tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81435327684871828442024-03-14T00:59:29.009-04:00Writing the DistanceNavigating the writing process and trying to get stuff done!Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-36993137526598173892011-06-23T10:14:00.003-04:002011-06-23T11:04:20.977-04:00Zombie Flower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ6ZAEvhSx4/TgNC7MQQFFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XMIRRNUTS-E/s1600/pansy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ6ZAEvhSx4/TgNC7MQQFFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XMIRRNUTS-E/s320/pansy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Check out my Zombie Flower, back from the dead! I last planted pansies in this pot in Spring 2010. They withered from the summer heat and my general neglect. Then they got dumped on by brutal snowstorms all winter, and spit on by harsh spring rains. But this week, strangely, one has defiantly pushed up through the soil and rotting leaves to raise its head high. Mysterious! I thought pansies were annuals and weren't supposed to do that. This is one hardy pansy.<br />
<br />
This morning I saw evidence that squirrels had rummaged around the pot. They left the Zombie Flower alone. It wields an eerie power.<br />
<br />
I have to admire its pluck. If it's looking for care, it's come to the wrong place. I don't have time to water it or to deadhead its spent blossoms. Gardening is at the bottom of my list. Heck, it's not even on the paper. It's a postscript following an afterthought.<br />
<br />
It shouldn't be. I come from a big gardening family. From people who actually think it's fun to weed for hours in the baking sun, and who eschew fancy irrigation systems for the joys of wrestling a hose. My people have lush yards, front and back, tangled and perfumed with thriving plants. They can throw a stick in the ground and watch it blossom into something extraordinary. My grandfather was a salesman for the Lily Seed Company, and a passionate, gifted gardener. He passed away over ten years ago, yet my mother, who lives in his house now, still finds the odd flower cropping up amidst hers, some persistent strain he planted so many years ago making its way to the surface. <br />
<br />
I often feel I lack the gardening gene. Maybe I just lack time. Maybe when I emerge from under my novel revisions, my family obligations, other work, and the many people and things that seem to demand my attention, I too will get to see the sun and try my hand at plants. It's an intriguing idea.<br />
<br />
But more intriguing to me is the concept of a plant that thrives when untended. Kind of like an idea. Have you ever noticed how when you turn your back, or switch to some mundane task, the best ideas sneak up on you? Or a concept you had months or years ago suddenly explodes in your mind, and you have to drop everything and write it all down? This happens to me a lot lately. It's why I keep white boards on my kitchen wall. Just as I think I'm stuck in my book, I'll go rinse off some dishes, or start fixing food, and bam! -- there's the insight I was looking for. I scribble it down, my hands dripping wet. I love it when I find an idea has been quietly developing all this time, beneath the surface, and suddenly pushes through. (Yeah, I guess I'm not much of a cook either. But that's another story . . . ) <br />
<br />
So I guess I am gardening these days, in a sense. I'm trying to harvest ideas and words. But I look forward to taking a break at some point to try my hand at an actual plant.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the Zombie Flower. Maybe I'll even throw some water on it this afternoon. Or, I don't know, tomorrow. I expect it'll hang on awhile longer without my doing too much.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-83290415459521789892011-06-16T06:33:00.000-04:002011-06-16T06:33:08.840-04:00Getting to ZIt did not hit me that my son's first year of preschool was really ending until yesterday afternoon, when I took his art projects and papers out of his cubby. There it was: the letter Z. I felt the floor drop away from me as I stared at that final worksheet. My hands actually shook. I marveled at how neatly my son had traced the dots to form the Z and then how he'd copied the letter beneath it. At the smiley face sticker to reward his good work. I thought back to A, B and C back in the fall. The wobbly lines, the tentative pencil. This Z, in comparison, exuded confidence. Z may be the last letter, and underutilized, but it should never be underestimated. It's fierce. Zounds.<br />
<br />
I remember the middle of the alphabet, which hit in the dead of winter. M, N -- what awful letters. How to tell them apart? They're like close-in-age siblings who look like twins, dressing up in each others clothes, fooling people. O is Okay, I guess. But P, not so much. And Q . . . Q! That maddening little tail! And don't get me started on R -- so hard to distinguish from its cousins B and P.<br />
<br />
There were dark days this year when I didn't see how we would make it to Z. The end of the alphabet, like the spring, seemed elusive and receding. Even when W and X appeared in the cubby several weeks ago, I was in denial.<br />
<br />
But here we are at Z. Even preschoolers get to enjoy a sense of completion and a sense that goals can be attained. They made it through the alphabet. They are LEARNING TO READ AND WRITE. This is big stuff, people. This is where it all begins. <br />
<br />
I have my own receding Z to look toward right now. The next stage of my novel revisions. Back to work I go, fueled by my son's amaZing final letter, now proudly tacked above my desk. Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-50608144002688920982011-06-07T10:40:00.002-04:002011-06-07T11:19:33.686-04:00The Mysteries of an Attic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60xTLbpgLLw/Te4oKnDGUxI/AAAAAAAAADM/xrcEi_iGjhA/s1600/P1010162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60xTLbpgLLw/Te4oKnDGUxI/AAAAAAAAADM/xrcEi_iGjhA/s320/P1010162.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Here's a picture of my great-grandmother, looking on as I helped clean out my mother's attic last week. I can't tell if her expression is one of bemusement or horror. For decades, her portrait has been the silent guardian of family archives and objects, in a house that's been in my family since the 1920s. When my grandfather passed away ten years ago, my mother and stepfather moved in, having inherited not only the house but all the generations of junk -- er, I mean treasures -- stored upstairs. We then added to the heap -- uh, collection -- by moving our own boxes up there. My sister and I both packed up our entire childhoods very quickly. I'm sure we planned to sift through them. But we both moved out of state, traveled a lot, and never quite got around to it. Years passed, and dust snowed down on our boxes.<br />
<br />
For as long as I can remember, this unfinished attic has been a massive repository for our family's memories. Among the keepsakes my grandparents stored there were furniture, stacks of old letters, vintage clothing, and assorted remnants of my great-grandparents' life in Norway (a violin, an old trunk, a giant gilded Norwegian Bible, various fading photos). There was also a marvelous collection of my mother's old toys -- tin wonders from the 1940s, paper dolls with stunning wardrobes, and fun board games like <i>The Nancy Drew Mystery Game. </i>There were volumes of children's books, mostly mysteries -- all the Nancy Drews, and other gems, like <i>The Clue in Blue</i>, by long-forgotten authors.<br />
<br />
My grandfather used to take me up to the attic to choose a toy or a book to borrow. I would stare at the shelves in awe, while dust danced around us and sunlight leaked in through the one window that was not papered over. It was like time travel, being up there, and thrilling, as there was always a risk (I was warned) of falling through the floor, or tripping over boxes. The attic offered an endless scavenger hunt. I guess I thought someday my own son might experience a similar thrill, foraging for generations of old toys and books.<br />
<br />
My mother, understandably, would prefer not to be the caretaker of everyone's memorabilia. The attic is enormous, and could be refinished. The ceiling needs insulating. It was time to start dealing with stuff.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ3Kxblza7w/Te4sWC5hjcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/rhWMZUPvEKs/s1600/P1010158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ3Kxblza7w/Te4sWC5hjcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/rhWMZUPvEKs/s320/P1010158.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I dove in to the boxes and found a few gems. My old record collection. All my childhood books -- the old Nancy Drews I loved to read, both my mother's and mine, and the horse books I used to devour. I found some disappointments, too, like toys I'd hoped to pass on to my son that had not aged well. (A family of mice had lived like kings in the Fisher Price castle; I found signs of nests in the turret). I discovered bizarre things, like a high school boyfriend's skis. (Why?) Like someone's false teeth. (Whose??) The attic, as always, offered up intriguing mysteries, and items that had sifted together in bizarre juxtapositions.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wXWMAOoeNds/Te41t-wDT-I/AAAAAAAAADY/JLGQjR1x7hA/s1600/P1010163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wXWMAOoeNds/Te41t-wDT-I/AAAAAAAAADY/JLGQjR1x7hA/s320/P1010163.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Pictured above: My grandather's fedoras, hung on antlers from moose shot by my great-uncle, next to an old boyfriend's skis. Too weird).</span><br />
But the biggest mystery I found up there was the question of why we hold on to things so fiercely. I'm an archivist at heart, a lover of musty documents, ancient books, family photos, old maps. Also, as a writer, I know I tend to hang on to information -- especially books and documents and zillions of printed-out drafts -- thinking it will all become useful.<br />
<br />
The Internet and digital storage have altered this need. I also live in close proximity to six libraries. This realization made it easy to throw out a lot of things in that attic, like all my college papers and notes. Am I really going to teach Romantic Poetry someday? If so, am I really going to refer back to my college lecture notes from the 1990s?<br />
<br />
The other compelling reason to hang on to things is for the memories they evoke. Yet it felt okay, and got easier, to look at childhood mementos one last time and send them on their way. Do I really need to hang on to years of ballet costumes? A report on the Plains Indians? 3x5 index cards for an eighth grade speech I gave about wigs? (Yes, wigs. For the record, I got an A. And I'm sure the wigs can be found up there too, somewhere, if I look hard enough).<br />
<br />
I managed to whittle down my section of the attic to just two small boxes, filled mainly with juvenile writings and art projects that predate electronic storage, and my grandfather's Coast Guard cap. I salvaged some childhood books in good enough shape to enjoy with my son. Everything else went to the Goodwill or trash.<br />
<br />
For a paralyzing few seconds, as I looked at the cleared space and the dancing dust motes, I felt I had thrown out twenty years of my life. But then I felt an incredible sensation of lightness. I have my own mental attic to visit if I need to rummage around for material. And I'd rather spend my time creating new memories and experiences instead of sifting through old ones.<br />
<br />
It's easy to think our family histories and childhoods can be found in things, but I think they live on in our character and our values. And of course, in the stories we tell. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMN6_qDamDU/Te4zmthV7JI/AAAAAAAAADU/8q_dKMDlG6g/s1600/going.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMN6_qDamDU/Te4zmthV7JI/AAAAAAAAADU/8q_dKMDlG6g/s1600/going.jpg" /></a></div>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-18038236256809931152011-05-31T10:14:00.001-04:002011-05-31T10:16:48.155-04:00Bookless in SeattleFor the first time in my life, I have nothing to read. Nothing! I'm totally disoriented. I'm twitching and hallucinating and muttering to myself. I'm visiting family, 3,000 miles away from my tower of nightstand books. I came here having hastily packed, with only one half-finished novel (which I read on the plane), thinking I would just buy new books while I'm out here. Because I'm not in the Middle of Nowhere. I'm in Seattle. A reading city, bursting with incredible bookstores.<br />
