Month: March 2017

    We’re celebrating St. Patrick’s Day on Miss Demeanors by sharing what we love about the Irish/Ireland.            My family is from Scituate, Massachusetts, the town considered to be the most Irish in America. I love St. Patrick’s Day and all things Irish including parades, fiddles, politics, dry wit, freckles and red hair, Irish writers, root vegetables, whiskey, Guinness, and most of all the storytelling.            One story goes like this. My grandmother, clearly a woman of a certain age, was pushing me when I was an infant in a carriage down Front Street in Scituate when she happens upon Mayor James Michael Curley, the Irish-American mayor/rogue of Boston, known for “Vote often and early, said James Michael Curley.” “Ah, you’ve had another one, Madeline,” he says with a straight face, bending over to kiss me and bless me with the gift of blarney forevermore  Alexia:         What don’t I love about Ireland? I set my novels there, after all.  I’m an avowed Hibernophile.Where, oh where to begin? I love Irish whiskey, with Midleton Barry Crockett, Bushmills 21, and Connemara Peated being at the top of the list (Full disclosure: I love whiskey/whiskey, from a variety of countries but the aforementioned are among my all-time favorites.), Irish pubs (and pub food), Irish music, Irish festivals, Irish dance, Irish wolfhounds (although I don’t have room for one), Irish cottages, Irish fishermen’s sweaters, Irish folklore, Irish accents, red hair (not strictly Irish but I love it), Irish names (even the unpronounceable-by-American-tongues Gaelic names), the Irish language (Gaelic sounds beautiful spoken. I understand none of it), Irish slang (I want to tell some feckin’ eejit to stop acting the maggot), Gaelic football (I am not a sports fan, so that’s saying a lot), Irish soda bread, Waterford crystal … You get the idea. I don’t know why I’m such a fan of all things Irish. I’m not Irish (Well, mostly not. Ancestry’s DNA test says I’m 14% Irish but I was a Hibernophile long before I took the test.), I didn’t grow up in or near an Irish neighborhood, my first trip to Ireland was as an adult. I can’t explain it but I do enjoy it. Paula:              I love Ireland, too. My family is mostly Alsatian, but my maternal grandmother Peg always insisted that she was Irish. No one believed her, but as it turns out she was right. Our Clancy and Couch ancestors came to the United States in the 1820s. Which explains my long fascination with the country: its literature, its history and mythology, its culture, and its people. Years ago, when a YA editor asked me to pick a country and set a story there, I chose Ireland  (Emerald’s Desire, long out of print), and happily  indulged my passion for Celtic lore and legend. I finally got to visit Ireland seven years ago, when my daughter met me in Dublin for St. Patrick’s Day. I loved everything about that city, but my favorite place was the Dublin Writers Museum: Swift and Sheridan, Shaw and Wilde, Yeats, Joyce and Beckett, the list goes on and on. If you’re ever there, don’t miss it! Cate: You know you’re Irish when you can’t make a story short. This joke about the Irish fit my father’s Irish American family and it applies to me. Perhaps that’s why I left journalism for novel writing.Here’s a little story that I’ll try to make short. When I was a kid, my grandparents did a fair amount of traveling. Every country that they visited, they would bring back a doll–except for Ireland. When they went to Ireland, they would bring back a box of peat and tell us that our people were from there and I was to plant something inside of it. Dolls ultimately became cracked, dead things. But the plants would blossom. So, in my head, Ireland is associated with life and growth.  Robin:          This one is easy – my mom. Her father (my grandfather) was the son of Irish immigrants. I haven’t been to Ireland yet but I have been to other parts of the U.K. (England and Scotland). Ireland is on my short list for future destinations. Susan:           I have to confess that I’ve spent a good part of my life explaining that I do NOT have an Irish heritage. When your last name is Breen and your husband comes from Boston and your daughter went to Boston College, it’s implied. But I’m only Irish via an over-enthusiastic clerk at Ellis Island. That said, I love Irish story-tellers, Irish whiskey, Irish dancing and my many Irish friends, who are hell-raisers one and all.  Tracee:         Is this a ploy to get me to read James Joyce? If not, then you’ve caught me out. Ireland, a subject on which I have no opinion. I’ve been to England but not Ireland (or Scotland or Wales for that matter) and while I have an image of a beautiful rolling green landscape in my mind, that’s it. I look forward to learning what I’ve missed and perhaps exploring some of your favorite bits about the Emerald Isle (that is what it’s called?). What do you love about the Irish/Ireland?     

