Saturday Good Reads

I must have writing on the brain, because several of the good reads below are about writing.

Prose

“When Everything Flows” by Melissa at All the Words.

“Writerly Rules” by Tom Vowler at How to Write a Novel.

“Why the World Needs You” by Mick Silva at Your Writer’s Group.

“10 Ways to Write Skinny Sentences” by K.M. Weilland at Word Play, and her “The Myth of Being in the Zone” at The Master’s Artist.

“Lost and Found and Lost” by John Blasé at Dirty Shame.

“NightandILoveYou” by Billy Coffey in his Monday post at Hey Look, A Chicken! And then he posted “This Lump of Clay” at The Master’s Artist.

“Why Doctrine is Only Half the Message” by Don Miller.

“Nature, Alone” by Brian Volck at The Image Journal.

“Cool Waters, Common Ground and the One That Didn’t Get Away” by Jeff Jordan.

“The Poetry of Illness” by Maureen Doallas.


Poetry

“The Hunger,” by Pete Marshall

“Things” by Justinian at Delight and Glory and Oddity and Light.

“Stay” by John Blasé at Dirty Shame.

“The house shook” by Nancy Rosback at Poems and Prayers. And then Nancy wrote three poems inspired by Part 1 of The Mystery of the Cross.

"Song 23" by Fred Sprinkle at I Force It to Rhyme. It sounds familiar, and it is – and it’s not.

This regular Saturday post is about the articles, essays and poems written by others. But if you’re into monster poetry, read the article “Controlling Our Monsters in Verse” by Marcus Goodyear at High Calling Blogs. One of mine is cited and discussed – but the article links to 26 poems written in the past week from monsters’ perspectives – and they are wonderful.

National Poetry Month: Silence of the Trees

Friday concludes National Poetry Month for the United States and Canada (the British do theirs in October), and we’ve been talking it up a bit over at TweetSpeak Poetry. We’ve had a daily post that was usually a short feature on a poet with some of his or her poems, with an occoasional poetry review thrown in. We even did a random giveaway of a opy of InsideOut:Poems by L.L. Barkat, and Karen Eck of Phoenix-Karenee had her name chosen, received her book, and actually drew some illustrations in it.

The poets featured included Rupert Brooke, Sara Teasdale and Vachel Lindsay, Langston Hughes, Sylvia Plath, T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, Robert Lowell, Carl Sandburg, Walt Whitman, Jack Gilbert, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Donald Hall, Adrienne Rich, Louise Gluck, John Ashbery, Gary Soto, Gwendolyn Brooks, L.L. Barkat, Robert Frost, Maureen Doallas, Derek Walcott, Mona Van Duyn, Edgar Lee Masters, Nancy Rosback, Emily Dickinson, and John Keats. (Friday’s feature is Edgar Allan Poe.) Some old, some new, some published, some unpublished. In putting this together, I had the opportunity to read poems I haven’t read since high school and college.

Take a look; the English language has a rich legacy in poetry, and the posts at TweetSpeak only scratch the surface.

For this last day of National Poetry Month of 2010, I offer one of my own. It’s not based on a true story, but it is based on a story.

The Silence of the Trees


He stands within the silence of the trees,
wind filtering morning light on
his bare limbs,
not hearing the rustling of new leaves.
Beneath a green dome of soundlessness,
he stares at the house,
unmoving; remembering.

He hears her voice, lilting in
laughter as she leans from an
upper room,
the voice of the girl becoming
young woman, a voice vanished,
a voice he hears
now only in memory.

A voice silenced in violence, a
violence that came to him,
too, later.
He listens now for ghosts,
lingering traces of ghosts,
whispering soft words
in the silence of the trees.

"Last Light," Photograph by Nancy Rosback. Used with Permission.

Mike Dellosso's "Darlington Woods"

It took me a week to read Mike Dellosso’s Darlington Woods. I could have read in far less time; it’s that fast-paced. But it is also one scary read, so scary that I had to read some, put it down, read some more, put in down and catch my breath. It’s definitely not a book for the fainthearted.

But it is a great story.

Rob Shields has lost his wife Kelly and son Jimmy to kidnapping and murder. Kelly’s body is eventually found; the police think they've found Jimmy’s body but it's not definitive. Then Rob inherits a house in Maryland from his aunt, and he travels from his home in Massachusetts to see it, only to find a profound evil and perhaps – just perhaps – his son.

Dellosso, author of The Hunted and Scream, writes in the Christian supernatural, horror, and suspense genre. And he writes better than well. Each page crackles with tension, pulling the reader deeper and deeper into the story. The action happens simultaneously over just a few days – and 20 years. No small feat to pull that off, and Dellosso does it with ease. And as the sun sets in Darlington and its nearby woods, we meet the darklings, led by the Wax Man, who is out for revenge, and revenge against Rob in particular. Only gradually does the reader learn why, and that gradualness adds to the tension.

