Fear of What?

While others fear failure, and I’m no exception, I’ve always feared success more. In spite of that, God has seen fit to prosper me in unexpected ways. Each time I’ve gone into the next phase in my writing journey I’ve done this weird jungle dance, leaping and cavorting around the fire. When I get skittish enough and the flames get high enough I wind up and run at it, trying to sail over it. The knowledge that I’ll catch a spark and ride into the night air is usually diminished by the surety that my butt will burn because I chose the moment when it would be so. I fail to notice that the flame is stronger, more incendiary, more flamboyant than usual. Sometimes a new fuel is burning and I leap anyway. After the scorching I settle down near the fire and examine it again. I give my cooking the meticulous care it deserves. Some Shamans put up with my antics, open to the process of each individual, others, perhaps seeing themselves in my wild flight, sneer and send rhetoric out to other Shamans on the feather-headed move of their warrior-flame-child. I work hard; I learn fast, I try again. I sit on the lee side of the fire and cook, slowly roasting and turning, singeing, then cooling. The fire is hot. I’m in danger of chucking my fork into the conflagration and walking away. But I don’t. I just needed to know how hot the fire was, it gives me limits, parameters. Maybe it’s why firewalkers tread on hot coals. Not because they think they can or cannot. Maybe it’s just a validation that you’re alive and can still just do it. No rules, no nothing, just that moment in space when you’re high above the fire, gazing at the blaze, committed to some serious consequences either way. But the freefall seems to be a validation of free will. I join hands with the Great Shaman and he jumps with me, ever faithful, understanding my ways, measuring my success not by the height of each fire I’ve jumped but by the length of time I can take the heat. I’m working on larger dishes now and the fires are larger. I’m learning to cook with indirect heat. The rules have changed, but the principles are the same. I’ve been scorched recently so I’m ready to settle down now and really cook. It’s a relief this, almost a catharsis. I’m ready now for the next phase. How’s your writing going! Happy January all! Karen

Your Writing Newsletter

Happy November and December writer friends, Since the fall issue of my e-newsletter came out at the beginning of November I decided to wait until the end of the month and combine the November blog with the December one. Furthermore, let’s discuss newsletters in general and what they mean for you, as a writer. First of all newsletters are press releases. While you can site your upcoming articles, books and speaking engagements, the core of the newsletter should meet a need that your reader has. Offering writing opportunities, helpful articles/tips and even freebies can ensure that your reader won’t hit the delete button when your newsletter lands in their mailbox, or inbox as the case may be. Second, invite reader response. A good way to connect to your reader is to ask a question and ask the reader to contact you. This helps you focus your efforts on what’s important to him or her. It’s essential that you remain teachable and what better way than to listen to those who walk a similar path? Reader response often benefits you by offering input. Many of my responses come to my e-mail box because the newsletter only goes out to a certain mailing list. When my website is up, the newsletter will be accessible there. Next, make your newsletter visually appealing. Use soft color, graphics and visual breaks. A jazzier color might work if you’re audience is flashier but remember that compiling it is easier than reading it. Neon blue can get on a reader’s nerves or eyes. The lack of visual clutter also helps so that your newsletter is easy to read. It eliminates the feeling of confusion or being overwhelmed by content. Finally, develop a format that you follow with each issue. Your reader will look for his or her favorite section and will scan down to read that first when pressed for time. Not all parts of your newsletter will speak to all readers, but you can better meet reader needs by supplying diverse topic areas and addressing some detail within that topic each time you publish a new issue. Spend time on the Internet looking at styles of newsletter and come up with one you think will match the tone of your writing and meet your reader needs. Have fun! Karen Blog Comments field I’ve had some questions on the comments field for this blog. If you want to comment, click on the word “comment” below the entry you have comments for. It will send you to a blog signup page, however, below the sign-in section there’s a button that says you can “post anonymously”. Then you can leave a comment on my site without having a blog account. Please sign your name in the body of the comments section so if others have responses to what you wrote they can address them to you. Let me know if you’re still having trouble.

