The Power of the Novel

[Yes, this is a non-Tuning Slide, non-Buddy's War post. I will try again to get back in this blogging swing. More on that at another time.]

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I stood in the kitchen and couldn't stop crying. I was almost a blubbering fool. Nothing had happened, other than I had just finished reading an amazing novel. I had spent the last 20 pages or so trying to focus through tears and now I was able to let the emotions go.

There was absolutely nothing new in the novel. I did not learn anything new about World War II or the Holocaust. I have been reading books like this, fiction and non-fiction since I first heard of Adolph Eichman in 1960. I have cried many times over these nearly 60 years.

But here I was doing it again with as much emotion as the first time, whenever that might have been. The good novel is not about learning new facts but experiencing a story of something we have always known in a new way. There is truth in the old line that there are only so many different plots to write about, we just repeat them over and over. But it is not the story that's new. We are new each time we read something. I am not the 12-year-old who first learned of the horrors of Hitler's Final Solution. But I experienced it yesterday for 2019. (That will be another post in a few days or week.)

It was so powerful that when I stopped crying I pulled out my journal and started writing what I was feeling. I wrote for almost five pages. It flowed more powerfully than the tears had. These were thoughts and emotions hooked by a story I knew, only this time with different characters and tugging on my heart in new ways.

Hence the importance of the novel. I have had people tell me they don't bother with novels, after all, they aren't true. Oh, but they are Truth in ways that facts can only hint at. Yes, the novelist wants to hook the emotions of the readers. The novelist is trying to get our attention and force us to look at life from a new perspective. That works best when our emotions are engaged.

Is that fair? Of course, it's fair- it is part of the unspoken contract between the writer and the reader. I read novels to give me new perspectives and new insights by looking at people responding to life as it happens. I want the novelist to be there with the story and to open me up.

But I've heard the story before. No, not with the awareness and experiences you have today. Hence my nearly five pages of longhand writing in my journal about a story that I pray will never become old, but will always challenge me and the world to want it to never happen again.

Yes, facts and histories can do that. Well-written non-fiction can have all the power of novels, but the novel has the advantage of taking us places where the facts my at times hide some truths that we may not want to see. The novel can sneak through our emotional backdoor and wake us up.

Novels are dangerous which is why they are so often the target of groups who want to control others. Banned books often contain uncomfortable sights. They can shine a spotlight of truth on what may be hidden in plain sight.

We are better for the work of the novelist. May they continue to take us to depths of emotion and so lead us to hope.

Overcoming Inertia

A body in motion tends to stay in motion;

a body at rest tends to stay at rest.

-- Newton's First Law of Motion

Yep, been there, done that! In fact my life in "semi-retirement" has been a cycle that illustrates this. Take this year.

January through March was our annual trip to the Gulf coast. While there I do a great deal of, well, resting. I don't want to call it "nothing." I practice my trumpet, go to band rehearsal, take sunset (and other) pictures, edit many pictures, and read. That isn't nothing, but it's at an easy pace, relaxed, healing, renewing.

In April I came home and got into the motion routine. More band rehearsals, no longer doing the picture editing but moving around to different events. And back to work, full-time! Get up at 6:30, go to work, come home around 5:00. Trips to music camps and a great festival in North Carolina. My daughter got married. It was not the easy, relaxed, renewing pace of the first three months.

In both those parts of the cycle I was minimally focused on some things I had wanted to be doing. After going back to work, it was even more difficult. Several significant projects were placed way on the back burner.

At the end of August the full-time work came to a halt, though I am still working part-time.  In the midst of that came several unexpected concerns that distracted my attention and added tension to the situation. Now all I seem to want to do is stay at rest. Everything seems to take an extra effort. Facebook nerding became a default. But the nightly reading was the great pull of the past few weeks. (That had kept up during the full-time cycle. I am not sure I would have made it if it hadn't.)

There is a clause missing in what I put at the top of the page. The motion or rest will continue:

unless an outside force acts on it,

So here I sit at my "office/coffee shop" trying to get moving.I can't seem to find that outside force to move me. So I start writing with no goal in mind other than to write about what is in front of me. As I write I let the words flow and the fingers to respond. As I do so there is a bit of free-flow of ideas that goes on under the surface.

