The Season of Creativity

March 23, 2014 by

This winter has been exceptionally cold in many parts of the States, so cold in fact that the words polar vortex will, from now on, describe arctic like winters. Miserable for the people, these icy days offered gorgeous winter photos opportunities.

Instead of frigid temperatures many Europeans countries have survived rainfalls that turned into legendary floods.

Ask anyone from the United Kingdom and from my native France. They were ready to build a new Noah’s Ark.

After such winters, the expectation for spring is high and almost palpable.

I feel it through the posts that land in my inbox.

Clean as a freshly plowed piece of land, hopeful as a calf standing up, promising as the first daffodils, these blog posts carry the signs of change and hope.

In the end, spring is all about the awakening of nature.

More subtle here in California, spring is sometimes so fugitive than most people will tell you that we have one rainy and one dry seasons.

The geography of a new country is rarely considered to be a destabilizing factor in the life of an immigrant.

And yet the decoding of the American landscape, its vastness and brutal weather patterns in comparison to France, have been for me as challenging and fascinating as the discovery of a new culture and the acquisition of a new language.

This year winter came early in the Sierra, accompanied by unusual November snowstorms that we misinterpreted for an upcoming rainy season.

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In fact, this winter has been very dry, and drought has a mean paw.

Premature life.

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Premature death.

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Although Yosemite has received very little precipitation, Glacier Road and Tioga Pass, the two roads that give access to the most interesting parts of the park, are still closed. So while the energy of spring bounces off blogs, I tame my impatience until my next hike in the high country.

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Spring, associated with un-cluttering, cleaning, and cleansing, is also a time of evaluation for artists and writers.

Mixed reviews accompany the assessment of my personal winter writing.

I am a winter child, born late in the year, and I do my best work during the short, dark days of winter. When winter has only been a word on the calendar I feel cheated.

The publication of my middle grade novel is delayed, mostly because of jobs’ obligations that stole more time and energy that I had anticipated, but also because I never felt quite anchored to the season.

Now that I reflect on the impact of seasons on human creativity, I am less surprised that it took me time to choose a title for this novel. In the end it is not coincidental that I decided on A Year in Château Roche.

Despite the absence of winter and an elusive spring in California, summer will come. This year, for the first time ever, all of my children will be studying and working away from home during the months of July and August.

This realization fills me with unexpected hope.

Could the long, sunny days of summer replace the short, dark days of a missed winter?

Now, tell me…

Did you take advantage of snow days to work on specific projects or has this unusual winter had a toll on your creativity?

Do seasons impact your creative work and your life in general?

Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: ,

In Honor of Dr. Seuss

March 3, 2014 by

In a recent attempt to organize our crowded family bookshelves, I’ve spent delightful hours going from one book to another. Each one of them telling me of a family moment.

In the end what I had predicted happened: I was unable to part from most.

Among the ones I couldn’t give away: the complete collection of Dr. Seuss.

All of my children loved his books, but one of them taught herself how to read with Dr. Seuss when she started kindergarten.

It was probably meant to be that one of my first public events related to the publication of my novel happened last year on Dr. Seuss’s Day, also called Read Across America Day.

Enjoy today. Read a book.

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: ,

Living Isn’t a Waste of Writing Time

March 1, 2014 by

Last week, one of my friends shared with me her worries about finding enough time to write, now that she is visiting her children all over California and even out of state.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I absolutely love spending time with them. I just worry about the waste of writing time.”

“Living isn’t a waste of writing time,” I said instinctively, wanting to reassure her.

Later, I thought about what I said, hoping I had been right.

Exactly a month ago I posted about my own writing doubts. Halfway through the draft of a new manuscript, I was stuck. I questioned the point of the story. Before long I convinced myself that I would never finish it.

The post triggered some encouraging and practical comments.

Writers and artists shared their own moments of doubt and a few suggested a break, sometimes necessary to rekindle the desire to finish a project.

Why not? I thought. What’s the point of sitting in front of a screen for no satisfaction?

I hit the pause button and didn’t work on the story at all. Instead I blogged more often, especially in French, something I had done less regularly than in English. I visited more blogs, liked more posts, commented on more posts, followed more blogs.

I also read a lot. Although I found many books so well written and compelling that they fed my anxiety – how would I ever write something so good? – I enjoyed the abandon and read for the sheer pleasure of the story.

I had coffee with friends. I watched movies. I listened to music. I walked. I cooked. I baked. I gardened.

I lived.

A few weeks passed, and one morning as I scanned my inbox I noticed that my novel Trapped in Paris had received additional reviews on Goodreads and Amazon.

Then from her Summerhouse Sherri nominated me for the Seven Awards.

I had just posted about not deserving special treatment. My reward for blogging is when you stop by to visit.

Yet these small, nice gestures were powerful, as small, nice gestures always are.

In my case these reviews and awards nominations kicked me.

That very same day I returned to my new story and wrote an entire chapter. At night I shut down my computer with anticipation for tomorrow.

Later I thought of my attempt to reassure my friend. I had been right after all.

Living isn’t a waste of writing time.

A few of you already knew that art feeds on life and that taking a break is okay.

I owe you a thank you.

The tree below has bloomed – it seems to me – overnight, right after the first real rainstorm of the season, here in California.

On March 1, I find it to be a perfect symbol of the upcoming spring, the season of renewal and hope.

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life

Waiting to Share World Book Night

February 9, 2014 by

When I was very new in the USA I took a decision that would change my life.

I had always been an avid reader, so while my one-year-old was napping I traded Le Monde for The San Francisco Chronicle and Libération for The San Jose Mercury News. In addition I read the free papers that back in the 90s I could find all over the San Francisco Bay.

With the help of my French English dictionary I searched for the words I didn’t understand and wrote them with their translation in a notebook. When I think of this period of time, I remember being tired but also determined. Sometimes I wish to be as focused and relentless as I was.

Even for the news junkie I am, the newspapers could be a little boring. Since I had no money I spent a lot of time at the public library. One day as I was choosing picture books for my little girl, I saw a sign on a table:

“Librarian’s picks.”

I had learned that “librarian” was my French “bibliothécaire” while “bookseller” was my “libraire.”

I assumed that a pick was a good book.

Meanwhile my daughter got a little impatient, so I grabbed the first book on the table.

At home I read the picture book to my daughter. I always translated the story in French because I didn’t want my child to catch my accent, so it always took longer than it should have.

When she was finally asleep I started Waiting to Exhale by Terry McMillan.

Back then I had no idea that Ms. McMillan was an African American author who wrote urban fiction.

I had no idea what these words meant.

In all honesty the novel wasn’t the kind I used to read in France. But two significant events happened with this book.

For the first time I was able to read without the constant support of my dictionary.

Then the author came to town for a signing.

I had to go. I went.

It was one of the saddest days in my new American life.

I didn’t get a single word during the author’s event.

Nothing. Rien.

I left, embarrassed, sad, ashamed, discouraged. You get the picture.

Outside night had fallen, and the sky had filled with countless stars.

I would have given anything to be back in Paris. But since my husband was working in the Bay Area and I had no intention to leave him my only choice was to get my act together. I didn’t wish upon a star but made the promise to work harder and to become fluent in English.

Although neither Terry McMillan nor urban fiction is my favorite author and genre, I’ve never forgotten the book that ignited my decision.

In the fall, while attending a literary event, I bumped into James Tyner, the Poet Laureate for the city of Fresno for the next two years. While he read his poems and told of his job as a librarian in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Fresno, I knew his branch was the perfect place to give books away on World Book Night.

I prepared my application and when I saw that Waiting to Exhale was on the list of books to give on April 23, I knew it had to work.

