To See Again: About Revision

May 15, 2012

Journalist, nonfiction writer, and author of On Writing Well, William Zinsser says, “Rewriting is the essence of writing well—where the game is won or lost.” It’s one thing to know this and another to find myself mired in the process of revision, just wanting to be done.

I have a friend who believes that good prose and poetry arrives through literary artists fully formed without need of alteration. It’s a rare happening for the muse to deliver finished works. More likely we receive mere images and ideas and ghosts of the whole. It’s all up to us to take it to the end with good proofreading, editing, and revision.

I was fortunate to receive a Lake Region Arts Council grant that included funds for a professional critique of 10 poems. I sent off some of my best work. A few had been published, a few were just completed, and many were drafts not going anywhere. The comments came back on January 23. Three months later, I’m still working to eliminate the cliché, abstraction, dead metaphor, sentimentality and to find fresh language, charged verbs, and musicality.

Yes, I was embarrassed. How could I have missed so many basics? Worse though, was finding out that with some poems, I hadn’t even done a good job of conveying my message. Editing and rephrasing wouldn’t make any difference with this issue. I needed to look at my work with a fresh perspective. I had to rethink, reconsider, review, refine, reorganize, and revive each image.

This stuff is hard work. If you have held a finished piece of prose or poetry only to find out your audience “doesn’t get it,” then you know how hard it is to go back to your writing space to sink into the revision process. For inspiration I had printed and taped to my monitor screen a Bernard Malamud quote: “Revision is one of the exquisite pleasures of writing.” Sometime during week two, it went straight to the wastebasket. I recall the motions accompanied with unpleasant sounds.

As I struggled with the true meaning of one poem—receiving different interpretations from different readers—it finally achieved perfection on revision No. 15. Or so I thought. I went back to it a week later and worked on revisions 16, 17, and 18. It might be done now. I’ll check tomorrow! At number 17, I was pushed forward by thoughts of Mary Oliver. It’s been said that she usually revises through forty or fifty drafts of a poem before she begins to feel comfortable with it.

With an epiphany moment, I’ve become more comfortable with the process. By replacing the reviled word “revision” with the concept of RE VISION—seeing again—the work is just a natural part of getting the poem or prose ready for public debut.

In this Re Vision process, I have learned much:

  • First, to ask as I write, “What is this poem about? What do I want to convey to the reader?”
  • Second, when I think the poem is done, put it aside—give it space—for a week or two. Then go back and read it aloud as a first-time reader would. Live with it.
  • Third, accept the process. It’s like pruning the lilac bush. Once the dead wood, water sprouts, and suckers are gone the strong limbs and leaves will thrive.
  • Fourth, work toward the reward of bringing out the best of my literary talents and skills.

Malamud’s quotation has been replaced at the top of my monitor with this one from Naomi Shihab Nye, “Now I see revision as a beautiful word of hope. It’s a new vision of something. It means you don’t have to be perfect the first time. What a relief!”

Author’s Bio.: Sonja Kosler left corporate life and public service in North Dakota to retire to the lake near Maplewood State Park. She then started a second career in broadcast and print journalism. Since her second retirement, she has devoted time to writing. Sonja writes poetry and short stories and “notes to self.” Her work appears in regional anthologies and national publications. She has received several literary awards and Lake Region Arts Council and the Minnesota State Arts Board grants. Sonja lives with her husband, David, on East Silent Lake where she is inspired by natural beauty. She enjoys studying writing craft and encourages other writers.  Sonja is the LRWN Outreach Coordinator.

Catching Butterflies

April 24, 2012

Ideas are like butterflies. They flutter past us, often catching us off-guard with their brilliance and fragility. And, just as quickly as they float into our view, they are gone.

This revelation of ideas as butterflies was one of my favorite concepts I took away from a writing workshop I recently attended. The presenter explained how we each have a net we can use to capture these momentary inspirations before they flee.

As a writer, one of the most helpful things is my little red notebook I carry with me wherever I go. The moment something strikes me, I write it down. It might be the furrowed expression I witness on the face of a woman walking down my street, a line out of a book I’m reading, a snippet of the conversation a couple in the booth next to me is having, or the way sunlight is meandering its way through my backyard vegetable garden.

If something strikes you, write it down.

