Radical Writing Advice: Who Are You?

There is much advice floating about for writers. So many conflicting viewpoints about the best way to publish, to write, to edit, to create your platform. To do just about anything related to authors and their work.

I'm not calling anyone out or setting up a gripe session about what is right or wrong. No, that's not what I do. Or try not to do.

I know there are confident people in all professions who have no doubts about who they are and what they want to be. Be now or when they grow up. They know this is the path to follow and some are sure that others should follow in their footprints. And they may be right. Or are right, for themselves and for others. And certainly we want to learn from those who have succeeded in what we want to do. Writing is no different in that way.

When I'm talking about writing, I mean all writers and authors, playwrights, poets, novelists, memoirists, and so on. I certainly have a pile, or several piles, of books about writing, on writing, on how to write, for writers and by writers. And many of them are very good. Lots of advice.

So, with all this advice, with people whom we admire suggesting different and sometimes opposing ideas. Sometimes, there might be a little confusion. Sometimes, while we might strive to be like a famous author or editor or blogger or comedian, we might also lose sight of ourselves. Maybe that's okay. No, what I mean is, that's okay if that's what you want to do.

I've been struggling in trying to follow the path of the "famous" or at least well-known in big-time writers and local writers, too. I've been looking at those who seem to know what to do, or at least that's the persona or the platform they've built and it seems to work for them.

But in this process of following advice, I've discovered that I've lost a bit of me. Have you done that, too? Maybe you haven't and that's awesome. Truly. But I have.

I appreciate the hard work and wise words of writers who are living that dream. Who are writing successfully and telling us how they did it. For the pioneers in social networking and blogging and platform building who give us advice. All worthy and to be noted. Yes.

And I appreciate that we are individuals and have our own ways.

What I'm proposing is that we look at who we are and decide how much of that we are willing to let go of in order to be like that writer we admire. Why are we letting go of that thing we do which is a little off the beaten track? Should we? And can we? What is the cost in the long term of undoing a part of who we are?

I'm not saying that sometimes it's not a good idea to alter or improve or put away a piece of us - if that thing is not working. If it's habit and not our truth. If it's not in our best interest and doesn't bring us abundance and joy and a sense of our place in the world.

This is sticky stuff to wade through.

But in the end, as writers, isn't it our voice we're promoting? Isn't it our words and our way of storytelling we're using to promote our craft, our characters, our novels?

So, back to the example of me: if I try to keep my blog "professional" and clean up what I'm saying - or only write things directly (read : blatantly) related to writing - then I'm leaving out where I came from on my blog. I'm leaving out important information about my writing process, which may or may not be relevant to other writers.

I feel like I'm talking in circles here a bit. But I also think this is important.

For some writers, having that platform *is* who they are. They want an angle, a perspective or genre with a slant to be known for; and that's good. Some writers want to be known for their author persona and that's good. I'm not saying it's not okay. But I am saying that we first have to know who we are and how we want to be known. Then seek out the advice and footsteps of those who fit our style.

Just like some people seem to be naturally born sales reps, some of us aren't. Some people are born with the ability to be a chameleon and morph to fit the current trends, some of us have a hard time masking who we are. And there are all of the in-betweens, of course.

I think what's important is to know who you are as a writer. What parts of you fit with that? What do you want to improve or lose or enhance? Then do that. I am not Denise Mina nor do I write like her. I am not Natalie Goldberg and don't strive to be her, though especially some of her earlier writing books were inspirational. Even my mentor and the excellent writer and faciliator and teacher, Ariel Gore - I am not her nor can I be.

Find what is true for you. Follow that.

That's what I'm hoping to do. And I'll start right here. I love doing the Razor's Edge prompts on Fridays and the Radical Writng Advice early in the week and will continue to do so. But I also miss writing about adventures and found prompts and walks and even the mundane at times. These all inform my stories.

Find you and write with her. Look inside and ask what your heart wants you to do; then do that.
.