When James told me that urban fiction was the favorite genre among his patrons and that Waiting to Exhale was regularly stolen, I could hardly contain my emotion.

Two days ago World Book Night sent me an e-mail:  I am in and twenty copies of Waiting to Exhale are mine to give away.

I don’t believe in destiny, only in possibilities and choices, but I like symbols.

On April 23, I will meet with a group of people who live in an underserved neighborhood and are socially and economically challenged.

In appearance there is little in common between them and me.

But Waiting to Exhale.

If only I can summon the overwhelming emotions that followed that freaking signing event, I’ll be able to convey the invaluable impact of a book on a life.

Now, your turn.

Are you a giver on World Book Night 2014? Have you been in the past? Has a book played a significant role in your life?

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Filed Under: Latest Post Tagged With: , , , , ,

Giving an Encore to Older Blog Posts

February 2, 2014 by

One of the most challenging goals for a blogger is to bring fresh material to each post.

That’s why the re-blog button was created, I suppose.

When bloggers use this function they re-blog their most popular posts.

They respond to an “Encore” from their readership.

In the English section of my French English Larousse dictionary, the definition of “Encore” takes one line but two long columns in the French section.

In fact “Encore” in French can mean, among many other things, “Not again!”

If I served the same dinner twice in a row at home my kids might say: “Encore!”

I wouldn’t take it as a compliment.

Today, although aware of the French meaning of “Encore!” I take the chance to serve you older posts.

For two purposes:

1-    It’s not every year that I can eat crepes, wait for the Groundhog to see or not its shadow, and watch a football game.

2-    To analyze with a cold head the writing journey of a non-native speaker.

Last year I wrote about the Superbowl.

That was my first Superbowl. We won’t watch this year because we won’t be home. In a way I’m glad.

First, my California friends who are football fans are disappointed that the 49ers lost and they hate (their own words) the Seahawks.

Then, I still don’t have an opinion on the subject. This sport remains strange to me and even though I went to the Berkeley stadium once for a game and felt a little more American after, I would lie if I said that I loved it. I enjoyed watching people, and it turned to be important for someone who doesn’t know the rules of the game. When people cheered, I cheered, when they stood up like one, I stood up too, when they booed, I booed. I just had to make sure I was watching the right people, the ones who wore the colors of my daughter’s school. That I could manage.

Last year I wrote about the American Groundhog versus the French Chandeleur.

A year ago I also wrote about the Chandeleur.

A few months ago I was offered the Liebster Award for my blogging. What I liked about it wasn’t really the award, which was a nice gesture from a fellow blogger, but the opportunity to explain why I blog.

Words are my tools to express my feelings and also share my dual identity.

Like a few other bloggers I write in two languages.

When I write in French, words flow naturally. It’s no accident that we call our native language “mother tongue.”

When I write in English, I don’t feel the same freedom. Yet.

The acquisition of a language is a complex process, a fascinating one, too.

I compare it to the stages experienced by a baby learning how to walk.

A baby falls and stands up. Again. Again. And again. Until reaching stability, then competence, and finally confidence.

Today when I searched for older posts related to the Chandeleur, Groundhog Day and Superbowl, it gave me the opportunity to re-read some of my early posts.

In the same way I want to throw away old manuscripts, delete files, I want to erase some of my posts.

And yet I won’t because they are steps along my writing journey toward confidence.

Today, for once, I didn’t create a post completely from scratch.

One task remains, though.

To write one in French.

Meanwhile I’m curious.

Are you a football fan? Do you care for the Groundhog or the Chandeleur? Do you like crepes?

More importantly, do you peek at your early blog posts? If you do, how do you feel about your journey?

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: , , , , ,

Antidote to Doubt

January 29, 2014 by

I have been experiencing a long period of doubt since I started my new YA manuscript a year ago.

Early on, my critique group offered some valid plot-related tips, but they implied significant changes. Call it discouragement or fear of failure. The result was that I dreaded the perspective of revision and change.

