A Risk Worth Taking

Sasha at 12 - Photo by Deborah Downes

By Kim,

As my daughter Sasha left ballet class a couple of weeks ago, an older dancer told her she needed to check the “to learn” list. The Nutcracker casting list had been posted, but since it was tacked to the senior company board, lowly apprentices like Sasha assumed that no one at their level would be named there.

Confused, she glanced at the list and saw “Bullock” listed as an understudy for Snow, a major routine performed by girls two levels ahead of her. Further down her name appeared again as an understudy for Waltz of the Flowers. And AGAIN for Chinese Tea, only that entry stated she gets to audition for the actual part. All of this was in addition to the two roles she had already been cast to perform.

Sasha thought there must be some mistake, but the artistic staff congratulated her. They had decided she was ready to be pushed beyond her official level.

At that moment it became apparent to our entire family that Sasha is being groomed to move up the company ranks and that her teachers, many of whom were professional dancers, see real potential in her.

After one night of elation, a new reality set in. Nutcracker season does not usually start until mid-October for younger dancers. For Sasha it started immediately with a rehearsal lasting until almost 10 PM. On a Tuesday. Thursday’s schedule was the same. Her entire Saturday became a tangle of classes and rehearsals. Overnight her hours in the studio jumped from an already grueling 10.5 hours a week to 20, and we all knew this schedule would intensify as performance time neared.

We also knew the insanity wouldn't end with the Nutcracker. She will likely be asked to learn more challenging roles for the rest of the dance season. She will almost certainly move up a level at her next audition, maybe even two by the end of the summer.

A recent example of Sasha's art

I ache as I watch my child struggle to keep up with the dance schedule, all Pre-AP homework, and the time-consuming assignments for her gifted art class. She has no life outside of these things, and she’s worn too thin to reach her full potential in any of them. She’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. We are ALL exhausted.

I also ache when I see her watching last year’s Nutcracker video to block out choreography at home. The only time she fully comes to life anymore is when she wears her beloved pointe shoes. Ballet has become a part of her soul over the last five years. Without it, she would flounder to find her way in a world that suddenly stopped making sense.

Exactly how I would feel without writing.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've questioned the moms of higher company members about how their children survive. A surprising number of them had the same solution. Find a school situation that adapts to their schedule. Virtual schools, home-schools, condensed-day schools—there are more options out there than I had ever imagined.

I was resistant to the idea at first, but one astute mom said something that especially resonated with me: “Our children are not typical teenagers. They’re focused, disciplined, and have the training schedule of Olympic athletes.”

If you told me a year ago that I would pull my daughter from a fantastic school and an art program in which she has exponentially grown, I would have scoffed. My husband would have scoffed even louder. But today we had a meeting with the director of a virtual public school and have decided to enroll her there for the remainder of 8^th grade. She can continue to develop her artistic skills with a private teacher. She can complete all her schoolwork before going to the studio. If she thrives under that system, and I suspect she will, we’ll let her continue. If not, we’ll reassess in the spring.

What does all this have to do with writing? Admittedly, not much on the surface. However, I recall thirteen years ago I took a big risk and left the corporate world to raise my children and write full time. If I hadn't done that I would have spent the rest of my life wondering if I could have made it as a writer. Not knowing would have been my greatest regret. If I can offer my child the same opportunity to follow her dreams without sacrificing the quality of her education I’ll consider it a risk worth taking.

What about you? Have you taken a great risk for your art? Have you been happy with that decision?

Art, photography and imagery

by Joan

Photo by Rick Mora

Once upon a time, I was an art major. Never mind that I have little artistic talent; I imagined myself in a seaside cottage with paintbrush, palette and canvas. That lasted for one semester, quick enough to realize I was in the wrong major, long enough to feel sophisticated about sketching live nudes. (I heard they made good money, but who were those models with the nerve to undress in front of thirty students, anyway?)

