Widows and Orphans

I have a confession to make: there is something I do prior to beginning a new writing project that is totally unnecessary, but that I do out of purely ritualistic fervor, that I do because I've been doing it since I first began writing, and that I do because it signals to my brain: You are about to write.  You are about to begin.  You are about to travel a path you have traveled many times before and love well, but is exciting and frightening for all that.  Gather yourself in.  Take a moment.

Do I light a candle?

Do I burn incense?

Do I play solitaire, like Maya Angelou?

Do I take a walk?

Do I crack my knuckles?

Do I pray?

Breathe deeply?

No.

I practice Widow and Orphan Control.

Widow and Orphan Control, as I'm sure you know, is that handy little feature in word processing that keeps single lines of text  from straggling, forlorn and alone, at the bottom of a page, or shivering naked and lost at the top of the next.  Widow and Orphan Control is designed to keep your pages looking square and sound, parented and married, and it's easy enough to make it a default setting, so that every time you begin An Exciting New Document you needn't worry about Dickensian Strays and Impoverished Dowagers.  One click, at most two, and, summarily defaulted, you never have to think about them again.  They simply vanish from your concern.  You do not have to meet them every morning, or every time you prepare to embark on your uncertain journey.

But . . . I like to.

Beginning An Exciting New Document, I always choose double- or single-spacing, and then navigate to Widow and Orphan Control and consciously Choose to Bring My Sentences Home, Love.

There is something immensely satisfying about this.

It's as if I'm saying: The Road may be Long, the Way may be Hard, Dear Words, but We are in this Together, and I will Not Abandon you.

It's as if I'm saying: Come into the Fold, and we'll hash it out As Best We Can.

It's as if I'm wedding myself to my work.  Sealing.

Again.

Silly little gesture.  Unnecessary.

But necessary.

"Come, children.  I do."

May you have a blissful writing week, my friends.

--MD

A Gift to the Reader: The Cider House Rules

I was led recently to reread THE CIDER HOUSE RULES by John Irving. And while I was once again seduced by Irving’s incredible skill at creating characters I would recognize if they appeared at my backdoor, and drawn almost compulsively into the lives of Doctor Wilbur Larch and his never-adopted orphan Homer Wells, there was something else that struck me this time around. Something aside from how deeply and almost reverently Irving presents these people to us couched in all their little curious quirks and idiosyncrasies. Something in addition to the rational and even-handed way in which he presents the emotionally charged issues that fall on either side of the abortion debate. And that was the oft-repeated theme throughout the novel that one should “be of use”. I found myself thinking that in terms of our place in the world, how simple is this advice, to be of use, and how satisfying. Doubtless, if I wait another ten years to reread this story again, I will find some other jewel worth keeping. Irving’s tales are so layered, not everything worth having can be had at one sitting. Still, it’s days now since I finished reading the book and that advice continues to run through my mind . . . wherever you find yourself, be of use.

Sunday Night Groove: Ray LaMontagne & the Pariah Dogs "God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise"

Promise Me excerpt in Parade Magazine: Meet Suzy and Nan, the real women behind Susan G. Komen for the Cure

In the Sunday paper today, Parade Magazine is featuring an excerpt from Promise Me: How a Sister's Love Launched the Global Movement to End Breast Cancer, the forthcoming memoir by Nancy Brinker, founder and CEO of Susan G. Komen for the Cure (with a little help from her Memoir Guru):

Stretched out on her chaise, my sister wore a cover-up that left her bare legs in the sunshine. Her limbs were so thin and knobby, she looked like a girl playing dress-up. I had to smile, thinking of the two of us in the backyard when we were kids, dancing in our coconut bras and hula skirts, pretending our ponies were stallions, playing patty-cake with our dolls.

Tears stung my eyes behind my sunglasses. Suzy’s role as a mainstay in my life had begun with the sound of her voice before I was born. She’d been with me for every major moment since. The dizzying speed with which our time together was coming to an end left me breathless.

Click here to read the rest, and (at the risk of sounding like Vince the Slap Chop guy) pre-order now and get a free copy for your sister!

3 Questions for New BtO member Barbara Sissel

Today, we'd like to welcome a new blogster joining us here on BtO, the very talented writer and editor, Barbara Sissel with whom I've had the pleasure of critiquing for many years. A wickedly-smart reader and writer, she's been my go-to beta reader since before I first published, and I can tell you, I never consider a manuscript ready until she's given it her seal of approval. Or made me rewrite the danged thing until it measured up.

She's also the person, or one of them, I credit for my editors' (mistaken) belief that I write manuscripts that come in so clean they squeak.

BtO: Hi, Barbara, and welcome to Boxing the Octopus. First off, can you tell us a little about how you came to be so wise in the ways of the word?
A. Thank you, Colleen. The critique partner street runs both ways! As for my love of reading and language, my mother was definitely my major source of inspiration. A writer herself, she was the one who challenged me to read widely, who would say the proper understanding of a word in all its variations of color and mood was achieved only after you could define it in three different ways. From elementary school on, building sentences and then small stories from my vocabulary words was my absolute favorite activity. I always had my hand in the air.

