Cake: the ultimate metaphor

There's a certain amount of healthy egotism involved in being a successful author/artist/pastry chef. Not only do you need to believe in what you produce, your belief needs to shine through your craft in such a way that it is visible to other people.  It's an essential element in attracting an audience.      


strawberry cake by Kanko* @ Flickr



Look around. There are thousands of writers out there. Some of them write well, some of them badly, but they all believe they're providing something that is worth someone else's time to consume. We can't all be the next bestselling author, can we? Even if you baked the tastiest cake ever, if every other person at the morning tea has also baked a wonderful cake there's a chance yours might never get eaten. So how does a cake get chosen?  It might be a very ordinary cake that happens to have magnificent icing, or it might be baked by someone whose cake was memorable last time, or maybe everyone saw a similar cake on TV so they think this one will taste good too. The choice of cake is as individual as the people who are choosing it.  So too with writing.

So how does that choice happen?  How do I, as a writer, elevate my craft to the extent that it rolls deliciously off the page and straight onto my intended audience's tongue?

And does it really matter whether I sit here typing away and never make the moves to earn the readership?  Does it matter if I ensconce myself in a long and happy but solitary writing life? If all the work I've ever done slides quietly with me into the grave? 



Yes, it does. It matters to me. And the reason it does - besides a pathetic desire to rise above the ordinary - is because writing, for me, is about connection.  It's not about the cake in and of itself, but about the mysterious transaction that occurs when I invest my time and energy to create something of beauty, something that will nourish another person. And equally, it's about receiving that same gift from others. When I sit quietly, listening to a fellow writer read her work, I'm receiving something precious and true, that has spilled from the very essence of who they are.



This is true of all the great works that we have read - whether they were books, poems, essays, blog posts, letters, published or private. The connection allows us to perceive and honour the great truths and gifts of our lives, whether that is self-knowledge, healing, or simply the power of telling our stories and having them heard. It is so valuable that it is worth reaching through my inadequacies to embrace the necessary self-belief.  And to keep writing.  And sharing my cake.

What is it that motivates you to keep writing and sharing?



Shameless plea - Best Australian Blog

In my ongoing quest to not come last in the Sydney Writers' Centre Best Australian Blogs Competition 2012, I would like to advise that voting in the PEOPLE’S CHOICE round is officially open.

PEOPLE – this means YOU.

CHOICE – you have one. It’s obvious.  Pick Destination: denouement.

It’s easy. Click on the VOTE FOR ME NOW button which will take you to the Voting Page.  Put a tick in the box next to Destination: denouement about 4/5ths of the way down the first page.

You can select as many blogs as you like, but you can only submit the form ONCE – so make sure Destination: denouement is clicked if you want to include a vote for me.

You can also ask all your friends/family/random strangers to do the same, using the share buttons at the bottom of this post, or the Twitter hashtag #bestblogs2012.

  

Apparently there are 940 eager hopefuls in this round.  This means there is lots of fresh and fabulous blogging going on, so even if you don’t vote for me, take a look at the list because it’s a great way to discover some new blogs to love forever. 

Just what is blogging?

Further to my recent aspirations for Destination: denouement to become a Best Australian Blog, I am thrilled to hear there will be a FREE blogging workshop at the South Australian Writers' Centre in April.


"I CAN HAZ BLOG?!"
|indoor| by arquera @ Flickr

Just what is blogging?

The Media Resource Centre, the SA Writers Centre and the MHCSA are proud to present a workshop on blogging on the 17th of April 2012 (YAY!).  The event will be held in the atrium at the SA Writers Centre and feature key speakers Louise Pascale and Jane Howard from the Media Resource Centre (Interesting).

Editors and moderators from mindshare Sarah Reece and Steve Clark will also feature an introduction on getting started as a blogger on line.

In this new world of technology and the internet, ordinary individuals are allowed the space to speak up - online in cyberspace. With seemingly one of the hardest parts of being a blogger – capturing people’s interest and attention in the constantly busy world of the world wide web (That’s what I said!)

Is blogging something you would be interested in doing? (Yes) Does anyone actually read what you write (Maybe… not) or are you just sending things off into the electronic cyber sphere for your own amusement? (Actually, I do it for my virtual future imaginary fans) … As a writer should you bother to blog or not? (Yes.  Obviously).

The evening will cover topics such as 'What a blog is' and 'why some people blog'. You will get tips on how to develop a following and keep people interested as well as some basics on how to get started and work your way around a possibly confounding new electronic age.

Perfect.  In fact they could’ve called it “Blogging for the clueless newbie” and it wouldn’t be any more perfect for me.  (Ok, maybe I’m being a bit harsh on myself.  Destination: denouement is already FABULOUS.  Clearly.  But it would be even better with a readership).

