Happy Birthday, Gabo!

As I recover from the AWP conference from last week, I'm putting together some blog posts that I think you'll really love. But I couldn't let today pass by without a birthday shot out to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Gabo, the man I call El Maestro. Why do I call him teacher? Because he taught me how to be a writer and a journalist and how parts of those professions are married into each other. He taught me it's okay to be both. He taught me to enjoy my natural curiosity. He taught me that family is the best well for story telling. He taught me that every life experience leads to a moment, the moment when you realize that writing chooses you and there is nothing you can do but become the storyteller you were meant to be.

Feliz cumple, Gabo!

Here the Christian Science Monitor did a great slideshow of Gabo quotes. Here is his famous interview in the Paris Review. And here is an article announcing the ebook version of 100 years of Solitude. Enjoy!

From the road: Having a dinner conversation with your characters

Tonight, I wanted what could be the final meal of my train trip to be great. Taking the train from Longview to Chicago and then back again for the AWP convention was fantastic. Except for losing a post for this blog, everything went without a hitch so to celebrate, I treated myself to a dinner in the dinning car.

That was probably the best decision I made this entire trip.

When I was seated (for dinner you can only make a reservation) I was alone, with all the other booths filled with people already having dinner conversations. Then, shortly after ordering my Mountain Dew, a woman and her mother slipped into the seat in front of me. The daughter was in her early 40s and the mom was elderly. Both African American women were beautiful. The daughter, at points, took the role of caretaker with the the mom and helped her order her meal. She was confident, an Atlas without the struggle. Her mother had the glow of warmth and was very approachable.

They both looked like they had a story to tell and I was ready to listen.

During dinner, the daughter and I learned how, in a Kevin Beacon six degree of separation way, we knew some of the same people and graduated from the same university (me undergrad and her masters) and were in a similar discipline. As they talked and, most especially when they interacted with each other, I realized that the story they had to tell was what I was already writing. The mother was an older version of a character in the current short (maybe) story I was writing. This is who Lola becomes.

I was having dinner with my character and her daughter and it was all I could do to rip my computer open and start writing.

Instead I watched them, heard them talk, observed their interaction. Then I listened to my creative brain fill me in on the rest of my story. Who's daughter was that? When did Lola have it? What did her mother say? How did it change her life?

Those answers came to me and all because of a dinner conversation. I can't tell you how awesome I'm feeling right now!

Don't you love it when the ghosts talk? A very fruitful train ride, indeed.






- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:R Trails Rd,Mineral Point,United States

The kind of writer I DON'T want to be

We write because we have reasons that compel us to, a voice where one didn't exist, a story determined to be written, a calling.

I didn't become a writer to be praised, to have people fawn all over me, to been someone's queen. Those are all great things, if that's how you measure your self worth. And certainly it feels fantastic to be told how your work has influenced someone. But that's not why I write.

I write because, simply, I have something to say. Because I can tell a story and I love doing it. Because there are few stories out there for me. Because I want to be a master storyteller. It's what I've always wanted and it's how I'm programmed.

Being with a large group of writers this weekend at the AWP conference in Chicago taught me two things -- not everyone thinks that way and I know what kind of writer I don't want to become.

While I have met some great people, there is a large group who are sharks. There are so many here that I can smell the blood in the water. It's a competition. Who can get the most attention for their reading, book, chap book, organization, etc. Which program is the best? Why I'm a superstar and why you should know me.

I thought we were hear to talk about writing?

As I write this, I am currently in the over-priced cafe in the large and over designed hotel where this event is hosted. I've walked out of my second panel in two days, I avoided going to another panel because it was at another hotel and the bus was too late to go. I haven't had a conversation with a soul since earlier this afternoon though I'm surrounded by thousands of people -- I don't feel the need to engage with my fellow writers for fear of disappointment.

But I guess I already am.

The entire time I've been here I've thanked my lucky stars that I'm a journalist. And though working at a daily newspaper does little to protect your writing spirit, it does keep you grounded into the reality. The reality here is that "writer" means different things to different people. To me it's this life mission, this purpose, a calling. Its also a gift. I'm not sure if even five percent of the people at this conference share the same vision.

One more day and I return to create in the safety of my world.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:S Michigan Ave,Chicago,United States

From the road: Settling on the setting

Editor's Note: This post was written with an iPad app.

On this ride to Chicago, I am lucky enough to have my short story with me to work on.

It's something I've been working on for a bit, since before graduation. And just like with new pieces, it's a bit like a weed. It's unruly. It doesn't know what it wants to be yet but it knows it doesn't want to be what I want it to be.

One of the things I'm having problems with is the setting. It feels like a historical piece, set in the south in the 40s.

That's pretty easy if you live in Shreveport, LA considering very few things have changed since then but what about the setting reflects my character?

And there is where the journey began for me. How is my main character like the setting? How did it reflect her and her story? And, how will it change when she changes.

Then I thought about how African Americans would take trips north to start a new life when the old one had....overwhelming difficulties. They would take those trips on trains, like the one I'm riding now.

What would make someone run? A mistake. A big one. And bam! The story opened up in a different way. It was finally telling me what it want to be, what the arc was, and the ending. I call this "talking ghosts" when characters literally tell you their story.

