Gatekeepers by Janine M. Donoho

17 Jan 2012 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View


Gatekeepers control access. Various mythologies and folktales include sentinels often associated with the underworld: Hades, Anubis, Dormath, and others. In literature, the Wizard of Oz distinguishes himself. On a local level, enforcers include Customs officers, who attempt to regulate flow between Washington State and Canada.
Of course, we can and do serve as our own gatekeepers. As a human who’s led an interesting life, compartmentalizing events provided a survival mechanism. What can happen is that you lose the key to incidents, especially traumatic ones. When recall is triggered, you’re so surprised you wonder, “Who was that person?” These ordeals also offer gratifying insights, for which I’m thankful.
As a writer, illiteracy encompasses the most monstrous of sentries. Those who cannot read are excluded from the richness of life. They must depend upon macro audio or visual cues, missing out on nuances inherent in the written word. Dwelling on a loss of this proportion can literally lead me to tears.
For writers, our greatest nemesis and occasional partner are those editors who guard the entry into brick-and-mortar publishing. They decide whether to accept or reject our work. It all begins with the submission process. A term I personally loathe, submission carries the distaste of obedience and capitulation. In recent times, editors have expanded to editorial groups that include literary agents and even author-paid consultants who filter for them, too. In other words, obstacles to publishing have grown thick to the point of impenetrable.
Which brings me to a thought. Perhaps artists need to find a way to circumvent these blockades. After all, what I really want is to connect with those who appreciate my work. That may mean thwarting those who set themselves up as gatekeepers. With that in mind, please join me here for my next blog, A New Day.

Gates by Janine M. Donoho

09 Jan 2012 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Ornate with Chinese influence
Often gates are physical barriers.  Gates and attached fences serve as devices to exclude, imprison, warn off, intimidate and stake claims… Well, you get the idea. Sometimes they act as invitations. Either way, gates serve as transitions into other spaces. For me, gates impose the ultimate shift between what we know and the extravagant unknown.

Does ‘Keep Out’ come to mind?
Opening gates, whether physical or figurative, allows you to move between one side and the other. Nowhere did this become as concrete as in Malaysia. There you’d often find a gate attached to a wall, then be faced with electronic entry. Often a sentry reinforced the barrier. If you happened to be in a condominium, separate gates guarded each personal vestibule and multiple locks protected final doors. Within a single family home, internal rooms might be defended by separate bolted doors in case of a break-in. Really.

Huge estate with serious gate
This proved remarkable to someone living on a mostly natural 20 acres. We’re surrounded by Ponderosa forest and sagebrush steppe. Since this is cattle country interspersed with open range, barbed wire makes a strenuous argument for staying on your side of the fence, too. With fondness I recall wooden ladders over harsh obstacles. Not here, though.

Wooden gate over
barbed wire
The most obvious local gate equates with a cattle guard. Yes, some locals bar their driveways for purely exclusionary reasons. Such practice and attitude gives me misgivings. However, I’m not pure. Main gateways into the ranch can also impede seasonal hunters, allowing us to live lightly on this wildlife refuge.

Metaphorical gateways cluster around events like birth, illness and death. Social ones include graduations, weddings, and religious ceremonies. These events elicit wide ranges of emotional responses.

I find myself at just such a  juncture now, poised between do-I-stay or do-I-go. To progress toward that answer with me, I invite you to meet me here again for GATEKEEPERS.