<br />
But my time during bookstore hours has been taken up with family activities over Memorial Day weekend. My time has not been my own. I did orbit <a href="http://www.thirdplacebooks.com/node">Third Place Books</a> at a farmers market on Sunday, but had to help my parents carry vegetables. We had walked to the market, and had a big dinner to cook. I cast longing looks at the bookstore and experienced chest pains as I walked away. <i>Radishes? Who cares about radishes? I am out of reading material, people! </i><br />
<br />
I could have borrowed a book from my parents, but we have different tastes in reading (<i>Death Begins in the Colon</i> just isn't calling out to me right now for some reason). Besides, it's a new book I'm craving. An uncreased cover. The crack of a spine as I turn to page one.<br />
<br />
I've never been in this situation. When I pack for a trip, I'm more likely to throw in an extra book than an extra shirt. I'll wear the wrong type of footwear all week but have an ample layer of words. Even as a kid, I'd look forward to picking out my special "airplane books" so I'd never be caught without reading material. Maybe it's a habit I picked up from my grandmother, who never went anywhere without a paperback mystery in a neat paper bag.<br />
<br />
Yet here I am. Inexplicably bookless. I'm starting to understand the appeal of a Kindle.<br />
<br />
I awakened early today, groping for a book that was not there. I looked at the clock. Three hours till the nearest bookstore opens. Could I dash there before visiting my grandmother? Squeeze in a book run before picking up my rental car and heading over to see my mother? One thing I love about my hometown is the abundance of drive-through coffee joints. Why don't we have 24-hour drive-through bookstores? (The Kindle. I know, I know. I'll think about it).<br />
<br />
One hour and forty-two minutes until the nearest bookstore opens. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-64671618405628611582011-05-26T11:25:00.002-04:002011-05-26T11:38:44.580-04:00Shaking Up My Writing LifeFor many years, I had no hobbies. Not a one. I pursued work, grad school, and, above all, writing, with gritty determination, leaving little time for anything else. I lived on little sleep, piled on the freelance work, and was generally unpleasant to be around. Around 30, I realized my life was way out of balance. I started carving out time for hobbies and recreation. Took up yoga. Tried knitting. (Which was hopeless -- sorry, Mom). Went back to ballet for a bit. Took up long distance bicycling with my husband and even did a couple of 200-mile charity fundraiser rides.<br />
<br />
I've always been so stingy with my writing time, but I've come to find that devoting even two hours a week to something else, something that does not involve staring at a computer screen, is a wise investment. It gives me more stamina for sitting at a desk. I also encounter people who are not in my usual orbit. And when I leave my daily routine to become totally immersed in something else, my brain shakes loose new ideas. <br />
<br />
A year ago, I found a new activity that made my heart soar: taiko drumming. A combination of martial arts, dance, voice, and percussion -- with a little Japanese language thrown in -- taiko is like taking five classes in one. It's also strangely addictive.<br />
<br />
I attend the class at great inconvenience. The class meets on my husband's one late night at work. I have to arrange a complex trapeze act with a babysitter to cover the lag time, which also means added expense. I am frequently late or must miss classes due to competing demands on the home front. Yet I've kept at it, with the following thought process: "I just want to be strong enough to drum for twenty minutes straight. Then I'll be happy." Then it was: "I just want to learn the song <i>Kokyo</i>. Then I'll be happy." Then: "I just want to play in the winter concert. Then I'll bow out." Then: "I just want to learn this really cool, complex song, <i>Hiryu Sandan Geishi</i>. THEN, I swear, I'll hang up my <i>bachi</i> -- my drumsticks -- and retire, because this Tuesday night thing is a HUGE PAIN."<br />
<br />
No can do. I just performed <i>Hiryu Sandan Geishi</i> with my class, in my second show, "Spring Thunder," and I'm still giddy over the fact that I successfully did this, despite missing some classes this winter and catching endless illnesses from my preschooler. And good news: the instructor said I can move up to a more advanced class this summer. This new schedule will solve my babysitting problems. But I'm also thrilled to move up because I watch the Styles class with awe, marveling at all they can do: the tricks and tosses with their <i>bachi,</i> their stamina, their energy. That little voice in me is still whispering. "I just want to take one session of the Styles class. Then I'll be happy!" Yeah, right.<br />
<br />
Here are a few pictures from the Spring Thunder performance. (I'm on the right, front row).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ouQoCFM_Mk/Td5uPIFajPI/AAAAAAAAADA/bdG1t0CxQOU/s1600/IMG_0678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ouQoCFM_Mk/Td5uPIFajPI/AAAAAAAAADA/bdG1t0CxQOU/s320/IMG_0678.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-45cEq6JGNDA/Td5u5MJKQmI/AAAAAAAAADE/YbqjZnItF8E/s1600/IMG_0685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-45cEq6JGNDA/Td5u5MJKQmI/AAAAAAAAADE/YbqjZnItF8E/s320/IMG_0685.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WMrvZls7brs/Td5vgRdFODI/AAAAAAAAADI/hk-7SvUoCdA/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WMrvZls7brs/Td5vgRdFODI/AAAAAAAAADI/hk-7SvUoCdA/s320/IMG_0680.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I think one big reason taiko works for me is that it's an area of my life where I can see progress. If I show up, if I practice, if I commit to it, I get better. I'm sure this mentality translates to my writing too, but with drumming it's so tangible. If you miss a note, it's obvious. When you hit the drum right, it sings.<br />
<br />
Also, I get to pretend I'm a real musician. Even better, I get to hang out with some <i>truly amazing</i> musicians, like the members of <a href="http://onetaiko.org/index.shtml">Odaiko New England</a>, pictured below as they break in a brand new <i>odaiko</i> (drum):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HShXFaGEo4s/Td5rpmWCNzI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VglWTKc8RyA/s1600/IMG_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HShXFaGEo4s/Td5rpmWCNzI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VglWTKc8RyA/s320/IMG_0635.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
If you're in the Boston area, Odaiko New England can be seen performing next at a benefit concert with two other local taiko groups on Saturday, June 4. The event, <a href="http://sites.google.com/site/artistsforjapanboston2011/home">Artists for Japan</a>, will support the Japanese Disaster Relief Fund and Japan Animal Rescue and Support. I'll be out of town, but drumming along with them in spirit! (Saturday, June 4, 2:30-5:30, Harvard-Epworth United Methodist Church, 1555 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge).Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-78433442366439703912011-05-16T10:46:00.000-04:002011-05-16T10:46:47.897-04:00NESCBWI 2011: A gem of a conference!Spring brings showers -- for me, showers of new information and new friends and contacts. It's conference season, the time of year I like to put on actual clothes (as opposed to the pajamas I work in most days) and emerge from my cave. In years past, I attended teacher's and textbook writer's conferences; now, on a hiatus from teaching, I try to attend more events for creative writers. Earlier this month I attended Grub Street's Muse and the Marketplace, and this weekend I went to the <a href="http://www.nescbwi.org/">NESCBWI</a> conference for the first time. <br />
<br />
I'm relatively new to <a href="http://www.scbwi.org/">SCBWI</a> (the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) and completely new to NESCBWI (the New England chapter). Why did I wait so long to join this amazing organization? I don't know. Maybe I just found the acronym intimidating, or had trouble typing and saying it. Now, after this weekend, it rolls off my tongue. I cannot say enough wonderful things about this group. It was exciting to spend the weekend in the company of 500+ attendees who are all passionate about children's fiction. <br />
<br />
I could only attend two out of three days, due to a schedule conflict with a taiko drumming performance I was in (more on that later this week) and a desire to not completely abandon my child all weekend. Not staying on site also meant an hour's commute to Fitchburg each way. But my long hours on the road were completely worth it. Highlights included:<br />
<ul><li>A workshop with <a href="http://www.janetsfox.com/publications.php">Janet Fox</a> on "Elusive Elision" -- deciding when to hold back and when to reveal -- a craft issue I thought about a lot during my last novel revision. Extremely useful. </li>
<li> A workshop with <a href="http://www.raabassociates.com/">Susan Raab</a> on promotion strategies and finding your marketing voice. </li>
<li>A panel discussion with <a href="http://www.tonyabbottbooks.com/">Tony Abbott</a>, <a href="http://www.elisebroach.com/">Elise Broach</a>, and <a href="http://www.norabaskin.com/">Nora Baskin</a> on sustaining a long-term career as a children's author.</li>
<li>A sparkling discussion on multicultural fiction, with authors and illustrators of picture books, MG books, and YA books.</li>
</ul>I also met up with four fellow <a href="http://apocalypsies.blogspot.com/">Apocalypsies</a> (2012 kidlit debut authors) for lots of shop-talk, and greatly enjoyed getting to know them in person. Email's great and all, but there's no substitute for a good old-fashioned face-to-face conversation. And it's always so great to meet other writers and hear about where they are on this journey.<br />
<br />
There are lots of good people working hard to write and sell top-notch books for children. The seriousness of attendees struck me the most. Yes, we're all writing for children, and <i>maybe</i> (I thought, on occasion) we could lighten up at times. But I think we all have this great hunger for information on craft and promotion. When we get to a conference like this, we're greedy. We don't want to waste a minute. We want to write great books. We want to get them into the hands of readers. It's a fun job, and a serious business.<br />
<br />
I'll be back next year at this gem of a conference, hopefully presenting with some colleagues!Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-31452467817126363352011-05-02T06:13:00.003-04:002011-05-02T14:15:00.245-04:00Inspiration at the Muse and the MarketplaceThis weekend I attended my favorite writer's conference: <a href="http://www.grubstreet.org/">Grub Street</a>'s <a href="http://www.grubstreet.org/index.php?id=173">Muse and the Marketplace</a>, at the Boston Park Plaza Hotel. I've been going to this conference since its earliest days, when it was a simple one-day affair. Now it's exploded into a jam-packed two-day event that draws attendees from all over the country and attracts high-profile keynote speakers such as <a href="http://www.annpatchett.com/">Ann Patchett</a>, <a href="http://chuckpalahniuk.net/">Chuck Pahlaniuk</a>, <a href="http://us.macmillan.com/author/jonathanfranzen">Jonathan Franzen</a>, and, this year, one of my all-time favorite authors, <a href="http://www.public.asu.edu/%7Ercarlson/">Ron Carlson</a>. I love how the conference is true to its name, devoting equal attention to matters of the Muse (sessions focused on craft and inspiration) and the Marketplace (everything from acquiring an agent to promoting your published book).<br />
<br />
The conference was more of a whirlwind for me than before as I could only attend on one day. I was a sponge during sessions, drinking in all the wisdom I could from workshop leaders and panelists, and then rather frantically trying to connect with old friends and meet people between sessions or bites of food. <br />
<br />
Among the many highlights of the day:<br />
