Some years ago, I attended the publication party at Carnegie Hall of a novel about a musician, BODY & SOUL, written by Frank Conroy, who was head of the famed creative writing program at Iowa.
Turns out that Conroy was also a terrific jazz piano player; he stayed at the piano much of the night.
When I got home with his novel, I came to a passage about being a musician that offered a bit of wisdom that works as well for writers.
The talented young man in the story was trying to play an exceptionally demanding piece. He told his teacher that he couldn't quite get all the way to the sound he was aiming for. He could come close but then he would come to a sort of wall; his fingers were too stupid to make the leap over that invisible barrier,.
THE BIT OF WISDOM: His teacher told him to let his fingers carry him as far as they would. Then while playing he should focus on the result he was aiming for, and imagine the sound lifted over the wall. Eventually, the force of that imagined music, that aural "visualization" would take his playing where he wanted it to go.
MY WRITERLY APPLICATION: Keep writing, letting knowledge of craft do all it can. Keep in mind, while working, the emotional heart of the story. Then let imagination send its shooting currents--unpredictable but ultimately trustworthy--and ride them to see where they go.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Writing Goal for the Day
I seem to be having a hard time managing myself lately. I tell myself I'm going to work on this or that and then I don't.
Since I'm self-employed I find this particularly unnerving. I have the feeling, right or wrong, that everything depends on my doing what I decide to do.
So I'm resorting to a SOLUTION that has worked before: I'm STAKING MYSELF OUT, making an irreversible public commitment: today I will spend a minimum of one hour on my novel revisions and a minimum of one hour on the project I've been putting off for a week. I know that once I get going, I'll go on longer than that on at least one of these items.
THEN: I will report at the end of the day in the comments on this post that I've done what I decided to do. And I will feel very good. In fact, I'm feeling less irascible already.
I invite you to join me and make a commitment of your own here, today or at any time. Remember that it doesn't have to be large to work. Some days I've gotten myself started by committing to a mere 5 minutes.
Since I'm self-employed I find this particularly unnerving. I have the feeling, right or wrong, that everything depends on my doing what I decide to do.
So I'm resorting to a SOLUTION that has worked before: I'm STAKING MYSELF OUT, making an irreversible public commitment: today I will spend a minimum of one hour on my novel revisions and a minimum of one hour on the project I've been putting off for a week. I know that once I get going, I'll go on longer than that on at least one of these items.
THEN: I will report at the end of the day in the comments on this post that I've done what I decided to do. And I will feel very good. In fact, I'm feeling less irascible already.
I invite you to join me and make a commitment of your own here, today or at any time. Remember that it doesn't have to be large to work. Some days I've gotten myself started by committing to a mere 5 minutes.
Friday, November 18, 2005
My Writing Breakthrough
So I made my roughly annual visit to my psychotherapist, bringing what seemed to me an intractable writing problem.
THE PROBLEM: I didn't have a reliable sense of how many times I have to say things in a story to make them clear to most people. I'd write something that I felt hammered the reader over the head with the point. Yet not everybody got it. And I'm talking about people with good sense.
In no time, Nick Stratas (my doc) offered a plain and simple and effective solution. So simple it seemed like a no-brainer. And yet I, and later my writing group, were stunned by the power of it, and the fact that none of us had thought of it after 23 years of meeting, a stack of published books, several movie deals, a couple of stage adaptations, and decades of writing struggles.
EVOLUTION OF THE SOLUTION:
Nick: How long does it take you to figure out the point of one of your novels?
Peggy: One full draft.
Nick: And then you write that down and keep it in front of you while you write?
Peggy: No.
Nick: Why not?
Peggy: Because I know the point by then.
Nick: It takes you a full draft to discover it!!! This is preconscious material. It can slip away. That's why people keep a notebook beside their bed. I wake up with some wonderful idea and by the time I go to the bathroom, it's gone.
Peggy: (flooded with memories of times of re-remembering the point of a story, after not thinking of it for months) Oh. (pause) Yeah. (pause) You're right. (in wonderment) Jeez.
THE PUNCHLINE: Write down the embarrassingly simple idea that underlies the story. Keep it visible during writing times.
Turns out the problem hadn't been that I didn't know how to be clear; it was that I periodically forgot what I was talking about.
