Dawn Reno Langley's Blog, page 10
September 24, 2012
Back into the thick of it . . .
I spent a weekend at the beach just recently and promised myself that I would take my laptop and work on my new novel. I did. I'm proud of myself, too.
Three chapters done and I'm now really connecting with the characters. I'm also thinking that while I have this working, I can do bits and pieces of the book about Izzy, which I'm really enjoying. Surprisingly, this has filled my time and made me less likely to be lonely.
Now, if I could just LIVE on the beach, I'd be a lot more prolific. As long as I didn't have an Internet connection. Boy, the addiction to email and Facebook is a powerful thing!
Three chapters done and I'm now really connecting with the characters. I'm also thinking that while I have this working, I can do bits and pieces of the book about Izzy, which I'm really enjoying. Surprisingly, this has filled my time and made me less likely to be lonely.
Now, if I could just LIVE on the beach, I'd be a lot more prolific. As long as I didn't have an Internet connection. Boy, the addiction to email and Facebook is a powerful thing!
August 13, 2012
Flurry of Ideas
I'm still working on the novel I mentioned back in April, but I've been interrupted by an unexpected move. I'm closer to work (a 5 minute commute rather than a 50 minute commute), have more space, and a yard and garden. It's a nice little bungalow built in 1921 and has great energy. Unfortunately, every time I move, I feel that I lose at least a month of writing time. I haven't STOPPED writing -- just have been doing theater reviews and a few blogs rather than the work on the novel. But I need to give myself a break: I've done the character sketches and am talking to a guy about doing the "other half" of the novel. I'd say more, but I don't want to give it away.
Am also thinking of doing a story about my new pup, Izzy, and his effect on my life.
Again, a flurry of ideas, and I'm not sure where they're all going to go, but if you gave me a couple of weeks in a beach house, I bet I'd come back with at least one book almost done . . .
Am also thinking of doing a story about my new pup, Izzy, and his effect on my life.
Again, a flurry of ideas, and I'm not sure where they're all going to go, but if you gave me a couple of weeks in a beach house, I bet I'd come back with at least one book almost done . . .
April 6, 2012
Shifts and Changes
Since my last post, I've been working on a new novel, but there's only one chapter done, so I hesitate talking about it. And while I'm letting that percolate, I'm writing theater reviews! I haven't done this since my first year in college and am enjoying it immensely. Nothing like getting free tickets to plays and then having the pleasure of writing how I feel about them. It's been like dipping my toe back into the creative nonfiction that comes like breathing to me.
On top of the reviews, I've been blogging about growing up as a boomer and the memories I have. Part of the reason I'm doing this is because I begged and pleaded and cajoled my mother to write down the stories of her life and she never did. Now that she's gone, I would give anything to have those stories of her life. I won't let my own life go by without writing about it -- whether anyone cares of not. So, if all my journals someday go up in flames or if they disintegrate with age, it won't matter, because something of mine will exist in the hinterlands of the Internet.
On another note, I'm reading more than I have in a while and truly enjoying being able to share some of what I like with others who are reading more (largely because of the advent of Kindles and Nooks and the like).
So as the winds blow, so do the shifts and changes in my writing/reading.
Peace.
On top of the reviews, I've been blogging about growing up as a boomer and the memories I have. Part of the reason I'm doing this is because I begged and pleaded and cajoled my mother to write down the stories of her life and she never did. Now that she's gone, I would give anything to have those stories of her life. I won't let my own life go by without writing about it -- whether anyone cares of not. So, if all my journals someday go up in flames or if they disintegrate with age, it won't matter, because something of mine will exist in the hinterlands of the Internet.
On another note, I'm reading more than I have in a while and truly enjoying being able to share some of what I like with others who are reading more (largely because of the advent of Kindles and Nooks and the like).
So as the winds blow, so do the shifts and changes in my writing/reading.
Peace.