Tripping II by Janine M. Donoho

11 Oct 2011 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Rambutan, mangos, papaya…
“One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.” While Henry Miller’s words can be life-changing, actual journeys take me further. Thus, Malaysia trumps even Miller’s edgy writing.
            Now a confession. During the interval between May and now, a case of the doldrums swamped me in a ludicrous attempt to ‘overcome life’. After all, the permanent solution to life is, yes, death. Suffice it to say that a death, a wedding, a breakup, and a retirement scattered among friends and family along with my body’s new and exciting autoimmune responses have rolled me down bumpy slopes and over a few rocky hummocks. Where I am now serves as a dynamic resting point. Cue the music for ‘That’s Life’.
Yum–breakfast dessert
            With little interest in rushing toward that absolute end, let this be a resurrection of sorts–an attempt to celebrate this moment or, if nothing else, occupy this moment. Let me start by celebrating the amazing women I met in Malaysia. Of course, this includes my travel companion, the fabulous and often brilliantly contrary Ah-Ying. She drove us along the wrong side of the road, parked in places too small to possibly accommodate our vehicle and took me on food gathering forays that exemplify her intent to ‘eat her way through Malaysia’. Yes, I was her boon companion in this, too. So much tropical fruit, so little time.
A cuppa with Anna
            I met Anna at her and her partner’s hawker stall, where they offered a brisk trade in locals’ favorite American breakfast. While I passed on the fare, the Malaysian white coffee turned me from teetotaler to current French Roast aficionado each morning. Later at a private club, Anna’s marvelous vocals coaxed me into dancing barefoot with another woman. Somehow we blended Middle Eastern and Malaysian dance sensibilities into a memorable evening.
Juliet’s Fluffy Pups
            During a time when we travelers sharply missed our home dog packs, Juliet shared puppy love from her poodle litter. Fluffy little bundles of fur staved off the worst pangs. Then cut to a night of karaoke where I learned that when someone takes the mike and stands up, prepare to be astonished. Juliet and her guy Robert provided brilliant moments of vocal beauty.
            Can we talk shopping? Ah-Ying, stepmom Joann and Ang Guat furthered the daunting task of accumulating music and costumes for my dance troupe. They marched me through Little India and the best Malaysian shopping centers, then celebrated our successes with sublime traditional Chinese food.
Dr. Tan’s racers
            Then there’s Lin, whose memorable ‘Sh-t, sh-t, sh-t’, offered in the way of a kitten sneezing, made me laugh. She engenders the most blissful approach to life and her circuitous tour of the best hawker stalls and restaurants equates with a professional foodies’ tour. Through her husband, Dr. Tan, a veterinarian and thoroughbred horse trainer, I got close enough to touch, smell, and bliss out those stunning four-legged athletes.
Ah-Ying & Yuk Lin in durian heaven
            Sakmoi, Sean Hoay, Jackie and other teachers proffered both insights and energizing conversation over scrumptious meals. Evidently, Chinese-Malaysian children do not freeze in the bright light of profound learning. While here in the states, parents express concerns over maintaining ‘authenticity’ in our children versus the necessity of learning well and deeply, Chinese-Malaysian graduates participate successfully in this increasingly competitive world. Galvanized by high parental expectation along with after-hour tutorials in physics, mathematics and other tough subjects, their children thrive before rising to become their best selves. Yuk Lin, an attorney who now lives in Singapore, epitomizes this approach to success. For fun Ah-Ying, Yuk Lin and I hiked Penang Hill before eating well of laksa and durian in Balik Pulau.
Women in Ah-Ying’s Family Tree
            After an upscale meal in Kuala Lumpur, we shivered deliciously over ghost tales in Adeline’s plush hotel room overlooking the stunning cityscape. In attendance were the extended family of women in Ying’s tree including Annie and Mei Queen.
Auntie Anna’s Restaurant
            Just before leaving, Ah-Ying and I sat with Auntie Anna, wife to the marvelous Chee, who serves as adviser to the Peat Forest Recovery group. We ate sublimely of beautifully prepared food from Anna’s ‘restaurant’.
           At 36 hours away by planes, trains and automobiles, allow me to raise a cup of coffee to these extraordinary women. I wish you well, my distant friends. Thank you, one and all.
For more pix, go to my Facebook page.

The Good Day by Janine M. Donoho

09 May 2011 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , ,

Sharing my month long stay in Malaysia has been my intent for this blog, however… I came home to an oddly incoherent email from my longtime friend and mentor, Darlene. In this short message, sent midway through my trip, she stated that she had finished chemo and radiation for stage 4 cancer. As it turns out, her lung cancer diagnosis began six months earlier with a ‘sore’ arm for which her then doctor offered aspirin and a pat on the head. A month later, Dar finally went to a doctor who listened, who placed a hand on the exact place where her arm hurt and who diagnosed the pain as a spontaneous break – tumor related. Probably cancer. This is how a world collapses.

