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  • August28th

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    Roughed out…

    Posted in: Inspiration, Philosophy

    Chapter four is roughed out with chapter five right behind. Chapter six is still a blank page. So I have two chapter to work on, transitional chapters. Things happen. Courses redirected. The story picks up pace and begins to rapidly change.

    I wonder if anyone can ever appreciate how many times I’ve rewritten, rethought all of these things. Does it matter if they could? I mean, I hope that anyone reading my book and then reading this blog, might gain an understanding of just how difficult a craft writing is, and more importantly, that work takes time to produce. You have to give it the time it needs.

    Why should I care? Well, for one, I do hope it adds worth, to understand the making of a thing. Perhaps an unfair motivation, but an honest one. Know it took time and effort. Hate it all the same and pity me for lack of talent–well, that’s honest too. We have no misunderstanding then.

    I just wouldn’t want what people often think when they read or see a piece of art. It was frivolously made. Oh, she just wrote it in an afternoon, without care for quality. No, this would be a falsity. It did take time. Tremendous amounts. And not of idle daydream– hardly! Difficult work. Reasoning. Thinking. Plotting. Looking for structure and ways to lead one event into the next. Let alone all the rest.

    It’s a paper universe. No less detailed. No less explored or thought through. Folded and refolded, examined and re-examined from very available angle.

  • August26th

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    Chapter Four

    Posted in: Process, Projects

    Chapter Four is proving to be very difficult to write.  Again, multiple false starts with reconsidering all the way through. There are critical things that need to happen in this scene, but because the number of characters in high, each with their own agenda even if we never see just how important from their POV–being that we are limited in POV characters.

    Still, these things must be made to happen. With so many agendas it’s hard to keep the focus. We see it through only one character POV. That character’s perceptions and needs should come first. It’s why I change my mind so much, even considering chopping the whole scene out….it’s a tough one.

  • August21st

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    I think my first chapter…

    Posted in: Philosophy, Process, Projects, Writing

    is done.

    Six weeks of rewriting the first three chapters and I believe the first one is done, with maybe two to three sentences that need to be looked at. Its about 2500 words–really short. I chopped about a page out of it in editing today.

    So that’s what I am going to write about–what is it that I chopped out?

    First, realize that this new first chapter is actually half the plot line of my original first chapter–it’s double the length in words to tell half of what happens in chapter one of the submission draft. When I rewrote this chapter, I added two critical things–one, description. A tighter description of place and action. Second, internal dialog, but speaking to motivation–as opposed to a running dialog of thought.

    What did I cut? Internal thought. Motivation. There is one paragraph where my character thinks about something and passes judgment on it. That’s it. I do not describe what she feels or thinks with words from her POV. This is in order to prevent myself from weighing down the prose with explaining–telling. It’s okay to do this with my opening scene, it keeps things active, vital, engaging and lends mystery.

    I ask the readers to infer. I did not say she was, happy, sad, scared, unsure–even if I supposed that she might well think some of those things throughout the scene. Its hard not to, because in some respects, it feels like this kind of telling why someone feels a certain way–is, well, showing. It feels like it adds to the scene–but does it really?

    I chopped it out because it doesn’t advance the action. This scene is about action. The next scene is about action. The scene after that is dramatic conflict. It is slower. There is action, physical action..and mental reaction. Here’s where I might falter a little. I know perfectly well what’s going on and so does my character. I’m just wary. Here’s my bet, and why I’m keeping multiple versions…I’ll chop too much. In rewriting these chapters I changed the entire under structure of this character’s life. In the second and third draft of what I’ve been working on these six weeks, I’ve filled the gaps of hows and whys–and in this fourth draft, I’m chopping back them out, leaving only the bones of the beast, hoping the flavor of the meat still resides in the stew.

  • August19th

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    A little deeper thought based on yesterday

    Posted in: Inspiration

    I dearly love beginner’s mind. It’s a wonderful state of existing, conducive to the happiest kind of life imaginable. Possibilities are completely open; one only has to choose the path to follow and go. It’s the willingness to try new things, to be bold and unafraid, to push forward in new endeavors, to be happy and joyful in the simple act of doing. Whenever I try something new, like electric pirate coats or three dimensional cakes, that beginner’s mind blooms in me. I’m never so happy as when I’m working for the simple joy of discovering possibility and helping to create it.

    Beginner’s mind doesn’t last forever though, it can’t. It’s a beautiful protective kind of blindness that fades as you build skill. That isn’t to say that beginner’s mind protects you from fear, not at all, but the fear is simple. Fear of the dark, the unknown and what mysterious dangers reside there. It comes in several forms but I recognize it as fear of the utterly blank page, or fear of the white empty canvas. Conquering this, which can be overwhelming if you’ve never done it, or have little practice at, requires persistence and a little touch of faith.