<ul><li>Kidlit author <a href="http://www.benhwinters.com/">Ben Winters</a> led an energetic workshop on "Writing Funny for Young Readers." We analyzed a number of passages from successful and classic kids' books (<i>Tom Sawyer, Anastasia Krupnik, Beezus and Ramona</i>, among others) to see how tone, character, and conflicts can be vehicles for humor, and vice versa. We also brainstormed what's funny for kids, and how to be consistent. Some of the passages we looked at were from books I hadn't read since childhood, but instantly remembered -- and now, looking back through an analytical lens, could see why I loved them, what made them sing.The workshop was MG (middle grade) focused, and did not really get into YA (young adult) humor, so I'll puzzle over humor and the older market on my own time.</li>
<li>Acclaimed author <a href="http://www.randysusanmeyers.com/">Randy Susan Meyers</a> led a panel discussion with an in-house publicist and a freelance publicist to discuss how authors might leverage both to promote their books. I'm not yet sure if I'd hire an outside publicist, mainly due to cost, but I took away a number of tips for working with publicists when the time comes, and gained a new appreciation for the power of having a team of people involved in promoting your book -- and the importance of communicating well with that team. (Plus, if you have never heard Randy speak, you must drop everything and get to one of her book readings or talks ASAP. She is that rare combination of brilliant and funny. She could talk about anything -- publicity, her novel, broccoli -- and I would go hear her).</li>
<li><a href="http://www.public.asu.edu/%7Ercarlson/">Ron Carlson</a> gave an inspiring keynote speech. I had chills when he took the stage; I own every book of short stories this guy has written. (I've read one of his novels, but prefer his stories for some reason). I've been recommending his book on craft, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ron-Carlson-Writes-Story/dp/1555974775"><i>Ron Carlson Writes a Story</i></a>, for years, and it was great to hear him give voice to some of the ideas expressed there, such as the need for the writer to "stay in the room" -- not to leave the room, desk, or scene when the going gets tough, because the best material usually arises when you stay and proceed ahead into the unknown, toward doubt. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.jennablum.com/">Jenna Blum</a>, <a href="http://www.ethangilsdorf.com/">Ethan Gilsdorf,</a> and <a href="http://www.jonpapernick.com/">Jonathan Papernick</a> gave a rousing "Hour of Power" talk at the end of the day: Guerilla Book Promotion. All three have engaged in innovative strategies to promote their own books. Jenna has visited countless bookclubs and chases tornadoes. Ethan scheduled his own book tour and finds unique book-related venues at which he can speak or give workshops. Jonathan (a.k.a. "Papernick the Book Peddler") hand-sells his books from a pushcart in New York City and appears at Farmers Markets (where, as he put it, he doesn't have to compete with the likes of Jonathan Franzen; he's just competing with vegetables). </li>
</ul>A full day, which I'm grateful I could enjoy. I'm ready to hit the desk again this week and finish Phase One of my revision. As always after the Muse, I'm in awe of how many writers come to conferences, how many of us are engaged in this zany and wonderful pursuit of putting words on a blank page, and how book culture and reading are alive and well.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-41944511126489862202011-04-30T08:50:00.000-04:002011-04-30T08:50:37.978-04:00Sanity-Saving Revision StrategiesI'm still buried in revisions, and am working overtime today (whatever "overtime" means for writers) so I can take tomorrow off and attend Grub Street's <a href="http://www.grubstreet.org/index.php?id=173">Muse and the Marketplace</a> conference here in Boston. But as promised, here are some devices and strategies that have been helping me during this phase of revision:<br />
<br />
<b>Three Low-Tech Devices To Aid Revision:</b><br />
<br />
1. <b>A large dry-erase calendar.</b> Staples carries all sizes of white boards with blank calendar boxes; you can put in your own dates and change them as needed. I'm altering the time frame of my novel somewhat, as well as the sequence of events and revelations, so it's great to play around with all this on a calendar before making a mess of the manuscript. I know you can play around with dates and calendars on a computer too, but having key events written on a big, physical calendar really helps me. I can see them at all times, and I can move events around so easily with the dry erase markers. I also have events color coded: major plot events in green, subplot events in blue. Things I'm not sure about, or which are moving around still, in red. Because the main events in my story take place over a span of just a few weeks, this calendar system works for me. I'm not sure what I'd do if I were dealing with a larger span of time. Buy several boards?<br />
<br />
2.<b>Post-It Notes</b>. I am chewing through these -- I've gone through three big packages already. The square ones are just the right size for writing down fragments of ideas, questions, reminders, or small issues to go back and fix. I also flag passages of the novel that I'm going to paste or incorporate somewhere else, so I don't lose them. I stick them in the hard copy of my manuscript. When I've dealt with them, I just throw them out, which is very satisfying. Right now these are working better for me than keeping a log of issues or ideas in a notebook; I simply don't have time to go wading through lots of handwritten pages. Again, having tangible reminders to work with seems to work better for me than notes or comments within the Word document. It cuts down on time I spend endlessly scrolling through the document.<br />
<br />
3.<b>A three-ring binder</b>. I have the hard copy of the manuscript, with my handwritten notes and my abundance of post-it notes, punched into a binder so I can flip through it or reread it like a book. It travels with me in the car and I can look through it or read parts of it at odd times.<br />
<br />
<b>Two Strategies for Tracking Changes:</b><br />
<br />
1. <b>A chapter-by-chapter chart. </b>I created a simple table in Word. For each chapter, I log the setting, the time frame, the key characters, and questions that I want the reader to have in mind by the end of the chapter. With the questions, I include questions about the main mystery plot ("Will the gangsters catch up with them?") as well as the subplot ("Will Edge call Violet?") I code the subplot questions in blue. This chart helps me see at a glance if I'm varying my locations, moving forward in time clearly or quickly enough, giving various characters adequate time on stage, and weaving the subplot through. The questions at the end of this chapter also help me determine if a chapter is too skimpy or full. If I have few or no questions arising, I haven't added to the plot enough. If I have too many, the chapter may have too much information -- maybe it needs to become two separate chapters or some developments need to move. By the end of the novel, all of these questions should have been answered somewhere. If not, I have loose ends to tie up.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Placeholders.</b> Within the manuscript, I frequently type in ALL CAPS to indicate the type of information I need to redistribute or add somewhere. If I don't have the time or energy to do so, or if I have a problem I need to think through, these are places I can return to later, I can easily see where I need to return when I'm reading through the manuscript. This way, I don't feel like I get bogged down very often. I'm trying to move forward as much as I can, and go back to trouble spots and rough patches when my mind is most fresh.<br />
<br />
<b>Three Psychological Strategies:</b><br />
<br />
<b>1. Remain calm</b>. I try to deal with just a chapter or two a day; if I can do more, great. Thinking of the novel as a whole, or deadlines, would just make me freak out.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Eat, sleep, exercise</b>. I try to do one of those things every day!<br />
<br />
<b>3. Eat your kid's Easter candy</b>. Keep that basket right by you. Enough said.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-61166969022824465562011-04-22T13:40:00.002-04:002011-04-22T13:51:53.746-04:00When art and life collide<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rIVXjuo94zE/TbG3tm-pJmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/lEATtLFARec/s1600/damage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rIVXjuo94zE/TbG3tm-pJmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/lEATtLFARec/s320/damage.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Occasionally, art and life collide. Freaky coincidences happen. Sometimes that's cool. But not when it involves a rock flying into your house at 2 am. Which is almost exactly what happens to some characters in the novel I'm busy revising. And which is exactly what happened to me last night. <br />
<br />
I've written a mystery, and plenty of mysterious things happen in my plot. I've chortled over clever plot twists and anguished over plot-holes. I've had fun ramping up suspense and having spooky things happen around my main character, especially in the beginning of the novel. Among the fictional events that take place: an art heist, involving a rock hurled through a window, and a house hit by vandals, also involving a rock through a window.<br />
<br />
The rock that flew out of fiction and through my actual window (which may cost a real sum of around $1,000 to repair) was nothing to chuckle over. It scared me to death. My husband and I awoke to a crashing sound, which, groggily, I assumed was a gigantic bin of my son's Legos capsizing downstairs. After a few minutes I decided to go pick them up, since our cat has a plastic obsession and I didn't want her eating the little ones. Only when I got downstairs did it occur to me: my son does not own a gigantic bin of Legos.<br />
<br />
Indeed, his tiny tray of Legos was intact. I wandered into the playroom (an attached sunroom, all windows) to see what might have fallen from a shelf. And saw the rock. And the mangled screen. And the jagged shards of glass glinting in the moonlight, in the window frame and all over the floor. And the cat staring at me with wide yellow eyes.<br />
<br />
My husband called the police, who promised to send someone over. By 2:40 am, no police had arrived. It was a tense forty minutes. Outside has never looked so dark. Were we being watched? Had we been targeted for some reason? (Paranoia: did someone read a recycled draft of my novel in the trash and decide to reenact the very scene I was revising?) My husband switched on the TV, and everything on it seemed to be about violence or crime. We called the police again. They said we were one of eight such incidents and they were slow in coming over. Somewhat relieved that we were the victim of some sort of spree, probably not a single target, we decided to have them come check it out in the morning, and we went to bed.<br />
<br />
And did not sleep. I had a taste of real fear, the emotion I was trying to fabricate in my characters but hadn't exactly nailed. I couldn't stop picturing that big ugly rock sitting on the white rug in my son's playroom, like a ghastly intruder with body odor and bad breath. Oddly, a part of me detached -- my writerly mind -- and thought, <i>I have to get to my computer and write all this down! This so relates to my book!</i> But I didn't really feel like sitting by a window.<br />
<br />
In the harsh morning light, I didn't feel scared. I felt violated. Glass frosted my son's bookshelf and toys. His favorite toy, a big construction crane, had been broken. He burst into tears. We had to explain to a four-year-old how this had happened. He didn't buy our story about the big wind blowing the window out, especially when he saw the rock on the floor. Later, when we found an abandoned skateboard in the bushes by the window and a policewoman carted it away for fingerprinting, he seemed to put the two together. "I think a big mean boy on a skateboard threw that big rock into my playroom and broke our house!" he exclaimed.<br />
<br />
I felt outraged. A little part of his innocence was shattered. He now knew he lived in a world in which a rock could come hurtling through a window.<br />
<br />
Information unfolded throughout the day. We were one of 19 or more such incidents that took place in the middle of the night. Likely kids on a spree, bored at the tail end of Spring Break. But not the kind of thing you usually find happening in our pleasant, quiet, suburban town. A mystery. A real one. And it wasn't very fun.<br />
<br />