Dar and I first met when I was in test engineering. She served with the secretarial pool that glued the engineering office together. We clicked. Her dry sense of humor and attention to detail carried us along with another writer into starting the Peninsula Chapter of RWA (Romance Writers of America), a now highly successful group with a growing alumni of published writers. I served with her as conference coordinator for the colossal RWA conference in New Orleans in the early 90s. We played at smaller conferences, meeting between events for the odd breakfast and lunch. She never lost faith in my writing ability, even as she misplaced her belief in herself as a publishable writer. She and Lloyd moved to Union in Mason County after he retired, yet we continued to connect. Once I moved to the Okanogan and published, I dropped her a line to let her know whenever I had an author event in the Kitsap area. She never came out to play, blaming her diminished hearing or dislike of driving for not making the events. I simply chose not to drive another couple of hours to and from Union for a meet up. Still, we have our history.

That’s why despite having just unpacked after an excruciatingly long return trip, I called another friend for a place to stay before throwing necessities into my recently emptied backpack. For this trip, the VW carried me seven hours to my destination in Kitsap County. From there a daily commute of an hour each way took me for a visit with Dar in her rehab and nursing facility in Mason County. One day the sky opened up and sheeted the road with what felt like tears from great gulping sobs.

She felt too weak to talk much, so first I filled the silence with babble. Then I offered laptop photos of the recent trip along with those from our Okanogan home. This proved too much for her concentration. She slept often, waking to watch court television. Whenever she felt like it, I rubbed her legs, arm, neck and shoulders with an aromatic lotion, then massaged her scalp. Her meals consisted of barely touched white and brown foods intended to digest easily and help patients regain strength, if only to galvanize them to hunt-and-gather for more palatable fare. I brought her offerings of Ben & Jerry’s, pomegranate seeds smothered in dark chocolate, thick clam chowders and whatever else struck her fancy. She barely touched those either. In three day, she moved once from her bed to her chair and back again. My last day, she claimed to have been thrown into the shower by the staff, yet seemed perkier for it. To her room’s impersonal trappings, I added a bowl of bath salts interspersed with tiny shells smelling of the sea she loves and a palm-sized balloon dog of substantial Kelly green glass. Then I headed for Wenatchee to make a doctor’s appointment scheduled 6 months earlier.

Her daughter Terrea’s marrying on May 21st, which coincides with our family’s wedding in Spokane. Once home, I rifled through catalogs for possible mother-of-the-bride choices in the softest fabrics with the bohemian designs Darlene favors. You see, Dar has lost weight she will never gain back. At another time in her life she’d be blissful. Not now. Rather she insists on waiting for a better day to do those things that are important to her. She’s waiting for a good day to talk with her husband of 38 years, to communicate with her children. To talk with her friends. She’s waiting for a day that may not come.

So. Do we wait for those ‘good days’? Or do we surrender to this moment and accept each one as the gift it is? I told her I love her and reminded her of all the ways she has enriched my life. And now, for me, today is a good day. This is a great moment.

Tripping I by Janine M. Donoho

04 May 2011 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , ,

‘I’m going away, I cannot stay, I’m leaving my true love today…’ These words came from a singing round that recalls long bus rides and deep friendships. They also carry with them the excitement and joy of seeing new places and experiencing life outside the box. Which is why when my friend YingYing Lim invited me to travel to Malaysia this year, I jumped at the chance. Okay, jumped wouldn’t be entirely correct. In truth, I counted my rupees and knew, knew that no way could I afford this trip. At the same time, I also knew I could not afford emotionally and mentally to miss this chance. Thus, I’m paying the exorbitant fee airlines charge for 38 hours of transit and going.

My last long sojourn occurred five years ago and encompassed Egypt and Morocco with short stays in Paris and London both between and afterward. The actual Egyptian trip proved more difficult than any other treks before. Almost immediately, my travel partner became ill with a parasite. The places we stayed often challenged the body to recuperate from long jags with public transportation. Additionally, this Muslim-male dominated country tested me on personal issues that no other trip had done. For instance, should I have stayed out of the fray when a feral pack of young males beat and tormented a mother dog and her remaining pup? Probably. But I didn’t. My shock and sadness over how depleted Egypt’s historical wonders had become along with the continuing plundering made me realize I wasn’t interested in returning to this country again. I’ve never felt that way before. Plus, I tend toward being a communicator and many Muslim males simply refused to complete that necessary circle, even for simple questions. Over all, street anger was palpable. The day we flew out of Cairo, the first bombing of disembarking tourists occurred. Still, when I see where Egypt’s going now, I feel guardedly hopeful. In my mind, if the Egyptian musicians I love engage in this transition, Egypt could be fabulous.

