Cutting it

After hearing about the gather.com novel contest, I thought I might find something for memoir, so I did a net search. Amazingly, the Association of Writers & Writing Programs currently has an award series for poetry, short fiction and CREATIVE NONFICTION, just my thing! But only 300 pages, double-space. So I worried for a couple days, as I can't find a thing in my ms. that isn't either brilliant or essential and I am way over 300 pages.
But this morning, I realized all the Christmas episodes can be cut, the funny little side story about Janet at the hairwash can go, the dinner with Mr. Farah isn't important, maybe even the har, har Chuck episode can be shortened.
None of this is important to the story. I'm impatient now to get back to cutting this story down to size.
Reva

Remembering to say the obvious

I don't know why I am surprised about how my story develops. It's like I expect everything to be there in the first draft.

Regardless, I was amazed Tuesday evening when I wrote into the story that Guzal and I agreed early that I should write about her. In truth, within 20 minutes of meeting her in 1999, I wanted to write her story and I lost sleep that night because I realized she was my first book.

When I saw her next we talked about this and she was pleased; she wanted the story about her people in China told. That's why I hung on traipsing from one Chinese police station to another, I was getting my story.

Not until I've been working on the story for 5 years and have a very complete first draft done, does it occur to me to say this in the story.

Oh well, whatever it takes to get the story out of my head and onto the hard drive! Not the first time in my life it's taken 5 years to arrive at the obvious. And all I've had to do is insert some short conversations into the story. It's a great release.

reva

A Submission Today

I have been trying for 3 weeks to write a short piece for the Minneapolis Almanac. It should be easy, just 600 words about my hometown, but I could do nothing! Weird.

So I gave up and went back to my book. A weekend on the book and I was ready to write for the Almanac. Weird. As though the book was an energy field that held up everything else until I fed the field. Or drained it. Whatever.

Today I submitted a short piece on Tapestry Folkdance Center. I worked on it for hours yesterday and came up with a pretty-good piece. Not great, but it won't embarrass me. (I have published pieces that embarrass me. I suppose I'll do it again.) It felt wonderful to shoot it out to the editor this morning. I feel lighter in my body and happy.

It is difficult, very difficult to work FT AND write a book AND write short pieces. It's a lot to think through! My mind has felt crowded. But now, I am glad I pushed myself to do this short piece. Maybe, like exercise, it will make me stronger.
Reva

Out for a Swim

Outside my office window, the Mississippi is flowing by. Today it mainly reflects the blue-tinged white of the sky, then a darker gray where the banks cast their shadows. I am on the north bank watching its now westerly meander.

Amid the office chaos, I'm trying to writing, trying to throw myself down into that lazy drift from the eighth floor of this lovely old bank building where I (and a thousand like me) earn my daily bread. Then my neighbor coughs, I tighten in fear. I remind myself to breathe, look again out the window and remember that I can flow that easily too, let the words gush onto the page and dive to the depths of the poignant ache of Stella's heart as she misses home but fears returning to it.

Eddies turn me around. Should Stella take up the great metaphorical hobby of knitting? How will this battle between the two mothers conclude? Does Willie crave war or cigarettes? Will anyone ever care as much as I do about these small matters of their lives?

Oh, yes, this river is very deep indeed. ~ Victoria Tirrel