Perfect for the Holidays: “The Storyteller”
Web Log 2012. Thanksgiving:
Norman Rockwell’s “The Storyteller” (scanned here from a Knowles China Company collectible plate) first appeared in 1925 in Literary Digest magazine. It portrays a girl and her grandfather’s involvement in a shared reading hour that had undoubtedly become an anticipated pleasure to both over her short years. With closer study, this painting can become so many stories on its own.
The volumes missing from the bookshelf appear to have been searched and strewn around the grouping. Is this a pleasure reading or a lesson? Are the books part of an Encyclopedia being used to clarify points in the story (as suggested in the notes accompanying the plate), or of a specially bound collection of great literature? Is this a holiday visit or an everyday occurrence? Who chose the day’s story? What did the little dog sense in the man’s voice and gestures to stop him in the middle of a dog’s adventures? How many children call this man their Storyteller? Is he in fact reading, or does he make up a story as he goes along? Have you experienced the joy of finding yourself totally immersed in a storytelling hour and found the child equally enthralled? (Sorry. OCD/ADD alert)
All good and appropriate questions at holiday time, but not the purpose of this post. I was blessed with the gift of this plate many years ago from a close schoolmate and friend (Louise) who grew into a sister for life. She has always been one of my biggest fans, supportive and encouraging in all my many adventures. I was thrilled to receive a gift of the Storyteller, knowing she carefully picked it out as a representation of my life and ambitions: the title, the little dog and the adult loving the moment with a related child. It has been joyfully cherished over the years … from a safe distance.
Each time I opened its protective box to admire it, I considered where I might display it. Each time I decided my life was too chaotic; my décor didn’t match; there was no safe place for it outside the shipping box. I am in the process of hanging it in the living room now, for the holidays. I realized as I placed it in a plate-hanger my real reason for not displaying it over the years was: (drum-roll please) I secretly felt I had not earned it. My writing had been like my life, chaotic, messy, unsafe, often disastrous and unsettled. In the last three years, I finally grew up (fireworks here please). I now call myself a Writer! I have books completed and awaiting an editor and publisher. I acknowledge that copywriting is authentically a form of writing, and I’m good at it. I have a voice.
I also know that other writers have been brave enough to write about the hesitancy we display to call ourselves Writers. That’s important and greatly appreciated. We Are Not Alone, or WANA, as Kristen Lamb, author of the #1 best-selling books We Are Not Alone—The Writer’s Guide to Social Media and Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Writer calls her supportive organization. It seems most writers feel the same lack of credentialed label as they develop. If you write, you are a Writer. You may be unpublished. Your books may be “in different stages of development” (one of my personal favorites), or you may be “dabbling in different genres and media, finding your voice, rhythm and specialty.”
If you create in any of the fine arts, give yourself a gift this Christmas: Call yourself out. If you can’t say it straight out, tell people you ______ (insert appropriate word – write, paint, compose) in your free time. It is a part of you, and defines a large part of your soul, personality and brain. Personally, I’m a Writer and Storyteller!
PS: Sorry for the light stre
ak in the scan of the color plate. The black&white was scanned from the plate’s insert with thanks to the Edwin M. Knowles China Company ©1983.
PPS: Love and Thanksgiving for Louise (& Happy Birthday in 12 days!), and for all of my Family!
Web Log 2012.10.10:
#Writers: Choose How to Use Your Time
There’s just so much of that commodity to go around. You use it or lose it, so be sure you decide how to fill it.
● 00:41:38 Admiral, we’re losing precious time. –Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)
● 01:24:41 If, without losing time on advertising, they can concentrate on manuscripts.
– Cassandra’s Dream (2007)
● Work is hard. Distractions are plentiful. And time is short. –Adam Hochschild
● 00:23:32 We’re out of time! He’s losing oxygen, he needs to be intubated now! – Scrubs (2001)
After a year of studying the craft, I spent the better part of two years assembling the bones of three novels. It seemed logical to start looking for an agent as I started editing book #1. What happened in those three years? The industry got turned upside down. So I began a new study: Publishing in the second decade of the 21st century. First and foremost, you must have a platform to market yourself and your work.
