These kinds of stories...

absolutely make my head spin. How does one know where to turn or what to do next? I concede I am clueless. I am going to stick with the old-fashioned submission process for now, but am not sure for how long. I call this part of the process pimping out my book. It is utterly unenjoyable.

http://online.wsj.com/article_email/SB10001424052970204770404577082303350815824-lMyQjAxMTAxMDAwOTEwNDkyWj.html?mod=wsj_share_email

Opening paragraph

       As promised I will post a bit now about reworking the introductory paragraph of my novel which I have done with the generous cajoling of author Hallie Ephron. She had offered to read one paragraph of emailed work to everyone in attendance at a talk she gave to writers during NaNoWriMo. I immediately knew I would be sending her my first paragraph. I knew it wasn't good enough and yet I was stuck on and attached to the clunky first draft design of it. They were my big purple babies that I just couldn't bring myself to chop. At least not until I had the encouragement of someone wiser, who has toughened to the task of killing her darlings.
      Here's what blogger Sue Rich says about the opening paragraph;
    

Grab the editor by the throat.  No, I don't mean for you to run to an editor's office, wrap your hands around his neck and shake him until he agrees to read your manuscript.  But if the opening paragraph of your story doesn't accomplish that, you're finished before you begin.

If you want your work to explode out of the slush pile and fire an editor's interest, then you must achieve that with the first line, or at the very least, the first paragraph.

Here's an interesting tidbit:  One editor told me (I won't mention names) that when she opens an envelope containing a submission, she pulls the first page only half-way out and reads a few lines.  If her interest isn't piqued by then, she slides the page back in and puts the envelope on the rejection pile.

Don't let that happen to you.

All of us are tempted to start with background--the reasons and motives for our character's behavior--but those of us who have made the hurdle into the ranks of published know a secret.

Background can wait.

First and foremost, you must get the reader's attention, and make them want to know what happens next--and that's no easy feat in just a few sentences.

     I'm not going to share my original draft. I'm actually rather embarrassed by it now. Here is the revised edition and I am most willing to hear any thoughts that come to mind when you read it. Thanks!

     She stood in silence, smiling slightly. Sarah Marie Kelley, now Ms. Kelley, Grade One teacher at Robert F. Kennedy Elementary School was reporting for duty on the first day in her own classroom. No more professors peering over her shoulder to critique her every move. No more well-meaning mentors telling her what to do. Her very own first grade classroom. She would finally get to do things her way, and she had such big plans for the year! She knew how each month, even each week, would unfold for the next 186 days.

     I actually miss the challenge of brainstorming a picture book idea every morning, but it is time to get on with doing something with all of those ideas now. Many of my ideas were about sharing Native American philosophy with children, and now I hope to do a series of children's books on that subject to follow the one I have already finished. Since I have yet to send the finished one out to potential publishers, I will now be able to add the idea of a forthcoming series to my queries, which hopefully will be viewed positively.
      My novel is also getting ready to hit the road. I have two people (OK, friends) reading it right now to offer me feedback, and have finished a complete edit of it myself. I submitted it the The Big Moose new novel competition last week, but unfortunately I did that while it still had a bad first paragraph. Already I think it was bad enough to get it tossed out immediately. I have been reworking the first paragraph this week, with the kind-hearted mentorship of Hallie Ephron. That slaughter of some of my ugliest babies will be the subject of my next post.
     I wrote one new poem this week which I will probably post after it is work-shopped in class tomorrow. I do like it though and was glad to get it down on paper. It had been percolating in my mind for a long time. Funny, there was a little Native American influence there too. Right now I am tweaking on older poem to read at the PPLP hoot this evening. It is one of my poems that I actually like and have read in December before; Mary's Travail.
     Finally, sent out one proposal this morning for The Prickly Pear Poetry Project (my non-profit foundation) to present our workshop at the Massachusetts Poetry Festival in April. Stay tuned...