For some reason I feel more tired than usual. Yes, that does happen from time to time. This one, though seems a little more difficult. I have a hunch that there are a couple different factors that keep the outside force from acting.

I just passed by 70th birthday. Yes, that is one of those significant decades. There have also been a couple of times when what I call "mortality" issues have cropped up in myself and other family members. I am also coming up on the 30th anniversary of my sobriety- an almost unbelievable number.

As a result I have become more aware of the issue of aging. Which leads to the obvious question:

What now?

Well, one of the answers to that is to come back to writing. So far that has taken more energy than I expected, but at least I am doing some of it.

Another is to go with the flow. My wife and I are going to be doing a number of fun things over the next month- concerts and plays. We are taking the time to continue to enjoy each other's presence. That is precious and essential.

Maybe it is also time to slow down more and smell more roses.

Over the years, I realize, I have faced this a number of different times. Which is part of life. Which is why I am writing this. To remind myself and do it publicly to make it more difficult to ignore.

So after these words and a half hour of writing I am at least for the moment off square one. It is always about taking the first step to get away from where you are to where you can be.

Doing Nothing Rots the Brain (Not)

Just thought I would check in here with something different- a post. yes, I know that I have been less than regular this winter. This snowbird time has been one of the most easy-going, even lazy times I have spent other than when recuperating from surgery. I have been doing next to nothing. That includes writing.

I promised a few weeks ago that I would post what I disagree with over Trump's actions and policies. No, I haven't done  it yet. No energy to write about that, though I have been thinking about it.

I have been reading a lot, but that's normal. No, I haven't written about any of them.

I have been practicing my trumpet, a daily routine and playing with the local community band. That is nothing but normal daily life for me now.

I have been taking pictures and wasting time working on them and posting them on a couple websites and Facebook. It doesn't take much energy to do that. It just happens.

We've seen a number of movies and one of these days I'll get around to writing about them.

I'm thinking about doing more research on my Dad's 80th Armored Medical Battalion with the 10th Armored Division in World War II. Notice I said I'm thinking.

I guess that's all good. It has been cooler than normal here, but not as bad as in the Bold North. The Eagles won the Super Bowl. That, too, is good. I spend too many hours surfing Facebook. I don't think that is good.

So, I am hoping that this post can be a kick in the ass to get me off square zero. My brain hasn't rotted yet- it's still working and connecting with fingers writing this. So  be warned. I'm still around.

The Power of Stories

Just finished reading an amazing trilogy of speculative fiction and fantasy that ranks in the top 5 along with Lord of the Rings. The Broken Earth Series by N. K. Jemisin is powerful, relevant, well-written and can change your perspective. (I will write a separate post on the series at a later date. One of the quotes I found compelling is about one who wants to be a "lorist", the caste that captures history and events in order to pass them down to the future. Here is what was said about them:

Lorists were warriors, storytellers, nobility. They told their truths in books and song and through their art… Not all fighters use knives, after all. [Emphasis in original.]
N. K. Jemisin, The Stone Sky

The last phrase sums up the work of writers. Whether they write fiction or non-fiction, essays or stories, poetry or prose, they are essential to making sure people learn and are informed. It is no wonder that dictatorial regimes seek to control the press and the writing of stories.

Nor is it a surprise that in our present political turmoil the charge of "fake news" is the new one aimed at political opponents, or that fake stories make headlines as if they are true. We have been in a period of attacks on the sacred American institution of a free press. That can be but a first phase of an attack on writers and storytellers with who the powers that be disagree. Censorship is a "four-letter word" in the United States so it will be far more subtle than that.

We must keep our eyes and ears open; we must maintain that freedom of storytelling, the telling of stories that contain the values and truth of who we are. These people with pens, pencils and paper- or computers and tablets- are essential. They are on the front lines of freedom at home.

Not all fighters use knives, after all.

