pushing the limits

by Anna Maria Hansen


I'm standing right on the outskirts of insanity, two days away from total madness. I both dread and look forward to it -- a challenge, a battle, a I-can-do-this moment.

50,000 words. 30 days.

NaNoWriMo.

Yikes.

I first participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) four years ago. I thought it was crazy. Madness. But my sister (who'd already done it once) pushed me to try... and I (reluctantly) did. To my surprise, I made it. I not only made it -- I enjoyed it. After that, I completed two more NaNos for a total of three successful challenges. Last year was the first time I didn't do NaNo because I was struggling with trying to figure out how to make a living and write at the same time. Not sure I've worked that one out yet... but there's writing to be done and I can't wait around for the math to compute.

It's not easy. It's one-half inch short of impossible. What I like about it, is it's me pushing the limits -- forcing myself to do something hard... and having no one to answer to (or blame) but myself if I fail. And even if I don't make the 50,000 -- that's ok. I will have written. I will have forced myself to create. I will have tried.

My best writing is found right here. On the edge of my comfort zone. On the brink of impossible. Where the speed limit changes and the scenery starts to look different...

in the company of greatness

by Karen Dums


Meeting someone you've only seen on a book jacket or web page is a peculiar feeling. They suddenly become real. Not a list of education, accolades or accomplishments printed on a page. Not a number of books published, a doctorate earned, a face seen on the television screen. A hand shake reveals they are just people. People like you or me.

Last Thursday, Oct. 17, Wisconsin author/historian Jerry Apps paid a visit to Third Story Writers Guild. He then did a presentation in the auditorium of the Park Falls Public Library. He is "real people" indeed.

He stood behind the podium with the ease of one who has been in that position many times, and with humor and honesty told of his days as a farm boy. Of his attendance at one-room school. Shared the story of his affliction with polio, more than 50 years past now, but a time that haunted him in all the years since. It changed the course of life, whether he knew it at the time or not.

With his editor's urging he did what writers do with the leftover feelings from that affliction. He wrote a book about the experience. Told the world of the pain and suffering of a disease with no known prevention, or even an abatement for the pain back in those days. He talked of it freely. Spoke of his fears and the accompanying feelings of failure. Fear of admitting he'd even been stricken with the disease, convinced people would think less of him if they knew. Failure because he was unable to perform the physical tasks his contemporaries could. Tasks expected of him in that time and place. Gave credit to those who helped him most during that time -- his father, who was his "physical therapist" in  unique ways; his eighth-grade teacher, who helped him pass the dreaded test that would ensure his entrance into high school; the baseball/coach/basketball coach/forensics coach/drama coach/algebra teacher/geometry teacher (in small schools such as Wild Rose, Wisconsin's circa 1947, staff members wore many hats.) a dragon slain. "Limping Through Life" has been out for several months and we now know that without that dreadful disease, it is most likely Jerry Apps, the author/historian, would not exist. For him a negative became a positive. Wisconsin history is the better for it. Readers have much to enjoy because of it.

No one who has gone through a debilitating time would wish for it so that it could become fodder for the pen. But in so many instances, as in Mr. Apps case, it becomes just that. And we never think that in helping us, it might help others too.

Kudos to the man who overcame his personal fears to become an advocate for polio sufferers. Thank goodness he had the wherewithal to pursue a vocation that helped increase the manner in which he can pursue that advocacy.

It was good to meet him. To see he's just regular people. Regular people like you, like me.  We've all suffered through something. What good might we take from it? Make of it? Food for though.

in a rural frame of mind

What with author/historian Jerry Apps coming to talk with Guild members, then give a public presentation; plus an email from an NPR (National Public Radio) employee inviting the Guild to take part in a new venture, our numbers are, for the forseeable future anyway, steeped in rural aspects.

That raised questions:

What drew Mr. Apps to give "little histories" a voice?

We're hoping to hear that answer on Thursday evening.

What draws Guild members to live where we do?