December 23, 2011
Submitting Jack's Truck with fingers crossed
I attended the Algonkian Pitch Conference in NYC last week. What a fabulous time -- and one of the best conferences ever. The work we did was intense and incredibly helpful. Honed my pitch for Jack's Truck and delivered it to four different editors -- four have asked for the full manuscript, so I'm deep in looking at it with the proverbial editorial microscope so that I can send it off after the holidays. I can't believe that after working on this novel for ten years, I can still see it with fresh eyes. Stay tuned for the results of the editors "first lookie-see."
have a great holiday season!
have a great holiday season!
September 7, 2010
Rewriting, reading, trying to find a life
I've been trying to finish the rewrite of 'Jack's Truck,' which has meant adding scenes, changing the ending, and working the third-person narrative into first person. It's rejuvenating and invigorating, but it's also a bit frustrating because time does not necessarily come to me wrapped up in silver paper and tied in a pink bow. My mind wants to do so much and the hours just don't expand to allow me to accomplish what I really need to.
In the past couple of weeks, I've been editing pieces of my dissertation and sending the essays out to academic journals. That takes time away from the novel, but it's 'good time.'
I've also been reading other dissertations, which has been interesting. One, in particular, is about Arab feminists and the writers who have shaped that feminism. The author of the dissertation often mentions how Muslim/Islamic women are even more oppressed than any others in the world, and for feminism to rise out of that kind of existence is rather astonishing. The women take their very lives into their hands by pushing against the realities they face every day -- in their families, their society, their governments. To think of unveiling not only your face but your soul takes an incredible amount of courage. I'm impressed.
There are two other projects on my horizon, and I am looking forward to them. Just need more time :-)+
In the past couple of weeks, I've been editing pieces of my dissertation and sending the essays out to academic journals. That takes time away from the novel, but it's 'good time.'
I've also been reading other dissertations, which has been interesting. One, in particular, is about Arab feminists and the writers who have shaped that feminism. The author of the dissertation often mentions how Muslim/Islamic women are even more oppressed than any others in the world, and for feminism to rise out of that kind of existence is rather astonishing. The women take their very lives into their hands by pushing against the realities they face every day -- in their families, their society, their governments. To think of unveiling not only your face but your soul takes an incredible amount of courage. I'm impressed.
There are two other projects on my horizon, and I am looking forward to them. Just need more time :-)+
June 30, 2010
The economy and writing
I can't help but think about today's economy as I work on my novel ('Jack's Truck') that is set in the 1950s. As I write about my main character and her money woes, it feels odd to talk about just paying a few bills when we have so many more to just exist today. She pays rent, telephone, heat/electricity. We pay all of those plus cable to watch television (she loves TV but doesn't pay to watch it), Internet to spend countless hours surfing (no computers for her, thus no Internet), car payments and the insurance that goes along with it (her one vehicle for the whole family is paid for, and the insurance isn't necessary), health insurance (included in her husband's job and as his veteran's benefits), credit cards (she doesn't have any. Anything she buys is cash or layaway), clothes allowance (she has approximately 10 outfits and considers herself lucky to have those), and the food we buy . . . don't even get me started. We get at least a case of water a week (she would think that to be very odd), buy all of our drinks in plastic bottles, including juice (which she squeezes fresh), frozen meals for lunch (she calls them TV dinners and they're brand new to her -- and expensive) and those frozen meals go into the microwave ("microwave?"), and our salads are, for the most part, packaged ("lettuce in a package???"). Speaking of packages, everything we eat is packaged in some way. Have you tried to open a DVD or CD and stand there for almost fifteen minutes grappling with layer after layer? Why do they package something that costs less than $20 so well? Packaging to my character means that something comes in a bag (usually a paper one) or can (and she doesn't buy much other than canned vegetables).
Some people have asked why I set this story in 1957. Needless to say, there are a lot of differences between how we treated things (and each other) now and then. We also had different viewpoints on racism, government/politics, relationships, and the rest of the world. Too many reasons to count regarding why this story about a woman coming to terms with herself and the world around her should be set in a Boston suburb in the latter part of 1957 when the world is awed by Sputnik and a young JFK is feeling his oats in the Senate.
