One author's life in the writing trenches with news about her new NOIR SERIES, the pains and joys of writing memoir, her lust for travel, and an imagination that won't shut down.
Listen Up, Me Hearties!
I let few fellow pirates take o'er the Gobsmacked, but this week I give the wheel to Barb Sullivan. I once penned a letter of reference for her and in it I stated, if I were independently wealthy, I would pay all her expenses so she could do nothing but write, for she could lead this motley world out of its mess.
I still believe that. If ye ha'n't seen her blog, then you're still a landlubber, mate. And if ye believe as I do that a good woman is not hard to find, only hard to recognize in today's world, then ye might want to pass this parcel of wisdom on.
I be back next week. Until then ...
At your service,
Captain Val
Special bonus this month in response to Val’s comment on the thing I wrote in May about judgment: Tell an INFJ she epitomizes the kind of person who can save the world, and here’s what happens: she will come up with a how-to list, just like the one she produces when grocery shopping, or prioritizing home repairs. (Actually, I think it’s a pretty good thing that only 1% of us seem to be wired as INFJs, because if there were more of us, we would drive the rest of you nuts.)
How to Save the World
1. Put the oxygen mask on your own face first: Sever relationships that are abusive; end, starve, or allow to wither relationships with people who subvert your healthy growth. You know who they are.
2. Put the oxygen mask on your children: Believe in them, especially when they screw up. Repeat until they believe in themselves.
3. Opt for faith over religion.
4. Do whatever you can to increase women’s literacy because it’s the most effective lever on population growth, and it works without regard to culture or belief systems.
5. Speak truth about power, not to it (don’t waste your breath).
6. Realize that not everyone is playing by the same rules. This explains so much, and makes solutions so clear! People who have a conscience are at an extreme disadvantage until they realize it’s optional equipment that the base-model, predatory human uses against them. Predators are still around in the gene pool because they are good at what they do, and at camouflaging their intentions, so…
7. Stop believing what people say. If you want to know their motives (and you should), look at the hard evidence.
8. Then wake up the chickens, get politically active, and chase those snakes out of the hen house because they are cold blooded reptiles with primitive brains who think global warming is going to be like a day in the sun on a nice hot rock.
9. Lower your expectations, but never your standards. There is such a thing as the way things really are; truth is not all that complicated. (Neither is love: when someone has loved you, you know it.)
10. Despite everything, try to live gratefully; it’s contagious.
Aye, it’s been another week of merriment, this time in ol’ PTown with me first mate. Rose Festival gearing up there, sailors everywhere as it’s Fleet Week, plus a carnival at the waterfront. (Yes, Adam, I'm back, arrgg-ing and bloggin'.)
But as all good things must, the birthday celebratin’ has come to a fittin’ end with the May drawin’, a bit late I confess.
The Drawing
Had me best mate draw a name from me hat of all those who emailed and commented on me blog and here’s the winner o’ me France anthology plus hot off the press, the first copy to go public, Jan Eliot’s ninth collection of her cartoon strip “Stone Soup” with the more ‘n accurate title of Brace Yourself. (check it out at http://www.stonesoupcartoons.com/) I be sendin’ ‘em both to:
Lou Maenz of Springfield Oregon
Congrats, Lou, me heartie! Glad ta hear ya could use some humor and good news!
Pirate ship in Cabo san Lucas
This week, fer fun, I be sending along a few guest comments I found entertainin'. They have their own categories, so listen up! And enjoy.
Opinion
Captain, My Captain!