Here’s the part that is easy to overlook: Once these butterflies of inspiration have been safely secured in a notebook net, it takes a concentrated effort to return at a later time and savor the words written down. These fragments of ideas could very well serve as the inspiration for a poem, article, or blog post months after they were first jotted down.

Allow the beauty of an inspired moment that once resonated with your spirit do so again. Today, I plan on catching as many butterflies as I can.

Author’s Bio.: Heidi Kratzke is a freelance writer/photographer and co-owner of Creative Culture Media in Ottertail, MN. Her writing has been published in area magazines, newspapers, and literary journals. Heidi holds a weekly writing group in her home, in addition to facilitating a monthly community writing group. She recently released her first book, Unveiled: Writing prompts that reveal the heart of God. Heidi is currently serving as the secretary of the LRWN Board.

 

Reading a Poem/Reading the Screen

April 10, 2012

A few years ago I attended a poetry workshop conducted by poet, teacher, and editor T. R. Hummer. He proposed that we could think about poems as being four-dimensional, and he used four arrows to illustrate this point.

The first arrow moves from left to right (the poem as it travels across the page).  One word follows another to create a line, which–because of the selection and arrangement of words––and because of the length of the line––creates meaning––or begins to create meaning.

The second arrow moves from top to bottom–one line added to another line. As we read down the page, we begin to understand not only what the poem is about but also the structure of the poem, the use of rhythm, repetition, enjambment, stanza breaks.

The third arrow goes into the poem and represents the tradition of poetry. How does this poem connect to other poems, other poems by this poet, other poems with this theme, other poems written in this style? Every poem that we write connects to this tradition in some way. When we write a poem, we add to the body of poetry.

The fourth arrow comes out of the poem toward the reader and represents the persuasive power of the poem. How does the poem affect the reader? Do we believe the speaker? Do we believe the emotion? Do we believe in the honesty and authority of the poem?

I think the same method of analysis can be used with other works of art––film and video, for example. The screen, with its pictures and sounds, becomes the text.

First, examine the screen as a two dimensional image––the arrow (#1) that moves from left to right and the arrow (#2) that moves from top to bottom. What kind of shots, angles, lenses have been used? Why were these choices made? What do we see within the frame? What is outside the frame? How is what we are looking at being presented to us? What about the composition of the shot? Camera movement, subject movement, background movement? Is a character moving across the screen from left to right or right to left? Does this make a difference? What is in the foreground? What is in the background? What about the lighting? What do we see? How are we being manipulated?

Next, how does the selection and arrangement of the shots affect us and our understanding of the collection of visual images? We can discuss juxtaposition. We can discuss the juxtaposition of images that are not related and how placing them together creates a bond––and perhaps, a new meaning. This is visual metaphor.

The third arrow represents the tradition of film and video. How does this film or video connect to other productions by this director, this cinematographer, this actor? To other productions in this genre? We can begin to analyze a particular production in comparison or contrast to other productions.

The fourth arrow is the arrow that moves from the screen to the viewer. How does the production affect us? Why does it affect us in this way? How does this collection of moving images and sounds touch us intellectually, emotionally, even physically?

By understanding the choices that are available to film and video artists and the impact that these choices have on us, we can hopefully become more discerning and appreciative consumers and producers of media. We become empowered. Because so much information and entertainment come to us through visual images, understanding how these images (and the sounds that often accompany them) affect us––in other words, learning to read this kind of text––is a basic skill.

And what happens when the two art forms––poetry and film/video––are combined? Well, that’s the magic of a video poem, which sounds like a topic for a workshop in October!

Author’s Bio.: David Bengtson grew up in Cranston, Rhode Island, and moved to Minnesota to attend Concordia College in Moorhead. From 1968-2002, he taught English at the high school in Long Prairie, Minnesota, where he lives with his wife, Marilyn. In addition to three chapbooks and a collection of 71 prose poems, his writing has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies and has been heard on “The Writer’s Almanac.” In 2003 at “Poetry Hour,” sponsored by the Department of Natural Resources and the National Park Service on the Mississippi River Stage at the Minnesota State Fair, he handed out his first batch of “Poems-on-Sticks.” Since then, he has given away more than 7000 “Poems-on-Sticks” at readings, workshops, and presentations.

Truth and Memory

April 4, 2012

To tell the truth can be complicated, particularly when delineations between fact and fiction are buried in the opaqueness of memory. The academic’s question is: In writing a memoir when does creative narration of one’s recollections turn nonfiction into fiction? A memoirist’s concern is: How can I make my story interesting, truthful, and authentic?

