Moved to WordPress

Ladies and Gents, I have made the move to WordPress. Why? I have loved Blogger - so simple, so easy, the perfect way for me to learn to blog. It's time to kick it up a notch. WordPress seems to hold more credibility in the writing world, and I already have a successful WordPress blog with my writers' group, MUG. So goodbye to blogger for now. All future posts will appear at my WordPress Penned Pennies site.

Hammer Reading

 Last week, I went to see a reading with a fellow writer friend, at his invitation, at the Hammer Museum. It just happened to be Aimee Bender (I just finished reading The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake a couple weeks ago). The other reader was Etgar Keret. I hadn’t heard of him but he turned out to be quite entertaining. He is from Israel and apparently revolutionized literature there. The two of them played off each other well, particularly during the Q&A section.

            Keret explained his impact on the literature in Israel somewhat like this:

            The written word has not changed in Israel in thousands of years. Authors who write in English worry about seeing their book up on a shelf next to Shakespeare. Israel’s authors worry about seeing their book next to the Bible. (Also, as I learned while in Israel, anything with Hebrew writing on it does not get thrown away, rather archived or buried.) Yet, while the written word has carried through, the spoken language has changed. It is common in Israel, when saying something like “see you later,” to say, “Tov yalla bye.” This phrase is a combination of three languages: Hebrew, Arabic, and English. (Tov meaning “good,” yalla meaning “come on” or “hurry up.”) Keret incorporated Hebrew slang into his writing, which was unheard of, and caused quite a reaction in the Israeli community.

            This was an incredible story, especially since I recently went to Israel, but mostly because this is so different from writing in English. When studying creative writing I have always been told to get the dialogue as close to what people actually say as possible. A common writing exercise is to go to a public place and just listen to people, recording it all down, because this informs the veracity of the writing.

            Not to mention their reading selections were fabulous.

Notes on a Manuscript

Received notes on my manuscript from a friend in the mail. Great comments, as usual. Got stopped, as usual. In the interim I revised a short story and wrote a whole new one – this was refreshing, since I hadn’t written anything new in a long time. It was proof that I had not forgotten how.

            I have to remind myself to be discerning when I accept notes from people. I had a creative writing professor who warned against prescriptive comments – both giving and receiving. These are the types of specific notes like “you should kill off x character,” or “you should have x character’s back-story be that he was beaten by his father,” etc. When giving notes, a person’s focus should be what the writer wants the story to be. When receiving notes, an author should be wary of prescriptive ideas not his/her own.

Santa Barbara Weekend

            Spent a long weekend in Santa Barbara to celebrate myriad events: my sister’s birthday, my father’s upcoming birthday, Passover, Easter. Ate lots of good food, spent wonderful time with friends and family, relaxed in a min-vacation, did the things I love to do in SB. Hiking, walking on the beach.


Above, a gorgeous view from my house, and below, another gorgeous -sunset- view from my house.

            Amidst everything, yes, I managed to write. The novel goes. Slow as ever. Yet steady.

It was inspiring to spend time with my sister, who is transitioning from a steady, pay-check culinary job to full-time painting. Talking with her is reminder of everything I’ve gone through to get to where I am, and a reminder of why I’m doing what I’m doing.

The incredibly delicious birthday cake my sister made. She sent the leftovers with me to LA - I was supposed to give them to my writers' group, but ended up eating it myself!

 Above, my boyfriend and my dog taking a moment to rest during our hike. Below, the Easter goodie-bags my sister made for her birthday picnic.

Being there also made me think a lot about my life. I have always jokingly said that my plan is to sell this first book and move back to SB to revise. I have an incredible life in LA, one I’d be reluctant to give up, but being in Santa Barbara made me want to be in Santa Barbara. I was reminded of how much more productive, healthy, and relaxed I am there. The question is, as ever, how to reconcile my lives?

Fading Writers' Group

            One lonely wine bottle. Used to be I’d host a writers’ group and send four or five bottles to the recycle. The group is dying out.

            We’ve faced this before. Life gets in the way and people end up doing other things. We have two members moving to Boston and several with other work or personal commitments. The thing seems to go in ebbs and flows. The flow, last time, happened when I took a couple of classes at UCLA Extension and invited fellow students to join. This time, I’m not planning to take any classes.

            My other group is thriving. I can’t help but compare, and wonder, what makes a writing group tick? Why are some people so committed, and others not? And inevitably, what can I do to spark that commitment, or how do I find other people who already have it?

Getting over the Hump

The key to this, I think, is allowing myself the time I need. Work on other things, perhaps. It’s hard to dissuade the nagging feeling that I should be able to speed up the process.

I've been reading some inspiring articles. Useful during this slump I’m in. Remember: failure is a pathway to success, doubt is a tool. Be the artist that I am.

