Out of the Blurry Darkness by Janine Donoho

How cataracts affect vision

How cataracts affect vision

Like a lobster in a pot of cold water, over this last decade the water heated to boiling, yet I’ve been unaware. High desert sun initiated a progressive slide toward dwindling eyesight long before sunglasses offered more than a fashion statement. All that sunshine led to cataracts, which combined with extreme nearsightedness, ended in a debilitating cartoon fall last April. Small stuff compared to seeing the world in blurred and murky outlines, especially in dim light.

Retinal detachment with floaters

Retinal detachment with floaters

Then in January, I stepped onto a fraught road back to vision, shepherded by my fabulous ophthalmologist. Over five months bookended by cataract removal, she also repaired retinal tears—repeatedly—which pushed back my quest for sight. The unintended journey filled me with dread of what could become constant nightfall.

More than anything, I missed my lifelong habits of reading or writing. Gone, the effortless navigation through my rural surroundings. Without binocular vision, tiny rivulets of erosion appeared like canyons, the high points like mountaintops. Perspective flattened. I dreaded another tumble that could compound long-term issues from the first one. Can I just say I’m not a graceful dependent? Thus, a dark night of the soul indeed.

How we see perspective

How we see perspective

Finally in late May, I emerged as a sighted person with only minimal correction. When sprung from the gloom, we went mobile and off the grid, traveling to visit friends in Oregon and family in Nevada, then back again. Then we took off for more exotic climes, disembarking in Japan. More on these adventures in future posts.

Now I’m back in my mountain home, surrounded by brilliant hounds, who shadow me as I pluck a fall offering of tomatoes, cucumbers, and melons—thank you drip system. Then on to winter prep, while anticipating a blissful season in my writing cave. In other words, paradise.

Fall garden harvest

Fall garden harvest

I look forward to reaching out again to those who follow this post along with those readers anticipating new works. Thank you for your patience, my friends, and know you’re always welcome into my worlds.

Reflections of beauty in the garden

Reflections of beauty in the garden

That (@*#^ Edit Cycle by Janine M. Donoho

A few editing books that help

A few editing books that help

Let’s start with a confession–of sorts. My greatest joy in writing comes with the hot, fast gallop of first drafts. By then the story’s bones and sinews have developed enough so that each session equates with a joyous fleshing out of details. During this phase I can’t wait to leap from bed each morning–and hit the pillow enthralled by story each night.

Then looms the dragging, nagging edit. Some otherworldly creatures find this stage fun; I find it excruciating.

This is different than the macro-edit housekeeping accomplished while writing draft. Reviews of previous day’s work cover structure, plot, tone, pace, etc. I almost wrote ‘theme’, but that’s not always clear in the early stages. Along the way, I deepen conflict and sharpen reversals.

Worse yet, my après draft edits rarely clear the high jumps, much less the double ‘oxers‘, although I do fine over ditches and logs. What’s missing? Well, the heart pounding excitement’s gone, baby, gone. Only a plodding satisfaction remains. Which should be enough, right?

Self talk: “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’m disciplined and well-read. Both sides of my brain receive high quality nourishment and play well together. I can do this.”

Beyond the analysis of editing books, then applying what I learn, I’ve tried other ballyhooed remedies to make this work. The manuscript, hereinafter known as ‘mss’, rests like a freshly broasted chicken while I work on other projects. I do yoga–breathe–meditate–breathe–take long hikes–breathe. Then I go through the mss and ruthlessly scribble editing and proofreading marks learned in the aforementioned tomes. At that point I return to my computer and make these changes.

Then it’s time to surrender fully to the left brain for reviewing content, consistency in style, clarity and flow. I crawl ant-like over scenes for grammar, word usage and accuracy. Finally I read it aloud–or try. After a few pages, I realize I’ve gone silent again–and again–and again.

Cactus prickly pearBy this time I find nothing to like about my story and would rather walk barefoot in a prickly pear patch than read through it once more. My aversion signals the next stage. The mss goes to one or two first readers–published authors with whom I trade this boon.

They always find misspellings and points of unintended confusion. Yes, actual gnashing of teeth and clenched jaws transpire. How did I miss these obvious errors?

So I put on my big girl panties and fix them. The story’s deemed the best that it can be. It’s released into the world.

Then I swear, a few days, weeks or months later? A misspelling here, verb confusion there, dropped words, a formatting error that slipped beneath the motion-activated fence. Dissatisfaction plagues me. For what good is editing if it fails to make your story the best that it can be?

So next time I complete a new project, I’m considering a professional editor–one worthy of manna, dark chocolate, and ambrosia drenched in morning dew from hummingbird wings. Oh, and one who won’t break my fragile piggy-bank.Editing

Soulful Pack & One Outlier by Janine M. Donoho

Manny Kartouche' & Nina Sophia, puppyWho are your boon companions? When not writingConnor & Nina or playing with artful things, much of my life revolves around mine. I thought I’d share the nonhuman ones with you. Yes, you’re witnessing unconditional love.Chicken skin love with Mandy, Connor, Ziggy & Gilly Girl


Gilly Girl on lapExcept for Gilly Girl, who’s a cat, after all. To her, I serve as private groomer, comfy lap and she-who-feeds-me-scrumptious-stinky-foods.

Now onto daily edits of FORGED IN MIST, book 2Best garden helper ever - Mandy of MISTBORN CHRONICLES.

Sunrise—Sunset—The Writing Process by Janine M. Donoho

Okay, we skipped the whole writing thing for my first blog. Before we slipped into that relationship, I figured you might want to know me better. Now that you’re more relaxed with me, let me address one of the questions newbie writers often ask. They want to know about ‘process’: that series of actions, changes, or functions that bring about desired results. In my case, this means completed fiction or nonfiction.

