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3 Lessons for the Traveling #Writer

Traveling this week? I wish you disco hotels and fancy desserts and a good friend to boot. (This post originally appeared back in 2012)

Lesson 1: Whenever you can, take the train.

There’s something romantic about boarding the train, about climbing the narrow, metal stairs, suitcase in tow. About following the pull to your left and turning into a cabin full of rows and promise. You take your seat, gaze out the window, and float along with a landscape enveloped by the season. On this day, by a heavy snowstorm; the city streams by in a soft, white glow.

Quiet. Like a dream.

The conductor asks for your ticket. He punches twice, smiles once, nods and moves on. You take a picture to mark the moment.

Lesson 2: Whenever you can, take a friend.

Certain bits and pieces of life are best experienced in the presence of someone who puts you at ease, as you move through new spaces. Someone who’s traveling that same journey with you, who shares in your excitement about the future, about the things you want to do and the stories you want to write. Someone who looks you straight in the eye after you’ve said there’s no way you could apply for that two-week writing residency. Ever. Life would never allow for such extravagance, you say. To which she says, Maybe not right now. Reminding you that now isn’t the same as never.

Lesson 3: Whenever you can, take risks.

Say Yes to a late-night dessert. Order the gelato drizzled in salt and olive oil and find yourself saying, “Who knew.” Stay up until two-thirty in the morning, even though you know what “tired and over forty” feels like.

Soak up the fancy of a hotel you might never have visited before, except by the random choice of an online reservation site. A hotel dressed in straight lines and sharp angles and silver and lights and – somewhere in your room – hidden disco balls. A hotel with mirrored tiles that fracture your image and make you believe for a second that you really are living out a dream.

Make a list of all the things you will do this year, ignoring the committee in your mind that presses you with “impossible” and “come on!” and “who do you think you are?”

Write about “gasp-able moments,” sage advice learned from a writer friend’s young son.

And on the ride home, when you realize the train will travel backwards the whole way, sink into your seat and take in the irony of it all, how you’re being pulled out of the dream and back into the day. As if to say, Grab hold: of the energy, of the inspiration, of the call to take risks.

Because here we are, only once. There’s no guarantee you’ll succeed just by trying, but there’s promise to fail if you don’t.

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My Fairy Godmother of Writing

On a break this month to focus on the novel, this post is a much needed re-press.

I found her, my fairy godmother.

She’s short and spry and feisty. She wears a giant sombrero and spurred boots. She says things like “sugarfoot” and “let’s get crackin’” and doesn’t think twice about firing that golden pistol of hers into the air. She appears out of nowhere and just in time.

“What’s the matter with you, honey?” she asks.

I tell her I’m trying to write a novel. I explain about all the planning and the bulletin board in the basement, about the first-draft jitters, about the laundry that keeps getting in the way and the dishes in the sink. I say I need more time. A maid. I need to read more books on writing novels first. I’m afraid, I tell her, that I won’t get this right. I wait for her to weave some sort of magic.

But while I’m talk to her, she’s not directly talking to me. She lives in the pages of a children’s book by Susan Lowell, Cindy Ellen, A Wild Western Cinderella.

When she asks, “What’s the matter with you, honey?” she is eyeing up the young cowgirl, Cindy Ellen, who longs to go to a rodeo, ride the bronco, and win the heart of a young handsome son of a cattle king.

Whether you love or hate the Cinderella tale, there’s plenty of reason to appreciate Susan Lowell’s book. Lowell adds a fun twist to a familiar tale, making the story completely her own with her characters and language. It’s terribly fun to read out loud to your kids, especially when you’re a Texan who’s rooted in Wisconsin. I get to revive my Southern twang, say words like “gumption” and “Western fandango” and “you’ll be sorr-ee!”

Mostly though, I love the fairy godmother. She’s all sass, endearing as much as she is intimidating. Not all fluff and fancy. She calls it like she sees it.

“Magic is plumb worthless without gumption. What you need first, gal, is some gravel in your gizzard. Grit! Guts! Stop that tomfool blubbering, and let’s get busy. Time’s a wastin’.”

Words of wisdom fit for any writer.

There’s magic in crafting a novel. I still believe that. Characters appear out of nowhere. Dialogue sounds off in your head as if you’re remembering a conversation recently overheard. Words fumble and fail and then suddenly fall into line, “like little soldiers,” as Victoria Flynn said in a great post (which I want to link to but cannot find at this late hour!).

Magic.

But, none of it happens without gumption.

Sugarfoot.

“‘Hit the trail, honey!’ the old lady said.”

(She’s talking to you.)

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Taking Advantage of #NaNoWriMo

IMG_1941A few weekends ago, we headed to the Camp up north for the last time of the season. Once there, we took long walks in the woods, savored fires, and ate soup. We had a Glow-Dance party and a marathon of Words with Friends. Then, we began the process of closing up.

We hung shutters, drained pipes, pulled the main. I deflated several inflatables, which is about as fun and frustrating as blowing them up. We closed the boathouse, locked up the doors, said our goodbyes, and turned back onto the main road home.

Leaving behind a canopy of sunshine and the trees’ last leaves can make one melancholy. But, the idea of walking away for a short time can be also a good thing. A chance for us to focus on things closer to home.

November 1st began a 30-day writing spree for a mass of writers focused on cranking out the first draft of a novel. If you’re participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and you’re reading this, STOP READING RIGHT NOW AND GET BACK TO YOUR WORD COUNT. If you’re not participating in NaNoWriMo but (like me) you’re deep in the thick of rewrites and struggling to find the time to finish, STOP READING THIS RIGHT NOW AND GET BACK TO YOUR DRAFT.

That’s what I plan to do.

While I’m not participating in NaNoWriMo in the traditional way, I am piggybacking on the idea and the energy behind it, so I might push through my current draft. I call it, NaNoFinishThatDraftMo.

All that is to say, I’m taking a break from blogging this month.

Here’s the thing, though. Stagnant blogs make me nervous. So, for the next few weeks, you’ll see a tiny post here or a re-press of a post there. Something to keep your mind on reading and writing just the same.

Well then, here we go. Clickety clack and tally ho, and we’ll catch up in December!

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