Nov 10, 2012 |
I saw the new James Bond movie tonight. SKYFALL. Don’t worry, I won’t give away any spoilers.
Have I told you how hard it is for me to watch movies or television? It has to be an exceptionally good program to distract me from my Writer’s Brain that is always trying to rewrite the scenes.
An even better program is one that inspires me to not write. I can often be found scribbling notes in the dark of the theater, but a great movie keeps my eyes, and thoughts, on the screen.
SKYFALL did just that. Only occasionally did I wish theaters offered a Pause or Rewind option, so I could better indulge my senses.
I found myself striving to be one of those writers. Another Ian Fleming. Or Louisa May Alcott. The kind of writer whose story quality you know just from their name. When was the last time you heard “Bond. James Bond.” and didn’t imagine a tall, suave tuxedoed spy ready to tackle any problem – or person – that came at him? Or do you imagine Sherlock Holmes without his hat and pipe?
It can’t be done.
That’s the type of writer I strive to be. One who perhaps writes in a language a bit more romantic and old-fashioned, who can capture scene and emotion and action with one swift pen stroke. Whose characters are endearing, endangered, and extraordinary.
I desire strongly to capture the essence of the world around me, whether it be filled with steel and glass that shatters on impact, or an endless row of cherry blossom trees that lace the river banks with their delicate pink flowers.
When I’m lost in a setting of modern machine guns in exotic countries or strolling through woods of old…
That’s the type of writer I strive to be.
Jo. Molly Jo.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 27, 2011 |
I come from a long line of readers and writers. I know, I know: big shocker, there.
So it’s also not a shocker that I was gifted three wonderful books for Christmas.
In my family, books are more than paper and binding. Books are entire worlds. Explanations to this one, doors to others. They hold the past, present and future; they hold wishes and dreams and everything real and imagined. Where some people say a picture is worth a thousand words, I’d rather have the words thankyouverymuch. Books are manna in my family.
The first book is my Pastor’s “Route 66 Journal”. One of our main roads out here is the old Route 66. There are 66 books in the Bible. My Pastor’s great at making connections like that, things people will remember. In 2012, Pastor Tom is going to lead us to read the entire Bible from cover to cover. He designed a very simple reading plan to do so, and the journal has a daily entry with simple parts for each daily reading: 1. What does it say? 2. What does it mean? 3. How does it apply? I figure if I want God to continue to bless me and my family the least I can do is give Him half an hour of each day to read and write just for Him. I’m excited about what we’ll learn and how it will change my life. I fully expect it to. Maybe not dramatically; maybe not overnight. But I do expect a good change, and that excites me.
The second book I received is Stephen J. Cannell’s “Vigilante”. It’s the last in his Shane Scully series, finished shortly before he died. If you’ve been around me or my blog, you’ll know that I’m a huge fan of SJC. In 2007 I sent him an email and over the course of three-plus years he became a great mentor and encouraged me to keep writing. I finally had the chance to meet him in person six months before he passed. When he died, I thought it was a joke. I kept waiting for someone to say his Facebook page had been hacked or something. But then the news sites reported it. And later that day came the email. I have the first six books in the Shane Scully series, and now I have the last. I’ll quickly collect the three I’m missing, and those ten books are on my reading list for 2012.
But the best book of all, the one I never expected, the one that I am almost afraid of opening for fear of creasing the pages or smudging the cover… a hardcover collection of the Chronicles of Narnia. It’s beautiful. It’s inspirational. It’s magical. The spare room in my house is called the Narnia Room. It’s designed around a painting of a path into a forest. The walls are painted Mountain Sage Green. I have a brown park bench inside, a fake tree, and flowers, and just walking into the room evokes the magic of stepping through the Wardrobe. The book will have a special, prominent, secure place in the room. At the top of the bookshelf. There’s seven more books for the reading list.
I also need to finish my Louis L’Amour. I want to read “Little Women”, the “Left Behind” series. I only have the first 12 of these, as the last four were added after the series was supposedly finished. So I’m only planning to read the first 12 (at least for now). At some point I’ll get the remaining four and read those as well.
I have Anne Rice’s Songs of the Seraphim series, two books so far. I picked them up when I stayed at the Mission Inn in Riverside last spring. She wrote the books while staying there, and it figures greatly into the plot.
