Robin Layne's Blog: From the Red, Read Robin - Posts Tagged "reading"

I'm back at last! I got up early enough to be drunk on tiredness, hoping my dream state is still lingering. I heard some writers prefer to write at such times. Wow, it's already 9:02 a.m.! I got up about 7, I swear! But I have done a number of things this morning already, including cook and eat breakfast and some matters of business at the computer, including emailing my writing group to shamelessly solicit ideas for where I'm stuck in my story. But it is a glorious thing to reach the point in going over the old draft where I honestly have holes in the plot that need filling in. I know the gist here--just need the details. And why cannot writing be a community experience, at least at times? I have learned the joys of writing in community in more than one setting. Hemingway's quote bears repeating. Let's see if I can get it right: "There's nothing to being a writer. All you do is sit at a typewriter and bleed." If I must bleed at the keyboard, letting out all the passion and pain within me, let me also soar the heights of success when I really gain from writing and others love it and gain, too. And let me spend some time with other writers giving and receiving moral support as we inspire one another to write.

October is a special time for writers and booklovers around Portland, Oregon. Why is "booklovers" not a single word to spell check? It ought to be, don't you think? And why did I twice start to spell "Potland"? It must be the skunk-like reek that keeps coming in from the neighbor's apartment. Regardless, it's not a hemp festival that draws me this week. It is Wordstock, an annual book lover's fair. There, I made two words of it. Wordstock is unbelievably inexpensive to attend--$7 a day, or $10 for both Saturday and Sunday, to enjoy all the exhibits, panels, and author presentations at the Oregon Convention Center this weekend (the 13th and 14th). If you sign up for a writer's workshop, which costs $35, you get in free for that day, and if you sign up for more than one workshop, the workshops are discounted. I am going to attend the workshop, "Starting a Series: What you need to do before you sit down to write." Since I sat down to write mine approximately 12 years ago, I figure it's about time I learn some tips. I've mostly been working, off and on, on the first book, but I have worked some on the books to follow. Someone has even suggested I break down my first book into more books as a solution to the problem that it's currently too long. I am considering the possibility, but at present, I don't see it working satisfactorily. I would need to break it up into the right climactic elements, and I'd also have to come up with an extra book title or two. But we shall see what happens. For now, I just want to finish the draft I have. Anyway, the series writing workshop is taught by April Henry, a New York Times bestselling novelist who is starting her 3rd series (I put it that way for brevity and to avoid trying to learn what is the plural of series). At least some of her books are YA, and I'm glad because that's what genre of books I'm writing as well.

The Wordstock-related events kicked off with the Text Ball by the Independent Publishing Resource Center last Saturday. I went for my first year in a zany costume and had a lot of fun. Costumes containing text were encouraged. I didn't win a prize; they seemed to like simpler and more elegant costumes with more unified ideas. I wore my entire button collection, a wire sculpture on my hat, and wrote body puns on my hands, arms, and face (see the pictures I will have loaded this morning). As you will see when you look at my hand pictures, I illustrated the Hemingway saying by making drops of red down my fingers.

I have spent hours going through the Wordstock guide and reading about some of the authors on the Internet, deciding which events to attend Saturday and Sunday, because so many good ones overlap in time. I have the booklet all marked up now, my course mapped out.
I am looking forward to the Open Write, in which contestants write to a prompt for 9 minutes and the work is published on the Internet. I am used to writing to prompts from a number of writing groups (if you haven't tried it, I recommend it, especially when you need to do something fresh; you can get writing prompts online); it's been a while since I've had so few minutes to write to one.

I have been quite the night owl lately, but because the book fair is a daytime event, I have been trying, until this morning unsuccessfully, to change my sleep patterns. The fact that the Text Ball ended at 11 p.m. didn't help. The panels and author events at the book fair don't start until 11 a.m., but I want to have some time for the Open Write and the exhibits. There is always a free book exchange table, and every book- and publishing-related kind of table you can imagine.

I will write about my adventures afterward, but it may take me a few days, since I also have homework in my copyediting class and other matters to attend to.

