Unmasking the Sprezzatura of Writing: What’s Under My Bed?

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If sprezzatura means to express art in such a manner as to convey a supposed effortlessness, then let’s unmask that, at least in regards to my writing. (I say this with much tongue-in-cheekedness; I am not saying my writing is that good, but hey, how else am I gonna work up to what I really want to talk about: what I found under my bed this morning?)

(Note of interest: I took the above photo of Vermeer’s “Lady Writing Letter With Her Maid” in Dublin this past summer.)

While my goal is to one day get writer friends of mine to share honestly with us what’s under their beds, I guess I will have to show you mine first, so here goes:

This morning while cleaning the bedroom (it started with cleaning my writing room and spread from there), I decided to duck under the bed and pull out everything on my side. I am not going to share what I found under my husband’s side. Not because it’s so bad, but because I am respecting his privacy. NB: My dear husband said this could make one think many things if one reads it. All I mean is that while his side looked much like mine, I will let him choose to reveal or not any clutter there may or may not have been under his bed. 🙂

What was lurking under my side? Plenty of Kleenex that had missed its mark, I am sorry to say. Two issues of Poets and Writers. Two art books. Three library books, two of them wholly untouched and likely to remain so — they grow stale, don’t you find? Several paperbacks. A Woman’s Health. A pair of headphones. Three pair of socks. A marked-up manuscript of my novella. A printed copy of a topic that once interested me but now does not. Toss! A filled journal.

A sprezzatura is, again, supposed to hide, not reveal, the sludge of creativity such as what I found under my bed. In the painting above, we see a carefully staged scene. We don’t see the lady worrying because she can’t find the “mot juste” for her letter. Do we want to see our writers struggling for just the right word?

If you happened to have read and enjoyed any of my stories, know that all of those things (and more!) hiding under my bed go into making up one of my stories. The books are self explanatory. The socks merely keep my feet warm — I can’t stand being cold, and I often am. 😩 The filled journal is deceptive — I am probably the worst journal entry writer ever. I record petty, mundane activities or I rant. I unload the mind. I am not trying to impress. I read the journals of famous people, of those with great minds, and I flinch. Still, my journal entries work for me — if I didn’t empty my mind, there would be no room for anything else.

There might have been a few other odds and ends under the bed that I’ve forgotten: I think there was a hanger, and maybe a neck pillow. Oh and a plastic bag. Neither the hanger nor the plastic bag aided my writing, though: they were just part of the flotsam and jetsam that whatever creative creature lives under my bed pulls in. (Maybe you’re getting the impression that I’m not tidy. Well I’m not. I’m not a slob, but faced with the choice between writing or cleaning, guess which I’ll choose, every time? Ok, almost every time.)

So, who’s first? What’s lurking under your bed? And if you’re a creative type, how does it contribute to your art? Go!

The Golden Notebook: Organize Your Writing in 2014

If you want more “gold” from your writing in 2014 (be it money or just the satisfaction of seeing more of your ideas captured instead of left to wander off), try using your “golden notebook.”

(Disclaimer: I once owned Lessing’s “The Golden Notebook but got rid of it without having read it because it was copy I bought at the library’s book sale that was too musty and yellowed to keep. So if I totally misused the title, Lessing fans please forgive me. I really do want to read it.)

I have a writing organization system that works great for me – if I use it! So read the above title as a command to myself. Let me explain my system, in case you need one that you, too, can put into place and promptly ignore.

Because I have ideas for every category of writing you can think of (articles, essays, poems, novels, short stories, plays, movies, hints, blog posts and more!), I recently decided to go back to a system I used years ago. I bought two boxes (I am not kidding) of cheap spiral bound notebooks. My goal (seldom achieved) is to carry one with me AT ALL TIMES. No joke. Beside my side of the sofa (what, you don’t have a side?), in the kitchen, on my bedside table, everywhere.

Here’s where guilt has kept me from pursuing this method in the past: I write JUST ONE IDEA PER PAGE! Yup. Why? Because I have binders for these categories and I put the ideas in each binder. Well, that’s what’s supposed to happen so that when the well runs dry on story ideas (Okay, I actually pin that list to my office wall!)I know just where to go to find one. But I feel so guilty wasting paper. Yeah, there’s the tree killing aspect, for sure, but when I was young a notebook was such a precious thing that I have a hard time not filling every line. After reading Nora Ephron’s essay on revision in which she said she would often go through three to four HUNDRED sheets of paper in the course of writing one article, I don’t feel nearly so guilty.

