Publish No Story Before Its Message Is Right

Color me perplexed. I’m having trouble getting a blog post right. I know what I want to say. I’ve said it a few different ways. A couple are eloquent, well-crafted. But I fear I’m in love with the sound of my own (writer’s) voice, and the message is still not quite right.

So what do I do? Post it anyway? You can tell by the gap between posts that has not happened.

No, I've come to a conclusion that applies to anything I might write — blog posts, emails, short stories or entire memoirs (not to mention novels, cookbooks, or any unpaid project that lacks an urgent deadline). This conclusion may also work for you:

IF YOU DON’T FEEL IT’S READY, 

IF YOU CAN’T QUITE MAKE IT WORK, 

WORK ON SOMETHING ELSE.

How simple is that? Back off. Write something else. Edit something you’ve already written. If you’re still not clear, try

• discussing the topic with friends.
• journal or free write about it.
• read up on the topic
• asking yourself, “What am I trying to say?”

In general, Give your problem piece space and before long, it will pop into clear focus. And if you write something else in the meantime, you'll at least have something to show for your time.

Photo credit: Ron St. Amant, shared by Creative Commons License

Respecting Your Writer’s Voice

“It’s critically important to find an editor who will respect your writer’s voice and not try to change it into her own.”

Electric agreement surged through  the room during a Penn Writers self-publishing workshop offered last weekend by acclaimed Pittsburgh author Kathleen Shoop. Heads nodded, and a ripple of “Mmm hmm” rose and fell.

I exchanged nods with friends sitting on both sides. Then a memory tempered my thought. Ten years ago a group fondly referred to as “angel editors” banded together to help a mutual friend – I’ll call him Will – hammer a complex memoir into publishable shape..

Aside from structural concerns, as editors we faced a delicate challenge: Transforming Will’s voice from a stilted style with big words and convoluted, page-long sentences into something that flowed smoothly into readers’ eyes, ears and brains. Will finally agreed that we needed to streamline the language without compromising the message or completely losing his voice. The resulting book went into a third printing.

Will’s purpose for his book was to inform a wide, general readership. Thus his voice had to be changed for reader appeal.

Conversely, when compiling a vast array of drafts and notes my mother left behind, I changed only documented factual mistakes, a few flagrant grammatical errors, and typos. Since she was no longer around to discuss style and voice, I left things like her strings of dots and signature clichés so it sounded like a letter from Marje.

Marje’s purpose for writing was to leave a legacy of personal and family history for posterity. Leaving it in her words and phrasing was an additional way of documenting the writing style of her generation of women.

Where is the balance? These are two extreme examples. In general, when I edit a story, I find ways to smooth rough edges and make words flow more smoothly. My edits are only suggestions. My fix for a phrase that sounds awkward to me may grate on the author’s ear.

The extent to which I change things depends in large part on the author’s purpose. If I’m helping a friend finish a family project, I’m less inclined to tinker. In my opinion, a bit of colloquialism and cliché lends authenticity. If an author hopes to sell truckloads of books to the public, buckets of red ink may flow.

So, you see, how much an editor (that includes friends and critique groups) should mess with your voice depends on your purpose. If you plan to appear on stage, appropriate makeup will emphasize your message. Stage makeup is out of place on a mountain trail.

Experience and practice are additional factors. A polished writing voice is not necessarily the sign of an expensive editor. Writers follow a learning curve much like musicians. Beginning piano students do well to tap out Chopsticks. Ten years later, they may perform Beethoven sonatas with ease. In between lie thousands of hours of practice with gradual improvement.

Your writing voice will likewise gain tone and force as you seek constant feedback and work to improve. That does not make your voice less authentic. It reflects the years of practice you put in and becomes natural and authentic for you.

As you continue down your writing path, you’ll discover that each story has a unique voice. Some are humorous, some sassy, some sad or mournful. Let your stories whisper their way, and your voice will grow in range.

Write now: if you have some, read a few unchanged stories you wrote several years ago and consider how you might change them today. Even if you’re a beginner, start a practice of keeping versions of stories to help keep track of how much your writing has developed. If you change a story after more than a year has elapsed, rename it to preserve the old version so you can compare. Think of this as your growth chart and celebrate your continuing improvement!