I stand with you on deck to toss the very word (dare I say it) - Platform - overboard. Do not misunderstand: I have great admiration for those who have yacht-sized ones and keep them afloat. My 'platform' is so small that I balance on it with toe-room only. My social networking is called email contacts and writer events. "Do you have FB?" he asks. "Yes!" (Which I almost never look at it and have exactly 3 FB friends, who just happen to be REAL friends not simply cyber-friends.) "Do you have a blog?" Well, no, but I'm linked to 4 good ones that teach me lots—and I barely find time to read them much less answer them so exactly when would I actually write my own??? But I digress. As for a website—I'm working on it; kind of; actually I'm thinking about it—in between writing my book (and occasionally a sellable essay). Truth is, until forced by winds of an agent, my 'platform' is Office Chair with Butt In It. No glamour involved. Some assembly required. Scaffolding sometimes.
I do not despair. I am breathing it (memoir) and teaching it (senior life-writing) and writing it (nonfiction). I am a writer. I can't help it.
LJ Bousquet
p.s. Do not ask me to Twitter. Me old mother twitters about everything and anyone and it shivers me timbers.
Confirmed Gossip
From me pal, Randy Sue Coburn, who used ta work at the Washington Star:
And here’s my little tidbit for your zeitgeist hopper: In my cub reporter days at the DC newspaper, I did a telephone interview with a certain bodybuilder turned actor. He asked me what my bra size was. When a guy has to grope a girl even on the phone, well . . . to quote Captain Renault, “I’m shocked, shocked to find out that gambling is going on here!”
Pirate News
Well shiver me timbers! Dolly Parton has joined me pirate ranks.
MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. -- In a dramatic change, Dolly Parton is hoisting the Jolly Roger and tilting her sails to the wind, matey! Pirates' Voyage is docking in Myrtle Beach! The spirit of Blackbeard and his buccaneers, Captain Kidd and Anne Bonnie sailing the coast of the Carolinas, comes to life in a new show opening in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina in June of 2011.
Fer now, me hearties, that’s this week’s news. I be gettin’ back to the promised logs next week. I leave ya wi’ this little ditty from me long-time shipmate, Jan Eliot, who sent it ta me for "my" birthday jingle. Love it and her!
Smooth sailin’ and treasure ahead,
Captain Val
COMING UP!
“Oh, Google, My Name is …”
… and IN TWO WEEKS the interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven
Hearties! Birthday week has come to a close, festivities ha'e ended, and my Gold Galleon has turned back into a wooden ship.
I haven’t fergotten you, however. You’ve been on me mind. As the Merry Month of May comes to a close, I be prayin’ for better weather and wantin' to inspire your creativity with a tour of me captain's cabin.
Me Captain’s Cabin is not fer the faint of heart. Aye, I work surrounded by what I call “my ongoing collage.” Me Mum, bless her British white glove and need for neatness, decorated my bedroom with lavender floral curtains and frilly girl stuff, not that I don’t girly up myself, but hers was a wee bit constrained: my only place to post tidbits of self-expression were on a newspaper-size bulletin-board, too small for the likes of my imagination.
What? you say. Still flogging that piece of fluff? Well, aye! You don’t feed an imagination by restricting it, although there's an argument for that one, too. And I've heard some questionable comments o'er the years about me room.
A former friend once returned from San Fran and, after tourin' one of her favorite, famous-artist’s studio, she said, “I can’t believe you do exactly what he does! His studio walls are covered with Marilyn Monroe memorabilia, too.” I guess my creative impulse had no cred on its own.
Mum used to say to me (with great hope in her voice): “Winston Churchill believed you become more conservative with age.”
Not bloody likely. A pirate is always a pirate. Consider this a tour of my rebellion, freak flag flying (and also a peek into the room where I work).
If ye be wonderin' why the Marilyn Monroe homage? At age eleven, when I heard o’ her death, I cried, not understandin' why. An icon had died? She was beautiful? Died young? I felt her vulnerability? Oh, sure she was famous, beautiful, sexy, all the external things we worship. But I felt a deep internal emotion. I've always championed underdogs, and later, I recognized her an underdog, no matter her so-called success. Inside she was an intelligent, creative woman who was used and abused by the powerful, and never really seen. Oh, she'd been photographed plenty, but truly seen?
