The Challenge of the Novel

Before I write what I planned to write about today i.e. the challenge for me of writing a novel I am going to unload about the glitches I have encountered this afternoon while trying to do just that.
Almost every time I start to read a new novel I am once again inspired and challenged to try my hand at it. I am part way into Anna Quindlen's new book "Every Single One" and like the kid with nose pressed to the candy store window I yearn to have what she has i.e. the ability to write in this literary genre and to do it very well.
Thus inspired I had some technical difficulties to overcome (not my strong suit). I bought a PC last year and have never had all of the material from my IMac transferred to it. The novel that I started a couple of years ago must be retrieved by typing it, printing it and then typing it into the PC. At least that is true until I decide to pay a techie to do the transferring.
Faced with that I started the project only to immediately discover that my old printer needed new ink cartridges. When following the procedures to do this nothing worked. I got a bunch of instructions about changing fonts etc. that was totally confusing. So I had to let that go.
Then instead of working on the novel I decided that I would do a blog about how difficult I find this genre. I have recently learned how to upload photos to post on my blog and I enjoy this process a great deal. It is great fun for me to page through photos and find just the right one for my title.
So I did this. Again following the instructions Mary has give me I could not upload the chosen photo. Next up came an indication that perhaps I needed to order more credits to pay for more photos. I proceeded to do that and what do you think happened? Right!!! More glitches. Nowhere could I simply buy new credits on an already established account. When trying to order the new credits I was presented with a form to register (which I already was). I was then told that the user name I put in was taken. Of course it was taken!!!!! BY ME!!!!! So now I need to see if Mary can help me once more to unsnarl this credit buying thing. Result - no photo for this blog. But I can always add one later when the glitches are ironed out. There. You may be bored by all this but I feel better.
Now to what I have to say about writing novels. The only thing I could print up before the ink gave out was my musings about a plot summary. I will share that here. As I have stated in the aim of my blog it is about poetry and the making of poetry and other reflections. This post comes under 'other reflections' this being on the making of a novel.
As aspiring writers we are told to write about what we know. So what did I want to write about I asked myself? I discovered that I did have a theme and it was redemption. And pondering redemption it came to me that I also wanted to include the unredeemed. I wanted to investigate what that is. Is anything unredeemed? And what is redemption itself about?
Plotwise I will be taking much from my own story. I had held the idea that in a novel everything had to be made up. But then I discovered by doing some research that many writer's write about their own lives and the lives of people they have known. Virginia Wolfe and Henry James were two such writers.
A woman once reported that in reading a Henry James novel she came upon a description of a room that described to the last detail a room in her own house. I know that there are many novelists who indeed do make all of it up -the entire world of fantasy and science fiction has to be so. But since I see myself as lacking imagination I figured to go back to square one and write about what I know.
In taking The UnRedeemed as my title I reflected on the song Amazing Grace. As I looked at my own life and the lives of many that I knew there was a common theme. To some degree we were all living lives that we made up. Phillip Roth references this in his writing often. He makes up characters based on his life and the lives of those he has known and he tells us that these characters are inventing themselves.
So the question arises "If we are making ourselves up and we aren't really who we are then WHO ARE WE? WHO is it that gets redeemed?
My own story has been very intertwined for the past twenty years with Jordan's story. Now that our relationship has ended it seems a good time to take another look at what that was all about. I had managed a lot of research and had written about seventeen pages of text when I abandoned my effort on novel writing. I am ready to work on it once more.
The two main characters are in a relationship that is not about marriage. They had an astrological composite chart of the relationship done one time that said that the relationship was about two people trying to bring out the best in each other. The novel then would be about psychological development. I am tempted to go deeper and bring in self realization and non duality but if I have any hope (faint) of being published I don't think that would sell.
The two characters will constantly bump into how they are opposites while being held in a crucible by love. Initially there will be a power struggle which most relationships have.
Christian is the prototype of the unredeemed in a way that is very obvious. He does not have an exclusive on it because psychologically very few people are fully redeemed. Because he is so dysfunctional he is an easy rack upon which others can hang their projections. The Catherine character does exactly that with her own dark side. The story will show among other things the process of her redeeming that side of herself
Christian is doing his own projecting but it is the best in him that he disowns that he projects onto Catherine. She can see what he is hiding and it is what draws her to him. Over the years we see how their interaction can become the agent for transformation. Who gets transformed? And how? They are the lost of Amazing Grace. The novel will examine how 'found' they become and here we will have a deeper look at what is redeemed and what is unredeemed and is anything redeemed?
In addition to these main characters I would like to have some subplots for interest. I will look at the people in my life to see who might have a story that fits my theme. From my many Alanon meetings I think everyone has.
A couple of people stand out. My friend Claire has an interesting history. She is a psychic, an astrologer, reads Tarot. She has never married and has lived in some interesting places - San Francisco, Sante Fe and Mexico as well as being originally from New Zealand. I have known a number of people caught in alcoholism or drug addiction whose stories are very much about redemption. I will not be writing about anyone in my family. I did that once and it was not a good idea.
Until I can retrieve the material on the novel from my IMac I will continue work on the "God" book and I will revise poems and write new ones. I will write.