Some people have asked why I set this story in 1957. Needless to say, there are a lot of differences between how we treated things (and each other) now and then. We also had different viewpoints on racism, government/politics, relationships, and the rest of the world. Too many reasons to count regarding why this story about a woman coming to terms with herself and the world around her should be set in a Boston suburb in the latter part of 1957 when the world is awed by Sputnik and a young JFK is feeling his oats in the Senate.
April 8, 2010
Agent, anyone?
Here I go again. I've had a few agents throughout my career, but for the past eight or ten years, I've gone without, largely because I didn't need one to publish my nonfiction but also because I spent the past three and a half years working on my Ph.D. I'm happy to say that my dissertation is done and all that's left is to defend it, but the fact that it's done means it's time to get serious about publishing the novel that was such a big part of the dissertation. And that means searching for another agent.
Thankfully, things haven't changed much with regard to getting a package together to send out, writing a query letter, and making sure I target the right agents. The only thing that really has made me sit up and pay attention is that the agents are a whole lot younger than they used to be!
I have spent the past couple of days searching out agents of writers for whom I have a great deal of respect, then sending emails and letters to those who are on the top of my list. One has already said I could send the novel to her, which is great, but ethically, I feel that while she's reading it, I cannot contact anyone else. That might hold me up for another month to six weeks. Longer than that is not an option for me (and pretty inconsiderate, if I might say so).
In the meantime, I have contacted Algonquin (with fingers crossed). I can't remember a time when I did not have a yearning to be part of the Algonquin authors group. Perhaps I'm shooting for the stars, but that's okay. If I can't reach that particular universe, I'll settle down to something more reasonable. At this stage in my career, the money isn't as important as the prestige. I want to go out on a high in my writing a career.
And now that I don't have homework to occupy my time every night, lunch hour and weekend, I can attack the pile of books on my bedside stand. But I'm not ordering any new ones. Am looking at purchasing a Kindle to make my load lighter!
On another note, spring has come to North Carolina in the shape of fat robins, pink cherry blossoms, wandering roses and green shoots sticking up everywhere in my garden. Unfortunately, it's also brought the thickest yellow pollen I've seen in a while and I can't keep my car clean!
Thankfully, things haven't changed much with regard to getting a package together to send out, writing a query letter, and making sure I target the right agents. The only thing that really has made me sit up and pay attention is that the agents are a whole lot younger than they used to be!
I have spent the past couple of days searching out agents of writers for whom I have a great deal of respect, then sending emails and letters to those who are on the top of my list. One has already said I could send the novel to her, which is great, but ethically, I feel that while she's reading it, I cannot contact anyone else. That might hold me up for another month to six weeks. Longer than that is not an option for me (and pretty inconsiderate, if I might say so).
In the meantime, I have contacted Algonquin (with fingers crossed). I can't remember a time when I did not have a yearning to be part of the Algonquin authors group. Perhaps I'm shooting for the stars, but that's okay. If I can't reach that particular universe, I'll settle down to something more reasonable. At this stage in my career, the money isn't as important as the prestige. I want to go out on a high in my writing a career.
And now that I don't have homework to occupy my time every night, lunch hour and weekend, I can attack the pile of books on my bedside stand. But I'm not ordering any new ones. Am looking at purchasing a Kindle to make my load lighter!
On another note, spring has come to North Carolina in the shape of fat robins, pink cherry blossoms, wandering roses and green shoots sticking up everywhere in my garden. Unfortunately, it's also brought the thickest yellow pollen I've seen in a while and I can't keep my car clean!
February 15, 2010
On with life . . .
