EXERCISING MIND AND BODY

June 3, 2014 By

IMG_1643It’s June. Half the year is shot. I was glad to see winter melt into spring, but the worst of Virginia weather is before us with its heat and humidity. Summer is not my favorite time of year here.  Spring and the fall are my favorite seasons at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  On the best of days the temperature is just right, somewhere in the mid-seventies. There’s usually a nice breeze and lots of sunshine. Often afternoon showers water my garden for me.

I rise early, walk the dogs, then I leave the dogs behind and go on what I call a “Hood Hike.”  I pick up my speed and get my heart pumping, rather than lollygagging around every shrub and blade of grass, so that Max and Sam can read the doggie newspaper.

There are lots of hills in the neighborhood. They work just about every muscle in my lower body.  A former neighbor named the worst one, “Killer Hill.” I don’t even like driving up it.  It feels like I’m shooting for the moon.  But it’s rather short and sweet and I try to do it a couple of times a week to really get my heart going. I’ve seen several people run up, but I’d rather die.

This past winter on one of our worst snow days, the kids in the area built moguls on that snowy incline, sliding down on sleds and trays over, and through their hand-made obstacle course. Parents stood at either end guarding the route so that nobody would get hit by a car.  Most of us never use that hill under those conditions anyway. It’s too steep and would be impossible to navigate unless you have four-wheel drive.

With warmer temperatures just days away, I’m beginning to plan my summer exercise strategy.  On hot days I’ll get up even earlier to walk.  But if I can’t get myself out of bed, I’ll use my old cross-trainer in my air-conditioned studio.  I could also walk at dusk, but sometimes it’s even too hot then.

For a few years now I’ve often spent hot days cooling off in my neighbors pool. But they’re filling it in now.  I don’t blame them a bit.  It’s a lot of work to keep a pool clean. They also have two young grandchildren who visit frequently.  Those kids would need to wear life preservers all the time to keep the adults from stressing out. However, there is a very nice city pool nearby that I’ll probably start going to during lap time, when there are no kids making waves.

Exercising my mind, I’ll spend several hours each day sitting at my computer as I rewrite my memoir.  I have already gotten started and am having lots of fun with it. I enjoy this part of the process even more than writing the first draft.  Now I have all the puzzle pieces before me. All I have to do is put them back together again in a new way.  It’s like working on one of those huge, complicated jig-saw puzzles you open up when you visit the seashore during the late fall or early winter and the wind is howling. It’s too cold to walk on the beach and you don’t feel like reading.

It is easier said than done, of course. There is always lots of frustration included in the fun.  But when the puzzle is finally put together in just the right way, it spells out masterpiece.

What do you do to  exercise your body and brain during the heat of summer?

 

Filed Under: Exercising, Healthy Living, Memoir, Mental Health, Puzzles, The Seasons, Writing Tagged With:

The Creative Nonfiction Writing Conference In Pittsburgh

May 27, 2014 By
Dale Chihuly's art glass at the Phipps.

Dale Chihuly’s art glass at the Phipps.

I’m home from a great weekend in Pittsburgh, where I spent my days with other writers as we explored the genre of Creative Nonfiction, hosted by the magazine of the same name.  Held at the University Club at the University of Pittsburgh, the setting was perfect.  I stayed in a hotel in the neighborhood and enjoyed my morning and late afternoon walks back and forth.  Though I’m not one for sitting for long periods of time, my interest was held firmly by the presentations and the information I received.

Friday was all about the publishing process. Presentations about the role of literary magazines in a writer’s career, self-publishing, the benefits of going with a small press, and crowdfunding by experts in the their fields were helpful.

I especially enjoyed talks by Dinty W. Moore, writer and editor of Brevity, an online magazine that publishes creative nonfiction essays of  750 words or less.  Lee Gutkind, founder and editor of Creative Nonfiction magazine, imparted with great wisdom and enthusiasm, his love for the genre along with its history.  He is considered by Vanity Fair, to be the Godfather behind the nonfiction movement.

