Posts written: 3 (shocking)
Writing elsewhere: 4
Books read: 3 (I think. I forgot to keep track)
Kitchen fires: 1
Jobs ended: 2
Jobs applied for: 3
Jobs not selected for: 1 (so far)
It's been a busy month of school closings and such. Today I'm busily scrambling to get my ducks in order (eggs in a row? What is the expression I'm looking for?) because tomorrow begins a month of Gamel-ing. I've got 15 chapters planned, and hope to get all 15 at least roughly written by the end of July. I was going to officially join a Camp NaNoWriMo cabin and go for the whole experience, but I know myself enough to know I'd get caught up in the record keeping and all the extras going on that the actual writing would be overshadowed. So instead, I will post regular updates here - for accountability purposes, but also, hopefully, for feedback.
Here's the seed for the story I'll be working on: Gamel.
solitude + inspiration
30 June 2015
23 June 2015
Of heads bursting and camping
I may have shared this already. I've just come across it again in a shockingly unorganized bundle of notes written on random scraps of paper and schtuffed in a notebook.
The book it came from is, "Letter to a future lover: marginalia, irrata, secrets, inscriptions & other ephemera found in libraries." by Ander Monson.
The quote is this:
"Who burst your head wide open with a sentence? Whose linguistic tics have you ingested?"
Don't you love that? I do. I love both questions. I love that a gifted writer has the ability to burst open the head of a reader. I've had that happen. The sentence starts soft and malleable in my mind, then expands as I examine it from all sides and delight in its construction, its sounds, the imagery, the feeling of it.
Years and years ago I read "Away" by Jane Urquhart. I don't remember all that much about the plot, but I remember pausing to savour phrases and being in awe that someone could put words together in just that way.
Years after that I discovered Adriana Trigiani who, while writing more lighthearted novels than Urquhart, has the wonderful gift of painting a scene, infusing the story with humour, and portraying complex characters. She delights in, and plays with words - a talent I enjoy in writers.
A few years ago I read "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" by Mary Ann Schaffer and Annie Barrows. The book as a whole moved me, not for specific phrasing but for the way plot, character, and emotion were conveyed entirely through letters written between the characters. The skill required to create fully realized characters and ensure the reader is fully invested in the story using such a format is prodigious. That blows my head open.
More recently there has been Marisa de los Santos and her book, "The Precious one". Her turns of phrase would leave me giddy... I truly became drunk on her words.
And so, thinking of my own writing, I discover I have a kernel of determination to begin serious work on my own story. I've played with several ideas over the past year and more, but while they intrigued me, are not true to me so I was utterly defeated by them. I have instead surrendered to the snippet I began quite a long time ago, called Gamel, about a little man who lives in the woods. I have been working on ideas to develop it further, and am also trying to work ahead on the other writerly obligations I have to complete so I can take all of July off in order to spend time with Gamel. I'm going to try Camp NaNoWriMo, and see if that helps or hinders the process.
I'll try to post updates periodically through the month. Wish me luck!
The book it came from is, "Letter to a future lover: marginalia, irrata, secrets, inscriptions & other ephemera found in libraries." by Ander Monson.
The quote is this:
"Who burst your head wide open with a sentence? Whose linguistic tics have you ingested?"
Don't you love that? I do. I love both questions. I love that a gifted writer has the ability to burst open the head of a reader. I've had that happen. The sentence starts soft and malleable in my mind, then expands as I examine it from all sides and delight in its construction, its sounds, the imagery, the feeling of it.
Years and years ago I read "Away" by Jane Urquhart. I don't remember all that much about the plot, but I remember pausing to savour phrases and being in awe that someone could put words together in just that way.
Years after that I discovered Adriana Trigiani who, while writing more lighthearted novels than Urquhart, has the wonderful gift of painting a scene, infusing the story with humour, and portraying complex characters. She delights in, and plays with words - a talent I enjoy in writers.
A few years ago I read "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" by Mary Ann Schaffer and Annie Barrows. The book as a whole moved me, not for specific phrasing but for the way plot, character, and emotion were conveyed entirely through letters written between the characters. The skill required to create fully realized characters and ensure the reader is fully invested in the story using such a format is prodigious. That blows my head open.
More recently there has been Marisa de los Santos and her book, "The Precious one". Her turns of phrase would leave me giddy... I truly became drunk on her words.
And so, thinking of my own writing, I discover I have a kernel of determination to begin serious work on my own story. I've played with several ideas over the past year and more, but while they intrigued me, are not true to me so I was utterly defeated by them. I have instead surrendered to the snippet I began quite a long time ago, called Gamel, about a little man who lives in the woods. I have been working on ideas to develop it further, and am also trying to work ahead on the other writerly obligations I have to complete so I can take all of July off in order to spend time with Gamel. I'm going to try Camp NaNoWriMo, and see if that helps or hinders the process.
I'll try to post updates periodically through the month. Wish me luck!
15 June 2015
Where silence reigns
There is a frequently chattering voice in
my head. It is a voice of lists and fears and worries. It speaks of insecurity
and falling short, and tempts me to want what I do not need – or even truly want. A dull background murmur of daily life floats on the surface of my consciousness, distracting me from quiet and contemplation and peace.
But deep in my heart, the part of me bearing the
fingerprint of God from when He thought of me and called me into being – that is
where my silence reigns.
It is the silence of deep water; not empty
but full of life and so vast as to be incomprehensible. It is the substance of that
which tethers me to God. Within that silence I know who I am and where I belong; I am sustained.
03 June 2015
Accountability: May
Month in review.
Posts at the Lighthouse: 6
Elsewhere: 4
Days of completing 10 minute challenge (writing for 10 minutes without stopping): 3
Books read: 9
New authors tried and loved instantly: 1
Not bad. Not brilliant, but not bad.
Posts at the Lighthouse: 6
Elsewhere: 4
Days of completing 10 minute challenge (writing for 10 minutes without stopping): 3
Books read: 9
New authors tried and loved instantly: 1
Not bad. Not brilliant, but not bad.
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