Digressions

The following is a small digression from the norm found here. Why? I’m not sure. Perhaps it was needed more than I realized. Perhaps it was a truth that needed to be shared. Enjoy.

The Blessing

She sat behind her desk, fiddling with the ball point that should be gliding across decorative paper, staring out the window without seeing the scene beyond the pane of frosted glass. The day dragged on as it had since 8 am. Memories held her attention, drawing her back to people and places thirty years before and far away from this cold and dreary place; memories of those gone from this world though never far from daily thought.

Emotional upheaval caught at her throat as she pictured another holiday season, another room, another impending loss. Tears threatened to take permanent possession of her eyes even as swallowing became a challenge. How often did she have to relive those days and nights belonging to the past?

A moment, a day, a lifetime later, the woman turned away from the window to see where she’d left off on her annual Christmas letter to family and friends. In the center of the bright red, beribboned page she saw a portrait; an image she’d not seen smile in so very many years. The sudden appearance of that face broke her resolve to forego crying.

Her mother’s laughing, loving countenance required a release of the building tension that threatened to overtake her again this year.

Had her mother’s spirit found a way to visit long enough to reassure her of the rightness of things? Was this a message instructing her finally to let go? Or, was it merely a sign that her mother was happy where she was?

Did it matter what the exact message was so long as something positive came from it?

The woman found herself smiling at this gift that had been given to her. Whether her subconscious had doodled the portrait or some other means had put the beloved face on the page, the gift was gratefully accepted. She could go on now with the holiday that had become a burden to survive rather than a gift to appreciate and celebrate.

A slow smile began to spread across her face, her throat loosening its muscles and tear ducts turning off their leaks. The time had come to release the unshed grief. Blessings came in myriad packages, she realized.

Double Messages: Fences With Two Sides

Current philosophy regarding economics tells us that less is more. At a time when consumerism leans toward excess, in an environment of unemployment and, in some cases, hunger, the message at the edge of awareness tells us to cut back, tighten our belts, and hunker down until the economic crisis is past.

I’ve watched how others are dealing with this crisis, the messages sent to users from every quarter, the media blitz of advertising, etc. What I’ve seen leads me to believe that messages have blurred the edges of every realm of our lives.

Check me out and see if I’ way off base here. Are we doomed to live in a world of double messages?

1.     Conserve potable water: We’re urged to use more efficient dishwashers, etc. to utilize the least amount of water for effective purposes. Is that why lawn services, especially those in arid climates and drought stricken zones, have sprinklers systems blasting water into the dry air during the middle of the day? This is the worst possible time to water vegetation—it burns/boils the leaves and stems—and the least effective conservation practice. So, who's conserving?

2.     Keep as much out of the landfills in an effort to reduce future problems with ground water pollution, etc. For this to work, we’re encouraged to reduce/avoid use of disposable products like paper plates and diapers. We're encouraged to recycle more. Question: If we’re supposed to conserve water and can use paper plates to reduce water usage, aren’t we ignoring the landfill problem? And what about all of those defunct, yet fixable, appliances littering the landfill landscape?

3.     Auto manufacturers were ordered to make more efficient vehicles. Many 1970’s models, especially those from Japan, got better fuel mileage than the same models coming out this year. How is that efficient and less polluting? Remember, we’re supposed to support the U.S. manufacturers to help the economy.

These are a few examples of double dipping in the message department. Here’s one just for those active and potential writers out there.

Today’s experts in the publishing business have been emphasizing the use of tighter, more efficient writing. Remove those qualifiers, they say. Eliminate all of those adjectives and adverbs and shorten word count. Some editors frown on those who use more than a fifth grade education level of prose to write a story since it requires the reader to think beyond what’s being read.

When I began the writing course “Building Great Sentences,” I had no idea that what comprised those great sentences were not fewer words, but more words that told an effective story. It does counter popular business regimen.

Prof. Brooks Landon of the Univ. of Iowa reminds students of two millennium of memorable and effective writers who used longer and more complex sentences to tell their stories, build their treatises, and write their poetry. He points out that these complex sentences set the tone that helps create punch, surprise, or poignancy for the extremely short sentences that can follow them.

He uses many examples to prove his points and the course is designed to enlighten the student on how to build, one word at a time, the most effective sentence that not only moves the story forward, but which tells its own story within the overall frame work of the larger tale. He shows how one sentence can, in 40 words, give a complete picture of a character, a setting, the plot’s pivot point, etc.

There is no advocacy of irrelevant or unnecessary verbiage, but rather a use of cumulative sentences which act as mini-scenes, each behaving as a mover and shaker within the story. For the first time in years I’ve fallen in love again with language and its power.

