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Curiosity, Minus the Cat

Writers, by nature, are curious people.

We are always searching for the who and the where and the what, digging up answers from our psyche – or the psyche of an imagined character – to create story after story.

We question other writers, too, asking How do you do it? How do you survive the absence of your muse? What do you say to someone who doesn’t write, who rolls their eyes to find you hiding in the basement – again – huddled over your laptop?

How do you spend your days? We want to know. To answer this very question, Cynthia Newberry Martin hosts a guest author once a month. Every bit of detail I read in those posts either inspires me or connects with me in such a way that I find the confidence I need (yet again) to call myself a Writer.

So, it should be no surprise that writers get tagged now and then with three questions or twenty-five or (this time) eight. Suzanne Conboy-Hill and Ann M. Lynn both tagged me, and it’s taken me way too long to respond. I can whip out a flash fiction story in half a day. But, ask me something about myself, something I should be able to answer easy enough, and the first response you’ll hear are crickets.

…

“Me?” *nervous laughter*

SO, here are eight tidbits of information about me, along with links to three other writers whom you might want to check out for yourself. No formal tagging here – I took too long, game’s over I’m sure – just simple recognition.

And, thanks Suzanne and Ann, for the questions!

1. If you could have any superpower, what would you have?

Telepathy. There, I said it.

I won’t lie. I obsess about every submission I send out. Wouldn’t it be lovely to know the second an agent or an editor picks up my submission with their very own hands?

Yes or No. Yes or No. One flash of a thought in their minds, and I’m on my way – to strangle my muse or to celebrate. No wait times, no checking and re-checking the inbox, no more stalking the postman.

2. Who is your style icon?

If we’re talking wardrobes, then I’m in trouble.

For fashion guidance, I depend on the goodness of my friends. Friends with money and with taste. I accept hand-me-downs without hesitation, because – left to my own devices – I am a fashion disaster. So, if you see me wearing something sassy and in style, you can assume I got it from a friend.

3. What is your favorite quote?

It’s difficult for me to choose a favorite quote. There are so many great ones that I love about life and about writing. I latch on to one quote that strikes me on a particular day, but the same quote might not mean as much to me the next day. So, here’s one I’m holding onto this week from Mary McNamara’s recent article in the Los Angeles Times:

…[I]f you’re a writer, you don’t write for money or fame or a chance to dish with Oprah Winfrey. Basically, you write because when you’re not writing, you’re even more cranky than when you are writing.

Yep.

4. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

“Ever?” I have a terrible memory. That’s one reason why I write — because I forget the things I insist on remembering. Recently, though, my favorite compliment came from my daughter who’s almost four.

“You look beautiful,” she said. Her eyes traced my outfit from head to toe.

She ignored the three blemishes on my face that might suggest I’m fifteen and not forty. Then, she stopped at my feet and gave me the eye.

“Except for your shoes,” she said.

She’s anti-Birkenstocks, and her comment reinforces my answer to number two above. Left to my own devices….

5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?

Every year, Fall throws me into a melancholy mood. One of the ways I survive that mood is to play lilting music that rises and falls and lifts and carries. Ingrid Michaelson has been on my mind a lot. But the other day, this song struck my fancy:

6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?

A night owl. Late night hours are the most quiet times at my house. Plus, I’m just lazy before the sun comes up.

7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

To this I say “Achoo!” and “Pass the Claritin.” I love them both — from a distance.

8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?

I am forever running out of time. When I decided I wanted to pursue my writing for real, I knew I would have to do it during those moments in between — moments that are fleeting as soon as they start some days. And, I like hard and fast deadlines.

There you have it, more than you wanted to know. Now, along with Suzanne and Ann, here are three more writers whose blogs I read and tweets I follow — for inspiration, for lessons in the craft, and/or for a good laugh:

I’m off now, to practice my telepathy.

I’m sending you messages right now to leave a comment and retweet this post (stack those stats).

Just kidding.

(Sort of.)
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Wed’s Word Flash Fiction: Contraband

Every other Wednesday, on Writing Under Pressure, you’ll find a post based on Today’s Word (from Wordsmith.org). The goal of the exercise is to write something – an essay, poem, or flash fiction – by midnight. Past pieces can be found under Wednesday’s Word on the sidebar to the right.

