The Art of Writing

I write every day – emails, grocery lists, notes from telephone conversations, text messages, journaling, articles I’m working on and even some parts of my book.  (The real question is which book.) That’s because I’m in the middle of at least four, maybe five.  One is completed and needs to be published but I don’t have an agent.  It’s been read and re-read by published authors and well-accepted but needs, in my opinion, a true editor’s keen eye.  So it too sits inside my computer waiting.

Someone asked me the other day what my favorite part about my job is and I said that interviewing people for the stories I write.  I love hearing their stories and being able to put it down on paper.  Then I love getting an email, phone call and even a text from the subject of my story giving me praise and thanks for the article after it’s published.  That is truly rewarding. (The check from the publisher isn’t too bad either.)  I say this because it makes me accountable to the time they gave to let me interview them.  If the end result is not good for the subject, then I consider the story a failure, no matter how well-written it was.

Recently, a lot of what I’ve written is done in kind (no money exchanged) as I also offer my writing talents to the organizations I belong to such as Girl Scouts.  I am always amazed at how one group can consistently be in the newspaper while another is ignored when I know the other is sending things to the paper for publication.  PR (public relations) is about networking and knowing the right people.  Anyone who writes knows this because in today’s writing world, publicists practically don’t exist.  The first lesson in authoring a published book is how to market that book.

We should always be looking for and be discovering opportunities to write and finding ways to fine tune the art of writing.

Local writer and award-winning author Deborah Levine has created a Facebook Page called Author! Author – a global writers page.  She recently posted this YouTube video “The Art of
Persuasive Writing.”  It is worth viewing.

Three articles were published in a local newspaper this month; two more are ready to be turned for November, in the same paper.  Another local “glossy” bi-monthly magazine has given me the go on an article for their December issue and I’ve volunteered to donate my writing and “reporting” skills to cover some special events coming up at my granddaughter’s elementary school.  They need the publicity and I have the time and talent to offer them my services.

Writing is a gift; it is a challenge; it is commitment.  But I love it!

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Why I Write

I say I write because I love it.  Writing takes time; time away from family, friends, chores around the house and even work.  Some people write early in the morning and some late in the evening.  I write when I have the chance.  Rarely do I make time to write.  I just don’t have that luxury.

I know a fellow writer who has published three books from a large publishing firm.  Each book has gone into mass paperback production.  I consider her a successful writer.  She wakes very early in the morning and begins writing until she realizes she still in her nightgown or pajamas or that she has not eaten breakfast or lunch.  I admire her stamina but I sure don’t want to be like that.  I am very proud of my friend for her success and wish for her the freedom to enjoy that success. 

My love for writing comes from the desire to speak the truth of what I hear, feel, experience, and dream.  I write for myself when I write a poem or something in my journal.  I write for my family when I share a memory of a special event and incident that touches my heart.  I write for the public when I find a story that needs to be told and remembered.  I can’t say, “Today, you will write about…..this or that.”  I just sit down to my computer or trusty notebook and start writing.

When my six-year-old granddaughter, Paige was two we took a walk around the block one afternoon.  She saw a flower and I saw a dandelion weed.  The result was this poem:

A Gift of Love

What does she see that I can’t?

Squatting down close to the ground,

she reaches for something.

Is it a tiny bug or a special rock?

Her two-year-old eyes are shining bright.

And the smile on her face shows her excitement.

I fall on my knees so that I can see too.

I ask her, “What do you see?”

She lifts her chin and responds, “Flower.”

A weed to me but a flower to her.

She reaches down and tries to pick it.

So I help her and together we pick the flower.

She stands and puts it under her nose.

On my knees, we are face to face.  Then without

hesitation she hands her flower to me.

“For me,” I ask?  She smiles nodding her head.

I look into her loving eyes and take her precious gift.

What does she see?  A flower.

What do I see?  A gift of love.

I hope I never stop writing and that I never take my writing so seriously that I stop loving what I’m doing.

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Something to be Proud Of

How does one write a non-fiction book and use creative writing techniques?  My co-author Mary Scott Norris and I asked ourselves that question when we made a proposal to Arcadia Publishing.

It began when I was approached by Arcadia to do a history of the Town of Signal Mountain for their Image of America Series.  Not having any knowledge of the Town’s history, I approached fellow writer Mary Scott because she was the assistant librarian at the Town Library.  She also served on the town historical committee, and more importantly she wrote an excellent historical column in the local paper, The Signal Mountain Mirror.

