2013/09/22

Story Map: Gold Vein

This month I’m starting back on page one of my novel. The first draft was written by the “seat of my pants” method. I’ve been asking myself, and others, if this is the best way to write a novel? The answer seems to be “yes—for me, for a first novel.” The learning curve has been high. Next came multiple revisions and, now, a detailed story map from the many scribbled notecards. Is my story clear? My story map must illustrate details woven throughout and plots points hitting every story beat. Are my characters alive and showing me the way?
Both my writing and life journey have led me back to my “vein of gold.” This is where my novel-writing process began a little more than three years ago in a workshop I didn’t even expect to attend. Life forces seemed to propel me to a place, a spot in time, an “aha moment.” I trust the process, the journey. September finds me revisiting my gold vein. I have been looking for a sharper understanding of the short phrase that encompasses my viewpoints and actions. This insight informs my creativity. Can I look at my insight in negative words? In a positive words?
The “vein of gold” for a writer comes from Julia Cameron’s book, The Vein of Gold: A Journey to Your Creative Heart. Cameron has a set of ten questions to help reveal the area of study that is a writer’s vein of gold. It is that topic where a writer works with high creativity. Passion. Inspiration. We are told to write what we know. Your gold is what you question, what you know. Start there.

THE VEIN OF GOLD: A JOURNEY TO YOUR CREATIVE HEART by Julia Cameron (Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, 1996).

2013/05/30

Another Writing Day, Another Font


Revising. Rewriting. Finding the real story. The truth.
“All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know”—Ernest Hemingway.
That’s all.
Once there is a first draft, the real writing begins.
Writing workshops provide essential moments to move writing onto the next plateau. There was one workshop in Montana where I worked on the first draft of my first chapter. Everyone was so supportive, but I was at the beginning with the story. That “first” chapter is now gone. In the course of the workshop, I struggled to keep my cabin stove fire going every night. I’d throw in a couple of logs with enough kindling, strike, hover, and toss in “dude dust.” And snuggle under the quilt. At the end of the workshop, I left my cabin door open to the mountain air. The fire crackled into a warm blaze. I learned to search for the right kindling, opportunities, and to breathe.
My writing recipe includes that my story simmer in a cast iron pot on a back burner, waiting for the right seasons. There are always plenty of potatoes, and whatever herbs are growing on my back porch. I think writers are natural gardeners and cooks. Maybe that’s when the art of writing actually happens. Throw in a carrot or turnip every now and then. Linnea’s Illuminated Notes essays seem to spring from time outside, either gardening or walking. Nature reveals one’s own truth, one’s own stories. The vegetables in my pot are those close to the earth. Rewriting a first novel requires a nurturing bubbling of seasons and fixings—to simmer and crackle.
Slipping into a cotton flannel shirt and sitting down at the computer, I remember the "10,000-hour rule.” Outliers: The Story of Success, by Malcolm Gladwell, described many examples of high success achieved after 10,000 hours learning and practicing craft. Time. Writing is a journey without end in challenging self to write truth, sentence after sentence.
Walking with hot mug after hot mug, holding onto thoughts weaving together, I glance out the window beyond my computer screen and sit down on another writing day. While writing, the tops of the crepe myrtles outside have turned white with early summer blooms. New views and another font can mix ideas up enough to clarify editing and discovering the most accurate words. Change fonts to see other ways to create narrative. So I write on . . . to find my own best words and, maybe, one true sentence. Well, at least a few true words.
 

A MOVEABLE FEAST by Ernest Hemingway (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1964). 

OUTLIERS: THE STORY OF SUCCESS by Malcolm Gladwell (Little, Brown & Company, 2008).