Over the years, an idea brewed: if I held her up, gave her worthiness in my own mind, I could somehow raise her up. Oh, sure, the psychoanalysts out there are havin’ a field day with that one! I can almost quote those lads and lassies. But, as my husband says, who’s complaining about a wife who covers walls with beauty?
‘Nuff. Onto the photos!
A pair of awards given to me by artist Bets Cole a long time ago for the exotic earrings I used to wear
Photos of girlfriends, writer's group, and my handwritten manuscript of my first novel
Ganesh, elephant god of fertility, creativity, and removal of obstacles, (the gold one is actually a chocolate) & one of the many small drawings my best pal Jan Eliot has given me over the years
One of my favorite juxtapositions: David Bowie (R, in white) and the dancer Mark Morris (upper left)
Just a few of my Marilyn Monroe collectibles
The north wall and where I face when working
Part of my altar with the Snake Goddess of Crete, Marilyn, fairy, and a Tibetan blessing bowl. The box is my "goddess box" where I put written prayers for those in need
Creative outpourings & blessing to ye all!
Captain Val
Ahoy, shipmates! A drawing for free books. Only a few days left!
Leave a comment before June 1 to have your name in the drawin’ for two books--a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, and a signed copy of a book by another author. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!
Followers Email Comments:
I also heard the rebroadcast of Shteyngart's interview and was, like you, initially dismayed and then delighted. He's hitting the nail on the head & as the mother of two BOYS who love to read (gasp), I want to remind all of us that if we don't buy it/watch it/do it, then it won't happen (as much): if we want readers, then we need to be readers, and that means reading to our kids and providing them with books that intrigue them (for my kids, that includes sports novels: gawd bless Mike Lupica & John Feinstein, two very fine sportswriters-turned-YA-authors). I'm with you, too, on wanting/needing long chunks of uninterrupted time in which to write and read ... so I'll stop responding to your post, now and get back to my own work! -- LESLEY HOWARD
Happy birthday! -- LOU
I've lived in the Pacific Northwest for 34 years and am an avid reader. There's nothing like being on a river rafting trip and spending the afternoon curled up on a warm rock (try it sometime) and reading away the afternoon. Or being ensconced in a warm sleeping bag and reading by headlamp as the moon and stars make their way across the sky. Or pulling out a book from a daypack and reading while your feet are cooling off in a gurgling stream. Or in a bubble bath or on the couch or waiting for the bus or . . .
I think the Pacific Northwest provides the perfect environment where books can be read wherever you are. And you can quote me on that. – JUDITH WATT
Hey Gobsmaked Pirate Lady,
Am enjoying your blog, and meant to send a reply in reference to the camisole you referenced a couple versions back….
As a found object to think about; to write about….
“How did it get there?” … etc. kinds of questions you suggested … remember??
Well, I had a bit of a different take on the notion of the camisole, and just for fun,
I figured I send it along to you. This is a little something I jotted down a while back- not too long ago. The camisole is mentioned, but only in passing reference to the …. Well, you can read it for yourself;
It’s attached.
~ DAVE the Wave OATMAN
“Oh farther, farther, farther sail.”
w.w.
COMING UP!
“Oh, Google, My Name is …”
… and IN TWO WEEKS the interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven
Have ye e’er been bothered by a wee word? One that should be tossed ov’r board and fed to the sharks? Good. ‘Cause here’s me rant. And here’s the word.
Platform.
Aye, sweet writing buccaneers. I can already see a few of ya ready to mutiny. But be honest now. Have ye not come to wretch when ye see the word? Have ye not bristled, choked back a curse, gripped your sword and wanted to draw blood when someone asks, “What’s your platform?”
This drivel, this flat piece of shark bait, this dead piece of word smithing, is not worthy of us. It shackles us to someone else’s chain of cheap commerce. Are we free, creative beings, or are we toeing the line of someone else’s gobshite?
