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.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
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...
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...
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, October 14, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
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.
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.
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