Read, read, read.

"Read, read, read. Read everything—trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the most. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out the window. -- William Faulkner

I love to write. I love being a writer. There is a school of thought that in order to be a better writer, one must read, and read a lot. I have recently felt like I had no time to read, I was having enough trouble just finding the time to try to work on the revisions of the book (or was that just a good excuse).

Over the last couple of weeks, however, I have read, quite a bit actually. My to-read stack was growing, threatening to spill over and bury me under the masses of books I keep buying and meaning to get to next. I had told myself that I would finally read some of the books by women who are also members of She Writes, as well as some by other favorite authors.

For those of you that write, I wonder, have you ever had that feeling while reading, that thought, “oh my god, I could never write this well, or this smart, funny or heart wrenching a story?” I have, in fact more than a few times recently.

Part of that I am certain is just my own insecurities finding new excuses to think about giving up before having to measure up.

I find it amazing though, that at those exact same moments that the thought that I cannot do it flits through my brain and settles somewhere in amongst the gray matter, there is also an adrenaline rush, a quickening of my heart as I know I want nothing else than to sit down and write. There is a slight tickling at the back of my brain, tiny sparks and glimpses of a story, a plot, a place, a character flash into the front of my brain, for just that second and I can’t wait to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard.

So what have I been reading? I started on the plane ride to Philadelphia with Meg Waite Clayton's “The Wednesday Sisters”. Meg is a fellow She Writer and I had read a short synopsis of her book about five female friends who as neighbors meet each other at a local park where they all take their young children and through the years form not only a great friendship but also an amazing writing group. I didn’t realize until I started reading that the book takes place in the San Francisco Bay Area, specifically Palo Alto and the surrounding areas mostly during the 60’s and 70’s. I grew up in Mountain View during the 60’s and 70’s so there was so much in the book that I could relate to, I could see and hear the Bay Area of my childhood and teenaged years.

I love that, being able to picture the scene because I know where it really is. Moreover, I love when a story that takes me away also talks about one of my favorite subjects the craft of writing.

The book was beautiful, funny, sad, joyful and hopeful. I highly recommend it.

Last year I had read a book by Michelle Richmond called “Year of Fog”. I was spellbound when I read it. It is the story of the abduction of a 6-year-old girl in San Francisco while in the care of her father’s girlfriend. Again, many of the places in the book were places I had been or seen. Add to that the story that dealt with a crime, with memory, with relationships during tragedy … definitely right up my alley. It became one of my favorite books.

While in Philadelphia last week, I read another of Richmond’s books “Dream of the Blue Room”. This one was completely different than Year of Fog but I still found myself drawn in by Richmond’s writing, her characters and of course the story of a young girl’s murder and her best friend’s journey to fulfill a promise to the girl’s mother. I don’t want to give too much away but be prepared for a beautiful journey to China and a trip down the Yangtze River if you read this one.

I finished this evening a third of Richmond’s books, this one “No One You Know”. Again set mostly in San Francisco, this one is the story of two sisters, one of which is murdered. No one is ever arrested for her murder but a former English professor of the surviving sister writes a book about the case, a non-fiction true crime book. He names the alleged murderer, at least whom he believes murdered the girl based upon mostly circumstantial evidence. The purported murderer is never arrested or charged but his life is forever ruined after being named a murderer by the author. I was already a Richmond fan but there were things about this one that really hit home for me.

Not only was the story riveting but also this book struck some chords with me with some similarities to some incidents that I write about in my own memoir. Not the same incidents of course, but similarities in what can happen when a person or group of people decide that they know how a crime was committed, or who committed it and then look for evidence to support their beliefs, to the exclusion of any other evidence. Things are reported as fact and in many cases become fact, at least in most people’s minds.

Maybe I am biased, I like Richmond’s writing voice and have enjoyed every one of her books immensely. Nevertheless, anyone who is a fan of crime mysteries and good stories about people and relationships should check out Michelle Richmond’s books.

I sit with my fingers poised over the keyboard, excited to be writing, wanting to capture those flashes of character, dialogue, setting, that have been peppering my brain. As I sit though I hear that voice, the one that is certain I could never tell a story so well, or give voice to a character and richness to a setting like all those authors do.

I guess I’ll never know until I try.

Writers: A Strange Bunch

We writer types are a strange bunch some times. Writing itself is a solitary affair, one we make more so as we find our quiet place and don’t let anyone see what we’ve written; keep it hidden until we think it is perfect. At least perfect enough to be let out into the world.

I am always looking for validation for my writing. It took me such a long time to call myself a writer, even when I was doing almost nothing but writing my book I was embarrassed to take on the title. Now I find that many people no longer ask about the progress of the book. It could be for many reasons … they no longer believe I’m writing one or they become tired of hearing me say “I’m working on revisions”. I used to think the same way, I mean I wondered, how long could a few revisions really take. Believe me it can take a long time.

I find myself uncomfortable with bringing the subject up myself of my writing, fearing that it just seems too silly and self absorbed. Maybe that is why I find such solace in the She Writes community. There are 8,000 other women who know how it feels, who will ask about my writing because they know about the need to feel acknowledged.

I was just in Philadelphia for several days, there to attend my nephew’s wedding, which was lovely. One of the days, I went to the Borders downtown and although I was there to buy books for other people, I found myself drawn almost magnetically to the section of books about writing. There was a woman standing there, certainly a stranger to me. As I walked up and began to scan the titles, she looked at me and said, “Are you a writer?” I immediately answered “Yes.” There was no fear that she would question me, she didn’t know me.

