It's been a month since, other than grocery and pharmacy clerks, I have socialized in person with anyone other than my cat. He only talks when he's hungry or he wants me to sit on the couch so he can lie in my lap. Otherwise he ignores me. He's a cat, so he's doing his job.
How am I coping? As best as I can.
In every country and city in the world we're all living this surreal existence, yet there are some things to enjoy about it.
Luckily I love to read, and I'm catching up on books I forgot I had. I've also downloaded a few audio books to listen to while I take a daily walk. Luckily the weather in Seattle has been unseasonably pleasant and sunny this week.
Cooking. I'm not a great cook, but I'm trying to make more than omelettes and oatmeal.
Live TV is truly live. .
Because I'm home all day, like many people out there, I watch more daytime TV talk shows, many newscasters and hosts now broadcast from their homes. I enjoy peeking inside celebrities houses. It makes them more real, more accessible.
Kelly and Ryan they're much less obnoxious.
As a group onstage together the hosts of THE VIEW tend to talk over each other. But from home, the show is easier to watch. Whoopie and Sunny are still pleasant. Surprisingly, Meghan McCain is far less toxic, but Joy Behar, who I usually enjoy, is annoying.
The ladies of THE TALK. are still fun to watch, but oddly, ELLEN isn't as funny without an audience. She falls flat talking to just one guest at a time.
Live concerts from musicians' living rooms demonstrates who has true talent without the flashy special effects, costumes, and electronic enhancement. The music is unplugged. Recently, watching Keith Urban from his home felt as if he was playing a song just for me.
Zoom once you get past the learning curve of navigating the platform, zoom meetings make life feel connected less lonely and prevents me from spending all day wearing pajamas.
Last night I attended a Zoom happy hour. On Tuesday I taught a writing workshop via Zoom, and I have several meetings coming up next week.
I've notice a spike in interaction on Facebook Phone calls and Face Time are also nice. Hearing another's voice is less mechanical than a text.
My house is clean! (Except for my home office.)
I turn off the news. I limit myself to one hour a day: half hour of local, and a half hour of national, and press the mute button when the liar in Chief comes on to spew his incoherent nonsense. And now the government wants to de-fund the USPS? How can the world's most powerful nation not have postal service? Don't get me started...I plan to start writing a lot more letters.
Twitter and Instagram also keep me connected. Tonight I posted a video on how to trim your own bangs. https://twitter.com/LauraMoewriter/status/1249155608575643648?s=20
This week I've finally been able to focus enough to write. It's not good writing, but at least words are flowing.
Hope you're having a happy quarantine.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Changing the Mindset
The other day I went to Trader Joe's. Like many groceries, a sign outside announced limited hours. While flowers abounded, the normally well stocked shelves were pretty much bare. Smartly, Trader Joe’s limited the number of each item type one can buy to two to avoid hoarding. But there wasn’t much left to buy.
In produce, I was able to find salad, bananas, and one of the last bags of navel oranges. No toilet paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer, and hand balm remained in the health and beauty aisle, and most of the hand soap was also gone. Of the baking products, where chocolate chips, flour, and sugar should have been the shelves were stripped. The only flour left was almond flour. At 7.98 a bag I figured I didn’t need to bake anything. I had eggs at home, so I didn’t buy one of the half dozen left in the case. I’d hoped to find Havarti cheese, which I did, but it was lite. Lite Havarti is better than no Havarti.
At a nearly empty freezer case I picked up the last bag of frozen corn. All the frozen fruit, broccoli, green beans, and mixed veggies were gone. Further down in the empty freezer case I looked to see if they had my favorite: bean taquitos. “They’re sold out of all my usual favorites,” I said aloud. A young man standing at a social distance from me said, “I guess this a good time to try something new.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” I picked up one of the three remaining packages of Cheese enchiladas. I’d never noticed them before amid the normally overflowing freezer case. Other than the enchiladas having a high fat content, they’re tasty, and will make a good temporary substitute until they restock my bean taquitos.
Right now, with social isolation, we’re all trying something new, seeking ways to maintain connections while also social distancing. It’s a massive reboot of our personal systems. I’m cleaning our junk drawers and cabinets and dusting more often. Today I flipped my mattress, (something I’d been meaning to do for ages,) and reduced the stacks on my nightstand.
Lucky for us in Seattle, one of the hot spots for the virus, our weather is sunny this week. It’s still chilly, but it may be warm enough later for me to clean out my car. I need to keep moving in order to burn off the 38% fat content of the cheese enchilada I ate for lunch.
If you can't find what you want, try something new.
