by anesamiller_wuhi6k | Aug 3, 2015 | Blog, Writing & Publishing
Illustration from AAIW by John Tenniel
I’m grateful to friend and author Marnie Cate for inspiring this post and hosting it on her lovely website a few weeks ago. When I first visited Marnie’s site, I noticed that her work concerns magic and the paranormal. I had to admit off the bat that, by contrast, I am primarily drawn to realism. However, I do NOT claim to have any better grasp of “reality” than writers of other genres. To me, realism in fiction basically means that, “Things may get weird, but no supernatural forces will be blamed.”
I’m not sure when the realist bug bit me so hard. Earlier in life, my favorite books were The Chronicles of Narnia, The Fellowship of the Ring, and Alice in Wonderland. A long detour through Russian literature may have done it (which is why I call myself a “recovering academic”). The 19th-century Russian novels of Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Dostoevsky are often classed as a “golden age of realism.”
Nonetheless, I love flashbacks, dream sequences, and the mysteries of nature—these can all be excellent elements in fiction, in my opinion. In fact, there is one key element in my new novel, Our Orbit, that doesn’t fit the realist mold.
One of the main characters in my novel is a young girl named Miriam, who has the misfortune of witnessing her father’s arrest by a SWAT team. Terrified, she hides under her parents’ bed, expecting US Marshals to come for her next. Of course, she does not understand that they will take her not to jail but to a foster home. Nonetheless, while she trembles in hiding, something strange takes place —
…the light switch clicked by the door of Daddy’s bedroom. Miriam tried to sink into the floor. Light reached for her under the edge of the sheet. …she saw dark boots in the doorway.
“Hey,” said the man’s voice. “You playing hide-and-seek in here? You can come out now, okay?”
He sounded young. Not so mean as the others. Miriam snuffled, wiped her face on her sleeve. She knew it would tell him she was under the bed.
His knees crackled when he bent down. “Come on,” he said, almost beside her now. “Don’t be so scared. We’re not here to hurt you.”
The miracle wasn’t that his voice sounded kind. The miracle was that his voice called up another, a voice Miriam had been the last person on earth to hear. Her daddy had said many times, “Miriam was with her when she died.” And Isaac said, “You know, Miriam, you were the last person to talk to Momma alive.” So now she heard her mother again, almost like the breath of someone sleeping beside you in a warm bed on a winter night—
Now is a time to be very brave. This man is not going to harm a child, I promise you that much. And no more bad things will happen tonight. You will go to a good and safe place.
Things may get weird, but no supernatural forces will be blamed…
Throughout the conflicts that develop in the story, Miriam continues to hear the voice of her deceased mother. I think it becomes clear that this is a source of comfort and guidance for her, almost as if her mother were still there. When my beta readers considered these episodes, a few said that I should explicitly clarify whether Miriam’s own psychology was causing this voice, or if it was intended to be a paranormal phenomenon.
Guardian angel….
Like most writers, I think, I was reluctant to ‘cut and dry’ the mystery. The question of whether the spirit of Miriam’s mother literally speaks to her in times of trouble remains open. In my opinion, the story lends itself a bit more to one interpretation than the other, but I hope readers will find the meaning that speaks to them.
~ ~ ~ ~
Visit author Marnie Cate and connect with her on Facebook, on Twitter, and Goodreads. Find her book, Remember, Protectors of the Elemental Magic on Amazon.
~ ~ ~ ~
Thank you for visiting my blog today! Please check out the rest of the website and let me know if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions. You can reach me by leaving a comment in the box below or by clicking the Contact link at upper right (or just click here). Consider subscribing to my blog or newsletter. And stop by again soon!
by anesamiller_wuhi6k | Jul 31, 2015 | Blog, Issues in Our Orbit -- Substance Abuse & Recovery
Today I’m honored to present information in the series Issues in OUR ORBIT: Substance Abuse & Recovery. I am grateful to romance and fantasy writer C.D. Taylor for sharing this post, which appeared on her blog on June 29, 2015. Kudos to her for coming through a challenging year —
In life we find so many instances to celebrate. Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations. We turn baked goods into balls of flaming death and wait for someone to blow saliva all over the treats so we can devour them and cheer on the recipient of our congratulations. I for one have celebrated many things. Birthdays of course are the number one on my list but this year I have something new to celebrate. Something that I never thought I’d be cheering myself on about. Sobriety. Yes, you heard me. I’m coming up on one solid year of being clean from narcotic pain killers. Some may say that isn’t something to celebrate, that I should be ashamed that I was ever in that sort of situation. Truth be told, I was ashamed. I didn’t want anyone knowing I had a problem. What would they think of me? Would they turn away from me because of my past?