Guest Post: Writing As Fertilizer for Memory Seeds

Jessica Baverstock in China

My previous post, “Living to Write the Tale,” covers the concept of using writing to shape our future. Today I’m pleased to feature a post on this topic by Jessica Baverstock, who triggered my insight on this topic. Jessica  lives in Perth, Australia, almost exactly on the opposite side of the world from me, showing how life writers are forming a globe-spanning community. I hope Jessica’s five tips will enrich your life now and in the future, giving you volumes of memorable memoir to come.  

When it comes to life writing, some of us might start thinking of our lives in the past tense. We think of the things we've done, accomplished, experienced - all the adventures we've had. We may view our writing time as reminiscing over the past, plumbing the memories we've acquired over our lifetime.

While it's true that the Tree of Life Writing is planted in the soil of our memories, keeping that soil fertile is an ongoing process - one you still have plenty of control over.

The realisation of this truism hit me the other day when I was commenting on Sharon's recent post "Write Where the Juice Is." I mentioned that I'd moved to China at 21. Sharon replied:

One of the advantages of beginning to write as a relatively young person is that you can shape your life for the page. Thinking like a writer can serve as conscience reinforcement, ethical map, compelling vision, as well as the usual functions.

The concept of 'shaping my life for the page' resonated with me. The more I thought about the concept, the more I realised that it applied to every age. No matter where we are in our journey of life, we can continue to shape our life for the page.

Here are 5 ways I can think of to fertilize the soil of our Tree of Life Writing. I'd love to hear yours!

Make Friends

One of the best ways to enrich the soil of your memories is to sample the memories of others. Interacting with other people will widen your world view and expose you to different opinions. Reaching out to an enthusiastic person is the best way to inspire yourself in a new endeavour.

For example, growing up I had no interest in Asia. I spoke a little Spanish and dreamed of visiting South America. Then a new friend came long. She'd learned Mandarin Chinese and encouraged me to give it a go.

At first I refused. That's not where I envisioned my life leading. But slowly my friend dropped hints and irresistible titbits of information until I found myself inexorably drawn toward a new subject - China. Her enthusiasm and certainty infected me.

Try it yourself: Choose a friend whose passions and interests differ from your own. Spend time getting to know them, asking them questions about their experiences and viewpoints. Allow their comments to widen your horizons.

Read Widely

Curiosity may kill cats, but it's the life blood of life writers. Cultivating a curiosity in many different subjects can open doors you've never even considered.

As my interest in China grew, I began reading everything I could get my hands on. I learned of the culture, the history and the stories of everyday people. I found connections between this new subject and a favourite interest of mine - sailing boats. I learned about tea clippers and the effect they had on both the Chinese and British cultures.

Since then I've been like a literary bower bird, collecting together facts and experiences on this subject with the aim of one day writing a novel documenting this period of history.

Try it yourself: Go to the library or a book store and find a book on a subject that mildly interests you. As you investigate the subject further, look for connections to other life interests you have. Find a common narrative to connect your experiences together.

Travel

Whether you're setting off for the other side of the planet or simply to the next town, your movement through the world will expose you to fresh experiences that will compost themselves into your memories.

My love for China and the Chinese led me to travel there and eventually live in the country for over 2 years. As you can imagine, in that time I collected a huge array of anecdotes and some truly life-changing moments.

Try it yourself: Plan a trip to somewhere new. You don't need to leave your country, or even your state. Just find somewhere that you've never been before and set off into the unknown!

Try Your Hand at New Activities

The act of learning something creates new pathways in the brain, providing even more fodder for your writing. Attempting a new skill like painting, horseback riding or learning another language not only adds to your experiences but also provides you new ways of expressing yourself.

Tackling the Chinese language was one of the most challenging things I've ever attempted in my life, but I found it an invaluable addition to my life. Thinking in another language helped me see outside my culture and the confines of my mother tongue. This encouraged me to express my thoughts in unique ways, approaching subjects from alternate angles.

As a writer, each adjustment to my way of viewing the world and communicating that viewpoint opens up a plethora of possibilities - possibilities I could write about for the rest of my life.

Try it yourself: Start learning a skill you've always wanted to try. Perhaps it's playing an instrument or making lace. You don't have to be good at it. You're focusing on  the experience, not necessarily the finished product.

Experiment With Your Writing

All of the above feed back into your writing. With these experiences you now have plenty of raw material from which to create interesting narratives, comparisons and voices in your work.

For me, living in China was a lesson in differences. There were so many everyday objects and actions in my life that were completely different in China or didn't even have an equivalent. Those comparisons made me work harder at my descriptions of places and people. I focused on making sure each character I captured on the page had their own unique voice and thought process.

