On Success

I came across this quote by Tom Clancy and had to post it here for all those of us who feel bogged down during our journey towards the end of our novels:

"Success is a finished book, a stack of pages each of which is filled with words. If you reach that point, you have won a victory over yourself no less impressive than sailing single-handed around the world."

I don't know about you, but I needed to hear that!!

Back to the nitty gritty.

Casting Characters - The Creative Process

I imagine each writer has his own way of coming up with a character to write about. I'm at the point where a new novel is simmerring in my brain, dying to come out. This made me think about the creative process and how it happens, at least to me.

The first mental picture I get is not about the story idea, but about one of the leading roles. In romances there has to be a male and a female protagonist. One of the two crops up first in my mind in the form of a faceless person with a specific job and an internal conflict connected to that job. I choose professions that fascinate me, or rather, my characters choose them. Then I start thinking about setting...contemporary Rome...a Sicilian male protagonist who rejects his roots and an American heroine who has a job and a life she's not sure she wants any more...lots of possibilities.

But wait, my characters still don't have a face and without a face I can't write. I need to be able to look my characters in the eye and talk to them. I need to throw a casting session. I shop around for the faces, usually more or less famous ones that intrigue me and I start putting the hero and heroine together. I look for pictures of that person with different expressions, smiling, moody, laughing, serious, tender, angry...that kind of thing. When I label the picture with the name I assign to my character, in my head that character is no longer who he is in reality..or rather, reality becomes the one inside my head.

The character, face and all, belongs to me.

We shake hands, start discussing the new endeavour. Right now I can see my two protagonists waiting for me in the wings. They have a look of rebuke in their eyes that says, "When are you going to get cracking? Resolve our conflicts. Write our story."

Patience my lovelies. I have to finish a rewrite first and yes, I'm groaning. Meanwhile I'm reading about character creation before I go to sleep at night.

Finding The Courage To Write

Writing a novel is a pipe dream for many. Most get discouraged when they're not even halfway through. Some of us fear writing with a vengeance, yet still possess the tenacity to finish what we start, despite the obstacles and the slim chances of success. Why do we put ourselves through the wringer even though we feel tortured to a game of Russian roulette each time we face the blank page? Why, despite our terror of producing drivel, do we still continue to put words on paper and send out our manuscripts to would-be agents and publishers?

If you're a novel writer, budding or otherwise who is suffering from the above-mentioned symptoms and need a boost to your morale and writing endeavours check out my article, I Dare You, published on T-Zero: The Writer's E-Zine at:

http://thewritersezine.com/t-zero/archives/2004-texts/2004-11-craft1.shtml

Simply knowing that other people are enduring the same writing pains makes it a much less lonelier journey.

The Dream In My Pocket

An advert on Italian TV shows people going into a bank with a dream. One young man's dream was a fancy motorcycle...typical...Everyone came out of the building with smiling faces because the bank helped make their dream come true.

Each time I get those astrological spam messages I didn't ask for, promising me luck and good fortune I shake my head. They promise I'm going to become very rich and will be very lucky in love etc...etc...You know the drill. But they can't promise what I really want.

My dream is to get published in novel-length romance fiction and only hard work and persistence will get me there. A tiny dose of luck might help, too. My husband says I'll make it one day because I'm tenacious. I hope he's right. I'm putting my one hundred percent into it, but doubts plague me. Fear is my constant companion. Especially when I see the notes about rejection on the writing lists I'm on. The one I like best is that rejection is like losing your virginity. It's tough the first time, but it gets better. It's important to be able to laugh at ourselves and move on. I'm still working on that part.

Last Sunday I went for a walk near the beach. The Mediterranean was a vast, calm expanse of blue, the sun shining diamonds on the surface. What is it about the sea that makes me feel I can accomplish anything? Somehow, when I look at it, I'm one step closer to the Creator and there's nothing I cannot dream. The horizon awaits. There's bound to be land out there at some point.

I'm gonna keep rowing.

The Beauty of Goal-Setting

Yesterday afternoon, I worked on my novel rewrite at the table on the balcony. The weather has turned warmer and it's pleasant to sit in a shaded place surrounded by plants and flowers. What I hadn't bargained for was company. And from a magpie of all things. A smart black one with splashes of white at its throat.

Perched on the roof of the building opposite my house she seemed to be scouring the area. Why did I assume it was a she? Patience and I'll explain.

For a moment all thoughts of my rewrite fled. Silent as a mouse I sat transfixed and watched the magpie fly across the road onto my neighbour's roof with a large twig in its beak. More seconds ticked by. After a while it soared, wings spread wide, straight to the top of a considerably large tree in my front garden. Don't ask me what tree it is because I don't know. But the branches fan out and the leaves fill in the spaces in between. More important, the mapie likes it and from my second-floor balcony, I have a front seat view.

When the magpie flew off, my curiosity got the better of me and I took a closer look. A myriad of twigs, all more or less the same size, covered the spread branches in a haphazard manner. This made me think about the magpie's labour of love. Step by step, she is building a nest for her little ones in a safe place and no one is going to stop her. Not if I can help it, that's for sure. I only hope the traffic doesn't scare her off. I've always loved birds and now I can birdwatch from my own home. So much more interesting than all the demential reality shows airing on Italian TV nowadays.

