Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 25
November 19, 2015
Trespassing on Einstein's Lawn
I'm currently reading Amanda Gefter's Trespassing on Einstein's Lawn: A father, a daughter, the meaning of nothing, and the beginning of everything.
First observation: Holy cow, book subtitles are getting LONG.
But, anyway. I had hoped it would be a readable, layperson-friendly discussion of the cosmological questions that interest me (where did the universe come from? how do we know? what is all this stuff that surrounds us--matter, dark energy, etc.?). So far, it has been just what I'd hoped, though I'm only a quarter of the way in. So far, Amanda Gefter is doing a great job at explaining some very difficult material. I'm understanding this stuff better than I ever have before. (Also, she's not afraid to throw in some funny remarks, which helps.)
These questions, these issues, have long interested me, but delving more than an inch deep into them requires one to tangle with physics, my least favorite of the sciences. In physics, things get weird: counterintuitive, complicated, difficult to imagine or even approach. We have to deal with all sorts of forces and objects we've never seen with our own eyes: quarks, gluons, and so forth. We are trying to understand everything, and nothing, and how everything came from nothing (or did it?).
It feels like a good time to grapple with such big, universal (in more ways than one) ideas.
First observation: Holy cow, book subtitles are getting LONG.
But, anyway. I had hoped it would be a readable, layperson-friendly discussion of the cosmological questions that interest me (where did the universe come from? how do we know? what is all this stuff that surrounds us--matter, dark energy, etc.?). So far, it has been just what I'd hoped, though I'm only a quarter of the way in. So far, Amanda Gefter is doing a great job at explaining some very difficult material. I'm understanding this stuff better than I ever have before. (Also, she's not afraid to throw in some funny remarks, which helps.)
These questions, these issues, have long interested me, but delving more than an inch deep into them requires one to tangle with physics, my least favorite of the sciences. In physics, things get weird: counterintuitive, complicated, difficult to imagine or even approach. We have to deal with all sorts of forces and objects we've never seen with our own eyes: quarks, gluons, and so forth. We are trying to understand everything, and nothing, and how everything came from nothing (or did it?).
It feels like a good time to grapple with such big, universal (in more ways than one) ideas.
November 15, 2015
Memoir workshop
Today I had the privilege of taking a memoir-writing workshop taught by Beth Kephart, author of Handling the Truth (among other books).
We wrote and listened and talked and laughed. The scenes we explored covered the spectrum from funny to sad, from joyous celebrations to unimaginable losses. Beth's own work is precisely rendered, every word chosen deliberately; her standards are high. Yet as a teacher she is generous and supportive, encouraging, seeking only to make room for each student to find his or her own voice.
It was a good day for the quiet, the listening, the attention to detail, that a writing workshop requires. Memoir is not just a turning inward, Beth says; it is also about paying attention to others, to the world around us. It's about using our own experiences to pursue larger themes. It's not about telling the reader what we've discovered, but letting the reader discover it with us. These are points about which I want to think more deeply; they can even apply to fiction.
Beth is also working to develop a "traveling workshop" on memoir; see here if interested.
We wrote and listened and talked and laughed. The scenes we explored covered the spectrum from funny to sad, from joyous celebrations to unimaginable losses. Beth's own work is precisely rendered, every word chosen deliberately; her standards are high. Yet as a teacher she is generous and supportive, encouraging, seeking only to make room for each student to find his or her own voice.
It was a good day for the quiet, the listening, the attention to detail, that a writing workshop requires. Memoir is not just a turning inward, Beth says; it is also about paying attention to others, to the world around us. It's about using our own experiences to pursue larger themes. It's not about telling the reader what we've discovered, but letting the reader discover it with us. These are points about which I want to think more deeply; they can even apply to fiction.
Beth is also working to develop a "traveling workshop" on memoir; see here if interested.
November 12, 2015
Holiday scenes
In fiction, holidays offer opportunities for both character and plot development.
I use a calendar as I write, to keep track of how many days have gone by in the characters' lives, when the weekends should come, when the seasons must change, etc. When I was writing The Secret Year, I realized at one point in the story that Thanksgiving was coming up. I'd already established that the main character had an older brother in college. It made sense that the brother would come home for Thanksgiving. The brother's visit enabled me to explore a character who had been, until then, offstage. I asked myself all sorts of questions: Who was he, how did he fit into the family, how did his story relate to the main character's? This new person in the story enabled us to see sides of all the other characters that we hadn't seen yet.
But the holiday itself, Thanksgiving, also played a role. In the US, we have expectations of Thanksgiving: an image of family and togetherness and bountiful food and special traditions. For many families, the reality doesn't always live up to the ideal, and in that difference between expectation and reality, there is room for a story to grow. There is also room for story in the mere fact that many people (who often know one another well, flaws and all, and who have strong emotions about one another) gather in a small space.
When you gather your characters' families together, add traditions and memories and hopes and histories, what do they say to one another?