Being Unapologetic for Following One's True Path



Thien Mu Pagoda grounds, Hue

photograph by Penelope Gan



Earlier I wrote about my struggles to keep with writing my story my way. As I was putting the pieces together for a contest submission, I was looking at what I'd written, what had yet to be written, and how I wanted the story to flow.

I thought about the contest's sponsors: tried to anticipate what they would be looking for. I thought about what other people have deemed worthy literature. Or worthy of publication. Of what an acceptable structure or format would be, how the parts must be chronological or avante garde or traditional or new. That was the hardest one: thinking I had to come up with something totally unique that no one had ever done before or would ever do again and that would be the "wow" that would win me the contest.

Then I thought - wait. It's my story. I'm telling it my way.

And Bonnie Hearn Hill said, yes, to just write. To not edit and to tell my story right now.

So I wrote.

And when it was time, I put the pieces together as I wanted to tell them.

Then today I was talking about this process. Not this exact process with the book, per se, but the whole process - the process of staying with my truth. Even when it hurts. Even when people tell me it can't be done or it's a bad idea or suddently abandon me without even a so-long. Staying with it because this is what I was meant to do, what I enjoy doing, the path I've been wandering along most of my life and it has deepened and strengthened.

And learning not to equate being on my true path with people leaving; which they have, but it's not a cause and effect relationship. Being in my confidence and my truth is being in the flow and in that I get to take pleasure and in that I know I am on my path. I had a good conversation today about this today.

Today I am not giving up - I know, I didn't tell you yet that yesterday I considered it. Really.  I was in "the black hole" and feeling like all this effort was for nothing and nothing would ever change and I should just stop now. Stop writing, stop trying to change, stop trying new physical adventures and fun. But I didn't; and the truth is that now, even when I sometimes dip over the edge of that hole, I'm not in the hole and I keep a forward momentum - even if I have to plug my ears and shut my eyes and say "lalalalala" to keep going.

Today I had a great conversation and did some energy work with mudras (thank you, Pamela). Today I am letting go of old hurts that are not mine to carry. Today I am saying that I am doing what is right and am on my true path. And it feels good. If people leave or people naysay or people try to pull me into their black holes, I can remember today's conversation and remember how I feel right now.

I am on my path and I'm not saying, "sorry." Because this is real.

And I do have the 119 pages of the manuscript ready to go. I'm typing in my outline and project overview right now. I have a very rough brief bio written and a three-sentence project description. It is almost ready to go. And then I will get back to writing the few unwritten pieces and editing the rough pieces. And I will return to editing the novel and writing new short stories.

picture of Koh Tao from TripAdvisor

Truth and Memoir

I've reunited with a childhood friend. My very best friend from second grade until a couple or so years out of high school. She was up here in Portland for three days and two nights for a special event where she was volunteering and she stayed at our house. I also volunteered for the event last night. Then today I drove her home.

I think I mentioned a couple of months ago that she and I had scheduled a lunch in Salem and it went great. I was a little nervous at first, because it had been - well, a really long time. We had been out of contact except for a one email each exchange in 2004.

[photo from
 IslandVacations]

Then we were in touch, again. And now we've just spent three days together.

No - we didn't just talk about the past. We mostly talked about the present, or the recent present, with a few little trips to our shared school past.

It's interesting and I'm sure there will be more that comes up. One teacher she particularly mentioned as being mean and hateful and wicked was the teacher I wrote about last year as being very supportive and encouraging and who made a big positive difference in my child-life. I'm not doubting my friend's experience - but I remember that teacher very differently. My friend remembers my mother being very controlling and not letting me sleep over at her house very much (my friend's mother, in particular, was very liberal; my mother was not). My friend only remembered it being, like, two times. I remember she mostly did come over to my house, but I thought I was over there more than two times. Or maybe it's just that I spent a lot of time over there after school on weekends, but not so much sleeping over. And I bet the truth is in between the two.