If I bleed my red blood to be read (and that is not by far the only reason; some of it is for my own catharsis), I have a milestone to celebrate. I have my first fan! Thank you, Dustin, for all your encouragement. Even if I only have one reader, I can legitimately include "Read" in the name of this blog.

Now I shall drink more black tea, put on sweater, and load the Text Ball pictures. I took pictures of some great costumes that I won't post because I didn't get those people's permission. But I will ask my writer's group friends if it's okay that I post some of their pictures as a thank-you for their support of my writing. If you are reading this, I encourage you to comment or message me and tell me what you think--or just say hi so I know you're out there. I want to read YOU as well. If only there was time for us all to read everything we want to share!

Been awake since about 1 a.m. and can't sleep. What irregular sleeping patterns! But it's all the better for you, if you want to read about my experiences at Wordstock, because I've have a lot of things to juggle, and only in the insane hours of the middle of the night do I feel justified to do something I don't absolutely have to do. I figure I'm too tired to pursue my obligations during such an hour. And I'll test out that semi-dream state I heard about, although I don't remember any of my dreams of the evening.

I was going to start with some highlights, but ended up covering a good amount of detail in the order that I enjoyed it.

The event began an hour later than I expected, and I was there early even for my expected time. It wasn't clear that doors open at 10, not 9, so it was hurry up and wait, then wait and hurry up. Fortunately, two books vendors had their ware on display out front, YA and poetry, respectively, and I was soon so engrossed in looking over those that I missed the 10 o'clock starting time. (My watch band broke that morning, so I had my watch in the pocket of my tight pants and I didn't look at it that often.) I rushed in to do the Open Write, and after waiting in a line with nothing much to do (books, books, everywhere, but none of them to read!. My nine minutes of fame was a disappointment. My fingers had a hard time finding the proper keys on the laptop, and I lost much precious time going back and fixing mistakes in a slow way I'm not used to. My prompt didn't inspire me much, and what I wrote was banal and incomplete. I will try again this morning with a different prompt and a different judge and I'll ask ahead of time what to do about typos. (My home keyboard is a large ergonomic one designed for carpal tunnel sufferers.)

I barely made it to my first panel, "Putting Words in the Mouth of God." Three authors with radical approaches to religious subjects led a fascinating discussion of saints of old, and imagined ones of today--their courage, their determination, and even their humor. I think it was Colin Dickey (but it might have been James Bernard Frost) said that there is no laughter in the New Testament--an idea I find absurd, considering the laughter I and many others experience under the power of God today and the absurdities of some of Christ's sayings. Who could have kept a straight face when the carpenter described a current religious leader swallowing a camel, or a judge with a beam of lumber sticking out of his eye? Dickey, who wrote Afterlives of the Saints said that Lawrence was the patron saint of comedians; Lawrence joked about being done and ready to eat while he was being burned to death. Dickey thought that Lawrence seemed to come from another religion. Certainly, he doesn't belong with the Jesuit who told his class the story and then upbraided them for laughing at it.

This reminds me of a dating site I am familiar with. You can use multiple choice answers to fill in some basic information, and if you pick a religion, you can say you are "very serious about it," "somewhat serious about it," "not very serious about it" or "laughing about it." To be serious might be to be devoted to your God or faith with all your heart that you are able, or it could mean you are a stuffed shirt. "Laughing about it" could mean you don't like the label you've been given and you make fun of it, or it could mean you just plain don't care. Or it might mean that your religion really makes you happy. How often these days is laughter really about happiness, and how often is it an expression of cynicism, ridicule, or a shallow escape from deep sadness or anxiety? I think even in those cases, it can sometimes be healthy. The problem comes in when "taking things seriously" means we can't laugh at ourselves, our circumstances, even our sufferings and deaths. As I like to put it, Don't take yourself seriously; you're just a character God invented.

Someone in the audience pointed out that today people with the intensities of the once-admired saints are labeled with mental disorders and subdued with drugs. Where are the zealous today? Tanya Hurley said that much of her novel, The Blessed, about three reincarnated teenaged girl saints, takes place in mental the ward.