Great Writing

It always amazes me, although I know it shouldn't be such a surprise, that I can often tell I'm reading a great book from the very beginning. There's something about the language and flow that grabs hold of me and won't let go.

I AM A SPY, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces. Perhaps not surprisingly, I am also a man of two minds. I am not some misunderstood mutant from a comic book or a horror movie, although some have treated me as such. I am simply able to see any issue from both sides. Sometimes I flatter myself that this is a talent, and although it is admittedly one of a minor nature, it is perhaps also the sole talent I possess. At other times, when I reflect on how I cannot help but observe the world in such a fashion, I wonder if what I have should even be called talent. After all, a talent is something you use, not something that uses you. The talent you cannot not use, the talent that possesses you—that is a hazard, I must confess. But in the month when this confession begins, my way of seeing the world still seemed more of a virtue than a danger, which is how some dangers first appear.

So begins the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen. It isn't often I will comment on a book I have barely started, but this one was an instant and powerful hook. (Well, doh, it is this year's Pulitzer Prize winner!)

Every literature professor and critic knows the way to build a story. Very few writers can do it masterfully. For example there is a slow release of information, unveiled bit by bit. A line piques your curiosity wondering what the connection is. A hint of few words about "my father" plants a seed- or is it a time bomb- that you are on guard to find out.

But above all, there is the language and the ability to tell you more in a few words than I could tell you in a whole chapter (or a whole sermon, for that matter.) Here are three that grabbed me and wouldn't let me go in the first chapter:

“Amid short tempers, Claude stayed cool, having lived here so long he barely perspired in the tropical humidity. He could sneak up on you in the dark, but he could never be invisible ”

“I finished the whiskey, then drove the General home through a storm, the amniotic water bursting over the city a hint of the forthcoming season.”

“We were smoking a final cigarette at the mouth of the dank, dripping alley that was the beer garden’s exit when a trio of hydrocephalic marines stumbled out of the vaginal darkness. ”

All excerpts From:

Viet Thanh Nguyen. “The Sympathizer.”

This is clearly a book to savor, rich in language, style, substance and story. It is clearly not a book to be taken lightly. I am already aware that there is going to be much to learn and experience about the human condition in this book. But I must not rush through it. It must be read with caution of its power and at a pace which allows it to become part of me.

As a writer such books make me cringe at my own verbosity here or in any of my sermons over the years. They also force me to look at the world around me in different ways than I may ever have before. This is the kind of book that affirms for me that fiction can be far more powerful in telling the truth than many a set of facts. Like any great book this one may have been conceived in the mind of the writer, but it is not false or fake.

Read, listen, and learn.

Calendar of Saints: Harriet Beecher Stowe (2)

Twice a week I post a quote from a saint from the Episcopal Calendar of Saints that week. They are to be meditative and mindful, playful and thought inducing. I hope they are helpful in your spiritual journeys.


Harriet Beecher Stowe
Writer and Prophetic Witness
July 1

Harriet Beecher was born in Litchfield, Connecticut on June 14, 1811. She was the daughter of outspoken religious leader Lyman Beecher and Roxana Foote, a deeply religious woman who died when Stowe was four years old. She was the sister of the educator and author, Catharine Beecher, clergymen Henry Ward Beecher, Charles Beecher, and Edward Beecher.

Harriet enrolled in the seminary run by her eldest sister Catharine, where she received a traditionally "male" education. At the age of 21, she moved to Cincinnati, Ohio to join her father, who had become the president of Lane Theological Seminary, and in 1836 she married Calvin Ellis Stowe, a professor at the seminary and an ardent critic of slavery. The Stowes supported the Underground Railroad and housed several fugitive slaves in their home. They eventually moved to Brunswick, Maine, where Calvin taught at Bowdoin College.

In 1850, Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Law, prohibiting assistance to fugitives. Stowe was moved to present her objections on paper, and in June 1851, the first installment of Uncle Tom's Cabin appeared in the antislavery journal National Era. The 40-year-old mother of seven children sparked a national debate and, as Abraham Lincoln is said to have noted, a war. Stowe died on July 1, 1896, at age eighty-five, in Hartford, Connecticut.