Thoughts on Wisdom

Lately I’ve been reading a book called, “Abounding Grace: An Anthology of Wisdom” edited by M. Scott Peck, author of “The Road Less Traveled.” The book is a compilation of pithy prose that is a partial record of the wisdom of the ages … according to one man, anyway. We tend to assign wisdom to those statements that summarize our human condition, our reality or our positionality. I like the words of Anne Morrow Lingberg: “I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable.” Or Adlai Stevenson, “Knowledge alone is not enough. It must be leavened with magnanimity before it becomes wisdom.” To me, wisdom is directly tied to grace. It’s also the knowledge that you are not indispensable. When you view the world from the dispensable angle everything shifts into perfect priority without your help. Love is paramount in wisdom as is curiosity about the world around us. Love brings us fully alive and curiosity is the seeking of wisdom in addition to knowledge. Wisdom is knowing right from wrong, or at least having the wherewithal to ask someone who does. I believe that knowledge is in the mind and wisdom is in the heart. I know people who are well-educated fools. I know children with disabilities who are wise way beyond their years. Maybe they feel dispensable at an early age. I hope not, but if the result of that feeling is wisdom it may be worth it. I believe that acceptance, not just tolerance which implies ignoring someone (have you ever noticed that ignoring and ignorance are the same word?) is crucial, forgiveness essential, mercy a capstone and grace the pervading flavor … are all columns in the house of wisdom. The world has had a great many prophets who have said many great and wise words, but sooner or later you have to choose your own path toward wisdom and ask your own questions. Only then will you truly understand man’s love of God. Have a great October and we’ll see you next month. Karen *****“The Mosaic of Creative Nonfiction”****** For a presentation by Karen J. Olson No pre-registration necessary Please join us on Tuesday, October 10 7:00 pm Western Wisconsin Christian Writers' Guild Bethesda Lutheran Brethren Church (corner of State and Hamilton) Eau Claire WI Blog Comments field I’ve had some questions on the comments field for this blog. If you want to comment, click on the word “comment” below the entry you have comments for. It will send you to a blog signup page, however, below the sign-in section there’s a button that says you can “post anonymously”. Then you can leave a comment on my site without having a blog account. Please sign your name in the body of the comments section so if others have responses to what you wrote they can address them to you. Let me know if you’re still having trouble.

Scents and Seasons

Happy September Writers! How are you today? It’s hard to believe the summer is over and school has started. For those of you who desperately cling to the legalistic definition I realize that summer officially ends September 21, but for me, fall starts September 1 and summer ends with the first day of school. Never mind they might not be the same day. I’ve always broken the seasons into three months each. Summer is June, July and August; fall is September, October and November; winter is December, January and February; spring is March, April and May. It helps me focus on the nature of things I think. For example, each month within the seasons has a distinct picture in my mind. Let’s talk about fall as an illustration. September is filled with dark dawns, cricket-song and a hastened pace. October is all apples, colored leaves, pumpkins and crisp nights. November carries early evenings, lamplight, bare trees and wood smoke. See what I mean? Spend some time this year picking out the characteristics that are unique to each month, or certain holidays. Embrace the sensory rich seasons and journal about them. It will help you create scenes when you’re writing. If something takes place in early September in Wisconsin and you have leaves changing color (other than the odd tree that jumps the gun or the early sumac) your prose will be less authentic. As people, we’re consumed with weather and seasons. As writers we want to make sure that we study and do some observational research in addition to all our book-learnin’. Take some walks and soak in the seasons, See you next time! Karen Blog Comments field - I’ve had some questions on the comments field for this blog. If you want to comment, click on the word “comment” below the entry you have comments for. It will send you to a blog signup page, however, below the sign-in section there’s a button that says you can “post anonymously”. Then you can leave a comment on my site without having a blog account. Please sign your name in the body of the comments section so if others have responses to what you wrote they can address them to you. Let me know if you’re still having trouble.

