Writing Salon Mistress Muses

Advice for People Who Take Writing Advice

Here's the beginning to a fun blog post that I read this morning.

This morning, I flip-clicked through my blog roll and landed on Craig Lancaster’s always-interesting blog. [Craig Lancaster is the author of a novel soon to be released by Riverbend Publishing.] In the entry, “How Do You Do It,” Lancaster answers a question–”How do you do it?”–posed by a facebook friend who wanted to know how Lancaster gets started on a story.

read entire post here:  www.backwordbooks.com

If you don't have time to read the whole post, here's an excerpt that was my favorite part. It dovetails perfectly with what I believe about life in general, which is this: There's rarely only ONE right way to do ANYTHING!

Hang around writers or dabble in the writing world long enough and you’ll hear it all.

1. When to write. (First thing in the morning. An hour after you wake up. At the same time every day. At a different time every day. When you’re all alone in the house/apartment. When you can hear welcome noises through the door. After dinner. Just before going to sleep. At midnight when your mind is clear of the day’s stresses. At three in the morning when no one in the world except third-shift workers are crazy enough to be awake on purpose.)

2. How often to write. (Once a day. Once every two days. Once a week. Every other Thursday.)

3. How much to write. (One thousand words. Two hundred words. Three single-spaced pages. A sentence.)

4. How often and how much to write. (A thousand words a day. One sentence every day. Two pages every two days, even if one of those days you write nothing…as long as you end up with two pages every other day.)

5. How often, how much, and when to write. (Two pages every second Thursday at seven-thirty in the morning!)

And not to be forgotten are the personal essentials:

1. Where your writing space should be. (In the middle of things. Off somewhere private. Half and half.)

2. What your writing space should be. (Small and cozy to keep your ideas close. Large, open, and airy to let your mind roam free. Neat and organized, as should you be! Cluttered and comfortable—creativity knows no rules!)

3. Final touch-ups. (Books around you. A nice pen. Soft music. No music. Open window. Closed window, shades down. Pickle-juice on your forehead and a post-it in your mouth.)

Here’s my advice:

1. When to write: when you want to.
2. How often to write: as often as you want to.
3. How much to write: until you feel like stopping.
4. How often and how much to write: see #2 and #3.
5. How much, how often, and when to write: see #1 - #4.
6. Where and what your writing space should be: wherever and whatever appeals to you. (I’ll write in one spot at no certain time of day for months, and then I’ll simply have to be in a new room if I’m to feel inspired at all.)

No one knows you the way you do, and you are probably very aware of what makes you comfortable, when you do or don’t feel inspired, and what you like to have around you. What works for one writer will not work for others.

Alan Alda Quote

The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself.

via www.wisdomquotes.com

Our SF Fiction Teacher Talks About His New Novel

One of our fiction teachers in San Francisco, Josh Mohr, who has been busy the last several weeks promoting his new book, was interviewed in yesterday's SF Chronicle Datebook section, HERE.

I really like Josh a lot, but other than knowing he's been doing a great job of teaching here at the Writing Salon — and is a seriously up-and-coming writer — I admit to not knowing a whole lot else about him. So...it was quite fun to find out more in this interview.

Dear Alice Munro

Last night after midnight, I finally managed to stay awake long enough to finish reading one short story by Alice Munro. The story was called Chance, and it was in her book of short stories called Runaway. Her story, which was character driven, pulled me along as deftly as a magnet pulls a metal filing.

What was going to happen to shy and romantically inexperienced Juliet when she went to visit the man she'd met on the train? They had spent only a few hours on the train together. He was, essentially, a stranger. It had been six months since the train encounter when she received a short letter from him, a letter that said little more than "I've thought of you often." He had sent it to the school where she taught, because he hadn't known her address and, in fact, could not even remember her last name.

Nothing boded well for Juliet. The trip seemed destined to end badly, somehow. But how? I was reminded of myself at age 21, the same as as Juliet. I had all but forgotten how it feels to be 21, to be so on the verge of. . . almost everything!

Where was Alice Munro taking Juliet? Where was she taking ME? And why?

Reading that story made me want to write again. I'd also forgotten how reading can inspire me as a writer. It doesn't even have to be a whole book. My time for reading is limited, and squeezing in a short story is about the best I can do right now. But oh, what a relief from the torture of TV. A torture I impose on myself far too often. What an idiot I am! Television has gotten so BAD. The reality shows are hideous. Moronic. They certainly don't inspire me to write.

Dear dear Alice Munro. Thank you.

My tip for today (obvious but can never be said enough to an American): Read more good literature. It will inspire you and perhaps even teach you a thing or two about how to improve your own work. Turn off the TV. Turn off the iPod. Turn off the cell phone. Turn off the radio. Turn off the computer. Pick up the book. Open the book. Read.

Rivers & Tides

Ever seen the documentary, Rivers & Tides? I caught part of it on TV a couple of years ago, but last night I watched the whole thing from start to finish. Even though I was sleepy when I started watching  — which isn't the greatest state to be in when trying to focus your attention on such a slow-paced film— I still thought it was a fascinating story about one man's journey as an artist — his reflections on his creative process, his views of nature, of time. . . and more.

This man, Andy Goldsworthy, is a sculptor whose studio is "nature itself." In the documentary, he sculpts creations of ice and stone on a beach in Nova Scotia, weaves rivers of sheep's wool across barren pastures in Scotland, spins webs of twigs into the branches of trees. Every piece of work he creates is fleeting. Rivers, tides and wind wash them away, blow them over, or wear them down. Often they have vanished within minutes or hours.

What I realized midway through the film was that much of what he has to say about his process of sculpting could easily be applied to the process of writing.

This documentary came out in 2001; if you missed it, I suggest you check it out. It's a thought-provoking portrait of a gently quirky, highly articulate and original artist-philosopher whose dedication and determination to find meaning from his work/art is inspirational.

Here's a link to a well-written review on it that I just found.

Shoebox Poems and Philip Whalen

Before I began writing erotica and personal essays, I went through two graduate programs in poetry.  I liked H.D., Denise Levertov, Alice Notley, Stan Rice, Galway Kinnell, Robert Bly, Rumi, Wallace Stevens, William Carlos Williams, Muriel Rukeyser, Anselm Hollo, Pablo Neruda, Tomas Transtromer, e.e. cummings, Stan Rice. Lots of poets who fed my soul.

This month is National Poetry Month. Even so, I had to cancel this session's poetry workshop. I sent an email to my poet friend, Will:  “Well, as it turns out, all my impassioned pleas to people to consider taking a poetry class did not pay off. I had only one sign-up for the poetry class. Had to cancel it.”

Will wrote back: “Sorry to hear that. Where have all the poets gone??? Long time passing??? Where have all the poets gone, long time ago??? etc.”

As I ponder this question, I find myself traveling back to 1978, when I was living in a funky boarding house one door up from the corner of Page and Laguna streets in Hayes Valley. One day I discovered that I lived around the corner from the poet Philip Whalen, who resided at the San Francisco Zen Center.

When I learned that this famous poet and scholar was my neighbor (ah, the thrill of living in San Francisco after all those years stuck in Utah), I sought him out to ask if he'd take a look at my poems. Amazingly, he said yes. I gave him a stack of 20 or 30.