Panelist James Bernard Frost wrote a very Portland- (Oregon)culture story called A Very Minor Prophet: A Novel, concerning people who have lost their religion and still need something. And based on some of the things I've heard and read about religion, losing it can be for some the best way to start on a path of real life. As Frost put it, religion is stiff and reverent, and new life is needed. The dwarf preacher in his story gets carried away, swears, and is a laughingstock but a breath of fresh air. But the author says it is a Christian message and that some ministers have expressed appreciation for this unorthodox book.

All three of the panelists grew up in Catholic homes and were influenced by stories of the saints. Dickey appreciates their spunk, although he is an atheist today. Within Christianity, it is chiefly Catholics (and then only those who actually LIKE Catholicism rather than those who have found themselves scarred and left the Church) who don't treat "religion" as something of a dirty word. It used to be a good thing to be thought of as religious, but today, both the born-again crowd and New Agers prefer to call themselves "spiritual" and the people outside their belief system "religious."

After this panel, I was hard-pressed to decide whether to attend a reading by two apocalyptic writers or listen to parts of A Face to Meet the Faces: An Anthology of Contemporary Persona Poetry. Poetry feeds the soul and I don't read or listen to enough of it, so I chose the latter. Persona poetry turned out to be just what I guessed it was: poetry written from the point of view of characters other than the poet--the poetic version of first person fiction. I got to meet the goddess Calypso, who finds Odysseus washed ashore like a drowned kitten and wonders if she can keep him; a Russian fairytale version of Snow White; a total jerk of a man; the Hulk; and more. The poets said that you need empathy to wear the mask of another person and that not everyone is capable of doing that regarding people very different from themselves. These poems were great, and I want to try writing more of this type of poem myself.

The next event I attended was "The 'Adult' in 'Young Adult,' about handling "adult" subject matter in teen novels. I put "adult" in quotes here because, as both audience members and authors acknowledged, everyone is younger in some ways and older in others. I didn't take down who said what here, but it was said that who you write about determines a books niche rather than who you write for.

I learned some interesting facts about libraries: 1. Faced with budgets that limit the number of books they can order, they don't so much out-and-out ban books as avoid ordering ones that are likely to create a hubbub. 2. At least some libraries buy the newest titles, keep them for a little while, and then send them back and buy the fresh new titles.

Many questions strayed from the topic. People wanted to know more about techniques of writing YA. Most YA is written in first person. Third person can be done, but authors using it tend to tell rather than show. It is important to keep an intimate point of view, whichever approach you use.

Next, from authors Lisa Burstein and Katie Kacvinsky, I learned some surprising things about what publishers and reviewers consider acceptable today in young adult books: sex is, drugs and alcohol are not. However, Steve Brezenoff includes drugs and alcohol, as well as cussing in his YA novel, Brooklyn, Burning. A writer must be true to the characters. The writers also pointed out that teens always feel like they have a spotlight on them. Yes, I remember that self-consciousness well!

I'm getting increasingly tired and it's getting fairly close to the time I should get ready, so I'll gloss over most of the next talk I went to, featuring Steve Brezenoff and Inara Scott. I was very glad I went to this, though, because it was a great relief to hear from successful published writers who don't follow all those rules they tell you you have to do: Brezenoff doesn't write every day. Inara says you don't have to. She writes in spurts like me! At last, I have been validated! She said, "If the passion's not there it's okay to take a break." As a pin I inherited from my mother says: Screw guilt.

There is, it was said, a huge crossover between young adults (up to age 21) and adults--about half and half. Understandably, then, there is more sex and violence in YA today than there used to be. Parents concerned about what their children read can ask booksellers and librarians about books appropriate to their ages, and when the youths liked a book they can ask for similar titles.

It was pure enjoyment listening to Ray Rhamey read from The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles. Told from the undead tomcat's point of view, it is funny and takes into account a lot of practical matters that vampires might have to deal with. I absolutely had to buy it. I confess my mind wandered as Rhamey read from two of his other books and I didn't get interested in them, but afterward I ran to the bookseller's table, bought the last copy of Vampire Kitty available, and ran to get the author to sign it for me.