The rock through my window made me think about how lucky we are that it wasn't a worse situation. No one got hurt. The window can be replaced. The lamp and toys can be replaced. There are more violent and terrifying events in mysteries, both fictional and real. I do now have a glimmer of insight into how the victim of a crime would feel, and I will write with even more empathy going forward. I will endeavor to capture the conflicting emotions I felt, and portray the sense of fear and violation more accurately. Especially the after-effects of the crime. The way the emotions return throughout the day. Or the way you drag the event around you like a soiled blanket, and trip over it from time to time. The way you dread the day ending because the dark will return and you won't feel as safe as you did before. The way you'll check on your child twice.<br />
<br />
Writing can generate empathy. So can reading. I hope the young vandals who went on this senseless spree pick up a book sometime and get a little empathy of their own.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3d4x6IzRztE/TbHAFBv5ZNI/AAAAAAAAAC4/VnsWxUJYnvU/s1600/damage+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3d4x6IzRztE/TbHAFBv5ZNI/AAAAAAAAAC4/VnsWxUJYnvU/s320/damage+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-6403159071420618322011-04-21T18:16:00.001-04:002011-04-21T18:17:24.492-04:00Buried in paper, back next week!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C-K00i0QA_c/TbCr-meGvgI/AAAAAAAAACw/BIYWqAXepqk/s1600/Revision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C-K00i0QA_c/TbCr-meGvgI/AAAAAAAAACw/BIYWqAXepqk/s320/Revision.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I'm revising, revising, revising. I'll be back next week with three handy and low-tech revision tips that so far seem to be working. Meanwhile, here's a picture of my desk. It's under there somewhere. So am I.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-6790350779873388382011-04-15T16:59:00.000-04:002011-04-15T16:59:43.634-04:00Revision Rest StopMy writing metaphors frequently shift, but I find it's always useful to have a metaphor, something to visualize. Some days it's construction. I'm building a house, or wiring it, or setting up scaffolding, or simply running through the framework with my hard hat on, screaming as debris falls. Often my metaphors have to do with traveling, running, walking, or hiking. An activity with an end point. (Ideally not the "forest walk" setting on the treadmill, which burns calories but really takes me nowhere, and ideally not a track, which just keeps me circling back to the beginning. When I keep revising Chapter One, or page one, or paragraph one, I know I'm on the track metaphor and need to get off, fast).<br />
<br />
I think on this revision of my novel -- which is large-scale -- I'm hiking. Sometimes I stoop to pick litter off the path. Mostly I move forward at a slow and steady pace. I think there is an end point, and the promise of a vista. I hope it's not like a mountain I once hiked in the San Juan Islands, where a long, arduous, uphill climb of switchback turns took me to a great view of mountains, Canada . . . and the parking lot, where all the cars stopped after their relaxing drive up the same mountain.<br />
<br />
This is the kind of hike that requires a steady pace, some stamina, and good footwear. But today I'm at a rest stop and can see how far I've come. I've revised to approximately the halfway point. I'm not always sure what "halfway" means -- it might change from day to day. It's an approximate page number of the manuscript, halfway, but it's also a feeling. I know I have work ahead, but I have done a lot of the heavy work already by improving the beginning, Part One and a bit beyond that. Today I just felt it, strongly. <i>This is halfway.</i><br />
<br />
Like a hiker, I'm conserving energy. In this case, creative energy. Blogging is minimal, and not terribly creative. Other time spent on social media is also extremely limited, just enough to show I'm alive and maintain some contact with friends and the world. My comments are neither witty nor clever. Emails? They're reduced to telegraphic one-liners. Come to think of it, I'm not even fun to talk to right now. Also, I had to send some thank-you notes the other day, and was thrilled to find a box of cards that simply said the words for me. <br />
<br />
It's a pretty good rest stop, this one, with nice views both up and down. Fresh water, clean bathrooms, a snack bar. I'm a bit daunted by the distance remaining, and the altitude ahead, but I know I've already gotten through the parts of this revision that scared me most. Wish I could say it's all downhill from here. It's definitely uphill. But I still hope the rest will go faster. <br />
<br />
I will take the weekend off, read over what I've done so far. I'll adjust my backpack straps and fix the blister on my foot. I will rest, eat, and have some conversations that involve more than one-word utterances. And I'll hit the trail again first thing Monday. I used to be a binge writer. Now it's slow and steady, in whatever time I can grab. Next rest stop: approximately 100 pages ahead. I'll get there.<br />
<br />
<i>At what point do you take breaks from a creative project? Does your resting point change if it's a new work in progress, a revision, or an edit? How do you replenish yourself and find the strength to go on?</i>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-17813474910535995722011-04-07T08:35:00.000-04:002011-04-07T08:35:32.153-04:00Flotsam and JetsamCleaning is the first thing to neglect when I'm on a writing or revising binge, as I am these days. For the sake of my family's safety and sanity, I keep a semblance of order by scooping up clutter and throwing it into boxes or bags, to be sorted at some future date. Lately I've been looking at these boxes and bags in horror, wondering when I'll ever have time to deal with them, hoping I don't someday appear on the TV show "Hoarders." But I'm trying to reframe the way I look at this stuff. I've realized that all the strange odds and ends I'm accumulating, the flotsam and jetsam of my daily life, might make for fun writing prompts some day. (Assuming I someday finish my edits, and that my son stops getting these weekly colds and ear infections, and that I will one day write something fresh again). <br />
<br />
So today I'm picking a random bag -- which happens to be my "purse" -- and listing some of its contents, for a future writing exercise. At the very least, it's a fun exercise in noticing details, and makes me feel like my clutter-gathering is actually productive. Feel free to swipe any of these bizarre items if you are so inspired:<br />
<br />
1. A one-inch foundational layer of spilled pretzel sticks. (My son loves these pretzel snack bags for the car, but never finishes a bag. I put them in my purse. They spill. We open another bag. The cycle continues).<br />
<br />
2. A toy double-decker bus from London. (Not that I actually went to London. It was a gift. For the pretzel guy -- see item #1).<br />
<br />
3. A silver dinner fork, nicely weighted, from Brasserie Jo, a hip bistro in downtown Boston where my husband and I ate a few weeks ago. Disturbingly, I have no memory of dropping a fork in my bag, nor does he. (An excellent writing prompt here . . . does it contain DNA evidence for some crime, and was it planted in my bag? Or am I prematurely embarking on an elderly person's penchant for stealing cutlery from restaurants? What's next -- dinner rolls wrapped up in napkins?) (More disturbingly, I found the fork several weeks ago, and then . . . PUT IT BACK IN THE PURSE. Oh my God. Who does that??)<br />
<br />
4. A prescription of Paxil for my cat.<br />
<br />
5. Three mismatched mittens. (From three little kittens?)<br />
<br />
6. Six straws from Starbucks. (Not really straws. They are Units of Time. My son can sometimes ride out a long wait in a line by playing with straws. However, they do devalue).<br />
<br />
7. Four hand sanitizers -- gels and sprays. (Note: none worked this winter).<br />
<br />
8. Coupon for the Big Apple Circus. (Good times!)<br />
<br />
9. Small bag of Halloween candy. (Bribe for pediatrician office yesterday).<br />
<br />
10. Five receipts with notes for my novel revision scrawled on the back. (Valuable). <br />
<br />
Individually, any of these items could become the seed of a story.<br />
<br />
Collectively, these things give a pretty accurate snapshot of my personality and life these days. I keep a semblance of order, but it's illusory and temporary -- chaos threatens to erupt from the neat-looking boxes and bags. I have zero spare time, and am desperate for any snatch of time I can grab. I spend much of my time caring for a small child and facilitating a distressed cat, but fight to keep my identity as an individual person and as a writer. I crave a classier lifestyle at times (Brasserie Jo, London) but don't always get there (I'll be using that Big Apple Circus coupon next week).<br />
<br />
What's in your bag? What do the tiny, random objects from your daily life say about you, or about a possible character?Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-5920479991124280482011-03-29T06:30:00.004-04:002011-03-29T07:14:15.914-04:00My Blog's First Quarterly Perfomance ReviewI've had my blog up for three months now, so it feels like a good time to sit down and have our first quarterly review.<br />
<br />
<b>Me: </b>Hi, Blog. Good to see you. Please, have a seat. <br />
<b>Blog: </b>Thank you. <br />
<b>Me: </b>So, Blog, I see you've acquired a few followers -- that's fantastic! <br />
<b>Blog: </b>Thanks. I'm really grateful to have some loyal readers. With so many blogs competing for attention, who on earth has time to read one more thing? Especially yet another blog about writing and publishing? I'm honored. Really.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Do you think you might acquire more readers if you commented on other people's blogs?<br />
<b>Blog: </b>I do comment on other blogs, but as far as I can tell, that hasn't led people to follow mine. Anyway, when I comment on other blogs, it's not to gain readers or followers, but to share a thought I have about someone else's thoughtfully-written piece. That community engagement in the blogosphere, which I thought would be draining, has actually been quite fun. <br />
<b>Me:</b> Let's talk schedule, Blog. It seems you're posting roughly two entries a week, but not on consistent days. And there are a couple weeks where you skipped out and only posted one thing. Oh, and last week? You linked to a guest blog post somewhere else. Technically, that's moonlighting. You shouldn't shirk you duties here and go blog elsewhere.<br />
<b>Blog: </b>I have to be honest. Blogging is tough. I never realized how much work blogging can be. My hat's off to those bloggers who post more often. And write other things. And have day jobs. I'm sorry about the link to a guest post last week. You're right. Any guest posting I do will be on top of my regular posts, not a substitute. Won't happen again.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Promise?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> Yep.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Okay. What makes blogging so much work, or so time-consuming? Is it thinking of topics? Procrastination? Be honest.<br />
<b>Blog:</b> I have a handy list of possible topics. Several pages worth. I think I have trouble writing concisely. And I'm an essayist at heart. It's sometimes a challenge to write fewer than 250 words. If I get an idea, I like to follow it for awhile. I forget that people don't necessarily want to read lengthy pieces on a computer screen. Especially if they're following 50 other blogs.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Is that something you think you can work on? Writing more concisely?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> Sure. Maybe some of my longer entries can be broken up into two parts. Maybe I can save some of my meatier ideas for full-length essays and find a different forum for those. That way readers won't get overwhelmed, or look at my long, long posts and freak out.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Good ideas. Tell me, which topics have been most enjoyable for you to write about?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> I've done three book reviews, and I really liked doing them. They took some time, but the process forced me to think more carefully about what I'd read. And I like the idea of introducing some writers to people who might not have heard of them. I have a whole new appreciation for what serious book bloggers do.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Will you be doing more book reviews then?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> I think I'll strive for one a month. Only adult or nonfiction titles, though. I feel it's a conflict of interest for a YA author to review YA titles. I'll leave that to the YA review pros. But if I read something I feel strongly about in another genre, for another market -- and I feel it could use a wider audience -- I'll review it.<br />