~

If you’ve read Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl, Tony Morrison’s Song of Solomon, or even the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, consider yourself a rebel.

If you’ve picked up a copy of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak, you’re really going rogue.

Those books have all been challenged this year, some even removed from libraries. It’s Banned Books Week. For a list of challenged books – and the reasons why you shouldn’t (or should) read them, click here.

And, in recognition of Banned Books, Wordsmith.org has declared this week’s theme “words related to censorship.”

Today’s word:

excommunicate. verb tr.: To formally exclude someone from a group or community, especially from a religious community.

It isn’t pretty when you defy the norm.

*****

Contraband

When Ellen descended the stairs into the basement of Northcrest Mall and opened the door to Room A, her stomach flip-flopped. Maybe it was from hunger pains; she’d been fasting since four o’clock yesterday afternoon, after she ate that double fudge brownie she bought at the fifth grade bake sale. Then again, her tumbling stomach could have been a direct result of the look Ellen got from Patsy, who stood at the podium in the front of the room.

“Come on in Ellen.” Patsy’s invitation sounded like a dare with a hint of a threat.

Ellen took her place in the seat in row three, right next to the aisle. She’d been sitting in the same chair – religiously – every Saturday for the last six months.

“As I was saying, Ladies, fellow Weightloss Warriors,” Patsy began again, “there have been some rumblings of late.”

Ellen thought about the bagel she skipped at breakfast that morning. She thought about the plate of Pecan-crusted Tilapia she pushed away last night. “Upset stomach,” she’d told her date. “Stress at work,” she had lied. Then, Ellen thought about the double fudge brownie. She wondered if Patsy somehow knew.

Ellen caught Patsy’s eye just as she broke out into her weekly campaign on Weightloss Warriors’ commitment to pre-planned menus and abstinence and her caution against outside influences.

“If I remember correctly,” Patsy said, “someone in this room hit her goal weight two weeks ago.” Ellen looked down at her lap and studied her hands. “Ellen? Would you care to share?”

All eyes settled on Ellen in the third row. “Yes,” she said. She smiled apologetically. She announced her weight and the room broke out in a slurry of words: lucky, check the scale, and cheater.

“I dare say, Weightloss Warriors has done wonders for your physique and your confidence. Stand up for us, Ellen.” Patsy leaned over her podium. “Let us take a look at you.”

“Of course,” Ellen said. She stood and straightened her dress. She fidgeted with her hair. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. When Patsy gave the nod, Ellen sat down again and used her foot to push her purse further under her chair.

Patsy stepped out from behind the Podium and stood next to her seat.

“Ladies, what we have here is a real testimony to the kind of support, education and success we offer here at Weightloss Warriors. Ellen couldn’t have reached her goal without us.” Patsy put a heavy hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “Yet, despite our good services….”

Ellen shifted in her seat.

Patsy’s hand didn’t budge.

“…What we have here…is a Traitor.”

The room erupted into gasps and name-calling. Ellen sank under Patsy’s pressure.

“Martha! Hillary!” Patsy put both hands on Ellen’s shoulders. “Get her purse.”

“No!” Ellen screamed. She squirmed in her seat. “Please!”

But, it was too late. Despite their size, the women moved swiftly. Martha and Hillary were already crouched near Ellen’s feet. With their hot hands, they pulled at Ellen’s legs in an effort to grab her purse. One of the women twisted Ellen’s ankle trying to pry the purse strap out from under Ellen’s right shoe, and the other woman smashed Ellen’s toes on her left foot when she tried to lift herself off the floor.

Patsy held Ellen’s purse up high.

“What we have here, fellow Warriors, is a bag full of contraband.“

Ellen’s eyes darted across the room. Some of the women she’d known for her entire six months – like Betsy who brought Ellen Warriors’ frozen dinners when Ellen fell ill with the flu and Monica who picked Ellen up for meetings when Ellen’s car broke down – glared and growled at her now.

Patsy slammed Ellen’s purse on the podium. She unzipped the main compartment, and the room fell silent. Patsy took her time.

She uncovered two bags of Kleenex, a pop-up hairbrush, some make-up. She paused before she pulled out Ellen’s brand new pack of Bubblicious. Patsy tsk-ed when she held up the half-eaten candy bar. Then, Patsy looked out into the room and shook her head.

She found it, thought Ellen, as she held on to the edge of her seat.

“A Book!” Pasty boomed. She thrust it at the audience. “The very book we’ve warned you about!” Patsy laughed in condescension. ” ‘Weightloss the Natural Way’ — this book if full of lies!” Patsy slammed her fist on the podium.

Ellen jumped out of her seat, desperate to defend herself. “Walters is a doctor.” She scanned the room for at least one sympathetic face. Her eyes landed on Hillary. “He’s done research. It’s been proven time and again. It’s chemistry and nutrients and listening to your body, not scales or pre-packaged food!”

“Enough!” At Patsy’s order, Martha and Hillary lumbered across the room and took hold of Ellen’s arms. Ellen felt her body lift and glide down the aisle and towards the door. She twisted her head around towards the women left in the room.

“Exercise and moderation!” She cried. “Pre-portioned meals are a fallacy! Chocolate is not the Devil!”

Before the door slammed she let out her last cry, “Read the book!”

Ellen fell to the floor. Martha spit at Ellen’s feet. Hillary took hold of Ellen’s hands.

“Go,” she said. “Now.” And, she closed Ellen’s fingers around a torn piece of paper.

When Ellen reached her car, she read the note.

Call me, it said, please.

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Writing Without Using Labels

In the October 2010 issue of The Writer Magazine, Lynn Capehart writes a powerful article, entitled “The importance of inclusionary writing.” Before Capehart even begins her article, she asks a question that might stop any writer in his or her tracks:

Are you unwittingly saying more than you mean to in your treatment of characters of other races?

She doesn’t write about whether or not characters of color appear in our stories. She draws attention to the way some writers describe those characters when they do play a role. A description – or lack of description – of a character of color may fuel a sense of inequality. Capehart says that often  “[white] writers…will not mention race unless the character they are writing about isn’t white” (p. 34).

When I read that quote, I immediately thought of one example where I did just that. And, like Capehart points out, I did it without thinking. My choice, to include the race of a particular character in a story I wrote, never sat well with me. But, I had considered and re-considered my use of language. I thought I had a good reason for using that description. And, I never pinpointed the real source of my discomfort.

Capehart’s article suggests that I didn’t need to mention race at all. She does admit that sometimes “[a] writer will find it…constructive to the story, to simply mention a character’s race up front” (p. 34). But often, as proven by the writing samples Capehart analyzes in her article, the mention of race does little more than add a label to the character; it rarely adds texture.

The solution Capehart offers, in lieu of identifying race, is a technique writers turn to all the time when constructing narrative or dialogue — Show, don’t tell. Capehart says:

If a writer does a professional job constructing a character, readers will know the race without being told directly (p. 34).

She also highlights several benefits of using inclusionary language in our writing:

  • Inclusionary writing helps a reader see a character beyond their race, as an “individual with a unique set of talents and tics” (p. 34), and breathes much more life into that character.
  • Inclusionary writing shows respect for readers of color and, in doing so, broadens a writer’s audience.
  • Inclusionary writing gives each character the weight they deserve in the story, whether they play a major or minor role. As Capehart says, “[e]xclusionary writing diminishes any character who is not white” (p. 35).
  • Inclusionary writing supports equality, because “it treats all races alike” (p. 35).

To be fair, Capehart doesn’t let Writers of color off the hook, saying they must do their part to avoid labels as well and give white characters “the same relevance as nonwhite characters” (p. 35).

Capehart’s message throughout her article remains powerful, yet simple: a character is a character, no matter their gender or race. If I, as a writer, make an honest effort to study and describe each character as an individual, I am more likely to find myself writing inclusively.

*****

Capehart, Lynn. “The importance of inclusionary writing,” The Writer. October 2010: 34-35. Print.

You can also read Capehart’s article online here.

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