Writing in the San Juans: A New Start

Here I am in Friday Harbor, with 5 of my favorite friends: Judy Bodmer,Nancy White Carlstrom, Katherine Grace Bond, Janet Lee Carey, and Dawn Knight. Together we are mighty: the Diviners Writing Group. Each week on Tuesdays, we meet for an afternoon of reading and critiquing each other's work. We laugh together, cry together, and turn out some pretty amazing stories and books. Just click on their websites, to see how true this is! And each year, sometime in September, we meet here in the San Juans for an intense 5 days of writing, walking, eating and sharing together. Each year we go home from this retreat with new stories and books begun, and stalled out books rejuvenated. Plus, we see whales, deer, amazing sunsets, and best of all--the goodness and creativity in each other. If I could give every writer a gift, it would be this blessing of the San Juans, and this amazing writing group.

Soaring with The Eagles

Wow! It's been a long time since I've posted a blog, though many of you have been following my adventures in Alaska via Facebook. I just arrived home from this amazing trip Thursday night, and my mind and heart are still filled with vast and startling images of Denali and Kenai Peninsula. My overall favorite memory is flying in a small four-passenger plane over the Harding Ice Field, 40 miles long. We got to fly up and over six of the 32 glaciers, great rivers of ice flowing out from the Ice Field. And the single image that will stay with me always, is flying up the Russian River to Russian Lake, where we looked down at grizzly bears, wading in the river to catch salmon. We were close enough to see a mama grizzly and her two cubs walking along the bank of the river. Then, as we watched, two bald eagles flew beneath our plane, wings outstretched, white tails fanned. And I thought, I have flown ABOVE eagles. This is what Alaska means to me--to fly above the eagles. I will not forget.

Opening the Gift

Today is the Fourth Day of Christmas, and I am reflecting on all the lovely celebrations our family has had this past week. We started with my daughter Deb's birthday on December 22cd, which we celebrated by attending the Nutcracker, the Pacific Northwest Ballet performance. This was a special gift since my 7-year-old grandson Weston was seeing it live (with full orchestra) for the first time, and was enthralled. His delight was a gift to all of us, as he watched the entire performance, eyes wide, barely moving in his seat.

The next day we had our family celebration at my daughter Laura's home, with lots of laughter and food, and of course, the opening of presents. Grandson Josh opened a huge container of Lincoln logs and from that point on, he and his Daddy, and several of the other cousins were totally absorbed as they built an entire village (or so it seemed as tracks and buildings spread across the living room.)

On the following morning (Christmas eve) 25 members of extended family met for breakfast at a local restaurant, and who should make his appearance but Santa Claus, astounding all of us (who really didn't expect him so early.) The gift of his appearance brought smiles to all of our faces.

Christmas eve night, we followed our family tradition of opening one gift each. Seven year-old Weston could not wait to have his Mommy open the gift he had made for her, a lovely India ink etching of a cornstalk.

An hour later, after hanging stockings, I was off to church, with the joy and privilege of singing in the choir for our Christmas eve Mass. Such gift, as we sang those familiar hymns, the church lit with candles, Christmas trees filling the nave with their spicy fir smell, glowing with hundreds of white lights. My heart was truly full, God's Gift of Love so present all around and in us.

And all of this, before Christmas morning,which was wonderful in itself.
There are Gifts of all kinds. This Christmas week, I am thankful for all of them, but most especially thankful for the Giver.

Hang On To the Leash!

Last night I saw a dog walking himself.
Really.

I was strolling along in our local park just before sunset when a Golden Lab trotted by me, one end of his leash properly attached to his collar, the other end neatly folded between his teeth. There was no master-type person in sight.

I watched, transfixed, as the dog trotted purposefully along the park walk, but then as dogs will do, picked up an intriguing scent and veered off on the grass, heading over the nearest hill. At that point, a jogger in the distance, turned around, and, catching sight of the dog about to disappear over the hill, gave a holler. The dog, fortunately, did respond and galloped back, leash in mouth, to his owner.