THE CHEEKINESS OF IT ALL: It takes confidence on the part of an advisor to make such a simple suggestion. A few years back I visited a notably astute psychic on my January birthday, a tradition I maintained for while. My annual question was: how do I make the most of what's going on for me in the next year? On one visit her answer was: eat more vegetables.
What a letdown. And how true. It would be easy to think that it's necessary to look good by saying something more complicated. It takes boldness to say the simple effective thing.
MY WRITING BREAKTHROUGH: Putting the idea in front of me is working. That's what it took to get fully clear.
THE PROBLEM: I didn't have a reliable sense of how many times I have to say things in a story to make them clear to most people. I'd write something that I felt hammered the reader over the head with the point. Yet not everybody got it. And I'm talking about people with good sense.
In no time, Nick Stratas (my doc) offered a plain and simple and effective solution. So simple it seemed like a no-brainer. And yet I, and later my writing group, were stunned by the power of it, and the fact that none of us had thought of it after 23 years of meeting, a stack of published books, several movie deals, a couple of stage adaptations, and decades of writing struggles.
EVOLUTION OF THE SOLUTION:
Nick: How long does it take you to figure out the point of one of your novels?
Peggy: One full draft.
Nick: And then you write that down and keep it in front of you while you write?
Peggy: No.
Nick: Why not?
Peggy: Because I know the point by then.
Nick: It takes you a full draft to discover it!!! This is preconscious material. It can slip away. That's why people keep a notebook beside their bed. I wake up with some wonderful idea and by the time I go to the bathroom, it's gone.
Peggy: (flooded with memories of times of re-remembering the point of a story, after not thinking of it for months) Oh. (pause) Yeah. (pause) You're right. (in wonderment) Jeez.
THE PUNCHLINE: Write down the embarrassingly simple idea that underlies the story. Keep it visible during writing times.
Turns out the problem hadn't been that I didn't know how to be clear; it was that I periodically forgot what I was talking about.
THE CHEEKINESS OF IT ALL: It takes confidence on the part of an advisor to make such a simple suggestion. A few years back I visited a notably astute psychic on my January birthday, a tradition I maintained for while. My annual question was: how do I make the most of what's going on for me in the next year? On one visit her answer was: eat more vegetables.
What a letdown. And how true. It would be easy to think that it's necessary to look good by saying something more complicated. It takes boldness to say the simple effective thing.
MY WRITING BREAKTHROUGH: Putting the idea in front of me is working. That's what it took to get fully clear.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Stay Loyal to Your Writing Passions
On a blog called Daytips for Writers I just ran across a reference to a Ray Bradbury book which jogged my memory of a chat with him on the QE2. Which led me to tell his story on that blog, and now to bring it back here. I'd like to make sure I NEVER FORGET it again.
I interviewed Bradbury when I was writing an article on writers at work on the ship's transatlantic crossing (Francis Ford Coppola was finishing a script on that same voyage.)
Bradbury told a story about staying true to our callings. He was saying that we need to stick with our passions, however odd they may seem to others. He told about being into some cartoon spaceman for years after he was considered too old for that kind of interest. Kids made fun of him and he went home and threw out his collection of Captain Whoever.
Then as an adult he tried to succeed as a writer of mainstream nonscifi fiction. Didn't work.
On a lark, he went back to his old interest, wrote a story about a dragon. Years later he picked up the phone. It was the director John Huston. He had run across the old story about the dragon, wanted Bradbury to write a script for him that had the same feel to it. The story was about a white whale. The movie Moby Dick turned out to be Bradbury's breakthrough. And all because he came back to the fantastical that was his love.
I interviewed Bradbury when I was writing an article on writers at work on the ship's transatlantic crossing (Francis Ford Coppola was finishing a script on that same voyage.)
Bradbury told a story about staying true to our callings. He was saying that we need to stick with our passions, however odd they may seem to others. He told about being into some cartoon spaceman for years after he was considered too old for that kind of interest. Kids made fun of him and he went home and threw out his collection of Captain Whoever.
Then as an adult he tried to succeed as a writer of mainstream nonscifi fiction. Didn't work.