    With the coming of skill, the beginner’s mind fades. The blindness is lifted and all at once you are a Journeyman. No longer a Beginner, but far from a Master. No longer blind, you can see your own flaws–and fear with everything you’ve got, the ones that escape your vision. It’s really hard to create as a Journeyman. Risky, very risky. Our egos are so fragile, they want success only outcomes. Art of any kind does bare the soul for the whole world to see. Suddenly nothing less than perfection will do, and yet a Journeyman has not the skill.

    Frustrating, maddening, despair filled hours of toil, where every painting, every draft feels as difficult as the first–that’s the path a Journeyman takes. People are shocked when I say it. But it is true. It all feels the same and seems that the only way to measure progress is to look back at earlier attempts and try to fathom if there is some improvement or not. When the day comes that you look at that former attempt with a cold dispassionate eye and cringe inside—a Journeyman you are, for now you see clearly what the beginner’s mind held back–lest you should give up before you even try.

    A Journeyman has to risk a broken heart to gain a greater prize than self preservation has the ability to grant. We face the fear of the known, the fear of failure, and yet there is joyfulness too. No longer blind, the path to mastery rightly begins.

  • August18th

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    Struggling? Maybe.

    Posted in: Philosophy, Process

    A newly published author with her first book out said it took her no less than twelve years, the majority of that time spent rewriting her singular story. I swoon at the thought. Twelve damnable years!

    At a  snail’s pace I plod along, rewriting, rewriting, rewriting. Last night I’d had enough. I went back to my rough and my submission and then to my current draft and tried to compare, tried to see where the changes were made–do they even  matter?

    It’s hard to even find matching sections on which to make a comparison. The rough is a rough. It’s the telling of a story. The draft is the showing of a story. So I compared drafts. The prose is different, but more than that–what I see now is a weaving of inner and outer reflection. There is description, but not for the sake of describing–that is why I left it out in the first place. No, this is not the same somehow.

    Meanwhile, as I write circles around myself in the mud, the story ever grows. The more concrete and grounded the prose, the deeper and wider the storyline fills in, fleshes out–far into the future, that which I haven’t gotten to yet in the draft. Mere chapters away, but an eternity of time in rewriting land.

    I hate it. It mocks me. I take my little broken spoon, filling up a glass jar with shifting sand. I’ll never be able to capture it. I look back at my footsteps in the desert and have no sense of where I’ve been. Am I coming, am I going, am I lost in circle? So much is a mirage. I worked hard on my submission draft, truly, I did. Only six weeks later I look back and shake my head in despair. Despair. I honestly didn’t understand what they told me in critique.

    I fully understand it now. Rejoice that I understand? No, I feel childish in my lacking ability to perceive things in the broad open light of day. I’ve already written the length of that submission probably more than once, in my subsequent false starts. 10,000 words is next to nothing in my world these days.

    I can’t explain this right, I know. Countless times while learning to draw and paint, instructors have picked up my brush or charcoal and with a few lines or strokes, corrected something right before my eyes that I never even saw. And gratefully I went on.

    So I did in this case too. I took the advice, I worked hard to correct, to re-envision, feeling but not seeing my way through this horrible thing we call story craft. Looking back, my blindness hurts me.

    Beginner’s mind is beautiful, precious thing.  Bold and unafraid, a beginner will push forward happy taking joy in the simple act of doing– a loving protection of sorts. Utter blindness.

    It’s official though. My blushing shame, my cringing feeling at reading where I have been, knowing how well pleased with myself that I was to have even finished—no, I am now a journeyman. I am able to see at least some of my own flaws–and fear the ones I can’t.

    It’s a sign of true growth, but a dangerous time as well. The fragile ego wrestles for control, in hopes of managing the risk to itself. Suddenly, only perfection will do–when the truth is, perfection at this stage is just not possible. You have to be willing to risk. Risk a broken heart to gain greater prize than self preservation has the ability to grant. Let fear win in this stage and you’ll forever be held in the grasp of never having true confidence. It’s the most difficult stage of artistic development, a painful way to live because you’ve grown the wings, earned your birthright to the sky, but are afraid to use them for fear of falling. God, it hurts to fail.

  • August16th

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    Looking for something

    Posted in: Philosophy

    Artists are always looking for something, namely themselves..we are egoists after all.

