buen camino (and a thank-you to Emilio Estevez)

A few weeks ago, I went to see a film called The Way, starring Martin Sheen and written and directed by his son, Emilio Estevez, and haven't stopped thinking about it since.

Sheen plays an American father named Tom who, under tragic and unexpected circumstances, embarks on the Camino de Santiago, also known as "The Way of Saint James." And, of course, what he finds along the journey is also beyond his expectations.

I'm being deliberately vague in my description of the film. This is one of those times where I want to give nothing away. I want you to come to the journey as ill-prepared as Tom.

I had to wait at least a week before The Way came to a theater near me. When I was on Long Island two weeks ago, I tried to find a theater close enough so I could take my mother to see it, but we had no luck. I was disappointed; I knew she would be as profoundly moved by the film as I was, and I so wanted to share the moment with her in person.

The Way contains no CGI. There are no explosions, no vampires, and no American heartthrobs. No sex, no guns, and no killing. You can see why Hollywood wanted nothing to do with this film. This is also not a religious film. But there is death, there is love, there is hope, and there is the journey. Not to mention the scenery. The scenery alone is worth it.

Last night I had the opportunity (and honor) to speak with Emilio Estevez via a "fan phone chat" thanks to a contest posted on the Facebook page The Way The Movie (Go there. Click "Like". Now. Please.) Because there were many in line to speak with him, we were each allowed only one question. However, we were able to listen in on his conversations with the other lucky callers while we awaited our turn.

A friend of mine on Facebook remarked how cool it was that I was about to talk to a celebrity. But when the call ended, I realized that was not the case. I hadn't talked to a celebrity. Kim Kardashian is a celebrity. Justin Bieber is a celebrity. No, I had conversed with an actor, writer, and director. Better yet, a fellow storyteller. We talked about writing, and there was a moment when Emilio spoke about writer's block ("as I'm sure you know all about," he said; oh dear God, yes) when I knew I was talking to a kindred spirit. In fact, I was nodding my head throughout the entire conversation, and not just the one he had with me.

All that was great. But that's not what inspired me to write this post.

For the last few months, I've been going to a park near me with a walking path, three to four times a week, and completing anywhere from three to five miles in one stretch. Lately I've been feeling somewhat like Tom--frustrated, fearful, head down, eyes in front. I've had my iPod Shuffle on, yet my mind has been a one-track-thought, looping incessantly.

This morning was no different. Despite having a great night, I woke up deflated. I walked head down, music on, frustrated, fearful, the whole nine yards. Interestingly, I had forgotten to put on both my watch and pedometer (two days before that I'd forgotten to bring my water bottle, to give you an idea of how distracted I've been lately).

At some point I started to replay not just my conversation with Emilio, but some of the other conversations I'd listened to. I thought about some of the things he said (and I'm paraphrasing, at best):
"I'm interested in making films that are uplifting, that feed the soul."
"I'm still on the journey. I get to re-live it every day by hearing all of your stories and experiences."
"I'm a storyteller."

And then it hit me: I'm on the Camino. Right now.

I turned off my iPod and started listening to the ducks quacking, the leaves rustling, the other walkers chatting while their dogs explored. I took notice of how beautiful the foliage is (it's piquing here in North Carolina), how the sun was dappling on the water, streaming between the branches. I exchanged friendly hellos with other walkers.

And sure enough, the fears and frustrations melted away. I found myself mentally composing again: Ideas for the novel-in-progress (the protagonist is a screenwriter, after all--what kind of movies does he want to make?). Ideas for this blog post. Solutions rather than problems. I even remembered a scene from Ordinary World, when Andi begins to write a novel about two travelers on the Appalachian Trail. Her working title was called Walking. Maybe she was on to something. Or maybe I was when I wrote it.

As writers and storytellers, we're all on the journey. Writers so often walk in solitude. But we need that connection with others to make it from place to place. And not just writers. We all do.

That path in the park I go to may not be the Camino de Santiago, but miracles can happen there. And for seventy to ninety minutes, I can walk. Reflect. Heal. Just be. The path is a circle. I don't have to "get" anywhere.

It's not even about the walking. It's about the journey. It's about the way.

Find a theater. Travel, if you must. Go see this film. Tell your friends about it. Spread the word. Then find your own path.

Thank you, Emilio, for making this film.

