So I opened my laptop this morning and found that the battery was nearly dead. The power cord wasn’t in its usual spot and as I started looking for it I realized, with a sinking feeling, that I must have left it at my mom’s house over the weekend—three hours away.
While I was trying to work out how to replace it before a client call, my phone died.
The dedication in my memoir reads: to my mother, and to all single mothers, who are doing the very best they can.
In my book I wrote, in part, about the challenges I faced going through an unexpected divorce and how many of those experiences helped me appreciate what my own mother went through as a single mom.
Last week, I wrote about how ‘Keeping it Real’ can be hurting your writing. I shared the reminder that if our goal as writers is to create dramatic action (and of course that’s the goal!) then we need to remember that fiction is not reality. It’s concentrated, intensified reality.
I told the story of my humiliating attempt, at age nine, to jump off the high dive at the local pool. Both that story and the idea of turning real-life events into fiction elicited some great responses that are too good not to pass on.
I heard the word “springboard” the other day and it made me flashback to the summer I was nine years old and went off the high dive for the first time at the community pool.
Except that I didn’t. What really happened was pure humiliation: I climbed the long ladder for what felt like ages, shuffled to the edge of the diving board, looked down, and froze. Uh-uh. There was no way I was jumping. With shaking knees, I backed up and started down the ladder, which was a slow process because I had to wait for all the kids behind me to back up too. And then I went home.
As I sit at my desk in Chicago, it seems surreal that less than twenty-four hours ago I was on a Florida beach with a rainbow stretched over my head. Actually, it was the second rainbow to grace me in three days, but when it comes to rainbows, you don’t count them, you simply stop what you’re doing and stare.
A rainbow moment is a right-brain moment, a burst of color and creativity from a higher realm.
I was standing at my kitchen sink this morning, washing dishes and looking at an affirmation card I have stuck on my refrigerator that says the givingness of life never leaves me. It got me thinking.
First, I wondered, is “givingness” even a word? I looked it up and yes, it is, except in the Scrabble dictionary. I’m not sure what the Hasbro company has against givingness, but the more I focus on it, the happier I feel.
I attended the Chicago Writers’ Association conference last weekend and, after two full days of workshops and socializing, I collapsed in exhaustion, both inspired and discouraged by all I learned.
Do you know the feeling I mean? Or, rather, feelings, because it was a stew of both excitement and self-doubt, bubbling between I can, I might, I will… and I could, I would, I should…
If you and I are connected on Facebook, you may have seen the post about my recent book signing at the Barnes & Noble in my hometown of Holland, Michigan. I shared a photo of the friends and family who came out and wrote, “You know that feeling you get when you bare it all in a memoir and your family not only still speaks to you, but applauds you…? Yeah, that.”
Today I feel like writing about mistakes. Heck, I’m even open to making some. Not that I haven’t already made my fair share. From the workplace to the home front, as a parent, wife, or friend, my mistakes sometimes include big life moments and, other times, small sweaty details.
What’s the secret to writing a scene that works? You may not know how to name it, but you certainly know when you read something that’s just meh, so-so. What’s missing? And what would it take to fix it? You might think good writing requires a mysterious balance of action, dialogue, setting, symbolism, and so on, and those things are all important. But there’s one fundamental ingredient that trumps all the craft in the world.
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions