People and places

Hi, all —

I’ve been thinking more about characters, and how to inject authentic regionalisms into yours. That is, how to make a character sound and act like he or she is a product of a specific place and culture.

To that end, I read journalist/writer/speaker/all around awesome woman Caitlin Kelly’s blog today, and it seemed to resonate with what I’ve been mulling. Her latest blog is about defining “New York-ism.” That is, what defines someone as a New Yorker? And then she lists several things that New Yorkers might say and do, and the reasons behind them. Go have a look. See what you think.

And keep reading, if you want to see where the hell I’m going with this. 😀

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So you want to be a writer. Bless your heart.

Hi, folks–

I’ll be on the road in the next few days, so I won’t be able to check in as often as I’d like. But DON’T WORRY! I’ll be back, and probably with some tales to tell.

Anyway, I follow Broadside (because it’s an awesome blog. Hello.) and today, Caitlin Kelly (the woman who does Broadside) had a super good post about what it takes to be a writer. READ IT. Not that I’m pushing you or anything.

She didn’t use the term “stubborn,” but I sure will (Caitlin used “persistence”). Because that’s important. You must be stubborn and stick to it, if it’s what you want to do. And you must continue to do it, in the face of what some days feels like you’re wearing a pair of concrete cowboy boots in a shit tornado. In spite of these things, you must persevere, if this is what you want to do.

You will be rejected (and some of those will hurt). You will be dissed on the interwebs (and you must not respond). You will submit your work a gajillion times and only one of those times may garner you a notice. But it may not land you a contract. You must, as Caitlin points out, have a hide the thickness of a fossilized dinosaur’s (okay, she’s more eloquent) but the sensitive heart of a Bambi-eyed puppy. You must suck it up and smile, even when you’re in the middle of that poo typhoon, and exhibit graciousness and humility because people remember what you say and do. Readers like to know that you’re not some cranky-ass sodden heap of negativity spewing thunderbolts of judgment at everybody who wanders across your time/space continuum. And if you are, readers remember. Hell, everybody remembers. Why bring that on yourself?

And, a couple of my favorites from Caitlin: be curious, and be generous. I’m intensely curious about everything and everyone. How could you not be? The world is an endlessly fascinating place and we are a totally mondo-bizarro species doing all kinds of wild stuff. I also like giving of my time and energy to others, because you never know who you’ll meet. Plus, it’s just good ju-ju to share the love.

Caitlin also supplies some links to other blogs about what it takes to be a writer. Check those out. And here are a couple I liked.

(the always irreverent and happy sailor-mouthed) Chuck Wendig’s 25 things he wants to say to aspiring writers

And another Chuck post about things writers lie about to themselves

And here’s Chuck’s secret to writing:

source (re-sized here, and he did register it with a Creative Commons license, so share away!)

An ordinary, extraordinary life

Hi, folks–

Major hat tip to Caitlin Kelly, whose blog, “Broadside,” I follow. She posted about an amazing article from the Toronto Star. Or rather, a wonderful tribute to a woman who loved and lived fiercely, and who touched many lives.

Here’s the direct link to this astonishing piece of writing and journalism, this rumination over a woman’s life through those left behind. A reporter at the Star became interested in Shelagh Gordon through her obituary, and decided to find out more about her. The Star interviewed more than 100 friends and family members, to show how a seemingly ordinary life can have an incredible impact.

I’ve posted the beginning below, but please do click the above link to read the rest of it.

“Shelagh was here–an ordinary, magical life”
by Catherine Gordon

I met Shelagh Gordon at her funeral.

She was soap-and-water beautiful, vital, unassuming and funny without trying to be. I could feel her spirit tripping over a purse in the funeral hall and then laughing from the floor.

She was both alone and crowded by love. In another era, she’d have been considered a spinster — no husband, no kids. But her home teemed with dogs, sisters, nieces, nephews and her “life partner” —a gay man — who would pass summer nights reading books in bed beside her wearing matching reading glasses.

Her relationships were as rich as the chocolate pudding pies she’d whip together.

She raced through ravines, airports and wine glasses (breaking them, that is). She dashed off dozens of text messages and emails and Facebook postings a day, usually mistyping words in her rush to connect.

Then, every afternoon, she’d soak for an hour in the bath while eating cut-up oranges and carrots and flipping the damp pages of a novel.

She called herself a “freak,” at first self-consciously and, later, proudly.

But my sharpest impression of Shelagh that day, as mourners in black pressed around me, was of her breathtaking kindness. Shelagh was freshly-in-love thoughtful.

Godspeed, Ms. Gordon. The world is a richer place for you having been in it. May we all live ordinary, magical lives.