I especially love that this is a community event, born out of a collaboration that aims to support mental health.  Writing is such a powerful tool, for self-expression, for creativity and for enhancing wellbeing.  I believe passionately in the healing power of telling our truths, and hearing those of other people.  Writing allows us to connect with each other energetically, regardless of whether we ever actually meet.  And blogging is an amazing platform for writing – its flexibility provides endless possibilities for unique expression. 

So, yes!  I will be there (with rings on my fingers and bells on my toes) for this very valuable (and I'll say it again, FREE) blogging workshop in Adelaide.  I suggest you get along to it, too.    

Best Australian Blog?

I’m thinking of entering this blog in a competition.  And not just any competition. The Sydney Writers’ Centre Best Australian Blogs Competition.

Destination: denouement – a Best Australian Blog?  How terribly vain.  But I’m heartened by an award category for blogs that are less than 6 months old.  Mostly because Destination: denouement’s newness is its overriding characteristic.  All those hardened blog veterans can’t wave a virtual candle at my level of inexperience and gauche disregard for the conventions of blogging.

The main convention I’ve been flouting* is the one that the competition refers to as engagement.  The popularity-club side of blogging.  I’ve seen it at work in the world of wildly successful mummy blogs, some of which are fabulous.  Others are entirely vacuous and equally popular.  I know it has a lot to do with linking and commenting on other blogs, pushing content across platforms, and riding the fickle wave of popular attention through its erratic three-second shifts.  I understand how soc-med platforms work, but I’m just not very good at it.  Yet.

I’m just as gangly and socially awkward in soc-med circles as I was when I was trying to unravel the mysteries of teenage popularity at school.  I don’t know which was worse – that I didn’t have a clue about popularity or that I didn’t really care.  Despite this insouciance, I shot to the dizzying heights of rock-stardom years later in a library studies course.  I had all the right accessories – ninja search engine skills, smoking hot Dewey Decimal reflexes, and a brown cardigan.  I was the library studies poster child, but this popularity was effortless, not derived from any conscious effort or strategy.  

Blog engagement, on the other hand, requires consistent effort and strategy.  And time.  Whereas I have a cake-eating elephant slowing me down.  The other competition criteria are the quality of writing, and presentation and usability. 



SWC Best Australian Blogs - judging criteria

I will be entering Destination: denouement in the “words and writing” category.  There is also a People’s Choice award, which I am also (hilariously) going to enter, mostly because the irony will have me cackling on the inside for weeks.  Because I’m pretty sure that entering this category at all diminishes my already tiny likelihood of success.  But if you happen upon this post, feel free to humour me with a vote.  Even if it’s only out of appreciation for my sheer contrariness.

All of which amounts to a not very good chance in the Best Australian Blogs competition.  But there are benefits to entering anyway.  Like the possibility that someone like you might actually wander along and stop by for a read.  So I’d better get the place looking tidy and make sure I’ve got the tea and biscuits ready when you do.

*ETA:  flouting ≠ flaunting, which is what I originally wrote.  Edit, people!

Hunger Games

I’ve been hearing people raving about this series for a while now.  Despite my YA antenna being so underdeveloped, and the book being slower to take off in Australia, the excitement about it leaked through to me a while ago.  It has been sitting on my towering pile of books to read for ages.  It took the imminent release of the movie to fire up my hunger enough to start reading.

Glad I did.  It is addictively good, and I found myself glued to the story much like the citizens of Panem are to the Games themselves.

What I love about The Hunger Games series is its resonance on so many layers of meaning and metaphor.  I devoured all three novels in quick succession, but I think they require another reading just to appreciate the craft of the subtext.  In fact, I’m looking forward to having a look at The girl who was on fire, a collection of commentaries by other YA authors.  There is plenty for an aspiring author to glean from The Hunger Games, because Collins does much with quite simple language.  She delivers an intricate story in very clear and quick writing.  Specifically, in short sentences.  Now, there’s something I could learn.

There is some lovely work in the story that ensures it will have wide appeal.  The hair/clothes/makeup in Capitol are richly painted, and the feasts are detailed for all the foodies out there.  I especially enjoyed the subleties of the character names and the added meaning they imparted - Peetr = Peter = Rock, steady, strong, versus Gale = tempestuous, changeable.  These names are woven all through the series (Snow, Trinket), but my favorite is Rue, because of the deep sorrow and regret that Katniss experiences as a result of their interaction.  The meaning of names has always fascinated me, and I just love it as a literary device.