What is the point? Is the story even interesting? Will readers like it?

I took a break and did my very best to forget about this specific manuscript. Oh I was still writing. In fact, I completed the editing and copy-editing of my middle grade novel that will be published later in the spring, I wrote many blog posts in French and English, and I even started another project.

Although I pretended to be done with my manuscript, I wasn’t tranquil. The story and the characters were on my mind, especially the protagonist – a high school senior.

He spoke out loud when I was driving. He visited me at the most unexpected moments, especially when I was quiet, cooking or folding laundry. I did my best to push him back when his presence started to feel more and more real. One night he showed up in my dream.

I knew he wouldn’t leave me in peace.

So yesterday I dug through my Documents and clicked Open.

Let me tell you that I was far more annoyed than excited.

The anticipation of work wasn’t pleasant at all. I knew I would have to go back to the very beginning. I have typed one hundred and thirty pages and just couldn’t delete entire chapters, so I copied/pasted what I wouldn’t need in a New Blank Document. You never know.

I hated every minute of it. The realization that a manuscript needs serious work isn’t enjoyable. But I stayed in my chair – it helped a little that I got a nice one for Christmas – and forced myself to read from the first page to the last.

When I was finished I had clarified two important points:

1-    This first part of the story is too long (I plan to divide my story in three parts)

2-    The characters deserve a chance to live

However, the task ahead of me still freaked me out and doubt was still bothering me. Same old questions.

What is the point? Is the story even interesting? Will readers like it?

I took a short break and checked my Inbox.

The title of Mona’s latest post caught my eye and made my heart beat faster:

Do You Believe in Yourself?

First a small smile grew inside me, and then renewed energy flowed through my entire body when I visited the website that Mona had linked to her post.

Yes, we are alone when we write.

Yes, we doubt of our voice or of our characters’ voice.

Yes, writing is difficult.

Yes, we have to do it ourselves.

When living these moments of doubt we need a little bit of help. And nothing can be better than:

1-    A positive blog post

2-    Writers’ hands to lead us along the creative path

3-    Messages of encouragement from writers who have been there.

What do you do when you are afraid, lonely and you doubt of your words? What is your andidote?

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: ,

Getting Your (and My) Ask Out There

December 14, 2013 by

One of Bob Baker’s articles posted on The Book Designer has recently caught my attention.

To Succeed as an Author, Get Your ASK out There!

Hum, hum, I thought.

Although all writers I know are people-persons, I don’t know many who are comfortable with pushing their book into the hands of potential readers and buyers.

On the other hand, most writers don’t have a problem talking about books they like and about writers who deserve to be read.

So I thought I would ask you to pay a visit to the following writers who in addition to their blogs have also published a book in the last twelve months.

The 228 Legacy

By Jennifer J. Chow

This book held the ingredients that instinctively draw me to a story: family saga told through three generation women, people torn between two languages and cultures, the first novel of a young writer. So it made sense for me to read it.

But I wasn’t expecting to learn about the history of Taiwan. We all belong to a place that shapes us. Jennifer has successfully linked a personal event to a page of Taiwan’s history. And added Jack, an interesting male character, to the classic trio of women.

You can read more about Jennifer and her writing on her blog.

Rise of the Writer: Writing and Marketing Like a Pro in the 21st Century

By Joe Warnimont

Writers of all genres will find helpful tips in this practical and honest book.

Practical because Joe provides clear and specific tips on how to write and market in the 21st century.

Honest because he doesn’t pretend that it is easy or will produce instant results.

Joe has managed to write a book for writers who aren’t high tech experts but are aware of the importance of social media and online presence. I wasn’t looking for writing help, but you will find helpful tips in this area as well, and also humorous nuggets on how to live a healthy writer’s lifestyle.

Written in an approachable voice that makes his blog enjoyable, Joe offers a little book that will give you big ideas on how to `rise as a writer.’

