Tag: novel

Writing Well

This month’s blog is simply an expression of how I’m feeling about writing right now. Oh, the joy! It feels like my ten years of learning the craft in courses, workshops, and books, plus my six years of writing and re-writing my first novel, have all come together to form a passage through to the end of Draft Seven (a euphemism for Draft Gazillion), also referred to as the Submission Draft.

Finally, I feel like I know what I’m doing. My visualisations of signing a contract, of editing the final manuscript, of beholding a beautiful cover, of holding an actual paper book and seeing it in a bookstore, have all re-emerged. I see myself being interviewed, being introduced as an author, being congratulated on a message well-said. I’m loving it!

So, what has brought me to this point? Enthusiasm for writing, the wonderful people who write, a story that won’t go away, dedication, determination, and resilience. And a year that has so far brought three gifts:

  1. A workshop by Dani Abernathy on The Art of Emotionally Impactful Storytelling (found through the Fiction Writing Made Easy with Savannah Gilbo podcast),
  2. the discovery of Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody, of which I used the summarised beat sheet, and
  3. Jennifer Marshall, a writing buddy turned book coach who has helped me plot a structure that will keep me on track for a strong character and story arc. Since engaging her services, my writing has taken off and so has my confidence.

Every author I’ve ever listened to has strongly advised having at least one writing buddy. Someone to bounce ideas off, check work with, be motivated by. Jen has understood my novel so intuitively, that it’s like she sees the gold vein in the rock walls. She’s able to extract the message of my story, and the good stuff from my sometimes-dense brain. With her reflecting what I say, problems are getting solved.

In all, I’m on track for submitting my novel to agents and publishers this year, hopefully in the first half. Writing my pitch, synopsis, and cover letter for submission might be my biggest challenge. But now I know I can do it. Light is shining from the end of the tunnel.

Here’s my practise pitch:

The Rest of Their Lives is a heart-warming, contemporary story about three friends facing the challenges common to women in middle-life. It’s about love and loss, hard choices, and self-discovery. Set in Australia, India, and Ireland over the course of a year, these three brave women re-write the next chapters of their lives.

And now, it’s back to work – the joy of writing well.

If any of my writing friends are reading this and thinking they could do with a hand, contact Jen through me. I can’t recommend her enough.

India and My Soul

In November, I visited India for the fourth time. I’m drawn to the place like a magnet, like my energy is attracted to its, like my soul gets caught on the prevailing wind.

It is a land of fascinating human history, evidence of which can be seen in forts and palaces and temples. Its people are friendly and musical and resourceful. Of course, it has its problems, and like everywhere else in the world, they’re man-made, but sweeping the trash aside, India is a beautiful and exciting place.

Each time I’ve been, I’ve had a mission: the first was to visit the big sights of Rajasthan and South India; the second to do research for my novel-writing; the third to spend nine days in an ashram at a women’s festival focused on saving the planet (with my guru, Liz Gilbert); and this fourth time was twofold – to check out a residential school for disabled kids run by an incredible woman I met at the ashram, and the other, to join a group of writers in a tour aptly called Story Hunters.

The school turned out to be a treat, a happy place where kids were thriving. Kids who had suffered birth trauma, disease, or lack of pregnancy care, who would normally have no opportunity for happiness, were being educated, looking after themselves and each other in a positive environment, playing sport, laughing. I got to hang out with the girls in their common room, having my hands painted with henna, dancing.

The group of writers turned out to be an eclectic bunch of highly creative and deep-thinking women.

Story Hunters was the vision of a man who wanted to connect a bunch of curious, foreign writers with types of Indians who don’t often get to tell their stories.

Travelling with us was a young Indian woman with impressive qualifications who acted as facilitator, herder, and interpreter; a musician who played violin, guitar and wooden flute, who sang and wrote poetry; and an earnest, young videographer and documentary maker with the sweetest of hearts.