The most important part of the system is writing the idea down. I have persuaded myself that as long as I write the idea down, I can always get my assistant (I’m getting one in 2014, right? Ha!) to file them as long as I include at the top what category the idea falls into. Just in case I have to be the one to wrangle these ideas, I do it anyway.

Except sometimes an idea really fits into multiple categories. Recently I ran across an idea that I classified as a blog post idea, children’s story, and blues song idea. I don’t generally write blues songs, but if someone needs some lyrics, evidently I have some just itching to be birthed. Sometime. The point is that when this happens, I really should write the idea multiple times and label it for each separate category.

You’re going to ask why I don’t just write these ideas and save them as separate computer files. I’ve tried. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t work for me. In this day of Dropbox (which I use all the time to back up my files), you’d think I’d have adequate access to my ideas no matter where I am.

Ah, but my ideas seldom come to me when I’m in front of a computer. They usually come to me when I’m reading, or driving, or running. Or watching TV or… If I waited to turn on the computer and write a new idea down, it could well be gone by the time I entered my password.

Also, looking at a list of ideas just overwhelms me. I prefer to flip through my ideas and see them one at a time. For one thing, it allows me to remember the circumstances in which I first wrote them, which usually makes me smile, and who doesn’t want a reason to smile?

I look at my list with a pen in hand. Here’s where having just one idea per page is very useful: I write down any ideas I have for that idea, maybe a rough outline, sources to contact, and markets for it, if any. That wouldn’t be possible if I had ten ideas per page. This way my ideas are more likely to be used.

About the paper: I use good ol’ spiral bound (Ugh, with those horrible leftover hangy things. Inelegant, I know.) notebooks. I have toyed with using a binder with paper in it, but it’s not as friendly — I like to fold the cover over and really get into contact with the paper as I write…it helps me empty the idea from my mind better. A binder creates a more formal distance and is not as tactile. Maybe it’s just me.

I have tried legal tablets, but alas, no holes, and I get so aggravated when I flip the page and can’t properly write on the top of the opposite side.

I have also tried beautiful journals, but they’re way too pretty to tear pages from, and they aren’t as conducive to writing my ideas as large as I like to. Those spiral bound notebooks really do have it all. 🙂

(By the way: That list of short story ideas on my wall? It works because they are all ideas for a single collection. Otherwise, forget about it!)

My challenge with this system is going back through and marking when I use an idea so that I don’t reuse it. It’s fine to reuse your ideas, but not for the same market. (Confession time: recently I went to submit a story to a publisher, only, thankfully, taking a moment to look at what else I had out on Submittable. Yup, I’d already sent the same story to this market four months before. At least I know I should be hearing back soon.)

Another downside to this method of organization is that you really do need to periodically go through your notebooks and place these papers into the appropriately labeled binders. Hey, here’s the beauty of creativity: just touching these papers and reading them can often jog more ideas. Which must be written down. Which must be filed. Arggh…! Here’s where I reveal the obvious: I despise filing things. I have three or four bags of papers ready to be filed into our household filing cabinet. I’ll get to it. Someday. But at least my ideas are different: none of them seems a burden. Each is like a gift from my mind or spirit to me, even those I think I will never ever use.

Do I think I will ever use all of my ideas? No way. Writing them down and saving them is just a way of honoring them and a way to amuse myself when I later look back and ask myself how I could have possibly thought that was a good idea. Yet maybe there really does need to be a musical written about Van Gogh. Joking…that doesn’t happen to be one of my ideas. Although, where’s my notebook?

The plus side of having so many ideas? If you ever find yourself fresh out of ideas, just give me a shout. I may not have great ideas (although at the time that I write them they are always “the best,”) but I certainly have enough to share.

How do you organize your writing (or other creative pursuits)? I’d love to know! I’m quite sure there are better and more effective systems out there. Wait, let me get my notebook first. There. Now, shoot.

Julie Brickman’s Two Deserts

Julie Brickman’s Two Deserts draws us into exotic worlds — both foreign and domestic —  that slowly reveal to us the unacknowledged and unknown layers of life in and around us all.

Brickman’s well-crafted stories expand exponentially with their deft movement, bittersweet insights, and unexpected humor. The book’s titles are often darkly humorous and always intriguing:”The Cop, the Hooker, and the Ridealong,” “Supermax,” and “The Dying Husbands Dinner Club” all live up to their titles.

One of the bravest stories is “Gear of a Marriage,” which consists of five pages of nothing but lists, starting with “Hiking boots, 2 pair,” and ending with, well, I won’t say what, but illness is involved. It’s the single most devastating story in the collection, its spare prose and unique form perfectly wringing from us an intense emotional reaction using matter-of-fact language.

