From Toxic to Bliss?

There have been some interesting posts recently that discuss expectations, jealousy, and ideas about navigating the emotional rollercoaster that is the writing world.

Here's my two cents:

The ups and down of writing, revising, attempting to get an agent, get published, get reviewed, and the list goes on, inevitably produces the full range of human emotions from euphoria to rage to despondence. More often than not, this mental yuck will be directed at those of whom we're jealous or who we blame for our current dire-seeming circumstance.

Rather than hiding from these volatile feelings or pretending that we don't experience them, I think it's best to find productive ways to move through the toxic mire of envy and self-doubt to the Elysian fields of hope and confidence. To achieve this end requires conscientious, thoughtful traversing through one's own psyche.

When it comes to human relations I still don't think you can get much better than the golden rule: Do unto others as you'd have done unto you.

There's a reason this saying has been enshrined at the United Nations.

But even with the best of intentions, it's important to acknowledge and experience the emotions that come with the darker sides of writing life, namely rejection. So how can we rage without doing permanent damage?

I think I found the answer in the All-American Rejects song "Gives You Hell."

With this wickedly catchy song and what is perhaps the funniest video I've ever watched, the message is clear:
Yes you'll get angry, yes you'll be frustrated, yes you'll feel crazy, but at the end of the day it's all about walking a mile in the other person's shoes, knowing we're all in this together and that we're all human.

Notes from an Historian

I had the pleasure of hearing a plenary address from Laurel Thatcher Ulrich last evening. In the history world Ulrich is known for her work on early American women, and in particular her Pulitzer Prize-winning book, A Midwife's Tale.

Most people don't know that she's the person who coined the phrase: "Well behaved women rarely make history."

For all the accolades she's received Ulrich is an incredibly humble and gracious woman. In her remarks she had two points to offer that I thought were particularly salient to aspiring authors.

One: "You're not in this alone."

The writing world is a collaborative one. What would we do without families cheering us on, beta readers giving hard, but fair critiques, fellow bloggers sharing their experiences and aspirations, agents championing our work? Writing is often a solitary activity, but at the end of the day we're part of a community that we couldn't survive without.

Two: "You can't be rejected when you know you belong."

This point derives from the fact that Ulrich's prize-winning book examined the life of Martha Ballard, an eighteenth-century midwife whose existence had been dismissed as "unimportant" by historians for decades. Laurel Ulrich brought Ballard's harrowing experiences into the world at a time when women's history had barely drawn its first breath and still had many years to fight for the legitimacy of its existence.

Writers face rejection constantly. The mantra of authors, agents, editors, and writing gurus remains the same - keep writing. We write because we have to. We write because we know we belong. It will happen, keep writing, keeping dreaming.

And finally, in honor of Utah (where I'm at a conference for the weekend), I give you one of my favorite teen dance vids from bygone days when I had big hair and I wish you all "Something Good."

Into the Wild

It's official - my manuscript scampered off into the forest of editors TODAY in search of a happy, profitable home. (Commence nervous twitching now).

Charlie Olsen and Richard Pine of Inkwell are the agents who've put their stamp on the novel (thank you, thank you, thank you!); the agency has been amazing and I'm grateful for all the enthusiasm they have for my writing.

Wish me luck, folks, updates will appear on this blog. I'm not known for my patience, so waiting will be hard, but I do believe that dreams and wishes can come true. Waiting for the brightest of our hopes to take flight is well worth it.

Worm Hunt

My last evening spent in Ashland, Wisconsin involved a time-honored ritual for fishermen of old.

I went crawler-huntin' with my dad.

After a soaking rain these ground-dwelling creatures will emerge from the sodden earth and it's in these brief moments that fishermen can catch them.

Now night crawlers are not your typical, skinny earthworms. They are big and unbelievably fast. And for anyone who is thinking "oh catching nightcrawlers for bait is so cruel!" just keep in mind that nightcrawlers are an invasive species in North America. I'll hunt these big boys, but I'm also the girl who "rescues" earthworms that are stranded on the sidewalk at dawn. I hate the thought that they'll cook on the pavement and so I'll transfer them back to the dirt if it's not too late.