Try it yourself:  Play with your writing voice. Imagine you're describing a location from someone else's point of view. Change the format of your writing. Try relating an experience out of order.

Much about your life is still within your power to influence. So live like you want to write. Continue doing, experiencing and accomplishing your life's adventures!

What about you? How have you shaped your life for the page? Please comment and let me know.

Find Jessica online: Jessica Baverstock blogs at Creativity’s Workshop where her creativity writes in purple text. Her latest downloadable e-book, Creativity on Demand, covers how writers can access their creativity whenever and wherever they need inspiration. Her Twitter handle is @jessbaverstock.

Telling Those Untold Stories

I’m honored to be a featured guest on Sue Mitchell’s inspiring blog today. It takes a writing village to create something meaningful and turn stories into bonds that unite communities around the world. I’m happy that we can share and enlarge this village together. 

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You know those times when you’re looking around online, happen on a website, and feel like you’ve struck gold? That’s how I felt the first time I landed on Sharon Lippincott’s The Heart and Craft of Lifewriting blog.

. . .

On your blog, you provide a wealth of clear and practical lessons on improving your writing. At what point in the process of writing a memoir do you think writers should begin to concern themselves with the craft of writing and when do you recommend freewriting, without worrying about quality?

I advise beginners to focus on quantity rather than quality, especially if they are near or past Medicare age. I base this partly on the fact that my mother did not tell anyone she was working on her life story and died leaving two or three versions of rough draft, but nothing polished. Once I found those drafts in her genealogy material, I was able to piece them together into a coherent and complete narrative of her life up to the point of meeting my father.

. . . Click here to read the rest.

The Patchwork Quilt of Life

“When I quit concerning myself with projects and turned my attention to process, my work really took off,” explained internationally acclaimed fiber artist Sandy German in a talk about the work shown in a local exhibition. Sandy leads a group of quilters who meet weekly in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. to  explore quiltmaking as a vehicle for personal growth and creative expression.

“Sandy gives us a theme to work on, and when we come back with our finished pieces, no two are alike.” said one group member. "We celebrate the differences in our work."

“This group is a marvelous place to learn. I’ve never been told I did something wrong. Everyone looks at my work as an expression of who I am and what I have to say, not as a piece of sewing that has to be perfect in every detail. It’s supportive and exciting,” said another.

As group members briefly discussed their experiences with quilting, the group, and the pieces they each had on display, Sandy’s comments formed a thread weaving the program together. Several times she emphasized the need to take time to be aware of the message of a piece of work. “It’s not always what you think it should be. Sometimes you are surprised.” Herein lies the element of self-discovery and personal growth. She and group members continually returned to the concept of process above project.

As I listened to the program, I was struck by the similarities between the processes of quilting and writing. Serious life writers discover that the process of writing, of listening to the message of each piece, is the source of inspiration, self-discovery, and personal growth. In a very real sense, piecing memories together to comprise a meaningful memoir is much like piecing fabric together to form a quilt. Both quilter and writer face the challenge of selecting, discarding, snipping, and arranging to form a meaningful unit from a universe of possible components. Like Sandy, many of us have discovered that when we switch our focus to process rather than simply cranking out predetermined projects, our writing becomes deeper, more meaningful, and more eloquent.

Whether you quilt or write — or dabble in oils — it’s okay to make messes, to experiment, to let the story inherent in the work bubble forth of its own accord. Be willing to be fresh and surprised by your results. Forget about forming a coherent story and just write, for the pure joy of it, and for the satisfaction of seeing your words, your meaningful thoughts, on the page. Eventually those madcap scribblings will form themselves into a more eloquent story than you would likely ever have imagined. Your writing voice will take on more resonant tones.

While you are at it, you’ll also do well to find a writing group much like Sandy’s quilting group for support, appreciation, and a general sense of writing community. If you can’t find one, start your own!

Write now: find some paper and write for twelve minutes on the topic “What I would write about just for fun and adventure without worrying about producing a finished story.” Or, “This is the most important thing I want future generations to know about me.”

