Writing and journalism: remembering why

Last Thursday I had two great opportunities to recall some basics on creative writing and my first profession, journalism. In exchange for the use of our facilities at my workplace, the Port of Seattle,  we got a seat in a creative writing seminar series. I signed up for one on getting your novel started, and it happened to be led by Seattle author Robert Dugoni. He is a the author of a number of books  and legal thrillers including the David Sloane series. I have not read any of them yet — it’s not my genre — but intend to. He won some Pacific Northwest Writers Association literary awards which I’m sure helped along the way to publication, and I believe he created a very strong character in Sloane, so I can learn from Dugoni’s work.  

My novel is historical fiction, and I’m on my fourth revision. I don’t need help getting started, but I am never satisfied with that opening line, that opening paragraph, and wondering have I started my story in the right place. I made a big shift after the first draft, to start with the action. This is the recommendation from many writers conferences I’ve attended, and from Dugoni as well. One of the other participants said if the book is a mystery “I want blood and guts in the first paragraph.” Not so much from historical fiction, but you’ve still got to hook your reader.

Another of Dugoni’s recommendations was to make sure you create a question in the reader’s mind with the first paragraph, and really with every paragraph. That’s what makes them keep going. That’s how you create a page turner. Another conference presenter said it a different way: End your chapter in the middle, never at the “end.” It’s all to keep the reader eager to find out what happens next.

One of the no-nos Dugoni called out was the use of flashback. If you need to go back in time you’ve got to put the reader right in that time. Flashbacks stop the story. So, I’ve got a flashback in my third chapter and it is one of my “darlings” that I have to decide whether to delete. A couple of literary agents have told me they like my story but could not quite connect with (fall in love with) the protagonist. The scenes from the past are, I think, what make her endearing and make her who she is in the present time. I just have to be more crafty in how I get that information across. Some days writing is a blessing, and some days it is a pain in the ass!

That same evening I met a friend for dinner and we went to see “Page One,” the documentary about the New York Times. The premise is that print journalism is not dead, because that is where the online news sites get their content. Really — how many bloggers have been to Iraq? Most just comment on what someone else has researched and written, and there is no concern about balanced reporting or truth.

My friend and I both graduated from University of Florida’s journalism school, and we had some amazing instructors so after that the passion for journalism is in your blood. I never did investigative journalism, just daily news stories and my strength really was profiles and feature stories. But I fell in love with the NYT writers who are keeping the passion alive, fighting back against those who have no care for information but only for Lady  Gaga stories that they think bring in the bucks. They talked about the struggle of reporters and editors having to work for owners and leaders who do not share the same values. I know a bit about that. And David Carr, oh my gosh what a character and what a strong person. If you are a journalist, even at heart, you must see this movie and remember why we all do it.

It’s an interesting coincidence that both of these events ended up happening on the same day, and both of them touching that writer in me. I wanted to write since I was in first grade, but for most of my life told myself I couldn’t. My college roommate encouraged me to major in journalism and I will always be grateful for that, because writing has been the cornerstone for everything in my career. Dugoni and Page One remind me I can be proud of that. Success to me has never meant NYT best seller list, Oprah, or anything like that. I heard a long time ago that, if you tell your story and it reaches the heart of one person, you have succeeded.

I’ll finish the revision of my historical novel soon, and put it out there one way or another for that one reader. It’s called “The Wideness of the Sea,” and it’s about an Irish peasant girl who, in 1650, vows to avenge the destruction of her village by assassinating Oliver Cromwell, so keep an eye out in case that one reader is you.

Portraits of a Time

On January 1, 2011, I’m sure I was not the only one grumbling and struggling to put away the things of 2010, clear away unneeded things, and get clear spaces for the year ahead. A sticking point for me has been this big, clunky  plastic bin in my laundry room. It’s been in my way for over a year, my husband has complained about it, but every time I’ve tried to get rid of it I am stumped by the decision-making required, and quickly give up.