<b>Me: </b> Will you be blogging more about the publishing process as the novel gets closer to publication?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> You know, I thought I'd say more about that journey, but I've discovered I'm kind of private about a lot of the details. I also can't fathom why people would be interested in reading about how many words I cut today, or what scenes I rearranged. And I think there's some magic to the book-making process that should be preserved for readers. Just my personal opinion and preference. But I look forward to sharing some more aspects of the process when I get closer to the date. Like a cover design, or a specific publication date. I'm sure I'll be a bit more forthcoming when the heavy editing process is over.<br />
<b>Me: </b>If blogging is time-consuming, and you don't, let's be honest, have hundreds of readers, what keeps you going?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> I have perfectionist tendencies. Knowing I have to post roughly twice a week gets me past that. Blogging gives me a sense of accomplishment. Posting something, even a couple of paragraphs, is an accomplishment, when I could be doing so many other things, like organizing my stacks of paper, or cleaning up after my cat. Blogging keeps my writing skills sharp, and helps me keep working on that concise writing goal of mine. And finally, blogging gives me a feeling of control and immediate gratification. Publishing is a slow process, whether it's an article or a novel. There are rounds of editing. There is a lot of waiting. When I feel impatient, I just post a blog entry and I feel I've gotten some words written and out into the world. It's nice.<br />
<b>Me: </b>That's great to hear. So keep it up, and we'll have another review in three months.<br />
<b>Blog: </b>Looking forward to it. One question.<br />
<b>Me: </b> Yes?<br />
<b>Blog:</b> Can I get a raise?<br />
<b>Me: </b>Seriously? You just started.<br />
<b>Blog:</b> Blogging's also made me more assertive. I had to ask. I mean, what have I got to lose?<br />
<b>Me: </b>Let me think about it. We'll talk in three months.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-36129125517306279602011-03-25T07:38:00.000-04:002011-03-25T07:38:45.600-04:00Guest blogging at Year of AuditionsI'm playing hooky from my blog today, and guest posting at YA author Stasia Kehoe's <a href="http://www.ayearofauditions.blogspot.com/">YEAR OF AUDITIONS</a>. What happened when a movie company descended up on my high school? Come journey with me back to 1988, big hair, and a little rock n roll musical that dared to dream!Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-30900449285824745992011-03-21T10:59:00.000-04:002011-03-21T10:59:23.563-04:00Tornado Siren: Taking the ebook world by storm!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XADS_EusmA4/TWb4en_aYVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/NkC946vGqZE/s1600/TornadoSirennookcover1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XADS_EusmA4/TWb4en_aYVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/NkC946vGqZE/s320/TornadoSirennookcover1.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><br />
The title of today's post expresses my great hope for this thrilling and thoughtful novel. The exciting whirlwind of ebook publishing now brings us <a href="http://ww.tornado-siren.com/">TORNADO SIREN</a>, by <a href="http://www.gabridge.com/">Patrick Gabridge</a>. Originally published by <a href="http://www.behlerpublications.com/">Behler Publications</a> in 2005, it has just been re-released as an ebook, and is now available for Kindle, Nook, and other formats (via <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/42708">Smashwords</a>). In fact, Smashwords featured it as a special promotion for "Read an e-Book Week" earlier this month. <br />
<br />
I'm a big fan of contemporary, realistic fiction, and make only occasional forays into the realm of the paranormal. In that respect, TORNADO SIREN is the perfect read for me. The book feels grounded in reality, as the day-to-day work of tornado researcher Victoria Thomas is described with fascinating precision. Victoria's personal issues, as a busy, thirty-something scientist with little time for relationships, also feel quite real and compelling. And the details of life during and after a tornado are vividly painted. I've never seen a tornado in real life, but I could really feel the terror of watching a storm approach, or hiding while a storm rages, or waiting for help after being buried in rubble. So there are numerous anchors to reality in the novel, but the tornadoes whose path of destruction Victoria charts -- and the mysterious man and his dog who sometimes accompany them -- quickly swept me away into a highly imaginative storyline. <br />
<br />
Ben Fulgar and his dog, Kimat, seem otherwordly as they defy the rules of nature. How can they walk away from the most violent storms, unscathed? How can they have existed for centuries yet fail to show signs of age? Yet the man and his dog also appear to be of the earth itself, gaining a strange power from the storms that seem to seek them. Victoria finds her rational perspective challenged as she first follows their tracks, and then accompanies Ben and his dog on a long trek across Kansas. Seeking answers, she finds love. However, more complications follow, including the logistical and moral dilemmas of how to be with a man who lives outside the basic rules of society and who attracts such destruction. (Sure, any relationship has its challenges, but try dating someone who needs to sleep on the bare earth instead of a bed. Or who lures a tangle of deadly twisters directly to his doorstep). <br />
<br />
Gabridge is both a novelist and a playwright, and he brings to this novel the playwright's ear for great dialogue and a talent for careful pacing. He does not shy away from emotional scenes, and the romance storyline is poignant. The book is both thoughtful and thrilling, combining a rational scientist's concept of reality with the energy and danger of deadly storms. It's a quick read, making it especially suitable, I think, for an ebook format. Read TORNADO SIREN. Get swept away. Enjoy the ride.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-21727234128238612122011-03-15T10:16:00.004-04:002011-03-21T11:51:17.596-04:00The Power of Words: Writers Helping JapanA week ago I was hanging out in NYC, visiting my favorite Japanese haunts, nibbling Japanese pastries with my editors at Viking. Inspired by my trip and my editorial meeting, eager to travel to Japan through my novel, I plunged into my revisions. And then Japan plunged into disaster.<br />
<br />
For awhile I toggled back and forth between two screens: my Word doc and online news reports. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing on the news. The fictional dream began to recede. My novel began to feel silly. Teen girls chasing gangsters and drawing manga? Good grief. Who cares? In the real Japan, families were being rent apart. Lives were being lost. Nuclear power plants were exploding and leaking.<br />
<br />
I took some action. I donated some money. I checked in with friends who have family in Japan; thankfully all are fine. I watched a lot of news. And then I had to take a break from news.<br />
<br />
It's easy for all of us, but particularly for writers and artists, to start feeling helpless or insignificant in the face of disaster, of suffering or loss of life on a large scale. I know I wish I could take stronger action and do more. If I were a medical professional, I might board the next plane. If I were a nuclear physicist I'd lend my brain cells to solving the problem of fending off a meltdown.<br />
<br />
But then I started getting tweets about YA author <a href="http://www.maureenjohnsonbooks.com/index1.html">Maureen Johnson's</a> innovative <a href="http://www.shelterbox.org/">Shelterbox</a> fundraiser. Shelterbox is an international disaster relief charity that provides disaster victims with boxes containing shelter-building materials and other survival gear. In the wake of the New Zealand earthquake, Johnson held a Twitter drive. Authors donated prizes, fans bid on them and donated, and $15,000 was raised for Shelterbox. With almost no planning, her initiative was repeated for Japan relief efforts, and she raised almost that same amount for Shelterboxes in just a few days. <br />
<br />
I'm inspired by how high-profile authors can use their visibility to raise this kind of money in such a short amount of time, and how everyone can participate in such an initiative, at any level - by donating money, donating prizes, or just spreading the word. And that is why wordsmiths should not be humbled by large-scale relief efforts out in the Real World. Wordsmiths should use the power of the word to help out in times of need.<br />
<br />
Here are some other writers and people in the book business -- as well as artists in other media -- who are helping to raise money or raise awareness. They are contributing their time, talent and energy to help Japan. I'd love to learn of other individuals or organizations who are involved in creative fundraising initiatives. Please add them as comments and help spread the word!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/b?ie=UTF8&node=2673660011">Amazon.com -- Provides an easy way to make Red Cross Donations on their site </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://authorsforjapan.wordpress.com/">Authors for Japan (UK; online auction - authors and publishing professionals donating prizes -- closes 3/20) </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bleedingcool.com/2011/03/13/raisining-money-for-japan-through-art/">Art for Japan Auctions (various artists donating works; many links here)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.japanla.com/blog.php">Japan L.A. / #prayforjapan Art Show (fundraiser, Los Angeles, 3/19-4/4)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/37230/artists-and-galleries-around-the-world-band-together-to-send-japan-earthquake-relief/">New York - Asia Week - many galleries / art shows are turning into fundraising events</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://write-hope.blogspot.com/">Write Hope (a group of Kidlit writers auctioning kidlit books, critiques, and other prizes for donation to Save the Children's emergency relief fund)</a><br />
<br />
<i>(As always, please do your research on any charitable donation before sending money!)</i>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-7658688010363062942011-03-09T11:41:00.002-05:002011-03-09T20:09:10.889-05:00Country Mouse goes to NYCNYC always dazzles me. I've been there numerous times -- Boston isn't so far away, and I used to travel there regularly for business. But I always feel a bit like Country Mouse, showing up with a battered suitcase and stars in my eyes, gaping at the towering buildings and at the rush of life all around me. Inevitably I trip over the sidewalk at some point, or walk into a wall, or narrowly miss getting hit by a cab, because I am so in awe.<br />
<br />
Last week's whirlwind visit was a particularly glamorous trip for me because I was a) traveling solo, for the first time in a long time, and b) meeting with my publisher to discuss revisions, and c) celebrating my City Mouse friend's birthday and getting to see her adorable baby girl. The perfect mix of business and pleasure. Oh, and I was flying down for the first time, on the Jet Blue shuttle, rather than creeping down on the train or the bus. What a difference! What efficiency! What civilized comfort! Country Mouse may never travel to New York any other way from now on.<br />
<br />