On a lark, he went back to his old interest, wrote a story about a dragon. Years later he picked up the phone. It was the director John Huston. He had run across the old story about the dragon, wanted Bradbury to write a script for him that had the same feel to it. The story was about a white whale. The movie Moby Dick turned out to be Bradbury's breakthrough. And all because he came back to the fantastical that was his love.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
A Courage Tip: Nerve in the Curve
I don't remember where I came across the idea. I have a vague sense it was in the book LEARNED OPTIMISM by Martin Seligman (worth reading in any event.) But wherever it was, this idea I now think of as NERVE IN THE CURVE.
It seems some study showed that the race drivers who won races were most often the ones who didn't slow down on the curves.
The way I translate that for myself as a writer is: don't back off from my strategy at times when things have gotten difficult. Just ride through those tough periods full steam, focused on what's up ahead, doing what I planned and giving that plan a full chance.
EXAMPLE: going ahead full-tilt finishing my novel SISTER INDIA though it took three months longer than I'd planned and put me into my line-of-credit (in debt) for a while. I did sell the novel, and I did come out okay with the bank.
There's always a point in a project when I start getting nervous about whether I should be putting as much time or money into it as I first planned. My knee-jerk impulse is to slow down. Sometimes it might be the right thing to do. Or it might be like slowing down the boat when you're pulling a water skier. The skier sinks. Withdrawing fuel from a project at a crucial moment can make that project sink.
So when things get a little scary, I remind myself: nerve in the curve, Peggy. It might make sense to back off, but it doesn't make sense to get wobbly just because I'm running into the predictable delays and risks and difficulties. It doesn't make sense to slow out of a reflexive fear.
I hope these mixed sports metaphors make sense. Tell me if I didn't quite get it across.
It seems some study showed that the race drivers who won races were most often the ones who didn't slow down on the curves.
The way I translate that for myself as a writer is: don't back off from my strategy at times when things have gotten difficult. Just ride through those tough periods full steam, focused on what's up ahead, doing what I planned and giving that plan a full chance.
EXAMPLE: going ahead full-tilt finishing my novel SISTER INDIA though it took three months longer than I'd planned and put me into my line-of-credit (in debt) for a while. I did sell the novel, and I did come out okay with the bank.
There's always a point in a project when I start getting nervous about whether I should be putting as much time or money into it as I first planned. My knee-jerk impulse is to slow down. Sometimes it might be the right thing to do. Or it might be like slowing down the boat when you're pulling a water skier. The skier sinks. Withdrawing fuel from a project at a crucial moment can make that project sink.
So when things get a little scary, I remind myself: nerve in the curve, Peggy. It might make sense to back off, but it doesn't make sense to get wobbly just because I'm running into the predictable delays and risks and difficulties. It doesn't make sense to slow out of a reflexive fear.
I hope these mixed sports metaphors make sense. Tell me if I didn't quite get it across.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Short Bursts of Writing
It's late on a Friday--been working on revising my novel COBALT BLUE. I found that I could work for only about 15 minutes before getting antsy and nervous. (The changes I'm making are small but BOLD) Some of the time it was abougt 3 minutes.
My jumpiness felt rather discouraging; it gave me the feeling that I wasn't going to get anything done today. Wrong--I got a lot done.
MY METHOD: I quit about every time I felt like it. Then went back to work 5 or 10 minutes later. It took me about 5 hours to do about 3 and a half hours worth of writing. And toward the end of the afternoon, I was starting to be able to stay with it longer.
I consider this approach a variation of the LOWERED EXPECTATIONS approach, essentially it's to do what I can. I'm happy with the way it turned out this time.
I don't think I was evading any subject matter by quitting so often. But next round I think I'm going to experiment and explore that possibility.
My jumpiness felt rather discouraging; it gave me the feeling that I wasn't going to get anything done today. Wrong--I got a lot done.
MY METHOD: I quit about every time I felt like it. Then went back to work 5 or 10 minutes later. It took me about 5 hours to do about 3 and a half hours worth of writing. And toward the end of the afternoon, I was starting to be able to stay with it longer.
I consider this approach a variation of the LOWERED EXPECTATIONS approach, essentially it's to do what I can. I'm happy with the way it turned out this time.
I don't think I was evading any subject matter by quitting so often. But next round I think I'm going to experiment and explore that possibility.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Why I Write Spooky, Literary, Metaphysical Fiction
I used to be a newspaper and TV reporter, covered politics and school boards, one motorcycle gang shootout, a few fish kills, a lot of other odd occurrences. Then as a travel writer for magazines and newspapers, I tended to accidentally turn up wherever events were about to explode: in Israel for a war with Lebanon, in India in a city where riots broke out, in Poland in time for the second round of Solidarity strikes.
