This blog posts on Mondays. As of 2019 the second Monday of the month is devoted to myworkshop students and anyone else interested in creative writing. You can find my workshop schedule and many more resources for writers on my workshop page.
We have a ways to go still, but the end of the corona virus shut-down is on the horizon! In that out-and-about spirit, here is a post with some of my favorite writing exercises for making good use of your time in airports, train stations, and more.
Five 2 Word Exercises for Practicing Seeing as a Literary Artist in the Airport (or the Mall or the Train Station or the University Campus or the Car Wash, etc.)
Originally posted on Madam Mayo blog, October 10, 2016
Wherever there be a parade of people, there’s an opportunity for a writerly exercise. This is a quick and easy one, or rather, five. The idea is to look– using your artist’s eye, really look at individuals and come up with two words (or 3 or 4 or 7) to describe them.
Yep, it is that easy.
It helps to write the words down, but just saying them silently to yourself is fine, too. The point is to train your brain to pay attention to detail and generate original descriptions. This helps your writing reach beyond stereotypes (e.g., she was a short Asian woman or, he was a tall black man, or she was a blonde— and other such staples of workshop manuscripts) and so offer your reader something more original, more memorable, and definitively more vivid. “The vivid dream,” that’s what it’s all about.
So, there you are in the airport and, as some random person walks by:
1. Come up with one word to describe the shape of this person’s hair; a second word (or two) for the color of his or her shoes, naming a food item of that same color. For example:
knife-like; chocolate pudding
Now I have the raw material to string together a brief but extra-vivid description, for example:
She wore a knife-like bob and slippers the color of chocolate pudding
Again, find one word for the shape of the hair, and one word for the color of the shoes, referring to a food item.
curve; pork sausages
His head was a curve of curls and he wore pinkish clogs, a pink that made me think of pork sausages
sumptuous; cinnamon candy
She had a sumptuous Afro and sandals the red of cinnamon candy
stubbly; skinned trout
He had stubbly hair and tennis shoes the beige-white of skinned trout.
(Is “stubbly” a shape? Oh well! Don’t tell anybody.)
By the way, it doesn’t matter if the words you come up with are any good or even apt; the point is to practice coming up with them. (Why the color of a food item for the color of the shoes? Welllll, why not? Make it the color of some sand or rock, whydoncha.)
2. Is this person carrying anything? If so, describe it with one adjective plus one noun, e.g.:
fat purse
She carried a fat purse
lumpy briefcase
He leaned slightly to the left from the weight of a lumpy briefcase
crumpled bag
She clutched a crumpled bag
Dixie cup
On his palm he balanced a Dixie cup
3. Gait and gaze
loping; fixed to the ground
He had a loping gait, eyes fixed to the ground
shuffling; bright
She had a shuffling gait but bright eyes
brisk; dreamy
Her walk was brisk, her gaze dreamy.
tiptoe; squinting
She seemed to tiptoe, she was squinting at the monitor
4. Age range
older than 10, younger than 14
perhaps older than 20
I would believe 112
obviously in her seventies, never mind the taut smile
5. Jewelry?Tattoos?
a gold watch; a silver skull ring
feather earrings; a toe ring
eyebrow stud; hoop earrings
a wedding band on the wrong finger; an elephant hair bracelet
a tattoo of a bracelet
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When you sit down to write you certainly do not need to use all this detail; again, the point is to generate it in the first place.
So with the benefit of this wild mélange, here’s what I came up with for a fictional character:
She wore a knife-like bob and slippers the color of chocolate pudding. She carried a fat purse. Her walk was brisk, her gaze dreamy. Perhaps she was older than twenty. She had a wedding band on the wrong finger and an elephant hair bracelet.
Hmmm, maybe that’s the opening for a story. Or something.
By the way, if you’re stuck standing around in an airport, or some such place / situation, these little exercises, silly as they may seem, are better for your writing game than ye olde pulling out the smartphone. The former trains your brain to do what a writer naturally does. Scrolling and clicking gives you the shallows, and so makes writing increasingly difficult.
Do you write with a pen or a pencil? That’s the biggest, fattest cliché of a question for a writer. Caramba! I never thought I’d write a post about a pencil.
Backstory: An age ago I read about Palomino Blackwing pencils on Kevin Kelly’s Cool Tools blog, and because I’d found a number of surprisingly excellent recommendations there, I thought hmmm, I just might maybe look for those pencils one of these days…
I wasn’t even writing with a pencil at that point. I had used mechanical pencils on and off in high school and college, but I hated running out of the leads, or as often happened, finding that I had the wrong size. I was all for writing with ballpoint pens, and (long, boring story) I came into a supply of some 250 swag pens, so that lasted me for the past decade…
Two years ago I started writing with a pencil again. I had just happened to be in the stationary supply aisle in my local grocery store when, for no particular reason, except that I fancied their fire-engine red color, I tossed a packet of pencils into the cart. These were nothing special, regular old No. 2 lead pencils. But I soon found that I quite liked writing with a pencil, mainly because I could erase! I erase a lot.