The last 3+ months were spent – enjoyably, I must admit – reading helpful blogs and training how-to’s; studying the intricacies of Twitter; tripping over WordPress as I tried to start a blog of my own, taking social media marketing webinars and discovering that I have a Klout and Kred score (albeit not an impressive one). Oh yes, and I got lost.
The last time I got lost in cyberspace, it was because a ‘good friend’ hooked me up with Facebook and their nasty, addictive games. I would work ’til 10pm, then come home to farm and cook until the sky was quickening toward dawn. I finally stripped my crops, hung a “gone writing” sign on my cafe, and turned over my medieval kingdom to an eager competitor. I don’t know what happened to my fish tank (ick!).
This time it was Twitter. Now I see others calling it “the black vortex” and other scary names, but last summer I had no idea Twitter was so addicting, so demanding. It grows by itself, so you want to feed it, care for it; and every new tweet contains a world you’ve never explored before. It is the best of the global internet in an organized box, like expensive candy being presented to you by new friends you chose to follow. Who can resist that? Or the fact that it is a social/political/commercial revolution in the making.
A couple of weeks ago I received a link to an article warning us to protect our most precious commodity: time. It suggested that if we had created our platform as advised, used our Gravatar, we should Google ourselves. If we have a presence, it’s time to get back to work. {Gulp!} Well, that made sense, so I did. And I DID! I celebrated, I danced with the dogs, we ran around the house barking (we have a strange and wonderful friendship).
Then I got depressed for two reasons:
1. Time to cut back on Twitter (and the new Facebook games My Vegas and Slotomania); and
2. I don’t have a finished book to market on my new author’s platform yet.
Rats! What good is this second childhood if I still have to act like a grownup?
Everyone’s busy; no one has enough time to do it all. The secret to life is negotiation + moderation. Even if you’re uber organized, time has a way of doing its own thing. Negotiate for time, negotiate with time, negotiate for help, negotiate with yourself. Hell, I even negotiate with the dogs. (Yesterday, I ordered Jiggy to go outside to tell Kipper to stop barking. I was tweeting. He did!).
After negotiating for help, set up a schedule that includes everything! Even if everything only gets an hour each, it’s moving forward, growing. You take it off your worry list. And if you finish a task early, give the time to something that’s dragging behind.
Last of all, save the last hour of the day for reading, with TV and computer off. You’ll feel and sleep better, especially if it’s before dawn. And if sleep is eluding you, there’s always Slotomania …
Web Log 2012.9.13: 10 Reasons Why Writers Love Dogs
My Jiggy, 13 years old
These are just my thoughts, scattered and humble as they are. But hear me out … you just might agree with me.
Writers are a special breed. Pair them with a dog or two and magic often happens. I think there are a number of reasons why writers especially are dog lovers. Here’s my list:
- Dogs listen to every word you say, hanging on to the plot even if it’s the third time you’ve read it to them.
- A dog can sense the goodness in you, even when you are writing about evil or horror or crime.
- When you speak, animals only hear you, ignoring all the other voices shouting in your head.
- When you practice speaking like one of your more colorful characters, your dogs think it’s playtime. (It is!)
- Dogs love adventure. I just say “bye-bye in the car” and there’s a stampede to the garage door.
- When the weather is nice, my dogs take me on treasure hunts through the park and on the desert floor that can last for hours. We always find a new narrative thread.
- When you adopt, you can conjure up a different story about your dog’s past each time you observe new behavior.
- I learned the importance of fitting playtime into my day from many dogs. Computers need a break too, and acting nuts is healthy. Ask any Jack Russell Terrier.
- My dogs have taught me how to age gracefully and love unconditionally.
- I have seen a good life end quietly after a run & play session. Happy, wagging tail one minute … sleeping forever the next. That’s the way I want to go.