I started my adventure at Rockefeller Center, where I popped into <a href="http://www.kitchoan.com/">Minamoto Kitchoan</a>, my favorite Japanese pastry shop in New York. Actually it's now the only Japanese pastry shop in New York, as the other one recently closed. It is a wonderful little slice of Japan, with an array of seasonal confections (<i>wagashi</i>) that instantly transports me back to Kyoto.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-D2URN2ZInqI/TXehabX1wSI/AAAAAAAAACg/1FVNlxutTdk/s1600/photo%252859%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-D2URN2ZInqI/TXehabX1wSI/AAAAAAAAACg/1FVNlxutTdk/s320/photo%252859%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I bought a box of some goodies as a gift for my editors, and bought two other <i>wagashi</i> just for myself, for breakfast. (Signs posted around the store assure you that their <i>wagashi</i>, made with legumes and glutinous rice, are healthier than Western sweets; they contain fewer calories and many vitamins. I chose to believe this. I also chose to believe that Spring is here, as I purchased an assortment of Spring <i>wagashi </i>wrapped in crisp green paper. Basically whatever the lovely people at Minamoto Kitchoan tell me, I will believe! It is a place of great optimism).<br />
<br />
I sat in a pool of sunlight at Rockefeller Center, watched skaters, and ate about 600 calories worth of healthy and vitamin-filled <i>wagashi. </i>Which I did not have to share with a toddler. I'm sure any mother can appreciate how rare and lovely it is to just sit in the sun and eat something entirely by yourself. Slowly. <br />
<br />
I then ambled over to <a href="http://www.kinokuniya.com/">Kinokuniya Books</a>, where I browsed to my heart's content. Another luxury, as no small person was exhorting me to buy everything in sight. I found two manga titles that directly relate to something in my novel. I made a list of fifteen books I'm now dying to read. I browsed through the craft section and drooled over Japanese paper, and briefly contemplated learning a craft -- until I remembered that if I got sucked into something like origami or <i>sumi </i>brush painting, I'd probably never write another word.<br />
<br />
The highlight of the bookstore visit was an impressive exhibit of book art, featuring the <a href="http://www.printedmatter.org/catalogue/recs.cfm?list_id=476">Japanese Young Artists' Books Fair</a>. (Yes, I keep wanting to rewrite that as "Young Japanese Artists' Book Fair." But this is how it appears in the promotional materials).<br />
<br />
This artist collective is a group of young, emerging artists who live or work in Japan. They are exhibiting works related to book art: comics, graphic novels, art objects related to books, art books, etc. Works from the Tokyo exhibit are currently on display at Kinokuniya in NY and at several other bookstores in the city. (Click on the link above for more info). The most astounding work I saw was that of an artist who knit with books. She cut Japanese books into vertical strips (following the characters, which appear vertically on the page) and then knit them -- really -- into sweaters, blankets, mittens, hats, scarves. WOW. It was also fun to watch an artist work on an elaborately detailed mural painting on the wall of the store, by the stairwell. And it was fun to see the creative interpretations of book art all around the exhibit. One artist showed blank white books, and his explanatory note said that images would appear in them over time, as a result of temperature or humidity. "If you can't wait to appear," it went on, "you lightly toast with dryer or fire. But take care when using fire!" Another work by the same artist played with images of hands on books, reminding us of the tactile sensation of reading and how the outside world disappears except for the book and our hands. This series also involved some optical illusions with black and white vertical stripes, which were a bit painful to look at after awhile. I was grateful for the artist's warning to "keep your eyes apart" to protect them!<br />
<br />
In the afternoon, I went to the Penguin Offices to meet with my editorial team. I had to pause before the building and just marvel for a moment at how far I've come with my novel. Years ago, toiling in solitude, on the verge of giving up, I never would have imagined I would someday stand before the Penguin offices on Hudson Street. It is really beyond my wildest dreams. I was alone, but not alone, because I don't feel I got there alone. I was pushed along to that destination, to that moment, by a great number of people, including my agent, my critique group, my writer friends, my supportive family. I don't think any writer or artist gets very far alone.<br />
<br />
At that rather emotional moment, Country Mouse took over my body and made me take a picture of the address on the building to memorialize the day:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TfSGwHMXEOg/TXel7LR520I/AAAAAAAAACk/N96nqZ_cLPY/s1600/photo%252861%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TfSGwHMXEOg/TXel7LR520I/AAAAAAAAACk/N96nqZ_cLPY/s320/photo%252861%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
After passing a wonderful afternoon talking about my book, and books in general, with my amazing editorial team (oh, and eating some more of that vitamin-filled <i>wagashi </i>with them), I went on to the West Village to meet my dear friend, City Mouse. She's from my hometown of Seattle, but has been living in NYC for almost a decade, and now navigates the Big Apple with ease and grace. It's good when she's around because then I'm less likely to trip over the sidewalk or bang into buildings; she's got my back.<br />
<br />
And she's got a great eye for art, which is why she's terrific in her job as a corporate art curator. Immediately after we met up in her neighborhood, she directed my attention to an arresting framed picture set out with some trash. It may have been a graphic for magazine, or an advertisement for an art show; the writing on it was all in Japanese. But the model's expression -- sort of inviting and defiant -- grabbed my attention. And I was struck by the way the art seemed "set out," even displayed, rather than thrown out, even though it was next to the trash.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4GDtYpkJTRc/TXeoxwgSqvI/AAAAAAAAACo/_31ct60Pcgs/s1600/photo%252860%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4GDtYpkJTRc/TXeoxwgSqvI/AAAAAAAAACo/_31ct60Pcgs/s320/photo%252860%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aTeSc1vuhdU/TXervYhXjJI/AAAAAAAAACs/s4pPijad1GI/s1600/photo%252862%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aTeSc1vuhdU/TXervYhXjJI/AAAAAAAAACs/s4pPijad1GI/s320/photo%252862%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
It was a powerful image for me, on many levels. It reminded me of my earlier destinations in the day, and how you can still find Japan in NYC, despite so many recent closings of Japanese businesses there. And the picture made me think about perseverance, and hope . . . how even when you're hitting a wall with your work, or feeling like your art is worthless or destined for the trash, if you keep at it, it will improve, and eventually someone will notice. When it's time, the right people will lift you up and help you get to where you need to go.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-60999354473422035512011-03-03T12:01:00.001-05:002011-03-03T12:03:09.824-05:00Coming Up For AirI'm coming up for air! I've missed blogging, but for the past couple of weeks I have been focused on the editorial letter I received from my publisher, and my impending revision of <i>The Frame Game</i>. After three passes through the manuscript and thirty pages of brainstorming and scrawled notes, the revision process is beginning to feel slightly less daunting. Slightly. Tomorrow I'll be in New York, and I'll actually get to meet with my team at Viking and discuss some ideas in person. <br />
<br />
Cutting is the big issue. As I prepare for my flight tomorrow morning, I realize my manuscript -- bursting with hot pink post-it notes, scrawled comments, and little sticky tags -- takes up most of my bag. I may actually have to buy it a seat. I may have to declare it at security as potentially hazardous material. I now completely accept that this manuscript is too unwieldy and needs to shed some weight.<br />
<br />
When I first got the editorial letter, I was slightly paralyzed. But I spent a lot of time with the manuscript, trying to see it through my editors' eyes, and giving serious consideration to all of their suggestions and concerns. I broke through my initial paralysis by having the voice of my main character respond, in writing, to each of their points. While no one will ever see those notes, this helped me get back into my character's mindset and voice, and to think about which suggestions felt natural to implement and which felt more difficult. It also helped to remove me, the author, from the equation, in a sense. The comments and responses became about the book, not me.<br />
<br />
Now I'm mostly feeling energized and excited. I'm planning to hit the desk first thing Monday morning, to start revising in earnest, and to take this novel to the next level. I'm so thrilled to have a supportive team who want the best for the book! Revising with coaches, and cheerleaders in the grandstands, feels like a whole different game now. Revising with a visible endpoint this time -- publication, instead of endless uncertainty -- is incredibly motivating. Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-73021091714693739482011-02-24T09:58:00.003-05:002011-02-24T16:01:35.604-05:00A Sad Farewell to Bob Slate StationerAfter 78 years in business, my favorite office supply store, <a href="http://www.bobslate.com/">Bob Slate Stationer,</a> is closing its doors. All three Cambridge stores will be gone by March. I was already mourning the loss of the two <a href="http://www.borders.com/online/store/Home">Borders</a> bookstores nearest my home, not to mention the closure of two of my favorite neighborhood book stores in Seattle: <a href="http://www.twicesoldtales.info/">Twice Sold Tales</a> and <a href="http://www.fremontplacebooks.com/">Fremont Place Book Company</a>. I heard about all of those closures in the space of two weeks. The loss of Bob Slate feels like the final kick in the gut.<br />
<br />
I have regularly shopped at Bob Slate since I came to the Boston area for school in 1994. Admittedly, I have shopped there less frequently since so much of my work has gone digital, and since the main supplies I need these days -- printer cartridges, bulk amounts of printer paper -- are much cheaper at Staples. But I've still gone there at least once every couple of months for notebooks, journal-type books, planner books, greeting cards, business stationery, and pens. Pens! Bob Slate was like a candy store of gorgeous pens, which you could try out on tiny pads of paper without anyone frowning at you. I don't even use pens that much anymore, but I have continued to stockpile them as if the world will end. I can honestly say I never left the store empty-handed. <br />
<br />
Bob Slate was the kind of store that reminded me of why I wanted to write. Sure, bookstores inspire me too, with all their shelves of finished products. But those are completed stories. Bob Slates, for me, was always about the romance of possibility. Looking at shelf after shelf of notebooks, and reams of lined paper, I would imagine the possibilities for filling them up. I would spend up to an hour choosing my next journal, or the appropriate notebook for jotting ideas on my novel in progress, or the best binder for organizing my research materials. And while running my fingers over bindings, almost in a trance, I'd be playing with various ideas in my mind, or puzzling over plot glitches, or thinking about a character. <br />
<br />
Walking into Bob Slate, I always felt ten years old again. When I was a child, my mother regularly took me to stationery shops or drug stores to buy new notebooks, which I chewed through at an alarming rate. I would run my fingers over spines and stroke the paper, deciding whether I wanted a fat five-subject notebook or a smaller one, depending on the scope of my project. I would carefully choose the color of the cover -- maybe black or dark blue for a serious work, or hot pink for something light and fun. Or orange, for my Harriet the Spy notebooks, to match the color of that book cover. In Bob Slate, the years fell away and I was right back at age ten, choosing my tools with care and delight.<br />
<br />
In our economy today, and our digitized era, paper and pens have become romantic. Fetishized objects of an earlier time. My buying them, in somewhat smaller amounts over the years, certainly did not save the store. But I hope the sense of possibility won't become romantic. I feel a little adrift today, unsure now of where to go to get the same feeling I got at Bob Slate. I can tell you it's not at Staples, a place where I usually want to get the hell out as soon as I walk in the door. Staples is about efficiency and speed. Bob Slate was a place to linger. It was a place to let ideas slowly unfurl, and a place to buys tools to help facilitate dreams on the page. <br />
<br />
