Views from a Window Seat

And Again: Moving Forward

Posted on 1 Apr 20141 Apr 2014 by beckylevine

I try not to talk too much online about the actual specifics of where I am on my writing path. I believe that moving forward consists of lots of ups and downs, some of those forward steps, and plenty of backward ones. I think that Jeannine Atkins’ Views from a Window Seat is probably the best collection of thoughts about all these steps and definitely the best overall representation of them and how they feel. I like to join in the conversation at times, and that’s usually what I use my blog and other social media for. Like I said, mostly I stay general.

Today, though, I’m kind of celebrating some specific steps. I’ve had a goal of getting a few picture books to the “ready” stage–ready for submission. From what I understand, if you’re submitting to agents (which I still want to do), they want you to have several ready to show them. So, for a while now, I’ve been working to add to my pile of one. I’ve switched back and forth between these others, sometimes struggling, sometimes following that light at the end of the distant tunnel, sometimes sitting back in frustration and exasperation. But, really, each one has–in its way–been moving forward on its own path.

As of today, my pile of “ready” has grown to three. Ready? Obviously, I don’t know if that means ready enough for an agent or an editor, but they’re ready enough to feel complete and cohesive to me, and I see a layer of sparkle in each one that whispers a quiet, happy “Yes.” And for a minute, let’s even take this out of the submission path, out of the “success” path, and just look at what it actually means.

I have written three picture books.

Wow.

As for the last one I still have to work on, there’s a little voice in me saying, “Hey, you have three. Three is several. Go ahead and send three.” Luckily (I think!), there’s a larger and much louder voice saying, “You almost have four. Keep going.” The little voice says, “But I don’t know what to DO with that one. (The little voice is kind of a whiner.) And the larger voice says, “You didn’t know what to do with the others either, many times. Remember?” And I remember. And the larger voice says again, “Keep going.” (The larger voice is kind of stubborn.)

So I’m pushing on. There’s another curve ahead on the path, and I’m going toward it. This time, though, the picture books in the “ready” pile are helping me along, kind of like rollerblades (a magical pair on which I can actually stay upright) gliding on pavement through a forest of beautiful trees with just a few scary animal noises in the distance. I’m happily carrying my pile with me, and I’m determined to make it a little bit taller.

And when I do…Well, who knows, really? But some kind of adventure–that much, I can tell you.

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Revision Progress

Posted on 9 Feb 2014 by beckylevine

In January, I wrote a review of Jeannine Atkins’ Views from a Window Seat and talked about how motivated I was to turn back toward my picture book revisions. I was so inspired from reading about Jeannine’s focus on sitting with a story, with its characters and its words, all at different stages but always with the same sense of giving the story time and room to reveal itself.

As I get back into my revisions, I’ve been working (hard) to stay with that inspiration, to remember how I want to do this. I’ve pushed away self-criticisms of how long I’ve been working on each of these stories. I’ve stuck in metaphorical earplugs to shut out the noisy thoughts of how much longer I might still be working on them. I’ve (tried to) put a lid on all the fantasies about what will happen when I do get them done. And I’ve spent a lot of time in non-story files, typing in thoughts as they occurred to me, listing questions for which I didn’t yet have answers, and then just thinking about those thoughts and questions.

Yesterday, while I was working on one of the revisions, actually at the point where I was changing words and sentences around, pulling the threads of the action and dialogue a little closer around the theme/purpose/point whatever, I heard a small, but solid thump. And I looked at what I had left to do in that revision, at least before I sent it off to my critique group for the nth time, and it was a lot less than I’d thought. Things had, without my realizing it, become more connected and cohesive. The pieces of the story had moved themselves into the right spots, and the characters had picked some good things to do and say. I had, with so much less agony and stress (not with less time or work!), come to the next “ready” place. Off went the critique.

And this morning, I picked up my folder for one of other picture books in the revision pile. It has been several weeks, at least, since I’ve looked at this one, and the first thing I did was read through the latest comments from my critique group. I didn’t open my laptop, not at first. I just read the comments. And suggestions I remember shaking my head at and feeling skeptical about suddenly made SO MUCH SENSE. I had been approaching the story, yet again, with some fear, but because I let myself start slowly and just get reacquainted with the critique comments, laptop unopened, no pen in hand, something else went thump. In a nice way.