The fallout I envisioned was comparable to nuclear meltdown in my life. I didn’t want or need for any of those things to happen. What changed my mind?
Secrets can only be hidden for so long. Eventually they rear their ugly head and somehow you are exposed in a negative light without being able to tell your side of the story or defend yourself. The best way to combat that was to come clean (no pun intended). You’ll notice that recently I did come clean about my problem (there’s a blog post about it).
Somehow I found healing…
Somehow I found healing in that post, like it was something I needed to do in order to close the wounds that were so ferociously ripped open by my addiction. Clicking the ‘publish’ button on that blog was one of the most nerve racking things I’ve ever done in my life. But after it was over, I sat back and thought ‘this is it. This is where I begin the new leg of my journey.’ And it was. It was a day when I put the old me into a little box and told her to behave. Believe it or not, she’s been behaving like a dream!
One year. A lot can happen in a year. Births, deaths. In a way I was reborn and I killed off the person I was before. It feels great not having to depend on something that was literally killing me from the inside out. I wake up with a clear head and I’m always ready to face things with positivity. Life is pretty damn good.
After a whole year of being clean, I began to ponder some things about addiction. The foremost of them was the ease of actually getting pills. I never bought them off the street, but I did doctor shop and lie about something happening to the bottle I already had. Yeah, I was a shitty person. It’s okay, you’re more than welcome to call me that, it doesn’t hurt.
I found myself visiting with my regular physician today though and fired up a conversation about this topic. She was more than happy to discuss this with me, knowing my history with pills. I wanted to hear her opinion as a professional about how she toes the line in issuing narcotic pain killers. First of all, doctors are primarily compassionate people. They went into their field of study because they care about people and want to heal them. So in my mind, I would think it would be hard to turn someone down if they walked in saying they were in pain. She confirmed my suspicion.
“It is hard. There’s a line drawn between professionalism and what’s legal, compared to what I feel personally for a human being. It’s difficult to look at someone who claims they’re in pain and say ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give you this’”. “We are here to help people feel better, but in the back of your mind you have to think of the worst case scenario.” I have to agree with her on this. I am a fairly compassionate person myself. It would kill me to say no to someone who claims to be in horrible pain. I went on to ask her how she deals with something like this.
“Honestly, I don’t deal a lot in pain management. If I think they are being truthful about their pain, I refer them to a pain management specialist.” I know from firsthand experience that a pain management specialist isn’t like a regular physician. In order for you to get drugs from them, you are required to take a psych evaluation. They make you jump through so many hoops that by the time you’re done, you’ve already found a sucker doctor to give you more pills. So kudos to her for making the right call when it comes to people in pain. Point blank, if someone is in real pain, they will do what they have to in order to heal from that pain.
Another topic that my doctor and I discussed was about my future. No, not my career or anything like that. It was a discussion about “what happens if you need another surgery, or even do something like break your leg?” It was a valid question. “Sure you could try to tough it out and suffer through it, but I don’t recommend that.”
No, I don’t really think I’d like to ‘suffer through’ my femur being snapped in half, if this unfortunate event ever came about. I’d want something to dull the pain for sure, who wouldn’t? I’m no martyr that’s for damn sure. To her question, though, I already had an answer ready. See, when you go through something as epic as addiction and come out alive on the other side, you always need a contingency plan. A plan B, if you will. I’ve had my plan B ready since the day I decided to give up my addiction.
