in pursuit of the small

by Anna Maria Hansen

It was tiny.

A mouse's paw-print in the snow. I almost missed it in pursuit of the big deer I was trying to photograph.

I followed the miniscule tracks through the snowy forest, moving slowly, eyes trained downward. Kneeling in the snow, feeling cold melt into the knees of my jeans, I looked for the imprint of a paw, the shallow scuff of a tail.

Imagining how the forest must look to this creature, whose scurrying prints had led me to its frost-dusted doorstep. Trying to think what it saw, what the cold felt like to it, where it was now, and why it had gone this way.

Later that day, I was perched on my chair, working away at my NaNo-novel-in-the-making. I saw a cluster of words that stood out, like a shallow footprint on my story.

It was tiny.

I kept reading, kept following the footprints through the words. They were subtle, almost invisible. So quietly they had come into my story I hadn't realized they were there. Now, I followed them. The more I followed the track, the deeper, the clearer, it became.

Until I stood on the doorstep of understanding. Of realizing how this tiny footprint was going to drive the entire story. How it had already left its tracks, and all I needed to do was sharpen them, deepen their impression on the surface of my story.

They were the most important part of the story.

They were tiny.

I almost missed them in pursuit of the "bigger story" I was trying to write. In pursuit of what I thought my story was about. Now I know to lean down, to look closer. To stop. Listen.

Search for the tiny tracks. They'll lead you to the doorstep of the story.

Being discovered...sort of

By Karen Dums

When Third Story Writers Guild's email inbox contained a message from a woman who works on projects for NPR (National Public Radio) we were ecstatic little writers. We had been discovered!!! Of course all one need do to "discover" us is to use the proper key word, such as Wisconsin writers, Wisconsin writers groups, to name but two and voila' our website will appear, contact information included. So maybe its not such a big deal.

Or maybe it is.

Not all of our members chose to work on the NPR project, but several of us did. This is something different, something larger than we're used to. Our work will appear on a national multi-media website with the possibility of "hits" by folks all across the country and beyond. Scary? Yes. Worthwhile? Definitely.

Unless its a very personal journal or diary most writers write to gain an audience. We want others to read what we've written. To that end we practice our craft in small ways at first, then put ourselves in another position. We step out of our comfort zone in search of something bigger.

Most writers I know have little faith in their work. Arrogance may belong to the likes of Ernest Hemingway for instance, but the burgeoning author is a mass of nerves, a jangle of whatifwhatifwhatif, certainly lacking in self-esteem. Our own worst critics.

Enter the writers group, or critique group -- whatever name you ascribe to it goes to the heart of the matter with the same end. Feedback. Then it grows from feedback to sharing of information. I went to this conference and have this information to share...There is an author who is willing to visit with us and give us tips on...I found this website, this writing contest, this possibility...

Possibility.

The NPR project is a possibility for all of us. A possibility that someone may notice one of us folks who meet in this big library in this little town. Some of whom have spent years honing a craft they were not quite sure how they were ever going to put to use. State of the Reunion, as the project is called, is a possibility for true discovery. Not because someone typed keywords into Google, but on each individual writer's work. On that writings own merit.


Ego-boosting or ego-blasting we're ready for. If there's one thing I've learned on this writers wroad (I so enjoy doing that) its to grow a thick skin. We may have to undergo setbacks, I refuse to call them failures, on our journey to publication. But we must persist. Look at the 14 of us who comprise Third Story Writers Guild. We're growing. We're evolving. We're spreading our wings. We're reaching for the stars.

May we shine.

Tickling the funny bone

By Karen Dums

This evening's group brought an interesting mix of discussion on humor. Sometimes we authors can get so serious with ourselves and with our writing that we forget to add a little humor to the mix. It often makes the whole piece that much sweeter.

We have several Guild members who do humor very well. And one in particular who has been refraining from using a natural talent for it. She's not quite sure why. I'm not sure either, but I say "follow the muse".

Its been my personal experience that we cannot fight off the muse, no matter how hard we try. It will dog us until we pick up pen and paper or sit down at the keyboard and get what is brewing in our creative consciousness down on paper, a hard drive, a thumb drive or a flash drive -- take your pick.  It needs to get out. If it doesn't something dire is bound to happen -- you'll get speeding ticket because you're not concentrating on your driving, the food in your refrigerator will begin to grow green moldy substances because you're not concentrating on your refrigerator maintenance, you'll be unable to get out of the house because you locked the shovel in the trunk of your car which is in the locked garage and there is a three-foot snow drift in front of every entry door. Your head could also implode.

The aforementioned, or even worse, are what awaits if writers attempt to block the wonderfully natural flow of the creative juices. There is no dam strong enough to keep them back. Save your energy. Don't fight it. Let it carry you to beautiful places where you will meet interesting, engaging people. These are known as your sense of place and your characters. They'll do the rest if you let them. And if they're funny -- well, can't we all use a good laugh now and again?

Am I hinting that writing is easy? Definitely not. It takes discipline, courage, fortitude, imagination, attention to detail and lots of paper. But if you've been bitten by the writing bug a simple scratch will not do. The itch will continue. Let it go. Let it be. Let it take you along for the ride. Use your natural fight for more important things, like getting the best buys on Black Friday.

"A man walks into a bar. Can I have a glass of water? he asks the bartender. The bartender grabs the shotgun from the back shelf and fires it. The man says thank you and leaves. What happened?"

The bartender cured his hiccups. Well, maybe that one isn't so funny, but hopefully you get the drift.
Write what you must.

A funny thing happened on the way to writers guild

by Karen Dums

 

Monday night. 5:30 p.m. I ride the elevator up to the third floor of the library. Surprisingly, the board room, where Guild meetings are held, is empty and dark. I deflate like an old balloon, turn on the lights and take a seat.

The ideas rolling around inside my head the entire day have disappeared. I'm sitting at the table. Alone. And I've got nothing.

Gradually members trickle in. One. Two. Three. Conversation ensues.  Time for me to fulfill my role as facilitator. Take charge. Isn't that part of my job? It is November. NaNoWriMo, NaNo for short, National Novel Writing Month for long. We're all writers, we all know what month it is.

Have you ever had your wisdom teeth pulled?

Have you ever had an abscessed tooth?

Have you ever written about either one?

There is fodder for the pen everywhere. We can take a horrible experience (see above) and make it humorous. Or we can take a humorous experience and make it serious. Depends on the frame of mind.

Tonight my frame was fractured as a broken bone -- the website, this blog, our group and how we can promote ourselves; what author will we get to visit next, where will funding come from; my own work, there's much on my plate, not all to do with writing but I must work that in. I must. Someone pushed a stick into the gerbil's exercise wheel. SCREECH!

"I was pulled out of formation and sent to the dentist's office to have my wisdom teeth pulled."  Wow. That's nasty, but good, he survived and could use that experience down the road.

Suddenly I was pulled out of formation. By simple conversation. The result? I relaxed around the table with my fellow writers and achieved a less fragmented mind. Gerbil wheel in motion again, at a much more suitable pace.

Sometimes we need not pick up a pen or attack a keyboard to accomplish a great deal. Thank you to my fellow writers/friends for the renewal and the respite. But now it's time to get back to work. Back to work with a much clearer head.