Tapping the New Year with a Review, Advice, and a Rally Cry

The Review

FigTreeBooks_LogoRight at the end of 2014, my first freelance book review went live (you can read my thoughts on MEMOIRS OF A MUSE at Fig Tree Books here). Writing book reviews is a challenge for me, so it felt great to see this one reach publication. The key to such success–in this project and (I’m sure) in most writing–is a great editor. Erika Dreifus (Media Editor at Fig Tree Books) is such a person: friendly and professional and a woman with a keen eye. If you’re interested in writing reviews, check out Fig Tree Books and their Freelance Review Project.

The Advice

Speaking of the challenges we writers face, Paul Auster offers some great advice in this video, “How I Became a Writer.” One of my favorite quotes (about eight minutes in) reminds me that writing is more about exploration than perfection:

Screenshot 2015-01-05 16.36.15When I was younger, I wanted to make beautiful things. And then, as I got older and more experienced in [writing], I understood that’s not what it’s about. The essence of being an artist is to confront the thing you’re trying to do, to tackle it head on. And if, in wrestling with these things, you manage to make something that’s good, well…it will have its own beauty. But, it’s not a kind of beauty that you can predict. It’s nothing you can strive for. What you have to strive for is to engage with your material as deeply as you can.

The whole video is less than twenty minutes and well worth your time as you broach a new year of writing.

The Phrase I Will Repeat Most

I love the idea of a rally cry for a new year. Last year, I was all about Fearless Writing. This year, I’ve latched on to a post I read by Patricia McNair on Facebook:

Write more. Bitch less.

On that note, zip your lip, grab your pen and paper, get on that story.

Digging Deep or Taking the Easy Way Out

photo 1(3)I just spent a weekend in Texas visiting a good friend, stopping in tiny towns, driving down country roads where I saw much of what I miss when I think of home: pastures and barbed wire fences and unfettered land.

And pecans.

Everywhere there were pecans. Tossed near the gear shift in my friends car, placed in a basket in her pantry, stuffed in her kids’ stockings for St. Nick’s. And in that early morning hour when her girls found the nuts and insisted on eating them straight away, I was pulled out of slumber by the sound of shells cracking.

In the my half-sleep half-wake fog, I was taken back in time. I remembered my own small fingers around the handles of the nut cracker, the textured metal cold to the touch. The sound of the shell giving way. The sensation of pulling at the hard outside to reveal the tender insides of two halves nestled together. There was the thrill of using the nutcracker’s sidekick, the pick, to clear out any hulls and the Cheshire grin of my grandfather when I’d neglected one tiny piece and scrunched my face at the bitter aftertaste. No amount of water–or time…even now I cringe!–can kill that taste.

pecan pieNow rooted up north and far from any pecan trees, I’ve grown lazy. I bypass all the work and purchase the nuts already halved and prepared for a tasty pie. I don’t once think about the bitters. But swathed in memory last weekend, I wondered if I might be missing out by ignoring the meditative (and maybe even therapeutic) process of cracking the shell, finding my way to the good stuff within.

It never fails that these tiny moments in life lead me to writing. These days, I am faced with a few projects that cry out for me to dig deeper, to pry open, to uncover. The subjects are either very different from what I am used to or altogether foreign to my own experiences, and I’ll be honest. Many days I want to take the easy way out, dress up the surface with pretty prose and hope the middle holds. Am I lazy? Maybe. But most likely I’m simply afraid. Lisa Ahn, in her essay on Hippocampus Magazine, reminds me that I am not alone:

Every story, every essay is a push-back against fear, the insidious little whisper that says, “not this time, you won’t.” That first draft? It’s never pretty, never even close. I’m just hoping for a string to hold, a path, a backbone in the wreckage. Revision is an exercise in ruthless shearing, cutting off two sentences for every one I keep. The bridge from brain to paper is a devil of a crossing. Even when the story’s done, it’s an act of faith and daring to push it, hard, into the world, to gather the rejections, and send it out again. Every writer knows this. . . . Writing isn’t for the faint of heart.

So, yeah, I could avoid the work it will take to give these pieces the attention and depth they deserve, but that would mean missing out, perhaps sacrificing the story. While that won’t serve the reader well, it also puts me at a loss. Taking the easy way out, I pass on an opportunity to grow as a writer. Which leads me to a great quote from Antonya Nelson in her “Ten Writing Rules:”

Write into the mystery. Write what you do not know. Write without having any eyes looking over your shoulder. Write the way you would dress for a party: utterly naked and alone, at first, and then, finally, stepping out and asking a trusted companion “Do these shoes go with this romper?”

This journey of mine is slow and tedious and full of angst, qualities that may serve me well if I’m willing to pay attention. Dig deep or take the easy way out. Which will you choose today?

Bedtime Reading

IMG_1812This time of year, hibernation sounds like a good idea. The leaves are turning. The sun sits lower on the horizon. The Farmer’s Almanac is touting “more shivery and shovelry” this winter. Man.

What I want is a cozy corner and a big blanket.

What I’ll settle for is an extra pair of thermals, coffee in bed, and a list of good books to read.

The thermals are on standby; if I’m nice I may be handed hot coffee upon waking. For certain, I have the inside scoop on good reading.

IMG_1845Cheryl and Eric Olsen host a wonderful blog series on their website (We Wanted to Be Writers) called Books by the Bed for the sole purpose of sharing good reads. They recently published Best of Books by the Bed #2:

The second edition of the best posts from our most popular blog series features book talk from 28 guest contributors about more than 250 publications. Most of the volumes occupying this prime real estate are fiction, but there’s plenty of poetry and creative nonfiction as well.

A book lover’s dream come true….

This isn’t just a list of books that David Corbett is reading or ones that Dani Shapiro keeps close at hand. Best of Books by the Bed #2 gives you a look into the reading psyche of poets, novelists, and essayists.

For Tom Titus, the books that pile up on his nightstand are “explorations into the idea of Place, that little spot in the universe to which we have attached ourselves….”

Nichole Bernier notes that the stack at her bedside “represents a mix of research, pleasure, and sanity.”

And, my contribution to Books by the Bed–that’s right, I’m lucky enough to be included in this amazing group of authors–begins with Kim Carnes, touches on the life of a rat (you never know where a story will take you), and ends with me running to the bathroom in tears.

Good books will do that to you.

Order your copy of Best of Books by the Bed #2 here. Then tell me, what stories lie in wait by your bed?