I use a calendar as I write, to keep track of how many days have gone by in the characters' lives, when the weekends should come, when the seasons must change, etc. When I was writing The Secret Year, I realized at one point in the story that Thanksgiving was coming up. I'd already established that the main character had an older brother in college. It made sense that the brother would come home for Thanksgiving. The brother's visit enabled me to explore a character who had been, until then, offstage. I asked myself all sorts of questions: Who was he, how did he fit into the family, how did his story relate to the main character's? This new person in the story enabled us to see sides of all the other characters that we hadn't seen yet.
But the holiday itself, Thanksgiving, also played a role. In the US, we have expectations of Thanksgiving: an image of family and togetherness and bountiful food and special traditions. For many families, the reality doesn't always live up to the ideal, and in that difference between expectation and reality, there is room for a story to grow. There is also room for story in the mere fact that many people (who often know one another well, flaws and all, and who have strong emotions about one another) gather in a small space.
When you gather your characters' families together, add traditions and memories and hopes and histories, what do they say to one another?
November 10, 2015
Notes to myself
I think my brain is full.
I just found a note I wrote to myself yesterday, and I cannot figure out what it means. Often it only takes a few words to jog my memory, but sometimes it comes to this: I have absolutely no idea what my note means.
Either my notes to myself will have to start getting more elaborate, or I will have to accept the fact that most of these brain flashes that I simply HAVE to write down are not that great after all. Or else I'd remember them.
I guess I could use these cryptic phrases as writing prompts. I won't be writing about my original idea, but I'll be writing about something.
I just found a note I wrote to myself yesterday, and I cannot figure out what it means. Often it only takes a few words to jog my memory, but sometimes it comes to this: I have absolutely no idea what my note means.
Either my notes to myself will have to start getting more elaborate, or I will have to accept the fact that most of these brain flashes that I simply HAVE to write down are not that great after all. Or else I'd remember them.
I guess I could use these cryptic phrases as writing prompts. I won't be writing about my original idea, but I'll be writing about something.
November 8, 2015
Internal chatter around first drafts
This draft is not ...
good
like [fill-in-the-blank famous author's name]'s work
as good as [fill-in-the-blank awesome author's name]'s writing
particularly coherent
going anywhere
doing all the things it needs to do
complete
required to be good
anything more than a FIRST draft
meant to be judged so soon
set in cement; it will change many times, and could disappear altogether
anyone else's work, and so it will not sound like anyone else
going to be all things to all people
meant to be anything more than exploratory
I have said that being a writer requires patience and persistence. It also requires the ability to tolerate imperfection.
good
like [fill-in-the-blank famous author's name]'s work
as good as [fill-in-the-blank awesome author's name]'s writing
particularly coherent
going anywhere
doing all the things it needs to do
complete
required to be good
anything more than a FIRST draft
meant to be judged so soon
set in cement; it will change many times, and could disappear altogether
anyone else's work, and so it will not sound like anyone else
going to be all things to all people
meant to be anything more than exploratory
I have said that being a writer requires patience and persistence. It also requires the ability to tolerate imperfection.
November 5, 2015
Thankful Thursday: writer's edition
I'm honored to be featured on Jody Casella's blog today, talking about my latest book. A sample from the post: "I found that the most difficult part of being an author was not creating stories, difficult as that was. It was staying emotionally grounded. It was having the self-confidence to keep writing."
And I'm honored that this book is featured in the SCBWI Bulletin, courtesy of Cynthia (of the blog "Read is the New Black"), who reviewed Loner in the Garret.
It's especially nice because Loner in the Garret is about finding emotional support in this solitary pursuit called writing, and in the fickle business of publishing. This book was based on the kinds of encouraging messages I exchange with writer friends. I'm lucky to have this community.
Speaking of community: if you're anywhere near Haverford, PA, then stop by the Author/Illustrator Night at Children's Book World (17 Haverford Station Road) on Friday, November 6, at 8 PM. There will be more than two dozen writers and illustrators, mingling with readers in a friendly, relaxed atmosphere.
And I'm honored that this book is featured in the SCBWI Bulletin, courtesy of Cynthia (of the blog "Read is the New Black"), who reviewed Loner in the Garret.
It's especially nice because Loner in the Garret is about finding emotional support in this solitary pursuit called writing, and in the fickle business of publishing. This book was based on the kinds of encouraging messages I exchange with writer friends. I'm lucky to have this community.
Speaking of community: if you're anywhere near Haverford, PA, then stop by the Author/Illustrator Night at Children's Book World (17 Haverford Station Road) on Friday, November 6, at 8 PM. There will be more than two dozen writers and illustrators, mingling with readers in a friendly, relaxed atmosphere.
November 4, 2015
Routine and change
Routine is typically a writer's friend. It keeps us on track. Once we make the initial decisions about writing time and place and process, more of our mental energy is free to work on story. We don't have to start from scratch every day.
But habits can become stale. Creativity also needs fresh breezes, new ideas, new ways of thinking and seeing. Sometimes it's good to shake up a routine.
It can be as simple as moving the desk or changing the screen saver on the computer. It can involve changing the time of day, or switching from keyboard to handwritten composition. Or it can be a major change: of genre, voice, style.
When the comfortable groove becomes a rut, a change of routine is always an option. And if it doesn't work, we can always revert to the old ways.