 Morocco, our second leg of the same trip, was a completely different experience; full of joyful surprises and natural beauty. I felt that like Turkey, I could live there for a long while and enjoy exploring both history and country in more detail.

Next up–Malaysia with its predominately Malay population that calls itself 60% Islamic has called–and I’m answering. Of Chinese origin, YingYing’s primary family lives in Penang and Kuala Lumpur, while other family members live in nearby states and territories like Ipoh. Having visited and loved Singapore nearly 15 years ago, I’m looking forward to opening myself to this experience, too. Yes, I’m reading the requisite travel books by Lonely Planet, working on my polite Bahasa Malaysia phrases and tossing too many things into my backpack, soon to be distilled into essentials. The old version of ROUGH GUIDE SINGAPORE sits on my desk as does MOUSE CLUTCHING WINTER MELON (Loh Sin Kip Tong Kua) by Kuan Gnat Choo. It’s signed by the family friend to Mee Lian, YingYing’s stepmother, where we’ll be staying for a time. We’ll be hand-delivering this beloved tome to her.

Magical Thinking – Part II by Janine M. Donoho

25 Dec 2010 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , ,

Nina Sophia’s 1st Snowfall – A New World

Don’t you simply love building your own worlds? Whether visual, oral or written, we yearn to create a place we can return to habitually. During the writing process, we must go into this world each and every day. Thus it must be a reality that causes a relentless itch while also satisfying us. As writers, we hope that readers feel the same. While this process comes across as somewhat magical in itself, my premise is that for our worlds to engage an audience, they need certain features. Foremost, you need to disengage your readers’ critics. That means seamlessly arranging an entire world of physical systems, societal taboos and mores, along with rules throughout the entire landscape.

In biology, an ability to see systems comes in handy. Skill in diagnosing a habitat for likely damage, and even failure, can mean the difference between actual life and death. Thus, you need your starting point. Chris Vogler likes to call this the ordinary world. My foundation in MISTBORN TRILOGY begins with a bucolic world without magic. Then, when the curtain between worlds rips open, wild magic invades like a viral attack. Ah, the call to adventure. Rather than revisit what others like Joseph Campbell and Vogler have done so well, let me focus on one aspect, which for me proves the most interesting. That would be the game of ‘what if’, which depends upon critical thought processes.

What if certain species and individuals are genetically sensitive to transformation with the influx? What if others cannot handle the change successfully, either mentally or biologically, as in a cancerous mutation. What if a person who understands the inherent linkage between science and magic, yet who had lost her capability to network, is trapped in this world. What if her abilities are suspect and worse yet, she cannot diagnose the world’s damage without cueing a rapacious predator as to her location. What if a master merchant, who sees himself as quite average and anything but heroic, suddenly finds himself a repository of the extraordinary.

You see how this ‘what if’ game gets played? For me, the play went on for over 1500 manuscript pages. Yes, a trilogy was born. Of course, this process works at every level of conception, including development of species’ physiology, cultures, and even entire universes of worlds juxtapositioned to each other with little to no awareness of the grander scheme. Oh, other than an entire species of beings that travel between, although mostly for scholarly reasons.

The same process goes into the best of other forms of fiction. The parameters for my contemporary fantasy CALLING DOWN THE WIND again started with a societal outsider. Yes, it’s a recurring theme. In this case, a young woman reaches puberty just as a genetic toggle switches ‘ON’. Rue becomes preternaturally connected to natural cycles and beings. Of course, she believes she’s going mental. Her reality issues from a potentially untrustworthy point-of-view. Yes, she’s a teen, yet readers believe in Rue and her journey. Why? Because the rules of her world work according to how she sees it. Then, as she gains confidence in her abilities, so do readers.