I’m also very intent on reading my Sherlock Holmes collection (the complete collection in two volumes). My favorite Uncle sent me the collection nearly 18 years ago. He was also a writer, and had the most amazing handwriting. I still love reading the letters he sent me before he died. When I was not quite two years old, he wrote a book for our families, a Christmas story that we read every year. So when in passing I mentioned to him that I wanted to read all the Sherlock Holmes stories, four weeks later I was stunned to receive a package containing just that. He was a most amazing man, friend, Uncle and supporter. Reading Sherlock Holmes seems like such a small way to keep him around. I miss our weekly donut dates and only hope he’s looking down with pride at my writing.
That’s 36 books. Now, if I read as fast as my mom does, I’d have them done by the end of February. Unfortunately, I don’t read that fast. So I’m giving myself the entire year. That’s three books a month. And if I add any more to my shelves (which I’m fairly certain I will)… well, for me, that’s a whole lotta reading. But as my Mom keeps reminding me, to be a good writer, I also need to be a good reader.
I think I’ll get a headstart and pick up a book tonight.
Now I just need to figure out where to begin…
Dec 18, 2011 |
Every now and then, I wonder if my goals and dreams are reachable. Am I really doing what I’m supposed to be doing, or am I wasting my time? If I’m supposed to be a writer, why aren’t I published yet? Can I report back to my family, friends, and readers that I’m really doing everything I can to reach these goals, or am I just sitting around waiting for that Golden Ticket to fall in my lap?
Am I just fooling myself?
I think not!
Because every time I think of throwing in the towel, two things happen: First, I start singing that song from Annie: “It’s a Hard-Knock Life”. The one with the lyrics about what a sad little life those orphan girls live. And second, I remember.
I remember why I love writing.
It’s because I love reading.
And I remember that my favorite authors weren’t always authors. They all started somehow, sometime. And they never gave up.
They inspire me:
L. Frank Baum was married with two children when his newspaper business folded. In 1898, at the age of 42, he had received many rejection letters and decided the only way to get published was to do it himself. He self-published his book, By The Candelabra’s Glare”, which finally garnered him the attention he needed. Two years later, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was published, leading the way for 15 sequels.
Laura Ingalls Wilder devoted her life to her husband, children, and their farm. It was her daughter Rose’s encouragement that led her to write Little House in the Big Woods, the first in the “Little House” series of books for children. She was 65 when it was published in 1932.
Louisa May Alcott fashioned her Little Women stories after her childhood and sisters. She fancied herself to be Jo March, the unsettled tomboy writer of the four. Struck by poverty, Louisa determined to help her family by any means, and took such jobs as seamstress, governess, and teacher. However, she never let go of her dream of writing and at the age of 22, her first book was published. At age 36, Little Women brought her her most famous success.
Stephen J. Cannell overcame dyslexia to produce and write many popular television shows from the early 1970s through the 1990s. He sold his production company and began his second career: a novelist. His Shane Scully series is a popular cop-drama-in-print; the final novel having been published December 6, 2011, just over one year after his death.
Charles Dickens was born into an impoverished family. His father often lived beyond his means and when Charles was young, his father was arrested into Debtor’s Prison. His mother and siblings soon followed. Charles was a young teen when he was forced to quit school in order to work over ten hours each day to help his family. These experiences flowed out of him in his creative works, most notably, A Christmas Carol.
Lucy Maud Montgomery’s mother died when she was just 21 months old. Out of grief, her father handed custody over to Lucy’s maternal grandparents who raised her in an overly strict, lonely manner. When she was sixteen, Lucy spent a year with her father and his new wife, but came back to her beloved Cavendish. Lucy credited her lonely childhood as starting her creative mind, as that’s when created several imaginary friends and began to write. A poem was locally published when she was just 16, but her real success came at age 34 when her first novel was printed: Anne of Green Gables was the fairy-tale telling of a mixture of Lucy’s childhood and the life she had wished for. Ten more novels recounting life on Prince Edward Island followed.
J. M. Barrie’s family dissuaded his writing tendencies, instead encouraging him to go into Ministry. He bargained with his parents and they agreed that he could attend college to study literature. He was first published with minor works in 1888. It wasn’t until 1904, when Barrie was 44 years old, that Peter Pan entered the world. Shortly before his death, Barrie gave all Peter Pan rights to the Great Ormond Street Hospital; which to this day, continues to benefit from Barrie’s talents.
These stories and more inspire me. They inspire me to write my stories. They inspire me to keep at it, no matter what. Because some day, I’ll be on a list like this.
Whatever it is you’re born to do, don’t give up. Learn from others who have forged the way for you. Let their lights lead you. And blaze your own trail for those who follow.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart…” [Colossians 3:23a].
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
