Patience and Endurance…

The Coquihalla Highway was closed Monday due to a major snowfall. As we travelled homeward on Tuesday — the last day of April — a lot of the snow had disappeared, but it certainly didn’t resemble spring. The above verses of Romans (8:25 and 5:4) seemed particularly appropriate. There’s no rushing springtime. We just have to endure and be patient.

Writers know all about endurance and patience so this should be a cinch. In her guest post on Seekerville yesterday Connie Mann talked about endurance and why it’s too soon to give up.

“’Almost there’ is a tough, dry place to try to keep your bearings and stay focused,” Connie said. “It is lonely and frustrating and the doubt gremlins work overtime, whispering horrible things in your ear, day after month after year. The temptation to quit rears its ugly head, making even the most confident writer question the dream. If this is where you are today, let me encourage you. This particular wilderness, this season, won’t last forever, but it is often another stop, another way the Great Creator toughens our resolve for the rest of the journey.”

My plans for May are to write and to garden. I have control over the former, but not the latter if the weather doesn’t cooperate. Then again, if it doesn’t, I’ll be more inclined to stay inside and spend more time writing, so I suppose it’s all good. It’ll help me persevere.

Welcome, May! On your way in please collect spring somewhere and deposit it here, too.

~  ~  ~

Springtime is an oxymoron

Leanne Shirtliffe is guest posting at Writer Unboxed today. Her topic is ‘Funny Oxymorons for Writers‘ and if you haven’t read it, you should. After I’d digested her definitions of ‘finished draft’, ‘aspiring writer’ and ‘mild heart attack’ I realized how many other oxymorons we live with. ‘Organized chaos’ is a regular for me, but ‘active retirement’ and ‘baggy tights’ are equally appropriate.

My cyber friends across Canada and the USA have repeatedly mentioned winter’s persistent intrusion into their springtime. Joylene Butler celebrated the ice finally departing from her lake while remembering that only two weeks ago nasty weather gremlins dumped 18″ of fresh snow on her.  Friends from Alberta have left for Mexico to escape the confused weather patterns at home. Spring is supposed to be a time of beginning again, with new growth, daffodils and cherry blossoms, but in some places it doesn’t seem to understand that.

I was away on the weekend, visiting family in the Okanagan, and of course had my camera in hand. Scenery flashed by (it always does at 100 k/hr on the highway) and I snatched photos that began with the rich greens of coastal BC’s developing spring season, moved to include passing snowcapped mountains, and finished with the interior’s barely budding branches.

I’ve decided this year ‘springtime’ is an oxymoron.

~

A little madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown Who ponders this tremendous scene — This whole Experiment of Green — As if it were his own! [Emily Dickinson]

~  ~  ~

Seeing despite the fog

 ”Miracles come in moments. Be ready and willing.”

Wayne Dyer

Friday’s drive in the fog reminded me of the scripture verse, “For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face.”* Nothing was clear as fog muted everything in a blanket of grey.

I almost missed it!

And then… ah, then, moments later, not “through a glass darkly”, but in a “face to face” reality… there on the grass right beside us at the edge of the road, a second Great Blue Heron, hunched and still, hoping for lunch to appear in the murky waters of the rural waterway.

Herons are non-migratory here in the Pacific Northwest, and are classified as a species at risk in BC. There are large heronries in the University of British Columbia and Stanley Park areas of the Lower Mainland. A few visit our marsh from time to time, but I’ve never managed to get a good shot of one. This time we pulled to a stop and sat quietly in the van while I snapped several through the open window. I won’t bore you with all of them, but surely I can be excused for a few more…

Herons will stand motionless in icy water or overgrown fields for long periods, waiting, watching, prepared to strike when the opportunity finally comes. The long neck unfolds with lightening speed at precisely the right moment to snatch up an unsuspecting meal.

I was prepared, too. I wasn’t watching for anything specific, but I was watching. Certainly, I didn’t anticipate seeing a heron. But my camera was on the seat beside me, ready for a quick grab to capture anything of interest.

“One secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes.”

Benjamin Disraeli

Of course there’s a writing application here, too, but I don’t think I have to spell it out, do I?

Have you encountered any surprises lately that have found their way into your writing?

*  I Corinthians 13:12

~  ~  ~

Monday Morning

I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day,
a fresh try, one more start,
with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.

J. B. Priestley

Dawn on the Fraser River

 

This is the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

.

In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.

Psalm 5:3

~  ~  ~

Subtle Differences… or maybe not so subtle

Earlier this month on the way into our cabin I took this photo:

.

On the way out a week later I took this one:

Same horse, same general location, but the weather had changed. Who would have thought a few snowflakes could alter the mood of a scene so drastically?