Happy Coping
Monday, March 16, 2020
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Before I retired from teaching six years ago, I used to joke with my students that when the Apocalypse happens, people from my generation will be the ones they turn to for leadership and guidance. I also used to encourage my kids to leave the country. Go to a Third World country and see how the rest of the world survives. I wanted them to stash a global perspective in their tool boxes. They scoffed, believing that apocalyptic events were the fiction comprised of zombies and aliens. None considered a virus would change all our lives.
Right now, hordes of people in the US are freaking out from the lack of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Small conveniences that we in First World countries expect access to any time, anywhere. The Rolling Stones wisely sang, you can’t always get what you want…
For three years my family lived in Bangladesh. At the time, it was a poor country with one of the highest illiteracy rates in the world. Bangladesh, like many Asian countries, has modernized through technological advances, yet large segments of the population still survive in poverty conditions. Living overseas in a poor country has given me an advantage to thrive in this current crisis.
In order to maintain a Western lifestyle, a couple times a year we ordered bulk shipments from Singapore of items we take for granted such as toilet paper, shampoo, coffee, oatmeal, chocolate chips, canned goods, peanut butter, and for my parents, booze. (My parents quickly learned to order more toilet paper and alcohol than our family needed in order to share with the nuns, priests, and staff at Holy Cross who weren’t privy to Singapore shipments.)
Until our supplies arrived, we used local products. Local TP was brown, and had the texture of paper towels at a gas station. Fellow Americans sometimes bartered with each other and traded products. Westerners returning to the sates often donated or sold what was left in their cabinets. But for the most part, we relied on what was available.
With the closure of restaurants and bars, you will crave what you cannot have. Our cook went to market daily and we ate quality food. But we spoiled Americans craved processed foods and brands we couldn’t get on the other side of the world. I once paid three dollars for a can of Campbell’s bean with bacon soup. That was in 1969, which is probably equivalent to twenty bucks.
We also had limited access to English speaking TV. We read a lot of books. We practically tackled the book wallah when he pulled up to our house with a basket of books to sell. Because the country was in political upheaval, for our own safety, we were often remanded to our homes under Martial Law.
Life was vastly different overseas than it was back home, but overall, we adapted. And you will too.
My generation grew up without instant gratification. We had to wait for things. We communicated by mail rather than IM or text. If we craved fast food, we had to drive out of town. We knew we couldn’t always get what we wanted, but we got what we needed.Hang in there. .
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Great Reads
As we remain self-quarantined, one of the best ways to treat
ourselves is to read.
MEMORIES LOOKING THROUGH A SCREEN DOOR by Gerald Bigelow is a collection of poems that are a quiet protest against racism, a tribute to loved ones, a snapshot of communities, a history of time and place, an exploration of spirituality, and ultimately, the inevitability of aging.
Read them for the beauty of language, and lines that shatter you like ones from Must where a circus parade goes through town and “lions reach out/paw the air/create a fearful silence.”
MEMORIES LOOKING THROUGH A SCREEN DOOR by Gerald Bigelow is a collection of poems that are a quiet protest against racism, a tribute to loved ones, a snapshot of communities, a history of time and place, an exploration of spirituality, and ultimately, the inevitability of aging.
Read them for the beauty of language, and lines that shatter you like ones from Must where a circus parade goes through town and “lions reach out/paw the air/create a fearful silence.”
The accompanying illustrations make a great companion to each section to the
text. In his early years, he shows the precariousness of the world in which he
lived, where fires erupted often. In poem #6, Bigelow writes, “I guess it was
just the cost of doing business” of the the Plastics Factory fire, and “in
those days people just died early.” “And they didn’t complain because they
didn’t know any better.”
Bigelow points out how “grown folks give you directions… but
“rarely do they give instruction on the safest way to get there.” Each poem in
this collection of 87 has its own power. One that speaks loudest to me are
Time Knows, in which “time knows the river, the same river flows/neither
greeting/nor bidding farewell.”
Read them for their exploration on race, in It no longer
matters, where Bigelow explores how “Your 1950s and my 1950s were not the
same.” And finally, read these poems for the universal truth of growing older.
“[in the mirror] I look and see lines and creases/ must be some kind of flaw in
the glass.”
Happy Reading!
Friday, March 6, 2020
Writing in Captivity
I live in the Seattle area, a hot spot for the corona-virus.
I'm writing a novel about a couple quarantined. (It's being written by my alter ego, a much younger, more attractive redhead who pens steamy romance. I'm not revealing any more.) Ironically, I'm on a self-imposed quarantine as the Seattle area is a hot spot for the corona-virus, aka COVID-19.