Buen Camino!

follow-up to "yep, I'm blog fatigued"

Thank you to all who responded to last week's blog post either here, on Facebook, Twitter, email, or in person. One of the things I learned was that many of you are reading, but not commenting. I can certainly relate to this since I try to keep up to date with certain blogs but don't comment. I also learned that some are not only blog-fatigued, but internet-fatigued in general. Too much screen time, not enough face time. I can relate to that as well. I especially appreciate those who didn't want to see the blog go away, who look forward to my posts and little lessons. Again, thank you all.

Alas, after a week of reflection, I've decided to put the blog on hiatus at least until the end of this year. My priority is getting my novel finished and giving my students the attention they need. Not to worry, you can still catch up with me on Twitter or my Facebook author page. And who knows-- inspiration may strike, and I may have something to post here. I wouldn't be opposed to that.

And so, to repeat once more (sometimes repetition in writing is a good thing), thank you again for your feedback, encouragement, and support. I couldn't have had all these wonderful writing achievements had it not been for you.

See you on the flip side.

yep, I'm blog fatigued

This past week the topic of “blog fatigue” has popped up in various places (Nathan Bransford being the latest), as well as the debate by both agents and authors about whether authors need to start (or continue) blogging. I can certainly relate. Those of you who have been loyal readers of my blog, especially in the last few years, know the identity crisis it occasionally goes through from time to time. Like me, my blog has re-invented itself more than once. But as the woman behind the blog, I am not certain I want to continue putting in the time an effort to keep its identity intact. Yep, I'm blog fatigued.

I have my reasons. For one, keeping a blog is time-consuming. I bow down to those who have consistently, reliably posted every weekday (I’m lookin’ at you, Elspeth!), keeping their posts fresh and fun. I know that even if I can’t read it every day, I at least know it is there. My teaching responsibilities and my writing/author responsibilities (that includes promotion, etc.) count as two full-time jobs. It can take me up to one hour, sometimes longer, to craft one blog post (I should time myself now as I write this one). Doesn’t sound like much time, but for me, it is. I want to put that hour elsewhere, either into reading or writing, or, when the semester starts to get crazy (like now), grading. I’m lucky to complete one post a week, and even that can be difficult to maintain, as you’ve seen. Without consistency, the credibility of the blog suffers.

Another reason I’m considering putting my blog on indefinite hiatus is that I think the internet is oversaturated with blogs, and readers simply can’t get to them all. Take a look at the blog list on this page—I rarely get to read more than two of them on a fairly regular basis. I believe mine is lost in that shuffle, and based on the number of comments I get per blog, I question how many followers are reading my blog on a regular basis. That may be an unfair conclusion to draw, but so be it.

Besides, I don’t think I’m writing anything original. The things I have to say about writing have already been said by Stephen King, Donald Murray, Peter Elbow, Anne Lamott, Nora Ephron, Larry Gelbart, and more. I just try to apply a firsthand perspective and some humor to it. I could easily share some of these tidbits via Twitter or my Facebook author page, and perhaps save a blog post for those times when 140 characters won’t cut it, or when I get really inspired.

I’m a teacher as much as I am a writer. I enjoy sharing stories and ideas about the craft, the process—I thrive in a classroom. There are times when this blog has been a classroom—I think that’s what I had wanted to be when I started it almost five years ago. But I think it’s time for me to find new classrooms, new forums, and, most of all, to do what I want to do more than anything else right now—write my novels.

What has kept me here all this time has been YOU, my dear readers, and I’m hesitant to leave you. I’d like to hear from you. Do you follow my blog on a regular basis but don’t comment? Do you look forward to my blog posts? Are you frustrated by the inconsistency? If I kept the blog going, are there topics you’d like to see me write about that I haven’t, or perhaps topics you’re sick of me writing about? Or are you also suffering from blog fatigue, as I am? I can’t make any promises, but I’d like for you to have a say. Thanks.

stepping out of solitary

A couple of days ago I was struggling to write the final chapter of my novel-in-progress. I knew exactly what the ending was going to be, but tying up the loose ends to get to said ending was proving to be a bit of a challenge. (Part of the problem was that my characters had "forgotten" to an address an issue in prior chapters -- yes, I blame it on them -- and I was attempting to confront it in the final chapter.) And so I did the very things I discussed in last week's blog post -- I sought out my trusted inner circle of writers and talked out some possible scenarios for getting from Point A to Point B.

The very act of explaining the scenario to my fellow writers revealed another oversight that could unravel a whole lot more of the plot. They talked it out with me, gave me ideas, asked questions. They were very helpful and I was so grateful to have them to talk it out with. And yet, the re-writing task felt rather daunting.

That same day, my Why I Love Singlehood co-author happened to ask me how the writing was going, and I shared my frustrations. She invited me to send her the chapter for peer review, and I jumped at the chance faster than I pounce upon a package of Pop Tarts.

