my novel Sister India. I came out of it with more resolution and courage in my writing. Part I was published last week.)


The ship set sail at midnight; my husband Bob and I joined the other passengers crowded along the deck rails. With the feel of New Year's Eve, we watched the long Manhattan skyline slide past, the lighted towers of the World Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty with torch alight.

...Then to the cabin, which looked exactly as I wanted it to: in the style of the golden era of liners earlier in this century. The walls were wood-paneled; there was a dressing table with a round Art Deco mirror, a spray of blooming orchids. I could settle in, wrap up in one of the QE2 bathrobes we found in the closets and, at some point, take out my stack of manuscript. Pure indulgence: this was being a writer the way it would be if Lauren Bacall were playing the part.

First day: the sky bright, the wind brisk. The swells rolling past were an even blue, whipped at the top into whitecaps. Some young Italian boys were playing deck tennis with a couple of American girls. The ship had the feel of a summer morning in childhood: step out your cabin door and play. People were shopping at the shipboard Harrods, taking the waters in the lower deck spa, sitting before PCs in the computing class, listening to the chamber music quartet. Outside the ship's library, readers had settled into armchairs along a long sunlit corridor that looked out on the water. I walked, tried to see everything.

A lunch of cold lobster and fresh pineapple, followed by creme brulee. Bob was downstairs in the weight room working out; I drank a second cup of tea, looked out at the water. The manuscript I've brought is my memoir of a winter I spent in India during an outbreak of Hindu-Muslim rioting and bombing. It's a strange hybrid book: nonfiction, structured like a journal, yet written in scenes like a novel. My agent sent the first eighty pages to several publishers who rejected it, saying: "What is it? Where would you shelve it?..."

I'd thought after I published my first novel Revelation that everything would become easy. It hasn't. Market niches and "big" mass market books are a larger factor in what the major houses publish now. Perhaps more important, my own style of writing has, in fits and starts, gradually changed. After so many years of matching anybody's style, from Cosmopolitan to The New York Times, and doing it almost reflexively, I find I can no longer count on myself to whip out a few pages the way someone else wants it. It's a change that scares me: writing is the way I've always made my living.

Artcar Progress: A Practice Run

Update on the the Morning Glory Project: I'm testing my plan on a thrift-shop file cabinet before actually approaching my car with sander or spray paint can.

I've sensed the old Camry warily watching this progress, but I think this first practice attempt is looking pretty good. Though I'm going to get a new green; this one's a little murky. And I'll paper over a larger area, since the green misted the top white part a bit here.

I've also realized that doing this around both sides and back of my car is going to take longer than the Sistine Chapel. That's all right. (My husband tells me I like "Great Wall of China projects." I think that's a useful cast of mind for a novelist.)

Note: Part II of A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing will appear Friday.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing

(This is the opening section of an essay I wrote a few years back about an Atlantic crossing on the QE2 that altered me and my writing, that gave me greater resolution and courage. The piece was published in The Spectator in Raleigh and won an honorable mention in literary magazine Rosebud's creative nonfiction contest. A Washington Post travel editor asked to publish it, but changed her mind when I told her it had come out in a local paper, and that I was writing about a subsidized press trip. I will be publishing this here as a serial. This is Part One.)






Even from the farthest reach of the dock on New York's 53rd Street, the Queen Elizabeth 2 was too long to photograph. I couldn't, with a wide-angle lens, get the whole ship into the frame at once. So I shot it by halves, the front and then the back, not sure what I'd do with two mismatched ship halves when I got home.

This ship, the QE2, is the last of the world's transatlantic liners. The Cunard brochure had described it as three football fields long. I don't measure things in football fields. I keep score in numbers of words, copy-inches, books. It's as a writer that I was heading to sea, and not only as a travel writer with a notebook, but as a novelist bringing along a manuscript that had been too long in progress. I was running late, by years, in getting another book out, felt pressed, frustrated, discouraged. I planned to look at the manuscript, away from my usual life, see where I stood with it. (Working aboard the QE2 was an idea that had also occurred to Francis Ford Coppola, Ray Bradbury, and other writers I would soon meet toting manuscripts on this voyage.)

But there was still another reason for my taking this trip: I am approaching the anniversary of my 25th year as a freelance writer, two and a half decades typing out of one little office or another in Raleigh, North Carolina. This crossing was to be both a celebration and, optimistically, the start of my career's second half, another 25 years. I wanted to spend a week living the writer's life the way it's supposed to be, working onboard ship in a grand, leisurely way ...And heading for new territory. My destination on this voyage was the country of Wales, a place I'd never been. One of my tasks there was to research an article on the struggle of the Welsh people to keep their language alive. I sympathized with their cause; after so many years of writing for publication, I'd come to wonder how much of my own voice was alive.

(Note: I'd love to hear from anyone who has had such a question about his or her voice...and how you've dealt with the issue. )

Today's Bold Proclamation

I'm hereby endorsing, supporting, and ordering bumper stickers to elect:
Al Gore.

He opposed the Iraq war early. He's in favor of the planet. He's for civil liberties and against the Patriot Act. I think he'll do as well as any on healthcare. These are the four biggest issues for me. I admire a great deal about Obama, Edwards, and Clinton. But every one of them has been at some point too hawkish for me.

And as for stopping global warming: it's damn hot here. Alarmingly hot. I say elect the guy today.

A Must-Visit: Dare to Be Fabulous

I just had a peek at a website with the enticing name of Dare to Be Fabulous. First let me mention that I've been feeling quite hit-by-a-truck today.

The art on the homepage alone perked me up enough so that I now have the strength to get out of the office and go to either a movie, a sofa with a book, or a hot tub. Any of those sound fabulous to me. I've just finished an enormous chunk of work done during the same three weeks in which we had both a small party and a houseguest for ten days. All three of these items are good and satisfying experiences, but at some point afterwards one needs a lie-down. This is it for me. Have a good weekend.

A Simple Means of Personal Transformation

A line from a story by Kristina Mahoney in The Boston Globe:
"I became curious about life beyond my own self-imposed limitations."

Following the example of her mentor, this woman followed her curiousity and her life grew immensely richer.

Change for the good can be that simple: following those flashes of interest that can come and go in a second, taking the next step, seeing something new grow.

The Morning Glory Project

I've tended to think--wrongly, I know--that a bold action is necessarily one quick simple movement. I'm finding that my current experiment in audacity--the Morning Glory Project-- is slow and involves lots of little pieces.

To paint these flowers on my aged car, I've so far assembled the equipment : borrowed sander, the right grade of sandpaper, spray paints, and a stencil. I also have an old $6 thrift shop filing cabinet I'm going to do first for practice. That's how far along I am now. Today I crank up the sander and grind on the file cabinet. Will report on progress.

I sorta wish I could just wake up tomorrow with giant morning glories growing all over my car. But doing the bits and pieces seems a necessary part of the process. As with writing books, etc.