This winter has been perfect for people who want to stay inside and write (like me), but I must admit I'm tired of it and could stand some temps above 30 degrees. I didn't move to North Carolina to have to shovel snow! It's raining as I write this -- cold, wintry rain that makes you shiver just to look at its gray tentacles. The trees are bare, there's a sliver of snow still left on the ground, and the rain is moving sideways. It probably hurts when it hits your face. Every once in a while, this type of weather is good. Makes you stay at home beside the fire, either creating some writing or reading some. Now that my novel is done and the dissertation is awaiting the okay from my committee, I want nothing more than to breathe and to read and, more than anything else, to go outside and take a walk. But not in this weather.
Writing about the cold rain makes me remember an essay I once read by Virginia Woolf. No one can make me feel the dreariness of days like these (London days) more than Woolf. She wrote in the essay about needing a pencil to write and about the trip she took through London streets to find that writer's pencil. Every storefront she passed held a story for her. Every face was a chapter in that story. Even while she walked to get that pencil, she was writing all the while. Beautiful writing. Razorblade sharp writing. Writing that slices to the heart of perception and understanding more than any other.
On days like this, I pray for Woolf's spirit and brilliance.
Writing about the cold rain makes me remember an essay I once read by Virginia Woolf. No one can make me feel the dreariness of days like these (London days) more than Woolf. She wrote in the essay about needing a pencil to write and about the trip she took through London streets to find that writer's pencil. Every storefront she passed held a story for her. Every face was a chapter in that story. Even while she walked to get that pencil, she was writing all the while. Beautiful writing. Razorblade sharp writing. Writing that slices to the heart of perception and understanding more than any other.
On days like this, I pray for Woolf's spirit and brilliance.
November 19, 2009
the process of writing
I'm almost finished with the first draft of my new novel (that's also part of my dissertation), and I've been thinking a lot about the process of writing this book.
I usually create a general outline for the idea I have, then I build the characters. Sometimes I know all the details of their lives, while at other times, I know a general framework that I fill in later. Once I build the characters, I can ascertain how they will interact with others, and there's where the story lies.
With this novel that I'm finishing now, the main character appears to be part of the "pack," but without him, the story sputters and dies, which is what makes him a figural point in the plot line. I have watched him unfold, but what is even more interesting is how the other characters (particularly the narrator of this book, a psychologist) have "taken over." Though the characters we create are figments of our imagination, they very often take on a life that is not one we planned for them, and sometimes they are insistent that the book be written their way rather than the way you, the author, originally planned.
More on this in the next couple of days . . .
I usually create a general outline for the idea I have, then I build the characters. Sometimes I know all the details of their lives, while at other times, I know a general framework that I fill in later. Once I build the characters, I can ascertain how they will interact with others, and there's where the story lies.
With this novel that I'm finishing now, the main character appears to be part of the "pack," but without him, the story sputters and dies, which is what makes him a figural point in the plot line. I have watched him unfold, but what is even more interesting is how the other characters (particularly the narrator of this book, a psychologist) have "taken over." Though the characters we create are figments of our imagination, they very often take on a life that is not one we planned for them, and sometimes they are insistent that the book be written their way rather than the way you, the author, originally planned.
More on this in the next couple of days . . .
October 25, 2009
writing on deadline
The novel for my dissertation (Analyzing the Prescotts) is moving along, albeit slower than I really want it to... My deadline is the end of the year (self-imposed), but I really would like to finish it before Christmas. Once this draft is done and goes on to my committee (to join the first half, which is my critical thesis), I'll be able to feel like I have a life again. Of course, that doesn't mean the writing is done! Not by a long shot. But at least I'll have the basic bones of the book done, and when I get it back with feedback from my committee, I can reshape it into something I can send to publishers.
And once that's done, I'll turn my attention back to my previous novel (Jack's Truck) that I have yet to finish (did one draft, then totally changed perspective, which changed the story, and well, you know the drill. The rewrite is basically making it a completely different story).
Back to my writing!
And once that's done, I'll turn my attention back to my previous novel (Jack's Truck) that I have yet to finish (did one draft, then totally changed perspective, which changed the story, and well, you know the drill. The rewrite is basically making it a completely different story).
Back to my writing!