Darlington Woods is a terrific story and a terrific read, Dellosso’s best yet. He knows how to tell a wild, dark and suspenseful story.

Just don’t go into Darlington Woods.

(Attention Federal Trade Commission: I bought this book from Amazon.com. With my own money. Just so you know.)

Monsters, Too (Two)

L.L. Barkat posed a monstrous challenge for this week's Random Act of Poetry at the High Calling Blogs -- write a poem from a monster's point-of-view.

I couldn't write one poem from a monster's perspective. But I could write two.

A Good Year to be a Zombie

Appearances deceive.
And it hurts.
Yes, I lurch a little when
I walk. A bit ungainly.
It’s the arthritis, common
to the undead,
especially the long undead.
My skin, well, yes, there’s
that I suppose. Yes, I
know it has a greenish-purplish
tinge and a few splotches, and
some pieces fall off now and
then (shaking hands is always
problematic: “let me give you
a hand”). Then, the clothes.
Sure, I could be more stylish,
a kind of Coffin Chic,
but even if I didn’t
scare the clerks at Brooks Brothers
just by walking in the door, I’d have
trouble with my stiff
arms (arthritis again).
And no Visa card.
The undead can’t get credit cards
but they do let us vote
in Chicago.
But I hear there’s this guy
In Texas,
who’s good for a cup
of coffee,
and maybe he’ll buy me a
venti non-fat latte; if I find him,
it will be a good year for a zombie.
And no iced latte, please;
I can’t shake the chill.



(Photo by someone obviously not Marcus Goodyear; used with impunity.)

It’s a Long Time Between Gigs

Hey! Another pina colada, and don’t
forget the umbrella!
So it may look cool, hanging here by
the pool, but it’s work. You have to
be seen, baby, and it can be a long
time between gigs. I was huge, man,
back then, big time. Walk down the
street, show up at the Brown Derby,
no reservation, people noticed, man.

It was 30 years, three decades, from
Fay to those Japanese send-ups. I
parodied myself in a language I
couldn’t speak; pitiful but you have to
eat. But Fay, ah, now there was a real
sweetheart, always watching out for her
leading man. The planes buzzing the
Empire scared her more than me, but
I knew it was OK, man.

All that fame; I loved it. They asked me
to concrete my prints at Graumann’s,
you know. But we had to do it out back
in the parking lot. That’s a joke, son.
Yeah, I know the Japanese movies
were embarrassing but look, I needed
the money and all I had to do was knock
down a few buildings and power lines and
beat up Godzilla. And it paid good.

But those Japanese, no romance. No Fay.
And sure I wanted to do Othello or Hamlet
but even Olivier had trouble getting work.
I really thought the remake in ’76 would be
my meal ticket. I even wrote a book, you
know, the old movie-book tie-in. It even
sold OK. And then what? Nothing. My
publicist blew it and I had to fire that
thieving no-good wastrel but don’t quote me.

So I keep up appearances, hang around
Beverly Hills, loiter on Rodeo, do the
premieres and some charity stuff. Tried
out for a few movies, too, do you know that?
Costner got Dances with Wolves after I
stepped on the wolf pack. Accidents happen,
man. That role was written for me. They wanted
me to be an orc in Lord of the Rings but I said no,
I like characters with empathy, know what I mean?

And I miss Fay. She was the best. One of a
kind. Real people, she was.
Hey! Where’s that pina colada?

The Right to Write: Laying Track

Julia Cameron in The Right to Write talks of “laying track” – getting the words, and getting them all out, before going back to edit and revise. (In May/June issue of Poets & Writers Magazine, short story writer and soon-to-be-published novelist Benjamin Percy has a good article entitled “Home Improvement,” about how revision can also and often does function as major renovation; alas, the article is available only in the print edition.)

I like the idea of getting it all out, and then going back to revise. Revising during the original drafting process is often futile, and it’s been my experience that most writing – a story, a poem, an article, an essay – benefits more from getting the words out first, followed by editing and revising.

And then there are speeches. Or at least the way I write speeches.

I have generally written speeches in the same way since I started writing them, which was, well, let’s just say I was writing speeches before we had desktop computers or laptops and word processing software.

But early on I fell into a pattern, and once I began to recognize it, I formalized it. And it went (and it still goes) something like this.

First, I type the speech draft on my computer. I let it pour out, assuming the words are pouring (sometimes they trickle, and sometimes I have to call the plumber in to unclog the faucet). But assume they’re pouring. I let the whole thing just cascade onto the computer screen. At this point, I avoid editing at all costs, because editing will only bog me down. Julia Cameron would be proud.

