I’m on the road today, wending my way home from the Retreat by the Sea, a writer’s retreat organized by Writer’s Digest. It was a fabulous weekend. This particular retreat is special because you are given the opportunity to have your own work reviewed during intensive sessions that focus on preparing your manuscript for submission to industry professionals. Other sessions are jam-packed with information about craft and shaping a story.
Our instructors were the talented author and reviewer Hallie Ephron; Paula Munier, a Senior Literary Agent and Content Strategist at Talcott Notch Literary Services; and Phil Sexton, Publisher of Writer’s Digest.
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| Discussion with agent Paula Munier |
I had always been curious about what a writer’s retreat would be like, and this experience exceeded my expectations. In addition to the workshops and learning sessions, there was a wonderful bonhomie as the attendees got to know each other. I came away from the retreat feeling refreshed, renewed, and optimistic about the future of publishing. If you ever have a chance to go to a retreat (expecially this one!), I highly recommend that you seize the opportunity.
Have you been to a writer’s retreat before? How was the experience for you?
I’m on the road today, wending my way home from the Retreat by the Sea, a writer’s retreat organized by Writer’s Digest. It was a fabulous weekend. This particular retreat is special because you are given the opportunity to have your own work reviewed during intensive sessions that focus on preparing your manuscript for submission to industry professionals. Other sessions are jam-packed with information about craft and shaping a story.
Our instructors were the talented author and reviewer Hallie Ephron; Paula Munier, a Senior Literary Agent and Content Strategist at Talcott Notch Literary Services; and Phil Sexton, Publisher of Writer’s Digest.
 |
| Discussion with agent Paula Munier |
I had always been curious about what a writer’s retreat would be like, and this experience exceeded my expectations. In addition to the workshops and learning sessions, there was a wonderful bonhomie as the attendees got to know each other. I came away from the retreat feeling refreshed, renewed, and optimistic about the future of publishing. If you ever have a chance to go to a retreat (expecially this one!), I highly recommend that you seize the opportunity.
Have you been to a writer’s retreat before? How was the experience for you?
Speaking of learning about the past, as Clare did yesterday, I just received a blast from my family’s past. A big truck arrived at Chez Kathryn on Sunday morning, bearing a treasure trove of inherited family artifacts. I use the word “artifacts” advisedly. Some of the items we just received, while interesting and beautiful, are also a tad…unusual.
For example: there’s a Victorian-era bronze replica of the Farnese Bull being wrestled to the ground by men wearing fig leaves. I call this piece “The Creature,” but it actually depicts the Roman myth of Dirce. According to the rather misogynistic tale, Dirce is tied to the bull as punishment for her “wrong” behavior. (I’m ashamed to admit to Clare that I had to look up that info on Google).
Then there’s a pair of carved wooden busts picked up during Grand Tours undertaken by 19th-century kinfolk. I have reunited the couple for the moment on a fireplace mantel.
There’s also a Civil War-era saber. The saber was discovered hidden inside the walls of the family home in Whistler, Alabama. (When I unpacked that little treasure, I of course swung it over my head and let loose with a Rebel Yell, in honor of my vanquished ancestor.)
And as interesting as that saber is, it can’t hold a candle compared to the Crusader sword and Assyrian shield, which have yet to find placement on the walls of our extremely contemporary home.
Then there’s a silver, wagon-wheel thingee. I can’t figure out what the heck the thing is. It’s very ornate, and obviously was wheeled out for some kind of formal purpose. A special wine presentation, perhaps? Anyone have a clue about this one? Clare? I’m thinking about calling it the Chariot of the Bacchus Gods. It’ll come in handy during our housewarming party, I’m sure.
I was going to discuss writer quirks and superstitions today, really I was. But I think my rambling and these pictures give you an idea of the theme I had in mind: as writers, we all inherit our share of odd quirks. Some of those quirks inevitably find their way into our writing. At the rate I’m going, I foresee writing a family saga spanning decades and generations–something very James Michener-ish. Or perhaps more torrid, like THE THORN BIRDS.
So my question for you today: what odd quirk have you inherited as a writer? Or what have you inherited from your ancestors that’s bizarre or fascinating?
I went to my 40th high school reunion last weekend, and I’m so glad I did. I had a small and treasured group of friends in school, but over the years my peripatetic lifestyle had caused me to lose touch with them. When it dawned on me that our graduation digits were turning the Big 4-0, I decided to step on a plane and head from Los Angeles to Boston.
As anyone who has attended a major reunion for the first time already knows, it felt strange at first to suddenly reconnect with people I hadn’t seen in decades. I remembered us all as kids, but now we were all older adults. I had to quickly reconcile my memories of the past with the mature present. The gangly, shy boy I’d known is now the dapper periodontist; the former tom boy and gal pal is now the accomplished television professional.
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| Getting my first wheels, circa ’73 |
I think we attend reunions to reconnect, not just with others, but with a sense of ourselves from an earlier time. As I sat at the reunion table, I tried to remember what I was like in high school, what my ambitions had been back then. I remember that I loved English class, especially creative writing assignments. But I didn’t connect my vague enjoyment of writing with any notion of a future career. I come from a family of scientists and academicians. Our clan regards writing as a tool, not an aspiration. I thought the ambition of becoming a writer was only meant for the literati and artistes.
I wish I’d known when I was young that “real” people can become writers. It would have helped me get started earlier. So, here’s my advice to all the high school English teachers out there: invite a local novelist to speak about writing to your class. You might just be giving that quiet girl in the third row a vision of her future.
Question for you all: have you ever braved a high school reunion before? How did it go?
Update: I just added a picture of me “back in the day”–thanks to Jordan for the suggestion!
Every so often my habit of aimless Web surfing pays off. This week I discovered a site over at WriteWords that checks the number of times particular words and phrases are used in a manuscript.
I’m already in the habit of checking for words and phrases I tend to frequently overuse: “just then”; “at that moment”; any characters with “blonde” hair. (One time, a beta reader pointed out that every single minor character in my story was a blonde.) But I plan to use the tool to find stealth offenders–words or phrases I repeat without being aware of it.
For example, I just ran the tool against a few recent chapters, and discovered that the word “eyebrows” is repeated four times in five chapters. Yikes. That’s a red flag. It probably means I’ve overloaded some sections with too many of what I call “dialogue tics and gestures”: a raising of eyebrows; furrowing a brow; reaching for a drink and taking a sip.
In the phrase frequency finder, I found six instances of “began to.” Ack! Either a character does something or he doesn’t do it. There’s no “begin to.” I’ll have to go edit those out. The thing I like in particular about the phrase frequency finder is that you can search for phrases of various lengths.
Give these tools a try, and let me know if you think they’re useful. Did you turn up any unexpected instances of repeated words or phrases?
As writers and readers, we love to experience a sense of fear. But it’s a different story living in a culture of fear.
We recently moved into a new town, and I immediately noticed how security-conscious the people seem. The email welcoming us to the neighborhood included an attachment with an update on local crimes. There seemed to be a lot of property crime going on. In one incident, a young woman and her father had interrupted a burglary. The intruders tied them up and held them both at gunpoint for hours.
After reading that report, I started getting more interested in the notion of home security. First I made sure we’d covered all the the standard bases of crime prevention–keeping property lights on, having a dog, never leaving doors or windows unlocked. Our alarm system was obsolete, so I met with a series of security consultants from various alarm companies.
That’s when I began to go overboard. We needed motion detectors, I decided, plus interior and exterior video surveillance. (If someone burgles our house, by golly I want to see the guy so I can identify him.)
So now our house is bristling with cutting edge, high-tech security gear. We have a video monitor that lets us see various angles of the property. At night, the displays are infrared. (So far the only intruder we’ve caught is our male cat on the prowl for a midnight treat.) We even have panic buttons on our key fobs.
Now I’m thinking I went too far with the whole security thing. I’ve become a regular listener to the police scanner frequency. Then there are all the alerts. Our system lets me know whenever someone approaches our front gate. It also alerts me whenever a bird, butterfly, or errant leaf passes by. I’m collecting an impressive video library of local wildlife.
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| MacGregor, fearsome watchdog. |
Does the new system make us feel more secure? For me, it’s had the opposite effect. Putting in all these security contraptions has actually made feel more vulnerable. It’s illogical, but I felt safer in my previous state of uninformed bliss.
But for now, woe unto any Luna moth who strays across our portal after dark. He better smile for that camera.
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| “Do you feel lucky, Moth?” |
Do you live in a culture of fear? Or do you still have that lovely sense of being immune from danger as you go about your daily life? I wish I had that back.
