As my friend Jacqui and I wound our way down the steep road of Mount Hotham in Victoria after an already four hour drive, we were excited for the upcoming weekend in Bright. A whole weekend at the first Bright Creative Writing Workshop that was designed to help develop our skills in the field of creative writing. We didn’t know what to expect, but we were anticipating a fun filled, jam-packed creative weekend—and we were not disappointed. It was a weekend spent with Merelyn & David from nationally and internationally awarded songwriters’ country music duo, Carter & Carter, my friend and guest blogger, children's book illustrator Ester de Boer, as well as poet and published author Sylvia Fraser. The weather by Friday night may have been grey and dreary, however it did not dampen the enthusiasm of David and Merelyn, or the participants, of which there were around 20+. By the time we were having supper later that night, we were starting to get to know each other and the enthusiasm was rising in the room. We were all creatives, slightly left of center, and everyone was accepting of everyone else. We also all at different stages of our creative journey. Some were just dipping their toes into the creative arts. Others were already published authors. Everyone else was in between these two extremes. You would think that if you got a bunch of introverts in a room there would be silence. Well that was far from the truth. By the time we were heading off into the deepening night to our respective accommodations, the excitement was high. The incredible vibe of willingness to share and learn from each other spread throughout the entire weekend. On Saturday morning, there was a workshop by David and Merelyn to show us how to overcome writers’ block. They said that their proven technique would help story writers, poets, songwriters and bloggers, (there were two of us). Merelyn announced that by the end of the two hours we, as a group, would have written a song. The look of disbelief on all our faces was priceless. Yet we dived right on in and were presently surprised with a lovely and moving song by the end of two hours. We couldn’t have done it without the talented duo of David and Merelyn however. David grabbed up his guitar and worked out a melody while we continued brainstorming. The brainstorming techniques would most definitely work for all forms of writing, as I often use a similar technique for blog posts and stories. Hmmm. Maybe another blog post on this technique will be coming. Saturday afternoon Ester explained the complexities of children’s book illustration, showed us some of the processes, shared the illustrations of her latest book that she had been working and recently completed for David and Merelyn, To the Moon and Back: Grandma's Rocket Adventure. Then we tried our hand at a story board for a picture book manuscript. After afternoon tea, we broke into groups. Sylvia took a poetry workshop, others had some personal writing time. Jacqui and I snuck off to buy a couple of things for Ester as it was her birthday the following day. Late afternoon found us sharing various stories, songs and poetry, either written that day or what we had brought along to share. I shared Raymund and the Fear Monster. Two of the younger participants blew us away with their talent. Chloe Jade with her gorgeous acoustic guitar and lovely voice sang an original song. You can view the song here: Youtube The writing of fellow blogger and fantasy writer Hannah entertained us with her story of a pigeon that came tapping Morse code at her characters’ window at 4:30 am every night for a week. It kept us all guessing until the very end not knowing in which direction the story would take us next. If you love fantasy, feel free to check out her blog, Tales of Ryllia where Hannah is the Shadow Master. For a younger persons’ perspective of the weekend, Hannah has also blogged about her writers' workshop experience. On Sunday, we explored the business side—how to go about self-publishing or seeking a publishing deal. We learnt about options for recording, illustrating, graphic design, marketing and more, as well as getting out of the right ‘creative’ side of the brain and get into the left-brain way of thinking. We should think of ourselves as a business/brand. This concept was not new to me, though it was to many others. I was surprised about the amount of information that I have already picked up in the past couple of years from various authors, conferences, workshops and blogs regarding traditional publishing, as well as self-publishing, prior to the weekend. By the end of the workshop I was even more assured that I will be self-publishing Raymund and the Fear Monster. I have learned all that I can to get started. I am sure that I will learn a lot more once I do take the plunge. I am now more inspired than ever to follow my dream and get Raymund published. Now to put my left brain into gear and do the business side of getting it published. On Sunday afternoon, a showcase concert starring multi award winning artists Carter & Carter and the workshop participants was held. This was concert was open to the public to give us the opportunity to perform in front of a crowd. There were stories, poetry and songs shared to a large crowd of around 40+ people of all ages. I was able to share a picture book manuscript of mine, Ruby to the Rescue. The audience laughed and giggled in all the right places, and there was applause at the end, so I think that they liked it. So, it was with a weary body that I left Bright on Monday morning for the long journey home, my mind and spirit buoyed up with the experiences and encouragement over the weekend. The best conversations had happened outside the workshops, and I have met and connected with an amazing array of wonderful people. If you are thinking about attending a writers’ conference or a writers’ workshop, I highly suggest it. For me it was not only about what I learnt, but even more importantly, it was about the connections that I have made and the people I met that I would would never had the opportunity to. This ties what David and Merelyn were talking about Saturday morning. My Top 5 First Draft Tips: by Wendy Orr. For further information about the weekend: Bright Creative Writing Workshop For further information about the main speakers: David and Merelyn Carter from Carter & Carter Ester de Boer on her website at Ester de Boer Illustration Sylvia Fraser on her website at Life Works 4 You Some group members: A Letter from a Comrade. A moving letter that Hannah read out at the concert. It brought many to tears. If you want to find out more information about Chloe Jade, and listen to her songs, you can find her on Facebook and Youtube. Like this? Please share with your friends.
