Snooker for stories...

One of the questions I hear frequently from aspiring writers is, “How do I start a story?” Even seasoned writers have days when the story won’t come. In an interview in Intrview Magazine in 1995, Martin Amis said of novel-writing, “If I come up against a brick wall, I’ll just go and play snooker or something or sleep on it, and my subconscious will fix it for me.” Good advice, for sure. But if snooker and the subconscious don’t do it for you, here are a few tips to get you going.

• You can begin “in medias res,” or in the middle of the action. When you’re telling a friend a story, you rarely begin with, “I was born in such-and-such hospital in such-and-such city.” Rather, you jump forward to the exciting part, the middle of the action of your own life. “I was standing in front of the old movie theater on Amsterdam Avenue when…”

• You can begin with a character in a strange or tense situation (Gregor Samsa wakes up as a cockroach in “The Metamorphosis”, Mersault is on trial for murder in “The Stranger”).

• You can begin with a line or two that describes the setting, then move on to who is in the setting, and why.

• You can begin with a writing prompt that takes you somewhere totally unexpected. Try one of these.

• You can begin with an inciting action: a man on vacation jumps off a cliff into the cold water below, and as he is jumping we see a large rock jutting up from the surface of the water.

• You can begin with a phrase, an image, a place, a memory, a character who demands to be heard.

• You can begin by withholding information. A great example of an opening paragraph that sets up tension by withholding information is Shirley Jackson’s classic short story, “The Lottery.” It begins with a sentence about the setting, then moves on to describe the townspeople gathering for an event. In the happiness of the opening paragraph, it is clear that something is about to happen; that something turns out to be quite terrible and dramatic. Here’s the opening paragraph.

The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o’clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o’clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.

• A story can begin anywhere, but the most important thing about the beginning of a story is that it draw the reader in by introducing both character and conflict.

Did you find this page helpful? You might like Where Stories Begin: A Workbook for Writers.

courtesy of WFMU

An article by Roland Rotz, Ph.D., in ADDitude Magazine this month claims you shouldn’t fight the fidget, especially when it comes to children with ADHD:

Doing two things at once, it turns out, can actually help focus the ADHD brain on a primary task.

Experts believe that engaging in an activity that uses a sense other than what’s required for your primary task — listening to music while reading a social studies textbook, for example — can enhance focus and improve performance in children with attention deficit disorder. These secondary tasks are called fidgets — mindless activities you can do while working on a primary task.

Rotz recommends walking, moving around, doodling, using multicolored pens and pencils, keeping your hands busy, listening to music, and chewing gum.

I think anyone–with or without ADHD–can benefit from a bit of creative fidgeting. When I’m stuck in a novel I’m writing, it always helps to get up and move around. When we lived in the Outer Richmond in San Francisco, I used to take long walks on Ocean Beach (well, yes, that does sound like a personal ad, but I did!), and I never came home from one of those walks without a few paragraphs in my head. Something about the zen aspect of moving with no invited noise–I never wear headphones when I walk, so the noise was that of the waves and water, and the hum of traffic on the Great Highway–intensified my focus, such that I would write in my mind as I walked, repeating the sentences in order to memorize them.

I say “invited noise” because, while noise is inescapable, we don’t have to invite it in. Turning off the headphones when you’re running or walking, or turning off the TV when you’re on the treadmill, or turning off the radio in the car, is a way of keeping the endless, not-so-ambiant noise at bay. Of course, one of the fidgeting activities recommended in the ATTitude article is listening to music–so it really depends on the person. My husband always listens to music when he’s writing or reading, and it works for him, but anything with words completely stumps me, because the words crowd out the ones I’m trying to write down. That’s why I can’t write in cafes, which is a method some of my writer friends swear by.

Think about your own creative process. Are there any kinds of fidgeting you do that bring you focus?

The McStay family went missing from their home in Falbrook, CA, in February of 2010. Joseph McStay, 40, and his wife Summer, 43, apparently left home in their Isuzu Trooper on the night of February 4 with their two children–Gianni, 4, and Joseph, Jr., 3. Aside from a call Joseph made to one of his co-workers that night, the family has never been heard from again.

There was no sign of forced entry or struggle at the home, which the family had only recently moved into. On February 8, the Trooper was towed from a strip mall parking lot within walking distance of a pedestrian crossing into Mexico. The police scoured video footage from the crossing that night, and concluded that one group of people walking across the border–a man holding the hand of a small boy, followed by a woman holding the hand of another small boy–could very well have been the McStay family. The woman is wearing boots and jackets similar to ones owned by Summer, but family members say the man is too tall and thin to be Jospeh McStay.

While detectives believe the family may have willingly traveled to Mexico–based in part upon an internet search conducted at the home about children visiting Mexico–the fact that they did not return seems to indicate foul play. The family left $40,000 in their personal checking and savings accounts, money which has not been accessed since their disappearance. Joseph also had $65,000 in a business account, and the small withdrawals that have been made from that account are business expense withdrawals conducted by employees. The McStays maintained close relationships with Joseph’s parents, his brother, and Summer’s sister, and Joseph was also very close to his 14-year-old son by a previous marriage. Family members insist they would never abandon their loved ones intentionally. They also left behind two dogs, beloved family pets.

