Subtle Differences… or maybe not so subtle

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

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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?

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

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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? 

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The Missing Bits

It’s not fair! I went on a personal writing retreat and while I was gone, all the lovely fall colours that had barely begun to emerge before I left, arrived and departed again.

In late October, for instance, the leaves of our ‘Bloodgood’ Japanese Maple tree were their usual deep burgundy. While my back was turned, they turned… and fell. All that glorious colour is now merely a blood red puddle on the ground. I missed the best part of the show.

While I was pushing to craft my draft novel for NaNoWriMo, I had no thought for what might be happening back in my garden at home.  When I returned, it was a shock to discover a gap between what was, and what now is.

And as I read over parts of my budding manuscript I recognize a familiar truth: there are gaps in my storytelling, too. While I know what happened, my readers are not being given the privilege of seeing those rich details for themselves. They’re still in my head. Mundane bits can be skipped over, but there are some happenings that should be captured in the narrative to add spectacular colour to the story.

I may be back from my offline writing retreat but I still have almost three weeks of NaNoWriMo writing to do. When December arrives I’ll be doing major revisions on the new story that’s currently obsessing me, and I’ll remember the bare trees and all those leaves on the ground. My revisions will include the addition of missing details and description.

(A click will enlarge for a closer look.)

What kind of details do you think readers want to see? What kind would they prefer to skip over?

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“If a writer knows enough about what he is writing about,
he may omit things that he knows.
The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to
only one ninth of it being above water.” 

Ernest Hemingway
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Seasons of life in transition

I wasn’t expecting it… not yet. The subtle sweetness that whispers the approach of fall caught me off guard yesterday. We’ve been away for the past four weeks, enjoying summer’s sunshine and heat. But as we travelled homeward I sensed a gentle shift. Verdant trees and bushes were tinged with copper and gold. Flowers still bloomed abundantly in the landscape, but against a changing backdrop.

The transition between summer and fall is subtle. Days are still summery while nights are edged in shivers and mornings arrive wet with dew.  The air smells different. Peeks of colour-stained foliage are hidden among blowzy late-season blossoms. Our focus is elsewhere until suddenly the new season can’t be denied.

I’m inclined to think transitions in life happen the same way. They tiptoe in between our everyday activities unnoticed until everything else strips away and bares them to our view.

Three years ago I had retired as a choir director; this fall I’m back at the task. Two years ago I found myself writing in a new genre; this year I seem to be writing in two different ones at the same time. When did the changes happen and what prompted them? I don’t recall. They just seem to have slipped in while I wasn’t paying attention.

I’m not normally a big fan of change, but I love autumn so will welcome its associated transformations. Some of the other changes may be a challenge, but I’m sure I’ll adapt. I always do.

Have there been changes in your life and/or writing, or are you currently in a transition period? How do you feel about change?

September’s Eve

In some time zones September has already arrived, but here there are still a few hours of August left.  The ‘blue moon’ is just beginning to peep over the crest of the hill, barely visible through the trees that whisper ebony sounds in the night.

I haven’t encountered one yet (thankfully!!!), but spiders are already about their pre-autumn business these days. They dangle from intricate webs across yellowing garden spaces and creep out (menacingly, I swear) from obscure hideaways in the house.

Our vacation weather has been superb, but there’s no denying the hint of fall in it now… with wisps of morning fog and a shivery edge to nighttime breezes.

On a recent afternoon at Moyie Lake this doe wandered into sight, nibbling and sipping her way along the creek while keeping an eye on her older fawn who obediently stayed in the bushes out of sight. (Others saw it; my camera and I didn’t.)

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.”

[Psalm 42:1, NIV]

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Life will change subtly when the calendar page turns over. We’ll experience the pull of old routines and new ventures, and begin feeling nostalgic about the impending loss of summer’s freedoms. What keeps us going when we’re not sure we’re ready to face a renewal of ‘the daily grind’? How do you feel about the arrival of September?

The doe reminded me that all I need is provided by the Creator of all.

As the deer panteth for the water
So my soul longeth after thee
You alone are my hearts desire
And I long to worship thee

You alone are my strength my shield
To You alone may my spirit yield
You alone are my hearts desire
And I long to worship thee

[Martin J. Nystrom]

[Click on composer's name to hear song.]

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Still Saturday: Complementary Opposites

“Complementary colors make a strange pair. They are opposite, yet they require each other. They incite each other to maximum vividness when together; and annihilate each other when mixed.”

[Johannes Itten]

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Scripture is full of opposites, and seemingly contradictory statements that teach us simple truths:

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

[Matthew 5:4-7]

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Linking with Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday:

Frozen Light

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“I am the light of the world.”

