What I learned: The Story of My Life by Helen Keller

A good story deserves to be told well. you’d be hard pressed to find someone who would deny the inspirational power of Helen Keller’s life. Blind and deaf, in the 1800′s no less, and still she graduated from college, became an author, and was an advocate for people with disabilities. But you would read her book regardless of her abilities, because it’s written well. I shared some of her poetic prose on this blog.

What this book taught me was the value of vivid description, and vivid doesn’t equal long. I was regularly immersed in a scene she described, then humbled when I remembered she couldn’t see what she was writing about. But when I thought about it further, I realized she saw it just as I did, through the words. I would love for my descriptions to help a blind person “see” one of my scenes. I think it’s a subtle, learned by experience skill that one can develop, but I also believe there’s a splash of God-given talent that the great ones possess.

I don’t know if I’ve got that particular talent, but The Story of My Life motivated me to work on the skills.

Keep Discovering Writing.

What I learned: House Rules by Jodi Picoult

This book introduced me to multiple first person narrators. It also reminded me of how much value of good research is to a novel. Two particular concepts, Asperger’s Syndrome and Forensic Science, were featured in this story, and something tells me Jodi Picoult did a little reading to prepare. The details add such a richness to the story.

I thought she did a fantastic job getting into the mind of the family affected by Asperger’s. I found myself relating with the mom, sympathizing with the brother, and intrigued by the main character, Jacob. Stephen King said,

book buyers want a good story to take with them on the airplane, something that will first facinate them, then pull them in and keep them turning the pages. This happens, I think, when readers recognize the people in a book, their behaviors, their surroundings, and their talk. (On Writing p. 160)

This book did that for me. Her story is a great example of the opportunity writers have to introduce their readers to ideas and issues that are important. It’s also an example of the persuasive capacity inherent in a work of fiction.

Even though I understood the characters, and would totally expect it to come from them, I still struggle with the existence of crass language in books. If I were living the story, and one of the characters spoke the words around me, I wouldn’t be phased. There’s just something about reading them that makes me squirm.

God bless the poets

Ten years ago, my wife and I made our Forever Vow, and to celebrate I enlisted the help of a team of poets. These men and women have the remarkable talent of telling stories in song, and their musical gifts provided the soundtrack of our first decade. Here are some song excerpts and the reason they were selected. I’m indebted to this group for saying so well the things I was thinking.

I called the compilation “Mountains” as a representation of the figurative and literal mountains that form the landscape of our lives so far. We lived in the Smokies for seven of those years, and a trip to the Rockies forged a powerful memory. But it’s the metaphorical mountains that presented the challenges. Andrew Peterson used a different metaphor, but he expressed our hearts exactly in “Dancing in the Minefields;” here’s the chorus:

We went dancing in the minefields
We went sailing in the storm
And it was harder than we dreamed
But I believe that’s what the promise is for

Song two was provided by one of the greats, and represents our shared homesickness for the glorious hills of North Carolina. We cherished our time there, built many great friendships, and are always eager to return. Mr. Taylor knows the feeling:

In my mind I’m gone to Carolina.
Can’t you see the sunshine.
Can’t you just feel the moon shining
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine to hit me from behind.
Yes, I’m gone to Carolina in my mind.

Love this place!

Caedmon’s Call, one of my absolute favorites, gave us the second song of our second year together. It’s to signify the birth of our first son, Caedmon, and the next week we spent in a neonatal ICU wondering if he was going to survive. Caedmon has Cerebral Palsy, and that truth stirs questions in the deepest part of us. I’ll let the poets speak for me.

late at night I wonder why
sometimes I wonder why
sometimes I’m so tired
I don’t even try
seems everything around me fails
but I hold on to the promise
that there is a reason

he makes all things good
he makes all things good
there’s a time to live and a time to die
a time for wonder and to wonder why
cause there is a reason
there is a reason

This is Caedmon at his 7th birthday party.

John Denver lends his voice for this next one. My sister was in a car accident that landed her in Craig Rehabilitation Hospital with a broken back and the threat of never walking again. Our family converged on Denver to support her and each other. Gina and Caedmon eventually got to share a physical therapy session and share an experience that the rest of our family can never fully understand. I love the second line of this verse, and think of Gina and Caedmon working for every physical step, and the rest of our family figuratively walking on.

Now he walks in quiet solitude the forests and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake – Rocky Mountain High

Gina and Caedmon at Disney World a few years after the accident.

Caedmon’s Call contributed again, with a sweet song about Cliff and Danielle Young, the lead singers of the band, having their first son. Andrew is our third, but the truth of this song resonates with us.

Our vows they started breathing
and they took on flesh and blood
and we held them in our arms
and tasted God was good

I fell in love with you
and that love became something new
it added a name and it added a smile
it keeps getting bigger every further mile
There on your bended knee
we sewed the seeds of our history
they’re coming up stronger
than we ever could have longed
love keeps growing more love (Love Grows Love, I don’t know the people in the video.)