This time, it was almost easy not to immediately open the story file. I started a new file called something like “What to Do With…” and I put in the two most important words that came through to me from the critique. I typed in a couple of questions, then a couple of ideas. Not really even possibilities yet. Just ideas. Thoughts. More to sit with.

Oh, of course, the other voices are still there, talking at me about mythical life deadlines, goals, self-esteem, productivity. But they’re clamoring a little less loudly, their vehemence softened, I think, by my going with Jeannine’s reminder–the reminder that we’re here because we choose to be. We are touching down with a story because at least that little bit in love with a character or a plot twist and because we want to see what we can do with it. Why run away from it? Or rush through it?

Yes, the tortoise eventually won the race. But I think he also enjoyed the feel of the ground under his feet, the sunshine on his shell, and all the sounds and smells of his journey.

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Giveaway: Jeannine Atkins’ VIEWS FROM A WINDOW SEAT

Posted on 7 Jan 20147 Jan 2014 by beckylevine

If you’re on Facebook with me, you may have seen me posting a quote here and there from Jeannine Atkins‘ new writing book, Views from a Window Seat: Thoughts on Writing and Life. I’ve been posting the phrases and sentences because Jeannine’s writing is just so lovely, it goes in your ears, touches your heart, and then pretty much demands to be shared. This is true of every book of Jeannine’s I’ve read, but seems to be especially true–for me, at least–of Views.

Disclaimer: Jeannine has been an online friend for many years, and her blog–the source of the pieces in Views–was one of the first I started reading. Take that away, and I would still be raving about her book and recommending it to any and all writers. For the reasons I’m going to talk about here.

For me, this collection of blog posts, or essays, that Jeannine has given us is a message of hope. I know, I know, that sounds mushy, and mushy (at least spoken out loud) is something I try to avoid. Except when…it’s true. Writing is hard. I thought I knew that when I was younger, and even a self-awarded label of “good” was so far down the line. As I get older, as I feel I have actually–here and there– achieved “good,” the writing doesn’t get any easier. (Did I think it would? I think I thought it would!) There are days when the drive to just finish something juggles itself with the desire to just write, and too often the juggling turns to pushing and pushing back, and I make no progress on either side of the battle. What Jeannine reminds me, in every piece, in just about every sentence of Views is that 1) I’m not the only writer feeling this way, 2) It’s all part of the process, and 3) It’s okay. Or if it’s not okay, at any given moment, it’s what we’ve got so we’d better deal with it. Here’s one of the sentences I highlighted as I read through the book.

Wishing I were the kind of writer who didn’t have to backtrack, draw zig-zagging arrows, and stumble into a plot may be as futile as wishing to be a foot taller or shorter.

Oh, yeah.

Another line:

Sometimes we have to be at the well rather than just worry about filling it.

Being at the well, without worry, is very possibly the toughest challenge we all face, both in writing and in life. The thing is, though, that, first, this book is not Jeannine preaching at or even instructing us. It’s Jeannine gently reminding herself and–if we care to listen–ourselves about the truths of writing. At the root of which is that this is a thing we do out of love, and from necessity. And that, while of course we wish it were simpler and more straightforward, if we don’t give ourselves over to the quiet and the waiting and the seeing what comes, we’re not only fighting a losing battle, we’re spending way too much time fighting, period. And we’re setting ourselves up to miss out on the wonder and magic that can happen.

Which is where the hope lives.

As I said, Views from a Window Seat demands to be shared. Which is why I’m giving away a signed copy to one lucky winner. Just leave a comment in the post (make sure you include your name and an email at which I can contact you) by next Monday night (January 13th), and I’ll draw a name and post the winner on Tuesday the 14th.

Heads up: Melodye Shore is offering another chance to win a copy of Jeannine’s book, plus a $25 price reduction to Candles in the Window writing and yoga retreat, at which Jeannine will be present as faculty. Leave a comment at Melodye’s blog here to enter (and/or follow other steps for more chances)!