Brickman explores various points of view as well: first, third, and the underrepresented second.  She’s not afraid to explore those vast deserts.

That Brickman has also been a psychologist benefits the reader as she zooms in and out of minds and psyches, of hearts and emotions. This is a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure collection for adults, although a more apt name might be “What Would You Do?” Constantly putting her characters into impossibly difficult situations, Brickman keeps us curious, longing, wondering. No matter in which desert we find ourselves, we find an oasis in this collection.

Nowhere is this better represented than in “The Cop, the Hooker, and the Ridealong,” where a psychiatrist muses “The end of subjectivity was the end of the only kind of truth that could steer a life, truth rooted in self-discovery, the stark naked truth generated by the guts.” This beautiful, deep sentence sums up this tender collection.

Smart, brave and true collections such as this one don’t come along often enough, and they certainly don’t get the attention they deserve sometimes because they are smart, brave, and true.  These stories certainly are.

Life Hack: Give the Greatest Gift

Greatest Gift You Can Give Someone Is Your Time

I have had some awesome teachers and mentors who have freely given of their time, and I treasure that. We can all make more money, but none of us can buy any extra time. (Although we can manage what we have better, perhaps.) As creative, we need to give back some of that precious time we have been given.

When I think of how I pestered and questioned my mentors, when I pulled every last shred of knowledge and insight from them that they could afford to give, I feel just a bit embarrassed. My enthusiasm can be, ah, a wee much. There. I admitted it. But they were patient, kind, and generous, God love them.  I wouldn’t be who and where I am today without them.

Make a list of two other creatives who could use some of your time. Do they need a card, a hug, a shout-out of their latest work? Today I read a beginner’s poem. It was fun for both of us, I think, although I did suggest he call his poem “The Thread Amendment.” I’m not sure he saw and/or appreciated the pun.

I instantly know when I’ve met a creative: I feel that magnetism. Sometimes it’s stronger than at other times. I can even feel what I call “repressed creatives.” But that’s a different topic for another day.

Give the greatest gift to another creative — give of your time. It doesn’t take very long to comment on a blog post, to share good news on Facebook, or to favorite an item on Twitter. Just do it. Let’s be there for one another!

P.S. The above photo and quote express well what I mean, but the photo isn’t quite my style. But you probably knew that already. 🙂

Life Hack: Power Hour!

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Sometimes we creative types can become easily overwhelmed. It’s not because we are flawed (never that!), but because we have so many great ideas.

I think I already explained that we are a bit, ahem, disorganized, but I am convinced that too much organization is a creativity killer. A little, however, can be helpful.

This leads me to my next life hack: Power Hour! It sounds like the title of a religious TV program, but it’s not.

Here’s how it works:

Are there little niggly tasks that never get finished? Or started? Don’t know where to start? Make a list of creative tasks — reading a blog and commenting, sending out a query, checking out contests, or maybe reading a writing magazine.

Got that? Great. Then all you need to do is schedule a “Power Hour” for the week. This is for tasks that you just aren’t getting to…like blogging, lol. Now use every minute of that hour to go, go, go! Do as many tasks as you can in that amount of time, and when you are finished, quit feeling guilty until next week’s power hour.

How much can you do in an hour? That’s what I thought.

Does an hour sound like too much? Fine, just start with half an hour, or even fifteen minutes!

Here are some things I can do in fifteen minutes:

1. Submit a story (or two, if I cut and paste my query) online.

2. Record all of the writing contests I want to enter for the month on my Yahoo! calendar, complete with reminders.

3. Print a story and stuff it in an envelope if it’s, sigh, for a snail-mail market. (Sorry, not a fan. Love the markets, just not the cumbersome process. I’m a creative, remember, not a clerical type. Some of my best friends are detail people, though.)

4. Research a residency and daydream about getting in.

5. Write on my “go-to” story.

6. Begin an essay.

7. Read an article or a story from one of the magazines that tend to pile up.

And that’s with only fifteen minutes! Now quadruple that for your Power Hour. What can YOU do with fifteen minutes? Or an hour!

What’s the advantage to doing this? It’s been my experience that we have to make time for the big picture things or the day-to-day will swallow the future. These little things should be those that will add to our lives, to our sense of having a future, of achieving our dreams some day.

Okay, that’s it. Creatives have a short attention span. Or maybe that’s just me. Squirrel…

With my “Power Hour” today I wrote and sent a query, called for sources on Facebook, and sent an email with questions to a source.