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Writing books is not an easy task. Ask any author who is single and no children, or has the space to just write for hours on end without interruption, it is a tough slog. What happens if you throw work and family into the mix, and then add being a single parent. How would you get any writing done? Recently I put the question to a few authors about balancing writing and family life. I received an insightful, real, and honest look into balancing writing and family life as a single parent from Robert Vescio. So who is Robert Vescio? Robert started writing children’s stories about eight years ago but he says that he has always enjoyed writing, even way back in high school. After leaving school he worked in the publishing industry for over 12 years and for eight of those years he was a Photo Editor working on a number of photographic Magazines. However, it wasn’t until he left fulltime work in 2007, to become a stay-at-home dad, that he began to take writing more seriously. Now he had a great excuse to spend hours in the children’s section of bookstores. As he loved reading books, it made it easy to dive into the world of picture book writing. Robert also says that having his own children helped as well. All he had to do ‘was to observe them and the ideas started rolling in.’ So how does Robert get any writing done? Does he have a routine? No. Robert does not have a writing routine per se. Rather, he writes either very late at night or early in the morning when the children are asleep. “It’s tranquil and I’m left to my own devices with no disruptions. Writing demands thinking time, planning, editing and rewriting.” Every day, Robert has to factor in work, distractions and chores. It is a real juggling act. This is especially evident when his children were younger and he was trying to keep on track with a writing project, and they were wanting his attention all the time. Now that they are older, it is getting easier. These days while Robert’s children work independently on homework and assignments, he fits in writing time while they are occupied with their schoolwork. In a recent post on Facebook, one emerging author said that she is often made to feel guilty about taking the time to write while her son is playing. She was made to feel like he was missing out on time with her, even though he was quite happy playing by himself. I am sure many can identify, no matter what you enjoy doing, that, as a parent, when you are doing something that makes you feel fulfilled, you are happier as a person. And that has a knock on effect to the people around you. Robert used to feel guilty about his writing and the time it took away from his children. Now listen to this…His children NEVER make him feel guilty. If he has been spending a lot of time writing, Robert reviews his schedule and commits to spending more time with his children later. He is now feeling pride at what his hard work is achieving. Robert says that he is able to show his children, ‘that if you work really hard at something, not only will you become good at it but look what you can achieve. I’m living proof. They’ve seen that it’s possible, and so a great lesson has been learned.’ Roberts final thoughts on balancing writing and family life: There has to be a balance between writing and family. My children always come first but it’s okay for me to enjoy writing. The more I enjoy writing, the more my passion will ooze and stand out. And the more my passion stands out, the more my children will learn and grow with me. If you love writing, you’ll find a way to balance the two. About Robert: Robert Vescio is a published children’s author. His picture books include: Barnaby and the Lost Treasure of Bunnyville (Big Sky Publishing), Marlo Can Fly (Wombat Books) listed on the NSW Premier’s Reading Challenge for 2015, No Matter Who We’re With (IP Kidz). He has more picture books due out in 2016 and 2017. Many of Robert’s short stories have been published in anthologies such as Packed Lunch, Short and Twisted, Charms Vol 1 and The School Magazine NSW. He has also won awards for his children’s writing. Robert enjoys visiting schools. His aim is to enthuse and inspire children to read and write and leave them bursting with imaginative ideas. For more information, visit: Robert on his website: www.robertvescio.com or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/RobertVescioAuthor I have fabulous news. Robert has just had a new book released this month. Jack and Mia (Wombat Books). How fantastic is that? Jack and Mia are available to pre-order and purchase now through all good bookstores and Wombat Books. Read the full interview with Robert Vescio over on Just Write For Kids where I also blog. Like this? Please share with your friends.
by Megan Higginson Writing a story, I have found, can be exhilarating. Creating new characters, new worlds even, and sending them out on adventures is a fascinating process. But then there are times where it can come all unstuck. A scene is bogged down and you don’t know why; your male hero sounds very effeminate; your female heroine is acting out of character; or you just can't seem to move the scene forward. How can you get yourself out of the mess you find yourself in? At a recent writer’s group, we tried out one way—acting out the scene. According to Shelly from Keystrokes and Close Doors in her blog Writing Tips- Acting Out Your Scene, “If you are having writers block in a scene, acting it out is a useful tool to get passed it. When you act out the dialogue and portray a character it can fuel the action within the scene and help you break passed your creative wall. This is because when you get really into it you may discover other things you character might say that propel the story along or even the responses of other characters to what you are doing.” "When you act out the dialogue and portray a character it can fuel the action within the scene and help you break past your creative wall." This especially helpful—and lots of fun I might add—when your characters are not humans. Ester had a scene in her current W.I.P. (Work in Progress) Gnerk. To do this properly Ester:
In the end it was only minor things. But they were so important to the text and the understanding of what was happening. It was also important to increase the tension. So acting it out and discussing it, we found small ways to achieve that goal. An addition of a movement of a person here, slowing the pace here, changing what another character does in another spot, changing what someone says, all made an impact on the scene overall. I have found myself doing this as I work on my own mss. So whether it is a picture book or a novel, it is so helpful to at the very least, read your work out loud. It is even better to act it out. You may find in the process the very action/dialogue/description that your scene was lacking, and boost its impact on your story. If I ever write a fantasy novel, I think I'll join the local L.A.R.P. (Live Action Role Playing) society. Now that would be fun. Good luck, and happy writing. Like this? Please share with your friends.