 The agony associated with being a writer is well earned. It’s no small wonder most writers’ faces are permanently frozen in scowls, grimaces, and glares or that they are rumored to take to the drink.Do you know how many decisions writers face? It usually starts with the story. What is my story anyway? Does it come from within or from the world around me? Is it enough to spin a plot?            Then there’s the cast. Who will tell my story? Occasionally a character will pop into a writer’s head with so strong a voice, the story begins there.            Where will the story take place is a critical choice for a writer. Setting can become an actual character in a book. Where does the writer want to take her reader? Where will readers want to go with the writer?            Next comes, how will the story be told? Now we get into the nitty-gritty decisions, the ones writers like to debate when they’re avoiding writing their stories. Will the story be told intimately from the first person point of view, limiting the perspective to that of one person who essentially narrates his own story? Or will it unfold through the third person multiple point of view where a small cast shares what is happening with the readers providing  several outlooks but creating a distance?Perhaps the writer will decide to take a chance and try something criticized when it goes wrong, but acclaimed when it works. Maybe the writer will switch from first person to third person point of view in various chapters. She might even dare to break the cardinal rule that one should remain with a single character’s point of view for each scene or chapter and switch point of view from one character to another. Writers are admonished that such a choice can only lead to disaster. Tell that to the writer who decided to do it anyway and landed on the New Times Best Seller list at #1 many times.The decision about what tense to use is enough to make a writer more than tense. Most stories are told in the past tense, but there is a growing trend to use the present tense. Should the writer stick with the tried and true or venture into the present tense and see if it works? I thought I knew the answer to this one because I usually dislike reading books written in the present tense. Until I recently loved a book and only realized it was written in the present tense at the end.Oh, there are so many more choices along the way, but the ultimate choice is where does the writer leave the reader. Sobbing into a ball of tissues soggy with tears? Giddy with the knowledge the cast has set off for happily ever after? Or scratching his head, wondering?With so many decisions to be made, it’s easy to understand how writers often procrastinate. But where else could you find a job that allows you the freedom to make choices? I’m trying to pay less attention to the rules, to relish the choices, and to remember, “There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
Somerset Maugham.What painful choices have you made as a writer?                           

 How many times have I stumbled across an artist on a dock or in a garden perched before her easel, paint brush poised in hand, and felt a wave of envy? The artist is bathing in natural light and fresh air, transforming them into images on her canvas. Painting en plein air. It even sounds  romantic and exotic. I’ve tried painting and learned that indoors or in the wild, I have no talent.            But I can write, which some say is an art form, while others debate it’s a craft. There are those who say it’s both. I just know I’m driven to write and wondered what would happen if I took my act outdoors. Why not write en plein?My first attempts were during vacations. I remember sitting in a lemon grove in Sorrento, the sun warming my back and shoulders, smelling citrus, but no sense that other people were present while I wrote in my notebook. I breathed in the salt tinged fog on a dock in Maine early one morning writing with cold cramped fingers. I’ve always taken my journal with me to the beach, no matter which beach I was headed to.            When I began spending my winters in St. John in the Virgin Islands, I struggled with how to balance my writing time with beach time. I resisted the thought of sitting indoors at a desk while the sun and a palette of blue skies with enormous marshmallow clouds and emerald green seas beckoned me. My husband and I always seek a spot under a shady tree at the beach, knowing unfortunately what too much sun can do to your health. We began frequenting a spot at the end of a beach with a generous canopy of shade, which fortunately doesn’t attract most beach goers. The ocean is several feet away and most days our only companions are a rooster and an occasional band of donkeys. With a small lightweight laptop with a waterproof cover, a few pens, a notebook and some index cards, writing became more portable than painting at an easel. Welcome to my writing room.           