Voilà, also from my local grocery store, my eraser and pencil sharpener!
Thundernation, I think I spent, like, maybe five bucks on all this low-tech equipment. (Casting bronze sculpture, this ain’t…)
So the mammoth news is, last month I finally ordered a dozen Palomino Blackwings, which cost a ridiculous (==put on your seatbelt==) 25 dollars. (That comes to about 2 bucks per pencil.) They arrived in a sleek black box suitable for Swiss truffles.
The Palomino Blackwing pencil is fabulicious! It glides across the page in a way I can only describe as yummy. It seems the secret is the Japanese graphite, “crafted with clay for strength and wax for smoothness.”
Trivial as they may seem, these material matters of writerly routine and comfort– using a special pencil, or, say, a lap desk for a certain task on a certain sofa at a certain time– can make a nifty difference for a writer’s productivity.
So, actually, there just might be something for you to the question, do you write with a pen or a pencil?
Or, on a computer or a typewriter? Or, all of the above?
Coffee or tea?
Classical music or rock music?
Desk facing the window or the wall?
If you are feeling in any way blocked or slow with your process, what might make a refreshing tweak for you?
Like many writers I nurture an oft-adjusted list of possible future writing projects (PFWP). I’ve been at this game for more years than I want to confess, so trust me when I say it’s surprisingly easy to get a sizzling-hot-slam-a-roni of an idea and then… have completely forgotten all about it anywhere from five minutes to five weeks later. But there they all are, captured in ink on my PFPW! (I keep mine in my Filofax. Other writers might prefer to keep theirs in a file on their computer or, perhaps, in a special notebook.)
Right now, February 2020, my PFWP list has four nonfiction books, three novels, a batch of stories, a couple of poems, a couple of translation projects, and an essay of creative nonfiction. Two of these possible future writing projects have been sitting on the list for over a decade. Oh, and just yesterday, I came up with a solidly good idea, if I do say so myself, for a scholarly paper about a cavalry officer’s adventures in the Guadalupe Mountains.
Will I ever get to them all? That is not the question.
My PFWP list is not so much a “to do” list as it is my very own rich and appealing menu. Whenever the time comes that I am ready to commit to a new writing project, I’m never left sitting there, spinning my wheels, wondering, ohmygosh, what can I write now? I simply whip out the PFWP and see which of those many projects feels right for me for a next-action.
All of them are appealing enough to me that were any one the only option I would gladly do it– or else I don’t add it to the list.
Meanwhile, one thing that helps keeps me going with my current writing project– the memoir of Far West Texas— is my NTDN list, that is, my list of the things Not To Do Now. These are things I feel pressured by others to do; or tempted against my better judgement to do; or expect / want to do at some point, but not now– “now” being the horizon for my current writing project.
TOP 5 ON MY NTDN LIST
(1) Download Whatsapp Nope, I have never downloaded Whatsapp. Bless you, my many friends and relatives who have asked me for my Whatsapp, because I love you! I do want to be in touch, I do want to see your photos! But it’s either my book gets written + I answer email or I do Whatsapp + I answer email. I have only 24 hours in the day. May I be blunt? Would you really wish for me to not write my book?
(2) Get a TV I gave away my TV an eon ago. I had a Netflix subscription once, but it so long ago I have forgotten when it was that I canceled it. Bless you all who can spend hours watching TV! But I don’t, I can’t, and that’s that!
(3) Participate on Social Media FaceBook deactivated in 2015. LinkedIn minimal. Instagram zip. Twitter I’ve been on since the get-go, but for a long while now I only tweet the link to the once-a-month Q & A on this blog, and on very rare occasion something similar, as a courtesy to that writer and anyone else mentioned on my blog. I consider Twitter so toxic that when I log on I use a timer to keep the whole interaction under 3 minutes. Why so toxic? Let me count the ways… but that would be another blog post. Twitter is just evil.
(4) Pilates class I recently gave up my weekly pilates, a wonderful class. I do think physical activity is important, but right now I don’t want to have to take time to get in my car and drive somewhere else and on a rigid schedule (um, the class doesn’t wait for me…). I’d prefer to take classes with a real person, but again, there are only 24 hours in the day, and to make time for writing I have to let some things go. I do take walks everyday, and weather permitting, I bike, and I also do yoga every day, both on my own, and with online yoga classes which, by their nature, commence, pause, and conclude in my own home at my own convenience.