Newsy

I am being totally lazy today. I have laundry to finish and plants to water and I just don't feel like doing either chore.
I have had a busy and enjoyable weekend. On Friday afternoon Dorothy and I went to see the movie Cedar Rapids at Camelview 5. It was a charming comedy about a very naive mid-Western insurance agent who gets on a plane for the first time in his life and goes to a business convention. He gets a baptism of fire re the not so nice side of life and comes out of it more mature but without losing a drop of integrity. We decided to save money eating out so went over to Coco's and had some decent food and quality chat.
Yesterday Danny came by to pick me up at 5:30 and we drove out to Sara's new house where she was giving a birthday party for Marth. There were seven of us for dinner, a delicious spread of baked chicken with onion gravy, bacon braised green beans, yummy mashed potatoes made with cream and butter, and a green salad with basil vinegar dressing. The cake co-starred with Marth as the evening's standout. The theme was Farmville and the cake was labeled Marthaville. It was a sheet cake, the sides piped with scrumptious dark chocolate, the top was green with a blue pond. And present were a party sheep, party duck and party pig all complete with party hats. The corners were decorated with hand made confectionary flowers and to complete the Farmville theme there were rows of fruits and vegetables. After dinner we had the traditional singing of Happy Birthday and the opening of presents.
We have had the most delightful weather this week and I have sat out a bit and also done some gardening. Thought to do more today but the idea fell by the wayside in the train of my laziness. I have not even bothered to pick up the Sunday paper. I get so much of my news from the computer that I sometimes read only the sports pages and the entertainment page.
Not much on my plate so far for this coming week. Dorothy will be away again so no Friday movie with her. May see if Sara wants to fit in her birthday celebration with me before going into surgery the following week. That will be some week what with Sara and Lis having lap band surgery on Tuesday while Phil is having his final pre op tests and then on Wednesday Phil will have his prostate removed. There will be a lot of praying going on. And for two weeks Linda has been in the hospital as the result of a fall followed by having a stroke while in the hospital!! She has a broken arm and a broken leg. Lots of prayer needed for her recovery.
And we also need prayer for Bob as he goes through his post detox program of recovery from alcoholism.
And that updates my news.

The Cypress Trees

Oft, in the sunless April day
I walk the corridor of trees
Cypress I think they are
death-gloomed like the
darkening sky.
They speak to me of cemeteries
grief
and loss.

Their blackened fingers
pointing to the sky
at times shrouded in a
ghostly mist.
The air filled with a
relentless, heavy brooding.

I walk slowly
lead-weighted like
the sky above
oppressed by the blackness
of the trees
and the endless sorrowing
of the world.

Yesterday I mistakenly used page 57 to get my line with which to work. So today I am using line 5 on page 56 which was "Oft,in the sunless April day" For me this has been a way to get back into writing and most especially into spontaneity. To simply put my fingers on the keys and see what comes out of them is so much easier a way to write than to have to 'think' of what to say and then worry about whether or not it is any good. There is a detachment when looking at what the 'writer'within' produces.
Sometimes it lights me up, sometimes nothing makes my soul sing. There can be a jewel buried in the midst of a piece or an inspiration for something new or a line that simply rings true. And this technique seems very appropriate for writing poetry which is my favorite genre.

Emergence

Yesterday I shared a writing tool that I learned from Natalie Goldberg. Synchronistically my niece Mal posted a game about picking up the closest book, going to page 56, then down to line 5 and putting that line in as your status on Facebook. She did not know the next step. Returning to Natalie's tool - this is part of her tool and the next step is to write a piece that is focused on the line you got from the book. You are not to TRY to write but simply put down what comes to mind. The point is for the ego, the tryer, to get out of the way in order for the "writer within" to speak.
My line was "they try their thin wings and dance in the beam"

At first it seemed about telling a story but then up came strongly that it was to be in a poem. Here we go.........

Emergence

Suspended in the chrysallis
of childhood in New England,
in the safe dark of it's
small hills and ubiquitous
trees mostly hiding the sky
I lay curled tight-wrapped
like a mummy.
No need to move,
to reach out,
to take risks.

Years pass and the
comforting darkness
becomes too small.
Cracks appear
through which I perceive
vastness.
Terrifying at first and yet
promising Truth.

I imagine being
the vastness.
and a memory comes of
being in a soaring plane,
doing stunts
feeling immense, wide joy,
that I was born for this.

Suddenly the shell completely
cracks
and clinging to its frail remains
the wetness drying,
I am aware of hosts of others
out there in the vastness
as they try their thin wings
and dance in the beam.


What a fun, fun thing that was to do!!!!! How by not trying the words like the emergence from the chrysallis just come.

Thanks for reading.

