It's not as romantic as it may sound, and it's hardly inspirational. It just is, and it's exhausting. Trying and failing again and again is like riding an out of control carousel you can't get off of, and all you want to do is barf.
I could rant about all the things I fail at and keep working at anyway, but it would do no good. It's just important to know that's what I do. I am my own special kind of masochist. And unlike Rihanna's credo of "sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me," I get no excitement from the torture of failing. I just feel the broken bones, set out to heal, and do it all over again.
That's it. That's all I got today. I'm off to work on something that I have every confidence I will ultimately fail at. Wish me luck.
Eileen
On November 6, 2023, my dear friend, Mary Elizabeth Lang, passed away of cancer. She braved the disease for half the time I knew her, which is more than twenty years. When the cancer metastasized, she knew she was dying and she picked this picture for her memorial service. It's a lovely picture of her in the sun among the flowers. But, I shared with our mutual friend, Paula, that I wished we could see her eyes. It's not up to us to understand why she chose this picture. If I were to surmise, I would say that it wasn't what she could see with her eyes that was magical, but what she could see with her heart.
This is reflected in her poetry, which is among the finest I've ever read or heard. But also in her intuitiveness and understanding of the relationships between humans, animals, and nature.
As the anniversary of her passing approaches, I am overcome with emotion. I miss her. She is one of the few friends I can say I truly loved. I cannot define the sorrow I feel over her absence.
Two weeks ago, I remembered a premonition she had that she shared with me. I was compelled to write about it, preserve the moment forever. So, I created a poem to hold onto that moment. I embellished the conversation to try to capture her essence and loving nature. I hope I succeeded.
PREMONITION
from my friend Mary Elizabeth Lang
Not a stray hoping for food
or a kitten born from a friend’s pet.
This cat is special, meant for you.
There are other homes for him to choose,
where children could pick him up
like a scrappy stuffed toy
and carry him around the yard.
Or where a lonely widow
could scruff his head while sipping wine
and watching Jeopardy!
Yet, he knows those homes aren’t for him.
I’ve heard your words,
proclaiming you will never adopt again.
It leads to too much heartbreak,
as these little darlings always die first.
This cat will still exist if you don’t accept him,
but he will exist without the family
he was meant to have.
And you will exist without knowing his love.
I’m not worried. Although he’s never met you,
he’s seen you in his future.
And although I’ve never met him,
I’ve seen him in your future.
In a dream, he was in your house,
sauntering through your kitchen
toward his food bowl in the corner,
content with his tail in the air.
He gave a little chirp as he passed by,
to say “Thank you” for the savory morsels,
for his comfy cat bed, which is also your bed,
for playing snaky, and for being his mom.
Their time here is short. That’s true.
But they have nine eternal lives to enjoy
on many planes beyond this mortal one.
These are spiritual beings.
That’s why he found me
to help him find you, and you will embrace him.
Each day you will rejoice in his being here,
and each day you will fear his loss.
I know, because I have lost many darlings.
I’ve cried and mourned. I still see their ghosts
ambling around the house.
And I worry for my living furry children.
Because this time, I will die first.
Cancer has won over my body,
giving me the gift to foresee
when my last days on this earth will be.
But don’t worry. Like our cats,
I have nine eternal lives to enjoy
on many planes beyond this mortal one.
We are all spiritual beings.
So, believe me when I tell you
a cat is going to come into your life
and you will become family.
I saw it in a dream.
P.S.
Yes, we adopted the special cat from Mary Elizabeth's premonition. He had been sheltered twice prior to coming to us. He has been living in his forever home for eight years now. He's thirteen, happy and healthy. His name was Max before we adopted him, but he didn't respond to it. So, he renamed himself Scruffles.
"You fail only if you stop writing."
This message on writing has been attributed to Ray Bradbury, but I've seen it modified to fit any talent that should not go to waste because someone stopped trying. I even posted this message myself on social media, believing I would never be that person who stopped writing because it was too hard. Then...
Last year, I was able to acquire an agent for my latest novel One Good Kick, a dark thriller about a young woman who has everything, but makes one bad choice that leads her on a spiral of deceit, murder, and madness. The agent and I went through the first edit together, then her boss suddenly passed away and the family closed the agency. With that, my agent decided to retire. I am grateful to her for giving me a chance and helping me through the first step toward publication, but I was left without an agent. I tried for several months to acquire another agent to no avail.