What will YOU do with a Power Hour? Share your ideas and let me know your progress!

“Swift” Speaking by The President of Ireland

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When our daughter was young, Barry would often read aloud to her. He once read an excerpt from “Gulliver’s Travels” and she giggled incessantly upon realizing what “making water” meant, bright child that she was. The next few hours found her laughing and repeating the phrase. I’m not entirely sure that’s what we wanted her to most remember (Or repeat. In front of her grandparents!), but she has never forgotten it.

While in Ireland recently, we were offered the opportunity to attend the Swift Satire Festival in Trim. It was a pleasure made doubly so by the President of Ireland who is not only a leader, but a scholar, giving the festival’s inaugural address.

The president spoke eloquently and with fervor about Swift, a man who had also been the dean of a local church in Trim, a town more recently distinguished for having the castle used in the movie Braveheart. (Pictures to come.)

Higgins ended his speech with a word to writers, one I shared today with my students, and one I take to heart:

“Without the engagement and passion of people, without the raised voice of the intellectual and the poet, without the willingness to engage in public discourse at the price of personal risk, without the willingness of the powerful and the well connected to feel such a thorn or scruple as will impel them to disturb the composure of their class and peers and go on to champion the cause of the marginalised and the excluded, we will not have a society which is worthy of the support and allegiance of all of the citizens.”

At the conclusion of his speech he shook hands with a few of his listeners. My husband and I were happily among those. Sad to say, our hands were too occupied to use our camera to record the event. But what’s the chance we’ll ever forget it, anyway?

Itchin’ to Write Fiction

I’ve been doing plenty of writing lately: essays, articles for magazines, and tons of lists: What to do Before Ireland, What Not to Forget to Bring, Academic Tasks to do Before Graduation, What to Buy for The Trip etc. (Can you tell I love making lists? I do! I find it calming to have it all out of my head and onto paper.)

While I have managed to write a (very rough) outline of another “weird food story,” I have not been as immersed in fiction lately as I enjoy being.  In fact, I’m missing it madly. Let me say that another way: I NEED to be in the middle of worlds in the making.

Yesterday as I was driving the title and another premise for a “weird” short story popped into my head.  I made a note as soon as I could and promised the nebulous character who appeared that I would get back to her as soon as I could. Then I pulled up short. Whoa! Did I vow to “get back” with a character, as if she were a caller on hold?? That, my friends, breaks every rule of fiction I hold dear. THE WRITER is the one on hold, and she’d better  be ready when the story is.  Suddenly I longed for it all to be over, the blessed, highly anticipated trip that hasn’t even begun, the graduation that I have worked so hard for, the once-in-a-lifetime workshop I will be a part of, the endless hours of writing on things that give me pleasure but not as much joy as my dear, dear friend Fiction.

What happens to you, writer friend, when you are deprived of your drug of choice, words? What about when you can’t spare a moment to sit in a cafe with a pen and tablet and invite the words to take charge? Do you find yourself feeling lethargic, moody, and “thinky,” as I do?  Do you find yourself without an appetite for much of anything? Yeah, that’s me.

I can’t spare much time tonight to write, but I will begin, even if I only have ten minutes. It will be a start.

So Dear Idea, New Character, who trusted me with your story, I apologize. Unformed One, please revisit me. Don’t give up on me. I will stop, drop, and write, because I’m just itchin’ to be writing fiction.

Standing Desks and Other Affectations

hemingway-standing-deskVirginia Woolf had one. Papa Hemingway had one. I’ve been contemplating one myself for a few years now, but not because they had one, and not because they’re trendy. I want a standing desk because they are better for one’s health, and because when I sit down to write, I can lose hours and arise, shall we say, stiff and sore?

Did you know that standing burns up to an extra 50 calories an hour? That alone would sell me on one, let alone the fact that I was sick on the couch the last two days (mostly) writing and that the last thing my restless body wants is to sit ever again!

I have flirted with a writing desk: there is a table on our sun porch that kinda works as one, except I’m afraid that if I get used to it I won’t go to my favorite cafe anymore, and that I might not shower or ever get out of the house, you know, the whole recluse thing. Because I could be that kind of writer. (That is NOT a good thing!)

If I thought no one would make fun of me at my favorite cafe, I’d bring in a box or a milk crate and use it as a standing desk,but I would feel as if I were at a lectern and I am afraid they might think that of me as well. So I may just have to stand at work, rather than when I write. Well, a woman’s got to start somewhere, hasn’t she?

Take a look at my guest blog on The Silent Isle!