We didn't touch on the reasons for our separation - which was not a conscious decision. We drifted; I went through a major life change that was harder in the mid-80s than it is now; and we drifted apart.

Her truth and my truth are both true and sometimes they're not the same. And that's okay.

It will be interesting to see what else surfaces as we continue to get to re-know each other and to re-learn about our past and our paths.

I guess it's true that truth can be subjective.
.

Razor's Edge for March 5th, 2010

Today's theme is TRUTH.

The thing about "truth" is that there is very little that can be said to be absolutely 100% true 100% of the time. I know there are those who would argue otherwise and I know there are those who can find things that are always "true." But an individual's truth is often relative. And the truth of a statement or an event or a look or an action depends on who experiences it and where and when.

Instructions:

Take a couple minutes to center yourself, breathe, relax. Closing your eyes is optional - only do it if it helps you enter the place where you are and be present with what you are about to create.

When you're ready, look at the set of prompts and let them guide you to your creation. As a suggestion, look at the painting, watch the music video (it is both sound and visual stimulus), and the read the word prompt.

Notice what bubbles up to the surface for you.

Then create: write, draw, dance, cook, plant a garden. Follow where your heart takes you.


the painting:

Truth Wanders Alone
by Andy Kehoe

the music video:

Cynthia Hopkins,
of Gloria Deluxe.

the words:
Put two characters in a restricted space. One is content to be where they are because that character understands the importance of this meeting. The only negative thing is that there is no food and that character hasn't eaten since morning. The other character is anxious to go home, but can't do it without the first character's assistance, due to a physical limitation.

What is their relationship? Where are they and why? How do they resolve the conflict and both feel satisfied? Show me a story.

The Women's Theater Company Reunion

reprinted from Serena Barton's blog

Thanks to my student, Jae, from my Women's Studies classes at PSU, former members of the unique Women's Theater Company reunited to talk about adventures we had in the old days.

The group was active from the early 80's through the early 90's and played to packed houses the whole time.

Jae is doing an extensive project on Social Change theater in Portland. I had mentioned to her when she interviewed me for this project, that I had been a member of the WTC in the mid-80's, as had my partner. My daughter appeared in one production in about 1990. Jae was very excited to hear about this company, as she hadn't heard anything about it having existed. Through talking to Jae and meeting last night with the old group, I came to realize how unusual and significant this theatrical group had been, how fortunate I am to have been part of it!

My partner and I were living in Salem when we first heard of this outrageous group in Portland. They were putting on new plays with all women casts that featured Lesbian relationships and promoted feminist ideals. When we moved to Portland in 1983, we found this group as soon as we could. I was in my first production in 1985, where I played a homophobic sorority girl, secretly in love with the main character.

The name of this play was "Alumnae News: The Doris Day Years", written by East Coast playwright Sarah Dreher. Sarah also wrote Lesbian themed novels and was an outspoken advocate of women's and gay rights. A highlight of the run of the play was when Sarah came to Portland to see the show.

In these days of so much acceptance of equality for women and gays, (yes, I know, we're still struggling) it is hard to remember how brave it was for this band of young women to mount feminist and gay positive plays. We did it on a shoestring, too. No grants for this group; just a lot of finagling and determination. I missed the early years of the group where they moved from theater to theater, scraping up rent and having to take the set down every night after performances. I enjoyed hearing more about this time last night. Several of the group remembered how they took movement, dance, and improvisation classes. When Jae asked why they did all this work, one of the group replied, "We were in love. We were in love with our art and our community."

When they first began, the group called themselves "A Real Professional Women's Theater Company." One of the early productions was a feminist Nancy Drew mystery. I was delighted to find that one of us has been a dedicated archivist, and that she had brought copies of all the posters. The posters are quite cool, especially if you consider they were made before computers were part of our lives. Company members designed, printed, and distributed them. They also made their costumes, sets, handled lighting, props, the ticket sales, etc. All in their spare time, because everyone had a day job or two.

