by Tamara Passey
Have you ever tried to force a plant to grow? Or a flower to bloom? Or force fruit to ripen? Have you ever tried to force inspiration? That doesn't work so well either. I wasn't exactly trying to force inspiration for this blog post --I just got excited when I had an opportunity to visit the gardens at Thanksgiving Point yesterday. I planned to wander the beautiful grounds there and come home with ample analogies for nurturing the inner writer like a gardener might nurture his flower beds.
It was Two-Buck Tuesday, so I brought my children. We arrived and the place was packed. We were there no more than six minutes when my four year-old said, "Can we go home to Grandma's pool?" Of course we stayed, having just driven numerous miles and paid admission. But my time there was not the leisurely, contemplative kind. I spent the next few hours helping my child stay engaged in the vibrant outdoors. The vibrant, hot, humid and crowded outdoors. Oh, isn't that what summer family vacations are for?
The gardens were great for a day trip with my children. Had the conditions been different, I might have been struck with ideas for writing. But maybe not. Those inspiring ideas are like the gardens --they bloom when they are ready --not always when we are.
As for nurturing the inner writer, this is my conclusion: Take your kids to the gardens (or any other lovely place) to nurture them. Buy a 15 cent notebook at any school supply sale and take it and yourself anywhere you'd like . . . and write.
Wherein Marsha Ward (the founder of American Night Writers Association) and a few of her friends blogged about Life, the Universe, and their place in the World of Writing and Publishing. This blog is now dormant.
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 3, 2010
Listening for that Still Small Voice
by Terri Wagner
As Gospel Doctrine teacher, I have the privilege of learning a doctrinal lesson every week. There's nothing like having to teach to make you study. This last Sunday's lesson was on Elijah. I felt that the focus for the class should be on waiting out the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire for the still small voice.
As I prepared my lesson, I felt the Spirit testifying to me about the importance of the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire. Today we could liken them to diva drama (guys have this too, they just don't like to admit it), the emotionally charged moment and moral confusion.
In pondering the significance of this lesson both to Elijah and to us, I thought about an experience I had years ago with a close friend. We were writing a story and she wanted a certain type of love scene which the plot seem to call for while I was uncomfortable with it. We struggled to find a solution. It ended with a plot change that drained all our enthusiam for the story.
I've read this blog for years and the same moral confusion seems to rise up. Perhaps we should wait out the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire to hear the still small voice that will surely guide us to the best option.
The message of the Elijah also seemed to include waiting for the best not settling for less.
As Gospel Doctrine teacher, I have the privilege of learning a doctrinal lesson every week. There's nothing like having to teach to make you study. This last Sunday's lesson was on Elijah. I felt that the focus for the class should be on waiting out the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire for the still small voice.
As I prepared my lesson, I felt the Spirit testifying to me about the importance of the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire. Today we could liken them to diva drama (guys have this too, they just don't like to admit it), the emotionally charged moment and moral confusion.
In pondering the significance of this lesson both to Elijah and to us, I thought about an experience I had years ago with a close friend. We were writing a story and she wanted a certain type of love scene which the plot seem to call for while I was uncomfortable with it. We struggled to find a solution. It ended with a plot change that drained all our enthusiam for the story.
I've read this blog for years and the same moral confusion seems to rise up. Perhaps we should wait out the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire to hear the still small voice that will surely guide us to the best option.
The message of the Elijah also seemed to include waiting for the best not settling for less.
Aug 2, 2010
The Future is Coming
By: Rebecca Irvine
I just got back from vacation and am exhausted, so I have decided to post portions of an article recently published in the Los Angeles Times, titled Apple's Tablet and the Future of Literature (by Daniel Akst). Sorry for being so lazy, but I have been very interested recently by what appears to be a siesmic shift in the publishing industry, not to mention the implications it will have for authors around the world. I hope you find this as interesting as I have.
Literature has always relied on technology. We wouldn't have the Dead Sea Scrolls had the ancients failed to invent papyrus, just as we wouldn't have "The Da Vinci Code" if Gutenberg hadn't come out with movable type.
Technology has also abetted literature by enabling the wealth and leisure that fueled the rise of the popular press -- and allowed for such luxuries as a class of professional writers and a large campus establishment devoted to the literary arts.
It is important to bear in mind that technology is not the sworn enemy of literature as Apple prepares (according to frantic rumor) to unveil its much-anticipated new tablet computer on Jan. 27. Still, the collision of technology and literature in this case may well prove explosive.