Joseph’s brother Mike maintains a website with information and updates. Anyone with information about the case is being urged to call deputies at 858-974-2321 or 858-565-5200 after-hours. Tips can also be called in anonymously to CrimeStoppers at 888-580-TIPS(8477).

Their story was featured in May on Vanished with Beth Holloway. View the episode here. View family photos here.Joseph’s youtube channel, last updated in January of 2010, includes cute family videos of the kids experimenting in the kitchen while the parents look on encouragingly, among other ordinary family happenings. The impression one gets in the videos is of a loving, ordinary family–certainly not parents who plan to abandon their lives, bank accounts, and home for a new start South-of-the border.

Maybe you've made a resolution to downsize and declutter in 2012. If you're like me, you've made this resolution every year for the past ten years. You keep planning to throw stuff away, but never get around to it. You keep planning to stop shopping, but then you see that stunning pair of shoes, and you forget. 

Guilty but necessary pleasure: I don't plan to stop buying books. (That would be hypocritical, since I certainly hope that the good readers of the world will keep buying mine.) Buy the Joy of Less from your local bookstore through indiebound--and when you're finished, pass it on.

I love even numbers, and I love 2s, and for that reason, I’m having a warm fuzzy feeling about 2012. This just might be the year I finally realize my long-set-aside goal of getting rid of the stuff I don’t need.

To keep myself honest, I’ll be blogging about my progress. If I don’t post for a while, you’ll know I haven’t gotten rid of anything. Please send me a note to get me back on my toes.

Completed minimalist tasks:

1. On Friday, I took a bag of toys and a bag of clothes to St. Vincent DePaul.
2. On Saturday, I put two itmes up for sale on Ebay. If they don’t sell, they’re going straight to the donation center.
3. Yesterday, my husband listed a few items on Craigslist for free or next to free:  a bathroom mirror we removed when we had the house painted in October, a fireplace mantel that was removed when we updated the ugly old 60s fireplace to a streamlined concrete one (okay, the new fireplace was a big expense, but I feel it was an expense that had value; just looking at the new fireplace makes us feel calm), and I took three boxes of towels and linens, a box of toys, and a bag of clothes to St. Vincent de Paul.
4. Last week, I organized the storage shelves in the hallway so that everything looks tidy and pretty, and the things we use are easy to find. Now the towels and linens are in their proper places, and my son’s tiny toys–all those things that end up on the floor and in drawers and in other toys’ boxes, where they can never be found–are in glass jars for easy viewing and access.
5. Another dilemma is books. Aside from the dozens of books I buy each year, and rarely cull, I keep a small store of my own books in reserve for readings that are not hosted by local bookstores. These copies are generally stacked willy-nilly around the house, and when I’m going to an event where I’m expected to bring my own books, I end up tearing apart the shelves at the last minute. Now, they’ve all found a their proper place in a tucked-away shelf of my home office, a room that I never actually use for writing, because it’s way too cold down there.

Toys, treasures, nostalgia, & minimalism:

I’m particularly happy about number 4, because minimalism, in my mind, isn’t just be about getting rid of anything and everything. It’s about editing: keeping the things your family really uses, the things that bring pleasure to you or your partner/spouse or your kids, and storing those things in plain sight. A home should be a story of who you are and how you live. Shoving everything into boxes in the closet might make for a more streamlined space, but it also denies you some of the simple joys of everyday living.

The plastic blocks, for example, are from my grandparents’ home in rural Mississippi. Seeing these reminds me of all the afternoons I spent on the floor with my cousins, putting little green men in the boxes. My son loves playing with them too, and he is excited when I sit on the floor with him, building shapes with the boxes, telling him stories of my own childhood. The Lincoln Logs in their see-through jar beg to be played with. The hot wheels never fail to come out when my son has a playdate. Yes, these are objects we could technically get rid of–a purist might say we need only one Hot Wheel, one set of building toys–but for me, toys that get me and my son down on the floor together, eye to eye, chatting and just being happy in the moment, are worth keeping.

There’s a great post by Molly over at the Green Apple Core about reading while not actually reading:

Last night, though, while reading what is so far a very good book in such an environment, I suddenly sat up straighter with a startled feeling, like I’d just come around a corner in my own brain and caught myself doing something that always makes me feel guilty…

Funny, I was just talking to my husband about a similar kind of experience the other day. I’d been reading a bedtime book to my son, and at one point my son asked me, “What just happened?” and I had no idea. It was a Roald Dahl book, and though I adore Roald Dahl, I had to go back several pages to get my bearings. Even the pictures didn’t ring a bell. In my mind I’d been playing out conversations from earlier in the day, making plans, etc.

Aside from the obvious fact that I was not being at all “in the moment,” what’s strange and even a little exciting to me about this experience is the fact that the mind manages to process the printed words themselves without absorbing meaning, while simultaneously processing  and analyzing an entirely different set of words and images…it’s as though there’s a parallel universe at work in the mind. The double-chambered brain. Which of course brings to mind all those theories about how little of our gray matter we actually use at any given moment. Could a single person, for example, work two jobs simultaneously–one in person and one remotely, by aid of some as-yet-undiscovered technology? Would it be possible to be completely tuned in and attentive to two different channels in the mind at the same time?

(Read about Dahl and his writing space in Robert Smedley’s post, The Curious Curios of Roald Dahl)