The earliest memory I can dredge up is being chased by a rooster as a three-year-old. About all I can specifically remember is my terror during a frantic run to the house. Many years later, I sit down tomwrite this story, and I realize how much my memory of this event is clouded — a matter of remembering what my parents remembered in their retelling of the incident. To complicate things, each of them remembered different aspects of the incident, and I remember some of what they said they remembered. They, no doubt, added and forgot details as the event faded in memory.

The story goes like this: As a three-year-old, I learned to mimic our leghorn rooster’s crow. This rooster did most of his crowing from a large stump in the front yard. I watched him and answered his crows with my own. After awhile he hopped down and began strutting among the hens grazing near the lilacs. Trouble started when I climbed up on the stump, flapped my arms and crowed.  I had, in all innocence, challenged his throne. He flew up, talons forward, into my face. Terrified, I flailed at him and tumbled off the stump. He pounced on me with wings beating.  A spike-like tongue stuck out of his open beak and a yellow-ringed eye stared at me from his wrinkled red waddles and comb. When I managed to get up, he chased me to the kitchen door where I ran into the safety of Mom’s arms. I refused to leave the house the rest of the day.

Mom and Dad laughed and teased as they recounted the incident at the supper table. I screamed that I hated that rooster and would never go into the yard again. Mom said I prayed before going to sleep that the rooster would die.

The following morning after breakfast, Dad wanted to show me something in the front yard. I refused to go because that rooster was still out there. Finally, after much coaxing and cajoling, I agreed to go if Dad would carry me. I distinctly remember the terror in my soul and how tightly I held onto Dad as we walked toward the stump. Upon arriving at the stump, Dad pointed to the ground at a dead leghorn rooster, headless and all spattered with blood.

I tell this incident to illustrate how I worked through diffused and lost details to tell my story truthfully. I tried to remember my core feeling of the incident. In this case it was terror. I remembered Robert Frost’s observation, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. . .”  Once I got in touch with my core feelings, I could more readily identify specific sights, smells, textures, and conversations related to those feelings. For instance, I didn’t specifically remember the spike-like tongue during that particular attack, but I recalled seeing it many times in my childhood.

The March issue of WIRED magazine carries an article entitled “The Forgetting Pill” by Jonah Lehrer. He gave me an AH-HA insight into how emotions and sensual details are separate, yet connected circuits in the brain. In the course of discussing new breakthroughs in understanding memory as electro-chemical connections among cells in various parts of the brain, he states:

When we remember a traumatic event, it gets remembered in two separate ways. The first memory is the event itself, that cinematic scene we can deploy at will. The second memory, however, consists entirely of emotion, the negative feelings triggered by what happened (91).

Memories of negative emotions, for instance, are stored in the amygdale, an almond-shaped area in the center of the brain. By contrast, visual elements in the visual cortex, auditory elements in the auditory cortex, and so on (91).

Remembering is more complex than digging out an old super 8 mm movie, a tape recording, or a diary. Every memory begins when various brain cells connect through a network of neurons, so if one cell fires, the rest of the circuit becomes charged. Literally, the fabric of our memory is altered as we mature and age, unconsciously forgetting and remembering details of our experiences. That’s why I think it is important to focus on the emotion or core feeling when recalling an event.  As a memoirist, the core feeling becomes my fountain of truth.

There must have been an intense surge in my brain cells. I can still dredge up the feeling of terror.  I also retain a visual picture of the dead white rooster spattered with blood. Maybe I needed to retain that visual image to resolve my terror. In good creative nonfiction, it’s the details that bring the scene to life. My sensual memory has lost many firsthand details, like the weather, what Mom said, what Dad said, what the stump looked like, and whether I believed Dad killed the rooster or God answered my prayer.

My emotion of terror is still lodged deep in my amygdale. The sequence and details of the event were retold by my parents as a family story. Through careful selection and presentation of details supporting my core feeling of terror, I can tell my story with integrity.  If my reader can feel the terror of a three-year-old being attacked by a rooster, I have told the truth and my story has authenticity.

Author’s Bio.: Luke Anderson started writing poetry and memoir after retiring from a career managing nonprofit organizations. He calls himself a “late onset writer.” His work has been published in The Talking Stick, The Otter Tail Review, The Northwoods Press newspapers, the Lake Region Review and has received several literary awards. He is retired and lives in Battle Lake. He is a member of the Fergus Falls Writers and a founding board member of the Lake Region Writers Network, currently serving as its president.