Editor and agent, Emily Loose, brought insight to the ever changing landscape of the publishing industry, helping us to explore the pros and cons of both traditional publishing and self publishing. For those interested in crowdfunding, CEO of Inkshares, Larry Levitsky, spoke about his company. Hattie Fletcher, of In Fact Books, and Michael Simms, of Autumn House Press, discussed working with a small press.

Saturday, was my favorite part of the conference.  “Style & Substance: The Craft of  Creative Nonfiction,” and it’s various aspects were discussed by Dinty W. Moore and Lee Gutkind. They were followed by novelist and memoir writer, Jane Bernstein and then memoirist and nonfiction writer, Peter Trachtenberg.  I was inspired by every word they had to say and felt I’d fallen into a delicious garden of wisdom.  As a result, I’m beginning the rewrite of my book all over again to hopefully include some of the ideas they passed on.  That same afternoon I had a private consultation with Emily Loose, who gave me some excellent advice about approaching an agent and the need to take one’s time in the editing process.

On Sunday morning I went a writing session where CNF’s Boot Camp style of writing prompts and motivational techniques were used.  I discovered that I have more difficulty writing with pen and paper than I do writing on my computer.  It used to be just the opposite.   In the afternoon, I met with Dinty Moore and six other writers for a critique of the work we had all brought to the conference.  It was extremely helpful and validated the thoughts I’d had the previous day about how to make my memoir even better than it already is :-).  I loved it.

In between all that, I was given a fantastic tour of the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Garden, by a fellow writer and new friend.  I loved seeing the glasswork of Dale Chihuly, tucked into the lushness of the gardens.  I also helped my husband, scout out St. Anne Cemetery for the graves sites of several of his ancestors.  He spent his weekend exploring graveyards and old houses, getting ready to do some writing about his family of origin.

We also enjoyed fabulous food. Legume, a farm to table restaurant, and Paris 66, a French bistro, were Bill’s and my favorites. I even managed to stay with my gluten and sugar-free way of eating without missing the sweetness of outragious desserts or the tang of freshly baked sourdough bread right from the oven.

I would highly recommend this conference to anyone who is in the throws of starting or is in the midst of a nonfiction writing project.  I learned a lot and enjoyed my time surrounded by other writers, all of whom had their own wisdom to share. I enjoyed the laid back atmosphere without sales hype, just the passing along of valuable information. Maybe I’ll go again next year!

Filed Under: Books, Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, Travels, Writing, Writing conferences Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

How To Write A Synopsis

May 20, 2014 By

IMG_1117I’m getting a lot of exercise these days. I don’t mean working out at the gym or hiking in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains just thirty minutes from my doorstep. It’s my brain and fingers that are getting the exercise. After having sent the first draft of my memoir, ME, MYSELF, AND MOM, A Journey Through Love, Hate, and Healing, to a number of beta readers, I’m now in the midst of a rewrite before I send it off to a developmental editor.

A month or so ago I started reading Brooke Warner’s, How To Sell Your Memoir.  I put the book down just after reading the section about writing a synopsis.  I thought I was getting ahead of myself and figured I’d  go back to it later, after I’d finished my rewrite. But life has a way of doing its own thing. While I waited for two of my readers to get their comments and recommendations to me, I put my rewrite on hold. I wanted to see all the comments together before I jumped in.

Not wanting to waste time, I contacted a developmental editor who had been highly recommended to me by a writing friend. Yes, he was interested in working with me.  He liked my website and said it sounded like I had a powerful story to tell.  He then asked me to write a synopsis of my book … a page and a half in length … so that he could see where I was going.  Having recently finished reading that section  in Brooke Warner’s book, I said, “I can do that. I’ll get it off to you in a few days.”  I figured it would be easy. It took me a good week and a half to finally get it together. I’ve never sweated so much in my life. It seemed an impossible task.