by Guest Blogger, Ester de Boer I have, for a while, wanted to do an exercise in taking a very plain, unadorned text and bringing it to life. All of us share a Christian faith in common, so the Bible was an ideal choice of text, as we were familiar with the stories and their contexts. As a source of inspiration (and yes, it has been stolen from and referenced time and time again for plots), it contains, within its 66 books stories of what it was like to live in the ancient world—brutal, tragic, sometimes touching but very human. It’s written, however, in a very matter-of-fact manner, without much adornment. “he went… she said… then they…” You have to read between the lines when it comes to expression and emotional response. We each chose a different story (although it would, in retrospect, have been interesting to see three versions of the one passage). I chose Daniel, when he is called before the Babylonian King Belshazzar (isn’t that the best name!!!- my next cat, perhaps…) to interpret the “writing on the wall” (and yes, that’s where the phrase comes from). I wanted to put myself in poor Daniel’s shoes. Ancient kings had power over life and death—often at whim—and it wasn’t uncommon to kill the messenger of bad news. He, of course, doesn’t know that this is what he has to do at this stage—he just knows that being summoned by the king suddenly can’t be good. The book of Daniel chapter 5. The Writing on the Wall by Ester de Boer The walk from the upper servant’s quarters to the king, on summons, in the darkest hours of the morning was the longest journey Daniel had ever made. He had been awoken by a militant banging on the door, and before he’d had time to respond, two palace guards bearing torches had pushed in and were shaking him violently. “Up! Get dressed! You are required by the king!” These types of summons never ended well. Daniel’s sleep-addled mind stumbled over dread-filled thoughts as his fingers fumbled clumsily with his robe. One of the guards swore, and roughly took the edge of the garment, tossing it around Daniel’s shoulders in haste. “We don’t have time, man! The king is frantic! Come now!” He staggered out of his bedroom and followed the huge, mail-clad pairs of shoulders through the labyrinth of dark stone hallways, breaking into a trot to keep up. The stone transformed to marble. Ornate silver lanterns illuminated intricate mosaics of lapis lazuli, beryl, turquoise… panoramic artworks that rhapsodised the might of the king and the glory of his gods. Daniel didn’t pause to admire them—his usually ordered mind was thrown into chaos, frantically running over the last few weeks—his every action and word. Had he made a mistake in accounts? That senior satrap he’d had a disagreement with - had he found ammunition to get rid of him? His mouth filled with acid, and he was overwhelmed with a cold sense of unreality. This was it. “Dear God have mercy on me… forgive me any sin, may I not deny you even in death… Mighty God, give me… help. Please help… ” The guards came to an abrupt halt at the large ornate doors to the dining hall. They too looked nervous by now. They paused, exchanged a quick look and glanced at Daniel in something like pity, before hardening their features into an emotionless mask, and straightening their stance to a uniform formality. They pushed open the massive, wooden doors and stood like statues at each side “Your majesty—this is Daniel” The scene that met him was one of chaos. Ladies of the court were huddled weeping… all the important people had been gathered in the one place—the administrators, the wise men, the sorcerers—their faces like wax, eyes like startled beasts. Standing in the centre of the room was the king—his body visibly shook, but not, as Daniel had anticipated, with rage. Of all the people gathered in that hall, his was the face that held the greatest expression of terror. He turned and stared at Daniel with the expression of a doomed man, waiting to hear his final judgement. Megan chose Gideon, hiding in the winepress from murderous Midianite raiding parties.The book of Judges chapter 6: The Mighty Warrior? by Megan Higginson “Why God? Why? Why has this happened to us?” Sucking in his breath, Gideon quickly peaked over the edge of the wine-press, afraid that someone may have overheard him. Seeing no-one around, he turned back to threshing the wheat. Sighing, his thoughts turned to the enjoyable times of the past when the men of the family and servants would gather on the threshing floor. At least when breezes flowed through they were able to cool off a little. Though the wine-press was shaded by the broad branches of the huge oak tree owned by his father, it was still hot and thirsty work...and lonely. Sweat from heat and fear mingled together and dripped off the end of his nose. Sweat ran down his back and soaked his garments. Being the youngest, it was his job to thresh the wheat while his brothers guarded their flocks. He paused in his work to wipe his face. “Ahh! I feel like a scared rat, hiding away from the Midianites.” Gideon’s’ stomach clenched and his hands trembled as he thought of these evaders of their land that came like a swarm of locusts, driving everything before them; killing the thousands that got in their way, and slaughtering their flocks. They settled like a blanket of locusts over the land—smothering it, and leaving a desolate wasteland— a dust bowl--in their wake. He was thankful that they hadn’t reached his town of Ophrah—yet. Gideon adjusted his robes that were now miles too big for him. He looked up towards the heavens. “I do know why this has happened God,” he murmured to himself. “Your prophet said that it was because we have turned away from you and have worshiped other gods.” His heart felt sick at the thought of his father’s own alter to the pagan god Baal, as well as the Asteroth pole that stood beside it. Gideon peaked again over the side of the wine-press. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. A man was casually sitting under the tree, looking like he’d been there for ages. Before he could call out, the man was standing beside him, looking down at him hiding from the enemy. Gideon’s mind was in a whirl. Who was this man? How could he move so fast? He must be an angel of the Lord. Before Gideon could utter a single word, the angel spoke. “The Lord is with you mighty warrior.” Jacqui (being the romantic of the group) is always interested in the relationships between the characters. She created a backstory—what was life like for Cain after his exile? — from the point of view of Cain’s wife—in love with a cursed man. From the book of Genesis chapter 4 and 5. The Mark of Cain by Jacqui Johnson Set scene – a beautiful young woman sits by a dressing table in grand house in the centre of the city. Thin purple died calico curtains swing in slight breeze as it whips around the lush open courtyard adjoining the main bed chamber. Tansy watched little Enoch running in the courtyard by the small pool trying to catch the little sparrows, which hopped and skipped just out of grasp of the chubby little fingers which trailed their movements. His foot caught on a tuft of grass. Falling, he let out a squeal, before a high pitched wail echoed around the space. This sound continued from the top of his lungs, as Enoch rolled onto his back knowing help would be forthcoming, as the sound of a number of sandaled feet pattered along the stone flooring. “I will get him Misses, you just sit,” the maidservant called, as she rushed past Tansy who was in mid motion of pushing off the dressing table. All too often now Tansy needed the weight of this ornate table as an anchor for her heavily pregnant body. The midwife has said it could be any day now. She was hoping it would be a girl, despite her husband’s insistence they build the tribe with more males. The door opening forcibly behind, caused Tansy to whip her head around as she stood. Knowing only one person opened doors in this house in such a way, she turned to watch Cain take off his headpiece, having returned home from the inspections. He unwound the scarf from his neck which wound its way up the left side of his face before creating a turban. Many men who worked the fields wore scarves like this, although being the role he had and his importance within the community, Cain didn’t need to. He had a number of different ones he wore doing a variety of tasks. Many amongst the prominent families assumed it was to help him seem more connectable to his army and servants. Yet as the last remnants of the cloth were removed and tossed on the dressing chair, Tansy couldn’t deny the truth, it hid his mark. The cursed mark of death he had borne since the first moment she had met him. Thanks Ester. This was a fun activity that we all thoroughly enjoyed. It was really interesting finding a newness in stories that were so familiar. Many people think that the Bible is just a ‘dusty old book.’ But, as Ester pointed out, the Bible is ‘66 books stories of what it was like to live in the ancient world- brutal, tragic, sometimes touching but very human. It’s written, however, in a very matter-of-face manner, without much adornment.’ It is also filled with a huge plethora of ‘seeds’ for story ideas, and interesting characters.
So at when you are stuck wondering what to do at your next writer’s group, or you are suffering writers’ block, dust off a Bible and see if you can breathe new life into an old story. Imagine that writing picture books was super easy. The story, the characters, the setting -- everything -- would come easily and you would end up in deep water, going with the flow. In the Flow I love writing. There are days that I can just sit down, either at the computer or with a notebook and I am in the flow. It’s all happening. And all I have to do is to follow that flow. However, I am finding that the life of a picture book author isn’t always smooth sailing. In fact, this week alone I have read a least two blog posts, a few Facebook posts and a couple of comments that show that no writer's journey is smooth. In fact often, the stream dries up—or at least hit some rapids. Take for example one of my latest W.I.P. (Work In Progress). Two dogs. One fox. One deep muddy hole. What could go wrong? This is the original outline of one of my children’s picture books that I am working on. I start with the bare bones of the story. Then I have to flesh it out. Of course, it is a picture book and every word has to earn its place, as well as leave space for the illustrations to tell the story. It’s a balancing act. Writing picture books is a balancing act A Shallow Stream Lately I’ve been re-working aforementioned dog story. It is one that I, late last year, got written in a week—rather than taking weeks to write—and have barely felt the need to tweak it. It was described by one publisher as 'lovely writing'. So I thought to myself, well, I don’t need to touch it much. I made the necessary suggested tweaks. Done! Ready to send out into the world again. Oh how wrong I was. An author who mentors writers, and whose opinion I respect and value, had a look at it. She could see that my story had the potential to be so much more than it was. In other words it was a shallow stream. Pretty but it can be better—deeper. Was I willing to spend the necessary time to draw the real story out? You bet I was! I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to get started. So I get out my dog story after this author has looked at it and given her feedback. I spent all morning looking at each verb. Is it active or passive? Spent ages scouring through my Active Verbs list to find the right one to describe what I want. Could I put some rhyme in? Or not? Oh I can…just here and here. Spend another hour finding the right phrase to describe what is happening, making sure that it rhymes correctly. Should I change the names? What names? Think of the dogs and what they are each like. What are their personalities like and their behaviour? Spend an hour making up a list of names before choosing one each. Will it make much difference? Oh! It does! How cool is that? It totally changes how people would perceive each dog, even before reading the story. Okay. I am in the flow and now that the characters are deeper, the story too, has more depth—I’m heading into deeper water. Lovely. Changing names does make a difference. The Ripple Effect
Oh no…the ripple effect. I made a few changes and now the story has changed and has a different rhythm. Is it good? Spend next half an hour reading it out loud. Then spend another hour deleting twenty words and adding ten different ones. Does any of this sound familiar? Drifting So, I’m still in the flow. Drifting now and letting the story sink in a bit before moving on again, before I am ready to have another look at it. The journey is not yet over. My two dogs are not ready to meet the world…yet. I love this process though, and I am looking forward to seeing where the story will go to from here. Very soon we will reach deep, tranquil water, and my story will be ready to be released into the world. Post by Guest Blogger, Jacqui Johnson Getting together today was so exciting! Still inspired by the timely words Megan shared on her last post, we sat down to focus on applying ‘show don’t tell’ to add emotional connectivity in our writing. According to Melissa Donovan in her blog post, 'Emotionally Charged Creative Writing Prompts, ‘To engage a reader, we have to create scenes that are so vivid they seem real, even if they are not. Through scenes, imagery, and dialogue, writers can actively engage readers with what’s happening on the page.’