I couldn’t help smiling, and thinking, as I’m apt to do, how this very situation reminds me of my story writing process. Too often, I forget that I am the author, the master of this story, and I let it go galloping off, far from where I was initially headed. “My character just took over,” I say sometimes. Or (worse) “I think this is just one of those plotless stories.”

Nope. It really isn’t so. What’s usually happened is I am so busy being “creative” I’m not taking the time to plan out the story, or to periodically go into my editing mode to see if plot, character, setting and all those other writerly things are happening in my story.

I’m letting the story go off on its own, just like the dog last night. At first it may seem to work, the story may trot along on a nice story arc, but sooner or later, without a little tug on the leash from me, I guarantee that story will gallop off over the hill, and I probably never will find a decent end for it.

It’s a good thing to ponder at the end of my writing day.


Coming up soon: Part 2, Creative Detours,
Or: Is it ever better to just let the dog go over the hill?

Backyard Campfire

This week we had a fire in my rose garden. Really.

My grandkids (Josh, 4 and Amanda, 6) asked me, “Grandma can we make a fire in the backyard and roast marshmallows?” And I, good grandmother that I am, agreed.

First we had to find a safe place to build it. There was a nice bare spot in the rose garden. (I spend more time writing than gardening and my rosebushes periodically succumb to neglect.)

Josh and Amanda cleared the area of stray weeds and dug a small fire pit. Next they circled it with stones, and then together, we carefully arranged a pyramid of paper, small kindling, bigger kindling, and readied a log to put on top, should our fire stay lit long enough to do that.

We were (to my great surprise) successful! After a couple of false starts, our fire began to burn bright. As Josh and Amanda did a delighted fire dance, I began to think how this process of making a campfire is like the process of making a story.

First we have to clear a space, both in our lives for the time it takes to write, and in our hearts for the emotional work needed to create a story.

Next we need to circle up the stones—to put up some barriers around that space we’ve created. For me that means saying no to lots of lunches with friends, shopping, TV, and other such things.

Then we arrange the materials that will create the fire. It takes some time and thought to arrange those flimsy paper thoughts that will then light the kindling of a stronger story idea. This, if carefully fanned by the breeze of our spirit, then flames up with a real, true-to-my-deepest-heart plot that catches fire with a believable character and setting to finally ignite that mysterious and wonderful fire log we call STORY.

We did roast marshmallows that day, Josh and Amanda and I, a most satisfying end to our day. Just like a good story can be.

Family Reunion

We did it! 40 of us came together in my Kirkland, Washington home this summer for a long-awaited family reunion. Children and grandchildren, sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews came from New Mexico, Arizona, Florida, California, and even from Berlin, Germany to celebrate.

For me, a sun-lit moment occurred when my granddaughter, 2 year-old Anika reached out and took the hand of 3 year-old Ceci, her cousin from Berlin. “We are family,” she said.

And I admit it, I had to swallow down my tears, because in 3 words, my granddaughter Anika spoke the core truth of why we had come together.

We are Family.

We have different ideas about almost everything:

What to eat (vegetarian for some, barbecued steak for others)
When to get up (5:30 AM appears to be the time of choice for 1 year-old Louisa, but definitely not for the rest of us.)
And where to go (Seattle Center and the busy waterfront shops for some, a quiet forest hike for others.)

And yet we somehow managed to accommodate everyone, not all at once, and not without compromise. We laughed a lot, ate a lot, talked all hours of the day and night, and we cried together, especially when we had to part.

Through it all the blessed truth rang through, and left us all smiling to remember:

We are family.

Watching For Whales

I just got back from a wonderful writing retreat on San Juan Island,
For 6 blissful days, I, along with the other 5 members from our Diviners writing group, spent hours at a time writing. We stayed at a wonderful house that looks out over the waters of the San Juan Channel with Mt. Baker in the background, and tiny Turn Island almost within touch.