As a novelist, I still fancy myself a reporter of sorts. I'm interested in "things unseen," the shapes and stirrings in our deepest recesses, in mystical experiences of the divine, in the paranormal and the barely conceivable.
MY METHODS: I meditate, though not very much
I write a fast see-what's-there chunk of story
I revise to develop-what's-there
I get feedback from the writing group/class I've been a member of for
22 years
I do more exploratory drafts and more polishing drafts
Maybe get more feedback
And all the while I count on what floats up into my consciousness, the
unexpected connections and images
GETTING THE DEEP IMAGES:
The surprise thoughts rise to my mind usually after two things have
happened: I've prepared the ground by writing about whatever it
is I'm currently most drawn to, and then I've taken a break and done
something physical like exercise, taking a shower, sleeping, raking.
EXAMPLE: In the case of the the novel I'm working on now, COBALT BLUE, the deep connection came to me while I was doing something rather quietly
physical: sitting out on my porch with Bob on a summer night,
thinking about nothing but the slight stirring of the damp air.
What came to my mind on that porch was the phrase: "it's kundalini." I
knew that the "it's" referred to the major event in my novel. In COBALT BLUE, the main character Andie has a sudden mysterious inner rush, followed by a blast of creativity as well as some rather extreme sexual episodes.
There were psychological reasons for this of course. But then this word
that I didn't know the meaning of showed up. I had overheard it
once but didn't know what it meant.
Kundalini, I learned, is a concept of unused life
force stored in every person. When the kundalini
spontaneously "rises wrong" a person can get more than they can
handle. The word is Sanskrit, but the idea exists in the history of
many religions.
I felt the idea slide into the story as if the story had been built
for it in every detail.
So I think of myself as a reporter, doing a sort of reconnaissance. I'm watching for what shows up and,in my way, reporting it. I want to know what's there.
As a novelist, I still fancy myself a reporter of sorts. I'm interested in "things unseen," the shapes and stirrings in our deepest recesses, in mystical experiences of the divine, in the paranormal and the barely conceivable.
MY METHODS: I meditate, though not very much
I write a fast see-what's-there chunk of story
I revise to develop-what's-there
I get feedback from the writing group/class I've been a member of for
22 years
I do more exploratory drafts and more polishing drafts
Maybe get more feedback
And all the while I count on what floats up into my consciousness, the
unexpected connections and images
GETTING THE DEEP IMAGES:
The surprise thoughts rise to my mind usually after two things have
happened: I've prepared the ground by writing about whatever it
is I'm currently most drawn to, and then I've taken a break and done
something physical like exercise, taking a shower, sleeping, raking.
EXAMPLE: In the case of the the novel I'm working on now, COBALT BLUE, the deep connection came to me while I was doing something rather quietly
physical: sitting out on my porch with Bob on a summer night,
thinking about nothing but the slight stirring of the damp air.
What came to my mind on that porch was the phrase: "it's kundalini." I
knew that the "it's" referred to the major event in my novel. In COBALT BLUE, the main character Andie has a sudden mysterious inner rush, followed by a blast of creativity as well as some rather extreme sexual episodes.
There were psychological reasons for this of course. But then this word
that I didn't know the meaning of showed up. I had overheard it
once but didn't know what it meant.
Kundalini, I learned, is a concept of unused life
force stored in every person. When the kundalini
spontaneously "rises wrong" a person can get more than they can
handle. The word is Sanskrit, but the idea exists in the history of
many religions.
I felt the idea slide into the story as if the story had been built
for it in every detail.
So I think of myself as a reporter, doing a sort of reconnaissance. I'm watching for what shows up and,in my way, reporting it. I want to know what's there.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Revising
Today I'm starting back into a novel I thought I'd finished writing. The last third of the book is set in New Orleans and I need to update for the effect of Katrina, and I want to clarify a couple of other things while I have it "opened up."
It's not as hard as it might sound; I know (pretty much) the changes I want to make. On the other hand, every change in a story seems to necessitate others. So this is not a small undertaking either.