Part of the problem with COVID-19 is not its deadly stats. We still have a better chance of dying from flu or pneumonia that corona-virus. The issues are that we don't know how its spreads, there is no definitive treatment, and there's no vaccine.
Unlike my characters, I am free to come and go as I please. I just choose to stay at home to minimize exposure unless I need to go out. My kitchen is well stocked with food, cat food, tea, and wine. The cat and I are ready for the zombie or virus Apocalypse.
The word 'Quarantine' makes me envision cages and dining on food slid to me through a narrow window. But for an introvert and a writer, (often one and the same) it's not a bad deal. If I turn off the TV and its endless political, disease filled rhetoric, I may actually get a lot of work done. Several events for which I was supposed to attend next week are canceled. I'm caught up on laundry. If I don't leave the house, all I need to wear are pajamas. (I don't write naked. Yikes. I live in an earthquake zone.)
If schools close, the ones who will suffer most are parents and extroverts. Around here, where tech is a big employer, parents are already working from home. But their kids are still at school, so they can get work done. If the kids are home and locked inside, it will be like an extended snow day, If parents are wise, they will stock up on games, puzzles, books, and batteries along with food. Libraries and bookstores are still open, and some bookstores like Third Place Books, will ship to you with FREE shipping.
IF you go out to eat, please give your server a big tip. Chances are they aren't serving as many customers as usual, and they can't work from home.
Once I buy cat litter later today, I'll be good for the next couple of weeks.
Happy Writing and reading.
I'm writing a novel about a couple quarantined. (It's being written by my alter ego, a much younger, more attractive redhead who pens steamy romance. I'm not revealing any more.) Ironically, I'm on a self-imposed quarantine as the Seattle area is a hot spot for the corona-virus, aka COVID-19.
Part of the problem with COVID-19 is not its deadly stats. We still have a better chance of dying from flu or pneumonia that corona-virus. The issues are that we don't know how its spreads, there is no definitive treatment, and there's no vaccine.
Unlike my characters, I am free to come and go as I please. I just choose to stay at home to minimize exposure unless I need to go out. My kitchen is well stocked with food, cat food, tea, and wine. The cat and I are ready for the zombie or virus Apocalypse.
The word 'Quarantine' makes me envision cages and dining on food slid to me through a narrow window. But for an introvert and a writer, (often one and the same) it's not a bad deal. If I turn off the TV and its endless political, disease filled rhetoric, I may actually get a lot of work done. Several events for which I was supposed to attend next week are canceled. I'm caught up on laundry. If I don't leave the house, all I need to wear are pajamas. (I don't write naked. Yikes. I live in an earthquake zone.)
If schools close, the ones who will suffer most are parents and extroverts. Around here, where tech is a big employer, parents are already working from home. But their kids are still at school, so they can get work done. If the kids are home and locked inside, it will be like an extended snow day, If parents are wise, they will stock up on games, puzzles, books, and batteries along with food. Libraries and bookstores are still open, and some bookstores like Third Place Books, will ship to you with FREE shipping.
IF you go out to eat, please give your server a big tip. Chances are they aren't serving as many customers as usual, and they can't work from home.
Once I buy cat litter later today, I'll be good for the next couple of weeks.
Happy Writing and reading.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
Beginning with the Middle
In the monthly writing workshop I conduct at a local library,
the other night I talked about Write Your Novel From
the Middle by James Scott Bell. The concept is described as “like popping
open the hood and showing writers how they can be intentional about the story.”
In
this book, Bell claims that for a book to be effective, there must be a “mirror
moment” where the main character can literally or figuratively look in the mirror
and questions his/her beliefs about himself. It
helps enormously to know the middle moment/mirror moment, because knowing this
moment “illuminates the entire book” you’re trying to write. It’s the “deep
tissue of the story,” (or the engine that drives it.) which many writers don’t
discover until much later, sometimes after several drafts or even once the book
is published.
When Breakfast with Neruda came out and reviewers had
their say, they found things in my novel I hadn’t realized were there.
.
Bell also claims that a good novel [or memoir] is
about one of three types of “death stakes”:
the real death of the body,
death of a career or passion,
death of the inner self.
Once the writer discovers what type of death takes place, the
transformation the protagonist needs to make to accept the death makes the story
fall into place more easily.
For example, In the middle of the
classic film Casablanca, Ilsa comes to Rick after closing time, to
explain about why she left him. He calls her a whore, making her cry and leave.
As Rick buries his head in his hands, he realizes he’s a selfish man who all
along keeps love at arm’s length. The rest of the film is about what his
transformation, and his ultimate sacrifice in his love for Ilsa by letting her
go.