After this defeat and some very personal and hurtful criticisms of my work, I started to question my journey as a writer. I was heartbroken, disillusioned, and exhausted from the hurt. This was in March of this year.
I was still teaching creative writing through the Wethersfield Adult Education Department, so I turned my focus away from novel writing and toward creating an instructional book on writing that I could use in my classes.
Then in May, I was informed that the Wethersfield school district was abolishing the Adult Ed Department due to budget cuts and that there would be no more classes offered except Driver's Ed and English As a Second Language. I went into a deep funk. Sure, there were other towns in which I could teach, but none that would fit my hectic work schedule due to travel time.
For two months, I mourned the loss of not only my life-long ambition of being a successful writer, but of my creative outlet teaching writing to others. Even though I had already published four volumes of poetry and short fiction and one novel titled The Windsome Tree, I felt that my dream had come to an end. I actually said the words "I quit" out loud in front of my friends and family.
For those two months, I felt empty, lost, anxious, afraid (of what, I wasn't and still am not sure, but it was palpable), and most of all, I felt sad.
There were times when scrolling through Facebook, I would see memes of that quote about failing and a sudden pang would hit my heart that I had fallen into that kind of failure. Not the kind that happens because you didn't get the job you wanted, but the kind that happens because you didn't apply for the job you wanted.
Then one day, I saw the meme again, except this time it had the longer quote from Ray Bradbury.
I thought, am I writing because I want to write a hundred great things, or am I writing because I want to write? And I gave myself the lecture that I've given others.
Ten years from now, you don't want to look back and say, "If only I didn't stop writing, I could have finished that novel."
Ten years from now, you don't want to look back and say, "If only I kept revising and submitting, maybe I would have gotten that agent and published my novel."
Ten years from now, you don't want to look back and say, "I wonder how many wonderful things I would have written and where those writings would have taken me, if only I didn't stop writing."
So, I started writing my book on writing again. And I looked back at my novel and realized that letting it go for all those months was beneficial because I could see what it needed. (Read my previous blogs to know more about this.) And I began revising it. That was three months ago. I finished the revision of my novel yesterday and sent it out to my beta readers for feedback.
As it happens, this accomplishment comes two days after an agent who showed interest in the novel over six months ago, then never got back in touch, contacted me. I thought she just passed on the book without letting me know. It turns out she had major surgery, then suffered a debilitating injury directly afterward. She apologized, said she's feeling better, and asked that I resubmit my query and samples when she opens up for submissions in November.
The timing is amazing, as it comes just as I was finishing up the revision, and it gives enough time for beta readers to give the novel a go before I submit. Now, with others reading the novel, I will return to my book on writing titled Glittering Little Stars. The title is taken from an Anton Chekhov quote about how to "show, and not tell" in your writing. (See a previous blog to read more about this.)
Even if she doesn't sign me, I'll be sad, but I won't stop writing. Because this is the sign I needed to say, "never stop trying." You never know when you'll get a second chance.
I had spent years writing the novel, and I loved it. My husband even loved it, and, yes, he is the nicest man in the world, but he always finds a way to tell me when my writing doesn't work in the nicest possible way. With this thriller, he gave me constructive critique, and in the end, I wrote a novel we both loved.
And I knew the story was good, because I was able to get an agent. But, in the back of my head, I realized I had a major problem. Here's a brief description of the story:
It's 1989 and Annette Goode, a promising young editor for a small Hartford, CT, magazine has had too much to drink at the office Christmas party. Her head swimming, she struggles to maneuver away from the strange man shouting behind her in the dark labyrinth of a parking garage. Terrified he is out to kill her, and not realizing when leaving the party she took her best friend's purse, she reaches in for her keys only to pull out a small silver gun. In a panic, she turns and shoots the man dead. It's here Annette makes the first choice that will change her life. She leaves the scene unnoticed.
Haunted, she struggles to scrub away her guilt, but on every street corner, at every bus stop, she sees the ghost of the man she shot. Unable to shake the phantom or the dogged female detective and her mounting suspicions, Annette makes her second choice. She lies to her friend about having her purse and throws the gun into a pond near her apartment.
