Tag Archives: Books

The Rules of Summer by Shaun Tan

April 27, 2016 By in Books, Movies & Music Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

People who know me are aware of my love of books but may not know that I enjoy picture books every bit as much as novels and works of non-fiction. For those who don’t know me, start here (My Love Affair With Books).

The Rules of SummerA couple of weeks ago, as I shelved picture books in the children’s department of the library where I used to work, I discovered Shaun Tan’s book, The Rules of Summer. The unusual artwork on the cover immediately caught my eye, and I indulged in a few stolen moments to read the book. What a treasure.

The lean text tells the story of two brothers and the unique and arbitrary rules that govern their summer. The pictures, semi-abstract creations in oil and acrylic, relay a deeper story about the nature of the boys’ relationship.

I believe the story speaks volumes about how people treat each other whether they’re children or adults, friends or family. It’s testimony to how far we will go in our relationships and exactly what we’ll tolerate and for how long. This may sound heavy for a picture book, but the beauty of the subtle message is that there is hope even when human nature ensures that this process repeats itself. When it does, we learn and grow, love and forgive.

I’ve already enjoyed reading The Rules of Summer five times and have decided that I must own a copy for my private library. The book as a whole is an incredible work of art, and I’ll never tire of sifting through the many layers of the story, both words and pictures.

Baring My Writer’s Soul – Part 14

March 15, 2016 By in Writing Advice, Writing Toolbox Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

Writer's Soul 14I’ve been thinking quite a lot about my writing, and I don’t mean in quantity. Rather, I’ve been thinking a lot of different things about what my writing is or isn’t.

It started last year around November when my novel was technically finished. There were a few minor points that needed to be re-researched (is that even a word), and I had a wonderful research librarian who I met at the Conneaut D-day Reenactment assisting me. The whole process was starting to bog me down. I began to hate it, resent it, and wanted to dig a deep hole in my back yard in which I could bury my book without any witnesses.

The holidays were coming, and since much of the preparation for Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and Christmas fell to me, I really didn’t have anything left to give my writing. I didn’t want my writing to suffer, but I felt so guilty about setting it aside. After all, what kind of writer would I be if I wasn’t writing every single day? Good question.

While wrestling with this dilemma and wanting to be able to focus on all the fun that comes with the holidays, I ran into our pastor’s wife at the local grocery store. After the usual pleasantries, she asked after my novel. I told her what I’ve already mentioned above and concluded that I wish someone would give me the permission to quit for a little while. If I could just take a break, I knew I would go back to writing in January once I was refreshed.

She looked at me and said, “Heather, I give you permission to quit.”

Even now I laugh at how easy it was for someone else to grant me the grace I needed to give myself but was unable to. And guess what? I did go back to the writing and research in January as I promised myself I would. In fact, I attacked it with renewed vigor and produced better writing than I would have had I pressed myself to go on through November and December. What’s more, I enjoyed it!

So what’s the point of this blog post you may ask? It still scares me somewhat that I took off two months of much needed rest time. There are so many writing books, and I imagine books devoted to other forms of art, that will tell you to create every day without fail. Are these people right in tasking others in this way?

Yes and no. If I said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. You have to find out what works for you. Thankfully, the day I returned to writing coincided with Chapter 11 of Heather Seller’s book, Page After Page. The writing exercises in this chapter were wonderful for getting me back on my rails. You’ll understand this better when you read the book which I highly recommend you do.

The funny thing was, while Chapter 11 worked for me, I recalled that before the holidays, Chapter 10 flipped me out. This is the beauty of the book. The next time I read it, Chapter 10 may be exactly what my writing needs. All this to say, don’t be afraid to embrace the bad (insert chosen art form here) because you may uncover a gem on the way to the good (insert chosen art form here).

In doing so, your creativity will flow and your art will come naturally. There are going to be different amounts of flow, and that’s to be expected. Don’t despair over these days even if they extend into weeks, months, or years. Begin again in small ways, flex your creative muscles, and build up to your peak performance like an athlete training for the Olympics. You will achieve gold.

Write Happy!

Baring My Writer’s Soul – Part 12

November 3, 2015 By in Books, Movies & Music, Writing Advice, Writing Toolbox Tags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

Writer's Soul 12Today’s Writer’s Soul blog post is going to be a bit like tap dancing on a landmine.  Per the suggestion in Page After Page, I’m going to explore my parent’s influence on my writing life. When I first read the exercise, I thought to myself, “There isn’t enough red wine in the entire world to make me do this, especially when both parents follow my blog.” Yet here we are.

I don’t believe either of my parents ever aspired to be writers, although I do remember mom jotting down an occasional poem during my childhood. That’s okay because neither resisted the idea of writing or being an artist of any kind.

The funny thing is I don’t really consider either of them to be readers. Well, not on the same level that I hoard and consume books anyway. Mom admits that she came to pleasure reading as an adult when she read The Wind in the Willows. This still surprises me because she was always reading to me and my brother when we were little. In fact, I credit Mom with instilling in me a love for books as I mentioned before.  (My Love Affair With Books)

I only remember my Dad reading Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon Days and John Irving’s The World According to Garp. Otherwise, my only memories of Dad reading were the gigantic manuals and/or books he studied when testing to make rank on the police force.

To what degree did my parents influence my writing? Mom is extremely creative in areas of decorating, cooking, hosting, and crafting. Perhaps I’m drawing on these genes when I write. From Dad I learned that whatever I do should be done well and completed. I mention the completion aspect because he has always complained that Mom has thousands of dollars of unfinished crafts and too many tea sets. I think Dad doesn’t understand that creativity is ongoing.