(5) Teach a writing workshop This is terribly tempting because I love teaching writing workshops. I am always charmed, challenged, and inspired by my students! And I believe my own writing is much better for having taught various workshops over so many years. But right now I need the time and creative energy for my book. Therefore, barring a possible mini-conference workshop next fall, I am not teaching again until (maybe) later this year. In the meantime, I console myself with writing a once-a-month workshop post for this blog.
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My NTDN list is actually far longer, and it includes everything on my PFWP list, by definition. But you get the idea.
Of course, each writer’s PFWP and NTDN lists are going to be as unique as his or her fingerprints. My point is not that the items on my lists would be good for you or anyone else, but simply that, in my experience, too few writers trouble to make these lists in the first place—and then wonder why they feel at a loss about what to write, and then even when they do know what they want to write, they often find themselves spending their time and mental energies in ways that do not support their writing.
If you haven’t already made your PFWP list, simply muse: What writing projects sing (or whisper) to you as possibilities? Be sure to keep a notebook and pen with you at all times. Your best ideas just might come to you when you’re out and about. Or taking a shower. Or folding laundry.
And as for a NTDN list, what are some activities that might tempt you, or be warmly or even hotly encouraged by the people around you, but that, on reflection, you would consider a fatal drag on your time and mental energies for accomplishing your current writing project(s)? Or what are some things that you would be delighted to do, just not now?
Pictured below, three birds with one stone, as it were, my writing assistant Uliberto Quetzalpugtl demonstrates Rattner’s science-based technique #25 “Sleep” and #26 “Nap” and #28 “Lie down or recline.”
#1 “Designate a creative space.” This winter 2020 my designated create space–I call it my office–is a room separated by a sliding door from the dining room. Plan B is my local coffee shop. In the past I have used a spare bedroom; a foyer (…that was challenging…); and a converted breakfast room. It is certainly possible to use a corner of the dining table; a breakfast table; a lap desk (taken to a sofa, chair, or bed); a table in a coffee shop; a carrel in a library… and so on. The point is, don’t be vague about where you’re going to do your writing. Designate it.
However, lovely as it may be for writer to have a large, totally private, and well-appointed office, it is by no means necessary. My advice would be, do your best to designate a creative space, whatever that best option may be for you at the moment, and then, get to the writing.
Yes, I find that does help, as Rattner says science confirms, to go to the same place each time you intend to write. But that isn’t necessary, either.
Here (below) my writing assistant models the big, sloppy Ikea sofa we use for lying down and, Rattner’s science-based technique #12 Choose curved over straight— the curved typing table; and #9 Be flexible–“Get the most creative bang for the buck by choosing furnishings and objects that move, change shape, or perform multiple functions”– note that the typing table has a drop-leaf, and note also, on the sofa under the plaid blanket, my lap desk. (Read more about the lap desk here.)
And my assistant also models #15 Get with your pet. “Studies indicate that having an animal friend nearby improves mood and mental dexterity.” (Uliberto Quetzalpugtl says, BARK BARK!)
“Studies indicate that having an animal friend nearby improves mood and mental dexterity.”
Here, below, Uliberto Quetzalpugtl models scientific technique #16 Make it beautiful. (Is my folded scarf used as the typewriter’s dust cover not beautiful?) And, simultaneously, #2 Look at something blue. Rattner writes: “Who would have thought that merely being exposed to certain colors could subliminally improve creative performance? Yet that’s precisely what researchers concluded after conducting several laboratory experiments measuring the impact of color on cognitive processing.”
More of Rattner’s techniques for sparking creativity that were new for me included:
#24 Pick up the scent— I’ll try rosemary or anise tea. (What might work for you?)
#29 Make a fire. Or look at a picture of one. I googled “YouTube virtual fireplace” and this came up:
Très eco-eco (economical & ecological)– if you don’t take into account the server farm!
In sum, I found this a fun and thought-provoking book, and I expect I’ll be going through it many a time again.
BUT A CAVEAT
While there is a wealth of practical and easily affordable advice to glean from Rattner’s book, don’t let the slick photos of high-end design intimidate you into accepting another reason to procrastinate. (My creative space doesn’t look like that, so…) No creative space is ever perfectly perfect, and indeed, some of the most wonderful literature we have was produced in godawful conditions.
If you want to have written something, you just have to sit down (or stand) and do the work. Last I checked, the Muse may whisper an idea or three, but magic elves don’t get it done for you in the wee hours of the morning. I would suggest that improving your creative space best goes into the category not of writing time but quality leisure time, the importance of which I and some others have more to say here.
We writers don’t just live in our heads, of course: we all have bodies. If we are uncomfortable physically in any way it is not impossible to write, but it doesn’t help! Count me a big fan of Annie Thoe’s YouTube channel “Sensing Vitalty,” which is chock full of her free, easy to follow, and highly effective Feldenkrais exercises. A recent one she offers is this simple exercise to relieve shoulder and neck pain––which we all get from sitting scrunched in front of a computer screen, no?