We got to meet with:

  • gypsies who live on the edge of the Thar desert, who perform dances, play instruments, and do tricks like pick up razor blades in their eyelids. Their pride and their personal stories of loss have affected me forever.
  • street-sweepers – a mother and daughter-in-law – who were accompanied by a male family member in order to be decorous.
  • a jeweller who broke away from his family’s traditional silver-smithing style to make highly imaginative artworks from metals and gems and fossils. He almost died from Covid, then a great light lifted from his chest, leaving him completely well.
  • a Naga sadhu in Benares (Varanasi) who was once a successful software developer who now devotes his life to attaining enlightenment.
  • a Sufi priest who explained that Sufism is about finding truth, liberation, reality, and love. He spoke eloquently, sang Kabir’s poetry, and played tambourine with dancing hands.
  • a tuk tuk driver in Delhi who turned his life around with the love and support of his wife – a love marriage between a Muslim and a Hindu that survived his drug addiction and imprisonment – becoming an honest business owner, able to put his sons through private school.
  • Hijras – people of the ‘third gender’ – whose personal stories of hardship, ostracism and desire for love broke my heart.

We spent days in India’s last living fort, Jaisalmer, and more by the great, holy Ganges in Varanasi. We visited ancient sites including a 350-year-old Mosque built with the remains of a Hindu temple and the remains of a city, reportedly abandoned 800 years ago. We learned about caste, religion, gurus, Hindu gods, and Diwali. We explored alleyways and danced on the river’s ghats, singing Hindi and Beatles songs with our very own troubadour.

My fourth trip to India turned out to be exceptional. I learned so much that it took weeks to process once I was home in the quiet, open space of Australia.

On reflection, I wonder if the gods play their part in returning me there, time and time again.

Vayu, the guardian of the northwest direction and the Lord of the Winds, may be my universal facilitator. No doubt, I will do this exhilarating journey again and like the much enjoyed roller-coaster of my childhood, I will find myself weeping with pain and blissful with joy. India burns in my heart and like the flame of the diya (the sacred oil lamp), it will remain the light of my soul.

REFERENCE

School for children with a physical disability – SKSN: https://sksn.org/

Story Hunters: https://www.blueswan.events/

Writer’s Journey – https://www.writersjourney.com.au/

Between Draft Blues

In the last six weeks I have written nothing to do with my novel. I’m in Pause mode, in the space between drafts. It feels like limbo, like I’m adrift at sea in a dinghy, unsure that I’ll ever make it back to the main boat to which I’m usually tethered. I’ve been patiently waiting on an author-connection to assess, edit and hand back my manuscript.

An established author who is willing to wade through the muck that is a first-time writer’s work, who is willing to pay attention and use her authorly skills to give advice that will better that work, is, in my view, a fairy godmother. My expectation was that copious amounts of magical instruction would be sprinkled over me like fairy dust, acting like a salve that had the power to transform and transfigure my rather voluminous housedress of a fifth draft into a silken, fitted ballgown. With sparkly glass slippers.

Unfortunately, the wonderful author is human, and this is real life and stuff happened that has prevented her from wading through that muck.

And so, I’m drifting. Directionless. How will I fill in time while I wait for another generous, willing author, to make her way through my storyland, planting seeds and slashing weeds along the way?

The first thing I need to do is relax. Many authors advise to take time off between drafts. At least a month, say some. I’ll come back to it refreshed and see it through a new lens, right? But what if I forget what I was trying to say? What if my characters forget to inform me?

I need to distract myself and focus on all the things I think of doing while I’m trying to write. There are a million things I could do varying from reading to exercising, short courses to socialising, redecorating to cleaning grout. Procrastination comes so easily when the manuscript needs work, so why not now? After utilising the initial month’s break for a two week adventure-holiday, catching up with long lost friends, and listening to writerly podcasts – all very satisfying – I’ve found the extra time has not been so productive.

Perhaps then, I need to revert to a schedule. Get up early, do something writing-related for an hour and a half, like I’m used to (I’ve just enrolled in two online writing courses!), read, exercise, listen to podcasts, research something of interest… Am I mad? What human that lives by a schedule doesn’t crave a holiday from a schedule?