Yesterday we drove to Lime Kiln Point to look for whales, The resident orca pod had been spotted there just the night before. We didn’t spot any whales, but each of us has had the great joy of experiencing at least one good Whale of an idea in our time away here.

Much of writing, I find, involves watching for whales: first that whale of an idea that will captivate our energy and interest for the unexpected amount of time it will take to write the story or book. Then we watch diligently, searching for a whale of a good character who will carry our great plot idea forward.

And of course, there’s a whale of a lot of writing and rewriting involved in this whole process.

So it seems especially appropriate that we spent our writing retreat here on San Juan Island, where everyone agrees, Watching for Whales is a worthy way to spend your time.

Vacation Research

Tomorrow I head home from my wonderful San Francisco vacation. The evening sky still glows an azure blue, as I watch the oak trees silhouetted along the top of the ridge outside my bedroom window. I'm thinking of Bree, main character in the novel I'm currently writing.

Part of my reason for this visit (besides spending time withLinda, my delightful writer daughter) was to get a feel for the area where Bree spent all her life before her recent move. So Linda and I spent time in the Embarcadero area, where I imagine Bree spent time skateboarding with her friends.

I got the feel of it in a way I couldn't from just reading--the smell of the breeze off the bay, and the sounds at noon, with folks grabbing wraps from the nearby lunch stands and sitting on the steps by the fountain and fending off the pigeons looking for lunch as well.

And now I have a memory, a Bree memory that has already popped up in the new scene I wrote this week.

I love doing research this way, for my stories on vacation. It makes me see and feel and experience all of life, not just my stories, in a new way, an all-of-the senses way.

Try it. Wherever you travel this summer, listen, and taste, and smell. Look at the colors and shapes of all you see. Writer or not, it's wonderful research for Life.

Mmmm.

I just felt the slightest touch of the evening breeze. Must sign off now, to go outside--to taste and smell, and feel it, before I head for home tomorrow.

Bald spots in our writing--and life

My, oh, my--this picture tells it all. My beloved 4 year-old grandson Josh took a pair of kid scissors to his hair this week, and now has an outstanding bald spot. Even the best efforts of Mommy's favorite hairdresser couldn't do much about this!

Sometimes it's like that with our writing too. That well-intentioned chapter just doesn't turn out the way we planned. And sometimes no matter how we try to smooth it all out, to trim around the edges, to make that bald spot blend in, it just doesn't work for the story.

Sometimes we just have to wait. There are times when we need to ponder and dream and mull it all around, while we wait for the story to "grow out" the way it's supposed to.

Just like Josh is waiting for his hair to grow out.

Building a Monster Bug, and Other Writerly Research

I sometimes find myself doing research for my stories in the strangest of places. Like this week when I found myself on a local Seattle pest control website.

I love to use animals and bug creatures of all kinds in my stories for kids, and have found it zooms the interest level up when I do – a story bonus both for the kid readers, and for the busy editor who wants something a little startling or unusual.

So I was delighted when I found the kid page on the Eastside Exterminator website. The very first Fun Fact (about an ant lifting 50 times its weight) gave me a great idea for a story for Clubhouse Magazine, one of my current publication targets.

I admit I got sucked into the website for longer than I’d planned, when I discovered the Build a Monster Bug Game included on the site. But hey! I built a very credible lady bug while I was there, and now I’m mulling around a way to get ladybugs, of which I’m particularly fond, into another of my stories.

I encourage all you kids, and writers for kids to take a look. Even those of you who like to write scary stories may be inspired. (Did you know a cockroach can live up to 9 days after losing its head? Now that’s creepy!)

Have fun with your research. You just might find yourself coming up with a brand new story that excites and delights you.

And your readers too.


PS. If you happen to run into any real bug problems (like I did when wasps invaded our house the week of our big family reunion) Eastside Exterminators can help out there too!