Tell me what you think...

http://www.seacoastonline.com/articles/20111201-LIFE-112010306

Pitchapalooza

     Well, I guess I put the looza in pitchapalooza. Although it was a big step for me as it was the first time I ever pitched a book, and to do it publicly in front of about one hundred strangers was not the easiest thing to do. I did get some positive feedback. Two of the judges used the word "fascinating" after I gave my one minute pitch for my novel at a local book store. .. But I did not come in the top three. The fishing guys won first place and their book about fishing in New Hampshire has a pretty limited market.
     I also got some negative feedback. Two of the four judges said my title, Holy Buckets, sucks and needs to be changed. Of course, I'm rather partial to it, and still resistant about that. What do you think?

     Here I am mid-pitch...

Update

     I'm sure it appears by my lack of blog posts lately that I've been slacking, but as tends to be true, things are not really what they seem to be. It feels like I have been working harder than ever. Not earning more than ever, just working harder. There certainly have been distractions; the usual home and family mini-emergencies which are tolling in on a very regular basis of late. Time and dollar consuming disturbances to my writing. I have been forced by fiscal necessity to look for additional employment and selfish potential employers have been making me jump through all sorts of hoops for them. More time and dollar consuming disturbances to my writing.
      But I have been writing. Some. I am still tweaking the novel, and still enjoying the revision phase. I wish I had more hours to devote to it. A dear friend read and edited it for me and I am using all of that feedback. I started a monthly poetry class that has me revisiting poetry writing which I had been neglecting while focused on my book. I have also been participating pretty faithfully in PiBoIdMo, and have found the process to be far more fun and worthwhile than I ever anticipated. I have come up with some ideas that I am excited about and fully intend to pursue later. Additionally I have been participating in as many NaNoWriMo events at my public library as I can. They have been such wonderful supporters of writers this month.
     One of those events was the opportunity to attend a talk given by Hallie Ephron. She gave a humorous and warmly inspiring talk to a few writers, and I wished I had had the money to buy her book written just for writers (see below). She was kind enough to offer to critique a paragraph of our work if we chose to send her one which I'm going to do tonight.
     I haven't covered everything I have been up to the last couple of weeks, but I'm going to write to Hallie now, and will continue with the update tomorrow.

warm off the presses...

http://www.seacoastonline.com/articles/20111103-LIFE-111030329

Happy PiBoIdMo!

    Each year I cringe at NaNoWriMo being held in November. I have always liked the idea of the challenge, but November is a daunting month for me. I am a single working mom. I have Thanksgiving and one child's birthday to get through. That is one week of the month shot right there for me! (I spend much of November in the kitchen, and I like it that way.) So when I learned a couple of weeks ago about an alternative choice called PiBoIdMo I was thrilled. This challenge, created and organized by blogger Tara Lazar, encourages participants to come up with one new picture book idea every day for the month of November. I can handle that challenge and see it as quite worthwhile.
     Today was day one of PiBoIdMo and it was easy and enjoyable. And the idea would not have come to me if not for the challenge. There is no question about that. And that is the very purpose of these types of creative challenges, to push you where you would not have gone on your own. They serve this purpose beautifully. There is still time to jump in...
http://taralazar.wordpress.com/piboidmo2010/

Ok kids,

you didn't do very well with the first round of the game. The correct answer was Catch-22.
Let's try another ....
The following is the first line in what novel?

A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green.

name the novel

that opens with this sentence;

     It was love at first sight.

Coming Soon! - WAE Network

I am intrigued... Coming Soon! - WAE Network

A Decade of Magical Thinking

     I put off reading Joan Didion's book for years. Not, I think, due to everyday ordinary old procrastination, but a bit more due to fear. When I was first widowed I read as much as I could about widows, fiction and not. I think I was searching for role models not having any idea how to be what sudden life circumstances had forced me to become. But for some reason that I am still unsure of I couldn't bring myself to read The Year of Magical Thinking.
     Recently I came across a copy in a used book pile and thought that the time had come for me to read it. And I tried. I tried really hard. But I have not succeeded. Not yet anyway. It brings up so many emotions. Basic author envy, that I wish I had written it or something like it. And lots of bad memories about the mistakes that I made during my year (or two) of magical thinking. And the paralyzing fear that a bigger, badder loss could be on the way. So I seem to have abandoned it. It is lying on the vacant side of the bed, splayed open in the middle, and seems best left at that, for now.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/oct/21/joan-didion-blue-nights?CMP=twt_fd

