You Can Go Home Again— Virtually

I got sucked into the parallel universe of Google this morning, which is way too easy to do. I’m working on The Los Alamos Years, a sequel to The Albuquerque Years, and wanted to check the elevation of Walnut Street relative to Villa Street on the other side of the mesa top our house stood on. Google Earth answered that, but then another question arose about where someone else’s house was, and that led me into GoogleMaps, and that led me to Street View, and I ended up virtually walking home from high school. The virtual walk went a little bit faster than the actual one would, but not much, by the time I swung around to look at things, and eventually made it “home.”

During the time I lived in Los Alamos, we always lived on Walnut Street, but we lived in two different houses. I have been back in person, but not since 2000, and I’d vowed not to go again, because it was too heart-breaking to see seared mountainsides where a lush ponderosa and aspen covered panorama towered above the town, before the devastating Cerro Grande fire in 2000. Today I had a chance to view those stark slopes in a fresh light. They are skinhead mountains now. They look like they survived chemo, but survive they have, and they exude strength. Their contours are clean and far more dramatic than they ever were when covered with flora. I can bear to look. I respect their strength and tenacity at the same time I grieve for the ignorance that devastated yet another portion of the planet.

Getting my virtual feet back in gear, I hit the corner of Walnut Street and 32nd and visually slammed into the second house we lived in. I already knew about the bizarre alterations that were made more than twenty years ago. Someone added a third level to the house, and did not tie it in well. They have now removed the doorway that opened into space, nearly twenty feet above the ground, but the chimney still tops out several feet below the roof, with a pipe stuck in the top to extend it. Oh, what a mess! I didn’t dawdle there.

Our first house, a long block down the street, still looks good, as you can see from this screen shot I grabbed. That huge tree on the left was not there, nor were the trees on the right end. The windows are new; originally all but the living room windows had panels on each end that opened with a crank gizmo. Otherwise, it looks the same. It is a duplex, and from my seventh birthday until I was twelve we lived in the right end. My sister and I sledded down that hill. We walked our bikes up and down that hill. I slid down the railing by those seventeen stairs.

That’s my bedroom window on the right center, second floor. Mine and my sister’s, until our brother arrived and we were moved to the back right corner. I liked that better. I could climb out the window on the end and hang out on the roof of the back porch. Not that there was anything to do there, but I liked being able to do it. Seeing that house brings back way more memories, and I need to get back to my writing.

Yes, it is satisfying to take a look and see how much some things have changed and how little others have. Why not take a virtual trip of your own? The price is right!

Write now: spend half and hour on GoogleEarth or GoogleMaps. Wander around an old neighborhood with StreetView if it’s available and check things out. Write about what you see, how it’s the same, how it’s different, and what you remember.

Happy Valentine's Day to YOU!

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Blog readers are sweet,
They keep my words new.

On this Valentine’s Day I send a special greeting to each and every reader, and a huge message of gratitude for all your inspiring and thought-provoking comments.

I’ve often said that I write primarily for myself, because I love to write, and in a sense that’s true. My thoughts take shape as I write. I discover new ideas, new perspectives, and the world takes on fresh shapes and colors as it filters through my fingers.

But, the longer I write, and especially the longer I write for this blog, the more reward I discover in interaction with readers. Dear Blog Readers, life would not be the same without you. I cherish you. I treasure you. So I send you this Valentine, made especially with my very own pixels, just for you. It is torn from the silken fabric of my heart, to speak directly to yours.

Thank you for making my life richer by being here. And please, keep those comments coming. They are unbelievably precious.

Write now: should you feel so inspired, besides writing a few love stories to and about the people dear to you, perhaps you’ll find a few moments later today or tomorrow to write about love in general and what it means to you. Write about how your concept of love has developed through the years. Write about how love has become richer and more meaningful. Write about love of God, love of country, love of family and fellow man. And above all, write about love of self and love of writing!

Story Midwives

Some stories get stuck halfway out. Or they may not get out at all. We feel them stirring within, writhing and turning, kicking to get out, but the harder we try, the harder we push, the more tightly they stick in their spot.

I’d be terminally discouraged if I kept track of all the blog posts I’ve begun and eventually deleted because they just didn’t work. More often I am able to finish them, but only with considerable rewriting, rephrasing, and perhaps a few days of fermentation.

Sometimes when I’m stuck, it’s enough to sit back, breath deeply and ask myself, Just what is it that I’m trying to say? What do I want people to understand when I’m done? What is my purpose in writing this? These questions usually serve to pop things into focus.

The next level of action involves calling or e-mailing a friend, or consulting my resident idea-bouncing partner, aka Hubby. He’s especially good at extracting the kernel of meaning from my ramblings, and getting me back on track.

The most powerful tool of all is a writing group. My writing group will listen with great tenderness as I read awkward words, or struggle with a half-formed idea that just doesn’t want to emerge. They are patient and respectful and withhold suggestions until I’m ready to hear them, then I’m never surprised to hear one of them blurt out some seemingly unrelated nonsense that jolts everything into perfect focus and allows the story to flow unimpeded out of the darkness.

I call these helpers Story Midwives. The story that emerges is still fully mine, but they help bring it into the world, robust, thriving and fully formed.

You can find Story Midwives in writers groups, and you’ll also find them in classes and workshops. Many communities have lifestory and other creative writing classes available in continuing ed programs, and there lots more online, such as the NAMW writing workshops. A quick websearch will turn up other online classes and workshops.

Classes do way more than just function as midwives. The exchange of ideas and viewpoints in a good class weaves the wisdom of each person in the room into something larger than the sum of the parts and everyone leaves richer for the experience.