A well-designed Apple tablet, embedded in the right business model, has the potential to blow up the book business as we know it, ultimately upending the whole rickety edifice of publishers, booksellers and agents, much as the digital revolution (and Apple) have done to the music business.
It's been clear for a while, of course, that the future of text is digital. And an Apple tablet wouldn't be the first of its kind. Amazon's Kindle is almost synonymous with dedicated electronic readers, and others have appeared recently as well.
But these devices are relatively primitive. By comparison, the iPhone and its iPod Touch sibling are already remarkably good reading machines while doing so much more as well. Equipped with a 10-inch screen and sold for the right price, the formidable tablet will force competitors to ramp up their game.
These new tablets will give ink on paper a powerful nudge into history's wastebasket, helping to remake not just books but newspapers, magazines and other material we've traditionally consumed in print.
The result will be a seismic change in the literary culture. Ubiquitous tablets will make books cheaper and more readily available, even as physical bookstores follow Tower Records into oblivion. Lending libraries will have to figure out a new mission; the time is not far off when the typical 10-year-old will have the equivalent of the Library of Alexandria in her backpack.
Tablets will also change the nature of books. The reliably fixed quality of ink on paper is being replaced by the protean nature of bytes, introducing an element of impermanence into the written record of civilization, as some scholars have already complained.
I just got back from vacation and am exhausted, so I have decided to post portions of an article recently published in the Los Angeles Times, titled Apple's Tablet and the Future of Literature (by Daniel Akst). Sorry for being so lazy, but I have been very interested recently by what appears to be a siesmic shift in the publishing industry, not to mention the implications it will have for authors around the world. I hope you find this as interesting as I have.
Literature has always relied on technology. We wouldn't have the Dead Sea Scrolls had the ancients failed to invent papyrus, just as we wouldn't have "The Da Vinci Code" if Gutenberg hadn't come out with movable type.
Technology has also abetted literature by enabling the wealth and leisure that fueled the rise of the popular press -- and allowed for such luxuries as a class of professional writers and a large campus establishment devoted to the literary arts.
It is important to bear in mind that technology is not the sworn enemy of literature as Apple prepares (according to frantic rumor) to unveil its much-anticipated new tablet computer on Jan. 27. Still, the collision of technology and literature in this case may well prove explosive.
A well-designed Apple tablet, embedded in the right business model, has the potential to blow up the book business as we know it, ultimately upending the whole rickety edifice of publishers, booksellers and agents, much as the digital revolution (and Apple) have done to the music business.
It's been clear for a while, of course, that the future of text is digital. And an Apple tablet wouldn't be the first of its kind. Amazon's Kindle is almost synonymous with dedicated electronic readers, and others have appeared recently as well.
But these devices are relatively primitive. By comparison, the iPhone and its iPod Touch sibling are already remarkably good reading machines while doing so much more as well. Equipped with a 10-inch screen and sold for the right price, the formidable tablet will force competitors to ramp up their game.
These new tablets will give ink on paper a powerful nudge into history's wastebasket, helping to remake not just books but newspapers, magazines and other material we've traditionally consumed in print.
The result will be a seismic change in the literary culture. Ubiquitous tablets will make books cheaper and more readily available, even as physical bookstores follow Tower Records into oblivion. Lending libraries will have to figure out a new mission; the time is not far off when the typical 10-year-old will have the equivalent of the Library of Alexandria in her backpack.
Tablets will also change the nature of books. The reliably fixed quality of ink on paper is being replaced by the protean nature of bytes, introducing an element of impermanence into the written record of civilization, as some scholars have already complained.
Aug 1, 2010
Kaizen for Writers
By Cecily Markland
The Japanese named it, Toyota adopted it, and most writers seem to have it instinctively.
Called “kaizen,” it comes from the Japanese word for "improvement" or "change for the better."
This philosophy of focusing on continuous improvement has been referred to particularly in manufacturing, engineering, business and management practices. Companies, like Toyota, who have made kaizen a standard practice, use it as a way to improve production and simplify processes. Most of all, though, kaizen emphasizes people and their contributions. So, companies that apply this philosophy look for ways to continue to improve functions while involving all employees from the CEO to the assembly line workers—making their bottom line better, while maintaining the human side of their business.
When kaizen is applied, employees are to be on constant alert, looking for ways to improve and to help make others’ jobs easier. Front line workers are to watch for anything that doesn’t seem to be working right or flowing smoothly, and then, to suggest changes and modifications. Those on the shipping or packaging end of things are encouraged to consider the complete picture and recommend ways to help things move along better.