Although I gave up my dream of being a visual artist, my passion developed into a lifelong love of art and imagery. I am drawn to art on the page, to literature, to life revealed in my mind’s eye. 

Some of my favorite books feature artists, real or imagined: Susan Vreeland’s Passion of Artemisia, Rosamunde Pilcher’s Shell Seekers, Sarah Stonich’s Ice Chorus, Tracy Chevalier's Girl with the Pearl Earring, among many others (including Kim's).

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have visited many of the world’s greatest galleries. If you've ever tried to see the Metropolitan Museum of Art in one day, you know there’s never enough time to appreciate every painting. Often I felt that combination of gallery fatigue and guilt that author Tracy Chevalier describes in her wonderful TED talk: “Finding the story inside the painting.” (do yourself a favor and take 15 minutes to watch).

Photo by Rick Mora

You might not think Tracy Chevalier would get gallery fatigue. After all, she must have spent hours staring at Vermeer’s “Girl with the Pearl Earring” while writing her gorgeous novel. In fact she did. But just as we can’t read every book in a bookstore before choosing one, we can’t truly see and appreciate every painting in a gallery. “I pinpoint the ones that make me slow down,” Chevalier says. “I stand in front of that painting and I tell myself a story about it.”

Photo by Rick Mora

Paintings inspire stories, yes, but photography does as well. 

“Taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second,” said French photographer Marc Riboud.

Water reflections, Photo by Rick Mora

Saturday we visited the Botanical Gardens of Fort Worth. It was early for blooms, but the first day of a remarkable butterfly exhibit. In a hundredth of a second, Rick captured tiny wings that looked like they’d been drawn by an artist. He captured a moment with two ducks synchronize swimming and another with a heron jaw-wrestling a fish and swallowing it whole (not pictured).

In this lovely reflection of water, I see a story. I see a nun hiding (bottom right), perhaps holding a basket of coconuts or a baby. I see Father Winter blinking, or perhaps it's Saint Nicholas (mid-frame). In between those two, I see a zebra, or is it a white horse behind bars? There's a story waiting to be told. 

Eudora Welty said, "A good snapshot keeps a moment from running away." Snap an image that speaks to you and write it how you see it.

Q&A with Author Sarah Stonich

by Joan


Sarah Stonich’s first novel, These Granite Islands, became a Barnes & Noble “Discover Great New Writers” selection, a Book Sense 76 Top Ten Pick, and a “2001 Friends of American Writers” Best Novel. Her second book, The Ice Chorus, is one of my favorites. Maybe it’s the alternating backdrop of a scorching Mexican beach and the cool, stony cliffs of Ireland. Perhaps it’s the tragic love story shot through a lens shrouded in misinterpretation and family secrets. More likely it’s the tightly-woven plot and multi-layered characters.

Just in time for the paperback release, Sarah Stonich joins us for Q&A.

JOAN: The Ice Chorus enthralled me when I first read it three years ago, and now upon second read, even more so. What do you think makes a book both timeless and memorable?

SARAH: Compelling characters – more than the story, I remember the voices that touched me, upset me, amused, shocked, or in some way pulled enough emotion up to make me think of them a month later, or ten years later. I still think of A Tree Grows In Brooklyn and Francie Nolan, the character that inspired me to become a writer, or, the thief in The English Patient, etc. I think for any story to be timeless it needs to be evocative of place and time without being set down too hard with details such as street names or dates or factual references. It’s the story and people, and the sense of place.

JOAN: In addition to a strong sense of place, your books often feature themes of secrets and women conflicted between desire and responsibility. Do you think we all imagine our family to be full of secrets?