Letter to a Young Poet

March 27, 2012

In writing this letter I’m also writing to some younger version of myself—the kind of reminder I’ve needed to hear at times.  And by “young” here, I’m talking about experience, not chronology.  For now, more than ever before, people of all ages seem attracted to writing poetry.  I’ve seen that over and over in talking to people after readings I’ve given or attended in creative writing workshops and classes at all levels.  But what I’ve also encountered, far too often, are two things that particularly bother me.

The first one is a preoccupation with the secrets of how-to-do-it, what seems to surround us in every area of living, from car repairs to cooking.  It’s a pervading feeling that “anyone can do it” if only given the right tips—the secrets of the trade, so to speak.  Don’t believe it!  It takes a whole lot more, as Flannery O’Connor said so well a long time ago:  “…there is no technique that can be discovered and applied to make it possible for one to write…If a writer is any good what he makes will have its source in a realm much larger than that which his conscious mind can encompass and will always be a greater surprise to him than it can ever be to the reader” was talking specifically about writing fiction, but what she says applies to poetry, too, perhaps even more so, where one can easily drown in a sea of advice, exercises, and endless talk about technique.  What all of this misses is what O’Connor calls the “vision” at the heart of good writing—in other words, what can’t really be taught.

The second thing that troubles me—and which is certainly related to the first—is the lack of reading on the part of would-be poets of all ages, for it seems evident these days that far more people want to write poetry than to read it.  The first question I ask those who believe they want to write is “what poets have you been reading?”  More often than not, the answer is contained in the blank looks I receive, but I’ve also encountered a number who announce they don’t read poetry because they don’t want to be influenced.  That makes as much sense to me as a painter who refuses to visit art galleries or a musician who never attends concerts.  How in the world do we learn to write if not through reading?  And I don’t just mean the learning of craft, but that “mystery” O’Connor speaks of, that kind of inspiration and awe that transcend technique.

What led me to want to write poetry—and this was a long time ago—was something similar to what Emily Dickinson said in what’s now become a very famous quote:  “If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.”  That begins to describe the way I felt when I first read poets such as James Wright, who spoke to me in ways I couldn’t begin to understand in my youngness, but whose poems I was compelled to read over and over, more amazed and delighted each time.

For me, the mark of a good book of poetry is not one that I can’t put down, but one that I must put down because it has so resonated that I have to write down reactions or images while they are still fresh—things that might eventually show up in a poem of my own.  I tried to capture that feeling perhaps 20 years ago in a poem—which, as I look back at it, still probably says more about what I value in reading poetry and learning from that reading, than anything else I’ve written.  Whether in a book of poems that someone has sent me or in one that I’ve come to on my own, it’s the reading of good poems that has sustained and taught me as a poet, and that avid reading is still the best kind of advice I can possibly offer to a young poet.

For Friends Who Send Poems

In with the blare of circulars,
tidy notices in anonymous envelopes,
lurid promises of fortunes to be won,
there is a small package with my name on it,
light seeping from tears in the wrapping.
For a moment, everything stops:
I turn a book of poems over in my hands,
fingering the sheen of the cover,
the curve of each letter.
I see a face beside a window, expectant,
looking up with the thinnest smile,
and at that moment I remember
just how unfaithful I am:
I will abandon each page that
calls me to one of my own;
it may take years before I finish reading.
Then I see another face by the window,
my face, and I know again
that what we give, we get back,
what we lose, someone else will find for us,
and what is sent out will stay
beyond all finishing and forgetting.

__________

This article was previously published in The Midwest Quarterly, Vol. XLIV, No. 4 (Spring 2003).

The Flannery O’Connor quote is from Mystery and Manners, ed. by Sally and Robert Fitzgerald (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1961).

The Emily Dickinson quote is from Thomas Wentworth Higginson’s recollections of a conversation with Emily Dickinson, published in his essay on Dickinson’s letters in Atlantic Monthly, October 1891.

“For Friends Who Send Poems” is from Mark Vinz’s book Mixed Blessings (1989).