Reality Mosaic

Hello writers, Buckle your seatbelts. I've got a couple of rants here, after the polite small talk. Boy, did I kick butt last week! I changed my office hours back to the fall schedule and had all Wednesday and Thursday to write. I smoked through tons of work! My children’s book is done and heading out to readers. Kind of scary, but cool. An author in the cities asked if she could see it so I’ll have a professional as a reader too. What a gift. My book for caregivers only has about 10,000 words to go. I’m at 55,000. With 5,000 for front and back matter that means I can write anywhere up to 10,000 and be good to go. Time to cut the cord on that one too. Fly … be free. I’m scouting fellowships and need to get in gear there. One of the fellowships I’m looking at is in creative nonfiction. I know my level of craft in that genre is at beginner level but supposedly that doesn’t matter to this fellowship. Some asked me recently (regarding a creative nonfiction piece I wrote) how much of it was true. Why does that question always bug me? Maybe I’ll use the name literary nonfiction or start listing my research on the bottom of the page: interviews, diaries, newspapers, archives and other documentation. Sheesh. Makes me crazy. I guess when you use “I” as a character others will always ask you that question. For me, it’s black and white – Hello? – It’s nonfiction! End of story. Good bye. (I’ve always liked that line in the Shrek movie.) Non means no, ergo nonfiction means no fiction. . It really doesn’t make me too crazy. It’s a testament to my storytelling ability, or use of literary technique, I guess. What I really need is a few kind, pat answers to those who ask that question. For example, when someone asks me how much of my nonfiction is true I should just answer, “all of it, it’s nonfiction.” (Said without the sarcastic duh! I want to add on the end of the answer.) I think that people confuse truth with fact. Although subjective, my truth can be backed up by interview, by diary, by newspapers BUT it is not prepositional fact. I don’t really want to get into the metaphysics of “is truth real?” That philosophical crap does make me crazy, or at minimum, exasperated. I understand it, I just have no tolerance for it in the larger picture of life. One gentleman asked me what kept me from stealing other writers’ work. I didn’t have an answer. I should have said, “My ethics. My principles. Loss of credibility” or any number of clever and glib responses. Instead I stared at him blankly. The thought had never occurred to me. What would be the fun and challenge of that? Being a writer, for me, is the process, not being able to say I’m a writer. Maybe that’s the difference. I’ve known writers who have romantic notions on the business of writing. They like to say they are writers but have yet to open a single book on the craft. They muddle through, wondering why they’re having such a tough time and they expect others to lead them by the hand. Ticks me off all these namby pamby writer wannabees who feel they can pilfer or “share” intellectual property. But then … that’s another rant and I’ve got two rants going already. Back to creative nonfiction. When I read Gay Talese or Lee Gutkind I think, “Wow, will I ever get to that level of craft, or that level of subject within the genre?” Because I use myself as the main character, in a combination of memoir and personal essay, I look to writers with less grandiose prose. Garrison Keillor, Mike Perry – people who write truth and reality in my world. I don’t chase down celebrities (Talese), Chinese sports stars (Talese) or stand all day, every day in a transplant operating room (Gutkind) waiting for the story to come together. I can’t even relate to that level of subject matter (or total commitment of all resources.) I do relate to Keillor as he talks about his childhood, or Perry as he talks about the Beagle. I know people like that. I understand the careful handling of the people in their stories so that they are treated with dignity, humor and depth. Maybe it’s a Midwestern mentality. We like our authors grounded in Midwestern truths. I’ve had people ask me how I can remember so much about my childhood. Everything hit me so hard when I was young. I was a very sensitive child and normal everyday events impacted me with perhaps a greater eye to detail. Where do I get my ideas? I took a lot of risks and so a lot of weird stuff has happened to me. I’ll never be into gonzo journalism like Hunter S. Thompson, but there was a time in the ‘70s when I could have been. I’m just trying to come to terms with the great mysteries in life, I’m not trying to solve them. That would force me into the crazy-making philosophical realm. I can only keep working, through my writing, on the mosaic that makes up my reality. Catch you next month! Karen