Andrew's rockin' the fedora; his brother Jackson as his wing man.

The next song represents a tough season in our lives, and Laura Story penned a beautiful song that spoke truth into our struggle. It’s called Blessings. (you can hear her tell why she wrote the song.)

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home

‘Cause what if Your blessings
come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
are Your mercies in disguise

There were a few more songs, but I chose these for their particularly poetic strength. I’m grateful to these artists, and their willingness to share their hearts in song. God bless the poets.

Keep Discovering Writing!

The Writing Routine of C.S. Lewis

My routine today? Up at 3:00 AM for no apparent reason so I spent the breaking dawn at the computer. Other times I write into the deep night, sometimes in the middle of the day, in the car, on an iPad, in a notebook, sending texts to myself…

I’ve yet to figure the whole routine thing out, but C.S. Lewis was kind enough to share his in his autobiography, Surprised by Joy. Tell me you don’t see a little Hobbit in the patterns of Mr. Lewis. (I know Tolkien wrote the Hobbit, but I also know they were great friends, so it’s not crazy to think Bilbo was inspired by Clive, at least a teensie bit.)

I would choose always to breakfast at exactly eight and to be at my desk by nine, there to read or write till one. If a cup of good tea or coffee could be brought me about eleven, so much the better.

As step or two out of doors for a pint of beer would not do quite so well; for a man does not want to drink alone and if you meet a friend in the taproom the break is likely to be extended beyond its ten minutes.

At one precisely lunch should be on the table; and by two at the latest I would be on the road. Not, except at rare intervals, with a friend. Walking and talking are two very great pleasures, but it is a mistake to combine them. Our own noise blots out the sounds and silences of the outdoor world; and talking leads almost inevitably to smoking, and then farewell to nature as far as one of our senses is concerned. The only friend to walk with is one who so exactly shares your taste for each mood of the countryside that a glance, a halt, or at most a nudge, is enough to assure us that the pleasure is shared.

The return from the walk, and the arrival of tea, should be exactly coincident, and not later than a quarter past four. Tea should be taken in solitude, …for eating and reading are two pleasures that combine admirably. Of course not all books are suitable for mealtime reading. It would be a kind of blasphemy to read poetry at table. What one wants is a gossipy, formless book which can be opened anywhere…

At five a man should be at work again, and at it till seven. Then, at the evening meal and after, comes the time for talk, or, failing that, for lighter reading; and unless you are making a night of it with your cronies there is no reason why you should ever be in bed later than eleven.

That’s all it takes to write more than 60 books, sell a few million, and be considered one of the greatest contributors to literature the world has ever known. I guess I need to start drinking tea and taking walks.

How ’bout you? What’s your routine?

The Freelance Writer

Of the options available to me, I’ll go with “medieval mercenary warrior;” it’s certainly cooler than “wannabe writer begging for employment.” As a former college football player, I find it funny that the freelancers went from dragon-slayers-for-hire to the guys writing about the dragon slayers, and here I am potentially writing about football players.

I’m striving to write as my full-time vocation and I feel like the Hollywood waiter looking for his big break. Where’s the employer looking to pay me a salary to stay at home and just be creative? Why hasn’t anyone called and hired me write about whatever I want, on my own schedule?

I’m picturing a comfortable office overlooking a serene pond, the ideal dog resting at my feet, and the creative freedom to create multiple works of literary genius. Am I asking too much?

Chevy Chase, as Andy Farmer, in Funny Farm. He played a writer in the Fletch series too.

Well, in the meantime, I’m starting small and focusing on diligence, trusting that the farm will come. I opened an account on elance.com, created my profile, and submitted proposals for six or seven jobs. Maybe I’ll be writing movie reviews, editorials for a new men’s magazine, sports columns, articles for a Christian teen magazine, or helping a preacher convert his sermons into a book… or maybe none of the above.

I reached out to two of the magazines who published me before to gauge their interest in me writing for them again. I’m still producing copy on my next book, but the most exciting mercenary news came from a magazine called The Old Schoolhouse. About a month ago, I submitted three proposals for articles, and last night they emailed to accept two of them. My articles will run in their August and September issues, starting with a rewrite of Nobody’s Normal. They’re only paying me $40 per article; however, I’m writing, I’m writing about topics that are important to me, and I’m getting paid to do it. I can see the Mallards floating on the pond now…

(If you’re interested in getting signed up with elance.com, I’d appreciate you using the link in this article; it helps me out somehow.)

There’s no proper point of view

I’ve written a memoir and started a couple works of fiction, but I’ve yet to attempt a novel. A few ideas have made it to paper and more are bouncing around in my head, but I’m not sure if you, the reader, gets to know about those yet. Am I blogging in the first person or is Ryan blogging in the third person?

As I’m discovering writing, the POV question is one I’ve frequented. I read a quote from an author who said (and I’m roughly paraphrasing to the point of completely making this up), “all decent novels should be written in the third person.” I think my theoretical source has a book-worm chewing a hole in his brain. I do enjoy third person novels (The Hobbit and the LOTR trilogy come to mind), I just disagree with the idea that third person is the only way to go.

I read a Nicholas Sparks book (only to research POV! I swear I didn’t like it. Okay, maybe I liked it a little, but don’t tell anyone) and I liked how he used the first person POV. But I began reading a novel yesterday that has my POV spinning.

I have a Recommended Reading page on one of my other blogs, Nobody’s Normal. The books on the list deal with special needs from a non-fiction perspective or are fiction that feature a character with special needs. A reader recommended House Rules by Jodi Picoult because it stars a teenager with Asperger’s, but little did they know they were broadening my writing horizons.

Not only is House Rules a first person novel, but so far it’s being told from the perspective of four different people. Chapter one is titled “Emma” and is written from the mother’s POV. Chapter two is “Theo,” the protagonist’s younger brother, and it’s in his voice, accented by a new font (I’ve never see a font switch in a novel before). Jacob (he’s the one with Asperger’s) tells the story in chapter three, and chapter for comes from Rich, a local cop. Four different first person narrators (so far) with four different fonts, and I LOVE it. (As it turns out, my POV might be off. This novel might actually be considered “Close” third person POV. As you can see, I’m still discovering writing.)

The story is compelling, but it’s the different voices that have me so  intrigued. I’m only fifty pages in, but I’ve already learned that a novel can be told from any POV, as long as it’s a good story and the narrator is good at telling it.

By the way, Nathan Bransford wrote a helpful article on the strategic comparison of First Person vs. Third Person.

Which POV do you prefer to read, and from which do you prefer to write?

Created

God did it: Jupiter, butterflies, sand dollars, koala bears, everything. Beautiful.

 

To participate, go to this week’s Eleven Word Devotion.

Eleven Word Devotion #2

Inspired by the 100 Word Challenge, I wanted a challenge that blended my desire to write with the Word of God, the Bible. John 1:1 (hence the eleven) says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” God created with words, and He let’s us do the same; I think that’s awesome.

This is the challenge. Every Saturday morning, I’ll provide a word, a name, a phrase, a verse, or a couple of verses as a focus for your creative thinking. You have exactly eleven words to write a response. Meditate on the prompt and craft an eleven word act of writing that points us towards God – an Eleven Word Devotion.

To enter, publish your Eleven Word Devotion to your blog, and then type the link into a comment beneath that week’s prompt. Be sure to include a link back to the EWD for the week, so others can participate. You can use the EWD graphic too. (You can see an example, here)

Part of the experience is to read one another’s Eleven Word Devotions and comment – consider it a form of blogosphere fellowship.

The prompt for the week of February 4, 2012 is:

 

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
(Genesis 1:1)

Poetic Prose: Helen Keller

The Story of My Life

“Is it not true, then, that my life with all its limitations touches at many points the life of the World Beautiful? Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.

Sometimes, it is true, a sense of isolation enfolds me like a cold mist as I sit alone and wait at life’s shut gate. Beyond there is light, and music, and sweet companionship; but I may not enter. Fate, silent, pitiless, bars the way. Fain would I question his imperious decree; for my heart is still undisciplined and passionate; but my tongue will not utter the bitter, futile words that rise to my lips, and they fall back into my heart like unshed tears. Silence sits immense upon my soul. Then comes hope with a smile and whispers, ‘There is joy in self-forgetfulness.’ So I try to make the light in others’ eyes my sun, the music in others’ ears my symphony, the smile on others’ lips my happiness.”

Helen’s words inspired me to write a post at Nobody’s Normal. Read The Sun in Your Smile.

100 word Challenge: Wednesday on the Couch

In a continuing effort to improve as a writer, I’ve added this exercise to my weekly drills. Writers from all over are prompted and must write a response in 100 words. It demands efficiency, encourages creativity, and I think it’s fun. Let me know what you think, and click on the image above if you’d like to participate.

This week’s prompt was: …Wednesday…

Without further adieu…

This couch is my solace, and my prison; like being flogged on a massage table.

“How have you been?” Doctor Weaver’s nice, but she’s just like everybody else.

“Ignored.” I wasn’t in the mood.

“Would you prefer taking a break for today?” She tried to conceal a grin, but I noticed.

“I would actually.”

“Okay.” Another smirk, not hidden so well this time. “I have some stuff to finish from yesterday, and some to prepare for tomorrow, so don’t worry about it.”

“Figures. I’ll see you next week, Doctor.”

“See you, Wednesday.”