I haven’t read much about Suzanne Collins’ writing process for this series, but there are some interesting shifts as the novels progress.  The writing in the first book is much sparer and tighter in its sentence structure than in the next two.  It is as if she finds her stride and starts to feel more comfortable to explore the expressive space inside the storyline.  There is progression too, from the very heavily plot-driven narrative of the first novel, to the series resolution which is nearly entirely psychological in nature.  She lures the reader from the bold, apparent facts of the story and into a more interior experience of the themes that she set out to explore. 

Despite having loved all three books equally, I will admit to denouement disappointment  in Mockingjay – I felt the finale was unnecessarily convoluted, and because of that it lost the fluidity and taut pacing that typified the previous resolutions.  However, credit should be given to Collins for creating a thought-provoking resolution, instead of the formulaic version which so often typifies both YA and speculative fic.

Suzanne Collins herself adapted the book for film, which makes me even keener to see it.  Her background is in screenwriting for children, and it has obviously served her well in developing both the experience and expertise to deliver a trilogy of this calibre.

Double life

“Writing is not apart from living. Writing is a kind of double living. The writer experiences everything twice:  once in reality and once more in the mirror which waits always before and behind [her].” ~ Donald Murray



Reflections (A) by camil tulcan @ flickr

Faulty?



English Electric Refrigerator Ad, 1950
by alsis35 @ flickr

So, the repairman is here, repairing our brand new fridge.  Why should a ten-day old fridge need repairing?  That’s the question I’ve asked, futilely, a number of times over the last 24 hours.  They should be replacing this “brand new” fridge, and not repairing it.  But the timing and a tide of unbending service staff are against me.



So, what do I do when the stress of an unsolvable problem hangs heavy upon me?  I open my pink laptop and I write. It’s an instant panacea for my woes.  Like a drug, I can feel the calm seeping again into my veins as I type.  The stress clutching at the back of my skull begins to unfurl and starts to slink away. 

Does this mean I’m just a tiny bit unhinged?  Or faulty, like the fridge? 



Quite possibly.  I’m open to that.  I’m also open to the power of having a tool as richly and instantly rewarding as an open laptop as my stillpoint.  There are worse ways to bear up - or buckle - under pressure. 

But I do well to remind myself that a row or three of words is a curiously fragile path to tread on the way to wellbeing.  

Criticism or compliment?

Why would she ask that?  What did she mean?

So, it was Thursday, and writer’s group day again (my favourite day of the week). Our group is thriving – so much that we’ve now had to close off the membership list.  Once a month we read our themed pieces to the group, originally for feedback, but with all our keen writers, it is an increasingly cursory process.

The week’s theme was Summer Menu.  I read a strange little piece I’d concocted, in which I red-herringed the reader merrily through a scene, then kicked them with a cunning reveal right at the end.  The protagonist, it turns out, is not who the reader thinks he is, and a chilly shadow falls over the previously sunny story line.  As reveals go, it was pretty smooth, and it got a spectacular response.

A wave of exclamations rippled around the table, a good sign that the ending had its desired effect.  A couple of people complimented me on deploying the creepiness factor so well.  And then one lady piped up, “Is this part of a novel you’re writing?”

This threw me, and before I could formulate a counter-question it was time to move on.  And I’ve been stewing it over ever since.  Why would she ask that?  What did she mean? 

Was it a compliment?  Like, “Wow, that scene was so well constructed with exactly the right amount of subtext about the world outside the room, that it could have been a novel excerpt.”  Or was it a veiled criticism?  Like, “I didn’t really get the point of it, and I haven’t read a short story that takes place within a single scene, and I couldn’t recognise a beginning, middle and an ending, so clearly it has to be a fragment of a larger work because it doesn’t hang together by itself. “  

Compliment or criticism?  This is one of those times when I wish for a more detailed feedback mechanism.

I made some very deliberate choices about the structure of the piece.  I placed it entirely within a single scene, because I wanted to flesh it out rather than just narrate through a string of events.  I habitually write characters within a very interior frame, without embedding them into their physical surrounds.  This is disaster-territory for novel writing, where it’s important to show, not tell.  So I’ve been consciously working on creating settings, and moving the plot along in concrete, external ways. 

Everything in the story is there for a reason (something that I’ve been learning since coming very late but passionately to JK Rowling), but there’s no hurry to get there.  I would rather you know that my protagonist wears a cream silk cravat and has long fingers, than tell you that he was impeccably dressed or tall.  If I write enough of these sorts of scenes, it should (in theory, anyway) build the kind of skills that I need to write a first novel that is worth reading.

In the end, I guess it doesn’t matter whether the story was criticised as a short piece.  Regardless of why the question was asked, it was a good sign that I’m developing the kind of tone and pacing that is suitable for longer works. 

One step closer to denouement.

