Book Magic and What Are You Reading?

Serendipity, kismet, book magic. You might not have a name for it (or maybe you do), but if you’ve read books for any amount of time then you know what it is:

That moment when a book crosses the horizon of your consciousness without your having searched for it. Maybe you heard about it from a friend, a blog post, or an interview. Maybe you only saw the cover or simply discovered it on the shelf. One moment you are living your life and the next moment there is this book that you know you need to read. And once you do, you sit back amazed over what it did. Captivated you. Or answered one of your unspoken questions. Described a feeling you never could put into words. Sometimes the entire theme envelops you, sometimes just one phrase stays with you.

A few that come to mind for me.

“Children are a burden to a mother, but not the way a heavy box is to a mule. Our children weigh hard on my heart, and thinking about them growing up honest and healthy, or just living to grow up at all, makes a load in my chest that is bigger than the safe at the bank, and more valuable to me than all the gold inside it.”

― Nancy E. Turner, These Is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901

“. . . that all the good things of this world are no further good to us than they are for our use; and that, whatever we may heap up indeed to give others, we may enjoy as much as we can use, and no more.”

– Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe

“She had little experience with such things, but she began to suspect this was exactly what it meant to have people in one’s life who cared about each other. They talked through burdens and walked at each other’s side. ‘Twas something she knew in that moment she wanted very much indeed.”

– Sarah M. Eden, Longing For Home

And this one. Takes. My. Breath. Away.

Mr. Rochester to Jane: "Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still. . . "

– Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

This book magic, I think, served as part of my motivation to write The Christmas Tree Keeper. To be on the other side of the shelf, so to speak, and do my part to bring a story to life. I drew on childhood memories of Christmas and trees and miracles and began to wonder what if. As I wrote and researched and wrote some more, I wondered if my story would ever be able to find its way into a reader’s life—a reader’s heart, even.

Well, I woke up to a new review for The Christmas Tree Keeper a few weeks ago, written by someone I do not know, and do not expect to be able to meet. She was from Massachusetts (where the book is set) and had previously worked on a Christmas Tree Lot (like the Shafer Tree Farm) and had even made wreaths. At that point in her review I thought a real-life Mrs. Shaw had found my book and enjoyed it!

How did she find my book?

I didn’t know. But then again, I did.

In my mind’s eye I felt like I could see the closing of the circuit, if you will, where a reader just found what she was looking for, what she needed.

And this is why I love the craft. For readers and writers, how the book magic comes full circle. For writers to collaborate with the stories that beg to be told, to give it their best effort and make their offering to the readers who are waiting to do their part—the discovering, the enjoying. And for readers to share what they're reading. The world changes, one book at a time.

Happy reading!

Leave a comment with what your reading (or hope to read) this holiday like I've done in previous summers, I'll put together the list in another post.

Are You A Morning Person?

Okay, I should rephrase the question.
Are you a Morning Pages person?
If you've read The The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, then you probably know what I'm talking about. If not, let me explain one of the coolest ways I know to tap into all the awesome creativity slumbering in your brain. The simple description is: write three pages of longhand in the morning. Yes, I write mine soon after I wake up. I know, scary. This is stream-of-conciousness writing. Nothing fancy, unless custom drapery patterns or new ways to fold dinner napkins are running through your mind when you wake up. One of the functions of Morning Pages is brain drain. This point frightened me at first, beacase really, how much of the grey stuff can I afford to lose? What else about the pages? (Yes, I'm now quoting phrases from page 10-11.) The great news is there is no wrong way to do morning pages. See, this is my kind of writing exercise. No wrong way - so freeing. Also another function of the pages. Write whatever comes to your mind. It doesn't have to be pretty or make any sense. Sometimes they will, mostly they won't. The pages are a way to get all the stuff that stands between you and you're creativity - out of the way. Worries, fears, rants, petty stuff, deep questions - get it all out on the page and make room for the patient creative works waiting for your attention. Another benefit? Doing the pages help you get past your Censor. I'm not going into a long explanation of your right brain/left brain here, but if you have ever tried to write anything - then you know what I'm talking about. The little voice in your head that might say, "Are you serious? Calling him Darrin? Where are you - on an episode of Bewitched?" (Yeah - way too much airtime for my censor -sorry!) So the morning pages trains your Creator to take center stage and your Censor to sit down and be quiet. And the obvious benefit of putting your Censor on the bench? Yep - you guessed it - the major block to your writing is out of the way!