We all make choices that shine insight into who we are as people. In One Good Kick, the reader follows Annette's spiral down a chilling path of bad choices that lead to greater and greater tragedies, until she faces one final choice that could determine whether she lives or dies.
Because I wanted the reader to take a deep dive into Annette's psyche, I wrote the novel solely in her point of view (POV). It worked well, however, because she makes so many horrible choices that lead to such horrible outcomes, it was hard for the reader to have enough sympathy for her to follow through to the end of the story. Would they root for her to get away with her crimes? Would they stay committed to the story to see if she finds redemption? Would they keep reading to find out if she will serve her just punishment?
That's a lot of questions to consider, and the answer to all three was probably "No." After crying in my wine for about four months, it came to me.
Annette's story is solid, but can't rise to a higher level of interest all by itself. I needed another story from another character's POV that the reader could champion. I needed a subplot.
Don't get me wrong, One Good Kick had subplots, but they were all executed through Annette's POV. I needed another character's perspective of the world, of Annette, and of the conflict.
You may wonder how I could possibly create a whole other story inside the story I'd already written. The answer is, the story was already there; I just had to expand upon it, create a deeper conflict and deeper motivation for the secondary character. And I had to give hime his own POV. I chose Annette's best friend's fiancé as the secondary character.
I did this because the best friend already played a major role in the story that was strong and her story already ran alongside that of the main story. Even through Annette's POV, the best friend had a separate and unique story.
I chose the fiancé because he already had a motivation to uncover the truth behind all the events surrounding Annette's choices. He already had his own conflict that needed resolving at the end of the story that directly linked to Annette's story. But what he didn't have is his own POV. And although his motivation was present, it wasn't powerful enough to keep the tension tight. And he is a wholly sympathetic character with whom the reader can root for.
So, what is a subplot anyway? It's not what it's name implies. It is not subordinate to the main plot. It's not a less significant plot. It does not play out below the main plot.
It is a side story that runs parallel to the main plot. It incorporates separate events and conflicts that are unique to the secondary character(s). It is it's own story, with a beginning, middle, and end. It has rising action, conflict, tension, a climax, and a conclusion just like the main plot does.
Although a separate story, the subplot must play an integral role to the main plot. This may be obvious from the beginning, or it may not become clear until later in the story. If you can rip the subplot out of your story and have the main story still stand strong, then you have not created a successful subplot. It must weave into the main conflict and play a part in the resolution of the conflict.
Remember how I chose the best friend's fiancé because he was a sympathetic character the reader could root for? That is why I also changed the ending of One Good Kick. I had originally left it open ended in order to write a sequel. (Read my previous blog to understand why I did that.) It turned out, after all Annette had gone through, everything she had done, that ending would not satisfy the reader. So, in developing a stronger subplot in a secondary character's POV, I made him the catalyst to the conclusion. His intensified and personal journey is what leads to the resolution.
Subplots in my last novel The Windsome Tree came more easily for me because I had written the story through four perspectives. The main character (protagonist), her husband, and the two ghost children who come into the protagonist's life. They each had their own powerful story that connected to the main conflict of the protagonist.
Subplots are an important element of every story. They don't always have to be huge, but they should always exist. They can mirror the main plot, with the secondary character there to teach a lesson or help resolve the conflict. They can be contrasting to the main plot, with the secondary character making different choices than the main character that result in a different outcome. They can complicate the main plot, with the secondary character making more obstacles for the main character. Or they can serve as a romantic challenge, with a love interest complicating the protagonist's journey.
The purpose of the subplot is to give more information than the main character can give. It enriches characterization by giving a different perspective of the main character. It intesifies conflict, increases tension, and builds suspense. It raises the stakes for the main character by having a secondary character working either for or against that character. It can provide backstory and expand the world. And it helps with pacing and tone of the story.
There you have it. When writing your story, don't forget the subplots! And, remember, there's nothing "sub" about them.
Thanks for checking in and happy writing!
Eileen
I'm adding a subplot with a supporting character's point of view (POV) to my thriller ONE GOOD KICK. I was able to get an agent to represent the book without it, so I know the main story arch is good, but I believe losing the agent under circumstances no one could control (the agency closed with the passing of its owner) gave me an opportunity to revisit the novel and see what I can do to make it more engaging for the reader. I'm also changing the ending. I had to let it sit for a while before I could see these necessary changes with a clear eye.