Okay, no need to belabor the industrial view of kaizen. My point is, it’s a philosophy that is deeply imbedded in most writers as well. It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think? Writers seem to have an instinct, a fundamental drive that pushes them to improve themselves and to contribute to the world around them.
As writers, we look, not for changes that simply get the job done, but ways to “change for the better,” by continually improving our plots, making our characters come to life, and struggling to find the exact word that conveys the meaning and emotion our stories need. Ultimately, our goal is writers is to make the process of communication, of conveying human emotions and resolutions, in ways that will flow most smoothly and elicit the most favorable responses from our end users.
Our internal kaizen instincts drive us to read others’ writing, to attend writers’ conferences (by the way, GREAT job to those who put together the ANWA Retreat) and to struggle to put ourselves in touch with the most effective muse we can find.
While every writer has those kernels of desire, some have revved up their drive and formalized their processes so they seem to be hitting on all cylinders, producing and publishing work that is better and more widely received all the time.
Unfortunately, looking at the Toyota’s among us, some get a bit discouraged and forget that a minor tune-up of even a paragraph or two a day will get them moving along on their own kaizen process.
Sometimes it’s a little thing that will get us regenerated and refocused. A critique that gives us new ideas, a manuscript sent to a publisher, or something completely non-writing related that spurs us on. Sometimes, it’s other people’s words that remind us to get back in there and find wonderful ways to use our own.
For me, Valerie Ipson’s keynote at the ANWA Retreat was that kind of catalyst, as were two other great quotes I read this week. In Red Means Go, Carl Taylor says “When you apply consistent daily practice, your life is going to change dramatically.”
And, a Scottish Proverb reminds us, “What may be done at any time, will be done at no time.”
With that, my own kaizen process now has a plan for the coming weeks, with specific writing times, a project goal…and, most of all, a desire to take a step or two forward in this process of continual improvement!
The Japanese named it, Toyota adopted it, and most writers seem to have it instinctively.
Called “kaizen,” it comes from the Japanese word for "improvement" or "change for the better."
This philosophy of focusing on continuous improvement has been referred to particularly in manufacturing, engineering, business and management practices. Companies, like Toyota, who have made kaizen a standard practice, use it as a way to improve production and simplify processes. Most of all, though, kaizen emphasizes people and their contributions. So, companies that apply this philosophy look for ways to continue to improve functions while involving all employees from the CEO to the assembly line workers—making their bottom line better, while maintaining the human side of their business.
When kaizen is applied, employees are to be on constant alert, looking for ways to improve and to help make others’ jobs easier. Front line workers are to watch for anything that doesn’t seem to be working right or flowing smoothly, and then, to suggest changes and modifications. Those on the shipping or packaging end of things are encouraged to consider the complete picture and recommend ways to help things move along better.
Okay, no need to belabor the industrial view of kaizen. My point is, it’s a philosophy that is deeply imbedded in most writers as well. It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think? Writers seem to have an instinct, a fundamental drive that pushes them to improve themselves and to contribute to the world around them.
As writers, we look, not for changes that simply get the job done, but ways to “change for the better,” by continually improving our plots, making our characters come to life, and struggling to find the exact word that conveys the meaning and emotion our stories need. Ultimately, our goal is writers is to make the process of communication, of conveying human emotions and resolutions, in ways that will flow most smoothly and elicit the most favorable responses from our end users.
Our internal kaizen instincts drive us to read others’ writing, to attend writers’ conferences (by the way, GREAT job to those who put together the ANWA Retreat) and to struggle to put ourselves in touch with the most effective muse we can find.
While every writer has those kernels of desire, some have revved up their drive and formalized their processes so they seem to be hitting on all cylinders, producing and publishing work that is better and more widely received all the time.
Unfortunately, looking at the Toyota’s among us, some get a bit discouraged and forget that a minor tune-up of even a paragraph or two a day will get them moving along on their own kaizen process.
Sometimes it’s a little thing that will get us regenerated and refocused. A critique that gives us new ideas, a manuscript sent to a publisher, or something completely non-writing related that spurs us on. Sometimes, it’s other people’s words that remind us to get back in there and find wonderful ways to use our own.
For me, Valerie Ipson’s keynote at the ANWA Retreat was that kind of catalyst, as were two other great quotes I read this week. In Red Means Go, Carl Taylor says “When you apply consistent daily practice, your life is going to change dramatically.”
And, a Scottish Proverb reminds us, “What may be done at any time, will be done at no time.”
With that, my own kaizen process now has a plan for the coming weeks, with specific writing times, a project goal…and, most of all, a desire to take a step or two forward in this process of continual improvement!
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