"The Success of Failure"

"A Powerful Sort of Doubt"

"Burying Henry Miller"

Just a Speed Bump

     Recently I've been struggling to put in more than a hour a day of fiction writing. Sure, there are things like life getting in the way. All that stuff that just takes time to do. Everything takes time. There are relationships to maintain, other projects I want to work on. I've also started a new personal growth and development program that is seven months long, not to mention a 10+ hour commitment each week. It took some adjusting to get back into the swing of things after traveling, too.
     But none of that really has anything to do with writing or not. I know I can work my schedule out. So what is it?
     About a week and a half ago, I met with one of my readers. He is an actor, a screenwriter, studied literature in college. He knows something about story. See Julian Conrad's blog here.
     He gave me an incredible critique. I'm grateful for his feedback - he is the only one from my last round of readers who took the time to sit down with me and go through his comments. Yet, since the critique I've been stopped. I haven't been revising.
     Why? I'm processing. Solutions are being generated, I can feel it. And sometimes, it takes time. Is there a way to speed this process? When I wrote papers in college, usually I didn't want to, and I had to force myself to just sit down and slog through. When I was finished at least I had something to work with. Creativity isn't like that.
     There are ways to generate creativity, but I don't think this is one of those times. Sometimes you have to let the ideas roil around, so when you sit down to revise, something comes out.
     I wouldn't call it a block. Merely a bump.

Another Birthday

An incredibly delicious birthday cheesecake from my mom 

gorgeous birthday tulips from my boyfriend

Another year passed. I am still working on my novel with no near end in sight. My mentor asked me today if I am experiencing frustration with the fact that this is taking longer than I thought it would. Yes, yes I am. This, he tells me, is normal.

 I am also experiencing frustration over not writing for a month while traveling. This, my mentor tells me to simply give up. It’s done. “That dog won’t hunt.” There’s no use beating myself up about it.

So, here we are, another year gone and yet – very much closer to being a successful writer. Almost halfway through the third draft. Now I am back to the daily struggle of scheduling, of writing. The first time I sat down and worked on my novel for an hour since my travels – oh, that felt good.

All of my birthday celebrations, in NY and in LA, were amazing. And, regardless of frustration, I am so happy to be writing again.

Big Apple Vacation

            I am so grateful for the relative security we have in the US. After the whirlwind of Israel, I spent a week in New York, and I was happy to be home.

            My boyfriend, who had never been to NY, met me there. We saw two shows (How to Succeed and Avenue Q), went to the Empire State Building, Central Park, the Guggenheim, the Met, and MOMA, and ate lots of incredible food. We celebrated my birthday and Valentine’s Day, and it was all over in a blink. We barely scratched the surface.

            I had all these plans for what we were going to do and see every day, how I was going to show him the city and made his first trip to NY so incredible. I forgot we were supposed to be on vacation.

He reminded me to slow down, relax, enjoy. This was hard to do, especially because the other thing always in the back of my mind was: wasn’t I supposed to be writing again? I’d given myself a break while in Israel, but now that I was back in the US with my laptop, what was my excuse?

Vacation. Right. Romantic holiday.

I took a deep breath and gave myself permission to slow down, relax, enjoy myself, and not write for another week.

Trip to Israel

Going on the 10-day Birthright trip to Israel was an incredible experience. I would highly recommend this *free* program to anyone with Jewish heritage. I saw so many amazing sights and did so many amazing things. We went to the Western Wall. We hiked Masada. We rode camels in the Negev and floated in the Dead Sea. 

And I was exposed to a part of the world that I hear about on the news but never really got the full impact of until I saw that way of life. Every citizen is required to serve. Their soldiers walk around with huge guns like it’s no big deal, because it’s normal. We had Israelis join our group and we cried together in the Holocaust Museum. But when we went to the veteran cemetery, each one of them knew people buried there.

The women and the men are separated at the Western Wall. There are 26-foot concrete walls on either side of the road leading to Rachel’s tomb, and a checkpoint where 18-year-old soldiers have to decide whether or not to let a woman in because she could be pregnant or she could be carrying a bomb under her dress.

Ignorance is everywhere. Over there, the threat of violence is constant.

My current book is about sororities. It’s really about the way women treat each other. In Israel, I was reminded of the bigger picture. It’s about humanity. I don’t know what I will write next, but I suspect I will write it with the intention of bringing awareness. Of asking those questions: how do we treat each other? How can we unite as people, as humans?

Israel

I am sitting at my friend's apartment in New York, about to take a bus to Newark airport, about to get on a flight to Israel! Excited, nervous, worried about not working on my novel for 10 whole days. (And regretful that I haven't posted on my blog for this whole month - trip prep is my excuse!) My mentor, and others who know me well, or have experience as writers themselves, told me to take the vacation. Give myself a break, and when I get back, I'll have new eyes. There was one chapter in particular I've been stuck on. Perhaps the time away is the perfect solution.

My Early Work

If I were a caterpillar, my name would be Tayloo and I would throw fabulous caterpillar parties with lots of balloons. At least, according to my six-year-old imagination.

