Box Full of Letters

 

                           Photo by Anthony Shkraba via Pexels

"A story is a letter that the author writes to himself, to tell himself things that he would be unable to discover otherwise." - Carlos Ruiz Zafón

This quote caught my eye because Zafón's The Shadow of the Wind hooked me with the first beautifully-written sentence: "I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time." This literary mystery introduces Daniel, son of an antiquarian bookseller who finds solace in a "forgotten" book that leads him to discover one of Barcelona's darkest secrets. If you love books and mysteries, this one will captivate from the start and stay with you long after the final line.

Beyond admiring the author's work, I'm intrigued by the idea that in writing a story, the author is writing herself a letter. The more I've thought about this, the more I like the concept. I can sit down to write, and whether it's a short story, or a longer piece, I invariably take some detours and make turns I didn't plan on, and in fact didn't know were there until I was upon them. When rereading earlier-written parts of a longer piece, they can sometimes seem a bit unfamiliar. Perhaps that’s a result of the muse taking over.  

I exchange actual handwritten letters with a few friends. Writing those letters is like creating a story each time in that the pleasure is in the telling. And invariably, between answering questions posed in a letter I'm replying to and telling the recipient what I've been up to, I'll take a turn I didn't anticipate. Humans have always been storytellers, from the days of scrawling on cave walls. Turns out, we often tell those stories to ourselves.

Beyond Expectations

As a reader, you form a unique and intimate relationship with the author of a beloved book, especially one you fall in love with as a child. Norton Juster, author of the book of my childhood, The Phantom Tollbooth, passed away at the age of 91 on Monday. Learning that fact left me a little sad. I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Juster, and yet I feel as though I lost a family friend.

Besides further cementing my lifelong love of reading, the adventures of Milo and Tock the watchdog ignited my imagination and first planted the idea that writing could be fun. What an incredible gift. I'm guessing other writers and voracious readers felt the same way: graduating from picture to chapter books was a big deal. We were really reading, and we felt ready to take on anything.

For those unfamiliar with this charming, enduring story, Milo is a little boy bored by everything, until the day he finds that a tollbooth has mysteriously appeared in his room. (For the record, this SoCal kid had no earthly idea what a tollbooth was). Because he has nothing better to do, Milo sets off to the Lands Beyond, meeting wonderfully eccentric characters along the way, including Tock, the watchdog who ticks, the Humbug, a witch named Faintly Macabre, and the warring Kings of Dictionopolis and Digitopolis.

The book was published in 1961, but not everyone in the publishing world embraced it, claiming the ideas were beyond children and the vocabulary was too difficult. Seriously? Juster's reply to such ridiculous criticism was to say, "There is no such thing as a difficult word. There are only words you don't know yet — the kind of liberating words that Milo encounters on his adventure." Well said. Rest in peace, Mr. Juster, and enjoy your journey to the Lands Beyond. 

Show Me the Way

 

                                                                                           Photo credit: Rafael Pires via Pexels

"Description begins in the writer's imagination, but should finish in the reader's." – Stephen King

"Show, don’t tell" is advice often given to aspiring writers. It certainly makes sense, as the writer wants to paint a picture in her readers' minds. But when you sit down to write, to tell your story, it's easy to fall into just that—telling.

What's an aspiring writer to do? Learn from the pros. I've mentioned Master Class in this space before, and am still of the opinion that it's worth every penny. I just finished David Baldacci's class on writing mysteries and thrillers, and am once again walking the line between being incredibly inspired and convinced I have no idea what I'm doing. At least I'm consistent.

I do take some solace in the fact that even my favorite author, Robert Crais, often faces a blank page with uncertainty. I recently reread an interview in which he said that every time he sits down to write a new book he thinks, "Can I pull this off?" And that's after numerous awards and more than twenty novels. Some days I wonder if I can pull off a blog post.

But back to showing. In his class, Baldacci walks would-be thriller writers through his outlining process—emphasizing that it's ever-evolving, creating compelling characters, crafting dialogue, writing action scenes, and much more. Good stuff. His readers definitely see his stories unfold. And while it's clear how hard he works at his craft, it's also clear how much he enjoys it, simply stating that "he can't not write."

So where does that leave me? Starting to play with an idea for a new story, coming up with new ways to summon my muse, and knowing I'm not alone when I think I can't possibly write another book. But I think I can. I'll show you.

In the Pocket

 

                                                              Image by Pixabay via Pexels   

I'm late to the party on this one, but I just found out about kangaroo words. According to dictionary.com, a kangaroo word is a "word that contains its own synonym, with the letters to spell that synonym already placed in the correct order." WHAT?? Maybe it's a side effect of it being month eleventy-five of the pandemic, but I think this is so cool!

The letters can be consecutive, like act within action, or spread out, like male in masculine. And to continue with the word play, those shorter synonyms inside of a kangaroo word are called joey words. Methinks Kanga and Roo would be pleased.

I'm a bit dismayed that I didn't learn about kangaroo words in grade school. Had I been made aware of this bit of language nerdiness around the time I discovered The Phantom Tollbooth, my eight-year-old head surely would have exploded (in a good way). Kangaroo words were popularized as a word game in the 1950s, in The American Magazine, and later appeared in Reader's Digest. Then, I suppose, they just faded away.

