#14 Dear Beta Readers

03/10/2017

First of all, thank you for participating in this pre-publication First Read, and helping me to write the best book I can. Some of you have known me at some period in my life. It’s going to be a task for you to step back from that, and read the stories as abstractly as possible, as a group of characters you’ve never met. That’s the way you can help me most, in the writing process.

As you read, or after a chapter, just notice things like “what was my impression of this chapter? What stood out for me? What seems strong? Weak? Too fast or slow? Confusing? Unrealistic? Vivid?.” Was there enough of __(fill in the blank)__ or too much? Those are the things I need to know, that if spotted and corrected, will make the book clearer and better at saying what I really want to say, in a way that is understandable, not phony, not preachy, not fancy, and as genuinely as I can.

In writing the stories, I found it enormously helpful to think of the protagonist/ storyteller as simply a character in a book. Not me. That changed both my perspective and my perception surprisingly. When I stepped back and looked at this funny little girl from a distance, as someone I was observing like a character in a movie, I saw things about her that I never could have seen when I was her.

So if you are one of my friends, don’t take Victoria with you into chapter one, dump her at the gate and leave her out of it. She is someone else, who came much later. The first time you meet Vickie, see her as somebody you have never met before. And in your comments and suggestions, please refer to this character as “the little girl” or “the storyteller.” That will really help you keep a fresh unbiased perspective. For example, write “she was…” Not “you were…” Other than that, just enjoy a free book.

Congratulations, you are now a Developmental Editor. Professional ones make big bucks for this. So please know how much I value and appreciate your participation in my creative process. This will surely bring you lovely Karma. I’ll be blogging more here about the beta reader experience, so y’all come back.

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#8 Rainy Day Scribbling

11/01/2016

I’m still trying to break my stubborn habit of sleeping late and missing too much of the morning, my best time to write. I worry that this might be a symptom of my too-frequent moods of melancholy and depression. But today I got up early, 7:30, and saw the sunrise gradually lighten the dark sky. Everything is silent now. Nothing is moving except the tops of the trees, heaving in the wind, then settling again. Rain is coming.

I love to write, love to have a pen in my hand, just to make marks on paper. When I write in my journal, sometimes I have nothing to say. I write anyway. Sometimes surprising things come. If there’s nothing to say, I write fiddle-faddle, just because I need to be writing something. I’ve had this urge to write ever since I was six years old and learned how. I never got over the wonder of it, making marks on paper, clean and sharp, that said things, that could draw the pictures that were in my mind, and tell stories.

My book is going slowly. I’m impatient. This is hard; it’s not flowing. It’s like cross-country skiing through wet cement. And yet, I marvel at how lucky I am, to be warm indoors, waiting for the rain. Hot coffee, cozy room, silvery sky and the sweet promise of the rain.

It begins now, very faint and misty, hardly more than a whisp of fog, and settling almost invisibly onto everything, refreshing the green living things and making them tremble with wetness and expectation.

I’m grateful for the life I have, even though it’s not all I want. Outside my window the trees sway gently in the winds– first harbingers of good hard rains to come, that trouble the branches of the little lemon tree and ruffle the trumpet-vine on the fence. The trumpet-vine would have bright red-orange flowers, but it does not bloom. Underneath the big oak tree, there is never enough sunlight on it, even on the brightest days. But it is beautiful still. It is being as beautiful as it can, where it is. It cannot move out of the shadows. But I can.


#7 Why I’m Writing The Book

10/28/2016

Today I got up late, made coffee, and worked on the book all day till about 3 o’clock, and then ate lunch for breakfast.

I talk about it in the preface, but have never talked about it here, the reasons that made me scrape up the due diligence to write this book.

I had two reasons. The first one was a sense of duty and decency, to tell my birthmother’s story which had never been told, and never would have been, because of the pain and shame and regret that I think we all felt, but helplessly could not change.

Mary Karr said, somewhere in her Best-Seller memoir, The Liars Club:

“kids in distressed families are great repositories of silence, and carry in their bodies whole Arctic wastelands of words not to be spoken, stories not to be told.” (as well as)“ … a grave sense of personal fault, for failing to rescue those beloveds lost or doomed.

My deepest impulse for writing the book is my own need to understand and forgive and finally let myself be forgiven. My hope is that when the book is done and all of our stories are told, the past will finally be completed, and then can be released.


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