Writing time; Lady of Shalott

[pegkerr]

I used to devote a block of time every night, 8:30 to 10:00 p.m., Monday through Thursday to writing, when I was working on my last two books. But then I was badly blocked after finishing Swans, and gradually, in the years since then, that writing time was given up to other things as stuff was added to our schedule and time got squeezed out. Monday night is family night and also the night Rob and I do our weekly money meeting. The girls are staying up later now. I’m getting up earlier now to exercise, so I’ve been going to bed earlier, too. And I’ve gotten on the Internet since writing my last two books, too, and the delights of LiveJournal, etc., have also eaten into my time.

But I’ve added the sliver of writing time in the morning, and now I’ve decided to re-devote at least Thursday nights to writing (after the girls are in bed). No LiveJournal, or at least not until after 10:00. This is a step in the right direction, and I hope to gradually add more. I’m starting to feel like a real writer again. It may sound funny to hear that someone who had written two books and seen them published might doubt that she’s a real writer, but that’s what the block did to me. It is such a relief to feel that things are moving in the right direction again, and that I’m regularly sitting down to write and sometimes, sometimes words even come out of that mysterious place where my imagination resides. Some of them are even pretty good.

I was listening today to Loreena McKennitt’s rendition of "The Lady of Shalott" on her album "Live in Paris and Toronto," and it occurred to me today for the first time that here is another story about heart of flesh/heart of stone. When the Lady looked at Lancelot—allowed herself to love, in other words—the "mirror crack’d from side to side." I think of A.S. Byatt’s essay on ice=glass=stone. Becoming human means daring to love. Unfortunately, her daring only brings her death. (How depressing!)

Isn’t that what I’m writing about in this book? Becoming human/choosing the heart of flesh/loving means accepting impermanence/death (like the fact that the ice palace will melt). Lois McMaster Bujold said (was it in Barrayar?) that bringing a child into the world means bringing in a new life--and a new death. Rolf hopes to cheat death by living forever. Solveig (and later Jack) opposing him, know better. They live and love, but that means accepting that they will die.

Hmm. (Goes off to think some more.)

Peg

Comments

[ajodasso.livejournal.com]

Loreena is constantly tied with Tori Amos in my book for the position of Favorite Female Singer/Songwriter/Recording Artist. Live in Paris & Toronto is the album I listen to most often, without a doubt, though The Visit was the very first CD I ever bought (when I was 13), and my collection just grew from there. I admire her way with setting Romantic poems to music. Her rendition of The Highwayman is also frequently on repeat in the evenings...

Loreena McKennitt

[pegkerr.livejournal.com]

It was a picture of Loreena McKennitt that sparked The Wild Swans, although I had never heard her music before. The description of Eliza, my main character, is entirely based upon her, albeit at a younger age. I mentioned in the author's afterward the dream I had that started the book. In my dream, I saw a woman dressed in black sitting on a park bench on a gray day, watching swans swim in the pond in front of her. The woman didn't speak, but I thought she looked beautiful. I was trying to decide what book to write next, and the swans, and the woman's silence, made me think of the Hans Christian Andersen story "The Wild Swans."

A few days later, I was paging through the newspaper, and saw a picture that made me pause. "That looks like the woman in my dream," I thought. Long, wispy hair, a face that was unusual, rather than classically beautiful, with eyes that looked right through you.

A few days after that, I was listening to the radio, and heard this gorgeous soprano voice I'd never heard before singing "The Bonny Swans." I had swans on the brain because of my dream, so I stopped to listen, spellbound. "That was Loreena McKennitt," the announcer said. "Tickets for her concert are now on sale."

Loreena McKennitt? Wasn't that the name of the woman I'd seen in the picture in the newspaper, the one that looked like the woman in my dream? I dug the newspaper out of the recycling stack and checked, and sure enough, it was her. Obviously, the universe was trying to tell me something. I went to the phone, ordered the tickets and went to the concert. I went out during intermission and bought every single one of her CDs and have listened to them ever since. I borrowed "the look" in the newspaper picture for Lizzie (Eliza's modern doppelganger) in the magic shop scene. I particularly listened to "The Mask and the Mirror" compulsively while writing The Wild Swans, and I use bits of her songs for chapter epigraphs.

Peg

[ajodasso.livejournal.com]

It seems to me that either Loreena almost never tours in the US, or I'm cursed as far as my location is concerned. I've lived in the northeast my whole live, and not once in all my years of living here in proximity to Pittsburgh or in New England has she ever come close. Of all the singers I've ever loved, I want to see her the most, and I'm beginning to think I'll never get the chance.