In a time when I’m being told to shrink sentences, cut back, use vocabulary for children to talk to adults, I’ve come to appreciate rebellion and have a solid reason to engage in it, at least in this one area.

I no longer have to consign good language use to that word landfill residing within my desktop. I don't have to conserve more precise language for the sake of one person's belief in lesser grade words. I can get more mileage out of ten well-chosen words than a dozen sentences that circle the drain of contemporary writing practice.

I can control this piece of the double message question with my use of language and its place in the world. I don’t have to follow the path set for me by people who change literary tastes as easily as a butterfly moves to another flower’s nectar.

Ratings and sales don’t have to dictate how I function as a writer in this new digital age, except on the internet. Even that venue may come around to insisting on something mature for audiences. Regardless, I’m in a position where I can dictate my own terms within my portion of the industry, an industry which affords me the opportunity to stretch, express myself, and tell stories that can entertain.

I'm ringing this bull's tail regarding double messages and clearing a path for myself.

Tell me how you see our double message state and how you feel about using language. Short or long, we all have our favorites.

Until later,

Claudsy

Gems in Hidden Books

Every writer does research. Whether for non-fiction articles, books, or essays or for marketing that new story that’s hot off the keyboard, we delve into some esoteric corners on the off-chance of finding a gem that can be used as the centerpiece of some new project.

In the past year I’ve managed to dive into fascinating subjects with so much potential that I’m without direction as to the best use for the material.

For instance, there the global warming issue from both the environmental and the political viewpoints. Bits and pieces could be used for great articles with slants not expected by the average reader, or articles for children to help them derive an understanding of the issues involved, or as the basis for sci-fi stories extraordinaire.

Which way should I go? It’s not like the subject is going away soon. It’s around to stay and getting more complex each day, with plenty of twists along the way to create plotlines for sci-fi, YA survivalist faire, a murder mystery surrounding a leading scientist who’s discovered how to help halt the progression of the marching ice fields. You see what I mean.

How about those hidden gems that can be used for a character’s profession or hobby? Here’s one that brought me to a point of practicing an almost lost art: knots and splices.

What are they? Mariners and their land-grubbing laborer cousins have practiced tying knots and splicing ropes together for thousands of years. This was and is a practical knowledge that can be used for many purposes. My “Pocket Guide to Knots & Splices” by Des Pawson sits beside my copy of “Leather Braiding” by Bruce Grant.

You might ask why I’d have such disparate volumes on my reference shelf. I’ll tell you. In the first place, I thoroughly enjoy learning new skills. With each new knot or braiding technique practiced and mastered, I will have a concrete example of the craft involved.

Secondly, I can use this knowledge for any number of characters. I can have one of my mystery characters always craft a Turk knot on a gift package. The knot done in leather, for instance, acts as an additional gift for the receiver. This act of thoughtfulness becomes a trademark for that character. Or, I can write a short story about a fencer who’s just begun work with battle swords instead of epees and has to fashion the grip covering on the hilt of his newly acquired broadsword. It can be done in leather or in flat silk cording, as the Samurai once did. The very act of making that decision could make for a turning point for that particular character.

What if I had a character that made art with decorative knots that behaved as the anchoring point of her textile art that sold for thousands of dollars? Everything from Celtic knots to old sailors knots would work well for the story point.

I could do a character that makes bull whips for sale. Those use both leather braiding of a specialty type and special knotting.

Just these three subjects could keep a person busy with ideas for months or more. I often ask myself if there are dull subjects. I figure there are a few, but only because they don’t catch the imagination of the person looking at them. All subjects, I think, can be used for some form of writing, even if it’s only a silly piece of background business in a manuscript. If the writer is clever, that bit of business can become a telling clue or piece of a puzzle for later in the story.

Now that you’ve seen some of the stuff I’m likely to submerge myself into, look at your own preferences. I dare you. Find three of those esoteric subjects in hidden books and see just how many uses to which you can put the information. Then tell me about it. I’m always willing to learn something new.

Until later,

Claudsy

One More Silver Lining

For the past two weeks I’ve been dealing with pneumonia and its many twists and turns. Antibiotics make me sleepy, among other things, and this time being sleepy didn’t help matters since coughing and shortness of breath were my main symptoms.

I don’t tell you this for sympathy but, rather, to set the stage for what comes next. If you’ve ever had a respiratory infection or pneumonia to any degree, you know that sleeping on the horizontal isn’t going to happen. The lungs won’t allow for it. Throw in a slight sinus infection, and you’ll really not sleep much.

So, there I was, not sleeping in an upright and locked position, cradled on the corner of my bed, back against three pillows, one of which actually did hold my head up and allow me to turn it from side to side.