I heard a new term from two different writers, the second one explaining what it means. A pacer is a writer who doesn't plot. Rhamey writes to see what happens. He wrote the kitty story online at first, something I did for a while with one of my vampire characters. That character, by keeping his own journal, seemed to invent himself; he developed in a matter of months while others have taken years.

The final panel was about sidekicks, or secondary characters. A sidekick isn't necessarily the protagonist's best friend. The sidekick is almost always of the same sex, but there are exceptions. There can also be more than one of them. Sidekicks can be a contradiction of the main character, to keep things in balance. A panelist gave the example of Don Quixote's Sancho Panzo. The character may be an externalization of the protagonist so he isn't talking to himself; the sidekick can be either antagonistic or agreeing.

For my novel-in-progress, Blood of the Willing, I like to throw my protagonist Mary together with her cantankerous and humorous friend Darrell for contrast in personality and in views toward how to handle the problem the book poses. Darrell, the traditionalist, thinks vampires are purely evil undead monsters that should all be killed. Mary finds herself taking a different view and approach. Either way they choose, both approaches have serious prices to pay.

I think I have finally said all I want to say about yesterday's half of the book fair. Tomorrow is here, that is to say it is 5:33 a.m., and I have to "get up" in less than half an hour. I pray I will have an energetic day in spite of my lack of sleep. I look forward to my workshop on starting a series.

It would make a lot of sense if Goodreads added the following categories to the My Books status:

Started to read but had to return to the library

Started but may never finish

Started but will definitely never finish

Using as a reference

(any more you'd like to add?)

What do you think? I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only person who doesn't always finish a book she picks up, for whatever reason. And just because I've put a book down doesn't prove I want to erase it from my list.

This Christmas season, I am bell-ringing for the Salvation Army six hours a day, six days a week. I am not, as some who pass by assume, a volunteer. I earn minimum wage. I need the money to pay bills. But I also love the job. I did it every year since my daughter was small, until I went back to college and was too busy with my studies. What could be so great about standing—or sitting, when my medical problems flare up—for hours on end ringing a bell? First off, it’s for a good cause. The kettle money is the only source that the Salvation Army has to help the needy within this county at Christmas time and all year round. I also love greeting people, spreading cheer and blessings and keeping an attitude of prayer throughout the day. If I had a present for every time that someone wished me a Merry Christmas out there in front of the Safeway—or the times I wished others the same—I don’t know where I would fit all the gifts. I represent Christmas and a Christian ministry and church that is well-liked by all types of people. Some people tell me that it is the only social service that gets through to military workers and disaster victims. I love watching children enjoy giving, and I laugh that they call me Santa although I’m a woman and I don’t exactly dress the part. They ought to know better, I think, because while I ring, I sing. My favorite part of this job is the special contribution of my voice.

Never mind the story that a robin heralds the spring. This Robin gets her greatest opportunity to sing out in the winter: carols about the birth of my beloved Lord, songs of joy about fun times, hymns of thanks and worship, and titles that aren’t connected with Christmas but speak of winter cold and snow. I even wrote two of my own verses to “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas”:

Jolly old Saint Nicholas,
lend your ear this way;
I hope you tell everyone
what I’m going to say.
Christmas Eve is coming soon;
Now, you dear old man,
whisper what it really means,
tell me if you can.
Daddy wants a brand new car,
Mommy wants a house,
sister wants a new PC,
kitty wants a mouse;
But these kinds of presents can’t
give our spirits rest;
Only God, who sent His Son,
gives the very best.

You can listen to me sing this on YouTube: St. Nicholas song

People like my voice. They don’t often stop long enough to hear a whole song, or even a whole verse, but it is enough to cheer them, invite compliments, sympathy when it’s cold, and cups of Starbucks hot cocoa, not to mention an increasing number of donations as the season progresses. I’m not allowed to put money in the bucket myself this year, which leads to some people’s carts rolling down the sloping sidewalk into the parking lot, especially if I have to sit in my chair and can’t reach to hold the cart for them.