Sesame Street, This is Your Life

I received one of the most startling, albeit joyful, shocks in my life two weeks ago when our Western Washington SCBWI awarded me the first Lifetime Achievement Award during our annual conference at Mariott Hotel in Redmond. It was truly a surreal moment to recieve a standing ovation from over 400 of my dear fellow writers and illustators.

My award included an engraved plaque and clock, and an all expense-paid trip to the national SCBWI conference in LA in August, which I joyfully look forward to.

But what stay in my heart in these days since the conference are those words of love and affirmation spoken by so many of you during the "Sesame Street This Is Your Life" portion of the presentation. Sara Easterly sent me a copy of all of these, as I was too much in shock to take it all in as you were speaking. My heart is warmed each time I read these over.

You give me courage, all of you, as I continue on my writing/teaching journey.
I'll continue to share some of the joyful moments in late posts.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Ack! I see snow in my last blog entry--must get a new blog entry. Okay, so I could do a blog with lots of rain images, and how the rain makes our creative spirits grow, but right now, today, at 3:42 this lovely Tuesday afternoon, the sun is shining, and my red tulips in the front yard are just starting to peek out. (The brave white ones bloomed two days ago, even in the rain.)

So that is how it is with our writing too--some of the stories just huddle away in the quiet parts of our hearts until the sun shines on them enough to open them up to our conscious. But some of our best stories open out and flourish in the rain, even sometimes in the storms of life.

It's a good thing to remember for those of us who live in the Pacific Northwest!

May your stories bloom this week, both in the sunshine and in the rain.

Looking forward to seeing many of you at one of our favorite Story Blooming spots, the SCBWI conference in Redmond Town Center. Just three days to go!

Snow Day in February

Our unexpected snow storm has me smiling. I love walking in the snow, I love making fresh snow cones, flavored with maple syrup. I love making snow angels and snow forts with my grandkids.

But mostly (today) I love that I am snowed in all alone, and everything else I had scheduled has been canceled. That means I have a writing day with no interruptions, no hurry, just time to try this and that--to brainstorm that devotional I just thought of, to finish up the Clubhouse Jr. story and send it off, to work on my new Highlights story, "Sophie and the Dragon." I can put all those handwritten scenes into the computer for my new novel, THE BOOK OF BREE.

All things are possible on a Snow Day. I'm signing off now, to have the best kind of Snow Play ever--playing with my writing.

Snorkeling with Sea Turtles

Christmas music is playing, it's cold and gray outside, and I am untangling Christmas lights. But my heart is still in Hawaii. So hard to believe a week ago today, I was standing barefoot in the sand on Wailea Beach in Maui, surveying a three-foot tall sand castle just completed by my grandkids Josh and Amanda and their Daddy. Their absolute delight when Daddy discovered a live crab in the sand as we dug, makes me smile just thinking about it.

There's something about discovering a new place with a four and a six-year-old that brings life into full and living color. One sunny morning during our stay, we took a boat cruise out to snorkel with the Honu, the giant sea turtles. I will never forget the yelp of pure joy when almost 6 year-old Amanda Rose came nose-to-nose with a turtle bigger than herself. She pulled her head out of the water, and couldn't stop giggling with sheer delight. She quickly put her face back in and she and I enjoyed several mystical minutes as we floated serenely along next to Honu, who did not seem to have read the snorkeling rules about no physical contact between humans and sea life. Honu very much wanted to be friends with Amanda and me, but we did keep a few inches between us for the most part.

It was an experience I won't forget, one of many during those joyful 12 days in Hawaii.

I hold these memories in my heart, treasures to journal, to relive again and again as I write my stories for children.

This is one of the great delights of writing; every experience can be relived and shared with others.

And now I'll go back to untangling lights and stringing them on every bush and tree I can reach. Time to leave Hawaii, at least for awhile, and begin to live into the joys of Christmas.

May you all have the joy of discovering Honu with an astounded grandchild--or stringing brightly colored Christmas lights for others to see, and to smile.

Tell Me A Secret

We all love secrets, right? The excitement of having a good secret, wanting to share it with someone we trust--and the fun of discovering a secret as well.