To Awaken the Muse

Of late my Muse seems to have fallen asleep on the job. I have done
nothing to try to awaken him. I have alternately beaten myself up for not writing or just ignored the whole thing. This week I have decided to take matters in hand, prime the pump, just do it.
So I harked back to a book that my friend Kathy Crook recommended to me. It was Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. My smug response was to not take her suggestion because I was so sure that I did not need any help. Within a few days a book arrived in the mail from David O'Hare, Lisa's former husband. With a sense of LIFE saying "Got cha." I opened the package and took out Writing Down the Bones! I recalled Mary Palumbo, my Jungian dream therapist, telling me that when anything came up doubled to pay close attention and I did.
The book had a lot to say to me. It was where I first read the idea that "I" was not the writer. Natalie told me that the writer lived within. I was the vehicle through which the writer within could express. She also gave me a lot of useful tools (which I had thought I could easily do without). I have decided to use one of the tools to attempt to awaken the Muse. If I would not be the vehicle nothing of the writer within would come forth.
One of the tools was to open a book and put my finger on a line of text and then use that text as a writing exercise. Not surprisingly a few minutes ago I was looking at some stuff on Facebook and Mal was suggesting that we go get the book nearest to us, turn to page 56, move down to line five and put that in our status. I went to my library and chose a book at the end of the shelf that was easiest to reach. I followed the rules of her exercise and came up with a line of poetry which read - "Try their thin wings and dance in the warm beam....." Here was one of Natalie's exercises coming at me out of the blue. (the past two days of gorgeous weather I have been sitting outside in a rocker with my head thrown back simply contemplating the blueness of the sky).
I now have a title for the next blog. In the exercise I will not TRY to write well. I will simply write whatever comes up in relation to 'trying thin wings in the warm beam.' I look forward to it. What will come "out of the blue?" Will it awaken the Muse? Tune in tomorrow to the next episode!!!!!

Woolgathering

I keep thinking of getting back to writing, getting past thinking I have too little talent so why bother. I can just write for the sake of it, have my say because I like to share my stories. I am not in charge of my writing anyway. What comes out is what the "writer within" has to say. It is not an ego project. I have to show up and whatever gift there is will emerge. As Lis said recently the one thing she knows about creative work is that you have to do it.

From standing in the intense fear yesterday I have a sense of fragility, of deep vulnerability, like a hollowed-out reed. I felt the way I used to feel after a long sesshin (Zen retreat). There is deep pain for the suffering of the world, a momentary sense of being undefended, open, bowed. I am appreciating it as my pattern is to go so quickly into fear and use it to protect myself. There is such a longing for all of us to be free - for the lost to be found.

I watched the last of the Masterpiece Theater show Any Human Heart yesterday and was moved to tears when it ended. I had found myself critical at times of the protagonist's behavior and character but at the end as he reviewed his life and loves, his work and interests I had only an embracing compassion for this one human heart which indeed could have been "any human heart." I felt our transience, our vulnerability, how much we matter as frail, flawed expressions of LOVE.

I find myself considering doing a long retreat, like a three month stay at Christ-in-the-Desert. Being silent and solitary under the New Mexico skies has real appeal. The time is not now. Perhaps next year.

Phil said an interesting thing today to which I could relate i.e. how much value there can be especially for people who don't connect emotionally, in simply sharing space. I can just see him in his taciturn way out on the great expanse of their ranch just doing chores at his dad's side. I understood because one of my favorite things is to sit by a fire with a companion, both of us reading and being silent. I also recall working in the garden with my dad or playing a piece of his favorite music on the piano. No conversation, yet a sense of being connected.
Because I am so emotionally centered and more likely to be expressive I have not valued the just being together in silence enough. I do think that love is doing the connecting in the silence. It is the emotion present though not expressed.

I so enjoyed having Danny and Joy on Saturday and Sunday. He is a good companion and we are very harmonious. He is very intelligent, sensitive and emotionally available. We spent our afternoon and evening watching the golf and the Super Bowl. Got in some visiting. He took all of the frost cloth off and folded it up for me which I so appreciated. He said as he was leaving that he is happier than at any time in his life. He has so aptly named his dog Joy. When I closed the door on him and Joy and turned to my empty house I felt a strong sadness at being alone.I am a coper and adjust to most anything but I think I mind living alone more than I let myself feel. I grew up in the midst of our large Irish clan and I raised an outsized family. It sometimes stuns me that I of all people - such a people person, valuing community so much - am spending my end days alone!

In her blog "Forrest Gump was onto Something" Mary wrote about how chocolate is tempered. It is a perfect image for Roshi's koan "not too much - not too little". In my comment to her I retold the story of his giving us that koan at sesshin in Tucson years ago. How at first it made LIFE sound beige and how I knew it was not beige. I asked him "How about great sex?" and "How about fireworks?" And suddenly I got it. Everything is just as it is - not too much and not too little. And so too the making of chocolate - tempering being a technique whereby like the practice of Ikebana we can appreciate the "is-ness" of chocolate.

Finishing up with a sort of "woolgathering" poem:

Emptiness

I have nothing to say-
words all burned out of me.
I am empty
as the shouted silence
of the ancient tea bowl.

There is nothing to do-
but sit quietly,
unmoving as the sere
red mesas
whose silence speaks of
sacred space.

There is no one to be-
but the tea bowl,
the red mesas
and ten thousand, thousand
other things.

Thanks for reading!