I'm busy, and most days I like to work fast and hard and get things done. It's the subtitle of this entire blog. But sometimes it's important to linger and dream and browse around, and I'm finding fewer places to do that these days.Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-73138692921737946122011-02-18T11:47:00.000-05:002011-02-18T11:47:24.321-05:00Word Slasher!So I'm gearing up to revise my novel (THE FRAME GAME, the one to be published). I have been asked, among other things, to cut the word count by quite a bit. I recognize I have a tendency to over-complicate, so I'm immensely grateful for editorial advice at this stage. And I agree some verbiage has to go. I know I can be excessive. (Witness the essay-like length of most of my blog entries here!) (Witness the over-explanation in this paragraph alone!)<br />
<br />
When I used to teach writing, I found that most writers tend to overwrite, like me, or to underwrite. The grass is always greener, I guess. Underwriters, hearing my plight, assure me that at least cutting is easier -- I don't often have much to do in the way of fleshing out scenes or writing all new ones. Yet I envy the economy with which some of my fellow scribes seem to write. I would love to be told to deepen a scene or to add more details! <br />
<br />
In the spirit of slashing excess verbiage, I'm keeping today's blog entry incredibly short. (<i>Excess -- incredibly </i>-- cut those modifiers!) I'm gearing up for a major revision, gathering my strength, conserving my words. <br />
<br />
So as a substitute for any real advice today, I'm going to share a Japanese martial arts performance video. No, I don't think I'm giving up taiko drumming to pursue sword dancing anytime soon. However, if you watch this performance while thinking of the revision process -- and the plight of the writer who needs to slash words -- this can be an inspiring image. It inspired me, anyway! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZmlkmVoPuQA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Are you an underwriter or an overwriter? How do you gear up for or begin a major revision? What techniques have you found to help you cut words, paragraphs, or pages?Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-43985951361956901112011-02-17T10:45:00.055-05:002011-02-18T11:01:09.247-05:00Evenfall: A Haunting Novel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1285254682l/8766150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1285254682l/8766150.jpg" width="196" /></a></div><br />
I've been reading mostly YA fiction lately, but I do make occasional forays back into adult fiction. My latest great find is <a href="http://www.lizmichalski.com/books.html">EVENFALL</a>, by <a href="http://www.lizmichalski.com/">Liz Michalski</a>. <br />
<br />
This exquisite novel is told in three distinct and compelling voices. There's Andie, a 30-something young woman who has returned to her family's New England farmhouse to settle her uncle's estate and to flee an unhealthy relationship. There's Gert, Andie's headstrong aunt, who helped raise her. And Frank, Andie's uncle, the most fascinating and likeable ghost I've come across in fiction.<br />
<br />
Yes, you've read that right: Frank's dead. But he hasn't exactly left the house. He's a quiet but impassioned presence, watching relationships unfold in the house. He's slowly gathering energy, in a variety of ways, to communicate with his loved ones and to reconcile with his past.<br />
<br />
The past haunts all of these characters, and how they come to terms with their regrets -- as well as how they chart a course for their future, and for the family farm -- makes for a fascinating read. In particular, Andie is at an important crossroads in her life. She's just back from Italy, having finished a Ph.D. in art history, and she's nursing her wounds from an unhealthy relationship with a slick guy named Neal. But it's soon clear that the family farm will not provide her with a complete refuge from her problems. And there's plenty of room for complications when Cort -- the boy she used to babysit -- appears on the scene, all grown up.<br />
<br />
The writing in this novel is as gorgeous as the cover. The 200-year-old farmhouse, the surrounding town of Hartman, CT, and the summer languor, are all so vividly described. Despite the paranormal element, this story reads more like a contemporary novel, with believable, sympathetic characters. All of them continue to haunt me now that I've come, with regrets, to the end. Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-41614761558086706602011-02-09T16:21:00.027-05:002011-02-10T10:28:30.424-05:00Headshots? Head case!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U_Uu8nvS8LY/TVQAEIaNbyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/E1sqONG9SH8/s1600/Art+Tunnel+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U_Uu8nvS8LY/TVQAEIaNbyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/E1sqONG9SH8/s320/Art+Tunnel+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Much as I love photography, I'd rather be behind the lens than in front of it. I've endured way too many pictures of myself with half-closed eyes, bad lighting, or big, bad hair immortalized forever. I look drunk in photos before I've even touched a glass. Maybe I just have a lingering case of PTHSYS (post-traumatic high school yearbook syndrome). But it's time to get over it, because I'm planning an overhaul of my website this year, and I have a book coming out, and I'm aware that I'll need a headshot at some point. My current website photo likely won't do; I've been told -- gently, by some caring friends -- that it's nice but looks a little, er, formal, and a little, well, just a <i>little </i>like a yearbook photo.<br />
<br />
The current photo in use was actually taken at a portrait studio in a mall, the one where I take my son for his milestone portraits and Christmas card pictures. I'm smiling in it because adorable children were running around in cute Christmas clothes and playing with the props, and this relaxed me. Plus I had a coupon and the thing was practically free. But that's beside the point.<br />
<br />
I knew it was time to update. And well in advance, so that if I didn't like the results I'd have plenty of time to redo. So I got in touch with a brilliant professional photographer I know. <a href="http://www.nicolelewisphotography.com/site/#/home/">Nicole Lewis</a> specializes in photographing children and families, as well as beaming expectant mothers, so I figured she'd have a knack for making me relax. I also worked with her when I had maternity photos taken, and when I looked at her updated website, I discovered my belly on display to all the world in her maternity portrait gallery. (If you're that curious, it's featured in the first two pictures and the last one. The scarf is a souvenir from a trip to Turkey, my last big pre-baby trip).<br />
<br />
So I got in touch with Nicole. She had time to work me in, and she thought doing an author headshot would be a fun change of pace. (I promised to wiggle and cry less than her usual subjects). She also had some creative ideas for some artier, edgier types of photos we could take outside for a different feel, if I wanted to throw something less traditional up on my website later. She had made some of my maternity photos arty and edgy, to great effect, so I was game. <br />
<br />
The thing is, scheduling a photography session in the winter, during cold and flu season, adds a whole other layer of stress to what for me is an already stressful event. Massive snowstorms caused our session to be rescheduled; I also had to reschedule an accompanying appointment I had with someone who could make sense of my hair, as I lack ability in that department. Then my son had an ear infection, and stomach flu. He recovered, but when I brought him to school this morning, on the day of the shoot, it was like a time warp back to September, with renewed separation anxiety after his five-day absence. Between weather and illnesses -- both his and mine -- I felt like I was trying to land a plane through storm systems just to hit this morning's shoot with Nicole. <br />
<br />
But the stars aligned. My child calmed down at school. A trusted professional made sense of my hair. Nicole showed up with her trusty camera and her keen eye. We took a number of shots in the comfort of my own home, and it wasn't painful at all, and they didn't look remotely like yeabook photos (or drivers license photos, or passport photos, or party photos). And then we ventured outside, "on location."<br />
<br />
In my small suburban town, there's a beautiful stone wall by an old railroad station, and a pedestrian underpass, going under the train tracks, that is dazzlingly decorated with graffitti art and murals. High school students should be hanging out there, skipping school -- it looks like the perfect hideout -- but incredibly, it was, as it always is, completely vacant. A long, empty tunnel of unappreciated art. Somehow Nicole made our pictures there look like somewhere very different, like somewhere in New York maybe -- not a sleepy New England town. She also cut out the massive snow banks, the icicles, and the pile of dead Christmas trees abandoned by the local Lions Club. That aspect of photography fascinates me -- the composition of subjects, the sleight of hand. <br />
<br />
Oh, Nicole also braved temperatures in the low 20s to do this, balancing her little stepstool precariously on slanted, icy ground to try to get the perfect shots.<br />
<br />
Most of all, she made it a fun experience for me. It was fun to collaborate with an artist in a different medium. And I felt like we were two kids skipping school. <br />
<br />
I now have a whole new appreciate for photographers after today -- for what they do and how they see.<br />
<br />
Though they are nowhere near as good Nicole's, here are a few of my own photos of our local tunnel of art:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nt8RAKPvyZM/TVQD2QSVlgI/AAAAAAAAACc/r88Hp8h8TaQ/s1600/Art+Tunnel5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nt8RAKPvyZM/TVQD2QSVlgI/AAAAAAAAACc/r88Hp8h8TaQ/s320/Art+Tunnel5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RLvhqFYS7I0/TVQCyqXHVKI/AAAAAAAAACY/k2HtL_L2ZsY/s1600/Art+Tunnel4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RLvhqFYS7I0/TVQCyqXHVKI/AAAAAAAAACY/k2HtL_L2ZsY/s320/Art+Tunnel4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QnpiPZwI7FI/TVQBCe7F0zI/AAAAAAAAACU/kYsFEtcQC6o/s1600/Art+Tunnel7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QnpiPZwI7FI/TVQBCe7F0zI/AAAAAAAAACU/kYsFEtcQC6o/s320/Art+Tunnel7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-5495339439070741582011-02-04T10:17:00.004-05:002011-02-04T15:15:32.697-05:00Art Works, Part 1: Inspiration from Japanese Artists<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/41760000/41766907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/41760000/41766907.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/43100000/43108181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/43100000/43108181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/43100000/43108181.JPG" /></a></div>I love art. But I can barely etch a stick figure. I have to translate what I see into words. Sometimes the tension between my deep appreciation for visual art and my inability to produce it feels like a strange illness. So I compensate in other ways. I write about art. I gorge myself on gallery shows, museum exhibits, web sites and magazines about art, coffee table books, art-related films, and graphic novels. Recently, I've been seeking out documentaries about the creative lives of artists, finding inspiration in their processes. <br />
<br />
My latest discovery is the <a href="http://www.newpeopleartistseries.com/">New People Artist Series</a>, produced by <a href="http://www.viz-pictures.com/">Viz Pictures</a>. The first video came out in 2007, and there are now six in the series. Each DVD profiles a Japanese artist, providing a close-up view of his or her inspirations and creative process. And by close up, I mean <i>close</i>. Much of the footage comes directly from the art studio, where we peer over the artist's shoulder, watching them paint or draw or sculpt in preparation for a major exhibition. Now I'm someone who can actually watch paint dry, and find that fascinating, so I'm probably an ideal audience member for this series, in which sometimes viewers are, literally, watching paint dry. Or we are watching an artist microwave a meal, or smoke a cigarette, while he waits for the paint to dry.<br />
<br />