When I showed it to my writing coach, Kevin, he said it would suffice for my editor, but that it  had to be rewritten if I was going to use it to sell my book; as in sending it to an agent or publisher, or anyone else for that matter.  “You’ve left out some of the most important details,” he said. “You need to sell yourself and your story in order to get attention.” For me, an introvert, that’s easier said than done. I’m not good at self praise and don’t like to sound like I have a big head.

I began to rewrite it, figuring it would be a great thing to take along to the Creative Nonfiction Writing Conference I’m planning to attend this coming weekend in Pittsburgh.  I added some key elements, and then got caught up in rewriting my book after those two readers finally sent me their comments.

As I started gathering  materials to take with me, I remembered I’d signed up to be in a small critique group.  They asked a piece under 3,000 words. If it is to be part of a book, it was suggested I send a one paragraph synopsis along with it. I thought, “Okay, maybe a one paragraph synopsis will be easier than the two page job.“ 

But how do you tell a long story in one paragraph? It took me three days to do it. It was so hard. I think I need to get involved in writing flash memoir, something that other writers have been talking about lately.  Anyway, I sent it in with a chapter from my book.

Then a few days ago, I got an email saying that Amy Loose, an independent editor and agent  who would present a talk on, “Publishing In The Digital Age,’’ was also available for one-on-one meetings with conference attendees.  Still not knowing whether I want to self-publish or go with a small press, I figured meeting with her could only add to of my knowledge.  So I signed up and got started on …  Yes, another synopsis.  This time the requirements were for one page, double spaced. Yikes!

I’m working on it … Pulling apart the longer version and taking a look at the single paragraph to see how I can come up with something in-between.  It’s making me a bit looney.  I’d rather work on the  Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. But damn, I am learning how to do this.

Still at work on the original synopsis, along with my book rewrite, I’m finding the more hours I put in the easier it gets.  I plan on taking all three synopses with me this weekend.  The book will wait until I get home.

Do you find writing synopses hard?

Filed Under: Memoir, Travels, Writing Tagged With: , , ,

Doubt

April 1, 2014 By

DSCF0803As I sent the last of my first draft manuscripts out to my beta readers and heard the whooshing sound that my mac provides, telling me it was sent, I had second thoughts. “Oh my God, what have I done? I should have rewritten it again. Everyone will see how badly I write and how boring I can be.  I know I’m very repetitive.  My grammar is awful and my spelling is worse. They’ll hate it, I’m sure. I should have just written it for myself and forgotten the publishing part.”

On and on I went staging a pity party, and doubting myself, until I realized that horrible inner critic of mine was on the prowl, giving me a hard time, and shaking the ground I stood on.  But then I snapped to, and started fighting back.  “It’s just a first draft.  Sure it’s not perfect.  My grammar and spelling stink.  So what! That will all be taken care of later when I hire a professional editor. How would I be able to fix it if I didn’t send it out to others so that they can help? I’m way to close to it right now.  I need to go out and work in the garden or take a walk. And you, Doubting Dotty …  you can just take your words and flush them down the toilet. ”

That tirade continued for another fifteen minutes before I realized that my neck was sinking between my shoulders, I had a headache, and the pit of my stomach was roiling.  It was time to let it go.  I was turning myself into an anxious mess.

I went out into the garden and started removing the dead leaves of the hellebores I so love at this time of year. Their spotted white, pink and purple flowers are a bit late this year. They’d been beaten down and battered throughout our amazingly dark, cold and snowy winter.  They need to bathe in the warm spring light. When I was done they were all standing tall and breathing deeply.

I decided to do the same thing.  Doubting Dotty isn’t in sight and I hope she stays away forever.  But I know all too well, she has a way of sneaking in the back door when I’m not looking.  She’ll probably be back in the near future.  When she shows up again I’ll just go out into my garden, get my hands dirty, and be with my plants.

Filed Under: Fear, Navigating Through Life, The Garden, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

What Have I Done With My Former Self?