By the time my partner and I joined, the Company had a permanent home in the Hollywood District. It was a ramshackle building, and we lived in fear of the Fire Marshal. Members with carpentry talents not only built the sets, but also made alterations to the building to improve it as a theatre and to keep said Fire Marshal happy.

Sometimes there was friction in the group, and the company had a hiatus for a while before I joined. Community won out, and after most members had started therapy, they came together again to mount more productions.

Before my time, the group took tap dancing lessons so they could put on "The Lydia Pinkham Menstrual Show." This might seem a silly title today, but remember than even mentioning menstruation in public was a radical act. The group often made its points through humor, such as using the name of an old patent medicine in the title of this show.

Jae and Deborah listen as members
describe Lesbian/ Feminist life in the
70's and 80's.







Members of the company were happy
to reunite and rejoice in what we
had accomplished.





Poster for the Menstrual Show









Poster for Last Summer at Bluefish Cove--I was in this one!










A longtime member of the company reviews a scrapbook

I'm so grateful to Jae and to all the members of the old Women's Theater Company--thanks for the old memories and the new perspective on this amazing experience!

not really random: thought on prejudice

I wonder how it is that people can be so hateful about people who are gay. Still; in 2009. How do they think it is okay to talk so openly about their own prejudice as if there is no one else in the room fully of young men and a few middle aged staff as if no one in the room is actually gay/homosexual/lesbian/queer or questioning? With the number of humans in this one space, statistics say there will be a minimum of two and mostly likely, four to six of us who fit into the category these people are wrinkling their noses and shoulders at.

And I wonder, again, why I keep silent.

Or I don't wonder. I'm there as a professional and a professional who is supposed to be neutral on pretty much any matter that arises. I have a code of ethics I must follow -- oh, excuse me, now it's called the code of professional conduct -- which says that I am not supposed to have an opinion nor give advice nor counsel on any matter within my work settings.

So I hide behind the professional curtain. I am so 'out' in the rest of my life. In my teaching. In writing classes and workshops. Online. Pretty much anywhere. Even in this particular work setting, there is one female staff person who I've only seen three times out of the many I've been there, who I told; her daughter is a lesbian and was going through a break-up and so we ended up talking while my client was napping. But she talks is whispers and her initial mention of it was a little derogatory but I told her anyway.

Sometimes, like that setting, I am surprised at the level of hate. Shocked. I forget that these otherwise nice and responsible and generally respectable people can have such disgust over how people different than themselves love.

And I believe that nothing I say would change their minds. So I keep my face in the book I'm reading or my eyes on the stupid movie they're watching and I say nothing. I don't respond. I don't laugh. I give them the silent treatment, although I know they don't notice.

not-quite-lucid dreaming

So it seems that I actually *d0* compose stories while I sleep. Or something. (There was a discussion a couple weeks ago in the forums of a writing workshop I'm doing which was about writing while sleeping.)

I vaguely remember the following conversation - or part of it - with my partner in the early morning hours. Early morning for me, since I didn't go to bed until about 4AM - and I know that some people are getting up, or, gasp, already up and dressed, at 7AM. But not me, today. Anyway, my partner had the idea to write down "our" conversation and give me the transcript later.

So here's how the conversation went - remember that I was acting, and in the moment believed myself to be, awake and coherent - :

me: I forgot to get her weight (pause) her measurements. What's-her-name Green. I need her weight.

S: why?

me: For the rocket stuff. (pause) I don't know why. I'm just supposed to get it.

S: You're not making any sense.

me: ... I (pause) ... [snore]

It's a sign of stress when I start having these half-conscious conversations. I don't have transcripts of the previous ones, but do vaguely remember a couple of them. One, I was typing on my partner's back and talking about some filing and reports that needed to be done (this was in the early process of realizing I needed to not be at the job I had at the time). The earliest one I remember was early in my relationship with S; I was trying to get my step-son to stop eating and then throwing up cookies and chopping up the counter with a butcher knife (the little guy was actually fast asleep in bed; I was a new step-parent and was totally unprepared for the role).