Sarah responded to the draft no differently than she would have were it a WILS draft--she asked direct questions, made suggestions for word changes, pointed out problems, and assured me that she wanted to keep reading. She could tell where I'd hit my stride as well as where (and when) I'd hit the wall.

It was like being home.

It's funny how, as a writer, you know the difference between showing and telling. You know the former is preferred over the latter. And yet, you don't seem to realize just how much you're telling rather than showing until someone like Sarah points it out to you. I love her ability to do this for me. I love that she chooses words I wouldn't have thought about, and yet they're perfect. I love that she gets me thinking about ways to tie up those loose ends, and reminds me not to take the easy way out. Best of all, I love that the act of her responding to my draft not only made me eager to get back to work on my chapter, but also re-invigorated her excitement for her own work-in-progess.

Perhaps my writing partner and I were just missing each other and our collaboration. We've enjoyed working solo, but we also enjoyed our collaborative process, and all it gave to us.

Writing is so often a solitary act. But every now and then, we need to step out of that solitary confinement and go out into the community of other writers. As I mentioned in last week's post, there comes a point when we need to share our writing, talk things out, and cheer each other on. Perhaps this is a need that not only applies to writers, but to all human beings--the need to belong, to be part of a group or a community. From one writer to another (and from one human to another), I invite and encourage you to find yours.

the stages of sharing

A question I am often asked is at what point in the process a writer should share his/her writing with others. My answer is that it often depends on the writer, as well as the purpose for sharing at any particular stage.

There are some writers like myself who are quite wary of sharing their writing with anyone, regardless of what stage it's in, draftwise. Actually, I should clarify my own position on this. It's not that I'm reluctant to share my writing with anyone, it's that I'm reluctant to talk about it. With the exception of a small few, I don't even tell people the title of my work-in-progress, much less what it's about. Andre Dubus III likens this to opening the oven door too many times to check on the cookies baking. Imagine yourself showing your friends: "Look at these awesome cookies I'm baking!" as you explain each ingredient and how you measured them out and what you added and what you took out and perhaps you should've used pecans instead of walnuts and you hope they'll turn out chewy and not too crispy, etc. All the while that oven door is open, and the cookies aren't baking, to the point that they never get done. I tend to agree with this. Too much talking about your idea, your story, your character, etc. saps the energy and process of creation. If you've talked it all out, then what reason is there to write the thing?

When I do talk about the content, I'm usually consulting someone for insight or assistance (perhaps it's someone with an expertise that the character shares, or someone who can help me map out a cause-effect scenario), and I keep that inner circle to a bare minimum. Sometimes I just need to talk out character motivation and direction out loud -- just like therapy, the very act of my talking it out reveals the information that I need. My WILS co-author, Sarah Girrell, is a great person to talk to about such things since she has such a keen awareness of my writing style and approach to character, and she's a good listener.

At some point during the drafting process, however, a writer needs feedback. I know all too well how daunting it is to show someone an unfinished draft, especially in the early stages and especially when you know it's not working. You can't help but fear judgment from your peers, judgment that you're really not that good after all. But I also know how useful this feedback can be and how, when coming from the right person, can actually psyche you up to revise, do better, and enjoy it. Again what I show and at what stage, depends on the person and the purpose. I have no problem showing Sarah a rough draft of anything I'm working on (and yet, I still feel the need to apologize profusely to her for how bad it is). For others, I'm more comfortable showing drafts that have undergone some revision. Lately I've been sending a good friend chapters from my work-in-progress after I've revised them, and it's been good for my ego as well as my process--he gives me encouragement and praises me for what works (not having seen them in previous incarnations), and he also points out things I often don't notice, minor details that make a major difference. He's not a professional writer, but he knows me pretty well.

What about writers groups?

I've participated in several writer's groups over the years, and have had both positive and negative experiences with them. The right group will motivate you, keep you accountable, and provide constructive feedback on a regular basis while keeping your ego in check. Another great thing about groups is the aspect of getting to see other people's writing. Aside from the community aspect that is so important for writers (after all writing is, for the most part, a solitary act), seeing other people's drafts can almost always give you insight into your own. By seeing what works and needs work in someone else's draft, you return to your own with new eyes, seeing things you didn't see before, or perhaps seeing them with a fresh perspective, which can only aid the revision process.