For those pirates out there selling their “platform wares,” I’m not stickin’ it to you. You’re as much a slave to this as we all are. Aye, I understand the “we-have-to-promote-and-market-our-books-and-ourselves,” but do we have to do it with so little …
Imagination?
Creativity?
Days ago on NPR’s Fresh Air, they be re-broadcasting author Gary Shteyngart’s interview with Terry Gross ‘cause his novel Super Sad True Love Story is out in paperback. Alas, I be thinkin’, another author slinging his wares.
But I stayed on his story, and glad I was! He’s a true pirate with his irreverent talk. From his tales of growin’ up fat to observin’ that porn is norm these days, he was entertainin’. He’s a funny buccaneer, he is. Then he was asked why he be makin’ a satirical trailer for his book and he says,
"Well, nowadays nobody wants to read books, so anything you can do to sell book, you know, if I could sneak a book into - inside a knish and sell it that way, you know, buy the knish and then read my book when you finish eating it, that's fine with me too."
Shiver me timbers!
A knish?
Brilliant!
Hark, Gary Shteyngart!
I’m on board with the knish. I’m on board with the satirical trailer. I’m on board with someone who, I think, can replace the boring, overused, flat form of platform.
Gary, can you do this?
To Ye Readers
Not a writer's platform
For all ye beauties who read, I should explain.
A writer’s platform is not a shipping crate turned upside down, shoes with very thick soles, or a structure where you sacrifice virgins to your gods.
In the writer’s world, a “platform” consists of all the tools to sell your work—Twitter, email newsletters, Facebook, videos, blogs, signs trailing a blimp. It’s all about raising name recognition. It’s all about … well, let me give you Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen’s succinct explanation. She’s author of the blog The Adventurous Writer. Laurie says,
“To build a strong writing platform, you need to be an entrepreneur and marketing guru with established followers.”
Arrrghh!!!
Yet, truth be told, she’s not tellin’ the worst of it.
‘Tis rumored that before an agent or editor even reads a manuscript, they Google the writer’s name to see how much name recognition the writer has already established before they buy the bloody novel or memoir!
Not a writer's platform
For ye landlubbers who have never sailed these waters, here’s another truth. Publishers, even after they buy a novel, don’t promote—with the exception of best-selling authors. (Refer to Sun Tzu’s Art of War for how strategy favors sending re-enforcements to the winners and those battling the worst of odds are left to fend for themselves.) Aye, we write the novel, spend money on independent editors to give our novel the best chance for publication, submit to agents and pray for acceptance, wait, wait, wait, and then wait some more for the agent who accepts you to submit to editors, and when accepted by an editor/publisher (and you’re hopefully not turned down by their marketing rep), you down your rum in celebration, knowing they’ll promise to promote you to hell and back, but only deliver a “product” (this is your book) that you will have to promote to hell and back if you ever want to publish again because you never will publish again if you have mediocre or bad sales.
Aarrr, and you think that couldn’t be the worst news?
In the Fresh Air interview, Gary Shteyngart says:
"You know, everyone's a writer. Nobody wants to read but everybody wants to write. These MFA programs, we can't, you know, we can't turn them away. There’s just millions of applicants. Everybody wants to be a writer. It’s this huge culture of self-expression."
An exaggeration, true. Twenty or so years ago, Natalie Goldberg said twelve-step programs produced a dearth of writers (they journal, they all have an important story to tell, they need to express themselves). Shteyngart’s statement brings us into the internet age where everyone can express themselves. (Aye, point your finger at me.)
And that increases the competition.
Add to that the A-Type personalities, extroverts, writers with no scruples, or people who capitalize on their worst traits and sins in the open confessional of the internet. (Need proof, check out “Mommy” bloggers.)
