WordSisters

Category: Writing

  • Where Are You Most Creative?

    Some writers may be able to write anywhere—but I’m not one of them. I have a few key requirements:

    I need to be assured that I’ll be left alone for a while.  If the house is full of family who might pop in at any time with a question or request, I have trouble focusing on the scene in my head that I’m already struggling to envision. I’m easily distracted and soon I’ll wonder about whatever I was asked—if they’re going to Target, will they remember to buy milk? Equally distracting is the peevishness I’m likely to feel—really? Can’t I even be left alone for an hour? That’s why writing before everyone is awake often works or writing when my husband is the only one in the house.

    The place doesn’t need to be perfectly quiet, but I can’t listen to music.  It’s too interesting and soon I can’t hear the words inside my head. Ambient noise is OK, though. The dull roar of a coffee shop is fine. The sound of my husband practicing guitar doesn’t bother me. People laughing or kids squabbling in the distance barely register.

    Physical comfort matters. If I feel a chilly draft or sweat trickles down my back, I’ll lose concentration. Similarly, if my chair is uncomfortable, a niggling twinge will gradually become an insistent backache. At that point, I’m done.

    But aside from these basic features, some places simply have a better vibe than others. Some times it’s history. If I’ve written well and easily one place, I’m apt to go back to it. And usually there’s some appealing quality of light—bright daylight that energizes and cheers me or cozy lamplight surrounds and comforts me.

    I’ve returned again and again to these places:

    P1030545Lebanon Hills Park, 15 minutes from home – Halfway down the hill overlooking the lake, I set up the lawn chair that lives in my trunk during the warm months. I bring my laptop, a bottle of iced tea and a snack, and I’m set for a few hours. When I need to stare into space, the lake shimmers before me. Sunlight filters through the trees, and periodically as partial shade turns into full sun, I slide my chair out of the sun. I’ve written and revised large chunks of my memoir here.

    My bright back porch in warm weather and my sunny family room in cold months.

    Most coffee shops  . . . as long as I won’t run into anyone I know!

    Where does the muse find you?

  • The Loft Mentor Series: Navigating the River Together

    Mark Anthony Rolo
    Mark Anthony Rolo

    I had competed to be a Loft Mentor Series participant for many years, but now that I had been selected as a 2013-2014 Mentor Series Winner, a ‘so what’ attitude misted over me. I hate to even admit it because it sounds as if I didn’t care that I’d won. I did care. That’s why I paddled like heck against the wind and upstream to reach my destination. Now, that I had won, I pulled my paddles into the canoe, and drifted into the eddy.

    Winning hadn’t changed me. My circumstances hadn’t changed. And, I had no idea if I would change during the Mentor Series. Nothing was promised.

    All I knew is that I didn’t have to paddle anymore. That was unbelievable to me.

    A potluck would be my introduction into the Mentor Series. I didn’t know any of the winners personally and I knew only one of the mentors, Mary Rockcastle.

    Mary greeted the others and me as if she were an ambassador to the program. She has a knack for making a person feel good. If her gig as Hamline’s MFA writing program director doesn’t work out, she could be an emissary. She’s comfortable discussing a wide range of topics from colonoscopies to colloquiums. How can you not feel at home? Whatever nervousness I had in joining this potluck dissipated quickly.

    Mark Anthony Rolo, nonfiction mentor, and Vanessa Ramos, Loft program manager, were the last to arrive.

    Vanessa’s smile and effervescent personality is visceral. I was drawn toward her.

    Waiting for Mark was nerve wracking. He was the person I would be working with for a year. I had read his book, felt as if I knew his past, which wasn’t that different from mine. But what if I didn’t like him? Do you like every writer you meet?

    Mark isn’t hard to miss. He looks like his book jacket cover. He’s big. And, his dog is big.

    What is it that some people possess that as soon as they walk into a room you feel at ease? It is almost as if their energy is forging the way and their physical self comes after. Mark has that characteristic.

    Right away, I could tell Mark was accessible.

    Mark Anthony Rolo and Rock
    Mark Anthony Rolo and Rock

    He didn’t put on airs that he was different from anyone in the room, and he had done his homework. He knew what piece of writing belonged to each of us. I made a quick note to myself to get my paddles in the water because I was about to be left in the eddy while he and others traveled on. I hadn’t read anyone’s work.