Both of my parents are hard workers, and while Dad would probably say that he did what he wanted to in life, Mom would wistfully admit that there were things she would have liked to have done and didn’t. I know she wanted to own a bed and breakfast or tearoom.  Her dreaming is what prompts me to keep writing even when things seem hopeless and the self-doubts arise. Dad’s successful career causes me to worry about making money at writing. I believe this stems from the fact that he conveyed to me and my brother the need to get jobs that supported ourselves but didn’t necessarily allow us to follow our dreams. This is the type of influence one would expect from a provider.

With these perspectives on working and following dreams in mind, I am better able to understand why I vacillate between the thoughts of “Will I make any money at this or am I just chasing a pipe dream” and “I really want to write and be published more than any other creative endeavor.” There’s a lot of pressure that comes with such thoughts, but as an adult, I’ll own them.

If Mom and Dad aren’t the driving force behind my writing, who is? The first people to come to mind are the countless writers behind the Little Golden Books Mom bought for me. Laura Ingalls Wilder, Judy Blume, and L.M. Montgomery float to the surface of my memory. I could go on forever listing all of the authors and books I discovered through the years, but I’ll just say that my love of writing was birthed from my love of reading an excellent story.

What makes a great story? Great words. I admit, I’ve been caught reading with my lips moving, but if people would step closer and lean in, they would hear me reading softly to myself. When a passage is well written, it begs to be read aloud. My friend, Eleni Byrnes, would understand my obsession with words. She keeps a notebook of words she likes as she comes across them. It’s why she writes so well.

So, I’ll start with Eleni in my writing family tree and make her a sister. I’ll add Billie Letts and Wally Lamb as grandparents because they are excellent story tellers, and I’m all about the story. Isabel Allende will be my exotic aunt, and David Mitchell and David Liss my quirky cousins. Tim Gautreaux and Charles Frazier are favorite uncles.

Again, there are too many brilliant authors who have influenced my writing, so I’ll direct you to my Authors I Admire board on Pinterest and Goodreads to see who they are. Together, they make up my writing family tree and neighborhood.

I encourage everyone to explore who influences their writing or chosen art form. You’ll discover an extended family you never even knew you had.

Write Happy!

Baring My Writer’s Soul – Part 10

July 8, 2015 By in Writing Advice, Writing Toolbox Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment
Release the books and free your writing!

Release the books and free your writing!

Writing is art, and art is messy. When I realized this, my inner drill sergeant, who fears disorganization, freaked out. Then there is the side of me that yearns for the freedom that comes with creating art, to not have to worry about meeting arbitrary deadlines I’ve set for myself, to not fear the loose ends of my creative process. In short, order and chaos are at war in my brain.

Further frustrating my creative writing process is the fact that I stopped reading to devote time to my writing. Funny thing: the writing dried up.

I’ve heard it said more than once that to be a good writer you must read. That shouldn’t have been a problem for me since I own a private library and consume books the way a starving person attacks food. When I read, everything else fades into the background.

What I need to do is apply my love for books and the way I approach reading to my writing life. The problem is that I’m so structured in everything I do, my attitudes toward books and/or reading isn’t going to help my writing very much if I don’t learn to cut loose just a little.

Here’s my list of things I need to do:

  1. Read outside my favorite genre, historical fiction
  2. Quit lining up my books on shelves like obedient soldiers, take them with me everywhere
  3. Travel with a notebook to capture anything and everything that pops into my head because it may prove to be beneficial to my writing
  4. Quit deluding myself that I’ll ever have everything done all at once

And now I’m laughing at myself because my list is perfectly numbered and ordered. The important thing is that I recognize my need to lighten up, enjoy my writing, and live a peaceful life.

Write Happy!

My Love Affair With Books

February 3, 2015 By in Lightning Juice Tags: , , , , , , , 4 Comments
Bookcase of books I've already read.

Bookcase of books I’ve already read.

Long before I became a writer, I was a reader. I still am. I remember the exact moment my love affair with books began. My mother set the stage by taking me and my brother to the library and checking out the very best picture books. She always managed to find interesting stories combined with fabulous artwork. She read to us in a soft yet commanding voice, often in character, and her tone never condescended no matter how simple the story.

Mom further instilled my love of books when she started my own little library purchased from various book clubs listed in the back of children’s magazines. I still have my entire collection, and when I married, I inherited all of my husband’s childhood books. Score!

Newly acquired shelves to hold my growing collection.

Newly acquired shelves to hold my growing collection.

Still, it wasn’t until the third grade that I discovered for myself what a treasure a book truly is. My best friend at the time proposed a contest in which we would check out the same book during library time at school. Then we would race to see who could finish the book first. Our selection was Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House in the Big Woods. I trusted I would enjoy the book, but admittedly, my competitive side prompted me to read and win.

Determination to finish first meant that the book went with me to a sleepover at my cousins’ house. While all the other kids played football in the street, I stayed inside and read. In my defense, I wasn’t missing much; it was only football.

So many books, so little time.

So many books, so little time.

Something happened as I sat curled up on my aunt’s couch. The story opened up for me in a way that previous books never had. It’s not that I hadn’t read on my own prior to this or that other books weren’t as good. I remember the wonderful feeling I experienced when my imagination blended with visualizing the story in my head as I read the words on the page. Excitement almost distracted me when I realized how much I loved reading.