-Link

Calendar of Saints: Harriet Beecher Stowe (1)

Twice a week I post a quote from a saint from the Episcopal Calendar of Saints that week. They are to be meditative and mindful, playful and thought inducing. I hope they are helpful in your spiritual journeys.


Harriet Beecher Stowe
Writer and Prophetic Witness
July 1

Harriet Beecher Stowe (June 14, 1811 – July 1, 1896) was an American abolitionist and author. Stowe's novel Uncle Tom's Cabin (1852) depicted life for African-Americans under slavery; it reached millions as a novel and play, and became influential in the United States and United Kingdom and made the political issues of the 1850s regarding slavery tangible to millions, energizing anti-slavery forces in the American North, while provoking widespread anger in the South. Upon meeting Stowe, Abraham Lincoln allegedly remarked, "So you're the little lady who started this great war!" The quote is regarded as apocryphal.

-Link

Too Easily Distracted...

... But that's part of the fun!


We have been snowbirds for the past 7 weeks, but alas, the trip is over. The realities of March in Minnesota (talk about March Madness!) have settled in. It has been one of the finest winters for us. Doing nothing, reading, sleeping late and/or taking naps, producing 16 videos and taking a gazillion pictures. Ah, the life.

If it hadn't been for the daily Lenten posts, I would have been far behind in my daily discipline of my blogging. While I may not be officially diagnosed with ADD, I certainly show all the symptoms. (Look- a parasailer. My, maybe I should go walk on the... Wait a minute, I need to get the shells... Oh- it's time for Better Call Saul...)

I realize that this is one of the advantages of partial retirement and I will agree that if I were 100% retired back home, I would probably eventually go a little (more) bonkers. But then again...

The biggest problem was that I last any of the standard discipline I had worked so "hard" at developing last fall. The work on my writings has taken a back seat to many of those parenthetical things above. I have gone to the library at least once a week and did some writing, I played in a local community band and I had a great experience at a recovery convention. I remember reading somewhere (wait for it- here comes my justification) that there are times when you need to take a vacation from your writing when there is something you need to work through. I know that has been part of what is happening.

As I have been researching and writing on my Dad's 10th Armored/80th Medical history from these months at the end of World War 2, I have also been coming to some new insights on my Dad, his family and how it all has impacted me. As one of those introspective (not introverted), intuitive, feeling types, these are important times for me. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to experience and introspect on these things recently. As I settle back into my daily routines at home, they will do me well.

But the distractions will still get in the way- which for me is good.

# 5700

Sure, I get a little OCD about milestones along the way. So here's one as we end 2014. This is post # 5,700 in this experiment in blogging pilgrimage that started in 2003. Every time I pass one of these (admittedly) invented landmarks, I see that I am still having fun. I guess that's a good thing. Will see you all on the other side of midnight as 2015 gets off to a start.

This is the 74th post this month. I was really creative or something. That equals the record set for # of posts in July 2008. For what it's worth. (Yeah, about that much.)

Post 5500

It all started in March, 2003. I'm still at it. The discipline of writing a daily post has been (and on most days still is) fun. I'm not sure I will ever reach 10,000 posts, but I keep on keeping on.

One would almost think I had something interesting to say.

Overwhelmed

• With Baseball: The All Star Game activities were wondrous and fun. More- much more to come. But it has taken its toll on my writing and sense of movement forward.

• With Pictures: All that baseball has given me more than enough pictures to sort through, tag, classify, and decide what to keep. It is taking its toll on my writing and sense of movement forward.

• With Change: I didn't realize it until my wife put it together for me at lunch today, I am just now beginning to really work on this whole retirement thing. I have been a little unfocused, preoccupied, and somewhat inattentive. That, too, is taking its toll on my writing and sense of movement forward.

• With Ideas: Perhaps because of the first three, my mind is having a field day of thoughts and possibilities. Then they kind of flit around, go whizzing by the edge of consciousness, then dive back under the surface before some of them have a chance to be caught. Such takes a toll on my writing and sense of movement forward.