"Live in Paris & Toronto" is probably my overall favorite album, but then, it's an unusual item: completely and totally live. As the standard-recording albums go, I'm fondest of The "Mask & Mirror" and "The Visit". I have some favorite songs on "Elemental" and "Parallel Dreams", though--"Ancient Pines", "Dickens' Dublin", "Annachie Gordon", et. al. She's simply too amazing. "Dante's Prayer" and "Lady of Shalott" would have to be my all-time favorite songs, though. With a possible second-place--"The Dark Night of the Soul".

I've never read any of your books, I'm afraid to report *wry grin* I noticed about a month ago that you had friended me, and I thought, Who's this? So I went and took a look at your journal, and after reading through a few pages of entries and looking at your info, I thought, A professional writer? Well, this could be fascinating! I've just been watching quietly; I'm an aspiring writer myself, but I'm not yet out of college, and this is largely because I've switched majors. I'll have to look into you, though. LiveJournal's such a strange phenomenon; it's everything from an extension of fandom to a mass communication system. Never ceases to amaze me:)

(Sorry, the first time I posted this, the ending was cut off!)

[ajodasso.livejournal.com]

(Ye gods, but LJ is being difficult today! I hope we're finally straightened out. My re-post of that comment managed to triple itself.)

[http://users.livejournal.com/anam_cara_/]

Your post reminds me of 'Sand and Water' by Beth Nielsen Chapman, so, so sad, but I love the song.
"All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water, and a million years gone by"

[ari-o.livejournal.com]

I read a quotation recently by Philip Pullman:

"Read like a butterfly and write like a bee."

I find your posts fascinating because you are a writer. An active published writer. A REAL writer.

I always feel like a liar when I tell people I'm a writer - because I don't have a book I can hand them. And I just got turned down by 6 MFA programs. (Wait-listed at Sarah Lawrence) I only have a few small publications. And I go for periods of up to a month without doing any serious writing.

I know I have to get back into a routine of working every day or at least most days.

My novel is unfinished - my novella is unfinished. I have short story ideas coming out of my ears...

I should never have let myself start writing fanfic... Though I do learn from that too.

Thanks Peg. You are amazing.

-katie

[ex-sallygard858.livejournal.com]

I always feel like a liar when I tell people I'm a writer - because I don't have a book I can hand them. And I just got turned down by 6 MFA programs. (Wait-listed at Sarah Lawrence) I only have a few small publications. And I go for periods of up to a month without doing any serious writing.

Don't believe it. If you write, you're a writer. And only snobs chop it up into "serious" and "not-serious." Go read some Julia Cameron, and you'll feel better. ;-)

And we all have slack/fallow periods. Those are needed, too, and part of the process. I think of the writing life as being like Hemingway's "iceberg": most of the process is submerged below the surface of the ocean, and the part that is visible -- the tip of the iceberg -- is just a small portion of the whole.

My own mother snorted at me in a phone conversation when I referred to myself as a writer. "Since when?" she said. "Since, what the hell do you think I've been doing with my life for the past fifteen or twenty years?" I said.

See, I got caught in the trap of defining myself by what I do to pull a paycheck, when the truth is that it is the act of reading and reflecting and writing and discussing ideas that is my true Occupation (yes, capital O) in life.

I'm currently cashiering to pull in the income, and looking for additional part-time employment to fill the gaps. In the past I've been a web site editor, computer operator, and all around office worker and word processor. But none of that is who I am. And when I recently caught myself telling an interviewer that my occupation is "cashier," I said to myself, whoa, whoa, whooooaaaa.

And I have vowed, from this time forward, to always give "writer" as my occupation, regardless of whether I am currently getting published and regardless of whether I am making so much as a penny from that writing.

[pameladean]

It might be worth considering that the Lady's daring only brings her death, only that, because Tennyson wrote the poem and his imagination of women was, shall we say, limited. Death, yes; only death, I think that's just Tennyson's problem.

Pamela

[klostes.livejournal.com]

isn't it interesting how music and musical artists can affect our work? I'm another Loreena fan; the "etheric" or otherworldly qualities of her music seem to be particularly effective for my writing--not to mention the literary qualities of her lyrics (not just the ones taken straight from poems and plays.) Another band I find working very well for my current story is "October Project." Not as ethereal as Loreena, but still powerful and evocative and with unusual voices.

Heart of stone/heart of flesh. I often wonder how current and future medical advances are going to affect our society as we learn more and more to stop the body's decay, to stave off death. And how much of the heart of flesh involves accepting not just impermanence and eventual death, but accepting loss and sorrow and pain throughout as well. There are many who would agree wiht your Rolf that the heart of stone and immortality are best, no matter their cost. Yet do they realize that true joy many times requires knowledge of sorrow? What's the worth of something that you can't truly enjoy no matter how long it lasts?

Urgh. Sorry, waxing philosophical on your journal, and just when you'd determined not to pay as much attention to it as you do to your writing. That time issue seems to always be the thing; I'm trying to carve out at least an hour every day--should be easy, but it's not always there--or my motivation isn't. I wish you well in your goals!