The video below is nearly a year old, but that’s okay.  I’ve been spending  time thinking about teaching the love of writing, especially after taking over the Clarksville Writers Group.  This video is one reason why I feel any time spent instilling the love of writing is never time wasted.  I found the video originally on Lighter Footstep.

I am in a whimsical mood today.  You’ve been warned.  Monday I wrote about writing genres I never thought I would write.

You see, I thought I mostly wrote this:

and certainly this (link due to artwork being fully copyrighted) and of course I wrote a lot of this:

but then I wrote one of these, those, and that:

So, I guess I am a

That will become a

as soon as I understand I write almost all genres and stop being surprised.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  I’ve written some weird…ah…stuff… over several decades (in terms of being outside the genres I like to read).  Besides, I read mysteries, thrillers, fantasy, historical, crime and cop, inspirational, mainstream and romance.  Why should I be surprised when any of it comes out?  Well, on second thought, don’t answer that.  I still have that “but I don’t write that type very well” thing going on.

Have you had enough metaphor?  Good, because it’s hot here and I really would like to have one of these to the left while I retire to add more words to the current WiP.

I did warn you about the whimsical thing.  Yup.

I don’t remember the library being this noisy.  Not the libraries of my youth, the school libraries, or the ones I’ve been privileged to frequent as an adult.  If the stern librarian was replaced, I never noticed.  Even the Community College library where I once worked was quiet.

Perhaps this is a normal day here, or the stern librarian has the day off.  Maybe the reverence for libraries has diminished (or at least the respect for fellow library patrons).  Regardless, it is a noisy place on the first floor, even this far back from the entrance.

Nap-deprived children fuss as their parents browse.  The DVD shelver is back, making a racket on the metal units.  People laugh and gossip in normal tones.  Teens are talking on cell phones or to each other.

I’m not sure how I feel about this.  I came here for quiet and less distraction.  I miss the reverent hush that once prevailed.

On the other hand, these are people incorporating the library into their social outings, family time, and afternoon plans.  That’s new since my childhood, and refreshing.  This library is being thoroughly used by people of all ages, economic backgrounds, and beliefs.

I can find another floor or corner where things are quieter.  I can’t find it in me to begrudge any of my fellow book lovers for their joy in and support of the written word.

The two middle school girls walking behind me are whispering excitedly.  “I’m so glad we came here instead of the mall!” says one.  “Yeah, and I can’t wait to read this book,” says her friend.

That, too, is reverence.  I had to smile.

I’m sitting in the middle of my local public library, gazing around.  From small children to the elderly and everything in between, these rooms are full of book people–readers, word lovers, educators, students, story seekers and idea chasers.

I can’t help but wonder how many have put pen to paper, spinning their own stories or setting down life as they knew it.

Sitting here in the middle of the main floor, slightly irritated at the staccato clack of DVDs being re-shelved and rearranged, I watch people come and go.  I watch them browse, selecting piles of books and then reluctantly culling those piles to a manageable size.  The line to the check out is long.

My feet don’t reach the floor in these chairs so I leave them to swing  underneath the table…a reminder of my early childhood visits to the library.

I feel connected in a way I’ve missed.  I am among flesh and blood book people in a room heavy with the scent of books and the winter chill carried in on coats and jackets.  At my fingertips, should I care to move from my table, is wisdom, comedy, enlightenment, romance, adventure, tragedy, classics, speculative fiction, children’s picture books and YA explorations of life.  There are rows of faith, customs, heritage, history, science and myth…a composite picture of life as we know it, might imagine it, and what it used to be resides in the three floors of this building.

This is but one reason we writers do what we do.  We are book people.  I’m convinced you can’t write well if you are not also a reader.  The two are intrinsic, like two sides of the same coin.

I came here to write through a dry spell.  I found myself observing, absorbing, and reconnecting.  We are, in this library, all readers, word lovers, educators, students, story seekers and idea chasers.  We, as writers, are who we write for.

I’m taking a bit of a risk, today, and posting a personal essay with personal thoughts.

What do you do if you don’t like your voice, or find your voice puts you at odds with the writing style popular right now?  Or, if you do like your voice, what happens if no one else does?

My voice, defined by 23 years of prolific journaling, is what it is.  I can’t change my voice unless I change myself.  That happens.  We evolve over time and our voice changes with  us.  But we don’t change that much.  Our core beings, to which I believe voice is tied, remains essentially the same for most of us.