__________

Mark Vinz, a Lake Region Writers Network Board Member, recently retired after 40 years of teaching at Minnesota State University Moorhead where he also served as first coordinator of the university’s Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing Program. His poems, stories, and essays have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. He is the author of six chapbook collections of poems as well as several full-length collections, most recently, Long Distance. Mark is editor for Dacotah Territory Press, which has published a number of short collections by writers in the region, and the co-editor of several anthologies.

Readers and Writers

March 21, 2012

I am a reader.  I write from time to time, but I have never seriously considered myself a writer.  I am serious about reading, however, and do consider myself a dedicated, enthusiastic, and engaged reader.

A few years ago I read Larry McMurtry’s Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen, and  that was when I first  understood reading can be central to your identity and a legitimate life-long occupation. I have read all my life, but it always felt vaguely like stolen moments (if I was having a good time) or an obligation (if I didn’t like what I was made to read). I was amazed to discover that Larry McMurtry, author of more than 40 books, considered his primary occupation to be a reader–and his writing came in third, behind reading and book scouting.

I was overjoyed to know that putting off the dishes or neglecting the laundry in favor of reading might be viewed as a responsible act of a serious adult.  I was empowered to read, without apology, whatever I chose.  It didn’t change the outward appearance of my life–I have always preferred reading to any kind of domestic chore–but it did change the way I viewed reading.  It isn’t something to be done when everything else is done or when time permits. It is a worthy act on its own. No excuse needed. Like exercise and time for reflection, reading is a personal, private act that deserves its own time and attention.

Understanding myself to be a reader has made me consider more thoughtfully the relationship between writers, readers, and the written word. I have learned that not all writers are great readers–and that it makes no difference. What does matter is that writers have always sent their words out into the world to an unknown reception. How those words are received, how they are interpreted, what they inspire or prohibit is dependent on who receives these written words and the meaning they have given to them. Artists of all kinds give their work to the world, and the world makes of it what it will.  Writers may never know where their words have landed or the effect they have had.

John Updike wrote, “When I write, I aim in my mind not toward New York but toward a vague spot a little to the east of Kansas. I think of the books on library shelves, without their jackets, years old, and a countryish teen-aged boy finding them and having them speak to him.”

I am grateful for all the writers, past and present, whose words have been a part of my life. (And for the opportunity as a librarian to share those shelves of books with countryish teen-aged boys.)  These works have sustained me in times of trouble, explained things when I needed instruction, been a ready companion, and have been an endless source of entertainment and inspiration. What has moved me or enlightened me may have nothing to do with the author’s intentions. The source may be a book or a newspaper or a simple note.  But there it is: once the world receives the written word, it no longer belongs to the writer but rather to the reader. The written word ripples out through time, touching readers in ways unknown to the writer.

Thank you, writers. I am a grateful reader whose life has been shaped by the written word. I look forward to years of reading and sharing the written word in a plethora of formats and settings.  And that is an exciting future to anticipate!

Author’s Bio.: Ruth Solie has been a librarian for over 30 years, working with all kinds of libraries and in a variety of communities. Currently, she is the Consultant for Special Projects for the Northern Lights Library Network in Detroit Lakes. She grew up in Montana, attended Carleton College as an undergraduate, and received graduate degrees from Michigan State University and the University of Chicago.  Her personal commitment is to literature, literacy, libraries, and young children. She has been an active promoter and supporter of the literary arts in Minnesota through involvement with the Minnesota Book Award program, as co-chair of the Spotlight on Books Conference, and extensive library programming over the years. She is honored to work with the writers of the Lakes Region Writers Network.

2nd Annual Prairie Gate Literary Festival

March 20, 2012

The Second Annual Prairie Gate Literary Festival will be held in Morris, Minnesota, on the evenings of March 29 and 30 and all day on March 31, 2012. This unique festival brings together noted authors and poets for readings, workshops, and camaraderie. The festival was created to provide a place for aspiring writers and literary enthusiasts to learn from and interact with published writers.

The festival begins on the evening of Thursday, March 29, with a reading by poet Michael Dekel at 7:30 p.m. in the McGinnis Room of UMM’s Briggs Library. Dekel is a poet and photographer with degrees in psychology, creative writing, and English literature from the University of Minnesota. He visited Israel in 1998, 2004, and 2006 and has studied Torah and Kabbalah in Minnesota and Israel. An open mic will follow Dekel’s reading and everyone is welcome to participate.