I guess the problem is, I just want to get back to writing my book. I miss it, miss my characters, and miss the progress now that completion is finally in sight. It’s been a long journey. I’m in my sixth year of writing. It’s been hard with lots of heartache and angst and deprivation. But it’s looking like a half decent story worthy of the three women characters who are so brave and loving and formidable.

Waiting has always been hard. Patience needs to be practised.

I know I won’t forget the book’s message and my characters are way too keen to have their journey to let me forget anything they need to do. So, I’ll take a deep breath, step back, and let my sub-conscious and the Universe do what they do best: test me, teach me and make magic.

At least I’ve got time to get back to writing my blog.

An Emerging Writer’s Spiel

When it comes up in conversation that I’m writing a novel, I’m usually asked what my book is about. I’ve always struggled with the answer to this, not because I don’t know what I’m writing but because I never know whether to tell the story or whether to reveal what it’s really about, it’s message.

If I was asked by a prospective publisher, I’d want to give my twenty second pitch. But even that befuddles me. There’s the advice that as an emerging (unpublished) author, a hook – something vibrant and catchy – is required. But that’s so subjective I can’t formulate one.

My genre is fairly clear, at least. It’s contemporary – probably women’s – fiction. But if a publisher put literary in that description, I’d be thrilled. Literary fiction is what I like to read. It’s what I admire.

So I’ve created an answer that merges story with message and I hope it sounds intriguing.

It’s about three friends who are dealing with the challenges common to women in middle life. It’s about their experience of love and loss, family and friendship, and the choices they make to rewrite future chapters of their lives. It’s set in Australia, India, and Ireland over the course of a year.

This draft will be finished by June – I’m going for positivity – and then I’ll have another look at that pitch and send off my manuscript to the highly selective world of agents and publishers. I’ll finally walk the talk and show all my commitment and perseverance.

If anyone has any advice for me, please post it here. Likewise, if you like my spiel, encourage me with a thumbs up.

Happy reading, dreaming, and writing, my word-loving friends.

Pushing Through: Writing Past Insanity

I don’t often write about writing but since I’ve been finding it challenging lately, I thought I could share with you why sometimes I think persevering with the writing of my novel is insanity, and why I persevere, anyway.

Firstly, for context, this is my fourth year of writing. I call the draft I’m working on Draft Four because I’ve started again four times. The beginning and end have never changed. The themes and characters haven’t either. The changes happen in the guts of the story and the quality of the writing.

The moments when I question my sanity come when I’m struggling with a scene; it’s the difficulty in creating a story that is right for the character, right now.

The thing is, there has to be a point to the scene. It has to have enough nutritional value for the character to grow or change in some way. There has to be a reason for the chicken to cross the road, and it’s not just to get to the other side. It’s what is going on in the chicken’s head or heart that the reader needs to understand.

And then, the series of scenes need to progress in such a way that the reader wants to go further with the chicken because they can sense that the chicken has great potential and will one day be the mother of all chickens.

The problem comes when the difficulty causes so much struggle that it provokes the fight, flight or freeze response. I glue myself to the desk and write anything because I won’t let it beat me and Liz Gilbert has drummed into my head that perseverance is the way. Or I find an urgent task to do, like rearrange the shoe cupboard, or go to Bunnings for, well, anything. Or I lie on the floor because suddenly, my body is so tired, and I think, how did I come to be doing this?

But then I remember why I’m doing it. It’s because I have a message and my characters are living and standing on the side lines, never leaving me, wanting me to write them in so they can convey it.

And also, because I’ve come so far. Let me explain.

I have spent so long on it that I couldn’t bear to have wasted my time. And I wouldn’t like to be judged a bailer, or worse, a failure. Especially by myself.

I have become a better writer. At first, I was a beginner. Learning a new skill takes time and practise, and with every draft, I’ve given my writing plenty of both. The expression and style have improved as my skill grows. Which reassures me even now, as I struggle, because I know I’m still learning, and I will still improve.