Lucid dreaming? No, just processing events of the last couple weeks. It was just funny to have the actual transcript, and to remember that we had a conversation, and that I was partially conscious and it felt so real in the moment. And S has great delivery and timing - so hearing her read it back to me was a part of the smile I was given this morning.

It is also a note to self that there is a stressor in my life right now which needs acknowledgment and/or attention.

Paper Beads Through Lace Curtains
photograph and beads
by Dot.

wisdom and insight

After a good night's sleep, desayuno delicioso, a couple cups of coffee, and a couple glasses of water, I was ready for our second writing workshop this morning. It was our first round of sharing our writing and sharing feedback. For me, it was also an opportunity to get to know the other writers a little more, since I had missed the first one to two nights to do that due to flight delays.

This is a delightful and diverse group of writers - all of whom are women. Being female was not a requirement, it just is what happened.

I was one of the lucky ones today to be able to share my writing. I was a little nervous, since I had just met most of them. I am always a little nervous when I share my writing; even with my partner, which may seem silly that I would be nervous showing it to her after being together for nearly twenty-six years - but there you have it. So I was not upset about being nervous - I know that is just how it is and I can handle it. I felt good about my writing, received good and valuable feedback, and picked up on a few things in my reading of it which I had missed in the writing. When I was reading one section with one character talking,I started thinking that it was time for that person to shut up now - it had gone on too long. And I did get external validation of that fact.

And as I listened to the different writers reading, I had several important insights and what feel like pieces of wisdom. Those are some of what I came here to find, although I couldn't articulate that even last night, let alone when I signed up for this workshop in the beginning of July.

One thing that struck me is how I felt that all of what was read and said was "true." Not necessarily true in the sense of real life facts of the author experiencing the story (some were and some were not) - but true as in this was her author's voice. Nothing felt forced or phony or show-offy. It all felt like "I have something I want to say and this is it." It did not matter if it was raw or revised, rhythmic poetry or staccato teenager speak wanting to get high or a five year old searching for safety - it was real in the telling. It did not matter if the author was a poet or columnist or novelist or grad student.

And in that truth telling, I had a spark of feeling that I can do this. I can write. I have found my voice. I am a writer. I am writing. I not only can, but I am, doing this. And I do not have to be a particular type of writer or write in a specific way or about specific things. I write about what I see and experience and think and dream and make up. No, it is not all real but there are pieces of reality and the words I write are real in the context of the story.

These other women writers are real, too. And they have words which fit them and say what they have to say. And together we are a small community come together in Oaxaca for the week. To share our passions and our stories and our dreams. And our wisdom from being writers in the world.

photograph of
As the Crow Flies
encaustic by Serena Barton

rejection slips

Just a thought....

In the April 2008 The Writer magazine, author Tom Miller Juvik wrote the article, "Build an Effective Strategy for Short Stories." There were many tidbits of information I circled and starred, and I enjoyed his honest and lighthearted tone. One section I especially liked deals with rejection letters from potential publishers. He said that in order to turn rejection into success, it is important to "understand that there are four main reasons why a story fails to make the cut:

• It might not be good.
• It could use more work before it is ready for publication.
• It doesn't fit the needs of the publication.
• The editor is out of his gourd."

I AM

A spoken word piece by Eric Mata

I want to update my K-inspiration image (K as in a mathematical constant) and I want to preserve this video in my blog, so I'm moving it to the contents section.

I have a confession

I have a confession. I am a writer and, until recently, I wasn’t writing every day. I wanted to; I planned to; and it didn’t happen. I am not only a writer, I said defensively. I do other things and my day job sometimes starts before the sun rises and ends some twelve to fifteen hours later. Not that I get paid for every one of those hours; it includes driving from place to place which is unpaid, and searching for parking, and everything that goes with this type of work. Self-employment is grand and, sometimes, the hours required to make a few bucks are long.