I’ve heard it described as reverent, old-fashioned, introspective, sweet, thoughtful, sometimes humorous, complex, idea and concept driven, idealistic, encouraging, sentimental, and literary.  I don’t know how I would describe it.   I know that the best stuff comes when I get out of the way.  I think that’s true for all writers.

I think about Matthew Dryden, whose style and voice is so distinct, though he says he’s still searching for it.  His brutal honesty and often violent imagery is distinctive.  I don’t need to be told he’s guest posting somewhere.  I can tell from the post that it’s Matthew.

I’m not so confident of my own style.  One reason I started a blog was to see if people were responsive to my style.  I have a small, consistent readership that seems to appreciate my thoughts and my prose.  I like blogging for the more personal bent.  It’s different from the articles I write for the web site.  I can take flights of fancy, use metaphors and speak about things that aren’t always welcome in a “teaching” piece.

Writing from the heart leaves one naked in a crowded room.  Part of you desperately hopes no one notices, but part of you is willing to stand there, brazen, and demand to be recognized.  If you feel you are unattractive or inadequate (as most of us do), the pointing, stares and ridicule can shrink your soul to a hard knot.  To write nakedly, you must have courage.

My background is such that I have to work to keep distance between me and my  words.  I’m perfectly capable of pouring out really raw prose, but no one wants to read about such heavy subjects or cry with me over the tenderness of my inner being.  I write uplifting and encouraging things as well, and those are easier to share.

That’s part of the writing gift…to take these deep inner hurts and use them as prose.  Having survived the various trials of my life and learned their lessons, I write to speak to others going through the same thing.  I have experienced the outward spiral from the epicenter of pain, circling away from the event with pages and pages of words, until it is finally on the horizon.  I know the healing power of writing.  I know the power of writing for self discovery.  I know the power of handing my pen to that deep well inside me and relinquishing control.

My voice is my voice.  I don’t always like it, but I have accepted it.  All that remains to be seen is whether others accept and appreciate it or if I will end up standing naked amidst a jeering crowd, humiliated and dying.

I haven’t done a meme yet, but I like this one.  I got this from  Melissa Donovan’s Writing Forward.  She found it over at Write from Home, courtesy Amy Derby.

What was the last book you bought?

I bought /came home with four books on Sunday
·    How to Grow a Novel, Sol Stein
·    The Illuminator, first novel by Brenda Rickman Vantrease
·    Putting Your Passion Into Print by Arielle Eckstut & David Henry Sterry
·    Getting Things Done, by David Allen

Name a book you have read MORE than once

I think I’ve read every Forgotten Realms book we own at least twice, and half of them three times.  A couple books I keep going back to are Creating A Life Worth Living and Writing Down the Bones.

Has a book ever fundamentally changed the way you see life? If yes, what was it?

You mean aside from the Bible?  Yes, several.  Creating a Life Worth Living was instrumental in helping me figure out what to do with the life handed back to me after a life threatening illness.  Gentle Persuasion opened up a new world for me.  Becoming a Writer (Dorothea Brande, the 1981 version),  Please Understand Me, and Mars and Venus Starting Over also changed a lot of things for me in terms of who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go.

How do you choose a book – eg. by cover design and summary, recommendations or reviews

Cover and back flap copy unless a book has been recommended.  I am also very loyal to authors I enjoy.

Do you prefer Fiction or Non-Fiction?

I’ll always choose fiction when reading to relax.  I enjoy learning and personal enrichment/development, so I pick up quite a few non-fiction books as well.  Reading in order to provide book reviews for the site is almost all non-fiction.

What’s more important in a novel – beautiful writing or a gripping plot?

The best books have both, right?  A page-turning plot will keep me reading even if the writing isn’t stellar.  Beautiful writing eventually gets set aside if there’s no story there.

Most loved/memorable character (character/book)

Okay, I don’t care if I’m embarrassed by my answer…I still like Elizabeth Bennet!  I like the lead character from Persuasion almost as much.

Which book or books can be found on your nightstand at the moment?

How to Grow a Novel (Sol Stein), Waterdeep, City of Splendors (Ed Greenwood).  Well, those are on top.  I have a stack of books next to the night stand, a stack ON the nightstand, and a stack on a small stool nearby.

What was the last book you’ve read, and when was it?

