At a recent SCBWI conference, writer Matt de la Peña spoke about the isolation we feel as writers in our inability to experience or see readers’ reactions to our work. We can hope a reader identifies with our words, our characters, our stories, but we cannot be inside our readers’ minds for the experience.
I am fortunate enough to see another play produced for the annual Orcas Island Ten Minute Playfest, and I was able to experience something unique for most writers.
The reaction of the audience.
And, yes, this can be a terrifying experience.
The play was based on a simple question: What happens when a man cannot give up his childhood obsession with Star Wars? I travelled to a galaxy of silliness. The play was written, revised, and rehearsed, but I still had my doubts.
What if they don’t laugh? What if they think my work is stupid? All of my insecurities bubbled up to the surface in an unpleasant brew of doubt.
Every night I sit in the audience and feel my body grow tense as I watch the crew set up the stage. What if something goes wrong?
The lights go out, the music starts up, and the magic begins . . .
When I write a play, I try not to visualize what the finished production will look like. I’ve learned that what comes out on stage will be drastically different than my imagination. This year, what the actors have gone beyond even my best dreams of a perfect production.
The Team
I’ve never been a team person. I’ve always preferred solitary activities, yet there is nothing solitary about producing a play. I feel like a runner who passes off the baton (my script), and the other runners (the actors and director) take it on to the finish line.
The results? AMAZING
“Clean up this mess!”
The audience?
Yes, they do laugh. I’m part of a powerful transformative thing, for it is all the plays—writers, directors, and the wonderful actors, who make this Force come to life and give the audience a piece of something powerful.
So, as I prepare myself to go back to my writer’s cave and work on revisions for my novel, I have one more night to experience in this very public and real connection between a writer and an audience.
Thank you for being a part of the journey.
The Master of the Force, Darth Jedi
Oh, and may the Force be with you, always.
For Poetry Month, I decided to share a poem about writing.
My apologies to Edgar Allen Poe for using the “tapping.” (Please don’t send a raven to my door).
Tapping on the keyboard
Hitting keys to communicate
Discard three hundred words for one
Still Not Happy
I lock myself in my room
Labeled antisocial, unconnected, overworked–
Disgusted with the letters I see on the page
Dreaming of the perfect words,
If only the connection could release like fire bolts from fingertips
Something magical
Superpowers!
Language sets me free
Imprisons me
Angers me
Excites me
Words worry me
Seeking escape
I must act
Make the connection
Tapping, tapping, tapping
for something worthwhile.
Spring arrived this week.
I took these photos on Monday:
Lovely Crocuses
Early Daffodils
A Lonely Snowdrop
On Tuesday I woke up to find . . .
Snow!
Fortunately, the snow left quickly.
I’m waiting now for some sunshine.
Happy Spring!
A recent article in the New York Times discusses the connection between a novelty-seeking personality trait and well being and success.
As I read, my heart began to sink. Though I do not like being stuck in a rut and avoid boredom at all costs, my personality could hardly be described as impulsive.
I’m not spontaneous; I’m a planner. On the Myers-Briggs personality scale, my “J” reading is pretty darn strong.
As the Queen of Irrational Fear and Worry, how could I possibly be known as a risk taker?
Does this mean I will not be successful?
(see, worry . . .)
Ah, but wait!
There is an area of my life where I take many risks. I free fall and dance naked in the moonlight. There is a place I can be completely impulsive and drop from the sky to ski down a cliff face.
That place?
My writing of course.
I plan and think about plot and direction. I ask the important questions: What do my characters want? Yet, another part of the writing is reckless. Free.
“Let’s do this and see what happens.”
I can try things in my writing I could never do in my everyday life.
When I don’t like what I’m writing, I most often find my challenges originate from my need to play it safe. Insecurity.
Only when I take a running leap from the mountaintop and scream in delight all the way down I find the magic.
Spontaneity = exhilaration. Can you feel the adrenaline rush?
Since the sun has been out, and I see signs of daffodils pushing up through the soil, I will go ahead and call it spring. I’m good at creating my own reality.
On a walk on Friday, my husband and I saw trumpeter swans on Cascade Lake.
Hi There!
Such a beautiful morning . . .
As the sun hit the rocks and the sides of trees, steam rose up and slowly evaporated.