Together we researched and gathered hundreds of pictures, scanned them, organized them, and documented their source.  Schools, churches, libraries, museums, and local families were among our sources.  But it became clear from the start that Mary Scott and I did not want to publish a book of pictures with captions.  Both writers, we wanted to tell a story.  And so our journey began as we took nine months to write words that told the history of our town.

We didn’t make anything up; we didn’t stray from our desire to stay focused on the truth.  Along the way we learned a lot, met some very nice people, and believe in our hearts that our book is a valuable contribution to the residents of Signal Mountain.  I was reminded of that when I got a check, albeit small, that the book is still selling; after all history doesn’t change.  The book still makes a fine addition to a home library, a nice gift for a favorite teacher or grandparent or relative that grew up in the town.

Even if I don’t live in the Town of Signal Mountain anymore, I’m proud I took nine months of my life to produce the book.  I’m sure Mary Scott agrees with me.  We gained a friend in each other and we put down in writing a local history like no one had done before.  That is something to be proud of.

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It is What it Is

Today’s posting was the hardest by far.  This is because I was traveling by plane from Atlanta to Beaufort, SC to visit my daughter and her family.  I thought I would write after I got to Atlanta but my daughter-in-law fixed a delicious dinner and my two-year-old grandson wanted my undivided attention.  No writing but I did post yesterday’s blog with him sharing the desk with me.  He was coloring as I typed.

I thought I had time to write while on the MARTA riding to the Atlanta Airport, but the train was packed at 8:00 in the morning and the stop and go was not good for writing.  Anyway, watching the people was a lot more fun.  The man in front of me kept falling asleep.  I couldn’t see him as he was wrapped in three layers of hooded fleece and a baseball cap.  He woke only when he fell sideways onto the seat next to him or once when he fell forward and hit his head on the seat in front of him.

I just knew I’d be able to write a blog while waiting for my plane but it took me forever to find the terminal and gate that my plane was taking off from.  Then the attendant announced that the plane was full would anyone like to check their baggage and pick it up at baggage claim in Charlotte.  I passed knowing I had a short layover.  I thought they would take my take-on luggage before I got on the plane, but no.  We had to put our luggage in the overhead bins.

Zone five and I was worried I would not have room by the time I got the back of the plane.  When I spotted room over isle seven I grabbed it, but I needed help lifting it over my head.  The first man I made eye contact with was blind.  The good news was another man came to my aid.  This was not going well, and I wasn’t getting any writing done.  I arrived at terminal B and needed to be at D and so hiked across the Charlotte airport making my gate as it boarded.  Fifteen minutes later I’m in Savannah and my daughter is picking me up.

We meet her husband and the two granddaughters, three and 8 months at the Port Royal Festival by the Sea seven hours after I started my day in Atlanta.  I realize suddenly that I could have driven and gotten here sooner, but when the three-year-old ran and leaped into my arms and the baby grabbed my fingers and smiled the smile every grandmother wishes for, all thoughts of writing or traveling went out the window.

Dinner is ready, a cold beer is waiting for me and the sun is setting over the live oak trees lining the street.  I remind myself that I write because I love to write and today I wrote about my day.  The only writing was this blog, but as my son is famous for saying around our family, “It is what it is.”

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It’s Not About the Money

I consider myself a freelance writer however I do not have a collection of magazines or newspapers that I write for.  This does not mean I don’t try.  But I’m finding it more common these days to not get paid for an article than to get paid.  And then the money is minimal if that.

A friend who is an excellent writer also considers herself a freelance writer.  She is fortunate enough to have a regular column in a bi-monthly magazine.  When she questioned a cutback in her check for the column, her editor said, “Be glad you got paid at all, in this economy.”

I have another friend that will not write without being paid, and she refuses to participate in a writers group.  This is because she feels it takes away from her time writing.  That’s another story.  But refusing to write for nothing seems a bit self-destructive, in my opinion.  Does she think her work is only good if she gets paid for it?  Does she value her self-worth by writing only for money?  How sad, if so.

I write because I love to write.  I need the money, but I’m not going to stop writing or sharing my stories with a writers group just because I’m not being paid for every article I write.  And I’m not going to stop interviewing people who have a story to tell.  I am a seeker and love the thrill of interviewing a person of interest, another writer, an artist, a teacher, a politician, a veteran, an actress, an administrator, and entrepreneur (all of which I have written about) and so on……and every once in a while you get the cover story as I did in a recent Catoosa Life Magazine.

It’s not about the money; it’s about the love of writing.

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