March 25, 2014 By

DSCF0597This past weekend I spent time at The Virginia Festival of the Book.  It’s a yearly event that pops up every March, bringing readers and writers together to share their love for words, books, and the pleasures of writing.  Once I was a participant when I did a poetry reading with the members of my poetry group.  But that was centuries ago and being in a group of other poets, I didn’t feel terribly vulnerable.  In the past few years I’ve been an attendee taking note of what is happening in the world of writing and publishing.

As I considered and then started writing my memoir over the last few years, I wanted to know what the climate was like out there. Being shy, anxious and intimidated by experts, I’d spent years working extremely hard selling my visual art. I also self-published an instruction book about an obscure rug hooking technique long before self-publishing became a hip thing to do.  Within the art community, I found other artists, agents, and galleries to be a very mixed bag of friendly and unfriendly beings often with noses stuck up high in the air.  I hated making cold calls to galleries, museums, and trying to get myself noticed.  It went fairly well and I was showing my work across the country. But feeling overwhelmed by having to be a sales person, which I wasn’t, I signed up with an agent who claimed she’d get my career of to a great start.  A couple of years later, having paid her up front for work that wasn’t helping me much, I fired her because she was all about making money for herself and not considering me, her client.

On the other hand my book, Australian Locker Hooking: A New Approach to a Traditional Craft, which I originally published back in the ’80s, was very successful because I knew who to market it to.  At the time I had a small flock of sheep and angora goats.  I spun their fleeces into yarn, dyed the wool with natural dyes, and wove or knitted the yarn into sweaters and a variety of other goods.  I knew other weavers and spinners all over the map and belonged to all of the organizations weavers and spinners belong to. It was the hippy, back-to-the-land era and I bet on the fact that this particular technique would turn out to have a hot market. I went to conferences, wrote articles for magazines, advertised to the niche I belonged to and ended up reprinting that book a number of times. I sold a total of eight thousand copies to shops and individuals all over the world before being a book seller got old. I wanted more out of life. I tried getting a publisher interested in taking it over but found no one game to take on this “small” project.

A few years ago, when I was told that writers had to build their own platforms and do their own marketing, I was not a happy camper. I wanted to write, not put myself out there even before I finished writing my intended book in order to sell it. I had been there, done that. Entering my 70th year I wanted to have time to do a bit of traveling and simply enjoy life. I had mistakenly believed that once a book is under contract with a publisher, that entity takes over all the dirty work like marketing.

But being passionate about getting my story down on paper and believing it has the potential to help readers who find themselves traveling down the same road I had, I decided I’d move forward with the project.  Even through the darkest of days, I made myself believe that my book would happen and that someway, someday, it would sit on bookstore shelves and sell.

As I pull the pages of my first draft together, I need to think ahead and begin exploring whether or not I will self-publish it, as I originally intended, or send it out to a few small publishers which several people have encouraged me to do. Either way I’ll need to do most of my own marketing. Both options have pros and cons.

That is what made the Festival of the Book, so valuable to me, this past week.  I talked to a small, nearby publisher, I talked to agents, and independent publicists to see what was what.  I talked to other writers, some of them at the same stage I’m at. They were all friendly, helpful, and encouraging. But what amazed me the most was my own behavior and reactions to them. I was not shy. I was not anxious. And I was not intimidated as I had been just a few years ago, when my inner critic told me I was stupid if I thought I could write a memoir. I suddenly realized those experts were in the same ballgame I’m in. They want to sell books and I want to sell my book.  I’m looking at them the same way they’re looking at me,  trying to judge whether working with any of them would be a fit.

Part of me had been dreading opening the publishing can of worms, but this past weekend I found it exciting to be doing the work.  On Sunday, when it was all over, I found myself, feeling low and let down.  I wanted more. As intimidated as I felt signing up to attend a nonfiction writing conference a few weeks ago, I’m now excited and can’t wait to get there and see what happens.

In the meantime, I’m happy but wondering what the %$#? happened to my former self and who is this new person living in my body now?  Isn’t change great?

 

Filed Under: Books, Change, Memoir, Navigating Through Life, The Virginia Festival of the Book, Writing Tagged With: , ,
« Previous Page
Next Page »