If I ever meet with an unfortunate accident or require surgery, I have let my husband know he will be my ‘dealer’ for all intents and purposes. He will give me the prescribed dosage of medicine when I need it. Now, it won’t be one of those things where I’m allowed 6 pills a day and he hands them to me each morning…no, that would be stupid. Giving a recovering addict 6 pills is like giving a small child 6 Snickers Bars and expecting them to not eat every single one in 30 seconds. It’s hard to practice self-control when you have a past of addiction.
The brain of an addict will always try to revert back to past behavior.
Ask any former addict, they will tell you the same thing. Medicine will have to be dosed out individually. And I’m okay with that. I’ll need help, and I’ll ask for help. I’m not too proud to ask for help in keeping myself clean. It’s all part of the game. A game that I am winning and will continue to win.
Retraining your brain isn’t an easy task. It takes more determination than you can possibly imagine. But what’s the old saying? “Anything worth having, is worth fighting for”? Something like that I suppose. Yeah, I did this for me. Making the decision to be clean was one of the most selfish choices I’ve ever made. But instead of feeling bad about it, I feel empowered. Like I’ve slayed the dragon and I now hold its head in my fist as a trophy, a reminder of sorts.
Maybe this has opened your eyes to other types of celebrations that people do. Maybe you will read this and be judgmental about my past. But here’s the thing…I’ve spent the past year judging myself. I have beat myself up more times than I can count. Did it do any good? No. I was still the same person after my lashings. I am still standing strong and learning from my mistakes. The great thing is that I can recognize them now. I can look at things with a fresh perspective and smile because I was given a second chance. I was given the opportunity to make amends with myself and say ‘it’s okay, I messed up. But I will do better’.
Don’t be so hard on yourself for your shortcomings. Most of them are only stepping stones to get to a brighter future. The less time you spend hating yourself, the more time you have to enjoy the life you’ve been given.
Peace, Love and Pages
C.D. Taylor/Taylor Dawn
Visit C.D. Taylor on Facebook, on Twitter, and on Amazon.
~ ~ ~ ~
The links below provide information on addiction and recovery.
Visit the Harvard Help Guide
Visit SoberNation
Visit Parent Treatment Advocates
And here’s a recent article from the New York Times on teenagers discussing what might have stopped them from using drugs.
~ ~ ~ ~
Thank you for visiting my blog today! Please check out the rest of the website and let me know if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions. You can reach me by leaving a comment in the box below or by clicking the Contact link at upper right (or just click here). Consider subscribing to my blog or newsletter. And stop by again soon!
by anesamiller_wuhi6k | Jul 27, 2015 | Blog, Writing & Publishing
Many thanks to Dawn Brazil, an author and all-round great person, who not only provided the inspiration for this post but also shared it first on her blog, Dawn Brazil’s Brilliant Babbles about Books —
When I first visited Dawn’s website several weeks ago, I was impressed with her use of music: music video clips, playlists, and more. It made me realize what a special source of inspiration music offers for all the arts and for life, overall. We can turn to it any time to refresh our mood or energize our creativity. Songs that we love and melodies we remember from long ago yield rich imagery for many writers.
I took a look back at my novel, Our Orbit, and noticed that music plays an important part in the story.
The first instance comes in the opening scene. It’s just a small point, but I think it helps to reveal the main character. Miriam Winslow is a girl of nine, the youngest child of a close-knit working-class family. Before the plot takes off with Miriam’s forced removal from her home and placement in foster care, I wanted to give a glimpse of how her intimate family members knew her. Rather than spend a lot of space of this, I tried to choose a telling detail. Miriam’s feeling for music helped me out—
(As Miriam’s mother, Emaline, drives through a snowstorm to pick up an older daughter, they bypass the turn for their home at Friendly Village Mobile Home Park.)
Emaline suppressed a sigh. Instead of slowing for the turn, she tapped the horn and called out, “Hold the fort, Friendly!”
“Friendly, holding steady—” sang little Miriam from the back seat, quick to answer the cue in this family routine of forgotten origin, homage to the home where Emaline arrived as a bride half her life ago.
