My Life as a Walking Tetris by Lani Longshore

February 1, 2012 By Leave a Comment

The anthology is in print, we had a wonderful launch party at Towne Center Books in Pleasanton, but the long shadow of the To-Do List is creeping over my joy. Like many of you – probably all of you – I have a lot of irons in the fire. Writing isn’t the only thing I do, so time management is essential. I have lists and charts and graphs in all of my work spaces, reminding me of the endless and varied deadlines that rule my life. In fact, I have so many lists and charts and graphs that I’m starting to think of myself as a Walking Tetris.

My day is broken into chunks, and as one item gets crossed off the to-do list another slips in to take its place. Whatever is left undone at the end of one day is rolled over to the next day. Thus, the weeks also get broken into chunks, with the work of one day slipping into the work for the next.

Sometimes everything proceeds smoothly, but sometimes the piece that slid in so easily prevents the next piece from locking in place. When that happens, by the end of the week my to-do list is as long as it was at the beginning, and now I have another week’s worth of projects to add to it.

When the projects pile up, which is most of the time, even finishing something as exciting as the anthology can get lost in the rush to the next thing in line. Just this once, however, I think I’ll turn the lists over, cover the charts and hide the graphs. Tomorrow I’ll be a Walking Tetris again, ruled by deadlines – tonight I’m reveling in a project completed.

 

 

 

 

 

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Pride and Process by Lani Longshore

January 12, 2012 By

Bragging is frowned upon in polite society, but I’m going to do it anyway. The first anthology of Tri-Valley Writers, Voices of The Valley: First Press, is now in print. The club has dreamed of providing members an opportunity to experience being published, and like all big dreams it never seems quite real when it comes true.

The dream felt real enough in the middle of the process. The club decided to be as professional as possible about the anthology, which meant that members were asked to submit their work – then submit themselves to the review and revision process. The anthology committee collaborated with each submitter in an editor-client relationship. All thirty authors in the book, including the members of the committee, had a chance to experience seeing their words through another’s eyes. The back and forth, give and take of this type of revision proved beyond doubt the truth of the adage that the best writers are re-writers.

After revision, the committee had another opportunity to learn and grow: creating the manuscript. Assembling thirty voices expressing their unique truths in poetry, memoir, travel and short fiction opened our eyes to the way separate stories can be viewed as a whole. There is as much art in deciding where the pieces fit as in deciding what illustration goes on the cover.

Now comes the next step in publication – promotion. The well-bred lady my mother wants me to be must stand aside for the glad-hander, smiling as I swoop down on my friends and family announcing, “Look at this!” Still, when the product one is promoting is as wonderful as Voices of The Valley: First Press, bragging comes easy.

 

 

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Twas two months before Christmas by Julie Royce

December 24, 2011 By

Our critique group gave ourselves a challenge to write a story based on an object and a place. We gave ourselves a year and planned to read the stories at our December meeting. As the deadline approached, Julie Royce found herself enmeshed in a story that would not behave itself. She wrote the following poem instead, and now we offer it as Tri-Valley’s Christmas present to our readers. – Lani Longshore

Twas two months before Christmas,

when away at Retreat,

three patiently waited,

their muses to meet.

We glanced at each other,

eyes locked in blank stare.

in hopes inspiration

soon would be there.

Our characters nestled

all snug in their files,

while visions of brilliance

demanded our wiles.

With Elaine in her bathrobe,

Janie coffee in hand,

we settled to writing,

our courses well-planned.

When from my far bedroom

the walls echoed my yell,

as I thought of the words,

and the drawing from hell.

I fingered the slip,

and swallowed the lump

that rose in my throat

to cause writers’ slump.

Baton and Atlanta,

the words hadn’t changed.

A tough assignment

left me feeling deranged.

When what to my wondering

mind did there lurk,

the germ of an idea

with which I could work.

Like flashes of lightening,

the plot twists they came.

I whistled and typed,

gave characters name.

No adjectives! No adverbs!

just strong verbs – not weak,

Showing! Not telling!

and descriptions not bleak.

The words they came,

on a spectacular roll.

Here a phrase, there a phrase,

I rushed towards my goal.

Then as dry leaves that before

the wild hurricane fly,

my mind met an obstacle,

made me break down and cry.

Those twirling batons

were becoming a pain,

and Atlanta was causing

a major brain-drain.

My story was silly,

a whole lot of trite,

and no further reflection

would make it sound right.

And then in a twinkling,

my other work called.

Nanowrimo was looming,

I had no time to stall.