You can read more about Joe and his writing on his blog.

Love for Now

By Anthony Wilson

This very personal memoir offers a glimpse of a life transformed by cancer. The fear, the physical pain, the ups and downs, the support of friends and family, the clumsiness of acquaintances, the care provided by nurses and doctors: everything is documented as in a journal.

It could be too much, yet I found the memoir deeply positive. Friend’s visits, descriptions of the seasonal changes – yes, life goes on even when we are very ill – of food cravings – funny and touching at the same time – of poems and TV shows, which accompany Anthony as he goes through his treatment and his warm and realistic relationship with his wife and children – I have a weakness for the boy, the youngest – all touched me because it comes from the heart of someone who loves life.

Because Anthony is British, there is also a lot of humor – never hurts, especially in a book that tells of living with cancer. There are also beautiful sentences throughout the book. It is no surprise, though, as Anthony is also a poet.

This little book should be left in oncologists’ waiting rooms.

You can read more about Anthony and his writing on his blog.

Well, I thought when I was finished, I’m not so sure I‘ve followed Bob Baker’s advice.

But do I really have to ask people to check out my book?

Okay, I’ll do it.

You can read what other readers wrote about Trapped in Paris on Goodreads where you are welcome to add a review, too. If, like me, you are a late holiday shopper and still have a gift to make to a young teen in your life, a book is a great choice.

A printed and electronic version of my novel are available on Amazon, but your bookseller can order it through their distributor as well.

Phew, I really got my ASK out there.

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Trapped in Paris, Uncategorized, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: , , , ,

Between Promise and Anxiety

November 30, 2013 by

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The fragrances of nutmeg, sage, cooked pumpkin and cranberries linger in the kitchen. I take my mug of tea on the deck. Here in my small, quiet corner of California the air is crisp but the sun warm on my skin. A squirrel digs frantically behind the rosemary bush and a family of quails scatter away. The native oaks haven’t lost their leaves yet and the big cloudless western sky spreads above my head.

This long Thanksgiving weekend foreshadows the upcoming holiday season when the happy padding of my children’s young feet in the hallways and stairs bring renewed energy to every room of the house.

The high-pitched voices of much younger kids playing in the neighborhood scare the humming birds hovering above the birdbath.

The turmoil of the world is distant and almost inexistent.

Last night as my family gave thanks around a dinner, we all knew we have a lot to be thankful for.

And today as I mentally check the leftovers for our extended family dinner, I think that the day after Thanksgiving is in some ways similar to the beginning of a new year.

Full of promise and anxiety.

The turkey was perfectly roasted and the purees smoothly mashed. The pumpkin pie was silky and the table beautiful under the candlelight.

The promise of a lovely family dinner has been reached.

But now I can’t help anxiety to hum its pessimistic note.

Where we will we be a year from today?

Will we be as healthy and as joyful?

I think of my writing, too.

What will I have accomplished a year from today?

Will I have honed my skills?

Exactly a year ago, I was releasing my novel Trapped in Paris and was having my first signing on Small Business Day at my local bookshop.

I had planned for another book in the fall.

But my unexpected summer trip to France to bury my father, the mourning of a great dad, and the regular complexity of life have derailed my plans. My next novel for middle graders will be released in the first part of 2014.

I have also doubted a lot while writing the first draft of a new novel.

Is this story really worth telling? Will I be able to create with words the scenes I have in mind? How can I write fresh metaphors and avoid clichés? How to make sure I’m not sending my own message through my fictional characters?

I have also been lazy.

This draft should be down by now.

I have also lived on a roller coaster with my memoir manuscript, which is currently circulating for a second round of reading in a California based publishing company.

My mug of tea is cold by now and I retrieve inside to brew a new pot.

I go through the pictures I took over the last two days.

This sky:
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These trees:

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Calm fills me.

Somehow I will find a way to balance promise and anxiety.

Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing in a foreign language, Writing life Tagged With: , , ,

More Than One Side to a Story

November 22, 2013 by

If you think that you’ve found a great idea for a novel, worked on a suspenseful plot, developed likeable characters, a unique setting, chances are that someone somewhere is writing a similar story.

It has happened to every writer. You submit a picture book manuscript to hear that the editor has just accepted a story just like yours, so she has to decline. You have the perfect topic for a biography and boom another writer has just been offered a contract for the same bio.

Until it happens to you, you feel for your writer friend who tell you how disappointed she is and you comfort her the best you can.

But when you read the brief synopsis of a YA fiction novel that sounds so familiar that you think this is my synopsis, you respond with your guts and clichés.

First you gasp. You have been hit in the stomach.

Then your heart starts pounding. Adrenaline rushes through your body.

Finally you start your grieving journey.

1-    Denial.

Impossible. It can’t be. It’s a bad dream.

2-    Anger.

You blame the writer who got your idea. Then you blame yourself. You’ve been lazy. Someone else has reached the final line while you plowed your way through your first draft.

3-    Doubt.

Have you lost your capacity to write anything original? Is your work useless? Are you done with writing?

4-    Acceptance.

Ideas are in the air, related to your period of time. Millions share your concerns. Millions think like you. So it makes perfect sense that for each idea you have someone else has the same.

5-    Hope.

The joy and suffering, the doubt and elation that you experienced and sustained you, day after day, while you wrote, why wouldn’t they come back? It is only up to you to make it happen. Again.

Of course it is easier to write about these strong emotions than it is to act.

On Wednesday as I was trying to figure out what to do with my story, I attended an author event.

Tim Egan, the author of seven books, came to the valley to talk about one of them: The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl.

The Dust Bowl has deep resonance here in Central California where thousands of Oklahoma people settled after leaving despair behind.

In addition to the historical importance of his book, Egan interested me as a writer. He said that he knew there was a story to write when he realized that American textbooks were covering the Dust Bowl tragedy in a short paragraph and always from the perspective of the people who fled.

So unlike Steinbeck who wrote about the ones who left, Egan chose to write about the ones who stayed behind and survived through the Dust Bowl.

There are at least two sides to the same story, he insisted, and it is necessary to tell the side less traveled. There are also different ways to tell the same story.

My novel idea was obviously not unique. Does it mean that there is only one story for one idea? I’m still saddened and undecided, but I have moved beyond my initial visceral reaction and I am contemplating the future of my draft.

Like roses come in different colors and shapes, offering a palette of fragances, stories based on the same idea have more than one side.

And there are also more than one way to tell them.

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing for Children, Writing life Tagged With: , , ,

Tuesday Blues

November 13, 2013 by

Is it because we had a three-day weekend, because the California sky was unusually gloomy, because I woke up too early – we had a power outage last night and our clocks got mixed up – or because I am putting the final touches to my middle grade novel?

I have felt restless and unproductive all day. Unable to write anything that could even remotely express my feelings.

Among the bloggers I read a few are poets. I admire their ability to convey in a few lines, sometimes a few words, their complex emotions, inaccessible dreams, inexplicable fears, invincible hope, and infinite love.

When I read their poems they become mine. Poets, better than fiction writers, are the spokesmen and spokeswomen of the collective human condition.

I used to write poems when I lived in France. I never wrote any since I moved to the US. Not even in French.

Tonight I found a poem by Georgia Douglas Johnson, which captures to the perfection my Tuesday blues. How can poems whisper so eloquently to our souls?

My Little Dreams

I’m folding up my little dreams

   Within my heart tonight,

And praying I may soon forget

   The torture of their sight.

 

For time’s deft fingers scroll my brow

   With fell relentless art—

I’m folding up my little dreams

   Tonight, within my heart.

Tomorrow is another day.

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Filed Under: Latest Post, Writing life Tagged With: ,
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