Please check out her blog post for great examples on how to apply these. Engaging readers on an emotional level helps author’s to not only weave an interesting tale, but also to do justice to the characters, telling their story and how they feel as it unfolds. We used a couple of Melissa creative writing prompts, keeping in mind other areas we have focused on at previous writer’s group meetings such as; dialogue, character descriptions, similes and metaphors. Below are the prompts we chose to use, and both Megan and my own application of these prompts. PROMPT 1: A family of five is driving across the desert on the way for a holiday in Perth. They get lost, and then the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. The mobile phone is dead and the sun is setting. The kids are hot, tired and hungry. Mum is scared and frazzled. Dad, a mid-level sales manager with no survival skills is frustrated and angry. An animal howls in the distance. Please note: I changed the setting to be in Australia, as well as the amount of children. Eh! What can I say? It’s a prompt, not a rule. Going Nowhere by Megan Higginson The setting sun glared like an angry beast in through the dusty windscreen. Craig squinted his eyes, trying to find the road ahead. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he wiped it away with an already soaked towel. The smell in the car was not helped by the lowering of the windows, the air-conditioner having failed in the past hour. Perth! Whose crazy, convoluted idea was it to drive to Perth? Then he remembered. It was his. “It will be fun,” he said. “Mark Jones from accounting, drives there every year to visit family. Surely me, a sales manager, should be able to do it.” The conversation with his wife whirled around Craig’s head. A loud gurgling came from Justin’s stomach. “Mummy! Me hungry,” Justin whined as he squirmed in his booster seat. “Shut up, stupid head,” Carissa said to her younger brother. “You ate the last of it an hour ago. Besides, we are all hungry.” “You stupid head! Me not stupid head!” Justin stuck his tongue out at Carissa. Carissa rolled her eyes at her brother and sank into a sticky smelly heap on the back seat. Craig glanced over at Marleen. She sat staring at the map, her normally neat hair now a frizzy mess. She looked like a porcelain doll. “Well!” he shot at her. “Where are we?” Marleen slowly turned her head and their eyes met. He didn’t like what he saw in them. “I. Don’t. Know.” Each word was punctuated by a full stop. Time slowed. The three kids held their breaths. They knew what was coming. Craig’s eyes bulged. His face went red. “We’re what? Lost! How could you get us lost?” As the words left his mouth a strange thumping noise came deep from within the bowels of the engine. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. And then a loud bang that made them all jump. Deep grey smoke like the smoke from a chimney stack, billowed from under the bonnet as the car ground to a halt. Craig slammed his fist into the steering wheel, popped the release lever on the bonnet, opened the door, and stomped around to the front of the car. “Try the blasted phone again!” Craig yelled from the front. “Probably no service out here anyway,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s dead, Dad. The battery died an hour ago.” George was sixteen and didn’t care what his father thought or did. “Ahhh! How can this day get any worse?” Craig shouted to the sky. “Nobody listens anyway. Why do I even bother?” he said under his breath. The rest of the family slowly climbed out of the car. “Mum, I feel dizzy…” Katrin’s voice faded as she slumped to the ground. Damn. That’s all we need. Three kids and two adults, stranded in the middle of nowhere. The sun chose that moment to sink into the horizon, plunging everything into the inky blackness of night. For a moment there was silence, and then, a dingo’s howl broke through the night. PROMPT 2: 'The only thing Daniel ever wanted to be was a musician. He loved playing the piano more than anything in the world. But after his mum and brother died in a car accident, Daniel’s dad insisted he become active in sport and drop music. And being active wasn’t enough. He had to be the captain of the team or suffer through endless jibes and insults that his father uttered through a beer-induced haze. Then on his eighteenth birthday, a delivery man brings him a piano and tells the boy it is from his father.' Unexpected by Jacqui Johnson The door slamming shut and the sound of the delivery truck noisily pulling away from the curb snapped Daniel out of the waking coma of shock he was transfixed by. Shutting the front door, he resting his forehead against the wood for a moment. Sucking in a breath, he pushed off from the door, rubbing his head slightly and he walked down the passageway, ever closer to the main living room. Entering the cramped space, he stared at the piano sticking out like a punk rocker at a classical recital. Amidst the football memorabilia, left over beer cans and fast food wrappers which clung together as piles of clutter forming the landscape of the floor, this polished piece of refined furniture was jarring, almost comical in it context. Hesitantly walking over, Daniel ran his fingers along the smooth top of the lid which concealed the ivory beneath. The smell of wood and varnish brought back memories of another life, another time; a time he’d been whole and happy. His eyes prickled with tears. He wiped them away roughly with the back of his hand, not wanting to give ammunition for his father to use later. It was so predictable yet still utterly deflating every time his dad went on the tirade about what things young men should be interested in and what things were just wrong. ‘You’re the captain of the footy team, not some Nancy-boy performer’. Daniel recalled the drunken rant from many months earlier which had been preceded by a discussion of application forms and possible college choices for the coming year. ‘Oh crap, what is Dad going to say?!’ Daniel felt his heart beat accelerate as adrenaline began to surge through is blood stream. ‘How the hell am I going to explain this?!’ The turning of a key in a lock indicating that it wasn’t going to take long to figure that one out. His father’s heavy work boots clomped down the hallway, like the sound of impending doom. The call of a casual greeting was muffled by the blood pulsing through Daniel’s ears. His eyes fixed to the living room opening. Watching his father’s eyes widen as he took in the scene, Daniel felt his stomach clench. A suffocating weight like the 200 pound defender from last week game, pushed down on his chest. ‘I didn’t do it! The delivery guy must have made a mistake!’ Daniels mind shouted, but when he opened his mouth to talk to try to explain it was dry and no sound came out. His tough stuck limply to the bottom of his jaw. He opened and closed his lips mutely. A smile stretched across his father’s wide eyed expression, softening his features. “So, it finally arrived!” A final thought:
On reflection, looking back over my journey having been involved in a local writer’s group, I can see such a tremendous value in getting together with other writer’s - not only as a creative outlet but also as a means of discussing our pieces. We do some research to work on areas of need from within the group, sharing, prompting and refining our craft. Further information can be found in the following articles: Melissa Donovan’s ‘Emotion Charged Creative Writing Prompts’ Melissa Donovan’s ‘Writing Tips: Show, Don’t Tell’ Robb Grindstaff’s ‘Bringing your fiction to life with emotion’ Happy writing! Giving up The day has come when I felt like giving up on my writing. When I thought, will my writing ever, ever, be good enough to be accepted by a traditional publisher? What’s the point of the hard work I'm putting in? I felt like a hollow tree. Burnt out. Nothing left. I think that I may have a case of the S.A.D’s. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). The weather is affecting my mood. It’s grey and gloomy and freezing cold. (To top it off, my body is complaining and my legs don’t want to work properly. I feel like I'm trying to move blocks of concrete with each step. I’m sore and achy. Jolly Fibromyalgia!) The Little Voice Ummm. When did this mopey feeling start? Last week it just started creeping up on me. A little voice whispering softly in my ear, “You have worked and worked and you have nothing to show. Not even a nibble.” To that voice I said, “Well the publisher that assessed two of my stories at the Meet the Publishers Conference likes my writing. She says it’s lovely. My stories were not suitable for their imprint. (She didn’t say that to me. I just assumed so.) And she asked for two of my other manuscripts to look at. And all the kids at the school liked all my stories. They are the ones that count.” Then the little voice says, “So what! They are not the ones publishing it. So they don’t matter.” To The Voice I agreed…briefly. Until I reminded myself of the reason why I write. It is for the kids. Check out why I write here. Last week I celebrated my 42nd birthday. My daughter gave me three picture books (pictured above). One funny, one scary, and one where the stories and illustrations made me all teary, they were so beautiful. The Doubt Then the doubt started to set in. The little voice was back. “See. Look at these stories. You’ll never write like that.” I agreed. It’s not my style, though I would love to evoke some emotion with my stories. So I didn’t bother working on my novel, nor my blog. I felt like I just wanted to fade out of existence. In six months time, no one would remember me. Out loud, I used my birthday week as an excuse to take the week off. Ahhh! I felt like I was getting sucked into the “Vortex of Doom.” I had decided this year to enter some of my stories into big competitions that offered feedback , even if you didn’t place. I did this so that I can improve my storytelling and make my stories as good as they can be. On Monday morning I got my results back for one of my stories from one of the competitions that I had entered. 68/100! I saw mostly 3’s. Average. The Voice was back. “See! You’ll never stand up out of the slush pile. You’ll never be good enough.” Fighting Back But, as I write this, I have decided to fight back. I need to focus on every tiny scrap of positive feedback and cultivate an attitude of gratitude. I went back to the feedback sheet and counted up my scores. The scoring was as follows: 1. Needs work; 2; 3. Average; 4; 5. Above average. I got: nine 3’s, nine 4’s and one 5. Looking at it like that, I felt a lot better. And, they told me what I needed to work on. I realised I should not focus so much on the negative. Don’t get me wrong. Even the negative feedback can be helpful. It can help show where I need to improve. So this is what I am now reminding myself of. My writing is getting better and better all the time. I have written a number of stories. Some good. Some not so good. But each one helps me get to the next stage in my writing. No writing is wasted, not even writing this blog post. Here is some feedback that I received from competitions and publishers that I need to keep in mind:
Giving myself space and focusing on the good stuff I’ve given myself some space just to be. I read some great books and enjoyed my birthday week. I hung out with family and friends. I am choosing to focus on the good stuff. And getting stuck back into what I love doing - writing fun, quirky kids tales, and blogging. I also re-started my exercise program which I cut out about three weeks ago. I used all sorts of excuses. It's too cold. My muscles and tendons will probably tear again. (Don't laugh. It happens semi-regularly, especially in the cold.) Isn't it curious how I started feeling lousy shortly after I stopped exercising? Tips for moving forward:
An interesting fact An interesting fact that happens with some burnt out trees – some continue to grow and shoot out new leaves. And that’s what I’m going to do. Shoot out something new. A new story. A new idea. A new blog post. Hmmm. I may even contemplate moving to a warmer, sunnier climate. In the meantime, I will look forward to sunnier, warmer weather that will be coming in the next few weeks. Yay! Bring it on! Have a good day. Kirsten over at She’s Novel, has written a great blog post, 'Writing when depressed.' She describes her battle with depression, and what she does to move through to the other side of her lows. News update: I found out that, in the competition that I mentioned, I was among the highest scoring. It just goes to show, it is all about perception. Often, the hardest time is just before a break through. This has reminded me of an analogy that I once heard. Life goals can be bit like pumping the old water pumps. You would pump and pump and pump. And just as you think that it getting too hard, and you couldn't possibly pump any more - the water would come gushing out. Never give up! You are plunging into a pit of despair. You are sick, your brain is in a fog. Thoughts seem to flick like wraiths, just out of reach. You can’t think but you have writing deadlines: a blog post; a story for a competition; a manuscript that you have ideas for and you want to write but you just want to crawl back to bed, curl up and sleep until you are well. Oh am I hearing you! The last few weeks have been one thing after another. Which, as my daughter and close friends pointed out to me, is not unusual. If there is a strange virus to get; weird allergic reactions to odd things (i.e. anaphylactic to Strepsils); infections that don’t respond to antibiotics; then I will get it/have it. Chuck into the mix living with Fibromyalgia, commonly known as a muscle disorder, but it can affect every part of your body and nearly every system (which is probably why the above things happen to me), then I really know how you are feeling. Winter is never a good season for me. My legs feel like lead and it is exhausting having to drag them around. And my muscles and tendons tear just because they can. And I work part time as well. And over the last two weeks I’ve had double ear infections. One ear has cleared up the other has not. Then I blacked out Friday night and I am going through tests to find out why. So how do I manage to get a blog post up nearly every week? How do I continue to write stories and enter them into competitions and submit to publishers? How am I able to be active on social media? How do I manage one critique a week for my online critique group? And how do I all these things, have a have friends visit, go to my monthly writer’s group, enjoy my life, as well as live with Fibro? (Notice I said ‘live with’ and not ‘suffer from’) Here is my secret. Are you ready? I just do it! Ahhh! I hear you screaming at me! Noooo! It can’t be that simple. Well...it isn’t. I do have strategies in place to help me through.
Strategies that work:
Underpinning all this is the answers to some questions that I asked myself at the beginning of my writing journey – when I decided two years ago to start writing seriously. So I put them to you. Serious questions to ask yourself:
It was only after I had taken the time to ask myself these soul-searching questions, come up with the answers, and write them down, as well as being able to articulate it concisely in a few short sentences, that I began to be able to write whenever. Yes there are times that I feel so sick that I don’t want to move. I rest when I need to. I take time out when I need to. How I manage my illness alongside my writing is the main hurdle that I have had to overcome. I don’t use excuses. I do what I do because I love it and my motivation comes from deep within me. Nothing is going to hold me back from doing what I am doing. Have a quick look around my website. It won’t take you long to find out what keeps me motivated on my brain fog and unwell days. But…yes, there is a but…what works for me may not work for you. You just have to try different strategies starting somewhere. Anywhere is better than no-where. So I hope that this post has helped in some way so that the next time you feel unwell or your brain is in a fog, you'll know what to do. Happy writing! What works for you? Similes and Metaphors Using Similes and Metaphors in your writing is like using seasoning in cooking. It flavours it. Your writing will come alive and jump off the page. See what I did there? Fun isn’t it? 'Simile: the comparison of two unlike things using the word ‘like’ or ‘as’. ‘The biscuit tasted like a coat button.’ ‘It’s as black as troll poo in here.’ Both examples from Jen Storer's own work. Use sparingly. Contrary to what Miss Sternberger might have said, creative writing does not revolve around similes and metaphors. Metaphor: a figure of speech wherein one thing is not only compared to another, it is said to be that other. Macbeth says that life is a pathetic actor, not that it is like a pathetic actor. Thus he is speaking metaphorically: ‘Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’' From Jen Storer's blog, 10 Literary Devices. Or How to Zhoosh Up Your Creative Writing Writer's Group At this month’s writer’s group I decided to look this use of metaphors and similes in writing. I love reading, and reading widely. The following are three examples from three different books by three authors whose books that I have read recently. I found that they use simile and metaphors in their writing that enriches the reading experience. ‘He made his way down broken storm-littered roads out to La Incoerenza, the Bliss Estate. Outside the storm had been even wilder. Lightening bolts like immense crooked pillars joined La Incoerenza to the skies, and order, which Henry James warned was only a man’s dream of the universe, disintegrated beneath the power of chaos, which was nature’s law. Above the gates of the estate a live wire swung dangerously, with death at its tip. When it touched the gates blue lightning crackled along the bars. The old house stood firm but the river had burst its banks and risen up like a giant lamprey all mud and teeth and swallowed the grounds in a single gulp.’ Page 23 Two Years Eight Months & Twenty Eight Nights by Salman Rushdie. ‘After that they saw only forest for several hours, but come evening they arrived at a country cottage abandoned by its owners. Two muscular trees had demolished the place, although they grew on either side of the building. Where their boughs had met they had done so like the punches of boxers, and remained outstretched in jabs and hooks. The cottage’s centremost rooms had been bludgeoned the hardest, but there was shelter to be had in half a sitting room, secure on the leftmost side of the house.’ Page 77 The Trees by Ali Shaw ‘It became clear to Albie that he had done very little with his life, and seeing it paraded before him convinced him that he’d had enough. So right there and then, Albie made another decision. He decided to leave. Quietly he rose, lightly as an angel. The water slipped by him like a satin cloak and he emerged through the surface with more grace and confidence than he had experienced in his life.’ Page 8 Tensy Farlow and the Home of Mislaid Children by Jen Storer These are gorgeous descriptions that paint amazing pictures in your mind as you read. These authors seemed to sprinkle similes and metaphors (although with Salman it is liberally sprinkled), as well as using other ways of describing people, places, objects and situations. A word of caution