Rewardingly, as a person I have grown. Becoming skilful in something creates confidence. Persevering at something that’s difficult improves resilience. Writing a believable story requires understanding of human nature and the world we live in. I am becoming wise. I am transforming along with my characters. We’re in this together. I can hear them cheering.

Finally, the moments of struggle pass and the words flow. I feel sane and deliriously happy at the same time. Perseverance pays. I will do whatever it takes to cross the line. And whenever I can, I will stop to admire the scene. Eventually, this novel will be done.

PS: To any struggling writers (or creatives) out there – You’re not alone and it’s worth pushing through. Imagine the struggle to be fog. When the fog passes, it will be a brilliant day.

The Pain That Makes Life Pleasurable

I’ve always got a bit of a buzz from doing things that scare me or initially seem too hard. So, when I heard a podcast the other day on the ABC’s All in the Mind on The Pleasure of Pain, I listened with fascination.

Apparently, an element of pain or suffering can give us pleasure through contrast: relief after a horror story, bliss after an ice-cold swim, relaxation after a workout, a happy denouement to a sad movie.

But what I found even more interesting, was that the degree of difficulty, struggle, and effort that went into your pursuit – not too hard, not too easy, but just challenging enough (the sweet spot) – affects how much we enjoy something and how much we value it.

This is true from doing a puzzle, to learning a skill, to playing a sport, to raising kids, to doing our life’s work.

So, it’s not just contrast but a feeling of mastery and control that are key. It feels good to put yourself in a bad or difficult situation knowing that you can take it, knowing that it’s under your control, knowing that you can or are doing well in it.

It’s the incremental progress, the struggle, the journey, that makes life enjoyable and interesting.

For me, personally, this explains a lot.

I like the thrill of a scary movie, or a roller coaster ride, or white-water rafting, or being on a glass walkway, or being in nature in the dark. These are small thrills, fears I conquer easily, but nonetheless, that give me pleasure.

Upping the ante, I have, in the past, liked to challenge myself to jump off rocks into the sea, a pursuit I find terrifying but compelling (only if my kids did it first). It was the sense of victory after overcoming the angst, that made it fun.

Currently, I’m in the midst of two pursuits that are scary, challenging, and involve plenty of pain.

I’m writing a book, which is a painful, difficult, tedious, time-consuming, and challenging process. It’s a high-end struggle that is totally self-inflicted. I get up every morning to an alarm and start the day with writing (and a cuppa to make it easier to do). I put the hours in, tear my hair out and question my sanity. But then it flows. It works. And I’ve written something I’m proud of. And it is so worth it, so satisfying, so valuable, that I strive to do it again. I’m climbing the mountain, a day at a time, and the peak is getting nearer. I know I’ve got this. I know what my purpose is. And the journey is worth it.

I’ve also taken up scuba diving again. I did it a dozen times when I was young, when I had friends who did it, when my husband was my buddy. But there was a long hiatus. Taking it up again on my own, when I’m so much older, has been somewhat stressful. So why did I do it? Apart from the obvious – it’s underwater hiking and I’m a sucker for nature – I think it was because of the challenge, the test of my courage. It’s horribly uncomfortable (all that heavy, bulky gear), makes you look terrible (bad hair, no makeup, googly eyes), and there’s a lot to learn. But the achievement is in staying strong enough, having an attitude of WTF, and knowing how to master all that gear and not die under water. I’m fully responsible for myself, something I’ve struggled with all my life. I am learning to be independent and have faith in my mastery of a skill. I’m losing the fear and it’s exhilarating.

I would highly recommend pushing yourself past your comfort zone and experiencing a bit of pain and suffering, whatever that looks like for you. It will give you a buzz like no other and make your life richer and more meaningful.

Life offers plenty of mountains to climb and we can all climb them our own way.