With not a moment to waste,

from frustrating file fled.

I could visit it later,

for now put it to bed.

I showered and dressed,

rebooted my brain,

slouched back at my laptop,

and started again.

A bundle of words,

I flung on the pages.

I looked like an author,

quite maddened by ages.

My eyes – how they narrowed!

Back firmly on track!

Now the Atlanta monkey

was peeled from my back.

I told my droll little self,

with thoughts swimming smug,

I’d find time for it later,

I gave a pleased shrug.

The rest of the weekend,

I held tight to my plan.

While words flew to the screen,

and first drafts to trash can.

A broad smile on my face,

as I shelved the baton,

would I ever transform

my ugly duckling to swan?

When bronchitis came knocking,

I found myself ill.

and work product dwindled

to practically nil.

Fate again winked its eye,

in an unscheduled twist,

and a heavy dose of hectic

my crazy life kissed.

Courtney landed a job,

she was headed to work.

As an aid to her planning,

her mom was a perk.

I sprang into action,

my boys needed their Granny,

to assist the transition

from Mommy to Nanny.

A week I was gone,

twelve hours each day.

Thoughts of Atlanta

stayed far, far away.

So you’ll hear me exclaim

amidst complaints of my plight,

Merry Christmas to all,

but I had no time to write!

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First Lines, Last Days by Lani Longshore

December 15, 2011 By

One of my critique groups held a story challenge in 2011. We drew slips of paper with the names of an object and a place, and had to create a short story around them. This year one of the suggestions for the challenge is to start with the same first line.

As I scan my writing area, covered with scraps of paper like a forest floor littered with leaves, I wonder if I could use a first line challenge as a way of tidying up before the new year. Perhaps I could tell myself a tale of tragedy: “She took the remains of an old to-do list and noted the items left undone.” Each new scrap of paper would become another plot point in the story. If I were clever, I would turn on a tape recorder as I cleaned and by the end of an hour would have a neater desk and the beginnings of another short story.

Perhaps I could plan a picture book around the artfully created piles: “The soul of design is found in its instability.” I recently saw a book of grocery lists – just random grocery lists. The author had acquired hundreds of lists, photographed them, and published a book. That I almost bought, and someone else surely will.

 If all else fails, I could write a non-fiction piece: “She began the dig on cloudy winter morning, not sure what she would discover in the strata.” I have no doubt that there are papers from the Stone Age at the bottom of the piles on my desk, which might tweak the interest of an archeology magazine.

And a happy year end to you all!

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Treasure by Lani Longshore

December 1, 2011 By

The participants of NaNoWriMo (and congratulations to you all, whether you hit 50,000 words or not) now have the editing to do. Like childbirth, getting the new creation out is only the first part of the job. Next comes the sorting and training, the snipping and shearing, dressing up and dressing down.

For those of us who write fiction, editing – like parenting – is when we get to know the characters we’ve brought into the world. While we might have copious notes about them, there is always room for them to surprise us. One of my critique buddies announced that in his next revision he will make a character he considered secondary the main protagonist. His current main protagonist will have to wait for another book.

As the year dashes to its conclusion, let us take a deep breath and resolve to embrace the sensations of rewriting, even if they aren’t always pleasant. If writing is an adventure, editing is a safari. Somewhere in the wilds of our manuscript something magnificent is hiding, waiting for us to discover it.

 

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NaNoWriMo and me (not) by Lani Longshore

November 15, 2011 By

It’s official – everyone is writing now. Six classes of elementary students in San Jose are officially part of NaNoWriMo, and there are 2000 classrooms across the country participating. Forget about being smarter than a fifth-grader – are you more disciplined than a sixth-grader?

Given that I didn’t actually sign up for NaNoWriMo, I have to say I’m not. I do have a project, which I started before November (so technically I wasn’t eligible to sign up), and I planned to write faithfully every day. That lasted about a week, then life got in the way.

The good news is I’m not dealing with a disaster of Biblical proportions. I’m not dealing with a disaster at all, just competing deadlines for other (non-writing) projects. And the changing of the clocks, which always throws me off. And the beginning of the holidays. And trying my best to avoid left-over Halloween candy, new Christmas candy, and my old favorites that I hear calling, calling . . . .

The other good news is that NaNoWriMo has entered my consciousness. It is another tool to help me stick to good writing habits. I may not make 50,000 words this month, but I am going to get back to my project. I may not write every day this season, but I am determined that next season I’ll do better. For that, thank you, Chris Baty.

 

 

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