Like all Feldenkrais exercises I find this one a little strange, even counterintuitive, but nonetheless wonderfully effective. This one takes about 12 minutes and you can do it while sitting in your writing chair.
Special Note: I ever and always invite comments at the end of each blog post but for this post in particular I would especially like to hear comments and any tips from those of you who have been wrestling with your own working libraries. (It strikes me that in all the many writers’ workshops and writers’ conferences I have attended over the years I have never seen this vital practical necessity addressed. And what I have seen in terms of advice from librarians and personal organizers is not quite apt for a working writer’s needs. Have I missed something?)
Why a Working Library?
Why should you have a working library? Well, dear writerly reader, maybe you shouldn’t. It depends on what you are writing.
Poetry or, say, a novel of the imagination might require nothing more than a dictionary and thesaurus–– and of course, you could access those online. Perhaps, should you feel so moved, for inspiration you might keep a shelf or two of books by your favorite writers, and perhaps another shelf devoted to books on craft, on process, etc. Or not.
The need for a working library arises when you attempt to write historical fiction or in some genre of nonfiction, for example, a biography, history, or travel memoir. And the problem is–– if I can extrapolate from my own experience––which perhaps I cannot–– but I’ll betcha 1,000 books and three cheesecakes with a pound of cherries on top that I can––you are going to ginormously underestimate how fast and how very necessarily your working library expands, how much space it gobbles up, and how quickly any disorganization unravels into further disorganization, and to muddle the metaphor, makes a clogged up mega-mess of your writing process.
you are going to ginormously underestimate how fast and how very necessarily that working library expands, and how much space it gobbles up, and how quickly any disorganization unravels into further disorganization, and to muddle the metaphor, makes a clogged up mega-mess of your writing process.
In short, by underestimating the importance of first, acquiring, and second, adequately shelving, and third, maintaining the organization of this collection, writing your book will turn into a more frustrating and lengthy process than it otherwise would have been. (Trust me, it will be frustrating and take forever and ten centuries anyway.)
Yes, I know about www.archive.org–– I oftentimes consult books there–– and I have accumulated a collection of Kindles. I also make use of public and university libraries when possible. (There is also the question of keeping paper and digital files, which would merit a separate post.) Nonetheless, my experience has been that a working library of physical books at-hand remains by far, as in, from-here-to-Pluto-and-back, my most vital resource.
About My Working Libraries, In Brief
First understand: I am not a book hoarder! When I do not have a compelling reason and/or space to keep a book, off it goes– to another reader or to donation. (See my previous post “How to Declutter a Library.”) I don’t live in a house the size of an abandoned aircraft hanger; it would be impossible for me to keep every book I’ve read in my life and still find my way in and out of the front door. Aside from a handful (literally maybe 10) that I hold onto for sentimental reasons, the books I keep for the long term I have a precise reason to keep: to assist me as I write my books. And I maintain them scrupulously organized as working libraries.
No, I do not have OCD. Scrupulous organization is terrifically important! My motto: A book I cannot find is a book I do not have. Disorganization is a form of poverty.
A book I cannot find is a book I do not have. Disorganization is a form of poverty.
Over many years of writing several books, each with its own working library, and also teaching, and so gathering an ever-growing working library on craft and process, I have accumulated a daunting number of books, and to keep them all accessible I have had to tackle some eye-crossing challenges. (Add to that moving house a few times in mid-book and, boy howdy, did I get an education in organizing!)
My books for which I assembled and continue to maintain working libraries include:
The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire This working library is more substantial, as it should be for a novel based on the true story set during Mexico’s most complex, tumultuous, and thoroughly transnational episode. (So why did France invade Mexico and install the Austrian Archduke as emperor and then why did the latter make a contract with the family of Mexico’s previous emperor giving them the status of the Murat princes?!!! It took me several years to get my mind around it all…) Some very rare Maximiliana.
World Waiting for a Dream: A Turn in Far West Texas (in-progress) I call this one my “Texas Bibliothek.” This one is just… sorry for the cliché… GIANT. Texans are far more literarily industrious than most people imagine, and there is endless celebration of and controversy about their culture and history. Some of the works published just in the last decade are paradigm-smashers. I’ve had a heap of very necessary reading to keep up with… Plus understanding Far West Texas requires fathoming what surrounds it– New Mexico to the west, Coahuila and Chihuahua to the south, the heartland of Texas and Gulf to the east, the Llano Estacado to the north…and the larger geological, geopolitical, and cultural context. Oh, and all about oil!! This has been my most challenging book yet. Wish me luck.
Plus, as mentioned, I maintain a working library on the craft of writing and creative process which I consult for both my writing workshops and my own writing. Accumulated over some twenty years, this is a substantial working library, but it is the smallest. I haven’t counted but I’d say this has some 250 books.