Next, the first Big Edit. I engage in what I call SWBWA – speech writing by walking around. I print a copy of the prose torrent, and then I walk around, reading it. There’s nothing magic about the walking; it’s just what I do, most likely out of nervous habit. As I walk, I will often will read it out loud, to listen to how it sounds (well, it is a speech, after all, meant to be heard as opposed to read). I have a pen with me, and often stop to make notes, change a word or phrase, or strike a sentence or paragraph. Back at my desk, I start the second Big Edit –and edit the typed draft by hand. Then I’ll type the changes.

Finally, and especially for those speeches requiring emotional writing or the use of empathy or compassion, I will write those sections by hand, and often over and over again. I can’t explain it, but I write emotional sections of speeches by hand, and it always comes out better than trying to write it on the computer or a typewriter. After I’ve got it where I want it, then I type it into the draft.

It’s probably no coincidence that I write poems like step three of writing speeches – always by hand. But that’s another story.


Over at the High Calling Blogs, Laura Boggess is leading a discussion of Cameron’s The Right to Write. Take a look and see what others are saying, commenting and posting. Last week’s discussion was about writing where you are. This week's is on the "time lie."

Related:

Nancy Rosback at Poems and Prayers talks about making time and bad writing.

Nancy's "Just A Minute" at Treasures of Darkness.

L.L. Barkat's "Writing Theft" at Seedlings in Stone.

"If" by Marilyn as As Good A Day As Any.

"Flight" by ELL at Red or Gray.

Monica Sharman's "The Right to Write."

Maureen Doallas' "Creative Rituals for the Writing Life."


"Blacktracks," photograph by Nancy Rosback. Used with permission.

Saturday Good Reads

This list of good reads on the web is growing. So much good stuff to read and enjoy.

Prose

“Why Poetry?” An essay on L.L. Barkat’s Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places and InsideOut: Poems was published over at Hearts and Minds Bookstore.

“Poetry by Prompt” by Maureen Doallas at Writing Without Paper.

“Dear God, this is my pouring out” by Kelly Sauer at This Restless Heart.

“How to be a true writer” by Mick Silva at Your Writer’s Group.

“Frames and Focus” by Tess Giles at Anchors and Masts.

"Jacques Maritain's Christian Art" by Noel De Vries at Novel Journey.

“Mommybloggers are the Mary Kay Ladies of the Internet”by Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary.

Kathleen Overby celebrates her youngest’s birthday in “Brita.”

“How Writers Build Courage” by Alan Rinzler at The Book Deal.

“It’s Story Time” by Jeanne Damoff for The Master’s Artist.

Poetry

“Reward” by Anne Lang Bundy at Building His Body.

“The Rhyme Not Written” by Erin Kilmer at Together for Good. (And we all apologize to Robert Frost.) And “Laugh Lines.”

"Closing the Window" by Susan Etole at Just…A Moment.

“The Park” and “The Old Church Hall” by Pete Marshall.

“Only a Step Away” by Diane Walker at Contemplative Photography

“Needing to sleep” and "The world's rim" by Justinian at Delight and Glory and Oddity and Light.

“Losing Control” by Maureen Doallas at Writing Without Paper.

“The Green Flannel Blanket” by John Blasé at The Dirty Shame.

“Inside Joke” by Melissa at All the Words.

“Lost” by Nancy Rosback at Poems and Prayers.

The 27th Day of Community: Kathy Richards

There are at least three Kathy Richards.

First, there is the Supreme @katdish on Twitter, where she reigns in awesomeness.

She is the author of the Katdishionary, which has no equal.

She thinks of nefarious things to do (via Sky Mall) to people whose houses will soon occupy the fields behind her home. (Would you like to be confronted by a smiling Buddha or a zombie statue in your neighbor's yard?)

She is not afraid of telling anyone "you are not the boss of me" and has a comeback ready when her kids use it on her.

She wages war on clowns.

She is THE charter member of the Fellowship of Traveling Smarty-Pants.

And she keeps Buddy Love the dachshund in line.

Then there is the Kathy Richards who encourages.

She generously opens her blog every week (by invitation) to guest bloggers.

She discovered Billy Coffey's writing and played an instrumental role in stopping him from chucking it all in discouragement. (And how many people has that alone blessed!)

She leaves thoughtful, deep and profound comments on people's blog posts (in addition to the funny ones). (I'm still working on getting the beret she says I need to have.)

The third Kathy Richards is the one who loves God with all the exuberance she can muster (and she can muster a lot). She loves her family and her church. And that love and exuberance comes flowing out over all of us who read her blog posts and follow her on Twitter and marvel at her creative imagination.

And she paints, too!

How can you not read and follow a blog called Hey Look, A Chicken!

And you better follow her on Twitter on you may find a zombie statue in your yard.

(Last December, a number of us participated in the "Twelve Days of Community" - see the button near the top right - sponsored by The High Calling Blogs. The purpose was to highlight a blog or web site of someone other than ourselves during the season of Advent and Christmas. I liked the idea so much that I'm continuing to do that -- highlight a blog or web site of a person whose thoughts and writing have had an impact on me and others.)