While I sat there for hours in the darkness, not sleeping but wallowing in that twilight state of antibiotic-drugged drowsiness, my mind was free to run wild, without destination, purpose, or forethought. The hors d'oeuvres of primitive thought kept floating in front of the mind’s eye, offering up delicacies of unlimited scope in the creative sense.

Entire novels rolled by, pulled onward down an ever-lengthening road by a team of amusing characters that were fit to assemble into something miraculous if I could just hold onto them to write down enough during the day to remember them. Unfortunately, such was not the case. They drove away on their wagonload of plotline and interesting twists before I could fully grasp enough details to hang onto the storyline.

Dragged behind that wagon came another book; I called it “The Book of Notions.” This one stuck with me and expanded with each new consideration. A vision flashed across my inner movie screen; a man dressed in period costume—late nineteenth century—carrying  under one arm a large book, bound in black, thin and mysterious. The title, embossed in gold, was “The Book of Notions.” I never saw the man’s face. It didn’t matter. The title stuck in my mind.

Now I had something to hold onto. Substance couldn’t be too far away. Suddenly that great little story that I’d just written for a competition took on a whole new meaning. It was the first of the “Notions” and would anchor all of the rest. There would be between 15 and 20 Notion stories and they would use the same narrator and all would be slightly quirky, sad or amazing, funny or chilling. I could see the entire project; a project I could do over time and look for just the right subjects to fill the book.

The whole project resided within that black binding with gold lettering. I knew where I’d look for the stories. I knew the approach I would take. I knew it would work.

It isn’t often when I come across something like this that has such a feel of rightness to it. I always hang onto those with both hands, and they’re always worthwhile. And it isn’t as if I don’t have enough projects already on my plate. I have five that I’m working on now. This one, though, is one that haunts, but in a good way; a way that forces me to keep it in mind, forces me to keep thinking about what the stories will be. I won’t neglect this one for long between story installments.

Perhaps this is a true example of inspiration. Perhaps it’s only an example of hallucinations and fevered dreams. Either way, I have a long-term project that will hold my interest in easy installments and that’s something worthwhile.

Here’s hoping that all of you are so fortunate to find a silver lining for yourself. Until later,

Claudsy

Scoring the Right Music

Much has been written of late about music and the writer. I’d never put my mind to the question before this past couple of months. Suddenly everyone wants to know what others listen to when they’re writing. 

Some prefer to hear nothing while their minds struggle to put precise words onto the screen or the paper. I could not do that on a regular basis. I have specific music that I listen to when I need to shut out the world while composing whatever prose or poetry is destined to flow from my fingertips. 

Kitaro's or Deuter's fabulous CDs work well when in that dreamy, contemplative phase of creation strikes. For those lively stories that demand lots of movement, Andes Manta fills the headphones with Ecuadorian life and celebration. I highly recommend this group or ones like them for fast paced writing. For op-ed work, pipes and drums come to mind or something very martial in attitude—one of the classical works, perhaps. Mannheim Steamroller is an impressive incentive type music, too.

I’ve tried music with voices raised in song. I can’t do it—too distracting. I want music, but only instrumentals. Relaxation, meditation, or sound effects CDs will work as well--for poetry, especially. 

When I think about those writers of centuries ago, I wonder what filled their ears while their fingers were busy with quill and parchment or vellum. Did they come to the point of screaming at the distraction of rowdy children squealing and running below their window? I tend to doubt they hired minstrels to come play for them during working hours. 

What did Homer hear while penning his masterpieces? Was it only the surf pounding against the rocky shoreline, or splashing against the sides of ships at anchor? Did Tennyson or Bryon, Melville or Hawthorne wait for the appropriate strains of music before risking their brilliance to the permanence of ink on paper?  

Somehow I doubt it. 

Our times dictate most of what we do and how we do it. Many of us can no longer envision a life without a ready connection to others thousands of miles away that takes less than the flick of a thought to bring into your space. We’re spoiled by our now. 

And yet, I wonder if we recognize our now when we’re in it. How many of us are actually aware of an instant of thought or inspiration? How many take the opportunity to breathe deeply of a rose’s perfume before strolling off to our next encounter? And how many are aware of what they missed today because their chosen writing instruments and music have kept them prisoner behind a screen.

You tell me.

Until later,

Claudsy

Notes on Writing

Last night Sister Jo and I went to the symphony. We’d lucked out a couple of months back when she won tickets to the first concert of the season of the Glacier Symphony Orchestra and Chorale.

We weren’t disappointed in the performance. It was brilliant. Amit Peled, the renowned cellist, performed to the strains of Antonin Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B Minor, Op. 104. Over the years I’ve heard a lot of cellists play, but I’ve never heard one that did multiple harmonic chords simultaneously. That feat sent shivers up my spine. He definitely deserves his acclaim.