(Did I mention, I’m not 25 years old? If I live to 100… uh oh…)
Why, pray tell, keep all of these books, and even add to the collections, year after year?
(1) I often reference works in one collection for another another book (for example, in writing my book on Far West Texas I have consulted works in all four collections), and I expect this will continue with the projects I am contemplating for the future.
(2) I plan to see more of my books published in translation and so will require consulting some of the original texts (many in Spanish, some in German, a few in French) from which I quoted. This may or may not be an issue for you. But if it is, take heed. It can be crazy difficult and expensive to track some of these things down later.
(3) I often receive email from researchers, both amateur and academic, and I am delighted to assist, when I can, in answering their questions and for this oftentimes I need to reference a book or three in my collections. And what goes around comes around.
(4) I do not live near a relevant library and even if I did, many of the works in my collections are nonetheless exceedingly difficult to find. Plus, even if a nearby library were to have each and every book I would want to consult when I want to consult it, it’s a bother and a time-mega-suck to have to go to a library and call up so many books.
Yes, my working libraries take up a lot of space. This cranks my noodle. But a painter needs an atelier, no? Um, you aren’t going to bake bread in your lipstick compact.
Tips for Your Working Library (Future Reminder to Take My Own Advice)
With all due respect for the operations of institutional libraries, earning a degree in Library Science is not on my schedule for this incarnation. But as a writer with my own absolutely necessary working libraries, none of them large enough in scale to require professional cataloging, yet each nonetheless larger than I was prepared to manage efficiently, alas….. painnnnnNNNfully…. I have learned a few things. What I offer here for you, dear writerly reader, is not the advice of a knowledgeable librarian but what I, a working writer having muddled through writing several books, would have told myself, had I been able to travel back in time… to the late 1990s.
(1) If you have good reason to think you’ll need it, don’t be pennywise and pound foolish, buy the book! To the degree possible, it is better to buy a first edition in fine condition; however, cheap used / ex-library copies are fine for a working library. Many ex-library books in good condition cost just pennies. (Or did you plan to write an sloppily researched, amateurish book?)
(2) Go head and mark up those ex-library books and mass-market paperbacks, but if you happen to have in your hands a hardcover first edition in fine condition, take care! Keep the dust jacket, protect it from any bumps and the sun, and if you must mark the pages, use only very light erasable pencil. Drink your coffee and eat your snacks at another time, in another room. (I shall spare you the super sad episodes…)
P.S. More tips on care and preservation of books here.
(3) You will need bodacious amounts of bookshelf space. And more after that, and even more after that…. If you do not have it, make it. If you cannot make space, then probably you should reconsider embarking on this type of writing project. I am not kidding.
(4) For keeping the books organized you will need a system that is at once flexible, easy-peasy, and supremely useful to you. It may not make sense to anyone else, but Anyone Else is not the name of the person writing your book.
It may not make sense to anyone else, but Anyone Else is not the name of the person writing your book.
For example, for my Texas Bibliothek, right now I have about 30 categories, each with from 10 to approximately 50 books in each. Each category I have defined to my liking, broad enough that it doesn’t occupy more than a brain cell or two to figure out, yet narrow enough that I don’t need to bother organizing the books alphabetically.
For my writing workshop working library however, I do have the craft and process books organized by author alphabetically. I have never been able to find a reasonable way–– reasonable for me––to break down the collection beyond books on “Craft” and on “Process.”
(5) Of course, some books could fall into more than one category, e.g., Jeff Guinn’s Our Land Before We Die: The Proud Story of the Seminole Negro could be in U.S. Military; African American/ Seminoles; Texas History; Regional History / Fort Clark; US-Mexico Borderlands. (I chose African American / Seminoles. But I might change my mind.) For such endless little categorization conundrums, well, say I, just apply deodorant and do what seems most sensible to you. You can always change your mind, and you probably will.
To make sure you do not overlook important works in your collection, as you work with your library, and as you dust it, make an effort to let your eyes rove over the whole of it.
(6) Dust regularly using an ostrich feather duster. Seriously, go for the ostrich.
(7) For the shelves use BIG, READ-ICU-LOUS-LY EASY-TO-READ LABELS. I print these out on my computer, cut and tape them to index cards, and tape them on the shelves.
(8) Key is to be able to not only find, but lickety-split, without a thought––look, Ma, no brain cells!–– reshelve any and all books in your working library. Institutional libraries have catalogs you can consult and usually affix a sticker with the catalog number on each book’s spine, but for you, with your writer’s working library, this is probably going to be too fussy a process. And anyway you don’t want to be sticking anything on a rare or first edition book unless it has a mylar cover, in which case, you could put the sticker on the mylar cover. Mylar covers are nice… buying more is on my “to do ” list… but….
What works splendidly well for supersonic reshelving is a labeled bookmark. Yep. It’s this simple.
