Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 14 Comments

For the love of…dog

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Papa Hemingway and one of his muses cats.*

Cats get a lot of love in the literary world–and not just in my writer-filled Facebook feed.

Last month, the The Guardian posted a creative writing Top Ten that went viral: “Buy a cat, stay up late, don’t drink: top 10 writers’ tips on writing.” (Two out of three ain’t bad, Hemingway.)

No. 10 on the list: get a cat, from writer Muriel Spark (or, a character of hers, anyway) who says:

If you want to concentrate deeply on some problem, and especially on some piece of writing or paper-work, you should acquire a cat.

Amen, says this writer, who admires the clean and aloof companionship provided by a cat. One better: I could do more than acquire a cat (or cats, as I have in the past); I could steep myself in the literature of cats, of which there is plenty. Here, from bibliophile blogger Bookish Beck, would be a good place to start.

Instead, I must delve into the world of dog. Why?

Because, people, I am about to be overthrown. Yes, this cat-lover is on the cusp of acquiring a dog.

And so, at a time when other people might be researching breeds or stocking up on carpet cleaner or dog chow… When others might be drawing up a contract to divvy the responsibilities between one Rust Belt Girl and the men with whom she shares a household–one regular and two pint-sized… I’m doing what I’ve always done to confront a problem.

Stare it down? Address it head on? (Have we met?)

I read around it.

D-O-G. Sounds simple enough, right? Feeding, caring, sheltering. I mean, I have done this before. As a kid, my family in Ohio had a beagle mix named Anne (after my best friend–sorry, friend). But Anne was an “outside dog” with a dog house. Before you start to worry, yes, she was allowed in the house on snowy days and nights. But no one would have thought for a second to let her onto the couch much less into a bed.

However, my current cohabitants don’t want an outside dog; they want a new member of the family. And a puppy at that.

And so…I delve into the literary world of the dog, which, I have to say is much more playful than that of the cat. Not better, just very different.

There’s a lot of outside–away from writing implements–that happens with dogs in print (and on screen). Here on WordPress, one blogger finds her faith strengthened on hikes with her dog, Belle, a Border Collie mix. Another blogger, at Poppy Walks the Dog, does just that with his Japanese Chin, Mimsy. Meet her here.

Poppy provides the upside to the supposed downside of severing oneself from the current WIP (chapters 1 and 2 revised, only 16 more to go, if you’re following), poop bag in hand to walk around the block:

Ambling yields the real benefit to these walks. Time. Time to think. Time to contemplate the news and social media that I left behind in the house. Time to remember and reflect on friends and family.

Time. Remember that thing? Could it be that I might find more time–more head space to create–by acquiring and walking a dog?

The reflecting on family part sounds especially intriguing. After all, this dog will be a joint responsibility, right? Right?

And so the reading around the dog question hasn’t stopped with me. Together, my boys and I listened to and loved the audio version of One Dog and His Boy, a “canine classic,” according to this review.

And then, in the middle of my reading of Bonnie Jo Campbell‘s latest story collection, Mothers, Tell Your Daughters, I met Roscoe, a stray dog who arrives at the home of a pregnant woman who decides to take him in:

…here was a living, breathing creature who needed me now, and in my fifth month, maybe my hormones were talking, too.

Or maybe those hormones were screaming, as the pregnant protagonist comes to believe that Roscoe is her late, handsome, philandering fiance, Oscar, come back to life as a twenty-pound mutt. The story is a wonder of intelligence and, well, wonder: mystery.

So, that’s where I am in my literary dog journey preceding my actual dog journey. Can’t say I’m not a planner–if only in (literary) theory.

Do you have a cat muse? A dog muse? Help a girl out here. I need advice.

Closing with the literary cliche that isn’t: a boy (mine) and a dog (neighbor’s). Stay tuned… ~ Rebecca

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*Hemingway photo courtesy of beekman1802.com

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 6 Comments

a bit of writerly advice

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This is my advice:

Think of yourself as a worker.

Show up at the job.

 

–novelist, memoirist, essayist, and craft book writer Sandra Scofield

Still working through Scofield’s The Scene Book to help me revise my WIP, a behemoth historical novel manuscript.

And work is just what it is. Okay, some days are better than others–the synapses firing at a clip. Sometimes it feels like crafting; once in a while it even feels like making art.

For me, mindset matters. Work demands discipline; I’m responsible to it. No one calls in late for work with excuses like, the muse didn’t speak to me or the mood wasn’t right.

Later today, much of the U.S. will watch two teams of men go to work. We call it play, but my guess is they don’t.

