Q&A: Leesa Freeman, THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE

‘Hi, I’m Todd and I’m an addict…’ I stared into the watery black coffee in my cup, searching for answers that weren’t there.
~ from THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE

WisdomLeesa Freeman stopped by the blog in November with a guest post about her journey to publication. I invited her back to talk more about her debut novel and  some of the decisions she made when writing the book.

THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE tells the story of a young man on his path of self-discovery, navigating relationships (old and new) while doing his best to stay sober. When I read this book, I wanted to ask Leesa about common issues all writers face: writing from unfamiliar perspectives, tackling intimate scenes, and tried and true advice.

I’m honored Leesa returns for an interview and am offering a giveaway at the end. Drop your name in the comments for a chance to win a signed copy of THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE (random.org will choose the winner on Tuesday, January 14th).

Now, welcome Leesa!

CC: Writing a novel challenges an author in many ways, the choice of perspective being one. THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE is told through the eyes of a young man who, after a football injury, becomes addicted to drugs and lands in rehab. What was the biggest hurdle in starting out from this point of view (which I imagine was foreign to you in a myriad of ways)?

headshotnewLF: When the idea for this story came to me, there wasn’t a question in my mind that it had to be told from Todd’s point of view. There was a lot I didn’t know about him – that he was a recovering addict, for instance – but I had this overall idea about who he was and just couldn’t get him out of my mind. That said, I had no idea how to write as a guy and the last thing I wanted was for it to come off as some stereotypical dude, or worse, a chick’s schmaltzy version of a guy. I spent a long time writing some really bad stuff, paralyzed and struggling until I realized something fundamental: I wasn’t writing a guy who happened to be a person, but a person who happened to be a guy.  Once I figured that out, writing Todd became much easier because those fears and inhibitions began to disappear.

CC: I don’t typically ask this next kind of question, but here goes. I’ve read my share of sex scenes in books: some smooth and well-written; others thrown at the reader in such a way that is more jarring than exciting (and even a bit rude). The passionate moments in your book unfold naturally within the storyline and never feel gratuitous. There’s a real art to making those kinds of scenes work. I have avoided writing sex so far; my stories haven’t called for it, but I admit I’d be hesitant to try even if they did. From a craft perspective, what’s one tip you could offer a scaredy-cat like me?

LF: I guess the most important thing advice I can give is to write for yourself first. That includes sex scenes as well as anything else. If I sit wondering how a reader will react to how a scene happens, I’ll never write anything. I can’t predict what will turn a reader on – or off – and I don’t try. What I do try to do is figure out what will turn my characters on, what will satisfy them, then I make sure that those scenes add to, rather than detract from the overall story. If it is sex just for sex’s sake, it gets deleted, but if it needs to be there to enhance the story and move it forward, then it stays.

CC: Tell us about your next big project.

LF: I’m in the process of looking for an agent for my novel Into the Deep End about a young man, Luke Stevenson, who has been talked into (guilted into?) working at a summer camp for kids with Spina Bifida. As a paraplegic, he has more in common with the kids than he realizes, but he is still angry from the car accident and mourning the death of his twin sister. It takes Luke time to understand that his personality is not dependent on his body, nor is his capacity to love another dependent on his ability to walk.

CC: What are you reading these days?

LF: I just finished John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, which I loved, but I’ll read just about anything so long as it is well-written, has fascinating characters, and a rich storyline.

CC: What is one piece of writing advice that has stuck with you throughout your journey?

LF: I love the Holley Gerth quote, “Be courageous and write in a way that scares you a little.” What that means to me is I can be complacent and write something that simply skims the surface of a topic, and it may be lovely and beautiful, but I don’t know that surface writing can truly touch the reader. I don’t believe that surface writing will stay with the reader long after they close the book. To create something memorable, I need to push myself, scare myself, and explore the depths of my own emotions so the reader can also explore the depths of the character’s emotions. That is my job, and if I do it well, perhaps my characters will become as real to the reader as they do to me, not just words on a page, but living and breathing people with their own hopes, dreams, and fears.

A native Texan, Leesa Freeman enjoys escaping the chill of New England, if only in her imagination, often setting her stories in the places she loved growing up. Some of her favorite moments are the ones where it’s just her, her Mac, and simply conversing with the people who live inside her head, and sharing their lives with those who take the time to read her stories. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and two daughters, where she is also an artist, avid baker, a self-proclaimed music snob, and recovering Dr. Pepper addict. Visit her website and follow her on Facebook.

Don’t forget: Leave your name in the comments for a chance to win a copy of THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. 

You and Me and a Blank Slate

file000231093664Hello, Brand New Year.