BtO: What are your favorite types of books to write, read, and review? (Okay, technically, that's three questions, but you didn't really think I'd play fair, did you?)
A. I tend to love to read, write and review "thinky" books, books that pose a moral dilemma where something terrible happens to ordinary people and they are compelled to endure a "dark night" experience. I don't mind if a book doesn't end so happily with all the characters walking off into the sunset, but I like it much better if there is love and forgiveness at the end.

BtO: I find you such a perceptive reader, I've always loved sharing book recommendations with you and can't wait to hear about old and new titles you're loving? What's your philosophy going to be when reviewing books for the blog?
A. In the course of life I tend to go with the old adage, if you can't say anything nice ... etc. etc. If I feel the time I spend reading a book is wasted, I certainly don't want to then spend more time writing about that. Reading is so subjective in any case. Not everyone is going to love the same book, thank heaven! But if I read a book and something of its flavor lingers, if I come away with the gift of new insight, say, or if I'm reminded of some life-affirming treasure, I'm going to want to review that book, to share whatever jewels I've picked up, with others.

BtO: Anything else you'd like to share?
A.I'm delighted to be included with such a wonderful panel of contributors to BtO and looking forward to sharing my love of reading and writing with others. Thanks ever so much for the privilege.

Thanks for joining us, Barbara, and welcome to the group! We're delighted to have you here.

My Wheel is in the Dark

Friends, I thought I'd share with you the words that have sustained me this week, both as a writer and as a human being.  The lines below are from Emily Dickinson.  I tend to turn to Dickinson when I'm seeking quiet inspiration, or simple fortitude.  Her Complete Poems are such a rich source.  I usually find exactly what I need.  These are the lines I turned to, both literally and figuratively, this week:


My wheel is in the dark!
I cannot see a spoke
Yet I know its dripping feet
Go round and round


Half-way through week, I tried imagining the stanza without the word "dripping" in it.

Then I put it back in.

It made all the difference.

Have a wonderful weekend.

--MD

Roger Ebert looks back on reading, writing, and religion in Catholic school

Roger Ebert posted this really lovely piece about his Catholic school education. From "Mary, we crown thee with flowers today":

I threw myself into the school's annual magazine subscription contest, sponsored by the Curtis Circulation Company. A portion of each subscription went to the school, and the best salesman won a trophy. I won two years in a row, flogging the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, Popular Mechanics and dozens of other titles (the nuns neatly crossed off Esquire on every form). A Curtis pitchman arrived to kick off the next year. "Everyone you know is a sales opportunity!" he lectured us in the auditorium. "Your parents, your neighbors, even people you meet! Don't be shy! Sell those subscriptions!"

I raised my hand. "Sir," I asked, "would you like to buy a subscription?" I expected laughter, applause and his congratulations. What I got was total silence and Sister Gilberta ordering me to meet with her in the hall to explain why I had embarrassed my whole school. Then followed conferences with my parents. I felt humiliated and outraged. I thought I'd been outrageously mistreated by people with no imagination or sympathy. I suppose in another sense I was being a little asshole. That pattern has persisted.

Click here to read the rest, and don't hit Netflix without consulting Roger Ebert's Movie Yearbook 2010.

Who was Steig Larsson? (The story behind the man behind The Girl)

Since Steig Larsson's posthumously published trilogy became a blockbusting phenomenon, there's been much speculation about the author, his life, his death, the dark themes in of sexual violence and political corruption in his books. Yesterday in the Daily Mail, Larsson's friend, Kurdo Baski shed some light on the story behind the Girl Who books:

A year after Stieg's death from a heart attack, the journalist in me was still asking questions. No human being is capable of working as hard as he did. Did he do it to achieve ambitious goals or was it a form of escapism? Stieg had so many secrets - the most extreme was the trilogy that he wrote at night. That was unusual enough, but stranger still was the fact that he waited to complete three thumping great novels before submitting them to a publisher.

One interesting tidbit in the article: Larsson's original title for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was Men Who Hate Women, and he refused to change it on the original Swedish edition. And you'll be comforted to know, me hearties, the trilogy was roundly and soundly rejected before it found the right publisher. Click here to read the rest.

It's a Book: Lane Smith's latest is a little naughty, but mostly nice

Lane Smith has never been one to baby our kids. He teamed up with Jon Scieszka to create two of my kids' childhood favorites, The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs. His latest is causing a bit of a stir because of some language that strikes some book buyers (and sellers) as not okay for the target audience, listed as Grades 3-5. I know there's going to be some parental tsk-tsking, but so far critics are cool with it. Wall Street Journal praised the stylish design, and School Library Journal says, "Mouse delivers the final punch line, which will lead to a fit of naughty but well-deserved laughter."

The last line is included in the little trailer above. What do you think?

My kids, for better or worse, grew up with some pretty salty language around the house. Back when my daughter was in the "Stinky Cheese Man" demographic, she described me to her teacher as "a Christian who says 'shit'." So I won't be the one to cast the first stone.

Visit Lane Smith online.