(9) To label each bookmark, get a typewriter because, for all the many other good reasons to use a typewriter, you can quickly type up legible labels on your bookmarks.
(=You can stop laughing now=)
Trying to make labels for bookmarks using a wordprocessing program and printer will give you a dumptruck of a headache. I used to be a fan of labelers such as the Brother Labeler. No more. Batteries, replacement cartridges… fooey. Yes, using your own handwriting may be the easiest of the peasiest, but it will slow you down when you are trying to reshelve books because the eye groks machine-written words so much faster.
Get the typewriter! A workhorse if you can, such as a refurbished Swiss-made Hermes 3000 from the 1960s-1970s.
(1o) To make the bookmarks, use paper strong enough for the bookmark to always stand straight. I cut up left over or ready-to recycle file-folders for this purpose.
(11) To identify each working library (should you have more than one) place a sticker or stamp on each bookmark.
(12) Another advantage of these plain paper bookmarks is that you can easily change them. Just cut off the top and type in the new label! As you delve deeper into researching and writing your book, you will undoubtedly find it convenient to both add to and reconfigure the categories in your working library, and perhaps several times.
(13) Further consideration: While many book collectors write their name in the book or paste in a book plate, I stopped doing this several years ago because I found this made it more difficult for me to let go of books that, after all, I wanted to declutter. I might change my mind about this. A custom-made ex-libris has always seemed to me a lovely idea. It’s in my Filofax for my old age when, maybe, I live in a house the size of an aircraft hangar.
(14) Cataloging? Nah. Even with a wall or six or seven or ten filled from floor to ceiling with books you are still far from operating at the scale of an institutional library. A catalog, whether low-tech or high-tech, will take too much time to figure out and maintain (ugh, more glitch-ridden software updates). Ignore anyone who tries to sell you library cataloguing software. Seriously, trying to do it digitally in some-fangled DIY way may also end up proving more trouble for you than it’s worth. (… cough, cough… ) With adequate bookshelf space (see tip #3, above) and meaningful categories with BIG, RIDICULOUSLY EASY-TO-READ labels (see tip #7, above) you can grok your whole enchilada at a glance, or two.
However, it may make sense to catalog the books when you get to your long-term plan (see point 16 below).
(15) Ignore ignorant people who tut-tut that you should declutter your books. Have they ever tried to write a book? No, they have not. Smile sweetly as you shoot them eye-daggers.
(16) Make a long-term plan for your books because obviously, at some point, perhaps when you move into smaller digs for one reason or another, or you die, they have to go. If you are incapacitated or dead, these working libraries may prove a heavy burden for your family, literally, figuratively, and financially. Chances are your family members won’t have a clue what to do with them, nor the time, and possibly, alas, they may not even care. I aim to write more on this sticky wicket of a subject later; for now, I point you to a fantastic resource, the Brattlecast podcast #57 on “Shelf Preservation” from the Brattle Book Shop.
What has been your experience with your working libraries? Do you have any tips to share?
As I stress in my creative writing workshops, it has been my consistent experience that to stay limber and working fluidly I need to regularly read outside my comfort zone. And I mean, read outside my comfort zone as a writer, pencil in-hand.
(Is this practice right for you as a creative writer? Well, I don’t know your innermost inner artist, nonetheless, I’d bet my three typewriters that he or she would find it bongo-drums + a B12 shot for creative energy. And I’d bet my laptop, too.)
Reading as a writer, as I detailed in this previous blog post, and this entire blog about War & Peace, is a fundamentally different endeavor than reading to pass the time, or, say, reading something just because all your friends and the people you presume to impress have read it, or reading because your book club picked it, or for some scholarly purpose, or whatever combination thereof.
Reading as a writer is reading to identify what precisely works here? What precisely is ineffective? And precisely why this effective, or that ineffective?
In short, there are rafts of techniques and I consider it essential to be able to identify them when they are used to effect– or could have been.
On other words, if a piece of writing sings to you, it is in no way helpful to you as a writer to get all awesomed out, saying things like, golly wow, no wonder he won the Nobel Prize, little ol’ me, why, I could never do that!
Well, ick. Stoppit. You can do this.
You need to ask, precisely why do I find this bit good? How, precisely, did the writer achieve this effect? What specifically can I learn here?
Ditto, if you find a piece of writing bad. Why is it bad? What specifically can I learn from this?
Reading as a writer, pencil in hand, I’ll read in my comfort zone– writers such as Willa Cather, Tolstoy, Edith Wharton, et al. But for creative inspiration I’ll also take a more than occasional jog outside my comfort zone: a spree on books about UFOs, gun mags, a guide to caring for your iguana (I do not have an iguana, I never had an iguana and I do not care to have an iguana, but anyway now I know a lot about iguanas), and (this comes with the territory of writing about Far West Texas) self-published cowboy memoirs.