The same thing happens with point of view in our novel writing. There is a subtle change — or maybe it’s not so subtle — when a scene is viewed through different eyes or in different conditions. If you have a ho-hum scene, consider changing the perspective and see if that brings the scene to life.

Do you have an essential scene in your writing (or perhaps in a photograph) that lacks punch? What might you do to make a difference?

.

~

(A click or two will enlarge any photo for a closer look)

~  ~  ~

.

How do you describe the bite of winter’s chill?

You’ve undoubtedly heard of iced tea and iced coffee, but how about iced juniper? Freezing rain preceded us on a recent trip and we discovered iced everything when we stopped in Cache Creek to fuel the truck. The sidewalks were slick, plants and branches shimmered, and the sky moped silver grey.

(A click or two will enlarge to view detail)

Boy, was I cold! Even with my fleece jacket zipped and hoodie tugged tightly over my ears, I still shivered. I read somewhere that shivering, or the twitching of muscles, is a physiologic method of heat production. Who knew??? It didn’t seem to help much that day, but I suppose my body realized I wasn’t in any danger of approaching hypothermia.

Back in the truck I flipped the switch to activate our heated seats (I know, I know… it’s a ridiculous luxury, but it was a feature already installed when we bought the truck second-hand) and then spun the heater’s dial to high. As I waited for my hubby to join me, I thought about one of the characters in my novel who relocated from a balmy city to the winter-chilled north country. In an effort to ‘show not tell’, there are numerous scenes where I need to display how he copes with frigid temperatures. How many ways can you indicate a person is very cold?

That’s a good question for today. Are any of your characters ever in the position of being uncomfortably or dangerously cold? What ways do you (or could you) choose to show, not tell, how they react? 

~  ~  ~

Fall Changes Everything

Autumn brings changes, some of which we embrace, while others… uh, not so much. The weather is always one of the latter. Grey skies. Rain. Fog. Dark mornings. This fall a couple catastrophic events are being thrown into the mix.

The west coast of Canada experienced a magnitude 7.7 earthquake Saturday night… a big one, although miles deep and remote enough that no significant damage was done. But the newscasts are filled with interviews, information and warnings about being prepared for what might yet come.

At the same time, the eastern seaboard is bracing for the arrival of Hurricane Sandy. It’s a nasty one, likely to affect 60,000,000 Americans before it crosses into Canada on Tuesday.

Amid the beauty of fall’s changing colours, good weather and bad come and go. Even when the sun shines, fall still heralds its downward turn by flinging leaves to the ground where they’ll wait to be buried in the annual coffin of ice and snow.

I love early fall with its bronzing of trees and shrubs and crisp, bright days. But I’m not ready to face the next phase — the not-quite-winter-but-it’s-coming days of

muddied wet dog,
dead and rotting garden perennials,
and sodden everything.

Boots and rain jackets,
and bare trees
dripping drops down my neck.

The end of October is a time of desperation and I’m going to put off its changes as long as possible. Maybe now would be a good time to gather up summer’s photos and do some scrapbooking. It’s that, or start planning for my Christmas cards… and I refuse to embark on anything related to Christmas before Halloween is even over. Besides, it’s much too early to think Christmas, isn’t it? Tell me it is! Please! It’s still autumn.

Maybe I could delve into NaNoWriMo preparations — some outlining, perhaps. Not that I’ve ever been much of a story plotter, but there are all those “thirty days and nights of literary abandon” coming up very soon. I’m not sure why I put myself through this every year, but I’m registered again. How about you?

What does the end of October mean to you? Are you a seasonal optimist, or one of the gloom-and-doom types?

~  ~  ~

Writing Thoughts from the Garden

Rain is beginning to fall. Tentative drops spattering the dust of dry weeks. Happy splashes ready to refill the water garden on the deck. After eighty days without measurable precipitation the moisture is welcome.

Our water comes from a well, and I seldom waste much of it on the gardens. Without rain thirsty annuals die and perennials wilt into early hibernation, although the shrubs and trees survive remarkably well.

You’d think the gardens would become uninteresting with the demise of flowers, but they’re still vibrant thanks to a variety of leaf colours and textures.

Landscapers recommend planning for year-round interest when designing gardens. I wonder what they’d say if I admitted my main criteria is low maintenance.

I enjoyed designing and planting our various garden beds even if they don’t have a professionally landscaped look. They’ve evolved over the last fifteen years and reflect my low-key, relaxed lifestyle preferences. If something doesn’t look right or grow well in one location, I may dig it out and plant it somewhere else (or just toss it). Because we live rurally and our property is hemmed in by surrounding woodland, wild things frequently pop up where they don’t belong — most often ferns, salal, and evergreen seedlings. Sometimes I pull them out; sometimes I let them stay. If a plant can’t handle neglect? Oh, well. Obviously I prefer the planning and planting to any ongoing maintenance.