But blast the devil! What if you don’t want to express yourself in blogs/Facebook/tweets? What if you’re undermining your creativity and deep-ocean talent by swimming in the internet pool? Or what if you’re an introvert and have no desire to “share?” What if you’re Type B like me? I need me sleep, love me leisure time, have no desire to fill every bloody waking moment with action. I love to daydream. I love to ponder. I’m a slow reader and writer. If I had to write a blog every day, I’d throw myself overboard! When I work on a novel, I lose meself to uninterrupted time. To have me time broken up by all this “platform building” is enough to sink a ship. Don’t get me wrong, I know the necessity, but curse it.
Airr, if I must play the game, throw me a bone, a scrap. Make swallowing this bilge a little more magical, sexier, inspiring.
Replace this platform anchor.
If Gary Shteyngart can’t conjure up a magical, sexier, inspiring replacement for the word, how ‘bout ye pirates out there?
I do my possible, so for the time bein’, instead of sayin’ I’m “building my writer’s platform,” I’ll be saying, “I’m sailing my writer’s vessel, the Gobsmacked.” ‘Tis a little sexy and magical with an irreverent punch because Gobsmacked is how I feel about this pre-publishing marketing shite.
And now me, lovelies, back to the real work.
And a merry month of May to ya!
Captain Val
* * * * *
Ahoy, shipmates! Help me celebrate my birthday!
For the month of May, I’ll be givin’ away a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, along with a surprise: a signed copy of a book by another author who … I just keep ye guessin’.
Here’s me instructions: leave a comment on me blog, and your name goes into the end-of-the month drawin’. The more comments, the better your chances. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!
Bonus! Every captain needs followers and here’s how to serve yer captain. Bring a mate on board Gobsmacked by having them sign up to receive me blog. For every mate you bring aboard, your name goes into the drawing three times. I’m using the pirate’s code of honor for this. Just tell me you signed ‘em up. No cheatin’ now or it’s the gangplank!
Also from Gary’s interview:
“I think the Pacific Northwest is like the last place where books will be read in the world.”
Gobsmacked: Celebrating Me Birthday Month with a Giveaway!
For the month of May, I’ll be givin’ away a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, along with a surprise: a signed copy of a book by another author who … I'll just keep ye guessin’.
Here’s me instructions: leave a comment on me blog, and your name goes into the end-of-the month drawin’. The more comments, the better your chances. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!
Bonus! Every captain needs followers and here’s how to serve yer captain. Bring a mate on board Gobsmacked by having them sign up to receive me blog. For every mate you bring aboard, your name goes into the drawing three times. I’m using the pirate’s code of honor for this. Just tell me you signed ‘em up. No cheatin’ now or it’s the gangplank!
The Deep: Captain Val's Answers to Last Week's Questions
Last week, I wrote ‘bout how a writer’s job resumé offers nothin’ but a skeleton of their experience. Writers ha’ to dig deep into personal experience to understand human nature and create living, breathing, believable characters. Some authors might disagree, but they don’t sail on my ship.
That’s why I suggest asking more personal questions of authors at readings. Depending on the nature of the book (‘cause you want to ask pertinent questions, not superficial, sensationalistic ones), the questions can be related to what the novel or memoir brings to the surface for you emotionally.
Here’s where I dive in deep water. Remember the questions I posed from last week?
“Ha’ ye ever been close to dying?”
“Ha’ ye ever taken a dark road and been lost?”
“What terrifies you and why?”
As promised, I’ll ask ‘em of meself and tell ye how they relate to life and work. A’right?
Ha’ ye ever been close to dying?
Job experience in me twenties: drive-in restaurant waitress, telephone switchboard operator, movie theater ticket sales person, keypunch operator for a woolen mill (Ah, that dates me!)
Life experience and answer to the question:
Aye. At age twenty-three, I was beaten and had a knife put to me throat by a bi-polar, alcoholic Vietnam Vet who I was divorcin’ at the time. I’ve used that fear and aspects of the experience in me writin’. I’ve also used the characteristics that kept me alive—strength, determination, resilience, and street smarts. I learned first hand about PTSD, what war does, how it effects families, what violence looks and feels like, and can empathize with those who continually face the threat of violence and death during war and at home.