Add to that ever-expanding list–this week only!–fashion blogs.
(What’s outside your comfort zone, dear writerly reader?)
OK, yes, a lot of the writing in these out-of-my-comfort-zone genres tends to be, shall we say, pedestrian. I cannot say anything in the how-to-care- for-iguanas genre, to take one example, would merit quoting for its lyrical qualities… but I may well have a character in my next novel who knows a heap about iguanas, and his green monster, Peps, who likes to hide his stash of flies under the sofa…
But sometimes I am surprised. I am always open to being surprised!
Fashion bloggers… There’s a heap to say about those fashion bloggers… but describing that colorful subculture and its effervescent personalities is not my purpose here. What I want to spotlight in this month’s workshop post is the vervy-good writing in Vancouver Canada-based artist Melanie Kobayashi’s fashion blog, Bag and a Beret.
To wit:
Sometimes I am giddy with the idea of throwing everything out, O-U-T, out! No more clutter, clenched sphincters, and squinty eyes. Instead, a confounding profound serenity. Like the scent of jeans fresh from the freezer. Clouds would be fluffier. Doritos would be healthier. I’d take up yoga, do downward dogs and sideways cows, and start saying all those namasty things. And drink green fluids with stringy bits. —Is That An Alien in My Closet? Melanie Kobayashi, Bag and a Beret, March 4, 2016
Because this is a workshop post, I’m going to get all workshoppy now and pick this apart. Which kills the fizz in it, I know, but the purpose here is to identify some of the poetic techniques Kobayashi uses that might well serve you for your writing.
Actually there is a whole bouquet of literary techniques in Kobayashi’s paragraph. To point out just four of the techniques:
(1) She varies her syntax– such delicious, jiggy energy! Note her short, punchy sentences: Clouds would be fluffier. Doritos would be healthier... And drink green fluids with stringy bits.
(2) Like the finest of poets Kobayashi gives us specific detail that appeals to the senses: Texture (fluffier clouds); temperatures (“jeans fresh from the freezer”); tastes (Doritos, “green fluids with stringy bits”)
Another example of vervy-good writing from Melanie Kobayashi’s blog:
Alert, another face pose! This aluminum-foilesque blazer is exactly my style. I adore the humongous acrylic buttons. Shelley grabbed it for a try-on on our way out. The way I farked this photo reminds me of a popular Canadian TV ad where a couple heats their home so hot that it melts cheese. In this case, I would be the potato. —Friends Galore and Imaginations Gone Wild, Melanie Kobayashi, Bag and a Beret, June 29, 2019
And:
Today I feature alluuuuring, not-quite-lurid, languid bedroom attire as corporate pyjama daywear, or, as I shall call it, Bed to Boardroom. “Oh James, bring me the latest numbers so I can calculate how bad I am at math. On second thought, skip the math and let’s go straight to drama, English literature. Bring me another martini and wheel in the divan.” —Corporate Pyjama Daywear, Leopard-Style Melanie Kobayashi, Bag and a Beret, October 21, 2017
There’s a lot of music in this quote:
(1) stretching and playing with words, e.g., “alluuuuring”
Yet another example from Kobayashi’s Bag and a Beret:
So I wore this vintage barkcloth maxi the other day. You may have seen it before – but not with my lovely lava pendant paired with that other one, looking very, dare I say, fly? And bracelets. I don’t wear them often because my wrists are small and the bangles clamp my hands when they dangle down. So here we have a Hawaiian-made dress with lava jewels and hiking boots (with fringe and platforms, an improvement on the standard fare). Do I sense a pattern here? Why, of course – I should be a vulcanologist! It’s so clear now. Open your mind. Let your clothes guide you!! —Let Your Clothes Choose Your Profession Melanie Kobayashi, Bag and a Beret, July 1, 2015
Just a few of many things I could note in this are her use of alliteration; questions; and splendid use of specific sensory detail (e.g., “And bracelets. I don’t wear them often because my wrists are small and the bangles clamp my hands when they dangle down.”)
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More!!
This is a project-ish project– paring down my clothing and focusing more on earrings and suchlike, meaning tights, hair thingies, face paint, maybe shoes. I am looking forward to the challenge but this is mainly an attempt to free up more space in my space-challenger home. In fact, I bought some Ziploc Space Bags (in tropical colours), which are vacuum-resealable bags capable of squishing a huge pile of clothing into one fruity brick. Spacey, baby, spacey. —Why Do Laundry When You Have Scissors? Melanie Kobayashi, Bag and a Beret, February 17, 2014
This past spring I attended theAssociated Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) annual conference and bookfair, where I read from Meteor, my book of poetry, as part of the Gival Press 20th anniversary celebration. AWP is not for the FOMO-ly challenged. In the crowd of 15,000+ conference-goers I missed many events and many friends, among them the poet, playwright and translator Zack Rogow. And it didn’t seem at all right to have missed Rogow for, the last time I was at AWP, it was to participate on his panel with Mark Doty and Charles Johnson, “Homesteading on the Digital Frontier: Writers’ Blogs,” one of the crunchiest conference panels ever. (You can read the transcript of my talk about blogs here.)