THE OBSTACLES I DEAL WITH IN STARTING A REVISION:
the fear that I can't do it
the fear that I'll mess up what's already there
the weary feeling that I've already spent enough time in this story
the question: is it possible that "deep down" some part of me doesn't want to
be immediately clear and finish stories quickly, that I really want to be
"hard to get"
THE GREAT THING ABOUT STARTING A REVISION:
once I've begun I'm involved and excited again
I discover new things to explore
I know I'll get where I'm going eventually
And so the thing now is simply to take a deep breath and begin.
It's not as hard as it might sound; I know (pretty much) the changes I want to make. On the other hand, every change in a story seems to necessitate others. So this is not a small undertaking either.
THE OBSTACLES I DEAL WITH IN STARTING A REVISION:
the fear that I can't do it
the fear that I'll mess up what's already there
the weary feeling that I've already spent enough time in this story
the question: is it possible that "deep down" some part of me doesn't want to
be immediately clear and finish stories quickly, that I really want to be
"hard to get"
THE GREAT THING ABOUT STARTING A REVISION:
once I've begun I'm involved and excited again
I discover new things to explore
I know I'll get where I'm going eventually
And so the thing now is simply to take a deep breath and begin.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Strategy for Today
It's morning and I came into the office tired. I have four appointments (including a haircut) and so, perhaps fortunately, I can't flop onto the carpet. My plan for today is low expectations: do the stuff I've committed myself to and give myself lavish credit for getting anything at all done otherwise.
What I usually find when I do this is that I get perked up by the first person I see, and then find that the combination of that energy with the pleasurably lowered expectations frees up my thinking, allows me in the time available to get a bit more done than usual.
What I usually find when I do this is that I get perked up by the first person I see, and then find that the combination of that energy with the pleasurably lowered expectations frees up my thinking, allows me in the time available to get a bit more done than usual.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
An Oddly Satisfying Day
Bought some gizmos this morning to be able to tape a big-deal interview this afternoon on my cell phone.
Went with one of my brothers to the funeral of my mother's 94 year-old first cousin and had a thoroughly good time visiting with relatives.
Did the big-deal phone interview--with the great-grandniece of the woman whose biography I'm writing. Important because there are almost no relatives alive who know anything about her. Got a lot of good information and leads. I feel like such a sleuth, even more than during my many years writing for newspapers.
Opened the box from UPS containing my new laptop wireless computer. My current elephant of a machine is tottering. Still this is bold: buying new cutting-edge equipment that'll actually do what I need.
Pretty soon: off to my meditation group for the first time in a while.
And all of this without a twinge of hesitation, second-guessing of myself, or procrastination. That's what I mean by satisfying. Not a bad way to live. I'd like to figure out how to make a habit of it.
Went with one of my brothers to the funeral of my mother's 94 year-old first cousin and had a thoroughly good time visiting with relatives.
Did the big-deal phone interview--with the great-grandniece of the woman whose biography I'm writing. Important because there are almost no relatives alive who know anything about her. Got a lot of good information and leads. I feel like such a sleuth, even more than during my many years writing for newspapers.
Opened the box from UPS containing my new laptop wireless computer. My current elephant of a machine is tottering. Still this is bold: buying new cutting-edge equipment that'll actually do what I need.
Pretty soon: off to my meditation group for the first time in a while.
And all of this without a twinge of hesitation, second-guessing of myself, or procrastination. That's what I mean by satisfying. Not a bad way to live. I'd like to figure out how to make a habit of it.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Why Life is Like French Toast?
I just ran across a charming site/blog by a visual artist: Frenchtoastgirl.com. It was featured in the April issue of Artist's Sketchbook Magazine, very appropriately, in the Inspiration section. It's whimsical in a way that's catching.
This Trick Worked
...or maybe it was simply the passage of time. In any event, my work jitters have eased off. I tried yet another of my collection of gambits: cleaning out closets while listening to motivational tapes. This is one of my things-to-do when I get in a sticky place about writing. One of them always works for me eventually.
So today I am so free of inner clutter that the tasks of the day are mere trifles. I have fuel and sparkle to spare. It's a more-than-nice feeling. Pretty day here too.
So today I am so free of inner clutter that the tasks of the day are mere trifles. I have fuel and sparkle to spare. It's a more-than-nice feeling. Pretty day here too.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Free Weekly Courage Counseling
Yesterday I discovered "Purple Fridays," and found that afterwards I worked better and felt perkier the rest of the day.