Write now: make a list of your writing buddies, real-time or virtual, and find a few new ones. Join a writing group. Take a class. Reach out and expand your writing horizons.

Happy Anniversary Dear Blog

Today marks the third anniversary of this blog, an event that calls for celebration.

I began the blog for the specific purpose of promoting The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, which was undergoing final editing and due for release six months later. I may have begun the blog anyway because my delight in teaching other people how to write lifestories developed long before I to write about writing at least as much as I like to write stories, so what is more natural than blogging about writing?

When I first began, ideas for posts gushed so fast I could barely keep up with listing them. I determined not to overwhelm readers and settled on a pace of two to three posts a week. Like any large writing project, ideas have been more abundant some times than others, and occasionally I was convinced my muse Sarabelle (who introduced herself to me and blog readers on June 19, 2006) had abandoned me forever.

The blog has evolved in several respects. The appearance has changed from the generic two-column Blogspot Dots template to a fully-customized three-column layout aligned with the theme of my main website, sharonlippincott.com. On January 1, 2009 I changed the title from The Heart and Craft of LifeSTORY Writing to a more inclusive one, The Heart and Craft of Life Writing, to reflect broadening interests that have expanded beyond simple stories.

If Blogspot offered the ability to add labels when I first started, I didn’t know about it. The first post to feature labels was on November 16, 2006. The “Write Now” writing prompt debuted on October 13, 2007. March 2, 2008 was the last time I signed off with “Write on, Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal”. (That signature line was redundant so close to the writing prompt.)

Certain themes, like Truth in writing, recur often. Others are topical and unique.

This is post #306, making an average of just over 100 posts a year, about two per week. Posts average around 600 words each, which totals over 180,000 words — enough to fill three average-size print volumes. (Just think — if you had been writing even one single-spaced page of story a week, you would have filled a finished volume of stories by now.)

This history came to mind as I sorted through posts to select the most relevant to include in Dazzling Descriptions, an eBook bonus gift for those who sign up for the NAMW Make Your Stories Sparkle teleclass I’m teaching, beginning on February 13. Creating this volume was so much fun that I plan to produce additional “Blog Digest” volumes available as eBooks, Print-on-Demand hard copy, and perhaps even Kindle format. I’ll keep you posted on this project.

I continue to write and blog because I continue to learn and grow as I do. I think of myself as an explorer, always wondering what’s around the next corner, and how else to get from here to there. I look forward to many more years of sending continual “trip” updates from the Writer’s Path, sharing new angles, insights and thoughts on writing compelling stories, learning more about ourselves and creating a written legacy of our lives in the process. I hope you will continue to walk with me on this path.

Write now: take a few minutes to review the progress of your writing projects. Do you have a plan, and end result, in mind? How are things shaping up? How has your writing changed over time? What new topics or writing skills would you like to work on over the next few weeks and months?

Like Eating Unsweetened Baking Chocolate

Four different people in the last twenty-four hours have e-mailed me the link to a website with a photography of President Obama’s inauguration address. The photo was taken with a gigapan robot device, enabling viewers to zoom in, much like GoogleEarth or GoogleMaps displays. From a perspective covering hundreds of thousands of onlookers, you can zoom in to dimly see individual notes on band members’ sheets of music. You can also clearly see the expressions on the Bush and Cheney families’ faces.

As I looked at President Bush’s expression, my first thought was, He looks really unhappy. Then I thought, That’s a good start, and utterly trite — how can I describe him more accurately?

I thought about the advice I give students: “Really, very, too, and similar words are meaningless fluff. They add nothing. Tell your readers what you see that makes the person or object more than ordinarily (whatever term you are using). If you say the day was very cold, tell them what is unique or impressive about the coldness of that day.” My current class had lots of fun last week coming up with descriptions of the cold day we were currently experiencing, and once their imaginations were unlocked, they soared, moving from the sublime to the ridiculous. We all had a good laugh and creative jolt.

Turning my attention back to George Bush, I let my mind wander. Leaving out “very” still left things vague. Happy is no more descriptive than cold. How else could I put it? Does he look angry? Not exactly? Disconcerted? Yes, but that’s not quite it either. Outraged? Homicidal? No ... Then the word “bitter” came to mind. That’s it! He looks bitter. But how bitter? He looks like he just took a bite of unsweetened baking chocolate. He looks like he just ate a whole block of unsweetened baking chocolate. That did it. It fit my perception.

On second thought, maybe he doesn’t look bitter. Maybe he looks like he’s fighting back tears (and who would blame him?), or like he's at his best friend's funeral. I’ll leave that for you to decide if you click over to take a look for yourself.

My focus here is on writing description, not analyzing George Bush’s state of mind. Aside from straying from my topic, such analysis would be pure speculation, because I don’t know his state of mind. All I can accurately relate is a description of what I see.

If you want to learn more about the fine points of writing descriptions and join in a discussion of the topic, please join me for half an hour at 7:30 est on Thursday, February 5 for a free preview of my four-week teleclass, Make Your Stories Sparkle. The teleclass is sponsored by the National Association of Memoir Writers and begins on February 13. You can sign up for the free preview and learn about the details of the workshop on the NAMW website. Do sign up even if you can’t dial in on Thursday. The call will be recorded and everyone who signs up will get a link to download it and listen later.

Write now: take a look at that gigapan picture and write your own descriptions of various people you see there. (The view area will have more height if you click the fullscreen link on the left edge below the snapshot bar.) Or describe something else of your choice, then be brave and post your description as a comment.