Should you try to attend AWP next spring 2020 in San Antonio? Of course only you know what’s right for you. But I can say this much: AWP can be overwhelming, an experience akin to a fun house ride and three times through the TSA line at the airport with liquids… while someone drones the William Carlos Williams white chickens poem… AWP can also prove Deader than Deadsville, if what you’re after is, say, an agent for your ready-for-Netflix thriller. The commercial publishing scene it ain’t.
On the bright side, however, Zack Rogow attends AWP. He is one of the most talented and generous poets and translators I know. Watch this brief documentary about his life and work and I think you’ll understand why I say this:
Rogow is also a teacher of creative writing, and for several years now he’s been blogging steadily with his “Advice for Writers.” It’s a terrific resource. I hope he’ll turn it into a book–the moment he does I’ll add it to the list of recommended books for my workshop.
Herewith a degustation of Rogow’s extra-crunchy posts:
August 2019 finds me on vacation. Nonetheless, each Monday this month I will be offering posts from the archive (as usual, look for a workshop post on the second Monday, Q & A with a fellow writer on the fourth Monday).
PODCASTING FOR WRITERS: TO COMMIT, OR NOT (OR VAGUELY?)
Now that I’m working on my 54th podcast, I’ll admit, I love podcasting almost as much as writing. Starting back in 2009 I’ve podcasted many of my lectures, readings, and other events for my books, plus I created and continue to host two podcast series, “Marfa Mondays” and “Conversations with Other Writers.” It remains just as awesome to me now as it was with my first podcast that, whether rich or struggling, famous or new, we writers can project our voices instantly all over the world, while making them available to listeners at any time.
But first, what is a podcast? I often say it’s an online radio show. But the truth is, it’s a much wilder bouquet of possibilities.
A “podcast” is just an online audio (and, less commonly, video) file. It could be of a deeply probing interview; of a bunch of kids singing “Kumbaya”; or of say, you reading your epic poem about belly dancing in the grocery store. It could be a single file—your reading at your local bookstore on March 17, 2015, or, say, a radio show-style series of interviews with fellow horror novelists, one posted each Saturday upon the toll of midnight.
There may be an eye-crossing number of ways to categorize these things, but if you’re writer thinking about getting started with podcasting, I would suggest that you first clearly identify the level of commitment you are willing to make to your listeners who— lets hope—are going to be eager for your next podcast.
1. No Commitment
This would be a single, stand-alone podcast. Such is my first, which is simply a recording of my lecture at the Library of Congress back in 2009 about the research behind my novel, The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire.
I call my podcast series “Conversations with Other Writers” an “occasional series” because, as I state on the webpage, I post these “whenever the literary spirits move me and the planets align.” Right now, that’s about once a year… maybe. By the way, I just posted the eighth podcast in this series, a conversation with historian M.M. McAllen about a mind-bogglingly transnational period in Mexican history.
This would be my “Marfa Mondays Podcasting Project,” 24 podcasts to run from January 2012 – December 2013, apropos of my book in-progress on Far West Texas. Not all but most of these are of interviews, and although I have posted 20 so far, my self-imposed deadline of December 2013 did not hold, alas. For reasons too complex to go into here, in the middle of this project, I went and wrote a biography. And that’s OK. I may be slow, but with only four more podcasts to go, I’ll get there soon enough!
This would involve high production values, a regular, strictly respected, and ongoing schedule, and would surely necessitate and perhaps even command fees from listeners by way of “memberships.” Into this last straight jacket of a category I quake to venture, for I really do love writing more than I love podcasting.
Do not be deceived! Rest, this cool-blue paperback featuring a beach chair, may look like your garden variety “self-helpie,” the sort of reading I think of as Airport-Bookshop-Fluffo. I confess to slumming in this genre when, on long flights, I feel almost brain-dead enough to sink to watching the in-flight movie or even… People Magazine. (….Nooooo!!!! Wylie Coyote scream wisps into the abyss…)
But seriously, Rest by Alex Soojung-Kim Pang, a PhD in the history and sociology of science, is another level. To my surprise, I found myself reading Rest with a highlighter. And then I read it again. ASAP it will appear on the recommended reading list for my writing workshop.
The take home point is that, strange as this may sound, rest is a skill that can be cultivated. And, that for a richly creative and satisfying life, we need to treat rest as of equal importance to work itself.
Plus, Pang quotes Salvador Dalí, which I found enchantingly hilarious.