My dad and I crept across the lawn, flashlight in one hand, ice cream pail in the other. Any sudden movement or light shined a second too long on the worms and they dart back into their holes. Yes, dart. Again I can't say enough about how ridiculously swift nightcrawlers are. I learned quickly that if a worm caught my eye one second and I looked away, or hesitated, it would instantly disappear with no evidence that it had ever been above ground.

It took about five worms for me to get my catching technique down, whereas my dad had a bucketful within a few minutes. He's been fishing a long time, while I've been living in the city.

When I asked my dad about how I could surprise the worms, he made a comment that lodged in my brain.

Me: They're so fast, how can you catch so many?

Dad: Don't shine the light directly on them, keep it a little to the side. And they come up here to mate, so sometimes you'll get two at once. They're all wrapped up in each other and they don't notice anything else.

Me (*chuckles*): Love blinds and destroys.

I found it strange that nightcrawler habits could offer such a striking metaphor for human life. Maybe we're not that different from worms after all. Has any one of us not become so caught up in love or our own lives that we fail to take notice of the world around us - no matter how important what's happening outside our own experience might be?

Daydreams and Ferry Trips

I'm blogging from the homestead, Ashland, Wisconsin - small town settled on the South Shore of Lake Superior.

I'm here because my bathroom is currently being demolished. A leak had developed beneath the floorboards and had it gone any further, I might have ended up like this:

http://kstp.com/article/stories/S506173.shtml?cat=1

Fortunately, that crisis was averted, but I'm temporarily homeless but for the grace of my wonderful parents.

I dragged a fabulous colleague into the Northwoods with me and she's been an amazing companions. In the midst of academic hell this past year we found soul sistership; she dreams of creating films the way I dream of writing novels. Needless to say, we became fast friends.

Yesterday we boarded the ferry to Madeline Island and gazed out over the velvet blue expanse of Lake Superior. It was cold and spitting rain, but we still beamed and frolicked on the island.

We also plotted. And found a promise...a promise to ourselves and each other: To have that elusive site, the artist's retreat.

Someday we'll find an island or coastal hideaway in which to be our best creative selves. That making such a place a refuge amidst the obligations of life will be a priority and will help us realize our dreams.
Turning the eyes and mind heavenward to stretch toward dreams is both comforting and essential to the survival of an artist's soul. It helps to think of the ways we might best cultivate that side of ourselves, which the world so often smothers beneath harried tasks and mundane obligations.

What are your dreams of the future? What place or event would make your creativity take flight?

Can't Help Myself...

Apologies to any Twilight haters out there, but...



I can't wait! Plus, it's nice to know that if someday my books could make the leap to movies at least they can do nice things with instant shape-shifting. I was also very happy to see that Summit sought out First Nations' actors to play the role of the Quileutes in New Moon. The deployment of "Indian" characters without the acknowledgment or realization that Native American peoples are very much a part of our contemporary world happens all too often in book, film, and real life. If you're interested in this topic two great works are Celluloid Indians and "Indian Wars: The Movie" in Indians in Unexpected Places.

Happy weekend!

In Memoriam

David Eddings passed away this week. This author had a profound influence on my own ideas about fantasy and writing.

It was a strange coincidence that I'd just been reading about Eddings' accomplishments in my husband's alumni magazine from Reed College (Eddings graduated in 1954 so needless to say they didn't cross paths on campus). The author recently donated a large sum of money for scholarships at the school and the article mentioned that he was suffering from a severe terminal illness. It was only a few days later that I learned of his passing.


My copies of the Belgariad and Malloreon have been read so many times that the books' spines are in various states of disintegration. Eddings created amazing, believable worlds and characters who were impossible not to love.

When I finished the Mallorean the first time my heart broke because it was like saying goodbye to a collection of intimate friends.

The final words of the text are these: "And so, my children, the time has come to close the book. There will be other days and other stories, but this tale is finished."

As in writing, so in life.

Thank you, David Eddings, for making this world brighter with your wonderful writing. Here are the flowers of my neighborhood in honor of your work.