And then, there are "beta-readers." A beta-reader reads your "finished" manuscript -- that is, you've revised and edited it considerably -- and provides you with specific feedback to determine what, if any, additional revision/editing needs to be completed before it's ready for submission or publication. This could be as simple as making sure you haven't changed a character's last name halfway through the story or keeping the timeline consistent, or it could be as challenging as re-examining a main character who isn't resonating with readers or eliminating a key scene that doesn't work. For me, beta-readers are crucial to the process, and it's important that you choose your beta-readers carefully. I go with a few people who are either well-read or well-written, people who might have a special expertise related to the story, and those who will give me honest, thoughtful, respectful feedback. It turns out these people are my close friends or my twin brother, but that's not to say you should only show your friends.

Do I take every suggestion and make every change suggested to me? No. Writing is a series of choices--you must be comfortable, confident, and accept the consequences of every choice you make. You'll never be able to please every reader, but you have to be satisfied at the end of the day, when your book is finished, printed, and published, and there are no more opportunities to revise.

And so, I invite you to reflect on these questions: Do you share too much of your work-in-progress, or too little? Are you choosy about with whom you share or talk about your writing? Should you be more choosy, or less? Are you afraid of criticism? Are you too controlling? Is a writer's group right for you? If you're currently in one, is it the right group of people for you? Are you one to provide feedback to others? If so, do you give the kind of feedback that you would want to receive?

I wish you well in all stages of your process.

the reality of writing

I'm sitting in a coffeeshop right now and have been staring at this blank Blogger box for the duration of at least two Beatles songs. (I can't help but sing the harmonies. ) Usually I take the week to think about the upcoming blog post. Sometimes I'll take a book about writing, open it to the table of contents, or just any ol' page, and choose an aspect of the writing process.

But right here, right now, I got nuthin'. Just George Harrison singing "Taxman".

And yet, I don't want to write another post about writer's block, especially mine.

But this is the reality of writing sometimes. Sometimes you sit there and stare at the screen, waiting for inspiration. You think, hope, pray that if you sit still enough, quietly enough, patiently enough, it'll show up.

But sometimes it doesn't. And the next Beatles song plays ("Ahhh, look at all the lonely people..."), and you wonder how the hell this could be happening -- you were on fire yesterday, your hands couldn't keep with your brain.

This is the reality of writing sometimes.

So I decide, I'll just sit here. And I'll finish my vanilla chai and enjoy these Beatles songs, and smile at the thought that they probably had their days in the studio when it just wasn't happening for them, either. I'll type the next word, and the next, and let it be what it is. I'll write another blog post next week, and the week after that.

I'll just keep writing.

10 years: my annual peace message

We remember the day. The dazzling blue sky. The tranquility of the morning, interrupted by a thundering fireball.

We remember the stories of two men carrying a woman in a wheelchair down countless flights of stairs in a burning building, of one person jumping on another to shield him from debris, of strangers in tears and locked in embraces, trying to make sense of the senseless.

We remember firefighters and police officers running into, not away from, the towers as they leaned and shook.

No one stopped to ask whether the person they were helping was Democrat or Republican, liberal or conservative, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or atheist. No one refused to rescue another because of their sexuality or race or stance on abortion. None of those strangers embraced on the condition that they disclose their income.

It was the grace in the midst of the suffering, the realization that we had so much in common. We were not nationalistically united, but collectively humanized. It was the only thing that brought us some comfort. We were all in this together.

Then came the anger.

Anger is a part of the grieving process. It was not wrong to be angry. It was not wrong to want vengeance. Our brothers and sisters and parents and children and spouses and friends and lovers died. Some channeled that anger into art. Into music. Into stories. But the policy, unfortunately, channeled the anger into war. It acted on that desire for vengeance rather than the desire for justice.

Our collective humanity has suffered so much more in the last ten years as a result.

What if the ultimate act of justice was nonviolent? Could that be the way to defeat terrorism? The Civil Rights movement proved it could. Gandhi proved it could.

We need a remembrance for this day. We need a remembrance of our collective humanity, where the lines of religion, gender, race, political ideology, sexuality, and class revealed themselves to be transparent, if existent at all.

My message today is to honor the day by practicing random acts of kindness. Refrain from political rhetoric, jingoistic nationalism, and glorification of war. Read a book. Watch a Frank Capra film. Eat something chocolate. Forgive someone who needs your forgiveness, even if that is someone is you. Apologize to someone you've wronged. Say thank you as much as you can.

I pray you'll find grace in the midst of the sadness and suffering on this day of remembrance, even if just for a moment. I pray you'll reconnect to our collective humanity. I pray you'll know peace. I pray we'll all know peace.

Namaste.