10 Tips for Summer Writing

It seems that summer has arrived for good. With temperatures at 85 degrees and warmer it feels more like July and August than May and June. I’m not complaining, mind you. A friend and I were discussing it at dinner last night and we’re convinced one of two things will happen. Either July will be unnaturally cool, as though it flipped seasons or the cosmic dial will be set on incinerate and we’ll all grow pale and wan in our controlled environments (horrors if we should sweat and clean out a few pores!)

So, what’s everyone working on? Did anyone write about the 6-6-06? Not me, it gives me the creeps. Not that the actual date gives me the willies but that certain people embrace it as a black omen. Normally reasonable people start seeing weirdness in everyday situations. Having said that, however, I agree with another friend I talked with yesterday morning. I keep my kid a little closer and my senses alert. In reality some people do choose a darker path.

On to brighter things … I’m working on my books, the normal speaking engagements and freelance editing. My schedule is changing for the summer and I hope to really get some additional writing hours in. As long as we are on the topic of summer writing let’s talk about balancing family and work. How do we do it?

1. First, make a conscious decision about how much you want to work. My son sleeps until 8:00 some days so my best writing time is early in the morning. Instead of working certain days of the week I’ll be shifting my hours so that I’m working certain hours each day and there will be significant adjustments to our routine.
2. Next, decide on which summer activities dovetail with your schedule. For us, most of our plans fall into the afternoon or evening so mornings, again, became the natural choice for work hours. Plus this enables me to get to the gym each morning after I drop my son off at his morning caregiver.
3. Keep regular office hours. My office hours are 8:00 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. this summer. That means no frittering away half the morning with mundane household tasks or chats on the telephone. In fact, I let the machine pick up calls when I’m writing.
4. Set summer writing goals. The first week of the summer is spent goal setting for both the summer and for my annual goals. I’ll get them down on paper and keep them in a visible place.
5. Set summer reading goals. I’ll spend part of one of my work days reading good books, interesting articles and timely research. It’s part of being a writer.
6. Bible study and prayer. I include both prayer and spiritual growth in my work day. It’s as important, if not more so, than academic growth. This gives me time to review character choices I’ve made and seek counsel for upcoming projects.
7. Creative free writes. Some days I’ll just sit and write, like I used to before I was paid to write. Other days I’ll focus on revisions and edits but summer is sensory rich and I want to take advantage of that by laying down raw material.
8. Balancing businesses. Not only am I a writer and columnist, I’m a speaker and a freelance editing and critique service. This means that I need to balance the schedule accordingly.
9. Mentoring. Currently I mentor three writers with a fourth possibility. It requires substantial time but I believe that we reap what we sow. It our job, as men and women of faith, to encourage others who are not as far along as we are. “You’re training your competition!” one woman said to me. You know what? My faith allows me to help other and still receive God’s best for me. Having said that, I set some strong boundaries so that I get my own work done too but I can sow seeds of encouragement with a generous hand.
10. Play. I will free write outside on the patio with a glass of iced tea sitting next to me. I will proofread in my office chair with windows open and fresh flowers on my desk. I will make time for family and friends, hang out at the pool and go to drive in movies. It’s summer and we get to have fun!

Take care all! I’ll see you next month.
Karen

Blog Comments field
I’ve had some questions on the comments field for this blog. If you want to comment, click on the word “comment” below the entry you have comments for. It will send you to a blog signup page, however, below the sign-in section there’s a button that says you can “post anonymously”. Then you can leave a comment on my site without having a blog account. Please sign your name in the body of the comments section so if others have responses to what you wrote they can address them to you. Let me know if you’re still having trouble.