Joy Writing

Photo by Jurvetson

You know the image of the writer as a starving, tortured soul, each agonized word blurred on the page by sweat beads dripping from his brow. He writes in longhand, on a hand-hewn log desk, by candlelight, wrapped in rags against the wintry blast, with only a crust of bread to sustain his unworthy efforts, and page after page of tormented efforts are wadded into balls and tossed into the fireplace for a bit of added warmth. He makes frequent stops to sharpen the quill with which he writes or to fill the inkwell into which he dips that plume. He may occasionally resort to chopping kindling to gather his erratic thoughts, mind churning in sync with his stomach. In the depths of his heart, he knows these efforts will pay off. His words will be pressed upon millions of pages and stir the hearts of readers with passion second only to his.

You know the image. You may even relate to that image and fear to write because of it. I say to you now, forget it! It’s only a myth. Writing doesn’t have to be this way. Listen to your muse. Loosen up. Write for the sheer fun of it.

“Fun?” Your unspoken question reverberates even unto my heart and ears. Yes! I said fun. Joy. Pick up your pencil and take a joy break.

Maybe before you take write for joy, a little physical action is in order. When was the last time you zoomed around your yard, arms dipping and rising like an airplane? I admit this is not one of my daily activities, but I did try it last summer. I swooped around, dipping and diving, making airplane sounds. I marched like a majorette with knees rising high. I whirled and twirled, stopping just short of falling in a heap on the asphalt. After six or seven minutes, I felt loose as a goose, both mentally and physically. I felt young at heart, and considerably younger in body.

You can do the same thing indoors, moving wildly to magic music, something with a strong beat and lots of energy. For now, try it alone. Or blow some bubbles if you have a bottle around. Catch a few on your hand.

Now, you are ready to write. Start a story with “Once upon a time there was a little (girl or boy, your pick). S/he lived in ...” You take it from there. Make it wild. Transcend gravity. Fly. Swim under the sea. Leap tall buildings with a single bound. Be totally outrageous. Nobody is going to read this, unless you decide to share.

How did that feel? Why don’t you write this way all the time? Because your inner critic won’t let you, that’s why. Talk back to your critic (in my case, Gretchen). Say something like, “Gretchen, I know you have my best interests at heart, but I need a break. I need some joy. Please sit back, have some milk and cookies while I write. You can check it over later.”

By the way, your words will surely flow most freely if you write by hand, on paper, but that’s only one option. Do what feels write to you. Write it your way, with joy.

Start out with easy, childlike topics, and as you grow more comfortable, you’ll find it ever easier to write joy-fully, even about dark topics, knowing that your playful spirit will find the hidden blessing within. You’ll have a fresher attitude, less stress, brighter descriptions. You’ll knock away your blocks with a writer’s rush, and generally juice up your writing. Your writer’s voice will sing. But best of all, it’s fun!

Just in case you were wondering, this child-like joy writing originates on the creative, write side of your brain, not the reasonable, rational, linear left.

Write now: with joy. Follow the directions above and write something fun, like blowing bubbles and hopping inside one to travel away to a magical place.

Clearing the Dead Would

In his essay, Politics and the English Language , George Orwell shared a list of five Writing Tips. Rule #4 is  

Never use the passive where you can use the active.

This may be the single most valuable tip for improving your writing that you’ll every hear. A search for “passive tense” turns up more than a million links to advice urging you to reword your work and frame it in active tense.>
I’m not going to dwell on that advice. I’m going to share the second most important tip:

Get rid of the dead would. 

An example of dead would follows:

In the summer my friend Annie and I would often pack a picnic lunch. Then we’d head for the beach where we would set up our umbrellas. We would rub Coppertone suntan lotion on each others backs and settled onto our towels. Sooner or later the guys would show up and ....

Compare that passage with this revised version that does nothing more than eliminate would:

In the summer my friend Annie and I often packed a picnic lunch. Then we headed for the beach where we set up our umbrellas. We rubbed Coppertone suntan lotion on each others backs and settled onto our towels. Sooner or later the guys showed up and ...

Doesn’t that just brighten the passage right away?
 
The word would does have a legitimate place in the language. For example, it’s appropriate to say, “I would do it if he gave me $50,” or “I would do it for $50.” In both these cases, would is properly used in its conditional sense, not as a verb modifier.

Most of the time would serves only to muddy the voice of your writing. Read through your stories and scrub it clean of any would not directly paired with a condition.

Write now: read through several old stories to see if they have a “woulden” frame and edit as needed.

Profile in Courage

Last month I wrote about Ronni Bennet’s blog, The Elder Storytelling Place, alerting readers that you can submit stories there for publication. I’m a firm believer in taking my own advice, and yesterday’s edition featured my story, “Profile of Courage.”