Anyone want to add their own reasons?
Dedicated to all our companion animals waiting for us near the Rainbow Bridge.
Web Log 2012.9.6: Home Sick on Labor Day
Nearly eight years ago I traded the NY/NJ/CT tri-state area for the Cal/Nev/Ari tri-state area. I needed a job; I needed space and I needed a new start. I had visited friends in Las Vegas often enough to know I could find all three requirements there.
This eight-year happy Nevadan decided to treasure and hoard all three days of the 2012 Labor Day weekend for herself and her 13-year-old ‘puppies’. Just the three of us with almost nothing to do. Time stretching out ad infinitum to fill like kids out of school for a summer vacay replay. Haven’t you always wanted to do that again? Just once?
Well don’t even try it! Get it right out of your head. You’re not a kid anymore. Your parents won’t tell you it’s a bad idea; that everything you decide to do will backfire. TV? All repeats of the only four shows you watched all season. Catch up on phone calls and gossip? Nobody’s home. It’s Labor Day, dummy. They’re out having fun or shopping. Until you start a movie on one of the premium channels, then you get back-to-back phone calls for two hours.
Those adorable little puppies? They must have taken possession of the training manual for exes, because I swear one of them had moved back in. They were whiny, demanding, hungry, sleepy, sneezy – all seven of those dwarfs – when not barking at every man, woman, dog, motorcycle, and child (on bike or wagon or stroller) that traveled past my house. Excuse me, their house. I decided to get them out of that house, go to the park and take a walk. It couldn’t be more than 110 degrees in Las Vegas, could it? But there’s lots of shade trees and grass. Yes, and every family with a minimum of four children in a three-mile radius had taken their own refuge in the park, along with their family’s pit bull and rottie, off-leash of course while I’m walking two little Napoleons (saving that for a later post rant).
Flash to the Monday morning last day of holiday weekend. There I am working my Twitter/Facebook accounts; putting together a Sauder three-shelf bookcase; cooking up supplemental snacks for the boys and cleaning out the pile of books, newspapers, to-be-filed, and other assorted trivia I’ve picked up over the last few months (read years). The dogs are much happier when I’m working at something. They’ve chosen their favorite nap stations around me (work makes them tired).
And me? My summer vacay replay? I actually had it shortened into a two-hour frolic down memory lane that ended in tears of happy memories. I keep a basket on the end of my dresser where I toss greeting cards I receive that strike a chord. The chord sometimes sounds funny, heart-warming, reminiscent – whatever it is, I save it ’til I think I’m ready to part with the card. By the time I got through 2008 birthday and surgery get-well cards from family, friends and treasured former co-workers, I was dribbling tears and giggles. I put their rubber bands back on, shoved them back in the basket.
Here’s my thinking, kids. You get homesick for more than home, more than a place, more than family. You get homesick for relationships; a certain period in your life, having it all together for a brief shining moment in the Camelot of your life (there aren’t many of those, trust me). So while I got sick at home from frustration, I ended up happily homesick at home as well, reliving those warm and loving acknowledgments from the past. They went back in the basket, too precious still.
POSTSCRIPT: If you’ve never seen the film “Camelot” with Richard Harris and Vanessa Redgrave, find it and view it. Major classic, and the Arthurian Legend never grows old. Adapted from the T. H. White novel The Once and Future King, also well worth reading, it makes you laugh. cheer and cry. Get over the fact it’s a musical. Then find the soundtrack at your library (yes, your library can still help you), but get the soundtrack from the Broadway production, starring Richard Burton and Julie Andrews. Nothing better than Richard Burton talking his way through the Camelot theme song, (
) watch ’til the end – it’s the best part! (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camelot_%28musical%29
) Read the background on Wiki.
Then come back and tell me what you thought. Could you give yourself over to the vision? Have you had a Camelot moment yet? Do you have a book/film of significance in your life?
Trip over any book ideas today, writer?
Or short story topics? Or blog posts you didn’t know you needed to write?