The novel was originally written in only one POV, that of the protagonist turned antagonist. I did that because I wanted the reader to get an intimate look into the character's psyche. I believe I succeeded in doing that. However, I always had trouble wondering if the reader would have enough sympathy for her to sustain them through her entire journey.
After letting the novel go for a couple of months, I realized I needed a second character's POV, one who was wholly sympathetic and had a integral part in the main character's fate. His role takes up less physical space in the novel than that of the main character, but the way he is woven into the story is significant.
I have decided to change the ending because I made a mistake when choosing how the novel would conclude. I love my mom and I respect her. She is wise and strong and loving and she only wanted the best for me. But sometimes people like parents, spouses, or best friends are too close to you to see what needs to be done with an objective eye.
She thought the novel would make a good series. She was pretty insistent. She said readers like a series and that's how I will get rich and famous. I listened to her, not because I wanted to become rich and famous. I've never had illusions of that, nor is it what I want. I just wanted to write a good book that people would want to read. I listened to her because I didn't want to disappoint her. She's my mom. So, I wrote the ending according to that advice. I convinced myself I liked the idea. The problem was multi-fold.
One, after letting it go and coming back to it, I realize it was not a satisfying ending for the reader. Mainly because, and this is the second reason, contrary to what I convinced myself to believe, I didn't like the ending. Three, I didn't want to write a sequel to this story. I had zero desire to do that. I ignored that feeling and, number four, I thought it would force me to attack my next novel right away. I tried, honest I did. But I hated almost every idea I came up with. When I did come up with an interesting premise, I couldn't fit any of the characters from the previous story into it.
So, now I know what I need to do. Give a different POV to draw the reader in emotionally and allow the reader to root for someone. Change the ending so it is satisfying to both me and the reader. Don't worry about the sequel. When the time comes, I'll just write a new story. Never consider writing a story to become rich and famous, even if that would make my mom happy. And lastly, know I can love my mom without agreeing with everything she says.
Okay, so those who have beta read the novel as it was before, I hope you can see how this will work. It's all worth it, kids. Sometimes you can only fix the problem after you give your novel some distance.
Thanks for dropping in and happy writing and reading!
Eileen
Fall in love with your story and embrace the drama. Don't keep the drama your dirty little secret or make it a surprise. You can add twists and turns to your story along the way, but the main drama, or conflict should be in the spotlight right from the start. Few people love drama when it surrounds them in real life, but boy do we love it when it belongs to someone else!
Good luck and happy writing!
Eileen
(This segment is taken from my upcoming book on writing titled Glittering Little Stars. Check back for information on the release date.)
Show, Don't Tell
Your fifth-grade English teacher, in my case Miss Powell, writes the words on the chalkboard as a reminder that you are to keep this phrase in mind with each word you grind into your notebook with your No. 2 pencil. A simple phrase, she explains, that means show the reader what you mean, don't tell them.
"So, you see," she tells the class, "the definition is self-explanatory. Okay, now write."
Great. Okay. Wait. What?
All the students, except Bobby Miller, who is attacking the page like a hungry reporter, stare ahead with a glazed expression of nothingness on their faces.
You feel dumb because it's supposed to be simple, and if it's so simple, then you should understand how to do it. But you don't. Why? Because that simple phrase does the exact opposite of what it is advising you to do. It's telling you to show, don' tell. But it's not showing you how. It oversimplifies a vast and complex process that incorporates myriad practices that must be executed to create a successful "showing" piece of work.
How do you show, then?
Let's start with the great 19th century Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. It can be argued that his quote on show, don't tell is the most famous in the world.
"Don't tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass."
It is a vivid image. But as with so many other things in today's world, we like to get our information in abbreviations and sound bites. Alas, that is the case with this quote, which isn't a quote from Chekhov at all, but a reworded, truncated version of what he said or, more specifically, wrote. If we were to pass down the full quote from this master of the stage play, the technique of show, don't tell might not be so hard to grasp.