Degas and the Nude

      I was surprised yesterday, albeit pleasantly, at how inspired I was by my visit to the Degas and the Nude exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Not surprised at being inspired, per se. In fact, I am almost always inspired when I study art, but usually I am inspired to create visual art, or perhaps more precisely I am usually inspired to be a frustrated wannabe. But today while studying Degas I was deeply inspired to write. I thought of two completely disparate writing projects that I want to tackle. Both ekphrastic, inspired by and dependent on his art. The first I'll share with you because I invite you to participate. The second, which will be really fun, I'll keep to myself for now.
     I want to curate an anthology of short stories all written in response to a Degas painting titled The Interior, though sometimes called The Rape. I thought it was interesting that many experts have speculated that this painting was itself inspired by a novel (though denied by Degas), and thought it would be a serendipitous full-circle turn to bring it back to the written word again. I was immediately attracted to the idea that everyone who looks upon the dramatic scene he painted will have a different idea of what happened or is happening there, and really believe that it would make an excellent collection of stories.
     So ~ if you want to join in the fun, feel free to send me what you come up with. I promise to give it every consideration for the final cut. I'll attach an image of the painting here, but you might want to duck into the MFAB by 2/5/12 to see the real thing and get inspired yourself.

                            

Pondering publishing

Lots to think about here;

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/17/technology/amazon-rewrites-the-rules-of-book-publishing.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&smid=fb-share&pagewanted=all&adxnnlx=1318858346-Tj9A3IXGDfgeZ6fDLpkj6A

Finished!!

     My novel is done. 40,350 words. Hope that isn't too short?
     The revision stage was really enjoyable. Now on to the marketing stage which I don't think is going to be very much fun at all...

Todays column

Tea for Two: Shiva (Sarah) Shapiro: A newcomer a long time ago | SeacoastOnline.com

Does Early Shoplifting Lead to the Writing Life?

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/10/10/111010fa_fact_smith

      When I read this piece in the current New Yorker I was transported back to sometime around the tumultuous year of 1968, to a department store most likely in Manchester, New Hampshire. I remember that I was wearing a brightly decorated but mostly yellow big kind of hippie shirt we called "a smock" that had two big pockets right about where your hands hang. Big pockets are handy for your hands and for impulsive shoplifting.
     I remember that I was out of eyesight of my mother, which wasn't unusual or particularly terrifying in those days, and I was browsing through a big counter of odds and ends heaped there, typical merchandising in the old five and dimes. I wasn't much taller than the bin and was leaning in to get a better look. I was touching things, and looking at them, I'm not sure why. And that's when I came upon it...
     I picked up a little palm sized Spanish / English dictionary. My heart started beating faster. Touching it felt life changing. I thought about the fact that I was starting school, and only spoke one lousy language, which suddenly seemed pathetic. A serious scholar should speak several languages I thought, and I knew I'd better bone up real quick. I also noticed my handy hippie pockets and how perfectly the little book slid in there. I started working on my vocabulary as soon as I got home, and my mother who didn't seem to notice most things I did, noticed. "Where did you get that?" she asked.
       I replied then much as I still do now when overwrought with guilt, by bursting into a weeping heap while choking out a snotty confession. She said I had to tell my father which was about the worst punishment conceivable and I had to wait hours til he got home to do it. He put me in the car and made me give it back to the befuddled store manager, though Dad did help me with the confession there, probably to bypass the aforementioned histrionics.
     That was it. I was not presented with my own dictionary like Patti Smith. And I never learned to speak more than Sesame Street Spanish, even when I took it in high school. I still speak only one lousy language, and it still seems pathetic to me. It sure would've come in handy when I was in Spain a few years ago. Instead I got to bumble my way through the country with the patient help of the bilingual Spaniards. They had to help me, I didn't have a dictionary with me.