    All of a sudden, I knew what the Mentor Series was about. It was about learning, supporting, and paddling to the next marker. People who could help me get there surrounded me. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t going against the wind. I wasn’t going upstream. Instead, I was embraced by other canoeists and we could navigate the river together.

  • Afraid of the Writing Workshop. Did It Anyway. Glad That I Did.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMadeline Island Writing Workshop, “How to Plan, Write, and Develop a Book: Taking You Book to Publication” Mary Carroll Moore.

    I had first met Mary Carroll Moore in November of 2012 for a 1 1/2 day writing workshop at the Loft Literary Center. A classroom full of writers of all genres explored their books and put together storyboards in pictures and writing. A storyboard is a graphic organizer displayed in sequence for the purpose of pre-visualizing your manuscript.

    After attending the 2012 workshop, I signed up for Mary’s week-long writing retreat on Madeline Island, September 2013.

    What sold me were the unexpected breakthroughs in how I viewed my book. I rearranged chapters, saw reoccurring images, and for the first time, realized what my manuscript wanted to say.

    Madeline Island School of Arts
    Madeline Island School of Arts

    I’m not an easy student. I approach learning in the classroom tentatively and cynically. I’m reluctant to try different styles, and at the same time, I’m also open to new ideas and feedback. Yes, competing principles. Drives me crazy, too, and I have to sit there and make myself focus on what is being taught.

    I was even opposed to attending Mary’s November 2012 workshop, but a writing friend said “No, it wouldn’t be right for you. You probably wouldn’t get anything out of the workshop. If she was me, she wouldn’t go.” So, I signed up. Don’t tell me that I can’t do something.

    Taking the road less traveled on the Island
    Taking the road less traveled on the Island

    A hunch, a notion, a feeling.  That becomes my next step or goal. The Universe speaks to me through repeated musings and I pay attention. I sent in my deposit to Madeline Island School of the Arts (MISA) for Mary’s September workshop without knowing how it was going to come about.

    Winning The Next Step Grant generated the funds, and a new job spawned the vacation week.

    When it came time to go Jody planned a family weekend for us at Edgewater Hotel in Duluth for my sendoff. Saturday the “What am I getting myself into?” thoughts started making an entrance. On Sunday, I admitted them to Jody.

    I was scared. I didn’t know Mary that well. I didn’t know if my writing would be as good as others. And, it would be dark at night.

    MISA
    MISA

    Even so, Jody and I drove in opposite directions on Sunday.

    My classmates on Madeline Island consisted of six other writers. The first evening we introduced ourselves and our manuscripts. I hate this part. My book has to come out of the closet, and state what it’s about.

    Classroom learning started the next day. I sat next to my nemesis. I learned that word in Tae Kwon Do because I have a few of them there, too. I always seem to find one no matter where I go.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis guy had an answer for everything. Since I sat next to him, I could literally feel his restraint as he stopped himself from monopolizing the discussion. I didn’t think he would get anything out of Mary’s class but it only took him a day or two to come around to Mary’s way of thinking. That was impressive, I thought, and it added cred to Mary’s teaching. If he found her teaching meaningful …. Good thing for him because he flew in from New Hampshire to take her class. Maybe it was because he was from tiny New Hampshire that he didn’t like all the space I took.

    Think of it, 9, 350 sq miles compared to 86, 943 sq miles. Move over Big Boy. Us Minnesotans need SPACE.

    In-between sparring with my rival, I did a lot of learning. The aha moments came fast and often. I worked to make them stick so I’d be able to recall them after I returned home.

    When Mary teaches, material makes sense, concepts fizz with possibility.

    Her balance of classroom time to personal writing time is excellent. Having a solid week to work with a storyboard that constantly changes is refreshing.

    Writing Prompts
    Writing Prompts

    It could have been the ferry ride, the remoteness, or the magic of Madeline Island School of the Arts (MISA), that allowed my manuscript to become my essence for one week.

    And when darkness came, as it did every night, I picked up the phone and called home.

    At weeks end, before I even drove my car on the ferry, I began to imagine my return in 2014 and taking my seat next to know-it-all guy, and fashioning a border with my writing prompts.