Musical, "Boys From Syracuse." Moorhead's Straw Hat Players company in the early or mid 1970s. I remember the show because it was the only time I performed a solo dance on stage. That's me as a "youngster" in the middle of the stage. Fellow dancers: Bethea, Juleen and Kristin. Staring at us: Les Sarnoff.
Losing confidence, stuck on how to proceed with my novel, I returned to one of the first writing books I ever bought. After reading a few chapters of "IF YOU WANT TO WRITE, I was back on the writing wagon again.
FOR THOSE WHO NEED A NUDGE -
For anyone who yearns to write, but doesn't know how to begin, I recommend this book.Originally published in 1935, it still speaks to people out there who want to write, are writing now, or have written in the past and want to get back to telling a story. You have to start somewhere. Ms. Ueland's oldie but a goodie book may help.
You may not be able to read the subtitle -"A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit."
A few months ago, struggling with my novel, I felt down, blue, hopeless, and all that jazz about my writing and my story. When I'm stuck on how to move on to the next scene, and negativity begins to overtake me, I usually open my Kindle and find a writing book that's helped me in the past. This time I looked on my shelf of writing books and Ueland's book caught my eye. I hadn't looked at it for at least a decade. Her words were magic medicine doses that urged me to carry on.
If you are afraid to begin writing, haven't written lately, or think it's time to put your life's story together for a friend, your children, your grandchildren, or to publish for the masses, Brenda Ueland's book is still available. It may get you going.
"HOW TO WRITE" BOOKS
There are tons of writing tomes out there. If I'm not working on my 1968 novel (working title, "With a Little Help..."), I may blog about a good one I recently discovered; it's about how to understand points of view in fiction.
If you would like recommendations about writing books (or just wish to say hello) send me a message through the blog.
Learning never ends. And that's good.
Happy Reading and Writing!
I recently discovered two photos. Both are dated 1960. I was in third grade that school year, the year my parents and I moved from Silver Bay back to our farmhouse in Harris, Minnesota. (About two months later we moved back to Silver Bay.) The pic above was taken at the farm. Soon after our move.
Once Upon a Time...
Years ago I was writing a memoir about the neighborhoods in my life, especially childhood years in Minnesota – including our family farm in Harris and our years in Silver Bay. Some of past blog entries were helpful as I put together material for the book.
A writer friend read a chapter or two of my stories, and told me I was wasting my time writing a bio - since I wasn’t famous, who would read it? Her comment turned out all for the best. My favorite books when I was a kid were Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden mysteries. I dreamed of writing a novel about girl detectives, and put my energy into writing my e-book The Missing Photo Mystery.
But now, after posting some childhood photos on Facebook, I’m tempted to return to my memoir. Have hundreds of printed pages still waiting in a file cabinet. But I’m unsure about the project. Not because I’m a non-famous person, but because I’m not sure about the truthfulness of my memory.
The girl in the photo above doesn’t look like a miserable sad-sack to me. But for years I knew I hated moving back to Harris. I knew my time there was dreadful - riding the bus to school in North Branch, being the new girl in class, living in a farmhouse without central heating. That’s the story I told myself. Here's the second photo I found.
I see the same happy girl. Both pics were shot at our farmhouse. I recognize the walls. The place and dates on photos are contemporaneous evidence of that time.
Can we always trust it? Or do we revise memories as time passes? I believe now it was a difficult year for my parents, not me. I’ve woven my parents’ anxiety at the time, and their fears and worries together with my own emotional memories.
If I do return to writing a story about my life’s neighborhoods, I may have to shelf it with other fiction. And here's a possible opening line… “This is not a memoir.”
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| House on Banks Blvd. Fourth Grade. |
In September of 1959, I turned eight. If I'd been born 12 days
later, I would have been in second, not third grade. And graduated with
the Silver Bay class of 1970 instead of '69.
When were school photos taken? Beginning or end of the year? I wonder if this was shot in the spring. I'm biting my lip, kinda got a smirk on my face (2nd row, 2nd girl from left). Makes me think I'm "glad to be back." By that, I mean back in Silver Bay, especially back to Mrs. Lyson's class at Campton School.
It was a strange year. A year full of family tension. A year that included a move back to the family farm, of months when I rode the bus to school and being the new girl in class. I could, and maybe I will, build a novel about the events in my childhood during this time. I have a notion if we had stayed on the farm.. if I had remained a student in North Branch, I would have become a different person with a far different life... maybe run away from home in high school and joined the hippies in San Francisco.
I am in second grade. My teacher is Mrs. Sarf. She's big and tall. Sometimes she scares me.
I'm learning to spell. Some days we stand around the room in single file. Mrs. Sarf says a word and when it's our turn we have to spell it out loud. Sometimes two words sound the same but mean different things and are not spelled the same. Did you know a slice of pie is spelled "piece" of pie? But at Christmas when you hear "peace on earth, good will to men" it's not spelled like piece of pie?
At the beginning of the year Daddy and I walk to the public library. It's really close to our house. It's in a green building. The police office is in the same building. The library is on the end near Banks Blvd. Daddy gets a library card. I look at all the books in the children's section. There are a lot of books to read.
One day I find a book on the library shelf that is the same book we have in our desk at school! It's for when we do science. But we don't take the book out of our desk much. I have Daddy check it out for me. I read the whole thing. It's easy because it's mostly pictures of birds and stuff.
I can't wait until the day when we have "show and tell." I have something to talk about. The girl in my class who knew how to spell piece and peace reads a lot and is smart. She might want to know about the public library in the green building. For "show" I bring the science book from the library.
My teacher doesn't like my "show and tell." I want to sink through the floor when she is mad at me in front of my friends. She calls my house. I should not take out any of my school books from the public library. I will be bored at school if I read those books at home. That's what she tells my mom. I thought my mom would be scared of my teacher, too. But she's not. Mom tells my teacher it's my teacher's job to make sure I'm not bored at school. And it's good thing I like books.
Although we rarely used our science book, one spring day we take a "science field trip." We walk to our teacher's house. Her husband trapped a beaver. The beaver's skin is stretched out on a board. The little feet are in a small cardboard box on the lawn.
Science wasn't just pictures of pretty birds and animals. I learned more about that later in high school - when we dissected fetal pigs in biology class. Oh, the smell of formaldehyde...