Exactly in the middle of The Hunger Games, Katniss accepts that she’s going die,
and she prepares herself for death, but when she doesn’t die, she makes the
realization she has survived in order to fight on.
Interestingly,
this concept of beginning with the middle works equally well if you’re a
pantser like me or a plotter. Pantsers may write many drafts before
brainstorming the mirror moment. But then, once you know it, your
pantsing will have a focus and guide you to the end. A pantser could also start
with a mirror moment “out of the blue,” and then write a whole novel around it. Plotters will love knowing the mirror moment because they
usually have a structure to build around it, and planning scenes will be
easier as a result.
In
my workshop, I asked my participants to go into the library and find a book
they had already read and find the mirror moment. In most cases, that moment
was exactly in the center of each book. Books that have multiple main
characters the position of the transformation will vary, but essentially it works
best near the middle.
I looked inside my own book Breakfast With Neruda, and Michael’s transformation takes place at the end
of chapter Eleven, smack in the middle of the book (no spoilers, in case you
haven’t read it.) The upshot is, if you’re having trouble with your manuscript
(In my current work-in-progress, the second half has issues) go to the middle
and see if the main character has had a "transformational" moment, and define
what type of "death stake" it is.
Happy Writing!
Sunday, September 8, 2019
Character Accuses Author of Bad Storytelling
My protagonist, Michael “Neruda”
Flynn, is upset with me. He saunters in as I’m working on my next work in
progress and pounds on my desk. “How badly did you tell my story in THE
LANGUAGE OF THE SON?”
I look up. “What do you mean?”
He throws his hands in the air. “You
sold a bunch of copies, but nobody is reviewing it!”.
“Oh. That.” I take a sip of tea. “Maybe
people are afraid of hurting my feelings if they hated it.”
He scoffs. “You have no feelings!
Writers are soulless creatures who devise more ways to torture poor, innocent characters
like me.”
I squint at him. “Have you been
reading my browsing history?”
He crosses his arms and slumps back
in his chair. “No, but I survived all the knives and arrows you flung at me in
a three-book series.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, but
readers want you to suffer. Otherwise there’s no story.”
“But why must I suffer so much?”
I shrug. “You don't think I suffered too as I was writing your tale? All those endless revisions and scenes to make the story work!”
He points a finger at me. “Just you
wait. I’ll write my own story and base a character on you. I’ll send her
into a field of dragons and snakes, and believe me, it won’t be pretty.”
“I guess turnabout is fair play.” I
take another taste of my tea and raise my fingers above my keyboard. “Now can I
get back to my next novel?”
He glances at my screen. “That poor
girl. What did she and her family ever do to you where you have to cause her so
much grief?”
“They visited my imagination.”
If you’ve read THE LANGUAGE OF THE SON, Michael and I would appreciate an honest review.
Thank you!
Happy Reading!
Sunday, July 28, 2019
My favorite two words are BOOK SALE
Who doesn't love a book sale? If you're a fan of my novel BREAKFAST WITH NERUDA, you can now read its sequel, BLUE VALENTINES, on kindle for a limited time at .99. (Or free if you have Prime. So what's it about?
On the verge of graduating high school, with no solid plans for his future, Michael has two options. He can either remain in Rooster, Ohio and attend a local college, or accept a scholarship to a summer workshop in Seattle, where he has a chance to meet his biological father. Will he make the right choice? While he struggles with his options, Michael discovers the ties that bind him to his girlfriend Shelly may be slowly unraveling...
Happy Reading!
Sunday, July 14, 2019
The Rest of the Story
Earlier today I shared coffee with
a writer friend whose first novel is coming out in October. “I feel like I have
imposter syndrome,” she said. “It’s as if I’m leading someone else’s life.” It’s a familiar feeling many of my
author friends and I share: a belief that we’re all frauds. Maybe it’s the
nature of creating stories that causes writers to feel like imposters. If we write
fiction, we’re writing something that isn’t true. It’s all in our heads.
Except when the book goes out in
the world, the story perpetuates into someone else’s consciousness. In The Shadow
of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, protagonist Daniel Sempere is taken to
the Cemetery of Forgotten Books by his bookseller father, who tells his young son,
“Every book has a soul…The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with
it,” and later, he adds, “Every book you see here has been somebody’ best
friend.”
Perhaps Kristen, my author friend, senses
she no longer owns her story, or that she never owned it in the first place.
Yes, she toiled over multiple drafts and comments from her critique partners.
She bargained with her editor over its content. But the true soul of a book
exists in those who read it.