Tomorrow, muse or not, mood or not, it’s back to work…

 

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 9 Comments

Kill your inklings

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I’m playing fast and loose with the English language today, redefining inkling as: a little inking, or a bit of writing, a literary snippet, if you will. This post is in response to today’s Daily Prompt: Inkling.

Rust Belt Girl followers know where I am in my journey toward traditional book publishing. Rather than call myself stalled in editing, I’d like to say I’m at a rest stop along the journey–one of those rest stops with a fabulous overlook. Only, I’m not looking out onto rolling farmland or a lake vista. I’m looking over my WIP (a historical novel manuscript) and trying to do more than edit. I’m trying to genuinely revise–or re-see–my story.

This requires brutality.

This requires killing my inklings, my snippets of lovely language that don’t move the story forward, that don’t evolve the characters, that maybe draw too much attention to themselves.

Today’s dead inkling:

Pregnancy had meant an intense inversion, feeling sensations from the inside—hosting, feeding, growing this glorious parasite.

In the days of printing out drafts–huge reams of paper–I would actually snip this snippet and put it in a jar I have for such things. Then, if I felt blocked or needed a prompt for a new story, I would select one and start from there. Today, my dead inklings wind up getting lost in my Mac world.

William Faulkner is credited for “kill your darlings,” and there’s been discussion about that phrase and other great writing advice here at WP this week.

But, now I’m getting down to it: slashing and burning.

What’s your favorite dead inkling?

 

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 7 Comments

a bit of writerly advice

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Give a monkey a monkey bar.

—David L. Robbins, novelist, educator, playwright, essayist

No, I’m not talking about the zoo–unless that zoo is the wonderful world of novel manuscript revision (did my sarcasm shine through there?).

Rust Belt Girl followers know I’m currently reworking my historical novel, chapter by painstaking chapter. And, as with most things, I’m not doing it alone.

Robbins–quoted above–taught a historical novel-writing course as part of my grad program, way back when, when the first little seed of my novel was planted.

His advice is evergreen. To me, “give a monkey a monkey bar” means to give a character something to showcase what he or she can do. Phone calls and meandering strolls don’t let a character prove their worth–unless he suddenly realizes he’s lost his voice or she breaks a leg.

Today, I’ve dumped a scene where I had two guys sitting in a bar exchanging information in favor of a steep trek into the clouds of the Marin Highlands where a WWII battery fortification is being constructed. We’ll see if the scene goes or stays.

But advice is always welcome.

What’s your best writing advice?

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 27 Comments

Me talk pretty one day*? Probably not.

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Mentor-on-the-Lake (pronounced Menner-on-the-Lake), Ohio. Photo credit: Bill Moon. Thanks, Dad!)

“You sound funny,” my son said.

“I know. I’m from Ohio.”

Too many of my conversations with my kids begin this way. But it’s true:

I sound funny here in Maryland. I am a linguistic fish out of water. My Maryland-born kids and I may speak the same language, but regionalisms and accent say a lot.

This time, my recorded voice was one half of a mock interview conducted by my son. I played the author of a book he’d read for a second grade school project. He sounded normal; I sounded every bit of my Cleveland-area upbringing.

Of course, growing up, I thought I sounded normal. Because Clevelanders “do naht hayev ayaccents.” Whether you cop to having an accent or not, they can raise spirited debate; they do in my house, where my Maryland-native husband’s “league” somehow rhymes with “pig.” Huh?

Accents seem to be having something of a heyday. Last month, a Bawlmerese–that’s Baltimore-ese–video went viral; in it, innocent words like “water,” “Tuesday,” and “ambulance” are murdered to become “wooder,” “Toosdee,” and “amblance.”

Back in my native land, Cleveland’s Belt Publishing has just published How to Speak Midwestern by Edward McClelland, who says:

Accents are part of our regional identity. And there is a feeling that these distinct accents aren’t as distinctive as they used to be.

In addition to regionalisms (like “pop” instead of “soda”), accents are a way to represent one’s native place. I do this with not a bit of shame! My “plaza”–hold your nose and you’ll get the a-sound right–is my son’s “plahza”; my “pajamas” is his “pajahmas.”

In this article, McClelland explains that the Cleveland accent is the Inland North accent, “marked by a raised ‘a’ that makes ‘cat’ sound like ‘cayat,’ a fronted ‘o’ that makes ‘box’ sound like ‘bahx.'”

What does all this mean for us writers?

Accent can be portrayed in our writing, and it can work well if done with a deft hand. In my current WIP, I’m writing characters who have an Italian accent, which often drops the “h” sound and rolls or taps the “r” sound–there’s a real musicality there. Not easy to write, but worth it to try.

Veering into dialect can get a little dicey. This Guardian article puts it plainly:

“Do ‘dialect-lite’ or be damned.”