The bin mostly contains keepsakes and photos that belonged to my mother. She died in October 2006 at 89 years of age. I should say she lived a good long life and was loved. She absolutely was, but after all this time I still struggle with letting go, and particulary of pictures. Even duplicates — it feels like some kind of sacrilege to destroy them or throw them out, so back into the bin they go. One of the things I thought a lot about this time, though, was her portraits.

Portrait of my mother, Virginia

It seems odd to me that she frequently went to photographers’ studios and had portraits made of herself– the high-quality 8 x 10s like you’d have done for a graduation or wedding. She was a beautiful woman and we have several of them throughout her life — in fact my sister had one of them enlarged and framed for my Christmas present this year, one of the early ones probably from before she had kids.

But most people don’t have portraits made of themselves, do they? Families, yes, but self portraits? Usually you just go with whatever snapshots come out of family events or vacations. Why would she do that? I think now it is because she was a mother of the 1950s. In the 1940s, she was young and beautiful, she had left her family’s farm in Iowa to become a stenographer for a senator in Washington D.C. She wore classy suits and stylish hats, three-inch heels and silk stockings. She was popular in her group of friends and during the war years married a USO performer. When the marriage failed she moved to Miami, got a divorce, and was soon pursued by my father, a determined, up-and-coming businessman who was tall, dark and handsome. They married, and she must have been filled with excitement for what her life would become. But instead of expanding, her life contracted.

In the 1950s, as we know, women married, had kids, and their public lives were over except where the kids were concerned. They began to disappear, in deference to their children and their husband’s career. I wonder, did my mother have those portraits made to remind herself that she did indeed exist, that her beauty endured, that she had value inspite of what her life had become?

Women have come so far since my mother’s life, and I am so grateful to our tenacious warriors who made that happen, and I am horrified by women who say they want to be a stay-at-home mom while their husbands are the breadwinners. Are they crazy? Don’t they remember? No, they do not. But in many cases, it turns out the opposite: More men are staying at home to handle the childcare while the women pursue their careers.

I’m far afield now of where I probably need to go with this post, and that is my own ability as an adult child of a stay-at-home mom, to release her to what is next for her, to release myself from the pieces of paper that bear her image. I’ll keep the best of the portraits, hold her dear in my memory, understand her more more clearly, but try not be encumbered by the struggles of her past.

Oh, and, get rid of the bin. I did manage to toss some stuff — now I just have a smaller bin!

2010 in review

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads This blog is doing awesome!.

Crunchy numbers

The Leaning Tower of Pisa has 296 steps to reach the top. This blog was viewed about 1,000 times in 2010. If those were steps, it would have climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa 3 times

In 2010, there were 17 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 52 posts. There were 34 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 9mb. That’s about 3 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was October 30th with 38 views. The most popular post that day was Four Queens Favorites.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were mail.yahoo.com, sz0133.wc.mail.comcast.net, facebook.com, student-loan-consilidation.com, and mail.live.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for dublin, dublin map, cool maps, cool map, and map of dublin.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

Four Queens Favorites October 2010

2

About this blog June 2007

3

Queens don’t stand in line October 2010
2 comments

4

Queens ride in style October 2010
3 comments

5

Last Day October 2010
1 comment

THANKS EVERYBODY — For reading this blog, following the Four Queens tour in Italy, and for your comments. We’re not sure what the Queens will do next, but keep us bookmarked. It’s bound to be fun!

–Nancy

HNS San Diego

The Historical Novel Society has announced its 2011 conference. It will be in San Diego, June 17-19. I am thinking about attending, but if not this year, definitely next year when it will be back in England.

I enjoyed the 2009 conference in Chicago — the presentations were interesting, speakers good, and I definitely learned a few things. I got to hear Margaret George, one of my favorites. But, I came away disappointed because I had a rather negative meeting with a literary agent. And then I let my membership lapse.

What I like about the idea of going to the San Diego conference is that it sets a deadline. I have been telling myself I will return to that novel and give it one more revision before I call it quits and move on. I swore I would start in January, and already my mind is starting to whine: It’s so much work! Yep, the joy of writing the novel is imagining it, researching it, and then having the startling discovery when you realize how all the threads will come together and you will actually be able to finish the story in a way that pleases you greatly! Revision after revision is pure drudgery, and God only knows I have enough of that for a full-time job. Sometimes it is hard to face the computer screen for nights and weekends too.