Ha’ ye ever taken a dark road and been lost?
Job experience during my thirties:artist, editor of a literary arts magazine, graphic artist, cultural resource coordinator for the arts
Life experience and answer to the question:
No. I’ be lost a time or two, but ha’ ne’er taken a dark road. Even when I was wi’ me ex-husband, we had a child, traveled, and moved to Oregon from the East Coast. My son and Oregon were my greatest gifts from the ex, and I troll those waters, too, for me writing. The dark always yields to the light.
What terrifies you and why?
Job experience from forties onward: strategic planner at a community college; graphic designer and illustrator; writer
Life experience and answer to the question:
Nothing terrifies me, not after the experiences of my twenties, after the death of my best friend in high school, the suicide of my father, the terror of my ex. I follow me passion, have a terrific family, live in paradise, have the love of a great man, and if anything would frighten me, it would be the thought of losing any of my family, especially outliving the young ‘uns. But I don’t live there. I do however explore the possibilities, using those fears in the current work in progress “Parallel Crossings” where the five-year-old daughter of the main character is kidnapped by her ex-husband, and the girl is never found. That’s how I work the whole bloody thing into a story.
Guest author Erika Dreifus answers one of me questions
To show you scallywags what happens with authors when you ask questions like the ones above, I contacted Erika Dreifus, author of the brilliant debut short-story collection Quiet Americans. The connected stories about the Jewish experience during and after the Holocaust are so different and rich with characters who feel so real, I had to ask Erika the following question. Her answer follows.
Have you ever had a personal tragedy that gives you a strong empathy for your characters and what they had to endure?
“I think that the opposite situation may be true, that the immense good fortune and privilege with which I have been blessed are what have attracted me to the characters, themes, and events in Quiet Americans. It is because I find it so difficult to envision coping with the challenges that are woven into the stories that I have tried so diligently to do exactly that: envision. Then, too, the fact that certain characters and circumstances are so closely modeled on my beloved grandparents and what they did, in fact, have to endure does add a strong dose of personal connection to the mix.”
* * * * *
So there ye ha’ it! All told, if ye do one thing this month to celebrate me birthday, go to an author’s meet and greet, reading, or signing. No bones about it. They put their whole life into their work, and we benefit.
From the Gobsmacked ship to yours, a hearty hi-ho!
I’ll be Gobsmacked! The news comes pouring in and I bail it here (links listed below):
I continue to chase down Captain Jessica Maxwell, that slippery lass, and shiver me timbers, I’ve booked an interview with her on May 26th. She’s sailing at top speed! She’s writing a Bhutan book proposal, a NW Palate assignment, and traveling to New Mexico and New York for research on her big AARP assignment, “Retreats.” For those who follow her Roll Around Heaven adventures and want to join her, she’ll be doing a RAH! Workshop in Sun Valley, Idaho May 19-23, followed by giving a RAH! talk in Portland, Oregon, on May 25.
I’m tired to me bones just writin’ this!
One of my long-time favorite authors, Alice Hoffman, turned me on to a guilty pleasure—the television show “Being Erica.” As she says on Facebook, “… therapy and time travel, what more can you ask from a TV series!”
Don’ sail past her latest work of fiction, The Red Garden, a collection of linked stories that, after readin’ the first four stories, seems to ha’ disappearing as a theme. In her magical way she takes ye through two-hundred years in the town of Blackwell, Massachusetts. Being from New England, I love the mysterious, the dark, the Gothic, so these stories makes me blood surge.
A hearty lift of the tankard to Jennifer Egan who just won the Pulitzer for her A Visit from the Goon Squad, a novel on me “best reads.” Attn: Time Magazine: it’s TIME! Put her on the cover.