Important Things

I've had a bad few days. Last week, I was stuck on a scene (that I have finally figured out--I think), and was in one of those trying places we can get to as writers. I'm sure you know the feeling. At least please tell me I'm not the only one. It's that place where just because one scene is failing we think the rest of our writing is doomed, and then we go surfing the net and reading people's opinions on writing and start measuring everything against what the editors and agents are saying.

Last week it was Moonrat's blog on the present tense and why it doesn't usually work for novels. As great as that post is, it gave me that awful feeling at the pit of my stomach, because almost my entire novel is written in the present tense. The irony is that before this book, I had never written in the omniscient voice and also never written fiction in present tense. But the voice for this novel came out that way, and I went with it. And out of the 13 people who have read and commented to the novel so far, not a single person has even mentioned the tense. It was one of those things I never even thought about--until that post.

But while I was in the middle of freaking out about all this and feeling doomed with the novel, my writing, and my entire life, something happened. Something that put everything else into perspective. I was sitting in the adjunct office at school, almost literally beating my head against the desk, and my best male friend called. I picked up the phone, thinking he was having some sort of amazing psychic prediction (it's happened before with us).

"Thank God you called," I said. "I was just in the middle of an argument with myself."
"Hey, I'm at Memorial Hospital. My mother's dead."

My mother's dead. As the weight of that sentence began to sink into me, I struggled to listen. I struggled to get my head around what he was saying, although it became suddenly hard to focus. I could hear people in the background moving around, bits and snatches of voices. I heard his father saying something.

"I want you and Mark to come to the funeral."
"Of course. Of course. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

As we sat there together, on opposite sides of the call, neither of us saying much, the weight sank and sifted. It filled the space around us.

"How are you? Do you need me to meet you there?"
"I don't know. It's been fifteen minutes." Fifteen minutes. Just moments since that life let go. Fifteen minutes since a wife left her husband, and a mother slipped away from her 34-year-old son. When we ended the call, I got on my knees and wept.

Surely our writing is important. But surely there are more important things.

NPR's Nancy Pearl gives a boost to some terrific under-the-radar fiction

According to librarian Nancy Pearl on NPR's Morning Edition, there's some great fiction out there just below the blockbuster bellowing radar. Among her favorites, Blood Harvest, a "spine-tingling gothic thriller" by S.J. Bolton, Under Heaven, a genre-defying historicalish kinda literary scifi/fantasy novel by Guy Gavriel Kay ("superb...gorgeously written and thoroughly researched"), and Last Night in Montreal by Emily St. John Mandel.

Pearl had picked up the freshly minted Montreal paperback at the library, then searched out ESJM's latest, The Singer's Gun...

"I've been trying to think of what metaphor to use in order to convey my experience with both these outstanding novels. To me, reading them was like watching through the lens of a camera as its focus gradually widens from a close — up shot; with each page the camera pulls farther and farther back, and we see more and more detail about how that initial view (person, event) fits in the larger picture. Or, alternatively, reading Mandel's books is akin to watching the ripples spread out from the initial "plunk" of a pebble tossed into a pond."

Click here to read/listen to the rest.

The Joy of Ritual

She's baaack! After a full day of recovery (and laundry, laundry, laundry) in the wake of the exhilarating, exhausting annual national conference of the Romance Writers of America, I'm more than a little ready to return to Ye Olde Comfortable Routine. Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love seeing friends, my agent, editors, and everyone else at each year's gathering. I enjoyed presenting my "How to Finish the Damned Book" workshop, meeting new people, and attending the parties, but I'm one of those writers who needs calm, quiet, and freedom from (oh, look! It's a squirrel on a trampoline!) distractions to produce.

Introverted much? Like so many writers, I am. As much as I like people, all these interactions drain me, to the point where I can barely remember my stories, much less work on them.

My preferred daily routine is anything but exciting. It involves breakfasting with a caffeine source and the paper, tending the pets, and dealing with e-mail. Walking through the neighborhood and blogging have been incorporated, but finally, I sit down and get back to my work in progress.

That's the place where joy lives, but it's tough for me to find without my little rituals. Music and occasionally candles (when they don't set off my allergies) can figure in. A mindless computer game can help me focus as well, but I have to be very careful not to allow the rituals to consume the day.

The work is most important. The work is what keeps me sane. And the dream, the goal, is the target upon which I keep one eye fixed.

Now that the hoopla's all behind me, I can see it once again.

The wondrous creations of Kelly Gale Amen

Pardon me while I have a fan girl moment. Last night at Lisa Hamilton's benefit performance of "Bald in the Land of Big Hair" (an ingenious one-woman show based on my memoir), I met Houston artist Kelly Gale Amen. I've loved (no, make that LOVED -- like a tween loves Bieber, like an elbow patch loves Proust) his mind-expanding, space-bending furniture for years. Now that I've met the guy, I understand why these pieces bring such a strong vibe of joy into the spaces they inhabit. He's a fabulously styled force for good in Houston and the universe. Pictured here, an art bed created in collaboration with Texas Children's Hospital cancer patients and their siblings. Click here to visit the KGA interior gallery and be agog.