In this short passage, my aim was to show that Miriam is a happy child who enjoys melody and is not shy about sharing her voice. She expresses loyalty to her family by singing a “ditty” they invented for fun before she was born. As the story goes on, readers will learn that Miriam’s older brothers and sister have largely given up such family rituals as they began to deal with mainstream culture at school and among their peers. Miriam is the one who keeps family traditions alive, and she will bring them to her new foster family.
As a motif in our writing, music can play a wonderful role in revealing cultural differences between groups of people. Our Orbit explores these differences on a small, local scale: Miriam’s birth family and her foster family have a great deal in common, and yet they belong to separate groups with limited contact. Both families have lived in the same Ohio county for generations. They are of the same race and similar heritage from northern Europe. And both families are Protestant Christians of weekly church-going habits. Even so, the barriers between them are economic class and educational background.
When Miriam first attends church with her foster family, she is awed by the large building, bright chandeliers, and long hallways for Sunday school classes and meeting rooms. People are more dressed up than she is accustomed to, and all their clothes are new and brightly colored. But it is Miriam’s reaction to the music at this big, new church that makes clear to readers: She grew up on the other side of the tracks.
While Miriam ran up the church steps…she heard a choir strike up a song inside. Sounded like a hundred people! Across the bright lobby…you could see the flash of white-and-gold robes as the singers stepped left, right, back, front, clapping their hands on each move. A rock band with guitars and drums was playing along. Tambourines rattled…
This must be the hugest church in town, Miriam thought, All we have back at Holy Redeemer is one little piano. And even with every person singing, there were only a few dozen voices…
Miriam’s home church was a small, “backwoods” congregation without paid professionals to direct a choir or play instruments. Although she soon comes to appreciate the music at her foster family’s prosperous church, her first impression is mixed. Based on her experience, the “loud, peppy music” seems more like a performance than a call to worship. More like a “dance party” than an occasion to repent one’s sins.
(When Miriam’s foster father, Rick, takes her back to visit her home church, Holy Redeemer Tabernacle, we see the tradition through his eyes.)
[It was] a tiny white-washed church on Key Ridge, south of town… The piano’s tinny chords rang out… There was no choir director and no hymnals, but harmony swelled from two to four parts. The voices were strong for such an elderly crowd—
To Canaan’s land I’m on my way,
Where the soul of man never dies,
And my darkest nights will turn to day,
Where the soul of man never dies…
People embraced. Some laughed, others wiped away tears…
Here is a list of a few songs that played in my head as I worked on Our Orbit. I’ve hunted up those I could find on YouTube to give an impression of how they sound. Some of the hymns are quoted in the book (as in the scene above), while others served more to set a mood for my writing.
“The Soul of Man Never Dies” performed by Tony Rice and Ricky Skaggs. From the DVD “Legends of Flatpicking Guitar.”
“There is a Balm in Gilead” performed by Mahalia Jackson.
“The Stable Song” performed by Gregory Alan Isakov.
And to close on a happy note, here is “Dreams” performed by the Cranberries. This is the favorite song of Miriam’s teenage sister Rachelle. It becomes embarrassing to Rachelle when her friends make fun of the band because they are Irish and “talk funny.” So we see that Rachelle’s musical taste is a bit more open-minded than some of the people around her!
~ ~ ~ ~
Visit Dawn Brazil at her blog, Brilliant Babbles About Books.
Connect with Dawn on Facebook, on Twitter, on Goodreads, Pinterest, and on Amazon.
~ ~ ~ ~
Thank you for visiting my blog today! Please check out the rest of the website and let me know if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions. You can reach me by leaving a comment in the box below or by clicking the Contact link at upper right (or just click here). Consider subscribing to my blog or newsletter. And stop by again soon!
by anesamiller_wuhi6k | Jul 23, 2015 | Blog, Series: Drawer no more!, Writing & Publishing
This post by friend and author Anne Leigh Parrish first appeared on Women Writers, Women’s Books on December 15, 2014. Thanks for sharing, Anne!
As the fiction editor for Eclectica Magazine, it’s been both a privilege and pleasure to read story submissions. Finding the handful of pieces that take my breath away is what it’s all about. The good ones shine through, those that are brilliant positively sparkle.