You see, we writers set the rules, then play within those parameters. Otherwise, our readers, who we adore, stop suspending their disbelief. Quite possibly, this leads to throwing our tomes across the room in fits of exasperation. As an abused reader, I learned this response firsthand. That experience also galvanized me to write, since I figured I could do this writing thing so much better. A-HEM and blush.

Another world around the corner. What if…

There are many books that have taken us into their worlds, shaped us, then kept us as return visitors. For me, Tolkien’s LORD OF THE RINGS, Guy Gavriel Kay’s FIONAVAR TAPESTRY, Orson Scott Card’s ENDER’S GAME, Anne McCaffrey’s DRAGONRIDERS OF PERN and Patricia McKillip’s RIDDLEMASTER OF HED served this grander purpose. First came fascinated appreciation for these stories along with a willingness to immerse self into them. Later, I returned to read them more critically. Even now, I lose myself in their mastery. Sigh.

Magical Thinking – Part I by Janine M. Donoho

24 Oct 2010 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , ,

No, this isn’t about Joan Didion’s touching year of madness after she lost both her life partner and child, although this blog may shine light on lesser misfortunes. Instead, it pertains to a mutant germ of magical thinking that has begun to permeate our culture. At least, that’s how I perceive the bizarre and perplexing sort of beliefs that encompass THE SECRET and other marketing devices of its ilk.

 

To begin, can we agree that magical thinking could equate with misapprehension? This subject’s tricky, considering anyone who creates also walks a fine line between imagination and madness. I mean, aren’t we somewhat delusional to believe that what we produce might resonate with another person? Perhaps. Maybe there’s comfort in the old political saw that if one person feels a certain way about an issue, there are at least 100 others who feel the same. That would be our herd. However, first we need to eliminate the possibility that we are actually lunatics. Not Nietzsche-style insanity, though. He did end his life locked away, after all. So, when we leave a room and close the door, the room’s still there and the same color as when we left. Okay?

 
Yet I know people who walk too fine a line, then cross over to inhabit the never, never land zone. As mentioned, THE SECRET touted such ‘magical thinking’ with the premise that you could wish what you want into being. When this was first presented on a nationwide broadcast of Oprah, I had this visual of humans everywhere lying in their beds thinking hard about mounds of cash, Lotuses and Lamborghinis in their 12-car garages, and a string of mansions from coast-to-coast. In other words, lots of stuff. Meanwhile, my brain’s screaming, “What about preparation? What about mastering your skills to make this happen?” A few months later, the gurus associated with this remarkable social phenomena issued another directive. You must prime yourself to receive this bounty via preparation, mastery of skills, etc. Whew! Bullet dodged.

 

Or not. Evidently, that message didn’t reach all the people who need to hear it. Thus in my neck of the woods, there are people who, due to lack of preparation, send chills down my spine and cause me to wake up panicked at 3 a.m. Yes, these are people I care about who have decided to accept the original premise. They see nothing wrong with lying on their backs staring at their ceilings…


Can I now add a caveat that just because we can’t perceive a thing does not mean it isn’t there? I mean, it’s only in recent years that science could effectively view a virus. And what about that crazy radiation–unseen but heard via telemetry. Okay, and yes, I have a special place in my heart for masses of fairy folk and others that crowd our world. And synchronicity–that I depend upon. After vast amounts of groundwork, that is.


Without mentioning names, there’s a woman who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Before that, she attended and held meetings of local faith healers, women who believed in variations of healing via prayer, thoughts, touch or almost touch. Again, just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. However, when this woman, who is also a mother, learned of her diagnosis, the healers scattered to the four winds. She still speaks of this event with greater hurt and sadness than the actual cancer, which she treated and evidently eradicated through Western medicine. Yet she and the others had built this world in which healing occurred by other means. Until it didn’t.

Then I’m acquainted with a talented artist, shy as any woodland creature, who lives in a house so tiny that it’s beginning to find fame in today’s less-is-more culture. She creates visual art, then trucks it to farmers’ markets from late spring into mid fall in hopes of generating enough sales to get her through winter. In previous years, before this year-of-the-shoulder, my guy and I delivered loads of firewood to her woodstove-only place along with boxes of human and kitty foods along with other supplies. Her belief has cemented into the view that if she needs something, magically it will appear. In fact, this belief system dominates her life to the point that she refuses to take work-for-pay when it’s offered. Yet last time I saw her, her appearance shocked me. She’s too thin and has begun to lose teeth. Yet she still subscribes to this magical thinking that to me has become frighteningly delusional. I want her to accept a job, fix her teeth and actually pack her own chute. It worries me that we have enabled her illusion of reality. The thought of her causes me to awake in a panic on winter nights when even our 4-wheel Toyota can no longer reach her. What’s the option, though? Finding her frozen and starved body when the spring thaw arrives?