But, I do still love and believe in my story. So, perseverence it is.

If I am able to go to the San Diego conference, I hope to make some new friends there. Note to conference organizers: It is lovely to receive free books but very hard for travelers to manage more than a couple.

Here’s the link: http://www.hns-conference.org

Why shopping is essential while traveling

This may sound to some like a simple justification for one of my favorite addictions, and to some extent that would be true, but let me tell you the true value of shopping while traveling. The case in point comes from extensive research last month in Italy. Oh yes, it was over a month ago that we arrived in Rome — already it seems like ages!

In this picture you see two hand-painted ceramic plates I bought in Orvieto, in Tuscany. We visited Orvieto because it was known for ceramics, but we got much more out of the trip than shopping. The drive there from our townhouse in Cetona was fun in itself, and Orvieto is so very beautiful, from the tree-lined parking lot to the welcoming cafes, the narrow streets that wind upward, the breathtaking views down the hillside and across the valley, and of course the little shops everywhere with their wares hung out on the doors to draw customers inside.

I bought these plates thinking the colors would work well in my kitchen (they do) and I already had a wrought iron display rack for them. Now, every morning at 5:00 when I come upstairs to make coffee, I see these plates and admire them. I really like them just for what they are, but looking at them immediately transports me back to the little shop, and all the beautiful things to look at there. I see my sisters and Marilyn browsing and considering the many designs and colors. I see the shop lady trying to convince Marilyn that she needed the full set instead of just the one platter. I see the wooden doors and the window displays of the black-background plates that originally were my favorites. Then I see the shops acoss the street, the beautiful piazza just a few steps away with the gorgeous golden church, and the old castle wall where we could see how high our hilltop town sat above the green valley below.

As the result of all this I am calmed and a soft smile comes to my lips. I remember everything, and because I bought these painted plates, I begin my day not crunching on the tasks that lay ahead, but coasting on a memory.

The hillside at Orvieto

Though I expected to spend more, I really only spent about $400 on souvenirs and gifts to bring home. But I’m really happy about the time we all spent together shopping, and about every thing I bought. 

In Rome, Florence, and still some in Venice and Tuscany, my feet were killing me after a while we walked and shopped so much (addictions often cause pain), but I didn’t want to miss anything, and around every curve was something else to see. Taking some of it home with you is just human nature, but if you scoff at that I hope my, ahem, selfless research can shift your thinking. Shopping really does, in fact, help make the experience last. And when you remember, even with all that lovely detail, your feet don’t hurt at all!

About that chandelier…

Blue as the Venetian waters, but not so beautiful

 In honor of Halloween I’m going to write about a scary piece of glass. A few posts back I mentioned that I couldn’t wait to show readers the chandelier from our hotel room in Venice.  Queen of Cups Marilyn, my roommate, said if she could have changed anything in our room it would have been this. Though we were in a four-star rated hotel, the Hotel Bonvecchiati,  the room itself was shabby — I won’t delve into that too much since I’ve already covered it. But for me this chandelier has come to represent more than a lighting fixture, but our experience of Venice itself.  The sharp-eyed Queen of Cups fixed on it right away.

“Something is really wrong with that chandelier,” she said, while I fiddled around in my suitcase, still fuming after my, er, “off with your head” discussion with the hotel clerk downstairs. “When you get done, come here and let’s talk about what’s wrong with it.”

The chandelier was a light turquoise blue, and though we had not seen Venice in daylight yet, I would say it resembled the color of the water we saw as we crossed it from Venice proper to the island of Murano. In fact, the chandelier was probably Murano glass but not particularly fine, so it could have been a plastic copy from Target for all I knew. From her vantage point, the problem with this chandelier was immediately clear to me: It was crooked.

“But why is it crooked?” she asked, her voice carrying the edge of frustration.