A Writer’s Memory

If I ever had any doubt about the divergence between a writer’s brain and the non-writer’s brain it is brought clear by a conversation my brother had with my mother. I wrote a Christmas humor piece about our Christmas trees when we were growing up. The details came back to me in Technicolor as I closed my eyes and typed: the smell of the tree lot, my father working on trimming the tree—everything. “Where does she get this stuff? I don’t remember any of it.” My younger brother asked my mother. She glanced at him in surprise. “Well, I guess you were pretty young, maybe you don’t remember. She interviewed me for some of the details,” my mother responded. A woman I know loves to tell that story as though my brother’s lack of recollection could somehow discredit me. I smile serenely. I am a truth-teller. I don’t have to worry about being “found out.” I believe that I file memories differently than other people. I think all writers do, it’s the reason we’re able to write. We’re wired differently than non-writers. We see life through a unique perspective and it’s stored in a way that is accessible to us decades later, in detail. It’s an amazing gift. One that I no longer take for granted. When I was young I was often accused of being overly sensitive. Did events make a bigger impression on me? Did I notice more than the average person? Am I more intuitive? Who knows? Whatever it is, it works. I still remember graffiti written on the Campanile wall at SDSU from 1969 when I was in third grade. One that stands out is “Spirew Agnew picks his nose.” I don’t know how I remember it, but I do. I also remember that the cement enclosed stairs in the campus tower changed to cement stairs with steel railings the closer you got to the top. I remember the dairy lab and the mint bon bon ice cream cones. I remember the commencement area where my father got his doctorate degree. The red brick contrasting with the dark robes adorned with blue doctoral stripes on the upper arms. I remember the way the sidewalks ran, the sign on the launderette that stood across from campus in the small “college-town” area. I remember that my best friend’s dad ran a dry cleaning business and belonged to the Knights of Columbus. I remember the smell of the dry cleaning and the soft swish of the bags as they spun on the rotating clothes rack. I remember his hot fudge ice cream topping and that he was the first man I’d ever seen cry. I remember the city pool and the season ticket patch sewn on my swimsuit. The swimsuit was a red, white and blue 2-piece with a white pleated skirt and blue stars sewn on. I remember that the tips of the stars curled inward toward the center of each star before the summer was half over. My little brother had a pair of red, white and blue trunks with a small silver anchor sewn on for decoration. He had my mother cut the anchor off when he had trouble doing the back float in swimming lessons. I remember the store across the street from the pool and the frozen Milky Way candy bars with flattened sticks that held messages and turned curvy once they were in the candy bar itself. I remember the smell of our infant neighbor, Shelly Boom Boom’s apartment, where her mother, Sherry, lived in a perpetual display of tossed clothing, old food and dirty diapers. I remember the poplar trees that lined the alley behind our house and how they sounded. I loved the sound the leaves made as they clacked lightly together. All these memories come from a place I lived only one year. I have memories all the way back until I was three years old. Some clear, some amorphous … some good and some not so good. The point is … I remember. So … we think differently, we writers. We remember differently, we file away facts and scents and scenes in a way most people don’t. We are able to integrate memories but keep separate details clear as well. What a blessing to have such tangible memories of our lives. What a gift to be able to pull up moments with all your senses instead of in a narrative form. The next time you feel overwhelmed by your experiences, realize that your writer’s mind is busily filing away memories for you to put on the page at a later time, and offer up a prayer of thanks for your unique writer’s mind. Blog Comments field I’ve had some questions on the comments field for this blog. If you want to comment, click on the word “comment” below the entry you have comments for. It will send you to a blog signup page, however, below the sign-in section there’s a button that says you can “post anonymously”. Then you can leave a comment on my site without having a blog account. Please sign your name in the body of the comments section so if others have responses to what you wrote they can address them to you. Let me know if you’re still having trouble.