That said, it’s too bad that so many stories that come my way miss the mark. These are usually decently written, no obvious grammatical errors, no huge prose clunkers. What they fail to do is hold my interest and make me care about the outcome. I see the same mistakes over and over. I thought I’d make a list of these, as a sort of guide to aspiring authors.
~ Not telling a story.
So many writers don’t seem to know what a story is, and isn’t. A story is not a nice description of how things are. It’s not a sensibility, or a mood. While those elements surely contribute to a story, a story itself is a narrative where there must be a change in the reader’s understanding of the events, or in the protagonist’s understanding. You leave a story seeing something you didn’t see at the outset, something that makes sense of what’s come before.
~ Trying to tell too many stories at once. In a short story, you need to figure out what the core is – the central theme, event, action, upheaval etc. All other story lines wrap around that central core, supporting it, or opposing it as a way to further illustrate what you’re driving at. Keep it simple. Don’t have too many characters, or an overly complicated plot. As you write, it’s very tempting to bring in an element that seems really interesting or colorful, but unless it fits with the whole, leave it out.
~ Characters with no inner life. A lot of stories that come through my queue feature people I couldn’t care less about, because I don’t know what makes them tick. I see what they do and where they live. I hear their conversations. But what do they feel? What do they care about? What are they most afraid of losing, or willing to fight for? If I don’t know what a character has at stake, I stop reading. So, make me care. Show me your character in a moment of crisis. She doesn’t have to act bravely or wisely, but in a way I recognize as a fellow human being.
~ Dialog that’s stiff or unnatural. Think about how people really talk to each other. They often don’t use complete sentences. Sometimes they swear. Are they cynical, sarcastic? Are they barely holding themselves together under an emotional strain? Make note of funny, strange, or colorful things you overhear people say, and find a way to work them into your fictional exchanges. One of my stories has my protagonist overhearing two strangers talking, and one says, “She’s as crazy as a box of hair.”
~ Bad pacing. Nothing kills a story faster for me than bad pacing. I give any piece about five pages, and if the action hasn’t gotten off the ground, I bail out. Equally bad is pacing that races along, skimming crucial scenes. Figure out what’s most important in your story, and spend enough time on it, but don’t drag it out. You have to keep moving.
~ Keeping the reader at arm’s length. Beginning writers tend to over-explain, as if they’re afraid that their readers won’t “get it.” Readers are asked to trust authors and suspend their disbelief; and writers must trust readers to be smart enough to fill in a few gaps for themselves. If you think you have to spell everything out, you may be assuming that your reader is pretty dumb. You need to show, not tell. Draw the reader in; let her experience what’s going on right up front, not from some cozy seat up in the balcony.
~ An ending that’s too neat. When I come to the end of a story, I like something left to my imagination. Maybe the protagonist will get the boy back, after all. Maybe she’ll get to a point where she can really move on with her life. Maybe she’ll meet someone even better. I want to decide for myself what happens. At this point, the author no longer gets to call the shots. It’s okay to leave some ambiguity and room for interpretation. You don’t need to tie everything up and have your characters live happily ever after, and in fact, it’s a lot better if you don’t.
I close with what someone once told me about the goal of fiction: “To lift us off from reality, and startle us into recognition.” Avoid mistakes, write the story only you can write, and do it brilliantly!
~ ~ ~ ~
Anne Leigh Parrish’s debut novel, What Is Found, What Is Lost, came out in October 2014 from She Writes Press. Her second story collection, Our Love Could Light The World (She Writes Press, 2013) was a finalist in both the International Book Awards and the Best Book Awards. Her first collection, All The Roads That Lead From Home (Press 53, 2011) won a silver medal in the 2012 Independent Publisher Book Awards. She is the fiction editor for the online literary magazine, Eclectica. She lives in Seattle.
Check out Anne’s debut novel What Is Found, What Is Lost.
Visit Anne’s blog and connect with her on Facebook.
Follow Anne on Twitter.
On Goodreads.
And on Pinterest.
~ ~ ~ ~
Many thanks for visiting my blog today! Please browse the website and let me know if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions. You can reach me by leaving a comment in the box below or by clicking the Contact link at upper right (or just click here). Consider subscribing to my blog or newsletter. And stop by again soon!
by anesamiller_wuhi6k | Jul 20, 2015 | Blog, Series: Drawer no more!, Writing & Publishing
Wild dreams….