Our teachers tried to explain it. They did the best they could, but I am going to guess many of our writing teachers, like Miss Powell, didn't fully understand how to put show, don't tell into practice themselves. So how could they teach us? That's not an insult to those who tried yet fell short of defining this concept. The problem is within the phrase itself and how we describe its meaning.
Show, don’t tell is a writing technique using action and sensory detail rather than exposition. Show illustrates. Tell states.
You may think this means to be more descriptive, use more adjectives or write that your character is wearing a green wool sweater or your cat has five toes on his two front paws. And you’d be correct because description is important. But it’s only the beginning.
Let's look at the actual quote that Chekhov wrote in a letter in May of 1886 to his brother who had literary aspirations. It reads:
“In descriptions of Nature one must seize on small details, grouping them so that when the reader closes his eyes he gets a picture. For instance, you’ll have a moonlit night if you write that on the mill dam a piece of glass from a broken bottle glittered like a bright little star, and that the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball.”
Notice that Chekhov uses comparisons to show the moon is shining. He doesn't describe the moon at all, or even mention the moon. Nor does he mention the "reflection of light" in his description. He uses simile to capture the essence of the moonlight so we can see it in a vivid and tangible way. The broken glass "glittered like a bright little star" and "the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball." What's more complex about these two comparisons is that in each he uses an image inside an image.
In the first we have the image of a broken bottle on the mill damn and from that image we see a piece of glass glitter like a bright little star. In the second we have the image of a shadow of a dog or a wolf and from that image we see the shadow roll past like a ball.
Even more complex is the emotion these images evoke. It's not just a picture he's drawing. It's a painting he's painting. Have you ever gone to a museum and just stared at a painting for minutes, getting lost in the emotion of it. The more you stare at the painting, the more layers you discover, the deeper you fall into it. That's what Chekhov does. The glitter of a bright little star feels magical, while, at the same time, the shadow of the dog or wolf rolling past like a ball is mysterious.
Chekhov showed us that moonlight is magical and mysterious without ever mentioning the moon or using the "telling" words magical and mysterious. Those are great words, and I encourage you to use them, however, compare the difference in how you feel about moonlight after reading Chekhov's passage and then me telling you that moonlight is magical and mysterious.
So, his well-crafted bit of advice to his brother, which gave so much insight into what show, don't tell means, is lost because someone at some time decide to paraphrase and shorten it into an anecdote and that's what stuck.
Yes, the "don't show me the moon is shining" thing is cool, but it cannot compete with a magical glittering little star and a mysterious shadow of a dog or wolf rolling past like a ball.
This segment is taken from my upcoming book on writing titled Glittering Little Stars. In it, I give tips and techniques on the basic structure of story and the principal elements of character, plot, point of view, tense, pacing, dialogue, and, yes, the all-important and often misunderstood concept of show, don’t tell. This book draws from my experiences in writing and what I’ve gathered from others who write. My goal in writing this is to pass along to you what I’ve learned and practiced in the hopes of having an abundance of great new books to read in the future.
Although Glittering Little Stars is written with the novelist in mind, other authors will benefit from the tips and techniques offered here, including, but not limited to the writers of memoir and short story.
If you would be interested in this book, please drop me a note and let me know. I can put you on my list and notify you when the book goes into publication.
Happy writing, everyone!
~Eileen
Don't forget to check back here for details for my NEW 8-week writing class through the Wethersfield Adult Education Department, "Start Small. Think Big. Turning your short story into a novel." For a sample of my writing, click the link below. And if you like what you read, THE WINDSOME TREE soft cover is available for 40% off on Amazon for a limited time!
Registration begins on Monday, January 29th.
Seating is limited.
Check back here for updates!
Once we were us, a family
stuffed tight inside a set of walls
Mom and Dad, four boys and me.
Our relatives kept company
in pictures hanging in the halls.
Once we were us, a family.
Many days we’d disagree
on things that led to spats and brawls.
Mom and Dad, four boys and me.
But always cleaned up the debris.
Patched up our wounds, survived the
squalls.
Once we were us, a family.
One brother died, and soon we’d see
one more pass on, so fate befalls
Mom and Dad, four boys and me.
Another left and that was three.
Then father answered his sons’ calls.
Once we were us, a family.
Mom and Dad, four boys and me.