Well now the Secret is out, and it's Holly Cupala's wonderful new book, TELL ME A SECRET. To find out all about it, take a look at this amazing trailer:

I have the joy and honor of being in Holly's writing group, the Diviners, and smile as I think of all the little secrets from this amazing book that I got to learn along the way, as Holly shared chapters with us in writing group.

Now the Secret goes out to the world! I can hardly wait for all of you to join me in acclaiming Holly, as you meet and come to love Rand in this wonderful new book.

Once you read the book, you won't be able to resist sharing the Secret.

Gnomes in the Garden

One week ago Saturday, I stepped into a Story Garden. Immediately, like magic, roots grew down into the ground, connecting me to a rich substrata of writers, editors, agents, all with amazing stories to tell. As I wandered the Story Garden (known to some as the SCBWI Western Washington Writing and Illustrating for Children Conference) flowers of every sort shot up out of the ground at my very feet. I watched with amazement as one particularly bright colored blossom (Genus Lainius taylorus, fuschia petals, quite lovely) began to speak. Wondrous tales of a circus troupe within her very being, struggling to emerge, wove a spell around all of us in the Story Garden, prompting great excitement at the possibilities for each of us, ready to bring forth our own fruit.

As the day wore on, and we were watered, fertilized and shone upon by Master Gardeners Jay Asher, Peter Brown, Edward Necalsulmer IV, Jordan Brown, Lisa Graff, Paul Rodeen, Michael Bourret, Sara Crowe, and so many others--voila! We bore fruit. Many of us scurried to secret corners, to quickly capture those first buds of a new story, the tentative tendrils of a plot twist.

No garden is quite complete without a Garden Gnome, and by early afternoon, our very own gnome appeared (see above), cheering us on, giving bits of writing advice to each of us who captured him before he disappeared back into his own hidden garden, once again to write.

And now each of us have returned to our own secret gardens, treasuring all we brought back from that magical weekend, seeding our own stories to bloom in due time.

Watch our gardens grow!

pictureHOPE

I received a special picture in the mail yesterday.
Entitled The Cat, it was drawn by my five-year-old grandson Weston, who lives in Santa Fe.

Anything that Weston draws is special.
But this picture has particular significance. Weston created this picture in response to his Daddy, who has already raised over $7000 for DWB (Doctors Without Borders) to help the people of Haiti. Weston's dad, Eric Keller, mobilized many of the photographic artists he works with, each of whom contributed one of their photographs for a fundraiser for this cause that has torn all our hearts asunder.

When Weston saw his Daddy hard at work on the exhibit, he asked if he could do a picture too. He understood that many people were hurting, and wanted to help. My heart is so touched by my dear Weston, as well as his Dad. Of course, I was honored and delighted to have first opportunity to purchase this one-of-a-kind artistic work.

I encourage you all to look at the many prints offered in this amazing exhibition and fundraiser. http://www.soulcatcherstudio.com/exhibitions/haiti/index.htm
You may find something wonderful to bless your home or place of business, and at the same time help the people of Haiti.

I will smile each time I look at The Cat, framed here in my writing office, and rejoice that so many care enough to reach out in times of need, including one very special five year-old grandson.

Mirror Images

Okay, so I've promised to give some snapshots, some scenes, from the Amazing Family Reunion. One of the best echoes in my mind from that event is the moment my two adult sons, David and Michael, got their first look at each other after two years apart. In that two years, lots of things have happened. Both became husbands and dads in that two year span, and I had the great joy of holding both one year-old Cecilia, and (then) one month-old Anika Faith.

But one of the most startling moments for me came afterwards, looking at the pictures, seeing things I had not seen before. In one amazing picture (take a look!) I am holding Ceci, and my two sons are looking across us at each other, sharing a brotherly memory.

They are mirror images in this picture, and remind me so much of their dear Dad.