SARAH: Perhaps it is the nature of women to be conflicted between desire and responsibility – at least for many of my generation and those before us, raised to conduct our lives the way we should, not necessarily the way we would choose. I imagine most families do have secrets – some better kept than others (how would we know?!) If not secrets – at least stories that simply don’t get told. After a beloved aunt died recently, I discovered that as a field nurse in WWII, she’d been one of the first to staff a German hospital after liberation, treating freed Jewish prisoners right alongside injured German soldiers – all the while working closely with the surgeon she was falling in love with and would later marry. There’s a story – alas, no one thought to tell it…

JOAN: That’s definitely a book I’d read! I fell in love with Ireland through Maeve Binchy, captivated with its selkie lore through Regina McBride, and disheartened through Frank McCourt. How do you reconcile these different Irelands? Do you have plans to write another book set in Ireland? (Please say yes!)

SARAH: I miss Ireland, and I miss the characters I wrote in The Ice Chorus, particularly Remy and Siobhan, who very much represent the different Irelands I know. Ireland isn’t an easy place to be, but I feel more at home there than anywhere else. Like family, it has good and bad all mixed in. Will I write another book set there? Perhaps, yes…maybe… We all miss Frank McCourt – he was a tireless advocate for young writers, a real teacher, and avuncular in the best way. In a pub in the Aran Islands he told me that the title for These Granite Islands was a mistake. “It’s awful”, he said, “a dirge of a title” – he, of Angela’s Ashes. We had a good laugh over that.

JOAN: Any plans for either The Ice Chorus or These Granite Islands to be filmed? They both seem perfect for the big screen. Who would play Liselle in the movie if you got to choose?

SARAH: My first novel was considered, and then abandoned (twice) during bad times for the film industry. But now, The Ice Chorus will circulate to production houses, and These Granite Islands may again. Who to play Liselle? If Hollywood were my oyster I’d pick any of these three: Laura Linney, Marcia Gay Harden, or Emily Watson. I feel any of these women have depth, are authentic and easy to relate to. Rather than ooze sensuality, they seem to harbor theirs, carrying it more naturally, privately, as Liselle does - as a thing to be uncovered.

JOAN: Great choices. (Readers: Coincidentally, Emily Watson was in Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes.) I was encouraged to see you agree with the motto, “Write what you don’t know.” What advice can you give on making sure a story is authentic? Do you research before or during the actual writing?

SARAH: I research constantly, it’s one of the joys of being a writer, getting to delve into what subjects most interest me. I’m learning things now that I might use in a year or two, or maybe never. I researched hat-making and iron mining while writing These Granite Islands, and film-making for The Ice Chorus. I think a story reads authentically when the writer knows a lot about the subject, but only writes what is essential for the reader to build upon and construe in their own minds. The more you research, the more confidence you have in your subject, allowing you to say less. It’s always obvious when a writer has gone too far, making the reader feel lectured on a topic or bored by the minutia.

JOAN: Art plays a strong role in The Ice Chorus, and you weaved Charlie’s paintings of Liselle brilliantly with the climax. Did you research the craft of painting as you did with hat-making and film-making?

SARAH: I research most things, but I had first hand experience with painting - as a failed painter. There are two strong visual artists present in my work – Charlie, in The Ice Chorus and now Meg, in Vacationland. Through them, I have succeeded as a painter, albeit vicariously! Most of my characters are compelled to create in one way or another, and often their art or craft is essential to their character – in my unpublished novel, Love’s Tender Loins, the troubled protagonist, a Chicago housewife, emerges from her stasis by penning a rather bad romance novel. We need art.

JOAN: I enjoyed your book trailer. What’s involved in making one? Is that your voice?

SARAH: Thank You! I’ve turned to the Internet to market and promote, since traditional publicists do less these days, given shrinking budgets, and book tours are practically a thing of the past (and for good reason - they are mostly ineffective). A book trailer is a way to introduce a book to readers and to booksellers in a way they might not hear at a sales conference or in an ad or review. My computer-savvy husband put the thing together, and even wrote and played the music. The voice was supposed to be that of an Irish friend, but we couldn’t schedule, so yes, alas, that is my voice (doesn’t everyone hate their own?). We watched a lot of bad trailers on YouTube to learn what not to do – some were 5 minutes or longer, most didn’t describe the story in any compelling way. Surely they will evolve into a tool to sell a manuscript to an agent, a book to bookseller, or the story to a reader.

