I just sent my third packet off to my advisor. I feel great about this work, for the most part. I feel that there is beauty in my writing that did not appear in the first two packets. I feel inspired. I really do. Writing...it is so beautiful. Thank you, Lord, for giving us words to create beauty. Here is a piece from my latest chapter:
A new wound opened, and Emma felt a stab of fresh pain. She let it wash over her, almost grateful for pain that didn’t have the same reason attached to it. New pain meant new thoughts,
new obsessions. Less room for old ones.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
March 20, 2012
Well, I have no idea how all these chapter will ultimately fit together, but they just keep flowing out of me, so I just keep writing them!!! It is weird...I have always heard authors talk about their characters as if they were real people that they had loved. I am actually getting a sense of that. Some characters are still undeveloped, but the ones that are developing are coming to life for me, and I am seeing them as actual people. Writing today's chapter, I actually felt empathy for the character, as though he was actually a person actually dealing with this tragic situation. Neat! Here is a piece of it:
He was suddenly aware of how large and strong his hands were. And he thought, regretfully,
of how they had not been strong enough to hold on to his wife. He thought of how this monstrous illness had hands more powerful than his, and he had to hold back the surge of fury that rose up in him.
He was suddenly aware of how large and strong his hands were. And he thought, regretfully,
of how they had not been strong enough to hold on to his wife. He thought of how this monstrous illness had hands more powerful than his, and he had to hold back the surge of fury that rose up in him.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
March 18, 2012
I have been able to write these middle sections of the novel much easier than the beginning chapters. I guess it is because I know the ending, and I know the main events that need to take place. I just am having a hard time introducing the characters and knowing how much to disclose. In any case, here is a section from the latest chapter:
Sometimes Beth could not follow any of Karley’s one-sided conversations, and other conversations seemed to be in slow motion, when Karley seemed incapable of upholding much of
a conversation at all. At those times, Karley’s personality was flat, and Beth would wait for the spike of the flatline, the way doctors watch the monitor for signs of activity, for life to
spark again and the line to regain normalcy.
Sometimes Beth could not follow any of Karley’s one-sided conversations, and other conversations seemed to be in slow motion, when Karley seemed incapable of upholding much of
a conversation at all. At those times, Karley’s personality was flat, and Beth would wait for the spike of the flatline, the way doctors watch the monitor for signs of activity, for life to
spark again and the line to regain normalcy.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
March 17, 2012
Today, I finished reading The Shack. I know that I risk offending some people, but I did not care for the book at all. The idea of it was great, but I did not think it was well-written. It was cheesy at times, and it did not keep my interest. So, I actually had to go back and read bits and pieces of The Lovely Bones before I felt I could get into my writing zone. I wrote a chapter in which Emma dreams of Karley during Karley's first depressive episode. I do not feel great about this chapter, but I actually think that the muted tone works since she is supposed to be depressed. We'll see. I do feel confused, however, as to which chapter to write next. My advisor suggested skipping to the meat of the novel and writing some chapters that really are at the heart of the plot. I wrote of Emma's accident and now of Karley's depression...but I am not sure what to write next since it is out of order. Hmmmm...well, here is a splice:
I think of my mother. My dead mother. If she were here, would she know how to help me? But she isn’t here. Her bones lay in a decaying wooden box. Suddenly, I am in the coffin with her. My bones, with their defined density, are rotting like hers. And the lid of the coffin is sealed, closing me inside this tiny space of darkness. It is where I belong, with my mother’s bones,
and my own tears, the only wetness in the dry, stale air.
I think of my mother. My dead mother. If she were here, would she know how to help me? But she isn’t here. Her bones lay in a decaying wooden box. Suddenly, I am in the coffin with her. My bones, with their defined density, are rotting like hers. And the lid of the coffin is sealed, closing me inside this tiny space of darkness. It is where I belong, with my mother’s bones,
and my own tears, the only wetness in the dry, stale air.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
March 14, 2012
I finished The Lovely Bones, but I know I will return to it for inspiration when I am not getting enough "soul" in my writing. I wrote only a little tonight, but it felt inspired. There is not much dialogue in the part I wrote, and I feel that I can write the with depth much more easily. Soul is not spoken as much as it is felt, so I have a feeling that much of the book will be narrated rather than packed with dialogue. Here is a section from tonight's writing (which is still from Emma's past):
When Emma woke, she heard before she saw. She heard hushed voices and rhythmic beeping sounds. She smelled an antiseptic stench and felt stiff sheets covering her body. Her eyelids fluttered several times before having the strength to remain open. Then she felt what her eyes discerned: the bulge in her stomach was gone. She turned her head and vomited.