The plan this year was for every paid ringer to work Monday through Friday, replaced by volunteers on Saturday, but at my location no one volunteered during the hours I work (1 to 7 pm.). I’m happy to make the extra money, but boy does it keep me busy! When I’m not at work or commuting to and from, it amazes me how much time just preparing Christmas letters and cards takes. Not to mention all the time (and money) it took to get enough warm clothes to get me through freezing days. I wear ski pants every day, two wool sweaters, two warm hats under my Santa cap, and more layers than that under my wool coat. A lot of people say, “You picked a cold day to do this!” or “You must be freezing!” Some nights I nearly am, but other times I’m hot in all those layers. I look at these people, dressed as if for summer, and I wonder how they can stand just walking in and out of the store. Some say, “You should be inside!” I don’t belong inside; I would bake in my layers, I wouldn’t be able to sing, and I probably couldn’t ring, either.

I have to carry a lot with me on the bus to work including a full thermos, a lunch to eat just before I start, a cozy blanket for when I am sitting on the colder days, toe and hand warmers, you name it. So I don’t take a book. I am used to reading on the bus. Ergo, I’m not getting my reading done. And—here’s where the real confession comes in—although I have no excuse about weight or volume at home, I have hardly read my Bible since I started the job this season. Normally I read some nearly every morning with breakfast. Now at that meal, I pore over my schedule book, address Christmas cards, make phone calls, whatever else I feel I need to do. I feel like the biblical Martha, a human doing rather than a human being, when I’m at home doing all these tasks. Only last Saturday and Sunday did I slow down. I found play even more necessary than sleep last night. I dinked around on the computer until about 4 in the morning, although I had to get up at 6:30 to get ready for church. Then, I brought a book on the bus, Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power Of Positive Thinking. And I actually read! I read about the importance of taking time to relax and to read some Bible.

The human being is alive from the depths of her heart at the kettle. My church has no choir, and I haven’t played my guitar in a long time; I lack the motivation to take up those songs I wrote long ago or write new ones when the guitar playing has become so rusty. But at the kettle, the person I most entertain is myself. What I lack in Bible reading, I make up for in worship. When the only reading I do is the lyrics in my song folder, I’m in my element. Some of the songs even make me cry—which is bad for singing, let me tell you. And my range is sometimes lacking, especially earlier in the day. Although “O Holy Night” is practically everyone’s favorite, I won’t attempt it before dark. But I can sing “I Want a Hippopotamus” anytime. “The Grinch Song” I don’t usually attempt because I’m afraid passersby might think I’m saying all those despicable things about them. Anyway, you get the idea.

If you want to read some of my reflections about Christmas songs, go to http://robinlayne.hubpages.com/hub/Cr.... It also features a picture of me at the kettle and a video of me singing my “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas” verses … complete with my daughter’s cat on my lap—until he, like my audience in front of the store, rushes off to other business.

Another confession: I did bring my draft of this post with me on the bus to edit. But since it’s not a book, it doesn’t really count as “reading,” does it? Just as writing short things like this while ignoring my novel-in-progress doesn’t count as “writing.”

The reason I have time to post this now is that my body very radically told me to take a break: The ankle I sprained prior to the beginning of my job acted up today and I had to skip working on what might be one of the best-yielding days of the season (the Saturday before Christmas). And if it’s not the ankle, it’s a knee. At least there were two volunteers today, from 10 to noon and from noon to 2.

I’d already arranged for a friend to pick up my Christmas food box today. Can you hazard a guess as to the source of this gift? Yep. The Salvation Army. Better than the food, to my mind, was flyer with a new rendition of the Lord’s Prayer:

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
As above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals,
Keep us forgiven with you
And forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the evil one.
You’re in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You’re ablaze in beauty!
Yes. Yes. Yes.
AMEN

Okay . . . When it’s that potent a message, it doesn’t have to be a portion of a book. It counts as reading.

I will post a picture of myself at the kettle from a few years back in my Photos section.

I urge you also to “do the most good” in all your endeavors both during this season and all year long.

Merry Christmas to all, to all a good night, and peace through 2014!