Do you see where I’m going with this? When I compare my gardens with my writing style I find many similarities. Novels get lots of basic planning, although I’m not a plotter by nature. I love putting the stories together, getting the plot off to a good start with a setting that provides good background colour, and characters that add complex texture; making sure there’s an interesting middle and satisfying ending to sustain reader interest all the way through. I include the contrast of tension and conflict but I don’t use a lot of splashy literary artifice and devices. If the story has good bones it will stand on its own. When it comes to evaluation and revision I don’t hesitate to move or cut out anything that doesn’t work well.

This isn’t meant to be an analogy. But if I consider my gardening attitudes I think I better understand the kind of writer I am.

How about you? What influences the way you write?

~

Surrounded by Changes

Changes are happening. We expect them at this time of year — leaves turning colour and drifting to the ground, blossom heads crumpling and wild grasses flattening into gold and brown. Despite the exceptional sunshine and continuing daytime warmth, we’re beginning to turn up thermostats against the chill of evenings and hunt our favourite sweaters from the back of closets.

Even as changes herald the death of a season, unique beauty lingers. With its ending also comes hope — seed pods and reminders of what will come again. Hope stands out against a fading backdrop, holding up its promise. It has me pondering a comparison with my writing.

Voice is what makes one person’s writing stand out from another’s. There is a distinctive ‘something’ that identifies us with our words. My unique voice is stronger in my non-fiction than in my fiction, and yet it’s the writing of fiction that brings me so much satisfaction. I love creating characters, plopping them into difficult situations and helping them slog through to find solutions. But if there is nothing exceptional about the stories, should I be wasting my time on them? Wouldn’t my energy be better spent writing in the zone where my ability appears to be stronger? Do I need a shove to get moving in another direction?

Or am I simply reflecting the decline around me… perhaps in need of a time of dormancy, to sit out this cycle and rebuild strength for a fresh approach?

I’ll get over this mood, but I’m sure the questions will remain. How do you know when you are where you’re meant to be?

~

“Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change - this is the rhythm of living.
Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope.
And out of hope, progress.”

Bruce Barton

.

“For as long as Earth lasts,
planting and harvest, cold and heat,
Summer and winter, day and night
will never stop.”

Genesis 8:22 (The Message)

~  ~  ~

Getting Ready, Preparation, Organization — Whatever you want to call it

The mist drifting in this morning, this moisture darkening the deck wood and dampening the chair fabrics, isn’t rain. It’s dense fog. We’ve had weeks – months! – of sunshine. It can’t rain now. Our church corn roast is tomorrow.

I’m never ready for autumn… never ready to give up summer’s easy living and lack of schedules, but it comes anyway, officially arriving here tomorrow. The seasons are relentless in their march through the calendar year. I enjoy them all, but am always reluctant to face the changeover. I never quite feel prepared.

On our end-of-vacation drive home last week, I saw fields of grain harvested and bundled for winter storage, seed pods developing, leaves changing colour. The world around me knows it’s time to get into gear for autumn.

When there’s something to look forward to, it’s easier to let go and move on. The Surrey International Writers’ Conference is exactly one month away. Eeeeep!! I’ve been registered since five minutes after registration opened in June, booked my hotel room the same day, and sent off entries for the writing contest before the deadline (altho’ not by much, I admit). I should feel organized, but now time is pressuring me to polish my current novel, create a one-sheet for its presentation and perfect a pitch. (Not to mention figure out something to wear for the gala’s ‘Roaring Twenties’ theme.) Is it an OCD thing to need to complete every single task in order to feel adequately prepared for the Conference?

When I taught elementary school I discovered that if my lesson plans were well prepared and I felt ready before the morning bell sounded, my day went smoothly. I was calm, the children were calm (most of the time), and I usually accomplished the day’s goals. If I started the morning unprepared and frazzled, it affected my entire day.

It carries over into my writing, too. When my office is cluttered and disorganized (as it often is), or life is crazy, I can’t get my head into a creative groove. Thoughts slither around and slide away like drops of mercury on a wobbly desk. (I guess that dates me, doesn’t it? Who allows children to play with mercury during science labs anymore?)

So, I guess if I’m going to really enjoy that Conference and get the most out of it, I’d better accept that fall is underway and there’s work to be done around here!

Do you function best under pressure, or do you need to have all the pieces in place before you can accomplish anything?

(Oh, and happy first weekend of autumn!)

~

 Update: I’m happy to report that it did not rain for our corn roast! (Yes, I’m smiling.)

~  ~  ~