This woman then began to tell me that she had been working on a memoir for quite a long time but it had become too painful, she was stuck and needed to put it down and write something else. This stranger and I had a conversation as if we were longtime friends, having this writing thing in common, both understanding about being stuck, about the painful parts of writing your story.

She finally said she had to go. I told her about She Writes and the support she might find there. She told me how happy she was to have talked to me, wished me luck on my own memoir and she left. I realized in looking back at it that she hardly even looked at the books in the store, she really was there looking for someone to recognize her, to acknowledge what she was doing, to look at her as a writer.

I imagine her now, going home to put the memoir in a drawer for a bit and let it rest and begin to work on some other writing, feeling at least a little bit better having met someone else she could relate to, who gave her “permission” to set the memoir aside and write whatever she felt like writing.

I never got her name but I am grateful to her, she also recognized me as a writer and I didn’t have to ask her to do so. She didn’t look at me with that roll of the eyes when I explained that I was in the revision process, she understood it.

Maybe we will find each other again one day, if not in person than in each other’s writing. I have some revisions to go do.

No Whining

Sometimes I guess I need to be reminded that maybe I have absolutely nothing to whine about in my life. This time the reminder came from one of my favorite blogs that I follow called The Fabulous Geezer Sisters www.geezersisters.com written by Ruth Pennebaker. Ruth, who hails from Texas but is currently living in New York, wrote that while out walking she was trying to see the world "with new eyes". Her desire was brought on by an essay she had read which she linked to in her blog.

The essay is one written by a woman, Marie Pechet, who is 47 years old living in Cambridge Massachussets with her husband and two young sons. Marie was  diagnosed with colorectal cancer when her boys were 1 and 4 years old. She basically put her life on hold for a year while she underwent surgery and chemotherapy. It appeared they had stopped the cancer and she went on with her life. When her boys were the 3 and 7 years old the cancer returned. Her article is about finding moments of joy and to savor her life with her boys. I urge you to read her article at http://commonhealth.wbur.org/guest-contributor/2010/04/a-mother-savors-life-while-battling-cancer/.

If this article doesn't make you stop and admire Ms. Pechet and recognize all those little joys that we ignore and forget, I dont' know what will.

I also urge you to visit Ruth's blog if you can. Although this post was on the somewhat serious side, Ruth has an incredible voice and wit, she will likely make you laugh, at her and yourself. After reading this post, look through Ruth's archives and see if you don't find her absolutely fabulous.

Feels like full time work ....

Wow. I've written before about my desire to get a part time job to supplement my retirement income, to pay for the fun stuff I like to do. You know, like pay for those jaunts to tropical climes for sun,warmth, diving and relaxing.

I guess one should be careful what they wish for. I got the part time job at Home Depot. I had told them when I interviewed that I really wanted between 20 and 30 hours per week. My availability was really wide open though, that's what happens when you have no life.

Home Depot, being a typical corporation with thousands of employees has decided that open availability means as many hours as they can have me work without paying any overtime. Therefore my part time job is feeling an awful lot like a full time job. And not to seem ungrateful but they really don't pay that well.

My first paycheck was for only about 21 hours, some of my training time. I almost laughed when I opened the check. But again, this is extra money. I truly don't know how people are able to live on that kind of wage, I think it would be impossible. I applaud those who find a way to make it work and do so with little or no complaints. So it does seem stupid that I am complaining but I am exhausted.

It isn't like I "do" that much while I'm there, I"m a cashier, but by the end of 9 hours I am completely wiped out.

Having said all that, the writing as been pretty sporadic. A little here, a little there, concentrating mostly on the revisioins, clearly not writing a lot on my blog.

I had the last two days off. One might assume I would knuckle down and write a blog post or two, get lots done on the memoir. Nope, I spent time instead doing some things I just can't seem to find time for these days, including some shopping, errands, and time for me. Also, I got to spend a little bit of time with my daughter Caitlin. She is a photographer. She is working on trying to make photography her career.

I am only her mom, so you won't be surprised that I think her photography is incredible. She has always been good I think, she has an eye for a good photo, for good composition etc. I am excited for her that she is really putting some effort into her photography and maybe working it into a job that will support her.

She is working on building her portfolio. She has taken some photos of friends and family, she started a blog, and she is now advertising that she is going to do some portraits for people for free in order to build her portfolio. She put an ad on craigslist and has already had several responses, it looks like things are definitely headed in the right direction.

I have wanted some pictures of myself for a while, I was using the same old photo for all the social networking sites I am part of and wanted something different. But, I hate having my picture taken. I am very self conscious, usually end up with a forced smile or an odd look on my face. So Kate decided to take some photos of me. I was more than pleasantly surprised, I think they turned out really good. Everything she is shooting these days is in natural light, she just upgraded her camera but  again, I see what she does with just one camera, one lens and natural light and very little or no editing afterwards. I think she has a very bright future ahead of her.

Added bonus, I think I might have a picture that can be my book jacket photo ... now all I have to do is get the book finished and published that can go inside that jacket.

Here are a few examples of the pics Kate took of me. You can see more of her pictures of me and the others she has taken recently by visiting her blog at Snapshots and Photographs
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I'm thinking of making myself a little less "available" for work and getting back to my writing, including this blog. In the meantime, if you are looking for a photographer, I know a good one. And ignoring my writing to spend a little bit of time with my daughter was worth it.