What this is: the website called Courage Lender (click on the title in my link list) is by a coach, Amanda Murphy, who offers a free group session by phone most Fridays at 1 p.m. Eastern time. It's aimed at helping participants keep up the courage to do bold things, and Murphy's specialty, or one of them, is self-employed professionals. You can join in the hour-long phone session as many Fridays as you want at no charge.
I dialed in for the first time yesterday. There were four or five of us on the call, all of us concerned with issues in our idiosyncratic one-person businesses.
What was helpful was the way the hour helped me to stop fighting my fears, at least for a few hours, and thus have that much extra energy available. It was just a matter of agreeing to coexist with fear, and that took a lot of the power out of it.
I highly recommend giving this one hour thing a try. All it cost me was my cell minutes. And an hour that, in the mood I was in, I'd likely have wasted a lot of anyway.
What this is: the website called Courage Lender (click on the title in my link list) is by a coach, Amanda Murphy, who offers a free group session by phone most Fridays at 1 p.m. Eastern time. It's aimed at helping participants keep up the courage to do bold things, and Murphy's specialty, or one of them, is self-employed professionals. You can join in the hour-long phone session as many Fridays as you want at no charge.
I dialed in for the first time yesterday. There were four or five of us on the call, all of us concerned with issues in our idiosyncratic one-person businesses.
What was helpful was the way the hour helped me to stop fighting my fears, at least for a few hours, and thus have that much extra energy available. It was just a matter of agreeing to coexist with fear, and that took a lot of the power out of it.
I highly recommend giving this one hour thing a try. All it cost me was my cell minutes. And an hour that, in the mood I was in, I'd likely have wasted a lot of anyway.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Stamina
Just as important as boldness in creativity is the ability to be bold again the next day and the next. I've been a freelance writer since 1972. It's the only way I can imagine living. Yet periodically--for instance, now-- I feel a wavering in the ability to "do it again today." I suppose I could say "the hell with it for right now" and go out and play. But that's a little scary when the work is your day job. So I stay in the saddle.
I know why the wavering happens: it's when I've gone too long since the last burst of out-in-the-world feedback. Right now I'm waiting for two long-overdue phone calls. And that waiting is getting in my way.
Gandhi says we should do the work "and then step back." Don't look around for rewards. Let the focus be on the work alone. I can only do that for so long and then I start to fray.
What helps is refocusing on work. And the ability to do that once again is stamina. By now I have a million psychological tricks I play to keep that happening every day. Sometimes I have to try several. (Today I'm using this blog to get my frustrations off my chest.)
Finally, the process of living a boldly creative life is the ability to start again and start again. The same thing is true of meditation. When my mind wanders, I must kindly guide it back to the moment. The kindness is key. So I'm trying to speak nicely to myself about being so frustrated and give myself credit for getting to work again.
I know why the wavering happens: it's when I've gone too long since the last burst of out-in-the-world feedback. Right now I'm waiting for two long-overdue phone calls. And that waiting is getting in my way.
Gandhi says we should do the work "and then step back." Don't look around for rewards. Let the focus be on the work alone. I can only do that for so long and then I start to fray.
What helps is refocusing on work. And the ability to do that once again is stamina. By now I have a million psychological tricks I play to keep that happening every day. Sometimes I have to try several. (Today I'm using this blog to get my frustrations off my chest.)
Finally, the process of living a boldly creative life is the ability to start again and start again. The same thing is true of meditation. When my mind wanders, I must kindly guide it back to the moment. The kindness is key. So I'm trying to speak nicely to myself about being so frustrated and give myself credit for getting to work again.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Why I (Sometimes) Indulge in "Negative Thinking"
Natasha--of the Daring Female blog--offers bold advice to counter the dismal "publish and perish" view of the publication experience described this week in the NY Times Book Review.
In a comment posted here yesterday she urges us to remember we need to get better results by doing our own publicity, on-line and otherwise. I agree. I paddle my particular canoe as hard as I can.
Both the optimism and the writer's publicity campaign are necessary, crucial. Publicity is what most published writers spend a great deal of time doing these days.
And I'm convinced that my setting my own course and persisting are the route to the largest success. I believe that most of the time. I build my life around the idea.
Yet I also find that it helps in low moments (I'm feeling pretty frustrated just lately) to remember that what I'm trying to do is difficult, that a lot of the world will tell you it's impossible. When I factor the huge challenge into the equation, then I have more stamina and more pleasure, greater ability to stay bold through the long roller coaster ride of writing and selling novels.