I’ve been so busy these past several days measuring and mixing, stirring and simmering, putting out presents. Hosting. Eating. I’ve barely had time to prepare for your arrival.

What to do on this first day together? Just you and me and a blank slate.

It would be easy to write out a New Year’s list. I love lists. I always feel so organized and fired up and well, a little more prepared for the unknown. But you know what would happen if I put pen to paper today? I’d think too long about 2013, about what I did or didn’t do and about what I wish I hadn’t done. I already spend too many hours looking back. You don’t know that about me yet, but you will.

Speaking of looking back (see what I mean? Already, day one…), I was sitting at a table a few Sunday’s ago with a group of people, talking over Letters and Papers from Prison written by a Lutheran Theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Bonhoeffer who, right? That’s what I said. And, theology? You thought this was going to be a whimsical talk about the new year, thought I might bust out with my outline of writing goals. Maybe you’re wondering why, on that particular Sunday morning, I wasn’t sitting at a coffee shop working on that novel? A very good question. I can see you’re going to keep me to task this year. But, to answer your question would mean going over the list I mentioned, and you might get confused why I would put “avoiding the novel” under things I did and not under things I wish I hadn’t done. So, hear me out.

First off, I wasn’t doing much of the talking at the table. Mostly, I was obsessing about the fact that I didn’t grow up Lutheran and I’d never heard of this Bonhoeffer fellow, who was apparently quite important and influential, and it sort of felt like one of those moments when you’re a writer and you’re sitting in a room with a bunch of other–really great–writers who know their stuff and you think, my god, they’ll finally see how I’ve been faking it all this time. Like, maybe, if I feign ill, I could cut out quick, before things fall apart. You know? These people were smart.

Anyway, I didn’t cut out. I had committed to this Bonhoeffer business. Plus, I was a little penned in between tight seats and sitting right across from the pastor (a kind-hearted man, no doubt, but still…the pastor). So, I stayed. Good thing, too, because, just after my obsessive string of thoughts tapered off, someone read aloud from one of Bonhoeffer’s letters where he quotes a verse in Ecclesiastes:

Everything has ‘its hour’: [‘]…to weep and…to laugh:…to embrace…and to refrain from embracing;…to tear and…to sew…and God seeks out what has gone by.’

Now, I don’t know if you favor Lutherans or if you’re pro-Universe. You’re just a New Year. What does it matter? Focus in with me on those first four words:

Everything has its hour

Even the elusive words of a theologian in prison. That’s when I started paying attention, and that’s when, as the same someone continued to read Bonhoeffer’s interpretation of the verse, I heard a message that fits right in with you and me and Auld Lang Syne:

[W]hen the longing for something past overtakes us–and this occurs at completely unpredictable times–then we can know that that is only one of the many ‘hours’ that God still has in store for us, and then we should seek out that past again, not by our own effort but with God.

You know what I love about that passage? Validation that nostalgia “overtakes” us (I love that word)–when we least expect it. So, looking back is inevitable. I can’t help it, and neither can you. Everything has its hour: joy, regret, anticipation. Those lists of what I did or didn’t do? They’re acceptable, even encouraged. But there’s more.

I have to take care not to seek out the past–or the future, for that matter–alone or I will get lost. You don’t have to be Lutheran or religious of any sort to appreciate Bonhoeffer’s words. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reminisced over 1992 and lost hours in the current day, and it had nothing to do with going to church.

…we should seek out that past again….

Maybe I do that in conversation with God.
Or, over coffee with a good friend.
Maybe I reason things out with my Dad late one evening, after we’ve just said goodbye to someone who lived a long and full life, when hearts are open and the house is quiet and the crescent moon hangs down instead of upright. Holding water as my Dad would say.

Holding. At a standstill. But not for long.

Lots to imagine, Ms. Brand New Year, lots in store. It’s 2014. …Fourteen! 

My word, this calls for more coffee.

Life is in the Details

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A good ice storm will slow you down. Send you walking instead of driving. Make you wait.

I was caught in the thick of the ice this last weekend having flown home to Texas to spend time with loved ones, and in the first few days, I did a lot of waiting. Waiting for the roads to clear, waiting to be told what I could do to help with my grandmother’s funeral, waiting for the inevitable.

Waiting isn’t all bad, though. It pulls at your perspective until you notice less of the big picture and more of what’s right in front of you.

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It tethers you to a moment in time.

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For the last several days, I’ve sat quiet, looked at old photos, listened to stories. Filled in gaps in my history. I would not have wanted those moments to be rushed.

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~

While I was home, a piece of my fiction was published online, a story that speaks of something similar: slowing down, looking back, finding that lifeline. You can read The Continental on Deep South Magazine HERE.