Whether blogging or engaging in other creative writing, accent can provide interesting subtext.

Does your accent shine through? What do you say funny? I’ll start, below.

Comment here or join this Rust Belt Girl on FB.

*Title borrowed from the amazingly funny David Sedaris’s book of essays: Me Talk Pretty One Day

 

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 11 Comments

Hold up, wait a minute: Rust Belt Girl on ice

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Lake Erie, iced. One of the Lake Erie Islands (Green Island), is in the distance. (Thanks for the pic, Dad!)

Hold up, wait a minute. Hold up, wait a minute…

Nope, you haven’t stumbled on a 90s music blog (but if you now have that old club song in your head, you’re welcome!)

Here at Rust Belt Girl, I promised a new thread this new year: a journey into the terrifying abyss that is the world of book publishing. That’s agent querying, novel synopses, novel submitting, etc.

How’s it going so far?

Um. Yeah, that.

Let’s just say, like so much of the Rust Belt at present, this Rust Belt Girl is on ice–at least as far as that project.

What happened?

Shall I add another metaphor into the mix? Well, I got the cart before the horse (ie: the agent query letter, synopsis, etc.) before the manuscript itself. And, really, the horse is a little bit lame. Not so much that it has to be put down or even put out to pasture. (Yep, I’m just running with this metaphor.) But maybe re-shod, rested, exercised–certainly made stronger. Race horse strong.

Who says?

A former writing teacher of mine, an author and editor whose feedback I trust wholeheartedly.

What now?

Thaw out? Get back on the horse? (Can I stop talking about ice and horses?)

Really though, I’m revising my novel manuscript (yet again) because I only get one chance with agents, and I don’t want to blow it. I’m really trying to “re-see” this story that’s been with me for years; these characters that I’ve known longer than I’ve known my own kids, which is a little crazy. It’s not an easy task to really re-envision an 86,000-word manuscript, and so I can’t rush it.

“Time is a great editor,” said my editor friend.

So, bear with me if this thread takes its time.

I mean, there’s an order to things–like seasons and horse-drawn things, right?

In the meantime, more writing advice I pick up from experts along my way; more reading (and emulating!) great books; more author interviews.

And…in the publishing vein, more submitting short stories to journals and magazines. Keep your fingers crossed (and frost-bite free) for me.

Happy weekend! What’s on tap for yours? ~ Rebecca

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 1 Comment

a bit of writerly advice

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Free image courtesy of KathrynMaloney at Pixabay.com

Think that’s a scene?

Sandra Scofield will tell ya:

In a scene, “Something changes or is revealed or new questions are raised; the ground is laid for future events, or the meaning of past events is made clear; characters show themselves to be who they are and make demands on one another. The story is moved along, often through conflict. The protagonist acts and is affected in some way. This happens through decisions and external acts, the stuff of change.”

As you see, today’s writing advice pertains to fiction writing and, specifically, the crafting of scenes. We all think we know what a scene is. But author Sandra Scofield makes sure we do with her classic craft book, The Scene Book: A Primer for the Fiction Writer.

Once we know exactly what a scene is and how to identify it in our stories…then what?

More fave advice from Scofield: put a box around them. (Yes, print the pages of your story or chapters out, and draw a box around each and every scene.) This way, it’s easy to see how much of your story is scene and how much is summary. This way, you can gauge if you have too much of one and not enough of the other. This way, you can easily shift scenes around so they add up to your best story.

On my to-do list today!

Happy writing. ~ Rebecca

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark · 1 Comment

a bit of writerly advice

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As a gift to celebrate the birth of my twins (more than eight years ago!) a good friend gave me a book, Writing Motherhood, by award-winning writer and educator Lisa Garrigues. (Many thanks, again, R.!)

In the book, the author draws from her own efforts to balance motherhood with writing and shows that mothering “provides endless material for writing at the same time that writing brings clarity and insight to mothering.”

Some of her best advice applies to mothers or anyone else feeling emotionally and physically drained by the rigors and responsibilities of life:

[They ] arrived feeling physically exhausted and emotionally spent–in some cases “brain-dead”…they discovered that motherhood need not be an impediment to creativity. On the contrary, it can be a limitless source for story–a mother lode, if you will.

Write on!

 

 

Posted on by Rebecca Moon Ruark

a bit of writerly advice

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Good for a Monday morning, here’s advice I ignore all too often:

Nulla dies sine linea

In Donald M. Murray’s classic, The Craft of Revision, he says, “‘Never a day without a line’ was the counsel of Horace, who lived from 65 B.C. to 8 B.C., and it has been the counsel of writers in every century since. Put rear end in chair every day and keep it there until the writing is done.”

Amen, Donald!