This is one of my very first pieces, which I wrote when I was in kindergarten.

I was a sassy six.

Then, I wrote for the joy of writing. Creation. Always the artist. Whether my work would find an audience – it was never a question. Now, I write for that, and because I want to change people’s lives. I want to touch people, to be that story that threw a lightning bolt through your gut, the book that made you laugh aloud, forgetting you sat in a coffee shop, and you were unabashed when people turned to look, the one that made you cry, and pass it on for how it moved you might move your sister, or your father, or your best friend. The thing that allowed you to see the other side of someone’s story, and so you could forgive, or the one that brought you closer to someone you thought you’d lost. The one that gave you courage to do something you thought you couldn’t, or gave you insight into yourself that brought you peace, or spurred you to change.

I have always been a writer. I have been creating stories from the moment I could. I write to touch people. To change lives.

These are not original statements, but they are true.

Draft 3...This Novel Will End

As for the writing itself, I’m chugging along. Submitting to groups and revising, moving steadily through Draft 3. Discussing with my mentor the kinds of details I could use to lodge my characters in my readers’ memories, how to rid my story of excessive flashbacks, how to incorporate strange language. He suggested I write his fiancée, who has published several historical fiction novels, and often uses anachronistic terms. Her advice was useful. I most appreciated her comments:

I'm sure you probably feel like the book will never be finished, at this point. :)  But it will be finished, and you'll feel indescribably elated.

Like it will never end is exactly how I feel. After this draft will be another and another, and so on and so on. I am so glad to have this assurance, from someone who has been through this several times, and who just had her most recent novel picked up by a leading publisher in her genre.

As always, rather than worrying, what there is for me to do is focus on the work itself.

Holidays 2011

For Christmas and Chanukah, I received several books, which I am very excited to read! The holidays have been crazy. I spent three days cleaning, preparing the house for guests, and then the family arrived – grandmother, aunts, uncle, four boy cousins ages 8, 5, and twin almost-2’s.

            In the madness, I still made time to write.

            One evening during dinner, I had a brief conversation that went like this:

Aunt: When are you getting up? Are you writing every day?

Me: I could skip for Christmas. It’s one day.

Uncle: But if you skip one day…

A writer himself, among other things, my uncle knows how easily one day can become two, or three, and so on. And how hard it can be to start back up again, once you break your rhythm.

My family worked around me, allowing me to keep my vacation schedule: sleep late, write. They got the kids out of the house in the morning, and we all met up around lunchtime.

A friend of mine, home for the holidays, has a family full of doctors. He got lecture after lecture about the things he should be doing right now. How he should be spending his time, the way he should be focusing, the classes he should take. He wants to be an artist.

Families – so full of love and joy and togetherness around the holidays, also come with pressure and stress. I am so lucky to have the love and support of mine. I’m grateful for this gift.

Day of Thanks 2011

Above: my sister carving the turkey. She made a delicious –and gorgeous!– Thanksgiving dinner.

I am grateful for the life that I lead, for the people in it, who support me in following my dreams. I am surrounded by incredible people, and I would not be doing what I’m doing if not for them and their love. I give thanks for the relationships I have, with powerful, creative people, full of love and intimacy and helping each other grow.

A year ago I had completed 100 pages of the first draft of my novel. Now, I have completed 2 drafts. I have given myself a deadline – I start the third draft tomorrow, December 1^st.

Pie Procrastination

I finished the second draft of my novel over a month ago, so it’s high time I started in on the third draft. So I’m making pie. Pumpkin pie. From scratch. From an actual pumpkin.

And key lime pie. (From actual key limes.)

And chicken potpie. (With, yes, actual chicken.)

My mother and sister are both professional chefs. I grew up with great food, but I didn’t cook – I just ate. I am someone who is great friends with the microwave.

            It started with a pie pumpkin purchase from Trader Joe’s – I thought I was going to carve it for Halloween, but the recipe sticker got me thinking. I found some recipes online, acquired the necessary spices, and set to it:

I was on a roll, so when a couple of friends gave me a bunch of fresh key limes from their lime tree, my thought right after “margaritas” was “key lime pie.”

I think this one would have been easier if I’d had the right tools. Like a juicer. I made the smart move of cutting my thumb while grating the lime zest, so it was especially fun squeezing the citrus juice.

I love Martha Stewart’s pate brisee recipe – easy and always delicious and flaky. But it does take time, and this pie dough from Trader’s is quicker and comes out well.

I tried key lime squares with graham cracker crust, however, and that was even better. Powdered sugar was also essential, otherwise the tart lime flavor was overpowering.

            My dad loved the key lime squares so much, he asked me to make some for his office potluck.

Chicken potpie is one of the few things I make on a regular basis (by that I mean, maybe once every three months), so I only took the finale photo…

All told, I made six pies in less than two weeks. Moral of the story: if you want to learn to cook, start writing a novel.