“Well, there are two leaves sprouting off to one side, and they are missing from the other side. Probably got broken off at some point.”

She seemed satisfied with that explanation, but still a step beyond mildly irritated over it. We expected better, and frankly had paid for it.  But that’s the thing about Venice: It is beautiful to look at, but don’t look too close, and be sure to bring money.

In time I’m sure I will forget most of things I thought about that hotel, but will still get very tickled about Marilyn’s fixation on that chandelier.  

“My husband would not be surprised,” she said.

Finding Florence

Sitting area outside our room at Monna Lisa

In this latest installment following up on the Four Queens Tour of Italy (remember — we are women queens, and women were queens way before men!) I show you some of our pix from Florence. Our arrival at our hotel was just as I had hoped. We’d been booked at a different hotel, and when researching it online I found several negative comments about it on TripAdvisor, so I came across a different hotel, four star, that luckily was also listed as an option on our AAA excursion that we had already booked.

The Hotel Monna Lisa had been a convent later converted to a palace and then a family owned hotel. Comments on TripAdvisor said the place was lovely, but the front desk lady was not friendly or helpful and was to be avoided. Well, we knew all about Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi, so we were not deterred and I’m so glad. The place was the best of all our accommodations. We did feel some pressure to be quiet — a holdover from convent days — but we felt very regal there (as we should, of course) and the hotel in itself was an historic site worthy of exploration. We particularly loved the Monna Lisa room, filled with pictures of Mona Lisa in various altered states (naked, smoking a hookah, etc…)

Road from the hotel to the Duomo

Just a few blocks away, and a wonderful walk to get there, was the majestic Duomo. You have to be there to really experience the size and grandeur of this cathedral, and the inside is equal in its breathtaking beauty. You cannot stand directly under the dome, but if you are up for it you can climb the hundreds of steps (after standing in line) to get to the top of the dome and the walkway around the inside.

The Duomo: you have to be there

It would be great to see the art that way, but we opted instead to visit the archeological site beneath, which was very interesting. The tomb of the dome’s famous architect Brunnelleschi is there, and also, wait for it: a gift shop!

The four queens Gayle, Marilyn, Nancy and Daphne love their pasta in Florence

We found a restaurant on the corner near our street to get back to the hotel, and it was, I think, our favorite dinner of the whole trip. And as I may have mentioned earlier, Florence had THE BEST gelato.

Our Charming Knight

During our progress in Italy, each evening one of us would pull a Tarot card from the deck to see what kind of read we would get — “just for fun,” as my mother would have said. We were all surprised that repeatedly, no matter who was drawing the card, we would get the Knight of Wands! I knew this card represented adventure, and I thought he was our reminder to have fun and go with the flow, as well as our escort! But I’m no expert on Tarot so now that we’re home I decided to check into it a bit further.

My friend Michele Morgan, author of “A Magical Course in Tarot,” says our knight is the adventurer: Couragous and valiant, he plays with risk as if at a game and charges into the unknown with the bearing and confidence of a warrior. Often unpredictable, his competitive, restless nature drives him to seek action and change. He is the first to face down the dragon, storm the battlements to rescue the maiden fair, or carry the flag of his kindom into uncharted lands. To his friends and loved ones he is a champion, loyal and passionate; to those unaccustomed to or threatened by his fire, he can appear arrogant or self-serving. This Prince will undoubtedly infuse your life with enthusiasm and ambition, possibly inciting you to a change of residence or career.”

I think we definitely carried our flag into some uncharted territory, at least for our group, so I can’t imagine a better companion, guide and protector for our trip. Thanks, dude!

Four Queens Favorites

Okay, I promised to upload a gallery of photos when I was back to Internet civilization. Due to severe jetlag I could not face my computer too much, so forgive the delay. Also, going through our photos there are SO MANY that I dearly love, choosing was terribly difficult. I started with this one taken by Marilyn when I bought a purple hat in Pienza. Purple in Pienze (oh dear). Well, I think I look just like Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, don’t you?