JOAN: When can we expect Vacationland and Shelter to hit the shelves? You’ve written mostly fiction. What inspired you to write Shelter, your memoir?

SARAH: I’ve just placed Vacationland with an agent, and since it’s short fiction it could take a bit, though I have renewed hope, since a similar book of stories, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, just won a Pulitzer. Shelter should be on the shelves in late autumn of ’10 by Borealis Books. Writing a memoir wouldn’t have occurred to me until I was inspired by my own questionable decision to hew out a writing retreat in raw wilderness. My grandparents immigrated to a small town near the Canadian border, and their experience is fictionalized in These Granite Islands, but now the name Stonich is fading from memory there, and so I returned. I was inspired by them, and by the ups and downs taking on this project, and how the ensuing experiences (and pratfalls) have provided endless, colourful, painful, hilarious material. In Shelter I wanted to emphasize the importance of “place” and how we often romanticize the concept. I also wanted to examine how we are affected or imprinted by our places, whether drawn to them, conflicted by them, or trapped in them.

JOAN: Fantastic news. We’ll look forward to reading both when they come out. What advice can you give an aspiring author in this strange and uncertain publishing market?

SARAH: Keep writing, keep your expectations of traditional publishing low and think outside the book – at least the book as we know it. Consider alternative publishing – zine, online, on-demand, writing cooperatives, etc... Consider publishing as much a creative process as the writing. That said, don’t lose sight that it’s the writing that matters, not the potential audience your writing might one day have – that will come, if the work is good enough.

JOAN: Do you have favorite books on writing?

SARAH: I’m a dyslexic high school drop-out – which more or less defines me as a writer who works intuitively and organically, and I’ve never read a book on writing. I learned to write by reading, paying close attention to the methods and techniques of authors I admire, then promptly endeavoring to forget their techniques so that I’m not over-influenced. I have a healthy fear of such books – afraid they might mess me up, or suggest that everything I’ve done so far is wrong.

JOAN: Tell me about your writing schedule now that summer is over. How do you manage the intrusion of the Internet?

SARAH: Since I work at home and my son is grown, the seasons and weekends all blur into one lump called time. My husband’s schedule actually structures mine – I work all day while he’s gone and when he comes home at 4pm it’s dismount! for both of us. Up until recently, I’ve made my living as a writer, but have found myself essentially unemployed. I’ve started a writing and editing service (wordstalkers.com). So, now I write fiction from 7am 11am. Then I do the business-business of writing. I rely on the Internet – but do not turn it on until my “real” writing is finished for the day. That one non-act (not pressing the Firefox button) takes much more discipline than sticking to a writing schedule.

JOAN: I noticed you’re writing in a new genre. As someone who is currently writing in two genres, how do you suggest approaching agents with two completed manuscripts?

SARAH: If the two manuscripts are both fiction, I would press forward with the one you want published first while making the agent aware you have another. My agent has more traction with publishers knowing he has two works of fiction to sell, Vacationland, and the next novel I’m planning, Fishing With RayAnne, for which I supply a synopsis and sample. Many publishers want a two-book deal (in case the first takes off) so it’s always good to show you have a follow-up book. As far as genres, nonfiction doesn’t always require an agent. After researching potential publishers I sold my memoir myself by submitting a chapter and a synopsis to the one house I thought was most suited to the work.

Thank you, Sarah, for sharing a bit of an author’s life with us.

Who's afraid of a genre change?