I feel very fortunate to live on such a beautiful island.
This week marks my tenth anniversary of island life.
Sometimes this little rock feels crazy and claustrophobic.
But most of the time this little world feels as vast as the universe.
Possibility
and
Community.
I wish you a beautiful early spring.
Right now I’m in the middle of Dodie Smith’s delightful novel, I Capture the Castle (1948).
I’m not sure why I haven’t read this book before now considering my anglophile literature addiction.
I saw the film version a couple of years ago, so I know the plot. At its core, ICTC is a coming of age story told from the point of view of nineteen-year-old Cassandra living in a crumbling castle with her family in the 1930s. What draws the reader in is the cast of eccentric yet entirely believable characters. Literary references to other books, love interests, and, of course, many complications make the story highly readable.
What I am falling for is the story of a writer and the struggles of writing. Cassandra is writing about her life in her diary as a writer working on gaining experience, yet it’s not just this is what happened to me today. The narration reveals the challenges faced by writers, this is what I’m attempting to portray through words today. At one point, Cassandra reflects on her writing about her feelings for a boy named Stephen and is terrified of her own honesty, “I should rather like to tear these last pages out of the book. Shall I? No—a journal ought not to cheat.”
I would agree. Any good story ought not to cheat.
A sunset from Malibu.
The end of the year, and the start of a new one.
The end of one story, and the start of a new one.
Yesterday I completed revising and editing my novel, Never Fall.
The revision process for this particular manuscript felt like an epic journey of sorts, so I felt like celebrating a little. At the very least, I could give myself a pat on the back.
I finished another story.
Well, not quite. For I’m sure more editing and revising will follow.
The process isn’t quite done yet.
Still, I consider my work a milestone. I finished.
On to the next project . . .
Recently, while perusing in-flight television, I happened upon an interview with the director for the film The Artist.
I haven’t yet seen the film, but Michel Hazanavicius captivated me with his passion and commitment to the artistic process. He emphasized the value of the story and considers this the heart and magic of what captivates us.
I agree.
Story.
The story keeps me falling in love over and over again with the the process of writing.
Today, I embark upon another journey. A new story.
I hope this year will bring you many new stories and milestones.
Happy 2012
It’s seventy degrees with perfect blue skies. This is far removed from my usual rainy and soggy island.
Driving along Pacific Coast Highway, I spied the mist spray of a whale surfacing in the calm waters. It’s early for gray whale migration, but I imagine that’s what I saw.
If I believed in omens, I would say this is an omen for good things to come. For I am sure in a fictional world a gray whale would be my familiar.
Or, perhaps I’ve had too much sun today.
I spent the afternoon on Leo Carrillo Beach. With craggy rocks, caves, and tide pools, this beach is probably my favorite of all.
I wish everyone happiness and good things to come for the new year.
I meant to post photos I took in November, but I had some challenges getting my photos off my camera.
I’ve solved the problem, so here is fall, a month late . . .
I found my eyes following the patterns
The brilliant yellow of this big leaf maple tree
Now, a month later, darkness takes over, so I appreciate the little glimpses of sunlight
Making magic on the hillside.
I had to shop for new jeans this past week. I’m not fond of shopping for jeans.
Women’s jeans come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Besides the obvious choices–skinny, boot cut, or flare, I had to decide if I needed a tummy tuck, a uplift (for the back), and a flattering wash (whatever that’s supposed to mean). I remember when I would just buy jeans based on my waist and inseam size. Those days are so over.
Prices run from below $20 to over $200. This is absurd. The expensive jeans promised miraculous changes for my body, and the saleslady assured me the expensive jeans would make me look fantastic. I felt less than fantastic when the waist came up to rib cage and my rump looked like an indigo pancake.
I’ve been fortunate enough not to gain much weight as an adult, but I’ve dropped two sizes. How can this happen? Note to jean companies: I am NOT flattered when a size that once fit is now too large. Instead, I am ANNOYED because I have to go out and find another size to try on.
Christmas songs piped into dressing rooms are not comforting when trying on jeans. It also doesn’t help that it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet.
After trying on countless pairs, I finally found a pair that fit well in the juniors’ section for nineteen dollars.
Take that expensive jeans with empty promises!