I am honored to have been asked to guest blog on The Silent Isle, Anna Urquhart’s thought-provoking blog.  Why don’t you head on over and take a look and maybe leave a comment.  And DO sign up for her blog. It’s a must-read!

http://www.annaurquhart.com/2013/05/had-i-but-known-i-could-run-and-breathe.html

 

My Winning Story

 

I was pleased and humbled to learn that I am the winner of Spalding University’s “Leprechaun’s Legacy” contest. I’m sure they received many worthy stories, so it means a lot that I was chosen as the winner. That I was unanimously chosen means even more.  I have been given permission to post my story here, as well as the feedback the judges gave me. But first, a few thoughts.

My parents married on St. Patrick’s Day, so it’s a special day to me.  I don’t really do anything to celebrate (except make green beer sometimes), but I love it that my parents married on a holiday, and what’s more, that they didn’t realize it!  That’s so like my parents.

My mother possibly has a wee bit of Irish in her background, but as far as I know, that’s as Irish as I get. AND I’m graduating in Ireland this summer, so there’s another tenuous tie with Ireland.

ANYWHO…I have added the judges’ remarks below, and then, tada!, the story.

Drema,

 You accomplished so much in such a short story!  We thoroughly enjoyed the fun, at times hilarious and even dark, elements of your story.  The interview approach was a smart decision that gave this story a new feel, and the sarcasm/attitude from the leprechaun was very entertaining and consistent from beginning to end.  Three standout moments for us were the phrase “I want to throw up
 so I can hide it in my vomit” the moment when the leprechaun cynically offers his gold and suggests that it might even turn them into leprechauns, and of course the final statement “dumb bastard;”  these moments made us laugh and offered surprise, and such creative, even short moments that are so effective are a mark of a strong writer.  For these reasons, we unanimously decided that yours is the winner of our leprechaun story contest.  Congratulations and thanks for sharing your story with us!

And now, HERE is the story.  I hope you enjoy it. 🙂

Interview with a Proactive Leprechaun Lurking Outside an Irish Pub

Could you loosen your grip just a bit? I’m holding my pot of gold out to you, so why do you have me by the scruff of my neck?  Do you see a rainbow?  It’s almost midnight, of course you don’t, so let go, will you?

Please, take my gold, even though I’ve tended sheep for over two hundred years to earn it and now you want to just rob me.  What other group is subject to sanctioned mugging? The police won’t help, not a bit.  And that’s not even the worse part of being a leprechaun.

You ever hear of a female leprechaun?  You know why you haven’t?  Because they don’t exist.  That’s right.  Someone created a species without giving us a way to procreate.  Genius, huh?  Try not getting any action for as long as I have – that will make you cranky.  And forget about having children.  No, we don’t even have that basic right.  Who’s going to get my gold when I die?  I could will it to cats or some dumb shit like that, but you seem like a nice young man with a future ahead of you.   Thinking of college, are you?   I suppose you could use the money.

Do you mind if I smoke?  What do you mean you expected a pipe?  What’s wrong with a leprechaun sparking up?  If you’re going to college you’d better get over those stereotypical assumptions.   I’ve also played beer pong, but I don’t really like beer, especially when they color it green in honor of “my” day.  Do you know what I do on St. Paddy’s Day?  I hide!  All that green – did you ever eat anything that color that tasted good?

Forget all you ever learned about my kind because I hate green.  Despise it.  I want to throw up on all the green in the world just so I can hide it with my vomit.

And oh yeah, I caught you staring at my gold shoe buckles with your greedy eyes — not every leprechaun is a cobbler – I don’t even wear shoes half the time in the field.  What, you want these too?  I suppose I could hobble home, moneyless, shoeless.  Why not?  I’m just a leprechaun, invented for your thieving pleasure.

But my life is perfect, right, because I have this unlimited supply of gold? Then tell me why I’m not happy.  Why am I here in this alley more or less begging someone to steal my gold?  There’s only one way I will count myself lucky, and that’s if  you’re gonna take this gold from me.  If you do, I’ll be free from worrying about it, free from adding to it.  I won’t have to imagine that everyone is out to grab me so that I will lead them to my gold.  I won’t have to fear rainbows might be giving away my hiding spot.

Please, yes, do take my pot of gold.  It’s cursed, but only a little.  I’m not saying that your reproductive organs will shrivel, or that every female of your species will disappear if you take it, but you won’t know unless you do.  Maybe it will make you happy.

What, you don’t want it?  That’s just too bad.  I’ll have to stand in the alley behind some other pub until someone comes along.  Goodbye! Tell your friends I’m waiting.

Dumb bastard.

 

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