Forgiveness is therefore requested if any of this has had any impact on you. Not that I'm all that important, but I thought I would just say it anyway.

Story Start?

There are all kinds of resources available to help struggling writers get a jump start on their ideas. I was browsing in the bookstore at the Guthrie Theater on Saturday and came across one that was kind of unique. This one was made up of three panels: top, middle, and bottom. Each section was separate and you could flip to different selections in each one.

In the one I looked at

• Top was a situation
• Middle was a person
• Bottom was something happened.

I didn't flip or anything, I just opened it where each section kind of fell to. So here's the story idea it gave me:

While writing his autobiography the Elvis impersonator changed his identity.

I stopped a second, furrowed my brow for another second and then broke into laughter. What a neat idea; what an ironic twist of a story; the double meaning (or even a possible double entendre) could go a number of places. Some would be serious; others with a comedic bend in the road; still another might explore what identity really is. It could be fun.

I don't know if it will go anywhere, but it might be interesting to see where a short story goes with that.

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Couldn't resist adding this, inspired by thinking of "double entendre" above. I originally heard this on Garrison Keillor's A Prairie Home Companion joke show at least 10 years ago. I love it.

A woman walked into a bar and asked the bartender for a double entendre. So he gave it to her.

Read These

Again I say:

So many books;
So little time.

But when I read truly remarkable books, I want to share. Two of these recently have been:

• A Land More Kind Than Home by Wiley Cash and
• The Tie That Binds by Kent Haruf.

The first is in the mountains of western North Carolina, a remarkable story of faith lived and faith betrayed.

The second is on the plains of Colorado with a whole different set of images of land and inflection of language.

They both are books of their landscape while bringing us to perhaps see our own in new and deeper ways.

I find it amazing when the author is able to write in such a way as to allow me to hear the characters in their accent and not mine. They come alive in all their best- and worst.

As a writer, I can only marvel at the word- and world-making ability of these unique writers.

Ending Phase One

“Writing is 90 percent procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials.” —Paul Rudnick

One of the first goals I set for myself back when I went into semi-retirement was to get eight years of notes for a book out of the Moleskines and onto the computer. I started that while we were in Alabama in February and was surprised by some of the other thoughts and notes I discovered. I did not get sidetracked (much) and kept at it when I returned to winter in Minnesota last month. Even returning to full-time work didn't slow things down much at all.

Thursday evening, sitting at Caribou Coffee I finished the transcribing and reflections. At this point I have a little over 20,000 words of the memoir/book that I have been percolating for these past eight years. THAT surprised me. I hadn't realized how much I had already written and where some of it went.

But in good writing style, this first draft is everything Anne Lamott called it. It is a crappy, chaotic first draft. As first drafts often are. After all it was written in bits and pieces in journals with no rhyme or reason, just what happened to arrive in my consciousness at that point. Sure, it started with planning and doing my 60 miles for 60 years bike ride in 2008, but it went a number of other places in no particular order.

Now comes the next phase, figuring out what it all means and where it's going. I am aware of many inconsistencies, repetitions, and just plain awful writing. I have to get it in some kind of order, find the holes and work on discovering the threads that will tie it together and give it a direction.

Sounds like fun for the next months.

If only I can stay away from the other distractions I found that Paul Rudnick didn't mention.

Opening Up

Revelation often happens when our rational minds are muddled.
-Virginia Stem Owens, in Syllable of Water

Digging In

The writer must describe a world infused by God with meaning, a world undergirded by God's grace. For God is the one who gives us the insight and vision to make a work of art.

-Emilie Griffin from Syllable of Water: Twenty Writers of Faith Reflect On Their Art

The Best Reason

I am just finishing Why We Write edited by Meredith Maran. It is an an interesting compilation from 20 successful writers about their craft. As a writer I was interested in the thought processes that go into different people's writing and style. As is to be expected there is little consensus since each person has their own style. Several things struck me, though, and even resonate.