The always adventurous Seattle7Writers have launched Hotel Angeline: a novel in 36 Voices. A fleet of writers collaborate on a novel? Aye!
Now, to Captain Val Adventures!
The Fountain of Creative Ideas, or
Why My Resume Wouldn't Land Me a Normal Job
The Fountain of Youth, or
What Does a Writer’s Resumé Really Look Like?
Where to begin, me hearties? Why, at the end of me last Captain’s Log, that’s where!
I still be thinkin’ on that chandelier. It’s me love of lights, of things that sparkle. Why? ‘Cause I write about the dark things in life, seekin’ the proverbial “light at the end of the passageway.” It’s a pirate’s life to seek treasure, to find it in dangerous places.
Like the great, and sometimes despicable, captains of yore, who struck out for the land of milk and honey or spices or gold, or to find a continent in the name of a queen, it’s the adventure, the mystery, their curiosity that kept them going. O, aye, they set their hearts on bringing home booty, but as in any adventure, isn’t the pursuit the real treasure?
And me point? Well, mateys, ‘tis the same for writers. Aye, our ultimate treasure is to hold a book in our hands, knowing others are reading our tale.
But the real adventure, the treasure, is in the writing, setting forth the story that won’t be quiet. Aye, indeed, a few buccaneers need to publish for glory, but I haven’t met any of those scallywags yet. Settin’ out to write a New York Times bestseller is akin to sailin’ out to find the fountain of youth. We all desire recognition, to be knighted, but that’s external and elusive. What sets us on the writing journey is curiosity and longing, and that comes from within.
And here’s me point (aye, I’m a long-winded bag o’ bones) for this Log:
A writer must always be searchin’, must always feel hungry, must always be dissatisfied.
Aye, it’s a sad truth. Under that beautiful calm sea is a sunken ship with barnacles and some weird strange creatures livin’ inside.
Some writers don’t try to hide this. Some are sailin’ the seas with their freak flag wavin’ brilliantly for all to see. Hoorah!
But most don’t. Most seem almost—dare I say it?—normal.
Don’t be fooled, readers. Ya see, writer’s ha’ two resumes. One they use for job searches (aye, the majority of writers work another job) and one they hide. And for writers, it’s the latter they draw on for their work. Think of it this way: some writers openly sail those scary troubled waters with memoir. Every writer has a memoir in them, but many prefer the fiction world, an escape from those troubled waters.
Here’s me advice for fishing those waters when attending a reading of one of your favorite authors. Don’ bother asking questions like “Have you ever had writer’s block?” “Where do your ideas come from?” or “Who’s your favorite author?” Yawn! They’ll just give ye the standard answer.
Go for gold. Ask, “Ha’ ye ever been close to death?” “Ha’ ye ever taken a dark road and been lost?” “What terrifies you and why?” Tailor those questions to their work. I guarantee that will wake up the audience and the author.
To keep ye hooked and for me to sail, in the next Captain’s Log I’ll show ye how those questions apply to me life. I’ll tell ye where I fish for my material, what me subterranean world looks like, what creepy little creatures live there and where they came from. I’ll actually answer those questions above.
Ah, the deep is a scary place, but sunken treasure lies there.
News and confirmed gossip for you, messmate writers and readers:
Sugar
Seattle7 Writers Group member Randy Sue Coburn says she knows who “Sugar” on The Rumpus is. Arrrrrgh! I’m dying to find out. Will she tell? Nay! I love Sugar, a columnist for The Rumpus who is one of those straight shooters with heart. Stern, yet loving. She calls everyone “Sweet Pea.” What a great friend she’d make: she tells the truth while giving concrete advice on how to handle your woes and sniveling. (So, Sugar, if RS can figure out who you are, I’ll bet you’re somewhere nearby. Portland or Seattle?) Readers and writers will love Sugar’s column, “We are All Savages Inside,” where she gives “Jealous Writer” a good thrashing. Check out her link at blog’s end.