A long-awaited milestone, such as the publication of a novel, brings both joy and reflection. Mine, Our Orbit, was published last month by Booktrope of Seattle after years of work and (often frustrated) hope. Questions come to mind, some my own and others posed by friends or fellow writers: What do we accomplish by writing books in the digital age? Why crank out hundreds of pages in the days of 140-character tweets? And is the “game worth the candle” in terms of rewards, whether tangible or otherwise—to borrow a phrase from an era when reading had less competition as a form of entertainment and enlightenment?
My favorite uncle, a student of art history in his youth, always affirmed the adage that, “Truth is beauty and beauty, truth.” With a smirk, he would add, “That’s all you need to know!” My truth in writing a novel of social conflict set in the notorious swing state of Ohio involves such controversial matters as abortion and prejudice based on class, race, and sexual orientation. The effort to treat these issues with a fictional type of truth earns me no love from certain quarters, including a few branches of my own family.
Was it worth it? Does publishing a book justify losing friends and alienating people? I don’t expect fame or life-altering royalty checks. So the question leads me to ponder the notion of a “writing career.” Actually, that’s been on my mind for 50 years as the highest achievement I could possibly attain! Social media reveals that this goal is shared by tens of thousands of people in the English-speaking world. But I’m not sure how most would define the term “career.”
“The Poor Poet” by Carl Spitzweg
One obvious question is whether a career must produce monetary income. Things we do, no matter how we love them, tend to be called a “hobby” if they fail to bring in at least as much money as required for ongoing practice. No doubt hobbies get an unfairly negative rap. Still, the word has a connotation of triviality or light amusement. Distraction for dilettantes: knitting today, decoupage tomorrow.
This is nothing like the attitude of most writers toward their craft. The inner voice that guides the pen (or fingers on keyboard) is an intimate part of our selfhood. Writing expresses a quality of the author’s mind that seems to embody a higher personality. Even a soul. Until we frame experience in words, we hardly know what happened or what to think. At the same time, writing is a way of reaching out to people we could never meet in our physical lives, a point of contact with humanity. Or at least a hope for contact if we succeed in finding readers.
Eventually, we couldn’t switch to another “career,” or even another “creative outlet,” if we wanted to. As writers are known to declare in moments of despond, “I’m entirely unfit to do anything else!” (Although some have done quite well, after all. Bless their hearts.)
From The TELEGRAPH, Watercolor believed to portray the Brontë sisters
Throughout history, writers have failed to earn enough money to shake a quill at. Yet many of these wound up contributing to the canon of world literature and belatedly entered the hearts of more readers than they dreamed of finding while they wrote and struggled. Among the members of this special club are Thoreau, Dickinson, Poe, Kafka, at least two of the Brontës, and John Kennedy Toole (the posthumous Pulitzer Prizewinner for A Confederacy of Dunces).
And it should never be forgotten that others have paid the ultimate price for stubbornly practicing their craft under totalitarian regimes. Not merely denied a living wage, these writers were hounded and killed for the truth of their words: Osip Mandelstam, Nikolai Gumilyov, and Víctor Jara. Still more were marginalized and persecuted: Anna Akhmatova, Theodor Kramer, Boris Pasternak, Alexander Solzhenitsyn.
Solzhenitsyn: Gulag mug shot
The PEN International Writers in Prison Committee reminds us that persecution continues around the world today. American writers may have little more to fear than being ignored and unsupported, but we share the dedication to a practice that often resembles a calling more than a career. We feel an inner drive to seek perfect self-expression despite the lack of material reward. Or reward of any kind: Praise, recognition, a place in society, even self-respect. When our work is such a profound reflection of our minds, affirmation is a persistent craving, but all may be withheld by the cruel muse. Not to mention a society with “other priorities.”
But writers persevere.