In a comment posted here yesterday she urges us to remember we need to get better results by doing our own publicity, on-line and otherwise. I agree. I paddle my particular canoe as hard as I can.
Both the optimism and the writer's publicity campaign are necessary, crucial. Publicity is what most published writers spend a great deal of time doing these days.
And I'm convinced that my setting my own course and persisting are the route to the largest success. I believe that most of the time. I build my life around the idea.
Yet I also find that it helps in low moments (I'm feeling pretty frustrated just lately) to remember that what I'm trying to do is difficult, that a lot of the world will tell you it's impossible. When I factor the huge challenge into the equation, then I have more stamina and more pleasure, greater ability to stay bold through the long roller coaster ride of writing and selling novels.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Publish and Perish?
There's a dreadfully on-target essay in the just-released NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW that captures the typical experience of having a book come out. It's at www. nytimes.com/2005/10/23/books/review/23royte.html. (Sorry I haven't yet figured out how to make a neat little click out of that.) It offers details that made me cringe with recognition: the period called The Big Suck-up, in which the author sends flowers and candy to her publicist, for example.
The piece even included The Honeymoon and the moments of boundless hope and euphoria. And yet...the bottom line was what the author called "self-induced misery."
And yet...how we all crave to do it again--and immediately. This minute!!! And don't try to get in my way!!!
The piece even included The Honeymoon and the moments of boundless hope and euphoria. And yet...the bottom line was what the author called "self-induced misery."
And yet...how we all crave to do it again--and immediately. This minute!!! And don't try to get in my way!!!
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Sister India
Sure, SISTER INDIA is the title of one of my novels. At the same time, for me, the phrase "Sister India," refers to an anxiety-reducing idea: the way that the sensory can stop time.
Here's how I came to have this thought. A few years ago I was asked to write an essay for an anthology about the most-something-or-other book or books I'd ever read. For example, the most stirring, or the most revealing, or the most exciting...book I'd ever read.
I decided to write on the most seductive books I'd ever read: which are novels set in India. The reason was that they're almost all so sensory, so full of the color and sound and smell and feel of moment after moment.
That sensory detail creates a sharp focus on the present moment that is the heart of all concentration and focus and ease in action. These novels, with their physicality, stop time for me, relax me, give a pause to my obsessing.
This is not to romanticize India as a laidback place. From what I've seen, it isn't. And the novels don't present that--not the good ones. India is the most actively business-minded place I've ever been. That was true in the early 90s when I spent a winter in Varanasi. Since then, of course, India has liberalized its laws on foreign investment and started handling work for many American corporations, becoming a major economic force in the world.
Even so, those novels, no matter the subject, have a quality that is like a soothing and spirit-lifting companion.
At a bookstore appearance in the U.S. shortly after this novel of mine came out, a man asked me to inscribe a book to his wife. He said she read novels about India for therapy. That might sound odd. But I understood.
Here's how I came to have this thought. A few years ago I was asked to write an essay for an anthology about the most-something-or-other book or books I'd ever read. For example, the most stirring, or the most revealing, or the most exciting...book I'd ever read.
I decided to write on the most seductive books I'd ever read: which are novels set in India. The reason was that they're almost all so sensory, so full of the color and sound and smell and feel of moment after moment.
That sensory detail creates a sharp focus on the present moment that is the heart of all concentration and focus and ease in action. These novels, with their physicality, stop time for me, relax me, give a pause to my obsessing.
This is not to romanticize India as a laidback place. From what I've seen, it isn't. And the novels don't present that--not the good ones. India is the most actively business-minded place I've ever been. That was true in the early 90s when I spent a winter in Varanasi. Since then, of course, India has liberalized its laws on foreign investment and started handling work for many American corporations, becoming a major economic force in the world.
Even so, those novels, no matter the subject, have a quality that is like a soothing and spirit-lifting companion.
At a bookstore appearance in the U.S. shortly after this novel of mine came out, a man asked me to inscribe a book to his wife. He said she read novels about India for therapy. That might sound odd. But I understood.
The Courage to Create a Revolution
As you no doubt know, Rosa Parks died last night. When she refused to give up her seat on the bus, life in the United States changed for the better for all the generations to come.