Writing fiction is a vocation that doesn’t
make sense. We spend months, sometimes years, listening to our imaginary
friends tell their tales. We take their stories and translate them to pages for
others to enjoy. It’s a daunting and impossible task.
Once the story is released, you’re
open to criticism. Even if a book is well received, there’s always that devil
on your shoulder poking his fork into you, whispering, you’re a fraud.
In order to promote the book, an
author needs to talk about the work with strangers. What inspired the story?
How much of this is true? How much of you is in the book? Why should I read it?
What’s it about?
Sometimes we don’t know the answers
to these questions. No wonder writers feel like imposters.
Yet we’re grateful to those of you
who take a chance and read/fall in love with our novels and characters.
The
reasons we write are ineffable. Most of us don’t do it for the money. Writing is
a compulsion, a romance with words, driven by a similar force that makes one
person develop a passion for cars or math.
BREAKFAST WITH NERUDA and BLUE VALENTINES needed an audience.
I just can’t tell you why.
The final installment in Michael
and Shelly’s tale, THE LANGUAGE OF THE SON, is available now in paperback, or pre-sale in eBook August 1.
I'd like to send a shout out to my awesome cover designer for this book and BLUE VALENTINES, Ashley Nicole Conway. You can find her on Facebook at Covered by Nicole. Because she's also a writer, she limits the number of cover clients she takes on, but she 's worth the wait.
Happy Reading!
Saturday, July 6, 2019
When Your Imaginary Friends Take Control
You may be wondering why I haven't posted in a couple of months. As you can see from the photo I've been busy writing the sequel to BREAKFAST WITH NERUDA. Since my publisher was not interested in this book, I'm opting to Independently publish it (and its sequel.)
This means I'm now a "hybrid author." Two of my critique partners are also hybrids, and they coaxed me to give it a go.
After weighing the pros and cons, I reluctantly decided to journey down the self publishing path.
Pros:
I choose my own cover designer and title, and have control over the book's content. I also manage the price points and decide when to put it on sale. Plus, any royalties come directly to me. In addition, I can update the book's content any time and own all the rights. No more sending out query after query to hear "not right for our list, we just published a similar title, we like the writing but didn't relate to the characters..." Yes, I could have continued to query, but I had two strikes against me:
One, while BREAKFAST WITH NERUDA is highly praised and was shortlisted for a major award, it didn't sell enough copies to set the world on fire. 'Writing is an art, publishing is a business' is a mantra we authors often hear at writer's conferences. You can craft beautiful sentences and well create developed characters in an engaging story, but if your book doesn't produce great sales figures in a short window of time, your next book is a harder sell.
Two, the characters aged up a year. YA characters tend to max at age eighteen, but the protagonist Michael is now nineteen. Technically, they are New Adult, which is a dying (Maybe already dead) category.
Perhaps the third strike is Contemporary YA is a super crowded market. My characters aren't diverse enough to compete with filling the much needed gaps in the YA canon. So, the odds were ever not in my favor to go traditional this time.
Cons:
I'm responsible for all the costs of cover design, formatting, editing, and advertising. In addition, I pay for all proofs and author copies and other marketing materials. I now have to pay attention to sales rankings, hone my subject categories, and fret over my pending obscurity.
Part of the reason BWN didn't sell is because I'm a terrible marketer. I want my clone to send out postcards and contact book bloggers to beg for reviews. There's a whole minefield of business practices indy writers must perform. By going rogue, I'm taking a huge risk because I don't have a clone, so it's all on me.
Having a big 5 publisher behind you gives you street cred in the trade. You're treated like a rock star at library and book conferences, and you make friends with other stars in the business. While it's waning somewhat, there's still a stigma against being "a self-published writer."
So why am I doing this?
Fans of BWN want to know what happens next with Michael and Shelly. I hadn't intended to write a series. My characters coerced me into it. I spent a lot of time with these people, and grew to love them.
Also, I'm not prone to do the logical, practical thing. But I believe in these stories.
I'm also a fan of irony. While indy writers are relegated to a lower position on the pecking order compared to traditionally published writers, the irony is, a large percentage of indys make more money than their counterparts. The ones who make money and get great reviews go through the same careful process of creating a book. The difference is, we own all the stakes.
The primary reason I'm indy publishing is I need these stories off my desk and out of my head so I can focus on my current (work in progress (WIP.) I'm 36,000 words into the next book (which will be a stand alone,) yet Michael and Shelly keep barking at me to get their story out there. These books are their fault.
The paperback of BLUE VALENTINES is out now, and the eBook is due out July 9, 2019.
The third and final book of the Michael/Shelly saga, THE LANGUAGE OF THE SON, will be coming in August.
Happy Writing.
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