I don't mind rewriting, have learned a lot since I started, but proofreading and editing can be a drag. Like a good girl, I went back to my laptop and finished proofreading and editing chapter 9. I set a daily goal and saw it through. There are six more to achieve before the week is out.

This morning I peeked out on the balcony and saw the magpie resting in the arms of the tree. A second later she took off, in search of more twigs. If she can do it, so can I. One twig at a time.

When Non-Writers Don't Get It

I have another poem published. A positive thing.

It's hard for me to make non-writer friends understand the thrill of seeing my name published on a website alongside a poem I wrote. I write free verse and haiku when the muse hits me and I'm also working on the rewrite of my first romance novel. Another story is waiting in the wings. I'm looking forward to starting and dreading it at the same time. For crazy li'l old me, that's normal.

My friends love me, I know that. They're there for me when I need a shoulder and rejoice when something good happens to me, but when it comes to writing, they just don't get it. I'm convinced it's because they're not writers. It hurt at first when all they said was, "Really? That's great. Who knows? Some day you might start earning a substantial amount of money from it."

I don't mind earning money in return for my writing and I'm always in search of paying markets. I guess their offhand comments wounded my idealistic soul. I spend time listening to their ramblings about children and diapers and tiffs with in-laws even if I'm married but have no kids. It would be nice to be able to discuss my novel rewrite struggles with them once in a while without seeing their eyes glaze over. I can actually see their brains tune out.

Maybe someday they'll really listen... and pigs will fly.

Dads

My dad used to sing in nightclubs in his spare time when he was young and according to my mum, he was good. As a result, he's always had a passion for oldies. Songs by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Perry Como, The Platters, Engelbert Humperdinck, Tom Jones, Petula Clarke, Connie Frances...the list is endless. It was inevitable that he would pass his passion on to me. I love to listen to this genre when I'm in a mellow mood. When Frank Sinatra died, I felt like I had lost a dear uncle. Listening to his songs had made him one of the family.

Lately, dad has been badgering me to listen to a song by Nat King Cole called Smile. Now I know why he insisted so much. It's a beautiful song with touching lyrics I really needed to hear. I sent him a message and told him each time I listen to it I will always think of him. I can percieve his presence in the room as the music floats towards me and evelopes me in its soothing wisdom. Thanks to sing365.com. for the lyrics.

Smile

Smile though your heart is aching,
smile even though it's breaking.
When there are clouds in the sky,
you'll get by
if you smile through your fear and sorrow.
Smile and maybe tomorrow
you'll see the sun come shining through,
for you

Light up your face with gladness,
hide every trace of sadness,
although a tear may be ever so near.
That's the time you must keep on trying.
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
if you just smile

That's the time you must keep on trying.
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
if you just smile

Originally sung by Nat King Cole
Words by John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons
Music by Charlie Chaplin

In the Mirror

Why is it so hard for us to accept ourselves the way we are? Probably because we worry too much about how other people see us. Wouldn’t it be better to concentrate on being true to ourselves, despite what others think?

I am ruled by my emotions. No matter how hard I try to be rational and down to earth, my emotions dictate how I react. Only the other day, someone I care about said they’d like me to take life more in my stride, to come down from the clouds and plant my feet firmly on the ground. I’ve thought about it and decided I can’t be what other people want me to be. I have to be myself. And if calmer means less passionate about life in general, thanks--I’ll pass.

I am willing to change the parts of me that can be changed, the negative parts that impede my growth and progress. But I will always be an idealist, a dreamer. If I lost my idealistic outlook, I’d probably stop writing, or write like a cynic. That’s not to say I’m not open to new ideas and that I don’t see the crude reality around me. I see it and I choose to believe there has to be some way to make it better, to make others understand my point of view.

Once we accept ourselves the way we are, it will be easier to make the changes. It sounds like a paradox, but I believe this with everything inside me. It’s like when we have a bad day and negative vibes overwhelm us. The more we push them away, the harder it is to get rid of them. But if we tell ourselves to have patience, to accept these feelings and that for today this is how we must feel, they start to go away until they disappear altogether.

The less we let ourselves be blocked by our desire for perfection, the more we let ourselves make mistakes, the more we’ll achieve. I love to challenge myself on an intellectual level, to discover new horizons, to learn more and more about writing – a passion I’ve discovered I cannot do without.

I planted some geraniums this morning. I chose five different colours and have them on my balcony. I’m trying to create a pleasant writing place for the summer where I can sit and write on my laptop, away from my internet addiction. Otherwise, I’ll never get anything done. There’s something abut flowers blossoming in a plant after you’ve watered and nurtured it. To me they signify hope.

I’ve planted the seed of positivity in my conscious mind. God willing, I’ll watch it grow.

Venturing into Unknown Territory

Okay, I admit it. The blogging bug got me, too. I've been hearing all about it on the mailing lists I'm on and I finally decided I wanted to be part of this phenomenon. I have difficulty journaling unless I'm in one of life's deep throughs. The result? Each time I go back to read my journal I tend to lose whatever good humor I've managed to work up. Talk about depressing (grin). So...this morning, I woke up with the idea of creating a blog about the positive things that happen to me. There's lots of them out there I'm sure. I just have to slip on my rose-tinted glasses. I'd best go see where I left them last.

Feels good to be here.