But, being a writer, I couldn't help but think what a powerful set-up this is for story, how mirror images in our stories can tell so much. I'm thinking of this today, as I've just done the final (yes, really it is) rewrite of my last chapter for FINDING NONNA.

I am delighting in the wonderful mirror scene I see reflecting the first chapter. I tell my students often that a well-written first chapter is like an arrow pointing to a mirror chapter at the end. It's fun to see it working here in my latest book--Ellie, rescuing the injured snow goose in the first chapter, and at the end, after a hard journey of spirit, rescuing in a totally different way. Ellie is changed, but the elements of chapter one are present in this final chapter, creating for me (and hopefully for the reader) a real Aha! moment.

Like the Aha! I experienced looking at this picture of my two sons, seeing reflected in them my husband, and their love for each other, and the blessing they each have in their new families.

Mirror images of joy.

Putting the pieces together to make a Story

Okay, so I promised I'd fill you all in on the summer family reunion.
True to my word, I did not write this summer, but still the story wove in and out as our family gathered here in my creaky old house with old plumbing. They came from Berlin, Germany, from Santa Fe, from San Anselmo, from Tucson, from Texas. And as we gathered, events began to unfold.

We had a wasp invasion, right through the living room wall one memorable Sunday morning.
We had a major plumbing blow-out (tree roots in the pipes).
We had a record heat wave, 103 degrees, and no air-conditioning.

But we also had a great wedding reception, welcomed the newest baby, Anika Faith (see picture) and celebrated the first birthday of our Berlin baby Ceci, along with that of her Daddy, Michael, (my eldest son.) We had lots of late breakfasts on the deck, a trip to the zoo, lakeside swimming parties at my daughter Laura's home (oh hooray for that lake when the temp soared to 103).

And each day, no matter what the joy or catastrophe (usually some of each) I journalled, just a bit, before I went to bed. Just bits, but the story was weaving, in and out, flashes of character, bits of dialogue, scenes to remember, some dramatic, some funny.

Will these come into the new book I'm beginning? Maybe. But for sure they are woven now into the fabric of my life, part of the bigger Story. The story of family that undergirds everything else I write. I'll share next time some of the smaller bits, those colors and textures that stand out, the pieces of that bigger story.

The Third Eye

Last Saturday I had the great joy of participating in the Northwest Bookfest, presenting a session with my writing buddy Mary Jane Beaufrand (author of PRIMAVERA, and the soon to be released THE RIVER.)

Our topic for the session was "How do you get your ideas?" and I had the brilliant (last minute) idea of heading for our Halloween fun store and purchasing a rubber eye, which I attached with spirit gum to the middle of my forehead, my Third Eye, so to speak. It was blue and a bit wrinkly around the edges, and I must say pretty realistic, once I'd attached it to my forehead, and added a bit of beige face toner.

I explained to my intrigued audience at Bookfest that this Third Eye is what all writers need, the ability to see in a new and creative way, so that we notice those great ideas that just slide by otherwise. Brainstorming together as a group, we used some "what if" situations, and an assortment of objects ranging from Russian nesting dolls to odd-shaped rocks to come up with story ideas. We had everything from aliens perched in neighborhood trees to teleporting tennis shoes. We let the ideas fly with no editing, and I know at least some of the delighted attendees headed off home to write up (perhaps) their first story.

Afterwards, I inadvertently created a lively story scene myself. Driving home from Bookfest, I made a last-minute stop at Trader Joe's, totally forgetting my Third Eye was still firmly in place. I was cruising the aisles with my basket, wondering why I was getting all the strange looks when I remembered it. I quickly combed my bangs over my forehead as best I could, kept my head down, and headed for the checkout stand.

The check-out girl did a double take, but didn't say anything. When I finally made it back to my car and looked in the rearview mirror, I had to giggle. The third eye was peeking out through my bangs, looking more realistic than ever.

All the way home I chuckled as ideas for stories, both funny and weird, zipped through my mind. So yes, the Third Eye, that most creative and unusual way of seeing things, really works.

Try it yourself. I'd love to hear your stories!