Her radical act was not planned and orchestrated. She didn't strain to work up her courage, or gather an army of support. Instead she performed a simple, quiet act that turned a great wrong on its head.
That's boldness. Makes me wonder what small reflexive routine I could vary today that would set something good in motion.
Her radical act was not planned and orchestrated. She didn't strain to work up her courage, or gather an army of support. Instead she performed a simple, quiet act that turned a great wrong on its head.
That's boldness. Makes me wonder what small reflexive routine I could vary today that would set something good in motion.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Underachieving Writer
I considered several alternate titles for this post, including "The Pressure to Produce." In my case, and in the case of most fiction writers, the pressure is largely internal. And fierce.
Last night I was reading Reynolds Price's latest novel THE GOOD PRIEST'S SON. I noted once again that Reynolds has published something on the order of 50 books. I wiped the exact figure from my mind.
I envy such productivity.
I hold no grudge against the success of others. In fact it's a pleasure that inevitably gives me hope. But output--that's a different matter.
Then too, out-in-the-world reception of my books is not directly in my control. Productivity is. Or so I nag at myself.
I try to tell myself that my currently unbudging slower pace is part of some divine natural order. Plants grow at different rates, and all that. The argument works some of the time.
If I felt I was giving writing books my 100% best effort every day, then I think I'd be satisfied. But who does that? Quite a few writers, I imagine. Not me. I procrastinate part of almost every day. I do get to the work. But what of those hours of desk-puttering? I wonder what my life and my work would look like if I focused all day. Maybe better, maybe worse. I don't know that I'll ever know.
Last night I was reading Reynolds Price's latest novel THE GOOD PRIEST'S SON. I noted once again that Reynolds has published something on the order of 50 books. I wiped the exact figure from my mind.
I envy such productivity.
I hold no grudge against the success of others. In fact it's a pleasure that inevitably gives me hope. But output--that's a different matter.
Then too, out-in-the-world reception of my books is not directly in my control. Productivity is. Or so I nag at myself.
I try to tell myself that my currently unbudging slower pace is part of some divine natural order. Plants grow at different rates, and all that. The argument works some of the time.
If I felt I was giving writing books my 100% best effort every day, then I think I'd be satisfied. But who does that? Quite a few writers, I imagine. Not me. I procrastinate part of almost every day. I do get to the work. But what of those hours of desk-puttering? I wonder what my life and my work would look like if I focused all day. Maybe better, maybe worse. I don't know that I'll ever know.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
The Axles of my Fiction
Well, my computer is running today. But two axles on my car are falling apart and my voice mail isn't answering except when it feels like it. Most tediously , my writing group this afternoon offered a barrage of criticism on the structure of a story I'm working on. Unquestionably helpful, but tiring. I'd kind-a thought I was close to the last draft of this one.
The problems they noted are the large, persistent kind: characterological. They have to do with my very soul and are the same problems I have to solve again on every novel or piece of fiction or story of any sort that I write. The most important one is over-subtlety.
The first one is the hardest. I always think I've made the point, the action, and the characters so rampagingly clear as to be garish. Yet, the most discerning of my readers frequently miss major points on the first umpteen drafts.
So now I've got to go back to these same pages and get more overt, more underlined, more garishly obvious about what's going on between these people in the story. I thought I was already in-your-face. Apparently I need to go into the reader's inner ear with my message.
Well, this matter is fixable, like the axles on my car. And in the case of the story, I can do it myself instead of taking it to a mechanic. But jeez, when do I get to move on? One day I'd like to write something that came out clear in under ten drafts.
The problems they noted are the large, persistent kind: characterological. They have to do with my very soul and are the same problems I have to solve again on every novel or piece of fiction or story of any sort that I write. The most important one is over-subtlety.
The first one is the hardest. I always think I've made the point, the action, and the characters so rampagingly clear as to be garish. Yet, the most discerning of my readers frequently miss major points on the first umpteen drafts.
So now I've got to go back to these same pages and get more overt, more underlined, more garishly obvious about what's going on between these people in the story. I thought I was already in-your-face. Apparently I need to go into the reader's inner ear with my message.
Well, this matter is fixable, like the axles on my car. And in the case of the story, I can do it myself instead of taking it to a mechanic. But jeez, when do I get to move on? One day I'd like to write something that came out clear in under ten drafts.
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