How will you choose to suffer for pleasure, today? 😉

PS. Remember that it is choice, that it is our own direction, that makes any suffering pleasurable.

https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/allinthemind/the-pleasure-of-pain-v2/13777806

Writing Isn’t Easy – This Writer’s Struggle

I am the world’s slowest writer. I believe that no other writer could possibly struggle as I do, choosing each word as if it were an artisan chocolate, arranging words as though they were precious stones in a glorious Bulgari necklace, sequencing sentences like layers of finely ground nuts, cream and sponge cake in an Austrian torte.

If the results of my efforts were as impressive as any of these, I wouldn’t mind. But they’re not. They might be, one day, but I’m still learning, refining my skills, being the apprentice.

With the amount of experience I have, I should be writing like a landscaper makes a garden, planning, digging, shovelling up words as if they were pebbles and laying them down into paths. It’s much easier to fill a garden with beautiful plants once the structure is there.

This would be the logical and rational approach, even the more creative one. But I’m stuck in a rut. Called perfectionism. Sometimes the struggle to be perfect is so overwhelming that I want to walk away. I wonder if this novel-writing gig is really for me.

But then, I want to tell the story. I’m compelled. I don’t seem to have a choice.

I write this blog between scenes of my novel. It’s a way to communicate, give me a break and actually publish a piece of work. Once a month I get that little buzz of satisfaction that I have produced something. It reminds me that I have something to say. Something I believe in. Something worthwhile.

The idea for this post came to me as I struggled with a difficult scene, one in which extracting the idea was like sorting through a rubbish dump. I had rewritten the first few paragraphs several times, rearranging the words and the sentences. Literally moving things around to find the essence. The needle in the haystack. The point of writing anything. When the writing is challenging like that, distractions creep in. Anything, everything else, seems more interesting, more manageable, more urgent. Even other writing.

I complain about my writing style and yet I continue it. I battle myself, sometimes, to change my ways. Occasionally, creativity flows. But then I see a flaw. And I attempt to fix it. And I’m back where I began. At the end of the day, it’s only perseverance, sheer determination and self-discipline that will prevail. And a belief that my story has value. And needs to be told. And eventually, it will be close enough to perfect.

I reassure myself that it’s not only the hare that can cross the finish line. So can the tortoise.

Credit: Artwork of The Tortoise and the Hare by C A Harland

Novel Commitment

Today’s blog Post will be short and sweet, and a notice that, until the end of the year, it will only be published on the last Friday of each month.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m writing a novel. I am also doing a one-year course called Write Your Novel with the Faber Academy Sydney at Allen and Unwin. Currently, the stakes are high, and the writing needs to be produced. The novel has become my priority: apologies to my blog readers, friends and Toastmasters.

My mantra has become – Just write the damn book! ­Through discipline and perseverance, and also joyous enthusiasm, I shall. Its working title is The Rest of Their Lives. I plan not to let the writing of it take the rest of mine!

The words of wisdom I will pass on to you today, come from The Scottish Himalayan Expedition by W.H.Murray.

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy…The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never have otherwise occurred. A whole stream of events raising in one’s favour…unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.”

Hesitate no longer, my friends. Commit. Persevere. And Providence will provide.

Persevere: One step at a time.

“Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after the other.” Walter Elliot.

This piece of advice recently popped up on the Facebook Page of Australian Writers Centre, on a day I really needed to see it! ‘Perseverance’ has been my ‘go to’ word for the last couple of years, whenever I’m faltering, tired, fed up, impatient or losing heart. It’s a Post It note on top of my jumble of thoughts. So, when I saw this reminder, on a day when I felt like giving up – in this case, the writing of my novel – I thought, ah, that reminder is for me. That’s serendipity!

When things are difficult or unpleasant in our lives, we tend to put them off. Doing the easy things first is a good option: we clear our environment, our schedule, our minds, so that the difficult task can be focused on. This is my favoured technique. The problem with it is, we can keep putting off the difficult task. That’s procrastination! That’s when we need to persevere!