Okay, well, whatever. Another favorite is the four of us at dinner in Rome. It was a lovely place on the sidewalk that appealed to us, and though the proprietor seemed to be Middle Eastern and not Italian, we enjoyed our meal and he was very attentive to our needs.

In Rome we took a couple of tours, one being a walking tour of the ancient sites. Here’s Marilyn clowning along the way.

We learned that those pock marks in the ancient Roman columns are where marble was attached to the sides. I always thought they were just stone — or solid marble — but no, the Romans had it together in their construction practices and things were built to last.

In Rome, we spent some time on the rooftop of our hotel. This shot just says a lot about Rome — the domes and towers all jumbled in there with the apartments and satellite dishes.

Also in Rome I loved the Piazza Navona, where artists would fill the space with their crafts and paintings and try to sell to the tourists. A beautiful fountain graces the center but I loved the way it was a center of life, but for those of us with aching feet there were so few benches, just big, open space. No wonder the Italians are not all fat with pasta and gelato — they are always walking and never get to sit down!

After Rome there was  Florence, beautiful Florence, and many more favorites to show you, but I’ll pick that up with another post tomorrow. This queen needs her beauty sleep!

Last Day

(Composed on the train from Cetona To Rome, 10/14)

Morning in our Cetona townhouse

The queens have mixed feelings today, as you might expect. We have been away from home two weeks now, and inspite of all the conveniences we do have we are missing the ones we don’t, and missing our own beds, not to mention our loved ones. I write this as we travel south on the train to Roma Termini — the train terminal where we will take a taxi to the airport Hilton in Rome for our last night (because I have an early flight out). We had a nice lunch of crackers, ham and cheese sandwiches and tomato and mozzarella sandwiches, followed by a little Italian chocolate, and now three of the queens are snoozing during the last 45 minutes of the ride.

Daphne, Marilyn & Gayle enjoy cappuccino in Pienza cafe

I look out the window at the gorgeous view, and then the train ducks into a tunnel and our ears pressurize and pop, then just as quickly we’re in the sun again.

The drive to the Chuisi train station drove me crazy. We followed the signs as we have always done since we arrived in Italy — most of the time successfully — but wound up in the old part of town with no sign of the train station. So, we tried again and ended up the same place. Then we tried a roundabout route by the lake and again wound up in the same place, no train station. Yours truly was quite frustrated by this time — we parked, and Marilyn and Daphne found and information office and got a map and instructions to finally get us there. Queen of Swords Daphne says we in America are spoonfed — it’s Life for Dummies — in that the information provided to us from signage of all kinds leads us to expect and demand the same kind and quanitity of information elsewhere.I had followed the sign to Chiusi, but there was no follow-up sign and no directions thereafter. Same at the train station. Our ticket is very specific, Train 585, Track 4, Car 2, seats 81 – 84. But the sign by the train had no satisfying “585″ next to it; none of the train cars have numbers on them; the seats are numbered but not as you’d expect.  It is the lack of clear information that, more than anything else (such as lack of phone support and internet) could deter me from wanting to return.

Last cappuccino, B&B in Cetona: Daphne, Nancy, Marilyn

But, on the ride into Chuisi we did discuss what we might want to do if we came back. In Venice, for example, we had so little time we could only explore on our own a little, did not have time for a professionally-led tour, and did not get the interesting history and stories that could have enriched our visit. In Rome, we would have liked to visit Hadrian’s Villa, Antica Ottica, and Pompeii. We did not have time to visit Siena or the areas around that portion of Tuscany — Pisa, Cinque Terra, and several other places. And, there is Milan and the areas to the northwest that might be interesting.

As our train nears Roma Termini, we have mixed feelings. We can’t wait to return home, but probably will always wonder about the places we had to miss. We are tired and in particulary I am weary of the frustrations, but will miss the lovely cappuccinos and the beautiful narrow streets down to the shops and museums.

View from beautiful Pienza

We miss our husbands and families. And clean towels! I think, nearing the end of the trip, perhaps my focus is tainted and I seem a bit negative about our experience. But I know all the negatives slip away when we relive what we have experienced here, and it has been unforgettable.