On Friday evening, author and humorist, Michael Perry will read and perform with his band The Long Beds. The program, held in Edson Auditorium, in UMM’s Student Center, begins at 7:30 p.m. Michael Perry is a humorist and author of the bestselling memoirs Population: 485: Meeting Your Neighbors One Siren at a Time, Truck: A Love Story, and Coop: A Year of Poultry, Pigs and Parenting, as well as the essay collection Off Main Street. Perry has written for Esquire, The New York Times Magazine, Outside, Backpacker, Orion and Salon.com, and is a contributing editor to Men’s Health.

Saturday is a big day, with a variety of opportunities to interact with and learn from the visiting writers. The readings on Saturday include a novelist, two poets, and a writer/illustrator team.

The day begins with coffee and registration/sign-in starting at 8:15 a.m. in Imholte Hall, on the UMM campus. Participants can choose between two different workshops at each of two sessions:

9:00–10:15 a.m.   “The Art of Writing Poetry with Ilya Kaminsky” and “The Art of Writing Fiction with Susan Power”

10:30–11:45 a.m.   “The Art of Writing Poetry with Simone Muench” and “The Art of Writing Creative Non-Fiction with Michael Perry”

Workshop participants are also invited to attend a lunch with the writers.

On Saturday afternoon, at 1:30, the author/illustrator team of Brittney Sabo and Anna Bratton will read at the Morris Public Library. Brittany Sabo is a comic artist who graduated with a B.F.A. in Illustration from the Minneapolis College of Art in Design.  Anna Bratton also graduated from the Minneapolis College of Art in Design with a B.F.A. in comic art.  Together they have written Francis Sharp in the Grip of the Uncanny! for which they won a Xeric Award in 2010.

Participants will return to the Briggs Library on the UMM campus for a reading at 4:00 p.m. by novelist Susan Power. Power is a member of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe, a descendant of the Sioux Chief Mato Nupa (Two Bears) and of Mary Louise Primeau, and a native Chicagoan. She received degrees from Harvard/Radcliffe and Harvard Law School, and attended the Iowa Writers Workshop where has also been an instructor. In 1995 she won the PEN/Hemingway Award for Best First Fiction. She is a writer and poet, and also teaches creative writing  She is the author of The Grass Dancer, The Strong Heart Society, Roof Walker and a forthcoming new novel.

On Saturday evening, poets Ilya Kaminsky and Simone Muench, will read in the Briggs Library on the UMM campus. Kaminsky, who was born in the former Soviet Union, is the author of Dancing in Odessa, winning of the Whiting Writer’s Award, the American Academy of Arts and Letters’ Metcalf Awad, the Dorset Prize, and the Ruth Lilly Fellowship. He is the editor of the Ecco Anthology of International Poetry. Simone Muench was raised in Louisiana and Arkansas and  is the author of The Air Lost in Breathing (Marianne Moore Prize for Poetry; Helicon Nine, 2000), Lampblack & Ash (Kathryn A. Morton Prize for Poetry; Sarabande, 2005), Orange Crush (Sarabande, 2010) and Disappearing Address, co-written with Philip Jenks (BlazeVOX, 2010). She is a recipient of two Illinois Arts Council Fellowships, a Vermont Studio Center Fellowship, the 49th Parallel Award for Poetry, the PSA’s Fine Lines Contest, the Charles Goodnow Award, the AWP Intro Journals Project Award, the Poetry Center’s 9th Annual Juried Reading Award, the Frederick Stern Award for Teaching, and the PSA’s Bright Lights/Big Verse Contest.

All readings are free and open to the public. The cost of the workshops is $20 each or $30 for two. The cost of lunch is included in the workshop fee.

For more information on the festival, writer bios, and workshop registration, visit the PGLF website at http://www.morris.umn.edu/prairiegate/.

 

 

 

Profile of Successful Prolific Writers

March 7, 2012

What do successful prolific writers look like?  Do they spend countless hours at their desks, laboring over their work?  Do they do nothing else with their lives but write?  They would have to, wouldn’t they?  No, not necessarily.   The Key:  Successful prolific writers utilize their time and creative energy to their fullest potential.  Consider the following strategies in order to become a prolific writer.

Time Management

Create a weekly writing schedule and keep it religiously.  For the new writer it might be a block of time on the weekend while maintaining a full-time job during the week.  For the part-time writer it might be two or three hours per day.  For the full-time writer six to eight hours a day. Whatever amount of time is set aside, two things are required for success:  no distractions and stick-to-it-ive-ness.  Always write during your scheduled writing time.