There was one book I read that read that I end up putting down as there was just too many similes and metaphors in the text. At one point the author used three of these devices to describe one thing. I got bogged down in trying to decipher what the author had meant. In the end I lost the thread of the story and had no idea what was happening. The Reality The reality is that we all use similes and metaphors on a daily basis, often without even thinking about it. This can be a trap for writers. Many of these similes and metaphors are so well known that we instinctively reach for them as we write. Instead, we should mix things up and breathe some freshness into our writing or else our writing will come off as trite. Writer’s Group Activity: Take a well known metaphor and re-write it within a context. (Same meaning but fresher) A heart of stone (A person is said to have a heart of stone when they cannot show sympathy or they are very cold towards you) "Watching Peter asses the girls' injury, he peered at her with a icy clinical glance. The glacier which formed his fractal heart showed no signs of shifting or melting." Jacqui. Elephant in the room (An obvious problem or difficult situation that people do not want to talk about) "It sat between them like the rotten core of an apple. Each taking tentative bites around the edges, avoiding the centre." Ester Fear is a beast that feeds on attention. (Often times fear is just the warning but it can quickly turn into a beast) “Her fear intensified as their criticisms stuck fast as surely as needles to a magnet.” Anita As I was have an off day due to two ear infections I could not think of a way to rewrite A stitch in time saves nine. (Get things done on time a prevent yourself from having more work later). So I wrote how I was feeling instead. "My mind is a fog bank and the words flick out of reach like shadows." So this was a lightening quick run down of the use of similes and metaphors to jazz up your writing. I love to share as I learn, so if you have anything to add, please feel free to share in the comments. To sum up: 1. Use metaphors and similes sparingly. 2. Use metaphors that will extend the description of what the story is about. 3. Metaphors are often better to use and gives a more powerful description than a simile. Jen Storer has written a great blog post over on her Girl and Duck website. It is titled 10 Literary Devices. Or Ways to Zhoosh Up Your Creative Writing. I've just started on my first novel, so this will certainly come in handy to really enrich my writing. Check it out...and happy writing. Thank God May is almost over!!! What a mad ride in the centre of a spin dryer of a month! There's a stereotype that says that, in order to create, every writer (or artist) needs that haven from the rush and pressure of life- a little cave of solitude. I, personally, thrive on the squash and energy of a crowd. This month, however, has been all squash, rush and chaos- and- shizmik! I am all out of energy! So when Saturday arrived, I just wanted to have a really chilled out writing session with my friends. Please please please... let's keep this cheerily shallow and silly, huh? Cos I'm really not up to taking anything serious right now! It could be the after affect of dancing to the Wiggles all week in the Preppy room (while all the kids stood, staring at me as if to say “wow... poor Miss B has finally lost it!”) but I had the sparky little notion that we could have a go at song writing. I arranged two piles of papers- one with the names of songs, the other with well known fairy tales. We chose from both piles, and then set about rewriting the stories to the melodies of the songs. Megan composed the story of the Three Little Pigs to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle; Jacqui sang a dramatic glam-rock Red Riding Hood to Bohemian Rhapsody “It's the WOLF!... wolf wolf wolf wolf … mamamia let me go!” (can't quite remember how it went now, but you get the gist!); and Verity sang a great “We Will Rock You, Cindy!” (Cinderella). I drew out that sweet, timeless classic, Bluebeard, and fit it to the tune of The Lonely Goat-herd (as in “High on the hills was a lonely goat-herd... yodeleyi yodeleyi yodeleyi-hoo!”) from The Sound of Music. So here goes – feel free to sing along: Once far away was a pretty girl who hadn't had a date for a year or two her folks set her up with a weird divorcee saying “he's a freak, but hell- he's well to do!” He showed her her room at the top of the tower -designer clothes and diamonds with a hundred shoes... Then turned to her sternly, his face a-glower “Here's the deal – I tell you what to do! “Under the castle's my secret man cave where I keep my secrets.” (She replied “Oh, my!”) “If you go in there, you'll cause me great rage. If you disobey me you will die!” But she bored of her life as a housewife Yearned for adventure – to be free Crept down into her husband's man-cave And to her horror she did see... Hanging on a meat-hook all skinned and gutted were the butchered bodies of his former wives. She knew from village gossip the divorces were messy But for their disobedience they'd lost their lives! She thought, “this guy's whacked! Better put the key back!” But the key was covered with the victims' blood. Though she doused it in bottles of stain remover, the evidence remained- it wouldn't budge. This lovely tale has cradled many a shivering child to sleep over the centuries. (Strange how Disney hasn't made an animated film yet...) Thanks Ester, for hosting our writer's group. It was a fun challenge, that made us think of how we could fit the story into the melody of the song. It had us in fits of laughter, as well as sitting in amazement (well me anyway), hearing what everyone came up with. So give this activity a go at your next writer's group, or when you just need to wind down and have some fun. Let me know what you come up with. |
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