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[John 8:12]

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How exquisite your love, O God! …

You’re a fountain of cascading light,

and you open our eyes to light.

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[Psalm 36:7,9 - The Message]

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Blanshard Peak – 5,085 ft - part of the Golden Ears mountains of the Garibaldi Range

[Photo taken November 19, 2011 from Dewdney Trunk Road in Maple Ridge, BC]

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A Little Seasonal Meandering

Sharing another post from the archives.

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A friend of mine dreads autumn because it heralds the coming of winter, which she hates. To me that’s like not wanting summer to come because Thanksgiving will follow, or disliking spring rains because of the impending summer’s heat. At first glance it’s irrational. I do understand, however, that for this friend winter means more hours of darkness and nasty weather, both of which keep her housebound. So I shouldn’t belittle her dread.

While I’m not a winter sport enthusiast, living someplace where the weather is consistently warm doesn’t appeal much to me either. I love the diversity of our seasons. I’m not sure which is my favourite. In March I claim spring is — the season of discovery with all its new growth, vibrant greens, and the return of birds, bees and butterflies. By June I’m praising sun-soaked days in the garden and anticipating vacation time at the lake. September replaces summer’s laziness with a crisp edge of colour, energizing me into more ambitious pursuits. Then December arrives and amid the inconvenience of blustery weather there are cosy sweaters, fireside visits, the wonder of Christmas, silent snow-filled January skies. Winter’s a time to hunker down and plan ahead — plan for the coming springtime.

The orderly rotation of seasons gives a sense of permanence to life.

Today I think autumn is my favourite season.  I think I’ll go for a walk through our rain-washed woods to inhale the earthiness and admire all the turning leaves.  I’ll complain about raking them up later.

Which is your favourite season? And, just to be ornery, what DON’T you like about each season? Do you find it easier to settle down to your writing in one season better than in the others?

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“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” (Eccl.3:1)

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Imperfections in Life and Writing

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The autumn colours entice my camera and me out onto woodland paths where vine maples are showing off.

Returning to the back yard I check the lone tree that stretches toward the garden from within the woods. Its colours are changing, too, but I’m disappointed to find a brown blight that spots its leaves.

It has always been spindly, so often nodding in the shade with only a small section able to reach out to the sunlight. The rest of the trunk is perpetually shadowed by crowding evergreens, its roots covered by creek dampened and mouldering debris. Most years the leaves manage to remain clear, but not this year, and I wonder why. There is still a rustic beauty in the etched colours, but it’s blemished. I resolve to clear away the smotherings and try for a better result next year.

I wonder if God looks upon my life efforts, sees the blemishes and is disappointed in the the lack of loveliness in my seasons. Still… in all my imperfections I am one of his creations. Each new season is a fresh opportunity. Each day I can begin again.

There is a comparison in my writing as well — seasons when my well-intentioned writing has faltered and been less than stellar. I labour on to complete the draft, encouraged by the prospect of future revisions. I can make it better.

Renewal  ~  Repentance  ~  Revision

The ongoing cycle seeks to improve, reaching towards elusive perfection.

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Ten months of 2011 have passed. Do you notice things that you want to do differently ‘next time’?

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Keeping Our Facts Straight

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Although I’m not eager to encourage bears near the house, I love to watch birds. Unfortunately, attracting them with strategically located bird feeders has the side effect of also catching the attention of hungry bruins looking for tasty granola-style morsels, as I mentioned in a earlier post. We no longer keep the feeders out during the summer, but wait until hibernation time before refilling them.

Natural sources of food around here also appeal to both birds and bears. We have a row of blueberry bushes bordering the garden, but rarely get to enjoy the berries before they are stripped off. I sometimes wonder why we bother to keep the bushes, but when they burst into their autumn colours I remember why.

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Our garden wasn’t planted with wildlife in mind, but it still seems to provide a menu enjoyed by butterflies, birds and black bears. One tree, not on our property but in the neighbourhood, is often host to a number of varied thrush – a ‘Pink Pagoda’ mountain ash. They weren’t visiting when I snapped this shot, but I’m sure they’ll be back, and even without them the tree is glorious.

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As I worked through the revision of a novel scene, I was reminded that it helps to have knowledge of the local flora and fauna when including them in a story’s setting.  Author credibility is jeopardized when we place grizzly bears instead of black bears, or wild scarlet indian paintbrush flowers in the suburbs of a southern BC city. We’d better go back and do our homework if we think we can show a heavily spotted bobcat racing over deep snow on his large paws.

We may resent the constant admonitions to write what we know, but there’s no disputing we’d better have our facts right.

Did you know it’s the lynx that has large feet and can cope with deep snow, not the bobcat? What kind of localized details are important in your current w.i.p.? How do/did you research for their accuracy?

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