And if you’re not familiar with The Rumpus, don’t ask me what it is. It defies definition, although Wiki states it’s “an online cultural commentary site.” Snore! You really need to be there, in the experience, to appreciate it. Kind of like the ‘60s.
I’ll not be fergettin’ the Seattle7. They’ve taken on a new crew member (Should the Seattle7 change their name to Seattle7Plus?), one of my favorite authors and transplants to our watery Northwest, Erik Larson, author of The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic and Madness at the Fair That Changed America.
Ah, now there’s a tale!
My favorite news of the past few weeks:
Here’s my gutsy new heroine—Lidia Yuknavitch. Besides writin’ a powerful personal tale that will swing ya round the yardarm, she stood up in front of an audience at Powell’s in Portland to read from her memoir—in fishnet stockings, a swimsuit, swim cap and goggles. She threw souvenir goggles to the hungry sharks in the audience. Lidia, a true buccaneer, spirited away these folks with a reading from Chronology of Water.
Read Debra Gwartney’s review linked below.
FOUND OBJECTS
Last Captain’s Log, I wrote ‘bout found objects as a way to set a writer’s ship to sail. In art, ‘tis easy to understand the use of found objects. Here’s what Wiki has to say:
“A found object, in an artistic sense, indicates the use of an object which has not been designed for an artistic purpose, but which exists for another purpose already. Found objects may exist either as utilitarian, manufactured items, or things that occur in nature. In both cases the objects are discovered by the artist or musician to be capable of being employed in an artistic way, and are designated as ‘found’ to distinguish them from purposely created items used in the art forms.”
I be suggestin’ that this idea belongs to the writerly craft, too, only the found object can be anything that makes itself known, that twinkles and flashes bright, and demands notice. At the time of “founding,” it may not figure consciously, but will later land in a writer’s work and can even be a piece of art that is used metaphorically, perhaps to elucidate the theme or represent an idea.
Bread & Puppet Museum
A few years back, I sailed to Seattle to spend a week with a friend. We was searchin’ for somethin’ to entertain. We bought tickets to a shadow-puppet play. We was gobsmacked. I’d just been at a month-long residency at Vermont Studio Center and had the great enormous pleasure of seeing the famous Bread and Puppet Theater group perform and met the founders. The two experiences combined for a lively discussion with my friend and so inspired her that, much later, a character in her now novel-in-progress took up puppet theater as her artistic road.
In movie making, found objects are called motifs. Perchance, writers do too, only I like the substance of using the term found object instead of motifs.
Are ya readin’ a novel or memoir now? Keep an instinct for something that lights up on the page like Venus in the night sky. A necklace made of pop tops. A heart-shaped rock. A pretty camisole fluttering on a clothesline in the breeze, then worn by a teen, and finally found on the floor of an apartment. Why is it there? Did the writer first see this on a walk through an unfamiliar neighborhood? What does a camisole represent? Sometimes, the meaning isn’t clear at first. Or right away, say, you sense the camisole represents vulnerability.
Here be another example. Last Log, I posted this photo:
No caption. No explanation. Stumbling across those chandeliers in Miami grabbed me gut. I couldn’t shake the image. The store was floor to ceiling with expensive objects, from shelves of Fabergé eggs to Art Deco marble pedestals. But those chandeliers lit me up.
“Where did you find all these?” I asked the storeowner.
“I do not find them. People come to me.”
Really?
“The people need to sell. Times have been difficult.”
Ah! Here the rich sell off their riches. Maybe it’s me pirate blood, ‘cause I was entranced. Sure these trinkets are small doubloons for many, but for me chandeliers are prime booty, and not of the derriere sort. Chandeliers are motifs of the rich. Objets d’art.
I wonder where in my stories they’ll appear? But until then, they appear only here and in my treasure chest of found objects. So … until the anchor drops again in a land that glitters I am …