What I like about this quote is that it’s a reminder that perseverance itself, can be broken down into achievable chunks. If we keep going until we reach the next step, we’ll get through to the end. Think of perseverance as a journey with many stops, not just destination. Reach the step, enjoy it for a moment, breathe, and carry on.

Anything worth doing is worth persevering for. Make the struggle count. Make the most of it. Success will taste so much sweeter in the end. But pause along the way and enjoy the steps too. Make it a lifestyle.

Writing a novel is a mammoth task. 90,000 words is not the only task: they need to be the right words, in the right order, to make the right story. It’s daunting, to say the least, especially with the demon, Doubt, sitting on the writer’s shoulder, whispering – or yelling – who do you think you are? Or, your writing is rubbish! The only way to get through it, is to break it down, scene by scene, paragraph by paragraph, word by word. Persevere until the demon, Doubt, gets the message!

Life is also a mammoth task. It also needs to be stepped through, broken into chunks, lived in scenes! Perseverance is required for each stage, each goal, each battle. Don’t race to the end without stopping to appreciate the passing of each one, the beginning of the next one, and where you are right now.

Perseverance requires patience. It requires stamina. And it requires the ability to appreciate each step before we move on to the next one.

 

More brilliant advice:

“Don’t rush through the experiences and circumstances that have the most capacity to transform you.” Rob Bell.

Research is Empowering

Research has enhanced my life. It is fulfilling and empowering. I am a stronger person because of it. Since I left my marriage and dumped the kids (they’re in their twenties), I’ve found I have a zest for research.

The most energising form of research is the ‘follow your curiosity’ kind – the Big Magic kind extolled by Elizabeth Gilbert. That is, when you find a subject that interests you, investigate it, read about it, fall into the rabbit hole of the internet for it.

I’ve done this a lot for the writing of my novel, researching everything from Hindu cremations in India to nursing homes in Donegal, Ireland. However, it’s likely my enthrallment won’t equal my readers’, so not a great deal will make it to the story!

The value is in the knowledge I’ve gained, not how much I choose to share with the world. For research to be life-enhancing, it needs to be fascinating. And that’s all! It doesn’t need to serve a purpose. Although, often, it will.

Topical affairs such as gay marriage, live animal export or the Queensland Adani coal mine need to be researched, for us to have a rational, rather than emotional, opinion. It’s dangerous to only listen to the lobbyists, or political parties, news or social media. Research across the board, will, hopefully give us a balanced and purposeful view. Once we have a sound basis, there’s nothing wrong with throwing some emotion into it too. That makes us passionate and I’m all for that!

I’m ashamed to say that I’ve typically been a fence-sitter. I have undervalued my intellect and therefore deferred to others who I’ve had more faith in. I am also fearful of conflict, preferring to run away than argue. But research is making me stronger. I’m learning new things and forming opinions on the way. It’s liberating and gives me independence. Even if I’m still reluctant to share my view, at least I know what I think. This kind of research is empowering. And it’s relatively new to me.

I first read about this in a book called ‘Storycatcher.’ The author, Christina Baldwin, said: ‘Activism in one area of your life builds a sense of empowerment in all areas of your life; you are a more assertive citizen and so is your family and wider circle of friends, for you inspire each other into activism by giving each other hope.’

Case in point, the sixteen-year old Greta Thunberg from Sweden, who has sparked a worldwide movement of school children expressing their feelings about climate change. I hope that these children are inspired and encouraged to research the topic and form an opinion. It is an opportunity for them to learn, have a view and not be afraid to express it.

I was going to tell you about my research into banks and the one in which I’ve selected to open an account. But it seems too boring now. I’ll just say this: sometimes research is just plain necessary! But if it’s important, it can be fascinating. Researching banks has given me a knowledge I didn’t have. And I was able to make a sound decision. That is fulfilling! That is empowering. That has enhanced my life!

What have you researched that has made you stronger?

 

“I am woman, hear me roar.” Helen Reddy.

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you’ll be criticised anyway.” Eleanor Roosevelt.