When Emma woke, she heard before she saw. She heard hushed voices and rhythmic beeping sounds. She smelled an antiseptic stench and felt stiff sheets covering her body. Her eyelids fluttered several times before having the strength to remain open. Then she felt what her eyes discerned: the bulge in her stomach was gone. She turned her head and vomited.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
March 14, 2012
I have been re-reading The Lovely Bones. It has been almost ten years since I last read it, and it is amazingly written! I had an epiphany while reading it: I need to put the soul back into my writing. I have been so focused on the plot, the character's dialogue, etc...that I have left out the SOUL. So I am skipping ahead to the thick of the book so I can get into the depth of the plot. Then I will go back and fill in the earlier sections. Here is the end of the latest chapter (which happens in the past...two years earlier than the setting of the book):
Her world went dark. No sound. No light. No feeling. She tried to open her eyes, but they were weighed down by something larger than she was. Instead, her mind found a red cloud. And it rained down blood all around her.
Her world went dark. No sound. No light. No feeling. She tried to open her eyes, but they were weighed down by something larger than she was. Instead, her mind found a red cloud. And it rained down blood all around her.
March 14, 2012
I did not blog when I finished my packet because I was exhausted! But here is the part that my advisor liked best:
He closed his office door behind him and settled into his chair. He rolled it forward and rested his elbows on the messy desk. He dropped his head into his hands and stared at the department newsletter that littered the top of the pile of papers. “Welcome Back!” was printed in large letters
across the top of the front page. Yeah, that pretty much fit. Welcome back to the past. To that night. To the inescapable nightmare. He didn’t even fight it; he just let it take him. He knew it would anyway.
He closed his office door behind him and settled into his chair. He rolled it forward and rested his elbows on the messy desk. He dropped his head into his hands and stared at the department newsletter that littered the top of the pile of papers. “Welcome Back!” was printed in large letters
across the top of the front page. Yeah, that pretty much fit. Welcome back to the past. To that night. To the inescapable nightmare. He didn’t even fight it; he just let it take him. He knew it would anyway.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
March 3, 2012
Wow, I was in a writing frenzy today! I feel great! As my advisor suggested, I focused on NOT overwriting. So, when I wrote a word that felt "wrong" such as got (I always told me student NOT to use that word), I left it there. I didn't try to replace it with a fancy word. Just tell the story, Tara...tell the story. Here is a small section of tonight's writing:
She had used rich colors – purples, blues, and the red. Red, the most important. The sea
blue swirls spiraled inward toward an emptiness that darkened in the center. The brush strokes were visible, deliberate. She could still remember how her hand had cramped as she held the brush tightly, circling again and again. Then there was the shades of red that outlined the indefinite shape in the upper right corner, the epitome of her world – where it began and where it ended. Beth traced the red outline with her finger, as she had done a thousand times.
She had used rich colors – purples, blues, and the red. Red, the most important. The sea
blue swirls spiraled inward toward an emptiness that darkened in the center. The brush strokes were visible, deliberate. She could still remember how her hand had cramped as she held the brush tightly, circling again and again. Then there was the shades of red that outlined the indefinite shape in the upper right corner, the epitome of her world – where it began and where it ended. Beth traced the red outline with her finger, as she had done a thousand times.
March 3, 2012
Writing yesterday flowed! Whoo-hoo! I don't know if it is any good, but I am supposed to "trust the process." I rewrote the scene where Jean shows Emma her rental space. According to my trusty advisor, the scene did not make sense as originally written...it was too vague. I was trying to drop some foreshadowing in the scene, but I guess I was too evasive so I was the only one who understood it! UGH. Anyway...here is an excerpt:
At first glance, the girl standing there had a striking resemblance to someone she once knew. But it took only a few seconds to notice the distinct differences and to remember the obvious impossibility of it being the same person.
At first glance, the girl standing there had a striking resemblance to someone she once knew. But it took only a few seconds to notice the distinct differences and to remember the obvious impossibility of it being the same person.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
March 1, 2012
I have actually been writing on my yellow legal pads; I just have not had the time to put type it up or post it. After I read As I Lay Here Dying, I read The Sun Also Rises. Both being classics, I was sort of in that "mode" when BAM! Out of nowhere comes this totally horrible book, In the Cut. Wow...talk about vulgar, sexually explicit, and downright disgusting!!!! Don't read it! So, now I am back to my writing. My packet is due this coming Monday...so I am looking forward to hearing what my advisor has to say this time. Here is a short excerpt from this today's writing:
Karley walked to the counter to order, and Keith watched her fluid movements – the way she crossed one foot over the other and balanced it on her toes, the way she tilted her head slightly to the right when she spoke to the employee, the way she clutched her small purse and held it in the crevice between her body and the counter.
Karley walked to the counter to order, and Keith watched her fluid movements – the way she crossed one foot over the other and balanced it on her toes, the way she tilted her head slightly to the right when she spoke to the employee, the way she clutched her small purse and held it in the crevice between her body and the counter.
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