Five Years a Writer

The task was to consider a story in list form. What could be told if the standard story structure was eschewed for a leaner form? The idea arose from (what research told me is) the American writer Susan Sontag' s iconic love of lists. She wrote , "Nothing exists unless I maintain it (by my interest, or my potential interest). This is an ultimate, mostly subliminal anxiety. Hence, I must remain always, both in principle + actively, interested in everything. Taking all of knowledge as my province." And, "I perceive value, I confer value, I create value, I even create – or guarantee – existence. Hence, my compulsion to make ‘lists’. The things (Beethoven’s music, movies, business firms) won’t exist unless I signify my interest in them by at least noting down their names." Her lists include these two :       "Things I like: ivory, sweaters, architectural drawings, urinating, pizza (the Roman bread), staying in hotels, paper clips, the color blue, leather belts

...spring will come again... Doing something once is good, but when that one time is the first time we have done it, our results can (usually) benefit from some critical feedback. This goes for just about anything we tackle in our lives, and it goes especially for writers -- this writer doesn't always like it, but she knows more often than not it's true: critique improves the work.  When I submitted my first 101-word fiction story to an online site, I waited months for a response. When it came, it was NO. The editor's feedback stated the timeline was problematic and the emotions were unclear. Harrumph, said I. Closed the message and sulked for a bit.  A while later, I went back to the story and looked with a clear eye and open mind at what I had written. I had two responses: on the emotions, the editor misread the story despite the blatant clue it closes with, but on the timeline, I could grant that greater clarity could be presented with a re-write and different structure.

In this bleak November, when we see so much yet often understand so little, let us do this one thing: Be the best we can be. Be who we are. Be ourselves. This presumes two things, of course: One, that who we are is good not evil and, two, that we know who we are. I’ll leave discussion of the good versus evil option to others more philosophical than I, but the ‘knowing who we are’ is right up my alley. Knowing who we are is not the easiest of undertakings, but it is essential, in my view, to living the life we want to live. Otherwise, we represent Oscar Wilde’s famous quote: “One’s real life is so often the life that one does not lead.” But how do we know what our “real” life is? How and when do we discover this?  It is not the easiest of undertakings, necessarily, for it can take a lifetime to know ourselves. But the more we ask the question, the better chance we have of discovering the answer. I continue to work on my identity of/as writer in my Third Act by cultivating my craft, prac

Numbers are not my thing. I prefer words. I can corral them better, and I understand clearly how their relationship one to the other delivers on the page what I want to achieve for the reader. But, every now and again, numbers are useful. And, as last week’s “Life Sketches in Words” class included the homework to prepare an activity report on my ‘work’ today (with work having any meaning, connotation or context I might wish to give it), I have prepared an activity report on my writing. First, the numbers: I have had 15 pieces of writing published in the last 23 months. By my (wonky) math, that’s about 65% ‘success’ rate, meaning…what? I’m not sure what that percentage actually demonstrates, so I created the graph below with pretty colours that map my publication record in a straightforward way, showing that July 2023 was a banner month with three pieces published — a one-time feat I'm sure, likely not to be repeated.   My record is made up of the following individual pieces, eac

The news is much on my mind these days — what it shows us, how it shows us, when it shows us. The images, the noise, the intensity — it’s all everywhere all the time. As I try to process it, make meaning of it, memories of how it used to be burble in my mind. I remember learning in my masters in applied communication program about how US President Ronald Reagan and his media people took a strategic approach to managing the news of the day. I cannot find the reference for it, but I am pretty sure I remember learning that Reagan’s press secretary knew that if he could get his preferred story to lead the 6 o’clock TV news, the whole country would take its political cue from it: Control the national news, control the national narrative. This reference I did find, from a New York Times story on October 14, 1984 : “Mr. Reagan … and his aides have achieved a new level of control over the mechanics of modern communication — the staging of news events for maximum press coverage, the timing

We have gone electric, with a Chevy Bolt EUV.   Day 1, Saturday : Wake up early to the cat in the distress. Roar her into the vet for an unexpected visit. Wait for the vet to call. Receive that call with relief, as a round of antibiotics should do the trick. That and an expensive extensive ultrasound; booked for Tuesday. Get dropped off at the local bookstore’s community classroom to deliver the 3-hour “What’s Your Story?” workshop; wish Val, my partner, well as she zooms off to pick up the cat. Return home after a successful afternoon. Eat. Fall into bed. Writing? What writing? I talked writing in the workshop; that will have to do. Day 2,  Sunday : Wake up early to finish editing the piece for sharing in that afternoon’s “Spark Your Writing” session. Walk outside in the amazing fall sunshine. Enjoy the session with fellow writers. Enjoy the cat’s returned vitality. Writing? Yes: Done early and shared with the group. Good. Day 3,  Monday : Confirm the landscape company’s schedule for