Having known a good number of aspiring authors, I feel qualified to insist that few are hoping for lifetime poverty followed by posthumous fame. In fact, few appear to give any thought to what might become the “great works” of the future. Most would like to realize a small profit on book sales, or at minimum, break close to even on their investment in materials and services such as editing, proofing, and design. Our wildest dreams may involve the sale of film rights, which might at least begin to pay down an English major’s student loans. Only those who mimic the style or genre of popular authors like Stephen King or Danielle Steel seriously imagine that their work will bring riches or renown.
Samuel Johnson would say that the world has grown crowded with blockheads. (He of the famous quote, “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.”) True, Mr. Johnson lived in an illiterate age, when the slightest skill with letters carried a premium. It’s far easier today to go broke amid a crowd of scriveners than it was in the 18th century. Nonetheless, this deters few from trying to distinguish themselves. Ourselves. So again, I ponder, why do we do it? How do we go on?
It’s hard to turn away from a true calling. What’s often termed “the writing life,” in which daily practice takes precedence, requires an almost spiritual discipline. When it may take years to “finish” a book and longer to perfect it, deferred gratification is the order of the day. But for a writer striving to publish, it’s even more essential to “sit with” your ego, in the Buddhist sense: to tolerate its flights of arrogance without succumbing to them. To use that energy while resisting its delusions of grandeur.
Why do we do it? How do we go on?
You must believe in your skills enough to keep applying words to page, but not so much as to allow specific hopes—This agent will take me! That magazine will feature me!—to outgrow the proverbial, tiny mustard seed. Disappointment is always around the corner…though fresh efforts are available as well.
And so, many of us content ourselves with a monkish satisfaction and careful management of our own expectations. A life of self-denial? To keep faith with one’s artistry, always striving in uncertainty to bring forth greater truth, is a type of loyalty to one’s humanity. To all of humanity.
Then comes the occasional word of thanks from a reader: your story touched a chord, raised a memory, sparked new ideas! Or a reviewer demonstrates a deep engagement with the work—”Yes! That’s what I was trying to say all along.” For a moment, drudgery vanishes, and the calling becomes a blessing we cannot fail to answer. The effort was worth every word: all the words on the page and the thousands more crossed out like submerged stones that let you walk on water.
~ ~ ~ ~
Many thanks to Anne Leigh Parrish for hosting this original post on her blog on 6/30/15. Anne is the author of the acclaimed novel What Is Found, What Is Lost. Visit Anne today!
Connect with Anne on Facebook.
Follow Anne on Twitter.
On Goodreads.
And on Pinterest.
~ ~ ~ ~
And thanks for visiting my blog today! Please browse the website and let me know if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions. You can reach me by leaving a comment in the box below or by clicking the Contact link at upper right (or just click here). Consider subscribing to my blog or newsletter. And stop by again soon!
In life we find so many instances to celebrate. Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations. We turn baked goods into balls of flaming death and wait for someone to blow saliva all over the treats so we can devour them and cheer on the recipient of our congratulations. I for one have celebrated many things. Birthdays of course are the number one on my list but this year I have something new to celebrate. Something that I never thought I’d be cheering myself on about. Sobriety. Yes, you heard me. I’m coming up on one solid year of being clean from narcotic pain killers. Some may say that isn’t something to celebrate, that I should be ashamed that I was ever in that sort of situation. Truth be told, I was ashamed. I didn’t want anyone knowing I had a problem. What would they think of me? Would they turn away from me because of my past? 
Another topic that my doctor and I discussed was about my future. No, not my career or anything like that. It was a discussion about “what happens if you need another surgery, or even do something like break your leg?” It was a valid question. “Sure you could try to tough it out and suffer through it, but I don’t recommend that.”
(When Miriam’s foster father, Rick, takes her back to visit her home church, Holy Redeemer Tabernacle, we see the tradition through his eyes.)
This is nothing like the attitude of most writers toward their craft. The inner voice that guides the pen (or fingers on keyboard) is an intimate part of our selfhood. Writing expresses a quality of the author’s mind that seems to embody a higher personality. Even a soul. Until we frame experience in words, we hardly know what happened or what to think. At the same time, writing is a way of reaching out to people we could never meet in our physical lives, a point of contact with humanity. Or at least a hope for contact if we succeed in finding readers.