But habits can become stale. Creativity also needs fresh breezes, new ideas, new ways of thinking and seeing. Sometimes it's good to shake up a routine.
It can be as simple as moving the desk or changing the screen saver on the computer. It can involve changing the time of day, or switching from keyboard to handwritten composition. Or it can be a major change: of genre, voice, style.
When the comfortable groove becomes a rut, a change of routine is always an option. And if it doesn't work, we can always revert to the old ways.
November 1, 2015
How I kicked off November
Today, many people started new novels, racing toward November 30 at the rate of about 1700 words a day.
I did not.
Today found me walking, exploring, enjoying the view. Ambling between a canal and a river, spying on a bald eagle, pointing out the orange and red of bittersweet to my hiking companion, savoring the flame of fall trees. Taking in the quaint shops and houses of a historic town, having a leisurely late lunch. Sun kept the clouds from being too gloomy; clouds kept the sun from glaring too hotly. Leaves crunched underfoot.
For me, it was the perfect Sunday. Maybe it will fuel future writing; maybe not.
And if you're one of those participating in National Novel Writing Month, have fun. Happy writing!
I did not.
Today found me walking, exploring, enjoying the view. Ambling between a canal and a river, spying on a bald eagle, pointing out the orange and red of bittersweet to my hiking companion, savoring the flame of fall trees. Taking in the quaint shops and houses of a historic town, having a leisurely late lunch. Sun kept the clouds from being too gloomy; clouds kept the sun from glaring too hotly. Leaves crunched underfoot.
For me, it was the perfect Sunday. Maybe it will fuel future writing; maybe not.
And if you're one of those participating in National Novel Writing Month, have fun. Happy writing!
October 25, 2015
Best of
Looking over the list of books I've read this year, I amused myself by thinking about which ones I would consider the "best" (a possible blog post). Some books were easy to pick. Others gave me pause. There were some that I admired, that were well written and/or important, that I'm glad I read, that I would advise others to read, but--I wouldn't say I enjoyed them. I don't long to reenter them, to savor their pages again. Then there are the ones I do want to reread, even though part of me knows they're a bit corny or predictable or flashy, or else they're so "quiet" or esoteric that I suspect their audience is small.
It's easy to call a book "good" if it's beautifully put together and I enjoy reading it. But what of the books that only meet one of those criteria? Not every book has to be everything at once--in fact, that's impossible. And I can't reduce book ratings to a number. On a scale of one to five, where do I put the book that was rollicking fun, but fluffy and insubstantial? The sober tome that made me think deeply, but was hard to get through? The elegant, thrilling, engrossing novel that delivered on all its promises until the last chapter, where its ending disappointed me? The quirky book that broke new stylistic ground but whose characters never really grabbed me? The wonderful book with the one problematic subplot? It doesn't help that my appreciation of a book can also vary according to when I read it.
This is why I rarely do "best-of" lists.
It's easy to call a book "good" if it's beautifully put together and I enjoy reading it. But what of the books that only meet one of those criteria? Not every book has to be everything at once--in fact, that's impossible. And I can't reduce book ratings to a number. On a scale of one to five, where do I put the book that was rollicking fun, but fluffy and insubstantial? The sober tome that made me think deeply, but was hard to get through? The elegant, thrilling, engrossing novel that delivered on all its promises until the last chapter, where its ending disappointed me? The quirky book that broke new stylistic ground but whose characters never really grabbed me? The wonderful book with the one problematic subplot? It doesn't help that my appreciation of a book can also vary according to when I read it.
This is why I rarely do "best-of" lists.
October 19, 2015
False starts
So many of my stories have false starts, brief attempts at beginnings. I think I know the way in to the story, and then I find out I'm wrong.
I tried to write Try Not to Breathe for years before I succeeded. I kept abandoning it and returning to it in between other projects. When I finally got the right characters and setting, I wrote in a subplot about neighbors that I eventually cut. I had gobs of plot that ended up as just brief hints of backstory.
When I think back on writing that book, I think of the time I got it right, and I tend to think of it as a fairly smooth drafting process. But the files of my drafts tell a different story. "Oh, yeah," I say to myself, remembering. "That's right, I had all these scenes in the center of town, the ones I cut."
Most of my other books are like that, too. They started at the wrong place or with the wrong character or at the wrong time. I hit a wall and went back and started over.
It's easy to forget the trickiness of this stage: circling a story, looking for the way in.
I tried to write Try Not to Breathe for years before I succeeded. I kept abandoning it and returning to it in between other projects. When I finally got the right characters and setting, I wrote in a subplot about neighbors that I eventually cut. I had gobs of plot that ended up as just brief hints of backstory.
When I think back on writing that book, I think of the time I got it right, and I tend to think of it as a fairly smooth drafting process. But the files of my drafts tell a different story. "Oh, yeah," I say to myself, remembering. "That's right, I had all these scenes in the center of town, the ones I cut."
Most of my other books are like that, too. They started at the wrong place or with the wrong character or at the wrong time. I hit a wall and went back and started over.
It's easy to forget the trickiness of this stage: circling a story, looking for the way in.