I love it when that happens. And this couldn't have happened without a simple train ride looking at scenes like this:



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:St Louis Riverfront Trail,St Louis,United States

From the road: Where I am that is where I am going*

*excuse the Lispector reference

The starting point

So where am I going? To Chicago!

I'm taking the train to Chicago from Longview, Tx to attend the AWP conference. In fact, I'm writing this post on the train now. We've stopped briefly in St. Louis, MO.

Before I continue with this post, I have to say I had already written it. I wrote this post originally on my iPad app but somehow, as it was posting, it got lost and never posted. Imagine in my surprise....

So what did I say? I made the case for train travel as a way to people watch. As we all know I love to people watch. I call that collecting characters. Everyone has something special about themselves and when people aren't watching, that's when that special jumps out at you. You just have to be patient.

Take for example one of the first characters I collected on this trip-- an older gentleman at the depot. He was old, graying at the temples, and his world began and ended at his walking cane. He was blind and his smile was the length of the train track behind him. He was on his way to Chicago as well and seemed like he'd done the trip a couple of times. His stutter was adorable, he laughed through the difficult words.

What is so remarkable about this man is that through what some folks would see as challenges, he is smiling and adoring his life and the conversation he was having. What happened in his life to get to this point? Was he always blind? Did he always stutter?

That's a character. He needs to be written. I find him fascinating and worthy of words. Don't know when I'll use him, but I will one day and it all started at the train depot.

Another character was an older woman from Texas I had the pleasure of having breakfast with. She was well-dressed in her demur lime green suit, her glasses dangling from her bejeweled chain. Her eyes were a dashing  blue and her silver hair was tousled after a night of sleeping on the train. I sat down across from her and had a conversation. She told me about her children -- three. Where she was going -- Washington D.C. Who put her on the train--her daughter and all the other information one talks about with strangers. And then we started to talk about our lives, where we lived, what we'd seen and what we thought. She was your typical Southern woman with a sophistication you only see in people north of the Mason-Dixon. She's seen a lot and experienced more. She was a revolutionary wrapped in a grandmother's body. She's worthy of words.

I love collecting characters, it's like building up an arsenal. I don't know when I will use these characters or if I'll use them as is or parts of them, but it's nice to know I have something to pull from.

Write on everyone and I'll see you in Chicago! 

A new experience

I'm currently in a place I have never been to do.something I have never done. Remember when I talked about having new experiences to help you with your writing? I'm having one.of those moments now.

I'll reveal what I'm doing soon. Like in an hour. But just a hint...you might want to stat tuned to this blog for the week.

#MotivationMonday Getting rid of the cobwebs

Before: My desk "cleaned off" while writing my thesis

After: My clean desk after thesis

Not gonna lie. I love the way my desk looks today. 

There's something cathartic about cleaning off your space after a project. This past weekend was the first free weekend after graduating from Goddard College.  Though the before picture above doesn't reflect it, my desk was a jungle of paper,packet responses, and books. There was a space carved out for my computer but not much beyond that. 

However, with the limited space, I didn't feel claustrophobic. It was homey, and amid the chaos there was order, albeit my order but order nonetheless. I knew that behind my computer screen, if I closed the laptop, would be books I had read through the semester, my dictionaries (English and Spanish) thesauri (yes, more than one), and my grammar books. They were there when I needed them and for writing annotations and 20 page critical papers. 

But those days are done, at least for now, so why was all that stuff still on my desk? The end of my semester was in December! 

Maybe it was because it was comfortable. Writers are like that. We like comfort and routine and ritual, even when that ritual is no longer needed. We feel comfortable with what's familiar. That twing of nostalgia, however, is an interrupter. Just looking at the books were enough to send me strolling down memory lane--the first book I read during my program, the one I was surprised by, the one that opened up plot possibilities. Then the HUGE pile of papers would be distracting--my last packet response, the first one, the one with the notes I wanted to keep forever. None of it was inspiring, which is what is needed on a desk. All of it were excuses not to write and yet feel like I'm writing. 

So I cleaned off my desk and peeled of everything that would distract me. After all, I didn't need that stuff anymore. I also shelved all my books. ALL OF THEM. Including the reference books. By doing that, I inadvertently followed Stephen King's advice. 

As I sit at my desk, I now feel like I've closed a chapter on one project and I'm ready to start another, a fresh start. Now, I get to work on filling my desk with more papers and books for the new works about to be created and that makes me feel great. 

So today, on #MotivationMonday, I say to you look at your work area. Are you ready to start a new story or poem? Have you started a new project? Look around. Your surroundings can help you with getting off on the right foot. 

Write On! 

Graduate reading(s) or how to get everyone in the same space

One of the hardest things for me last week is not having my friends and family with me. Of course I had my Goddard peeps but my friends and family helped me get my MFA. They were the ones who helped me through some of the rough spots. They saw me fall apart before picking me back up and sending me back down the path.

They didn't get to hear me read or get to be part of this past amazing weekend. So I thought since I had this amazing venue, I'd read what I read for my graduate reading. It will also give regular readers of this blog a chance to hear what I'd been working on for the past two years. So for all the people who couldn't be there and for the folks who want to hear it again (or for the first time) here it is! I'm extremely proud of it and hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

Part One

Part Two