Stories of this kind of delusional thinking continue to grow. Perhaps it’s our tough economy that makes it feel so necessary to so many people. Perhaps it’s a general state of immaturity and unwillingness to accept reality and work to change our circumstances. Where’s critical thinking when you need it? Flabby and unused in the recesses of our brains perhaps? Let me say again that I believe preparation and hard work leads to synchronous occurrences that take me to the next level. I suppose that’s a belief system, too. What about you? Do you pack your own chute or wait for it to magically occur?
 

In part II, we’ll explore how to construct the necessary suspension of belief inherent in building magical worlds. Warning, it requires critical thinking.

Atrophy & Recovery – Part II by Janine M. Donoho

06 Sep 2010 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Last night during a nocturnal wander through the house, during wakefulness fueled by housetraining that adorably cute Italian Greyhound viewed in Part I, I noticed starlight bouncing off the black plastic laid for next year’s garden area. You see, this is one of the most passive and easy returns on preparing soil for new plantings.

Beneath the opaque cover, which soaks up late summer and autumn rays, then cooks the existing seed banks into submission, the organics formerly-known-as-weeds become fuel for astilbe, peonies, anchusa and other faves. Well, an equivalent to this is what happened during my crossover from tech writer with fictional aspirations into novelist. As promised, I’ll share the watershed events that led to this transition.



The equivalent of plastic mulch in my life at that time took me from writing about forced draft blowers, main feed pumps, lithium bromide plants and the ever cool condensers into first women’s fiction, then onto my latest rage of contemporary and high fantasy. Okay, admittedly, FDBs and MFPs can be wickedly geekish and even satisfying to write about, but world building’s way more fun.

 

Allow me to tout two books, which at that time helped me both mentally and emotionally into transition. Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES and Julia Cameron’s ARTIST’S WAY provided both cure and inspiration for what ailed me. Let’s face it, Navalese-speak does not make for a bestselling author, although it does help with keeping to just-the-facts Jack.

Estes’ tome uncovered personal stories, often painful, that thwarted my instincts to probe into the depths and dark places. Then Cameron gave me permission to use those finds to go where story lives. Yes, I’d dabbled in poetry, fiction and playwriting before then, which had been somewhat successful. Let’s face it; a menu that includes twelve weeks of the equivalent of really good dark chocolate for the brain and spirit can take you so much further. Especially when led through the process by Estes and Cameron’s empathetic, yet grounded approaches to healing.
 

Since then, I’ve turned to other geographically remote mentors such as Stephen King’s ON WRITING, Carol Lloyd’s CREATING A LIFE WORTH LIVING, Susan Shaughnessy’s WALKING ON ALLIGATORS and FRUITFLESH by Gayle Brandeis. I’ve even returned to Julia Cameron, although her later works failed to spark the same cascade of light as ARTIST’S WAY, through no fault of hers. We artists are receptive at different times to different magnitudes of inspiration, after all.

 

So if you find that atrophy has set in and hope to recover not only your mojo, but go to a greater level of creativity and productivity, think in terms of mulching your creative beds for your next planting season.

As it happens, I plopped four bags of commercial soil onto my black mulch, cut the tops open, then planted each bag with cold crop vegetables such as arugula, Kweik organic lettuce, endive, pak choy and broccolini. Oh, and I threw a few seeds of Misato Rose radishes and boro beets in for good measure. Next year, that soil will be turned into what lies beneath to further enrich the soil. Yum.
 
So I encourage you, too, to turn to the sources that feed your soul and makes it fertile. It beats atrophy every time. And if a puppy helps you along your way, why not?