I love the focus on process and inspiration in this series. We learn little about these artist' childhoods or personal lives, and there is not a lot of glamour. We don't gawk at the public persona of the artist. Instead we glimpse the sacrifices they've made for their art, living in modest quarters and nondescript neighborhoods. The focus is on the art and how it's made. In the three DVDs I have viewed so far, we are invited to observe relatively quiet artists who are developing their works brush by brush, line by line. They are filled with inspiration for anyone who works in a creative field.<br />
<br />
In <a href="http://www.newpeopleartistseries.com/tenmyouya.html"><i>Hitashi Tenmyouya: Samurai Nouvau</i></a>, we watch the artist painstakingly apply layers of gold foil, reviving some traditional techniques in Japanese art, which he then mixes with more modern techniques. We watch him make tiny pencil marks on transparent paper to create scrolls with elaborate details. He is a model of patience and perseverance, crouched over his canvases, blowing away graphite dust. Somehow, all these scratch marks combine to make jaw-droppingly detailed scrolls, drawings and paintings that are exhibited and receive international acclaim. His process reminds me that even on writing days that feel unproductive, all those words, my own little scratch marks, really can add up to something in the end.<br />
<br />
In <a href="http://www.newpeopleartistseries.com/kusama.html"><i>Yayoi Kusama: I Love Me,</i></a> the avant-garde, pink-haired artist, who is known for her fascination with polka dots, races the clock to create 50 massive drawings with black markers. The camera lingers on her as she outlines, then colors in, dot after dot after dot, between strangely beautiful squiggle and lines and wide staring eyes. There is an element of suspense here, considering the artist's advanced age, her growing fatigue, her own sense of mortality. Will she complete the series in time for the exhibition? And there are lessons for writers and artists in other media to take away, too. Her bursts of energy and her loyal assistants carry her along on her project, reminding us of the power of artistic vision -- and the power of having a supportive team on your side, to help your work see the light of day. Kusama is also a poet. One of my favorite moments in the film is when she reads through a poem she published years ago. She blinks in astonishment when she is done and exclaims, "This is very good!" It's so easy for us to criticize our own work, especially once it's been published or produced, yet Kusama unabashedly delights in her finished products.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.newpeopleartistseries.com/nara.html">Traveling with Yoshimtomo Nara</a> also has a quiet element of suspense as we follow an introverted artist around the world, watching him set up exhibits in various cities and ultimately stage a massive multimedia installation piece in collaboration with others. The suspense arises in the tension between the artist's self-processed introverted tendencies and his desire to connect with his audience (particularly with children, who are captivated by his whimsical drawings and seem to revere him like a rock star). He also searches for ways to come out of his shell and connect with other artists. In the end, we see how his encounters with others greatly impact his work. This documentary teaches artists in any medium about the power of collaboration, and about how we find satisfaction in reaching an audience -- sometimes in surprising ways. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/49660000/49665090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/49660000/49665090.JPG" /></a></div>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-8957399261972540652011-02-01T12:01:00.004-05:002011-02-18T11:03:18.930-05:00The Murderer's Daughters: An Adult Novel with YA Appeal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.randysusanmeyers.com/images/murderers-daughter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.randysusanmeyers.com/images/murderers-daughter.png" /></a></div><span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">Have you heard of <i>The Murderer's Daughters</i>, by <a href="http://www.randysusanmeyers.com/">Randy Susan Meyers</a>? It's coming out in paperback today, so I thought I'd devote some air time to it. Mainly since I have not stopped thinking about this novel since I read it, and I've read three other books since! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">First, a confession. As a relatively new mom, I hesitated at first to read a story about domestic violence and its aftermath. These days I'm skittish about stories of children placed in dangerous situations. And this story doesn't hold back on danger. In the opening chapters, an alcoholic man turns on his family, killing his wife and attacking one of his young daughters. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">But I was quickly pulled into this novel, as is not so much about violence as it is about resilience. It explores how the daughters, Lulu and Merry, attempt to rebuild their lives over the ensuing decades, particularly how they deal with having a father in prison. At a point, the lies they tell the world and themselves in order to cope are put to the test. The girls must make difficult moral choices about how to reconstruct their family narrative. </span></span><br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663"></span><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">It's a fascinating study of how their survival skills and emotional coping strategies change over time, particularly when one daughter has children of her own, drastically raising the stakes. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">A great strength of this novel is its roster of realistic, psychologically complex characters. Yes, there are murderers and batterers roaming these pages. Yet the men are portrayed not so much as monsters, but as people who commit "monstrous deeds." </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">This is a fascinating psychological study, a story of two of the strongest girls you'll ever meet in fiction, and, above all, a keep-you-up-all-night-page-turner. And if you're looking for a book with YA/adult crossover interest (for mature YA readers, anyway), this is a good one. A large portion of the novel portrays the girls coping and rebuilding their lives during their tween and teen years. Even the characters in their adult years, I would argue, are of interest to teens because the moral choices the adults make impact the family's next generation. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">Here's the book trailer:</span></span><br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/VtRDwYqnPD0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663">What are some other "adult" novels you know of with the potential for YA appeal?</span></span><br />
<span class="readable reviewText"><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663"> </span><span class="reviewText" id="freeTextreview140693663"> </span></span>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8143532768487182844.post-87845769039541814532011-01-27T21:43:00.005-05:002011-05-26T11:30:27.434-04:00Suburban Thunder: How Taiko Drumming Fuels My WritingIn a quiet, working-class town outside of Boston, behind a bowling alley and an electricians' school, next to a Brazilian church, inside a nondescript building housing a Chinese cultural center, I've discovered a wonderful little slice of Japan. It's a <i>dojo</i>, a practice space for a taiko drumming group, and it's my escape hatch on Tuesdays.<br />
<br />
This week I started my third semester of classes with <a href="http://onetaiko.org/index.shtml">Odaiko New England</a>. I figure I must be hooked, as I drove out to this place in the sleet, over icy roads, with a head cold and a pounding headache. Nothing like the sound of 25 drummers to ease a pounding headache, right? And yet as I got out of my car, joining fellow drummers wielding <i>bachi</i> (long wooden sticks), my symptoms miraculously dissipated. Taiko on Tuesdays always hits my reset button.<br />
<br />
Here's a quick overview, since most people, when I talk taiko, stare at me blankly. In Japanese, taiko means "drum." Most of the drums we use are tall and wide, but there actually several different types of drums, drum stands, and drumming positions. The type of drumming I'm learning with Odaiko New England is called <i>kumi-daiko,</i> or ensemble drumming. It is at once musical, artistic, and athletic, combining fluid movements with vigorous rhythms. Borrowing from martial arts as well, drummers cultivate a community spirit and give each other energy (<i>ki</i>) through the practice of <i>kiai</i> (vocal energy, or shouting, while playing). They also try to give energy by making eye contact. And, on occasion, smiling at each other. Which is actually really hard to do if you're trying to remember the phrase of a song, or learn a complicated rhythm, and not take off anyone's head with a drumstick.<br />
<br />
The noise and the interaction with others couldn't be more different from the writing life. I think that's largely why I've come to love it. The contrast feels necessary. I'm not alone in this, I suspect, since I've met other fiction writers through drumming. (And quite a lot of computer programmers. I think this is an intriguing topic for another post someday!)<br />
<br />
But I also find discipline and routine in taiko. Predictability mixed with bursts of improvisation. In this sense, it couldn't be more similar to the writing life. At the beginning of taiko, we bow before entering the <i>dojo</i>. We sit in a circle and greet one another in Japanese. We bow again. We warm up in a predictable manner, gradually building our energy and focus. I don't do the same rituals when I enter my home office and sit at my computer, but taiko has helped me cultivate a sense of discipline and focus that I try to apply to my days at the desk. I view my office as a <i>dojo,</i> a practice space. I work to clear my head before entering, to warm up before hitting the novel-in-progress, and to minimize visual distractions. I'm not always successful, but taiko prompts me to try.<br />
<br />
As I left my car the other night and hurried across the ice to the <i>dojo</i>, already drawn to the vibrations of early drummers warming up, I realized one more thing I love about taiko -- especially doing taiko in the suburbs. It cultivates my inner rebel. I love that on a cold winter night, when a lot of us should be home with our families, or watching TV or tidying up the kitchen, we're in a <i>dojo</i> drumming our hearts out. I love that in this quirky location, people might pass us as they head out to restaurants or bars, or to the bowling alley or the electricians' school, and wonder what the hell is going on in there. As a YA writer, it's important to get in touch with that inner rebel now and then, to relight that fire, even for two hours. It can't be a coincidence that Wednesday mornings are my most productive writing times. The thunder is still in my ears.<br />
<br />
Here are some pictures of my class performing at the 2010 Odaiko New England Winter Extravaganza. I'm in the front row, just to the right of the dark drum in the center. (Faces are blurry -- you'll have to take my word for it!)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUFu1Obwl5I/AAAAAAAAACA/kJUqWUD8llE/s1600/IMG_0186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUFu1Obwl5I/AAAAAAAAACA/kJUqWUD8llE/s320/IMG_0186.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUFyDOuX4cI/AAAAAAAAACE/PJI9tI7t6G8/s1600/IMG_0187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUFyDOuX4cI/AAAAAAAAACE/PJI9tI7t6G8/s320/IMG_0187.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUGIe33QZVI/AAAAAAAAACI/Y9LRwd58EFc/s1600/IMG_0343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0TjEpKoL35Q/TUGIe33QZVI/AAAAAAAAACI/Y9LRwd58EFc/s320/IMG_0343.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And if you've followed me this far, here are videos for two pieces from the 2010 Winter Extravaganza. My beginner class is the first video; a more advanced class can be seen in the second.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/6syqNDSk1xE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/MZFbMUjVKco?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
What physical activities or hobbies fuel <i>your</i> writing life? <br />
<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1583104420"></span><span id="goog_1583104421"></span>Diana Rennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00141038221046486655noreply@blogger.com2