For you serious word geeks out there, a twin kangaroo contains two joey words, such as container, in which both tin and can appear. Want more? An anti-kangaroo (is it just me, or does that sound like a political party that would appear in a Monty Python sketch?) contains its own antonym, like overt in covert. And the finale? A grand kangaroo contains two joey words, one of which is in the "pouch" of the other, such as alone, which contains lone, which contains one. Mind. Blown.

Word play will always be fun for a certain segment of the population. I just hope that enough of us are passing that sense of play along to future generations. Wouldn't Kanga want us to?

W is for Where

 

Writing fiction is an interesting endeavor. The writer creates a world in which to tell her story, but it must have elements of truth—things that will be relatable to the reader. Walter Mosley said he writes fiction so he can "make stuff up." And yet, the Los Angeles of Easy Rawlins is vividly gritty and instantly recognizable. Done properly, the setting of a novel becomes a character. Sometimes, the principal character.   

So, how does a writer decide where to set a story, in cases where the setting isn't a given, like Raymond Chandler's LA? In the early stage of a story I recently finished, I considered going the Sue Grafton route and making up a town, like Santa Teresa, so it wouldn't matter what I put where. But as the story progressed, I realized I'd need to stop and map everything out or be at risk of continuity errors. Does my protagonist drive into or away from the morning sun on the way to work? How long does it take her to get to said job? How far away does her best friend live? Ultimately, I decided to set the story in Sacramento, and had Google maps open on a browser tab while I wrote.

Julie Smith, author of the Edgar Award-winning New Orleans Mourning, sees the fiction writer as a reporter when setting the scene, recording the sights, sounds, tastes, and smells, then taking readers on a tour. And, bearing in mind Elmore Leonard's rule about never opening a book with weather, the right detail, from nerve-jangling Santa Ana winds to the silence of snowfall, can place readers in the story like nothing else. Hello, Sacramento valley tule fog.

Sacramento may not have the romantic allure of San Francisco or the contrasting glitz and grit of Los Angeles, but there are plenty of features with which to anchor a story. Stately trees and homes in Land Park, the American River bike trail, little towns on the delta that seem stuck in time. If a writer takes care in setting the scene, readers will notice. And they'll hopefully want to come along for the ride.

Ten Things I Learned Last Year

 

Introvert that I am, my social habits didn't change all that much during the pandemic-driven quarantine last year. But forced solitude is a different matter, and I had to adjust to not seeing friends and family in person. I had to rely on phone calls (I've never been a big phone talker, even as a teenager), texts, and emails more than ever, and at times, just retreated from everything.

It would be easy to paint the entire year with a broad tar-filled brush, but there were a few unexpected bright spots, along with more time to just be with my own thoughts. So, in no particular order, here are ten things I learned last year:

1. My cats sleep at least 18 hours a day.

2. Never underestimate the power of a sky break.

3. My day job doesn't belong in my house, but I can make room for it without losing my muse. In fact, the two can complement each other.

4. I rediscovered the simple joy of writing a letter and anticipating a reply.

5. Forced solitude is different than chosen, but it's okay.

6. Social media is even more annoying during a pandemic.

7. Good lighting is your best friend on Zoom.

8. A 15-minute department phone call is good for at least 1500 steps.

9. "If not now, when?" is a very powerful question.

10. Never underestimate the power of going for a drive and listening to music.

This year didn't begin well, prompting some to wonder if it's the thirteenth month of 2020. When will things begin to look up? No one knows, but I do know that I want to respond to chaos differently this year. And I don't want to forget last year, because I want to continue to learn from it. I want to continue to practice bending without breaking, and I want to feel lighter. I can't change what's going on around me, and in the world at large, but I can change how I react.     

    

A New Year’s Restart

 

Jokes about rebooting aside, it does feel as though we need a great restart after the end of this exceedingly long, exhausting year. And while I don't expect to begin 2021 with any less snarkiness (sorry—not sorry), there are some things I'd like to leave behind, like worrying about that which is completely out of my control and the heavy weariness that came with fearing the unknown.

I'm not in the habit of making New Year's resolutions, but I do think about setting intentions, so I'll consider this a mental reset and focus on what was good about this year, and what I'd like to do more of in 2021.

Write more letters

What started with buying stamps to support the Post Office turned into sending postcards and writing actual letters, reconnecting with old friends, and rediscovering the simple joy of putting pen to paper.

Go for more walks

I was in the habit of walking with friends at work, but after my office closed and I started working at home, I remembered how nice it is just to walk around my neighborhood or take an evening stroll by the river.

Plan for a brighter future

It was far too easy to focus on what we couldn't do this year, and how much we missed out on. I once worked with a woman who used to say that hunger is the best sauce. Anticipation can indeed be delicious, so I'll focus on how great it will be to see my extended family (and meet my new great nieces!), visit with friends, and see live music. 

So the answer to the query, "have you tried turning it off and on again?" is not yet, but I'm about to.