November at What Women Write

By Julie

Hurricane Sandy seems to have turned everything upside down and inside out, even if you were watching from a distance. Here at What Women Write, we were only affected in tiny ways, but we send well wishes to any of our readers who have had to deal with flooding or power outages or simply the heartache of seeing beloved areas devastated by this frightening storm.

(Photo credit: Russell Stainer, whoever he is!
 Found on Facebook, thanks to Kim Bullock!)

I was near Ithaca, New York, earlier this week for a writing retreat and found myself sitting in airports for two days attempting to get out of the area ahead of the storm. The irony is I arrived home three hours before I originally intended to be home, but it felt a bit like two weeks as my fellow travelers and I watched the television screens--first, reports about the terrifying movement of the storm nearer and nearer the East Coast, then the horrifying coverage after Sandy struck. But in Ithaca, all was mostly calm, and we were mainly waiting on the airline industry to untie the knots created in the midst of the unknown. My problems were easy. The only positive thing I have to say for all the rest is about the hope I feel when I see photos and coverage of people pulling together to get stuff done in the midst of the last few days of a crazy election season.

Between my little adventure and upcoming travel preparation for Susan, we decided to use the law of averages and post here once today instead of once each Wednesday and Friday. We should be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week. And pardon the mish mash of topics, but my brain is telling me to talk about a few different things today.  

First of all, are any of you attempting NaNoWriMo this year? 

A little patch of sky through a
hole in a leaf, 

near Ithaca, NY. 

(photo copyright: Julie Kibler 2012)

In my usual fashion, I'm making up my own rules.

I hope/intend to write about 30,000 words on my new project. I'm also going against the grain of what I've been preaching for the last few years about outlining. Outlining worked spectacularly with Calling Me Home, from the very first, and I became an evangelist for the process. I assumed I'd be able to drop one right down on the page for the new book and follow it like a lovely little road map. But as usual, my muses are having the last laugh. I feel as if those sneaky Girls in the Basement are reminding me they're still in charge.

I feel as if I'm going to need to wander around a bit more in this new story before it truly gels. So, my 30K may not end up looking like any neat, linear 100-page chunk of story. It may be 30K words' worth of random monologues, random scenes, and maybe many things that never make it into the final draft. I'm listening to the Girls and trusting them to do it right. It's a little scary, I must admit. It's a reminder every single book will likely be a new, uncharted adventure.

Tell us, in the comments, what your goals and thoughts are, if you have decided to use NaNoWriMo as a jumping off point this November.

Stumps always make me think.
(Photo credit: Julie Kibler 2012)

Next. I'm having to embrace that writing retreats don't tend to be very productive for me, writing-wise. I know many other writers who manage to knock out huge chunks of new words on these getaways. I'm easily distracted, so it seems I really need my regular environment to write lots of words. I find that on retreats, I mostly putter around. I explore the building. I engage others in the kind of face-to-face conversations I can't have at home, as much as I love my chats online. I go outside and take a million photos of the tiniest details of geography new to me (or at least not seen very often from my suburban home). I eat vegetarian food for four solid days, and realize it's not so bad. I sample sips of new beers in my never-ending attempt to find one I actually like. (No luck, so far, except Lindeman's Lambic, which hardly qualifies as beer even if delicious.)

Leaves on Cayuga Lake. Of course I photoshopped it! :)

(photo copyright: Julie Kibler 2012)

Last week looked like that, though I had hoped to get a huge amount written. Add to that the worry during the last days about getting home ahead of the storm, and I'm not completely sure what I accomplished. But I think I'll eventually be able to admit comfortably and without guilt that I accomplished relaxing, relationship-building, brain-filling, new-food-and-drink-testing days of fun. I filled the tank back up. Which is also important. Perhaps I will be ready to do some serious work at our upcoming annual What Women Write retreat. Or perhaps I will do a little more puttering and filling up the tank. 

Now it's time to jump into my first Manic Writing Session for NaNoWriMo. What's going on with you?

Following Leaves

by Joan

My first manuscript was originally called Following Leaves. The title was meant to be a metaphor for the way we choose different paths, as though following leaves floating in various directions. (I mentioned it was my first, right?!) That manuscript morphed into The Cemetery Garden, but an underlying theme of the story remained: the consequences arising from choices made throughout one’s life. Here’s an excerpt (unedited since the original):

I looked out the window at a pile of leaves stirred up by a gust of wind. Each leaf floated through the air, separate and beautiful. One leaf, brilliant burgundy with orange markings, shaped like teardrops, fastened to the window and stuck there. Then it seemed to leap off the glass and blow away. I wanted to chase the leaf, follow its path to a new place, and forget about diaries and pain and death.

Oh, I was so proud of those lines. Luckily I’ve grown as a writer (and benefited from lots and lots of critique! As Kim says, “You’ve come a long way!”)

Five years ago I followed a path to Texas, after having lived only in Maryland. One of the many things I took for granted about the east coast was the autumn landscape. Broad brushstrokes of color over rolling hills, trees that reached the sky, and the smell of wood smoke and apples. Though the season is short in Texas, I’ve found a bit of autumn here.

At the retreat a few weeks ago, I collected leaves on a morning walk to the pier. Once home, I put my treasures in the annual retreat frame Susan gave each of us. Only after they were behind glass did I notice there were six, a distinct and colorful reminder of each of us, plus one, small and heart-shaped, as prized as a four-leaf clover (top right corner!).

Lately I’ve felt as though my leaves are scattered in all directions. In a few short weeks it’ll be winter and soon those leaves will float to the ground or settle under ice, and the trees will prepare for new blooms.

Today my husband and I took a long walk to enjoy the glorious sun and sky and high-sixties temps. The ground was covered in jewels. One here, one there, soon my hands held so many, I enlisted my husband to carry some. When I got home, I slowly twirled them in my fingers, noticing the fine, crackly lines and their fragility. One squeeze of my fist and they would be crunched to brittle pieces. I arranged them in a bowl, so I can hold autumn on my desk a little longer.