Writers are often encouraged to be open to their senses. See, smell, taste, touch and listen to all that is around you. Becoming conscious of all that was around me, I noticed the rhythm of the lapping waves playing like music, the Tradewinds brushing over my arms and legs, and the smell of the ocean ever present. I became lost in a place somewhere between where my story was taking place and the natural environment in which my body seemed suspended. And I wrote. Lots.            Of course, I didn’t invent writing en plein. Many writers before me have borrowed the practice often attributed to painters from the Impressionist era. While writing en plein is frequently used to inspire the writer’s description of a particular place, I see no reason to limit it. My grandmother used to urge us to “get out in the fresh air.” She was right about it being good for human beings to get out of the house. My agent and writer teacher Paula Munier, who is almost as wise as my grandmother, agrees. “The next time you want to fire up your writing brain, go outside and get some Vitamin D. You know it’s good for you – and your ideas.”             Where would you like to write en plein?  Save

I’ve been in Three Pines, where Louise Penny sets her Chief Inspector Gamache mystery series, for about six weeks now. I’ve suffered through several long winters, endured a few hot summers, and relished as many perfect springs and autumns in that short time. On January 20th (the date is no coincidence), I fled to this village in Canada just above the Vermont border, a place safe and filled with hygge. The Oxford Dictionary defines hygge as “a quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being.”            Oddly, it hasn’t matter that in each of the twelve books I’ve read during my sojourn, a murder has occurred because Louise Penny has created Armand Gamache, whom I grew to trust and revere. I knew each time I opened a new book that  Chief Inspector Gamache would ultimately expose the murderer, along with a few lessons about the human condition. The murders were much less disturbing than never-ending alerts on my telephone or the incessant chatter on television about what the daily disaster was back on the home front.            I fell into Three Pines like it was the puffy feather duvet my grandmother had washed so many times you couldn’t tell what the original colors were. I tried to pace myself, remembering there are only twelve books so far. I gobbled chapters faster than the characters devoured croissants, omelets, and chocolate chip cookies. I imagined drinking whisky, beer, and countless bowls of café au lait with my new friends, even though I have never had anything but dark roast black coffee my entire life.            I was drawn to the roaring fireplaces in the bistro with mismatched chairs and sofas waiting for me to plop down into with a good book. I knew I would find no shortage of reading material in Myrna’s bookstore and that Olivier would bring me a glass of red wine with a bowl of nuts without being asked.I hoped I would be invited to another of Clara’s potluck dinners where I might be treated to beef bourguignon, warm apple pie, and a glimpse of Ruth, the crusty foul-mouthed poet who always brings her pet duck to village affairs. Poetry is part of the normal conversation in Three Pines among many of my new friends, while some prefer cussing, or a combination of both.            I’d finish one book in the Gamache series, vowing to take at least a few days off before starting another. But I didn’t want to leave Three Pines knowing what awaited me when I hit  the “on” button on the remote control. So I hit the “purchase the next book in this series” button instead.            I worried a little about what would happen when I ran out of books and could not longer descend from the great lookout above the valley into Three Pines, which is uncharted on maps. Was there a twelve-step program for my addiction? To prepare for my withdrawal, I read a little about Louise Penny’s background and learned she created the series and the setting after 9-11 because she wanted to provide a place where readers felt safe and comforted, offering them a cast of characters who would feel like friends.            And that may have been the biggest gift from my retreat to Three Pines. What I learned is how powerful good writing can be. It doesn’t have to be dark, disturbing, provocative, or revolutionary, although many of the Gamache books include these elements. Good writing need only reach the heart and soul of the reader. What writers have reached your heart and soul? Save