How to Grow a Novel (Sol Stein); I’ll likely finish it tonight.

Have you ever given up on a book half way in?

Maybe a time or two.  A trip to the bookstore usually has me reading the first few pages of each new book until one grips me for the duration.  I haven’t given up on The History of Writing, but need to take it in small portions.

Who’s Next?

So this is my first post of this type.  My current reading list is posted on this blog, linked at the top.  Melissa Donovan called this the Book Lovers’ Special.  Now it’s time to pass the special on.  Copy and paste this post into your own blog or email and replace the answers with your own.  Share the information and tip us all to some good books!

B J Keltz

A curious thing happened yesterday.  Though I prefer composing in longhand, my writing is rapid and not always in the best of penmanship.  Yesterday, however, while making notes and drafting an essay, I found myself writing with extreme care.  I wrote slowly and with far more pressure on the pen than I normally find comfortable.  Amazingly legible!  This curious event carried over into this morning’s work.  Methodical, carefully formed letters, but this time printed!  I don’t think I’ve printed anything since school.

I’ve spent most of today trying to understand where this thing came from.  It can’t be the pain in my thumb or the necessity of keeping it straight.  No matter the condition of my arthritic hands, I’m still writing rapid cursive that I must sometimes decipher with care.  I doubt it’s the fact that I’m reading A History of Writing (an academic and sometimes difficult book).    I’m stumped.

I’ve been composing a lot on the keyboard lately.  I don’t discount my neglect of the need to feel the pen and paper connecting.  Could it be I am merely feeding this addiction?  If not that, the only other possibility that comes to mind is that I might be experiencing a renewal of the reverence I feel for the writing process, including the mechanics and physical sensations of inscribing words on paper.

Late this afternoon, I was still writing slowly, though with less care than yesterday.  It appears this strange phenomenon might be fading.  I am aware that my thought process during this time has been very thoughtful and introspective.  Might be an interesting technique to try on purpose later on.

I’m sure I’ll scratch my head for a few days more, hoping for a satisfactory explanation.  There must be one, right? 

*Author’s note:  A full 72 hours before the phenomenon faded.

I am a little old school.  Though I can and often do compose directly on the computer, I prefer longhand for composition, writing exercises, and early morning writing.  One reason is that I have arthritis.  My days of typing 110 wpm are long gone.  Another reason is that there’s something about putting pen to paper that helps things flow better…slows down my thoughts and helps me capture a more introspective flavor in my writing.  But that is fodder for another blog post.

Longhand writers have strong preferences of course.  Course or grainy paper fatigues the hand.  Some like lined paper, some don’t.  Some of us get frustrated with frequent page turning, so use large notebooks.  Others are fine with the smaller ones. 

Our choice of pens is also a matter of preference.  While I love writing with a Pilot Precise V7 above all things, I must now use a fat pen with a good grip on it.  Some people like ballpoint, some gel, and some even use fountain pens.

But one thing we all hate is when that pen runs dry.  It seems to always happen in the middle of a thought, when we’re in hurry, or when we’re in a remote part of the house and must trek through several rooms to grab another.

Because I use fat barrel pens with thick grips (almost always solid, not clear), I don’t have a clue when my pen is about to give up the ghost.  I keep spare pens on my desk, in the car, and next to the bed, but what are you going to do if your pen runs dry while soaking in the bathtub or, ahem, somewhere else in the same room?

I’ve experienced episodes in which every pen in reach of my recliner is also dry…a testament to my distractedness, I say… a testament to my housekeeping habits, says my mother.  For at least 3 minutes, my thought process must try to remain on hold while I move the cat, scrunch my five foot height low enough in the chair to close the footrest, get up, find a pen on my desk (remember to check it) and return to my chair.  Sometimes I can pick up where I left off.  More often, the thought process didn’t want to wait on hold and hung up on me.

I think I need to invent a pen that uses an IV bag type set up.  That’s a lot of ink!  Plus, you can see when the bag is almost empty and get another one prepped and ready.  Certainly I’d never have a pen run dry on me again provided I remembered to CHECK the bag periodically and always have a fresh one handy. 

In the grand scheme of how things go, it would cut down on the number of times I dealt with a dry pen, but wouldn’t stop it completely.  A writer’s mind is a writer’s mind.  Eager to get started, I’d think an inch in the bag is more than enough, only to run out without a spare!  Dang it!  My pen ran dry…again.