That sparked conversation at this evening's meeting. Park Falls. Glidden. Butternut. Springstead. Fifield. All map dots - some smaller than others. And yet...There is a special freedom born from living in smaller places. A freedom to be what we want, how we want, when we want. We tend to be stubborn. We tend to be more self-sufficient than our city-dwelling counterparts. We tend to find true appreciation in the small. We're proud of our rural roots and aren't afraid to let it be known!  Whether we stay for love of place, love of person, love of quiet, love of solitude -- we actively choose to stay.

Do we miss out? On certain things of course. But as our youngest Guild member, Hailey, so aptly puts it -- "for us going to a bigger city can be a treat, a break in our routine; even if we're just going shopping at WalMart or Target, because its something we can't do every day."

What makes you bloom where you are planted? Do you ever give it a passing thought?  Think on it. You might be surprised at what you discover.

go deep

by Anna Maria Hansen


I sit on the front porch of my house, back nestled against the sun-warmed wooden siding. All around me, autumn light seeps... vibrant and many-hued. The smell, both sweet and tangy; a tiny ripple of wind brushing by. I roll a pencil back and forth between my fingers. I'm trying to catch this moment of time. Pin it down on a piece of paper.

For myself, I am never satisfied with just putting down the facts. I want to make it so others can feel it. I want to give them a single moment in my head. The colors of fall -- we've heard them all a thousand times. Red, orange, yellow. Gold, russet, cranberry. Burgundy, amber, tawny. I'm tired of lists of colors. I'm tired of descriptions of fall.

And yet, I love autumn. I love the way it feels. All bitter and sweet and regretful and beautiful in its brief and glorious passing. It's a scant moment, a flash of weeks that flood by too fast to get a hold of.

Sometimes, capturing certain things is very challenging. Not because it hasn't been done before, but rather, because it has been done so very many times it has become passe. And all at once, writing becomes a bit more work as you analyze the details, look closer that before, see things that are new. Be aware of what has been written before you. Take another look and see it with your eyes. No one else has ever seen autumn through your eyes. Watch. Think. Write.

Go deep, and the cliche can become new.

writer's block

by Karen Dums


All writers get it, or so I assume. That time of staring at a blank sheet of paper, or a blank computer screen. A few words are written, then scratched out with a pen, tearing holes in the paper. A few words are typed, then backspace takes a few hits, all are deleted. It leaves me to wonder...

Ideas are all about us, floating just above our reach, knocking at the doors of our consciousness. Or is there more that leads to the blank page? Are we fearful? Who will find our words worth reading? Are we lazy? I just don't have time. Maybe we truly don't have time...or think we can't make it.

A few weeks back I threw out a prompt "what is the greatest invention ever created?" It didn't even have to be a REAL invention. Writers could use their imaginations freely. Guild member Linda Rybak came up with an interesting invention. A time bank. Her premise was that we could take back all the time we've wasted through the years and be given new time to spend in more satisfactory ways. Maybe we could call it time laundering. Criminals do it with money and we're not criminals. Discussion ensued among Guild members carrying her idea further.  What if it was like an actual bank account. There we deposit money, withdrawing it when needed. So too with time. Time could be deposited, withdrawn when needed. That made perfect sense to me! Guild member Scott Schmidt took it even a step further. If it was a joint account could two people draw on it in an equitable fashion? A humorous meeting took place that evening. Bantering back and forth regarding time. But when put in a writer's life perspective what a wonderfully valid invention a time bank would be!

Most Third Story Writers Guild members cannot or do not write full time. We have pressures of work, family, life. Where to squeeze in those hours for unfettered writing? As is often said "somthing's gotta give." Too often for us its not the job or the kids or the volunteerism or the household duties, it's the writing. A time bank would indeed be wonderful. For none of the aforementioned should be neglected either.

This train of thought sparked an idea of my own. What if we cleared an evening from our calendars and spent the entire time writing? What if not just an evening but an entire night? Twelve hours of uninterrupted writing would be bliss. A write-athon. A write-in. Whatever name we put to it would suffice. We could spend it with our pen and paper or with our computer keyboard.

I've broached the subject to Guild members. Not much response yet. They may be thinking what will "give" is sleep. Too true. But what's one night if we can spend it getting our dream down on paper?
Could a few hours loss of sleep cure your "writer's block?" Let me know your thoughts, please.