I was a panster by default. I had three other jobs (lawyer, mediator, and adjunct law professor) when I realized what my real calling was. I was meant to tell stories. Actually, that’s what lawyers do. They tell their clients’ stories persuasively to judges, hoping to distinguish theirs from the masses of others also seeking a dose of daily justice.            I didn’t have time to sit at a desk or anywhere else poised at a laptop or with pen in hand developing an outline for the story floating around my brain cells. Oh, I’d have a notebook handy to capture a line I was sure would be unforgettable or to capture the voices of  my characters but that was about it. Because I was busy writing pleadings and briefs, my creative writing time, which I had relegated to hobby status, was when I was on vacation or  when I could “steal” a chunk of time. (More on this another time, but worth mentioning that the denial one is a writer is a huge impediment to being one.)            I wrote many books as a pantser, many of which sit in  boxes unpublished. I’m not saying they weren’t worthy endeavors but I’ve learned since have two books published that there is a give and take element to writing. As a reader, I receive the gift of the writer. When I write, I share with the reader what I have to offer. I’m not sure if anyone has studied whether pantser or plotters get published more, but my point is there are valid reasons beyond vanity to want to be published.            I enjoy the thrill of being a pantser and not knowing what I will write until my fingertips have danced over a keyboard. It’s like taking a road trip without an itinerary or a map. But we all have heard about road trips gone wrong when dazed and confused travelers stumble into a local convenience store gasping, “Where are the maps.” Or at least turn on the GPS.            Recently I found myself repeatedly lost while trying to write a book different than the ones I have written before. A lifetime insomniac, I had always relied on my middle of the night sleeplessness to brainstorm my story and tire me enough to fall back to sleep. Not this time. I never went back to sleep. The pieces weren’t fitting. My protagonist wasn’t cooperating. She refused to reveal her voice to me through my disorganized and fragmented style. I thought I heard her say one early morning around 4:00 a.m., “When you’re ready for me, I’ll be ready for you.”            Several drafts later, I admitted to my agent I might have to outline. She laughed and reminded me that in one the writing books she has written, she says “even if you are a pantser, there may come a time in your career when you need to think like a plotter, like it or not.” The time had not just come for me; it was long overdue.            I lured myself into the outlining process with fluorescent-colored index cards and post-its. I remembered outlining textbooks methodically in my days at a parochial high school and later in law school. I wondered if those experiences had fed my resistance and were a form of rebellion. Ultimately, I fell into the comfort, routine, and direction outlining was offering me. My protagonist started whispering to me. Themes rose from the mounting pile of index cards. My story unfolded. I knew the beginning,  middle, and end. Even better, I understood why.            Will I always be a plotter now? I doubt it. I love the adventure that comes with being a pantser. I may create my own hybrid, allowing myself the fun of pantsing the beginning of a book when it’s more conceptual than concrete, then permitting the story to have a proper itinerary and map.             Writers: Are you a plotter or a pantser and why?            Reade  “Writing with Quiet Hands: how to shape your writing to resonate with readers,” Paula Munier, Writer’s Digest Books. Save

 Today is the eighth day of Lent. For Christians, the forty days leading to Easter are a time to prepare for the holiest day of the Church year, the celebration of Christ’s resurrection. Many Christians observe Lent by giving up something such as chocolate, smoking, or social media. Others take on a spiritual discipline such as centering prayer. I wondered if there was a spiritual discipline centered around reading. There is.  Lectio divina, divine reading, is a form of prayer that dates to the sixth century. The technique is simple. Read, reflect, respond, rest. First, select a reading. Go someplace quiet and read the passage aloud. Notice if a particular word or phrase stands out or touches you. Reflect on the special feeling or insight. Reread the passage and converse with God in response to what you read. Rest. Lectio divina is specifically a form of Christian contemplative prayer. However, the technique could be applied to secular reading. How often have you come across a passage—a sentence or a paragraph—in a book or short story that struck you as powerful, that stayed with you long after you finished reading? The next time this happens, pause. Read the passage aloud and reflect on it. Notice how it makes you feel, reflect on your reaction. Read the passage aloud again and discuss your reaction with yourself. Write down your response. Or go ahead and talk it out. No one’s judging. What techniques have you used to deepen your understanding of, or connection to, what you read?