1. They can't NOT write.

2. They've known this for a long time, even before they became "writers."

3. There's no successful short-cut or one style that will produce success.

4. Writing is work. Work you love to do and have to do, but still work.

5. If you want to be a writer, you have to write. (See #1)

I agree with these in my own less than "acclaimed writer" place. I have 34 years of journals and journal-like notebooks from all kinds of times and places in my life. They speak of the mountains of northern Pennsylvania, walking the streets of New York with a friend, 30-days in rehab, mission trips in various places.

They also speak of the day-to-day reflections of my life. I have always felt compelled to write.

Now that I am in semi-retirement I am going to attempt to make writing a part of my Third Career. I have the time, no full-time day job to worry about. I am not sorry that it has taken this long. It takes many of us a long time to grow young. I have also needed to fill all those other compulsions of my life, like helping people, counseling, ministry, etc.

So, for the next six-weeks I am going to focus on one particular set of writing. For the past six years I have been percolating a memoir and it's time to go back to those pages and pages in my journals where the initial writings took place. I am excited- and scared- of the process ahead. I will keep posting these wanderings here, but it is time to do "full-time" what I have been doing for so long already.

The best reason is always #1- I can't NOT write.

Seeing Signs and Portents?

My local coffee shops have these big chalkboards (blackboards) where they ask people to write something. Thursday evening at one of the shops the question was "What's your New Year's Resolution?" I don't normally make resolutions but I felt led to put one there: "Write a book."

Yesterday I walked into another one of the shops and their question was "What is something different you would like to do in the new year?" I didn't write anything on this one. But there was something there that stood out to me as a sign or omen or portent. "Time travel!" was highlighted by someone.

I had to laugh. That does connect with the "write a book" I put on the other chalkboard. You see I have been playing around with a story idea for about a year now. It's not enough to be a book, but it is something I would really like to write and finish this next year.

It's a time travel story. Which is all I will say about it right now. However, I have a hunch I have just found one of the things I am going to be working on over the next couple months and see how it goes.

After all, one of the reasons I have moved to the part-time, semi-retirement approach to my life over the next months prior to actual retirement is that I have wanted to really concentrate on writing. I don't think I have the makings of a novel anywhere right now, but a short story or three? Why not?

Which will also give me the discipline to be working on a memoir and doing some non-fiction essay writing. Sure, I hope to get published, and I am working on some of the ways and places to do that. For the time being, though, I am just going to start writing.

As to the semi-retirement, I have been at it for over three weeks now. So far- so good. No new insights yet. I am still playing with the idea and emotion of "retirement." It is clear that this way of planning and leading into it was a good way of working it. I still have enough connections with the job I have been doing that I don't feel "out in the cold." I will be working a little more than half-time in January, but never having to get up early and go into work first thing in the morning.

Onward I go.

Coffee and Writing- Like Horse and Carriage

When you write in a coffee shop, 

you enjoy the coffee stains in your Moleskine journal!

From Sunday afternoon at Caribou Coffee.

A Thought from Behind the Keyboard

Some days you just want to crawl into a hole and pull it in after you. From depths of uncertainty comes the feeling that enough is enough.

Usually the thoughts pop up when things seem the least likely to make sense. You shake your head and wonder what the hell life is all about. No, not in a giving-up kind of way; just the confused way that keeps looking for answers and insights and direction.

Sometimes the answer is just not there. Sometimes the questions are simply the lack of control one feels over the environment, the politics, the world, other people and on... and on... and on.

I have discovered that when that happens I need to do something creative that is totally unrelated to anything I'm trying to figure out. At those moments I play my trumpet or dig out my journal and pen and get the physical pleasure of writing on paper. Or I sit here behind the keyboard having done some writing and editing on an upcoming post or article for Blogcritics.

Life drifts slowly back to the center. It doesn't seem quite the way it did before. Even though I haven't solved anything and all those things over which I have no power, influence or leverage are still there, they have lost their monstrous frame and look like just another day's journey through life.

For me that was this week's post-modern pilgrimage. In the middle was creativity, and music, and people I like being with. It keeps me mindful of what is important and not to sweat the small stuff- which is just about everything around me each day. In the great scheme of things, most things are small things.

Can't get much better than that.