What Started This Rant:
A tweet sent me to Mashable Social Media’s Facebook page to see their featured “18 Facebook Users You Should Subscribe to” (sic). Their Number 4 copy read: “New York Times tech columnist Nick Bilton keeps subscribers on top of his latest industry musings and adventures. For instance, did you know he recently had dinner with a robot?”
It’s the ‘What If‘s’ Stupid.
I read two more subscribe-to suggestions before the brain cells reached consciousness. Have dinner with a robot? What if I didn’t know my date was a robot? What if Nick Bilton didn’t know his date was a robot? What if he took her home? What if … Now I’ll let your imagination take over. (I am a sci-fi aficionado, as well as sometimes fantasy romance writer.)
This is my life. I’ve already taken notes on that one short sentence, and can imagine everything from a short story to a TV sitcom to a full-fledged sci-fi fantasy novel about a sales rep for a personal companion robot business. It’s stored away with all the other ideas I may or may not decide to write.
So Get to the Point!
My point being, don’t trip over the ideas, stumble, and continue clicking.
Yes, keep clicking, but not until you’ve logged the idea. I don’t care if it’s on your dirty lunch napkin, or in your iPhone. Acknowledge it. Go with it for just a few beats. See where it wants to go. Write or type it. That locks it in memory too, besides giving you a visual reminder you’ll stumble upon at some later date.
I’ve lost more blog post rants because I didn’t stop what I was doing at the time; so sure I was that I couldn’t lose such a brilliant idea. I hate to predict your future, but establishing good writing routines now will help you down the road. After you hit the big 40 mark – and you will – thoughts and ideas start to leap from your brain straight out your head, never to be imagined again. Others will replace it, but who knows which brilliant idea was destined to be your lifetime best. And you won’t sit staring at the wall trying to come up with an idea, wasting your writing time. You just have to choose one.
For more on writing ideas and everyday habits, go to
http://wilsonwritings.com
. Alex Wilson offers lots to see and read, but I can’t tell you what he visualized over a pair of woman’s stiletto heels!
Web Log 2012.8.21: A New Endeavor
English: An Entennmann’s cake donut, bought from a grocery store four-variety pack. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is not the Star Ship Enterprise, but it’s a sign that my direction is true and my ambition is ship-shape!
I’ve read article upon article about the necessity for new authors to develop a “platform” on-line; increase visibility; grow a following to assist potential agents and publishers in marketing the author and his or her epics. I get that, especially in this economy. Yet I’ve fought the requirement, reading the regret of other authors’ lost writing time while tending to their blogs.
For some reason this week I recognized my own personal Web Log is handing me a freebie: the great opportunity to develop the essayist within. All those letters I wrote only in my head, communicated only to my two companion dogs (and sometimes to a can of beans in the grocery store) would finally have their day in my blog! Writing the essay was an honorable pastime for 19th and 20th century writers, and a sensible way to keep the ink flowing through the brain in between projects, or while the current WIP slowly simmered. An essayist, hmm. I always loved James Thurber. He was a dog lover too.
It is quite possible that the often-cursed internet, combined with this push for writers’ platforms and interaction, is bringing about a renaissance in literary proliferation, circulation and collaboration. A huge on-line writers’ colony has developed a fraternity of training and encouragement, drilling newbies on story structure, character arcs and the dreaded cliché. I never learned this much as a college English major! (Okay, not entirely the college’s fault. I had other interests, shall we say.) Some of the published authors hold drawings offering free reading and comments on your WIP’s first two or three pages. For the uninitiated, that stands for your work-in-progress. I learned that in a blog, and looked it up in Wikipedia.
One thing I’ve lived and observed: writers crave publication at any cost. They must have their work read and, once again, the internet has provided another outlet for authors in self-publishing and e-books. Since so much of the old system’s opportunities have shrunk, I might publish my books on-line as well. Maybe even give away a couple of freebies.
Not so scary now that I’ve published my first blog post.