This may come as no surprise, but my raison d’etre equates with writing. Yes, admittedly my keenness for the sublime also includes durable family ties, wild bouts of dance, brilliant sight hounds, sun-drenched garden time, and extreme dark chocolate. Oh, and I thrive on the occasional cool mysteries that manifest in northern lights and the like. At the bones, though, the art and act of writing awaken me each morning. What happens after I crawl out of bed becomes my process. Need I tell you of the infinite states of mind this encompasses? However, given the option, I go for maximum joy.

As you know, our first introduction to life’s passions arrives in many forms. The intuitive connections of bow-to-strings, butt-to-saddle, or finger-to-trigger elicit entire lifespans of compelling behavioral choices. Thus, pen-to-paper might be the first visceral act that connects each of us to our inner writer. Of course, that may come years after hearing characters’ voices in our heads or unreeling scenes during long rambles through woods or streetscapes. Who needs medication when you can write?

Let’s begin with a quick survey. How do you put words to paper? Sir Arthur C. Clark swore by his Remington Noiseless Portable, upon which he wrote his first published essay. Joan Didion’s Royal KMM gave her early works voice. Former critique partner and all-around luminous woman, Susan Wiggs relies upon first drafts on legal pads with peacock ink, then finishes with Dragon NaturallySpeak. Most of my writer friends lean toward computers sporting well-behaved software.

Despite my own marked preference for journaling on blank sheets with superb pens, it took a personal computer to truly set me free. No more worries about retyping a page or–gasp–correcting multiple carbon copies. Instead, Commodore 64 allowed me to write an entire novel in six weeks, despite working in test engineering full time while practicing the flawed arts of mommy- and wifehood. In spite of fanatical saving, minor program glitches also gobbled whole chapters. While that novel will never see the light of day, it served magnificently as my apprenticeship in the skill of novel writing. What it bestowed upon me was true process. This entails putting my butt in the chair every day, then writing with blazing speed, internal editor disengaged. After all, there’s always the edit cycle to fix any problems.

Other than handwritten journals, which I regularly shred, my software preference originally ran toward Corel WordPerfect, then to Microsoft Word as more editors tended toward the latter. However, I admit to an abhorrence of programs that profess to write stories for me–pesky systems that excoriate writers to follow their yellow brick road to fame and fortune. After all, who’s the writer here? Even with Word, the nagging editorial functions have been disabled, only reengaged during final draft as a way to find problems I’m too steeped in story to see. Quite simply, I want to give my best voice to those stories ricocheting around my head.

Your physical process may be different. You may need to write your entire story longhand, then speak it into a speech recognition program. Or perhaps you still love your typewriter. Or maybe, like one well-known, deceased author and member of the British Royals, you eat chocolate bonbons with a feather boa wrapped around your neck as your assistant takes dictation. Yum, bonbons…

Other quirky routines work, also. For short stories, a scented candle or incense in keeping with theme can help. When journaling or writing essays, I prefer Yo-Yo Ma’s renditions of Bach. Go figure. Then Putumayo introduced me to CELTIC VOICES‘ Mary McLaughlin, whose Sealwoman/Yundah transported me into the setting of SOUNDINGS. This worked even though my mythic basis proved different than hers.

A pashmina shawl, brought back from Turkey and draped along the back support of my writing chair, serves many purposes: emotional comfort through pleasing texture, color and memory along with physical warmth. The view from my writing room offers a view of the Cascade Mountains across Okanogan Valley. Favorite art by Amy Brown, Rusty Haydon, Jody Bergsma and unknown papyrus artists from Egypt graces my walls. Windstone figurines by M. Pena focus tired eyes on horizontal surfaces unencumbered by office machines. Applied fung shui keeps the energy flowing. Shelves of books line one wall and a closet. Oh, and mornings have proven to be my most productive times; the earlier, the better. It’s quiet in the Donoho household then. My hounds curl on their beds to watch me write. Sometimes their breathing matches mine.

A favorite part of my process, walking meditation, shrank from year-round to three months a year when we moved to these highlands. You don’t wander the Okanogan wilds without packing heat and remaining vigilant. Cougar and wolf and bear–oh, my! Also, we live in open range. When faced with beef-on-the-hoof, my coursing hounds need firm redirection. Furthermore, the snows come in early November and remain through May along my favored hiking routes. Cross-country skiing tempts me every winter until once again my cantankerous knees refuse to let me turn, slow down or stop. Yes, this proves a bit limiting at 3000 feet where paths lead up–or down. Therefore, I switched to indoor equipment to supplement regular dance sessions. It’s harder to get into the meditative zone on an elliptical, recumbent bike or treadmill, but worth sticking with the plan. Mobility definitely beats the alternatives.

What emphatically has not worked for me? Life in a very old fifth-wheel with two hounds, two young cats, and a newly retired husband. This failed miserably. However, you may find such a setting to be ideal. That’s what processes are, finally: particular courses of action intended to achieve results. In my case, that means maximum creativity with outcomes of a novel, short stories, essays, choreographies, costumes, enhanced landscapes…you see where I’m going? Now I want you to go there, too.

Your task, should you choose to accept it–cue MISSION IMPOSSIBLE music–is to explore what frees your truest and most creative self. Whatever revs your engines, blows back your hair or gets you out of bed each morning, be true to that. Never spit in the eye of your Muse–and always thank her for the gifts she bears.

Happy writing!

Soundings, Water Elemental

LaunchFebruary 27, 2015
The big day is here.

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