    So here I am, having returned to painting, and looking for something. I’ve got some visual looks in mind that match my natural style. My natural style is flat, line driven, with texture–trying to work that into my new painting skills that focus on form, a more realistic approach. It’s going to take experimenting, and for me, that starts with simple mindless painting and trying new things. I have to go fail a while. Discover what works out of a big messy pile of paintings. It’s the final step in my overall plan. I mastered realism. Now to bring it back to the way I see the world.

  • August14th

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    Six weeks of rewriting

    Posted in: Process, Projects

    And I’m at 8,500 words. This is all draft. I started out my rewrite with an alternate VP which my readers didn’t care for. So, what are my thoughts at six weeks….

    Well, I am taking lots of time with it, trying to work with all the things that go into good prose. I am done with plot essentially, so these words are meant to convey milieu, a picture, a concrete place in time with a character the reader gets to know. I’ve stripped out the passive voice. I’ve gone for a lyrical flow to my words. I’ve pulled out my massive thesaurus to delve deep into wordcraft. It’s a different piece. Deeper.

    But my character is different too. She’s changing under these circumstances–and yet, perhaps it’s just the way I perceive her. Was is it to be a child, anyway? And when do we truly change?

    I suppose we shall see. I am considering tossing it back out to my readers, even though I swore I wouldn’t do it until I had it nearly finished–for reading after reading of the first 10,000 words is futile really. Perhaps, better that I say 20,000. If I’m not cooking with gas at 20,000 I should throw in the towel.

  • August12th

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    School is just about to begin

    Posted in: Musings

    A week away from work into order to prepare for school, an entire truck load of coats, sweaters, and kid clothes to Goodwill–still not ready. It takes so much to prepare, that I don’t really feel there is much hope to keep up with it all, once it gets started in earnest.

    Even so, a change of weather would be nice. It’s very very hot. I have some new projects on the horizon….if I can get a hold of a table saw.

  • August2nd

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    A nice thought for today

    Posted in: Inspiration, Musings

    Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for but never seen…

    This is a little quote from a book on description. Description is really more difficult a skill than you might think on first blush. After all, we learn about it so early on in grammar school with the use of adjectives and modifiers. The quote really speaks to the heart of the issue though , read it carefully.

    Pictures of things wished for but never seen. I suppose then truly, they have to be felt first. A good way to approach description, for if we want it to work effectively, it has to have purpose in the story.

    What is description anyway? Have you ever thought about it?  Description isn’t defined to a simple physical list of attributes, but even the verbs you choose can be active, expressive, suggestive, ultimately—descriptive. It really is sort of painting with words. I would definitely say so of poetry, but it is true when it comes to longer fiction as well.

    It’s a skill to begin to see the difference in words that simply label and words that evoke. Words that define or categorize, but really add very little to the mental picture–and words that paint the fictional dream in vibrant color. Words that go right to the senses and then a step further. It’s intriguing really, when you have the moment to look at it in depth. I like to think about things like these on occasion. I like to read just for the verbs and marvel at how many different ones there are.

  • August1st

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    To be a Master at something….

    Posted in: Fear and Loathing, Process, Projects

    I had a sobering thought today. If I were to have spent all this time on my book and put it into my painting instead–I’d been showing real mastery now. Maybe it’s not fair to think on things in this fashion–after all, I have an MFA and a work history behind me. A year’s worth of solid everyday intensive work would make a huge difference–because that difference would be all about the refinement of existing skill.

    But instead, I’ve taken a different path. I’ve decided to try something new. Ground zero type of new. Self taught ground zero. Well, if you have talent, you can build skill. I’ve always maintained that. I guess I’m just wondering how wise or perhaps unwise I’ve been with my time.

    I wouldn’t wonder about it at all, if I didn’t have this other option. But I do. I could be doing some nice illustration right now, and that has its own great joys about it.

    It’s not wrong to try new things. Sometimes that’s the only way we find new passions in life. But there is a danger in it too–especially if you already know you have talents elsewhere. Who is to say that the quest for my book will only lead me to passable mediocrity–when that same time spent in another venue would lend itself to true mastery? It’s not that I am unwilling to push and try to learn and build my skill at my new venture…I think over my long time at working and reworking, I’ve proven to myself that I certainly have what it takes to at least finish–that’s extremely important to me–to finish.

    But there is no guarantee that even though I’ve tried very hard, I simply won’t have what it takes to achieve something worth all of that time, except in my own personal world. That’s really the truth with any project. But the difference between a professional and a hobbyist is that the professional continues on working very hard at building skill, where the hobbyist is rightfully content with enjoying the work of their hands, skill level being relative and not so much the point.

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