Atrophy & Recovery – Part I by Janine M. Donoho

28 Aug 2010 Leave a comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , ,

As physical therapy continues as a mainstay in my life, on a daily basis I confront the vagaries of atrophy. You might have guessed that this isn’t a funhouse by Pink’s or anyone else’s standards. Awakening withered muscles hurts. Rebuilding muscle hurts. For the first time in my adult life, I cannot distinguish between muscle pain and joint pain, which when you’re recovering from multiple screws in the rotator cuff, can really mess with your composure.

Nonetheless, once a week I’m driven like Miss Daisy to a physical therapist who first calms both sane and absurd fears, then manipulates the joint beyond what I’m capable of doing myself. The therapist also assigns new exercises. I tell myself these remedial tricks are more than deceptive smoke-and-mirror pranks. Despite the first six month marathon of supposed ‘recovery’, this one’s imminent, isn’t it? I’m simply in the fireweed stage of renewal after a devastating forest fire, right? Yet without drama, I make weekly, even daily, gains. Nonetheless, there’s often been half a painkiller at about 3 a.m. along with 1-2 icepacks each night.


So what are the corollaries to this if you’ve allowed your writing muscle to deteriorate? For I find myself in that odd space, too. As a lifelong writer, this feels unexpectedly distressing. Also, kind of geekishly interesting. The last time I dealt with this loss of gravity came after years as a primarily technical writer in test engineering. At that time, I faced the blank sheet of fiction with trepidation much like the wasted shoulder.

Now for the fascinating part of this process. You see, at that time, mentors and nonfiction helped me through the there-be-dragons phase. Ultimately, this route turned a ‘what-to-do-with-a-blank-page’ quandary into a vast shift from one career to another. The specifics on how this happened? Well, you’ll learn more in part deux. For your edification and mine, enjoy these views of my summer garden and new puppy. I mean, who doesn’t love a puppy? Now, it’s time for another ice pack.Manny Kartouche' & Nina Sophia, puppy

On Relevance – Part II by Janine M. Donoho

21 Jul 2010 1 Comment

by janinedonoho in A Change of View Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The view from our balcony in Leavenworth.
I had the opportunity to attend Write on the River in Wenatchee this May. Actually, my friend and critique partner Anjali Banerjee was a speaker, so we made it a girlfriend weekend of three that included best buddy and fellow writer Kate Breslin. Since Kate ended up coming a day late due to her spousal unit’s truly wretched bout of gastroenteritis, on Friday before the conference I assisted Anjali as she visited two schools. Incredible writer and presenter both, she gave four different and delightfully relatable programs for various elementary school grades. Introducing her, then juggling props, especially wrapping and unwrapping children in a stunning sari that belonged to her mother, I got a good taste of the peripheral nature of a sidekick. Yes, ‘relatable’ and ‘peripheral nature’ both refer to relevance.
 
Then on Sunday, opportunity again shone when Larry Brooks, who writes critically acclaimed thrillers, spoke passionately about The Six Core Competencies of Successful Storytelling. This offered another view of storytelling as espoused by Christopher Vogler’s “The Writer’s Journey” and more recently by Donald Maass’ “Writing the Breakout Novel”. However, Larry’s approach, soon to be followed by his book on the subject, clarified the process even further. One of the samples he gave for dissection was the movie Collateral, starring Tom Cruise and Jamie Fox. Dutiful student of the craft that I am, the movie arrived via NetFlix the following week. It delivered on all of Larry’s elements.
 
However, the shocker of the day arrived as an aside. Larry claimed that actual writing, that sublime weaving of words, comes in dead last when weighed against concept, theme, character, structure, scene execution and writing voice. Last.


Leavenworth goat–apropos of this writer’s journey.
As a writer enthralled with both the import and nuance of words, this served as a body blow. All the books on my shelves, also known as ‘keepers’, are well written. However, Larry’s notion does explain many of the big brands in publishing, some of whom no longer write their own novels. So to be relevant to publishers, the six core competencies are paramount, while beauty and specificity of your words rank much lower. Ouch.
 

Which means I need to review my stories for those competencies–again. Maybe you’ll want to do the same. Perhaps publishers will overlook that they’re also delivered with well-written language. We want to be relevant after all.

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Soundings, Water Elemental

LaunchFebruary 27, 2015
The big day is here.

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