This would be the point in my post where I would show you examples of some the free-writes I've done in my morning pages. But I'm not. If my psyche thought there was any chance I was going to put morning pages on display - I'd lose all that creative freeedom. Antoher rule of the pages - don't show them to anyone! It's tempting, especially when you've done it for a while and you want to show someone that you've been writing something. But don't do it. So forgive me, you'll have to create your own example. Go ahead. Give it a try. Stick with it for at least two weeks and I'd love to know if you notice any changes in your writing.

Legends

I've been waiting ever since the conference to post this awesome power point about writing legends and what it takes to become one. Love it.


More conference highlights here.
Some pics here. (mostly random people, but if you scroll to the end of the chap 8 series, yep, that's me with the third place envelope, trying to replace my "Are you serious" shock with a "I'm so happy I could cry" smile.)

A Chinese Proverb

and why I love my ANWA Chapter meeting

Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly from your
friend's forehead.

That’s the proverb.

It’s why I love my ANWA meetings. (Note: ANWA is the American Night Writer’s Association. It’s a writer’s network group for LDS (latter-day-saint) women.)

When I set out to write a novel, a full length one with a minimum of 50,000 words, I wrote about six chapters and discovered a few things. One – I needed to adjust my expectations for when I might finish the book, two- I needed to adjust my writing style, accustomed to writing one page poems filled with alliterations and obscure phrases, to prose that someone was willing to read. And three –I needed to adjust my desire to do it alone. I knew I needed help. I remembered basics of plot, characterization and pacing from college and high school classes, but that was (ahem) years ago. I knew from my poetry experiences and the sheer number of words I was writing, I needed to read some of what I was writing – out loud, to willing ears.

That’s when I found ANWA, or did ANWA find me? If you have time for a tangent, I still think it is amazing. One morning in the pouring rain, I drove my son to junior high and got rear ended by a young man, not watching the road or cars in front of him. Whiplash. Some fender and trunk damage. Eventually we sold the sedan and found a minivan I still love driving. (Funny sentence I’d never thought I’d write!) The whiplash led me to physical therapy. Physical therapy included therapeutic massage with a massage therapist that attended . . . yes, you guessed it, ANWA.

Back to the chapter meetings. I didn’t know what to expect when I attended. I promised myself, very much like I would my toddler, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have to go back. Here I am one year later –still enjoying the benefits of hanging out with great writers. I love how we are women of different ages, backgrounds, family situations and even different writing aspirations, but we are able to learn so much from each other.

Hence, the proverb. It makes me laugh out loud. Maybe because not too many people I know use hatchets these days, and I suppose I’m still young, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fly on anyone’s forehead. But I love the point. How a fly is a nuisance, yet harmless, and someone might use lethal measures to get rid of it.

But not in ANWA! What I have found there is a positive, encouraging, and caring group of women. A place where I show up with my shaky hands, holding my timid pages, waiting for everyone to run screaming from the room when I am done reading. Instead, I finish, look up and see a few smiles and women who appear comfortable as they listen. They do not have to use hatchets to remove the flies from my manuscript. Their kind words of thoughtful critique do it beautifully. I suppose some manuscripts might need a hatchet, or a shredder, or a torch, (sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away). But those are very rare. The ladies I have met and become freinds with in ANWA have helped me to critique and edit and polish my writing, without crippling me, the writer. That’s what I love about ANWA. And in case you are wondering, I have written this blog of my own free will – no one suggested, asked, paid or otherwise prompted me to do it!

Appearing for a limited time:

A little poem I wrote.


On Writing

What do I know?
I didn’t invent language
I can’t answer
For the way it rains
Clears the air, puddles in places
Generally, I avoid it with
An umbrella of busyness
Or I fall in, unwillingly
Wet and uncomfortably cold
Am I supposed to show this to people?
The aftermath of a cloudburst
In my head?
What can they know
About riding out storms
Hunkered down
With a flimsy keyboard
For protection
They read words
To laugh or cry, to relax
They want user friendly words
To dream or forget
What do I know?
I write words to survive.