Freedom

I’ve just downloaded a nifty bit of software.  If it’s good enough for Nora Ephron, then it’s good enough for me.  It’s called Freedom and it allows you to take a self-enforced break from the internet.  You simply enter the number of minutes you want to work, undistracted by the endless lure of cyberspace, then it locks you out until that amount of time has passed.

The deal is, you can’t just have the computer open and idling, you actually have to be working for your Freedom minutes to tick past.  So the minutes don't tick by unless you're writing. Pretty neat, huh?

So, while I’m talking about things that are neat, there is a similar program called Anti-Social, which still allows you to access the internet except for social networking sites.  Oh how I want this.  BUT it’s only available for Macs at this stage.  I emailed the software developer who, being a real, live person, took the time to email me back! (Thanks, Fred.  Most appreciated).  Sadly, it’s a much more complex process for Windows than for Macs, so it will be a while coming.  If ever.

Sigh.  First and only time in my life I’ve wished for a Mac.  In the meantime I’m going cold turkey on the internet – well as much as I can – until the new semester starts and then I’ll be back online thrashing the WWW in a big way. 



Apple keyboard by Håkan Dahlström @ flickr

Rebel

It was writer’s group day (my favourite day in the month) and one of our ex-teacher members was running a short grammar workshop for the group.  In particular she was extolling the difference between BECAUSE and AS when used as conjunctions.  She claimed that the use of AS when there was causality between the two clauses was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I wanted to jump up and run to the Style Guide to check, as I wasn’t convinced that I’d just been taught an inviolable tenet of modern English grammar.  (See what I just did?)  Sadly, I don’t have my own copy of the Style Guide.  (I’m holding off on the purchase because I hear another edition is due out soon).  So the exactitude of the claim remains unproven.  And the lesson was not well spent on me.  

It did however fire up my inner rebel.  This is the part of me that eats cold pizza for breakfast and drives against the direction arrows in shopping centre car parks, because I can.  The part of me that talks back at the telly like it’s listening, and wears granny undies as a political statement that only I know about.  It’s the slice of me that lives on the wild side, but on the inside.  It’s the glimpse of me that that surprises or even shocks the other members of the group nearly every time I read something I’ve written.  It’s the part of me that is certain it has a story to tell that the world hasn’t heard yet.

I consider this fragment of rebellion to be a useful corner of my psyche, and something that a writer should fiercely guard and promote within her or himself.  It creates a frame to peer through that shapes the landscapes beyond it, like a frost-crazed window that bends the world’s light into something beautiful.  It gifts a writer their individuality, their tiny sliver of moonlit brilliance.  It’s the difference between serving up a predictable story in cheap glassware, rather than the sleight of hand that delivers something crystalline and unexpected.  It’s the good crazy.  The one you want to drag up into your writer’s garret and tickle mercilessly until it vomits up a piece of the sky.



Crystals and Light -
Cristaux et lumiere by monteregina @ flickr



Disclaimer

So, that read a little like a disclaimer, didn’t it? 

I’m not usually a fan of the disclaimer.  They tend to come across as pre-emptive apologies, as if the person knows full well they are serving up an undercooked cake.

Well, I’d like to make it abundantly clear:  there is nothing wrong with my cake.  It just takes a long time to bake and tends to be served up in small pieces, for now, anyway.  But the cake itself is absolutely as good as it should be for someone with my flair for cooking and level of baking experience.  Sometimes I even manage a tolerable layer of icing.

So, why even mention it?

Because if I don’t, there is a cake-eating elephant in the room that I’ll have to ignore each time I squeeze past it to my desk.



O Elefante by Murilo Morais @ flickr

Every time I sit down to write, this altered speed of thinking sits down with me.  It’s a large part of my subjective experience of writing right now.  Acknowledging and accepting this unhappy truth allows me to move ahead with and despite it.  And since Destination: denouement is all about Getting Over It. And Getting On With It it’s entirely appropriate to allow myself this freedom in this space.  

Especially because I would hate for any Destination: denouement readers to be injured by a pachyderm.   





I'm only going to say this once

I’m trying to learn not to be so fussy about things.  Generally, but with my writing especially.  My cognitive speed has recently slowed (yes, there’s a story there that I may or may not share one day) and so has the pace of my writing.  I especially have trouble trying to work out whether there is internal order in what I have written.  This means the editing process is lengthy and painful, and that this level of travail is entirely new to me.

But, I’m trying to channel some blitheness in my approach, some just-keep-moving dynamism and flow.  I’m convinced that the more writing I lay down in volume, the more my brain cells will fire and the neural pathways will rewire.  Eventually, the writing will cure itself.  So, if my grammar is a little unorthodox, or you come across a scandalous misuse of vocabulary, cut me some slack.  I do, and for now at least it’s a good thing.