But I digress.

Over and over I’ve heard that, in order to write, you have to write every day. Because of several failed attempts at daily writing, I committed to writing most days. Some weeks that worked and then, “most days” became, well, four days is a majority, right? Then it was, well, this week was only three, but that’s all I could do. Really. Then that slipped into thinking “maybe next week I can write.”

Several years ago I went through The Artists’ Way with a small group of friends. I did manage to do my morning pages every day and it was helpful. Then one day slipped, then two days. And soon, with a change of careers which meant going back to school, that was dropped. I thanked the Morning Pages for helping me find the new career and told them, “Tata for now, I’ll see you when I come out on the other side of this river of courses and cultural adjustments and have built my new career.” Which I assumed meant two years of college and maybe one to two years of getting established in the new profession.

That was thirteen years ago.

Over the last couple years, I started going to writing workshops and groups again. When I go, I write more. Not surprising, because it helps to be around people who assume I’m writing. I know it’s not really them holding me to my commitment, it’s me. But having a place and people to interact with keeps it higher on my priorities list.

Having a writing partner helps, as well. Two weeks ago I met with my writing buddy and he, fresh from a three week vacation in France, announced that we must Write Every Day. He was reading a book I gave him a couple months ago, which was touting the necessity of daily writing. Yeah, yeah, I agreed. If only we had the time. Yeah, he agreed. And we said we would try to write most days, when we could. We also share the other profession.

Three days later I started this blog. I awoke that day knowing it was time to stop saying, “I will” and change it to “I do.” For whatever reason, I have a blog ethic: if a person is going to do one, you have to keep it up. And for writing – that means to write.

This blog – in addition to my desire to share my experiences and inspirations with the hope they are useful to someone else – is my commitment to myself to write every day. Not everything I write is posted here. My other writing includes revisions, pieces of poems, freewrites from a spark of inspiration – and I’ve been visiting WordLush to gather the list from the Daily Word Spittoon and writing something from that. I have been posting those creations at The Writing Vein Playground.

When I let go of having to sit in one place and write at the same time every day for a specified amount of time or number of pages, guess what happened? I’ve been writing every day! Sometimes it’s 15 minutes, sometimes it’s two hours. Sometimes I’m working a new story or revising an old one. And sometimes it’s this blog and the word spittoon game.

Look folks, I’m writing!

"Black scribbler" by Dot. 1992
12" x 48" silk painting

Fiction or Non-Fiction: is that the question?

When I emailed my story to the writing group last week, I did not identify it as either fiction or non-fiction. This was deliberate. This story most likely falls into the category my friend, Alexander, says is a ridiculous concept: creative non-fiction. Alexander’s perspective is that all fiction is creative non-fiction; well, most, anyway. Regardless, there is some obvious-to-anyone-who-knows-me truth from my life in the story and there are parts I edited for the sake of a better read.

My purpose in submitting the story to the group was to get feedback on whether it did or did not work. Some people thought it was fiction; some thought it was non-fiction. One person said he wished he would have known it was non-fiction, because he would have looked at it differently.

I did not hide the genre out of any ill-will or mean spiritedness – I wanted honest feedback. This piece tends to bring out the pity filter when people think it’s all true. I wanted their opinions based on what they read, not on how much of the narrator’s story is mine.

Regardless of the category writing needs to hold together. The readers need to feel drawn in to a story and it needs to be well written. Should we excuse so-so writing because it was a personal experience? Should we evaluate writing more harshly because we think it was all made up with no feelings attached? The answer to both is, No, of course not. With some exceptions, I’m sure; pretty much everything has exceptions, so why should writing be any different?

I did receive useful feedback and people in the group were honest. But this question of whether or how much of it was “true” and how that affects giving feedback has been rolling around in my thoughts like a marble in a jeans pocket in the dryer.

It’s a story. Do you want to read it or not? Why or why not?

"Sum of My Life"
collage by Dot. c.2007