This story does tell of a specific event in my life. However, it’s more than a mere narrative. I link two stories to tell a tale of a hero of sorts, a young man who dared to try eight times to get a date for prom, and how that story involved and inspired me, at the time and decades later.

It’s not a simple story. It also chronicles the initial flutterings of feminist, activist seeds germinating in my tender heart, long before the faintest green shoots appeared. That’s a lot of story to cover in a mere 720 words.

I originally wrote this story in August, 2001, so it’s well-aged. I didn’t set out to write with any specific purpose other than to chronicle the memory and immortalize Walter’s courage. It has been sitting in my file, both on the computer and in print, for the duration. Now, as I thumbed through the pile looking for something suitable for Ronni’s blog, it rose to the top. It didn’t need much work. Pure writing, straight from the heart, usually tells its own story more eloquently than we’d be able to do from our own wits and efforts. After all this time the story still rang true, to both purpose and my voice.

I offer this story to the world at large as a testament to courage, and an example of how some stories need to ripen and come of age before it’s time to press them into service. It never hurts to have a story on hand when opportunity presents itself. What have you got lurking in your archives? I’ll bet at least one story would fly high on The Elder Storytelling Place. Write your own profile in courage and give it a shot.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

The Sound of a Voice on Paper

My e-mail today held a Mother’s Day story sent by a writer friend. Something didn’t quite click when I read the story. Is this a flashback story? I wondered. The timing seems off, and ... this does not sound like her writing! This isn’t the way she puts things.

This experience sparks several thoughts, and the first relates to my perception that it did not sound like my friend’s writing. I know the sound of her voice on paper, also known as her Writer's Voice, and this voice wasn’t hers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about writer’s voice lately, and realized that our writing voice can be compared to an opera diva’s voice. When she first begins to sing, the diva sings naturally, like anyone else, though her gift for singing may soon become apparent. Many people have lovely voices, perhaps even the potential to become divas, but the vast majority of them are content to simply sing for worship or pleasure, and their tunes touch the hearts of all who hear.

In contrast, the diva spends years studying, practicing, and learning new ways of projecting and using her voice. Its glory eventually thrills audiences. But all the training and coaching serves only to remove rough edges and distractions from her voice, allowing her truest, purest sounds to emerge. She still sounds like herself — her best, most polished self.

Lifestory writers may go through a similar process. We all begin by jotting down simple stories or letters, some with more natural polish than others. Most people who are primarily interested in leaving a written record of their lives for their families will be content with single drafts or simple edits, and their families will be thrilled with their efforts.

Some of us desire to hone our craft. We read, study, and practice new ways of presenting those stories to polish our technique. Years later, our words may flow like silk ribbons along the page, but our stories will still sound like we wrote them. We may avoid grammatical errors and distractions, and include more colorful descriptions, but they are still our stories, told the way only we can tell them. The longer we write, the more consistent and recognizable this voice becomes.

I know my friend did not intend to pass this story off as her own work, but even if she had, I would not have been fooled, because I know her voice.

Beyond the matter of writer’s voice, this story raises a couple of points about sharing stories by e-mail:

• Sharing stories via e-mail is lots of fun, and an easy way to delight your family and friends. Pasting them into the body of the e-mail is fine, though they will be easier to save for posterity if you attach them as a document.Be sure to include a title, and be extra sure to include your name. I encourage you to enter your name as Copyright 2007, Your Name, or © 2007, Your Name.

• It’s fine to forward those cute anonymous stories that are caught in endless e-mail loops. But as a writer, you need to take extra care to make it clear you did not write the story yourself, or you may confuse people. My friend was in a hurry, and hit forward without adding a personal note or any sort of explanation. Simply listing “Author Unknown” at the bottom would removed any doubt.

Your own stories are unique and special because you wrote them. Give them the respect they deserve, and showcase them proudly, with your name at the top and/or bottom, and a copyright notice. Your work is protected by copyright whether you include the notice or not, but don't settle into complacency with that assurance. Don’t worry about seeming arrogant — think of it as a way of managing respect. Mentioning the copyright shows that you respect your own work and encourages others to do likewise.

I’ll be thrilled if someone eventually forwards one of my stories back to me from cyberspace, and I hope when that happens, my name is still attached. But if it isn’t, by that time I hope half the world will recognize the sound of my voice on paper.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Countdown: 51 days until the release of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing on July 1. Stay tuned for ordering details.