Think Time

Use the allotted writing time wisely, but also use non-writing time well for think time.  For example, at dinner discuss with family members the characters you are writing about.  While washing dishes envision a conflict you want to develop in the story.  During an evening walk plan the description of the community where your characters live.  Plan ahead what you are going to write.  Then during your scheduled writing time, the think time turns an empty computer screen into a viable working draft.  It helps you avoid writer’s block.

List of Ideas

Keep an ongoing list of ideas that strike you as possible writing topics.  Carry a small notebook with you at all times; put it on your nightstand at night.  You never know when an idea will strike.  Write down anything that seems interesting whether it fits the manuscript you are currently working on or not.  Many writers record in their notebooks not only topics but lines for poems, dialogue for characters, setting descriptions, etc.  You may even want to give your notebook a title. Robert Frost called his notebook “Wood Notes.”

Works in Progress

Work on more than one manuscript at a time. Why?  All drafts need a rest time–a period of time when the writer does not look at the draft before editing the final draft.  Set aside a draft for a day or two for short pieces, a week for longer manuscripts, a month or two for books.  Several works in process can also avoid wasted time.  If one story or poem isn’t working for you, switch to another manuscript that is.

Set Deadlines

Every writer has deadlines whether imposed by an editor or self-determined.  So, set strict deadlines that can be realistically met.  No lame excuses.  Writing is your occupation.  Fulfill your obligations.  Getting the first draft completed is the largest hurdle.  So, don’t procrastinate.  Be a professional.  Meet your deadlines.

Revise and Edit

First drafts are not finished pieces of work.  Several drafts of revising and editing must occur in order to achieve an excellent piece of work.  How?  Become part of a writer’s group.  Graciously receive their honest, constructive input.  Cut repetition and wordiness.  Make your word choice precise.  Show don’t tell. Avoid passive voice.  Use correct punctuation and grammar structures.

Submit Work

Find suitable publications for your work.  When you find a literary journal or magazine that you like, study the stories and poems previously accepted by the editors.  Follow submission guidelines meticulously.  If your work is rejected, find another market and send it out again.  A rejection letter doesn’t mean that your work isn’t any good. 

Finally, turn off the television, cell phone, and radio.  Spend less time on emails, Facebook, and pass-a-longs.  Quit surfing the Internet.  Instead open a new Word file and write.  Or grab a favorite pen and tablet and write. Write as much and as often as your schedule permits because becoming a successful prolific writer means you need to utilize your time and creative energy to your fullest potential.

Author’s Bio.: Linda Frances Lein is a writing instructor at Minnesota State University Moorhead. She has published four books: Mother to Mother: Letters about Being a Mom (1999), Country Reflections (2000), Hannah Kempfer: An Immigrant Girl (2002), and The Making of a Small Town: Carlisle, Minnesota (2008). From 1999-2003 she wrote a bimonthly column called “A Day in the Life of a Farm Wife” for AGRI-GUIDE. The stories were set on the Lein Farm and surrounding rural community where she lives. Linda is primarily a creative nonfiction writer, but she has had poems published in The Rambler and Red Weather as well, and she is currently working on two novels.

Stuck?

February 28, 2012

Do you want to write, but find your will disobedient? Do you avert your eyes as you walk past your office, refuse to open a particular desk drawer (where an unfinished manuscript lies), or avoid yellow legal pads altogether? If so, you may be suffering from a common malady–writer’s block.

Literary writing (or any type of writing, for that matter) is an amazing thing. Some inspiration within strings words into sentences into paragraphs, one after another, lines on a page, then two, and finally a whole passel of pages. Pages grow to memoir or fiction or poetry or some other genre and are sent forth into the world with timid hope and more than a little trepidation.

Is it any wonder, brains sometimes balk? The creative process itself can be the source of difficulty–inspiration fades, or a work conceived turns out to be bigger than our ability or experience to complete. Fear in all its guises can stop progress:  fear of failure, of critical comments, of not living up to expectations–our own, others, or even our own reputation from a previous success.  Physical illness, depression, financial tension, relationship troubles–all can stop the creative juices.