By Kim

A few years ago I had an informal chat with an agent about my current work in progress, which I had not yet started. She was intrigued by the story of Carl Ahrens, a pivotal yet often neglected painter from the early 20th century. After I admitted I’m Carl’s great-granddaughter, she leaned forward in her chair and asked about my sources of information on him. I replied that I have a stack of newspaper and magazine articles, obituaries from four different countries, exhibition catalogs, family photographs, works of art, correspondence with Canadian Prime Minister Mackenzie King, and about a dozen drafts of an unpublished memoir written by his wife, Madonna. “Why on earth would you write this as fiction?” she asked. “Narrative nonfiction is so much easier to sell.”

Having won a grant from Iowa State for a narrative nonfiction essay while in graduate school, I thought surely I could do it. Writing the book as nonfiction gave me an excuse to travel to places Carl had lived and I dove into researching the artists, actors, journalists, musicians and politicians he associated with. Knowing the importance of having a platform, I built and maintain a website where I feature his paintings, a short biography, journals of my research travels, and excerpts from my work in progress. Two of my articles on Carl have been published. One was the cover story for the Waterloo County Ontario Historical Society’s annual volume.

I soon began to question the wisdom of my genre choice, however. How do you tell the ‘truth’ when your sources all offer different versions of the ‘facts’? Many of the reporters who wrote articles on Carl were his friends; they pieced together stories he had told them over the years, exaggerating as they saw fit. Or, perhaps, the ‘faction’ came from Carl himself, as he was not above telling a few whoppers (he remained forty years old for about twelve years). Madonna, a newly converted Catholic at the time she wrote the memoir, had incentive to gloss over details the Church would frown on. She states her relationship with Carl was platonic until he left his first wife. Several other sources, including a rather suggestive poem written by Carl himself, make me question whether she just didn’t want to admit to having an affair with a married man at seventeen. Can I prove either version? Nope.

I began writing, ignoring the nagging feeling I violated some ethical code every time I included dialogue, and worked in every fact I could find to ease my guilt. The result was good though mildly strangled prose, and I was stuck at page 125. I knew that if I survived writing the whole book in that manner, I’d edit the thing to death because I’d never be satisfied enough to submit it. As agent Jessica Faust stated in her July 20th blog, ‘good enough is never enough.’ Good enough is all it would ever be as narrative nonfiction. Perfection required a leap of faith.

The first thing I had to face was that my book was not, in fact, a biography. Carl and Madonna were like the tree lovers he often painted; fused at the root, wrapped so tightly around each other that it’s impossible to tell the story of one without telling the story of the other. The book would have no soul if I separated them long enough to chronicle the first forty years of his life. Yet that’s exactly what my proposal said I was going to do.

So I started over.

I was writing ‘faction’ before and I’m still writing ‘faction,’ only now I can transform characters back into the flesh and blood people they once were. I don’t want to simply engage the reader during passages of intense restraint between Carl and Madonna. I want to make them physically ache. I want to give Carl’s first wife a voice and show a marriage shattering rather than demonize her just because the only information I can ‘prove’ is tainted by Carl’s hatred of her. I can now skim over the mundane bits of their lives and focus on the conflict. I stick with the facts when I have them and no longer lose sleep when I don’t.

The time I spent writing a nonfiction proposal and building my platform was far from a waste. I visited the Ojibwa reservation where Carl lived. Like Carl, I’ve now heard the native drums and the hypnotic sound of the Anishinabe language, smelled the sweet grass and sage. I’ve stood where Carl and Madonna met, felt the creative energy that still haunts the Roycroft campus. In just a couple of weeks I’ll once again stand in the studio where he created the paintings that hang on my wall.

Google Carl’s name and mine is linked with his on nearly every site. I’ve found over three hundred pieces of art and my website has caught the attention of collectors, art galleries, painters and curators. I’ve gained public speaking experience and been paid for it, learned the importance of networking, and made very close friends along the way.

The moral of this story is to go with your gut instinct when it comes to your writing. Just as we should not write for a trend, we also should not go for the “easier sell” if we must sacrifice the story to do so. After all, if we can’t believe fully in the product, it likely won’t sell anyway. If it does, we will always be disappointed that we settled for “good enough.”