Children’s book at top of latest banned book list

   I wish I could buy a copy of this picture book for every little kid in the country. Wrap it up with a big beautiful bow. Read it to each and every one of them in an old rocking chair. Take a look at the link. I promise no harm will come to you...

Children’s book at top of latest banned book list
     This is the book>

Widdendreams

    Here's a little something that I wrote this week when given the challenge to complete 500 words on the subject of widdendream. Immediately attracted to the word itself I did some research on it, and it brought to mind a bum I had seen walking a New Hampshire city sidewalk recently. A warm summer day, I remember noticing him wearing many heavy items of clothing, but was most struck by how he held a book up to his face. Not in front of his face, but right on and shielding his face, from what only he knew. This is what I imagined it might be...

Jim’s Daily Widdendream

By Tammi j Truax

     James was walking up the sidewalk at a considerable clip, though he was heavily weighed down by his multiple layers of clothing and his back pack filled to the brim and with quite a few tied on attachments. Tied on in the style of an old time hobo. But he wasn't old and he wasn't a hobo. He was a scientist, in search of answers. An anthropologist to be specific. He studied people and places. Sometimes he did. When he had a chance to stake out an observation area. Right now though, it was travel time. Travel time was determined by the sun and the relative heat it gave off. It was unwise (and unpleasant) to travel when you were wearing every item of clothing that you own and it becomes hot outside. He would walk awhile (actually 1759 additional steps) once he became overheated to benefit from the detoxifying sweat bath that resulted and its medicinal properties. But then encampment must take place. Taking 1760 steps or more would tragically disrupt the ratio of travel to camp time and disturb all scientific findings for the entire day and night. This was an indisputable scientific fact well documented in his journals. His journals were his most prized and valuable possession and most of his day and most of his energy went into safeguarding them. They were his life's work, and many people, corporations and governments alike, were out to get them and take credit for his discoveries. They were sealed in a plastic bag which he kept in the left side pocket of his cargo pants where they were closest to his heart. He kept one journal, which he called The Placebo, out most of the time. It was a dummy journal though occasionally when pressed for time and / or in a place where the real journals could not be revealed, he would make a quick first draft note of a discovery in it which he would transfer later when he got to do so safely at camp. Usually, though strictly for security purposes, he would only record the new finding in the form of a diagram which he would transcribe later. The other function (Jim, liked all of his possessions to multitask) of the placebo book was that it served as his mask. It was important to be fully covered while traveling and he wore a hat and a hoodie pulled well around his head. But he had to travel with the book held up right under his chin and covering all of his face except his eyes, much like an Afghani woman’s burqua. He knew people assumed he was a farsighted reading-walker which was fine with him. He didn't want to hurt their feelings and divulge that he saw them all as dirty specimens of a dying pathological city. Mostly though, the placebo was needed to conceal his identity because people were looking for him. He imagined he looked just like the lone ranger, handsome and debonair, and rode on.

All rights reserved. 

Blogging about a Blog

    I wanted to share this wonderful blog post I ran across this morning. It is called Writers Houses and is devoted to "the art of literary pilgrimage". An indulgence I try to engage in regularly and would like to write about too. This entry, just posted today, is about the Sarah Orne Jewett house in South Berwick, Maine, which I have visited many times and lived near for over a decade, in my previous life, when I was a young married woman. It is well worth reading.
     http://writershouses.com/guest/the-cabinet-of-sisters

Update

      Three poems accepted for publication last month! That's a record. They are all due to appear in an anthology called The Widows' Handbook to be published in 2012.  
     Also found this article interesting;  
http://www.npr.org/2011/09/12/140336146/for-the-dying-a-chance-to-rewrite-life?ft=1&f=1001&sc=tw&utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

Tea for Two today

Tea for Two: Looking back at lessons learned | SeacoastOnline.com

‘Bumble-Ardy’

      Another of my favorite New Hampshire writers, with further testimony that grief greatly influences writing.
I'm looking forward to reading this;
Maurice Sendak on ‘Bumble-Ardy’