Sister Jo, much to her benefit, became overheated during the first movement of the final piece, Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in G major. She excused herself and headed out to the lobby. It was fortunate for her because while she sat in the comfort of an overstuff couch with plenty of elbow room, Amit Peled joined her. He was cooling off after his performance. I tried not to be jealous later when she told me of this encounter. I’m still not sure if I succeeded.

During the fourth movement of Mahler’s Symphony, guest soprano, Emily Murdock, sand a marvelous rendition of the German solo. For those of us in the audience who didn’t speak German, we made do with following along with the printed lyrics in the program via tiny pen lights.

The oddity of this symphony was that it held many passages in discordance. The glory of it was that though the discordance was held, harmonics surrounded and blended with it so that it was no longer a disruptive element. I’ll come back to this fact in a bit.

I tell you all of this because I have a habit. Maybe all writers have a similar one. I don’t know.

When I’m listening to a symphony like this, where several pieces are brought together for presentation, with each one having a distinct theme and sound, I pay attention to the different mental images evoked. I sit with my eyes closed and allow my mind to create whatever images it wants. If I work it right, I can begin by thinking of an unfinished story project on my desk and watch the rest of the story unfold.

That’s what I did last night. I began by thinking of my YA/Adult fantasy novel, “Wisher’s World: Composing an Apprentice” and slipped the reins on my imagination. By the end of the first musical offering of the evening--Josef Suk’s Scherzo Fantastique, Op. 25--I had the rest of the story, full-blown, complete with plot twists. The music was perfect for my purpose. My job at that point was to remember what I’d seen behind closed eyes.

I enjoyed the cello piece for itself, and then turned to my women’s novel “Dreamie’s Box” for the symphony. I got some great twists during that session. Remember that fact about the discordance? While I listen I realized that for me it symbolized those obstacles that the main character must overcome, solve, utilize to advantage. I began to see the interplay between discordant action and the harmony of other parts in a story as having an intricate relationship, built of both necessity and achievement at the end. They must both be present.

That lesson was an important one for me. I suppose it’s an important one for any writer. Learning from listening to that music brought the lesson home with impact and permanence.

I came away with more than the music ringing in my ears. I had new notes for writing on two novels under construction right now. What more could any writer want? What I wonder is whether other writers do the same thing when they listen to music.

Think about it. Let me know what you think. Until later,

Claudsy

Taking Time

There are times like now when preparations for a short trip, entertaining, etc. begin to pall. That’s when I choose to take my mind completely away from the current time consumers and look for something totally different.

Doing this clears the mind to allow for subtle preparations and mental lists to go on while the body and front brain are engaged elsewhere.

Today, that elsewhere was learning more about how to effectively use Office 2010. Beginning with Word, the process moved me though templates, themes, styles, etc. There was very much to learn and try to keep straight in the mind. Though I used this version of Word for over a year, I’d never gotten to know it and its potential. That oversight is rapidly being corrected.

Suddenly the idea of all of those lovely pages that I saw everyone else put together didn’t intimidate me anymore. For so long I’ve watched from the bleachers while all around me creativity was flaunted with such ease that I felt like a complete idiot.

I know there are books that seemed written just for me. I’ve seen them on the shelves and felt too embarrassed to actually buy one. Way back when I got my Office 2010 software, I went to all the trouble of buying a nice book called “The Ultimate Guide to Microsoft Office 2010.”

I’d refused to take sufficient time or attention to read, absorb and fiddle on the computer to learn anything it might have had to say about my new programs.

Shame should cover me with its scarlet flush. Now it’s possible to create marvelous-looking documents with simple tools. Hope springs up in my heart; hope of learning how to edit with notes in the margins, or that exciting photo modification that’s available—and  dare I think Publishing. Can’t wait to get to that chapter.

Study time has ended for the day. Perhaps this weekend while I’m killing time in a motel room in Washington, I can take on the next phase of this process called “becoming familiar with Office 2010.”

Laptop and book will accompany me on our short trip westward. I’ll keep busy with learning and reading.

Anyone who is only now beginning to take this software seriously should drop by the local chain bookstore. Get yourself a copy of a book like mine that can walk you through the process of learning ribbons, media creation, etc. You don’t have to go online and listen to tutorials unless you want to, or unless you have two computers; one for the tutorial and one for hands-on practice.

Jump in and explore some of the options. If you’re like me and haven’t taken the time to dive deeper than you’ve gone before, strap on the scuba tank and take a gander at what’s on the sea bottom. I’ve found treasure I didn’t know existed. All I have to do is haul it up and cash in on it.

Until later,

Claudsy