So what can you do when you’re stuck? Some of the tips below have worked for me–maybe they’ll work for you too:

  • Write as a routine – Establish a time and place to write and stick to it. Write a certain number of words each session no matter how you feel.
  • Begin sessions with a free-writing exercise – Set a timer for ten minutes and write without lifting pen from paper or fingers from keyboard. Don’t stop even if all you do is write, “I don’t know what to write” over and over again. Or try another writing exercise–there are plenty on the Internet. The activity will “prime the pump.”
  • Turn off the inner critic – Get words on a page and don’t evaluate them. To quote Ecclesiastics: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”  This is your time to write freely…the time for editing will come–later.
  • Aim for “good enough”–Don’t set out to write the great American novel or the most insightful or eloquent poetry ever written. Consider 80%, good enough.
  • Set deadlines and keep them–Nothing focuses the mind like a deadline. Join a writers group and get yourself on the schedule to read. Or ask a spouse or trusted friend to hold you to deadlines you set.
  • Be discerning when it comes to feedback–Take comments under advisement. Don’t tear up your work and start over with every critical comment made. Learn to separate the wheat from the chafe: keep the wheat and toss the chafe.

What do you do when you’re stuck?

Author’s Bio.: Reba Gilliand is a founding member of Lake Region Writers Network and served as project manager for its 2010 writers’ conference. She moved from the Cities to west central Minnesota in 2001 after twenty-five years helping organizations improve their work environment.  She “retired” to the lake area where she, among other things, indulges her passions of writing and gardening.  She has degrees in Organizational Psychology and English, and a certificate in Gerontology. She writes regularly for two regional magazines: Lake and Home Magazine and In Good Company and attends the Fergus Falls Writing Group.  Reba is serving as vice president of the LRWN Board.

 

Find a Writer’s Group–Now

February 14, 2012

Want to improve your writing? Join a writer’s group.  Writing isolated and alone with only you to critique the work will seldom produce good results.  After all, according to you, everything you write is either crap or magnificent—neither of which is true.  And even if you do spot an error, it is difficult to know how to fix it, since logic follows that if you knew how to fix it you probably wouldn’t have erred in the first place. Yes, a writing group will give you what you need the most—a reality check.

You’ll know you are in a good group when you don’t always hear what you want to hear.  Your writing buddies aren’t there to pat you on the back, but to make you a stronger, better writer.  To make the most of your group, when it is your turn to present, come prepared with a list of questions, weak spots, or specific areas you want them to pay attention to.  So often a critique focus is on little things like punctuation or spelling.  These are polishes best left for the final draft. What you really need to know is if the writing works. Does what you wrote make sense? Should the sentence structure be adjusted?  Does the reader understand your character’s motivation?

I once presented a short story to my group in which my protagonist had poisoned her aggravating boyfriend. But my goal was to merely suggest the poisoning had happened and leave the reader to come to the conclusion—Hey! She poisoned him… didn’t she? No one in the group got it. What was clear in my head was not written on the paper. I was thinking my goodness this is too obvious! They were thinking why did she let her boyfriend walk all over her?  Because I let the story unfold and did not coach the group ahead of time, they gave me an honest and valuable critique. I had missed my mark. With the groups help, I added a few touches and achieved my goal of a subtle, but understandable suggestion, of poisoning without it being buried in the story so deeply the only way to know what was happening would have been to mine it directly out of my head. Ouch.

You must be honest with yourself as well. Listen to the suggestions, but use your own judgment. One of the common critiques writers hear at my group is tighten, tighten, tighten.  Some take that to mean strip the work of anything but the bare minimum.  In my mystery, Beaver Falls, Alex leaps into her red jeep and takes off. Someone in the group thought I should just say car. Was he right? Red jeep tells something about Alex, pink Cadillac would say something else. By choosing particular words I am actually able to tell about my character in fewer words.  A red jeep implies Alex is adventuresome, probably not a girly-girl. So no, car would not work, but his input initiated a good discussion about the power of the well-chosen word.

Lastly, a writers group strengthens your the desire to do your best. I belong to a group of writers that I respect and admire. I want to give them my best and when I do they return their best.  And we are all better for it.

Author’s Bio.: Lois Reff has published a monthly motivational newsletter since 2002.  She enjoys learning about and writing in the genre of fiction.  She has participated in several Barnes and Nobel writing workshops, and the Weekend With Your Novel workshop at the University of Wisconsin.  She is an active member of the Fergus Falls Writers’ Group.  She and her husband, along with eight pets, live north of Fergus Falls by Jewett Lake. Lois is serving as the LRWN Conference Director.