Category: On Writing

How Does One Become a Writer?

 

 

Claire Fullerton: How Does One Become a Writer

The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature

2017-04-01Essays / Memoirs

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I am a proud Southerner from Memphis, Tennessee, who now lives in Southern California, which makes me all the more Southern, for I am now a Southern ambassador. As a bona fide representative of the South, I am intent upon preserving her lyrical language, her hospitable manners, and her immediate sense of humor, which leans heavily upon the perfectly timed use of sardonic simile and blind-siding metaphor.

How Does One Become a Writer

My mother was not a writer, but maybe she should have been. She was one of the most natural born story tellers I’ve ever had chance to come across, and she glowed under a willing audience, well aware when she had one in the palm of her hand.

She was a product of what I now call the old South, raised in an era when ladies were cultured and charming. Her name was Shirley, and never was a woman more appropriately named. To me, the name tinkles like Champagne in cut glass; captivating and celebratory in its effervescence; happened upon only on rare occasions.

Never have I seen a woman occupy a chair quite like Shirley, who could be found at the cocktail hour holding court in the card room in the house I grew up in, with one feminine leg tucked beneath her and the other dangling freely at her seductive crossed knee.

It was how she observed the end of the day, for in her mind, there was much to discuss. She was fascinated by the players who populated her extravagant world and had an uncanny ability to dissect their character down to the last nuance.

I couldn’t say now if she was insightful or just plain observant, whether she was legitimately concerned or liked to gossip, but she had a way of telling a story that could turn a trip to the grocery store into the most enviable journey ever taken. I used to watch my mother—study her with adolescent awe, looking for clues on how to evolve from an inchoate girl into her replica.

I could have come out and asked her, but I always knew she wasn’t the type to ever confess.

She is twelve long years in heaven now, but the reverberating shadow she cast keeps her never far from reach. I was asked just the other day how I became a writer; whether I studied it in college or took some other road. It’d be so convenient to say I have an accredited piece of paper granting me permission, but the truth is I have much more than that: I grew up under the tutelage of a Southern shanachie, who showed me the seemingly ordinary in life is actually extraordinary. It all depends on how the story is told.

The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature

1996-2017
In our 21st year online!

“No good Southern fiction is complete without a dead mule.”
–Val MacEwan, 1996

This Literary Journal publishes on the first day of the month, while sporadically adding items on a whim throughout the month.

You’ll find over 1,000 stories, poems, and essays online at http://www.thedeadmule.wordpress.com

Check out 21 years of Dead Mule wonder, start here and then, as stated above, go to our sister site: thedeadmule.wordpress.com for the Dead Mule Archives.

Trust in the process and know all good things come to those who mule.

Southern Legitimacy Statements

Start anywhere in the Bits of Mule. You’ll find the statements at the forefront of the “writing”, be it poetry, short story, flash fiction or essay. These statements are the heart and soul of the Dead Mule. Enjoy!

 

The Here and Now

It took me years to call myself a writer. For a long time, I thought in order to call myself a writer, I’d have to be making a living at writing; that many people had to know I exist. This is nowhere near the current case for me, and who’s to say if it ever will be? What’s on my mind in this moment is that twice, in the last month, I’ve read posts tap-dancing around the question of “When does a writer quit?” Quit because of what? I asked myself. The question sounded to me like a temper tantrum, like a challenge to the Gods to take our toys and go home should we not receive the gifts we expected in our timeframe. Who are writers trying to appeal to, and further, why? I think writers should ask themselves these questions so they don’t get frustrated, should it come down to the meager fruits of their labor. I use these questions as a reality check every so often, because I recall years ago thinking all I wanted was to be in the game; have a book available in the world; that it would be enough. And in this moment of blog post confession, I can honestly say having two books out in the world is enough, and what happens from here is not my business. Except that it is a business. I have to acknowledge that, having chosen the traditionally published route, with contracted books is responsibility. I have to do my part in joining the grid of how the game is played by engaging in social media, looking for public appearance opportunities and basically being creative in shouting from the rooftops that my books are out in the competitive field. These things are a given when a writer aligns with people who have a vested interest, and for me it comes down to upholding my end of the bargain. But recently, I’ve had an epiphany: enlightenment descended with the awareness that I truly love the writing lifestyle, even though by many people’s standards, I’m experiencing downtime. My second novel was released two years ago, and my third won’t be out for more than a year. There’s a good reason for this, which I’ll get to in another post, but I’ve asked myself a few times if I shot myself in the foot, with regard to momentum. I’ve seen a few authors I admire disappear for years then emerge apologetically for creating the gap. But the thing is I’m not a prominent enough writer for anyone to miss me, and I’m thinking my recent epiphany answers the question some writers ask of when to quit. My personal answer is never, and here’s why:  I love the writer’s lifestyle, and the proof is I’m spending my alleged downtime writing another book. Plainly and simply, writing is what I love to do. I’m also having a blast sharing what I’ve learned over the past few years with other writers. It’s a pay-it-forward- labor- of -love for me to help new authors in any way I can. And I’m just as enthusiastic over books my fellow authors are getting out in the world as I ever was for my own work. I love to watch some of the friends I’ve made through writing prosper, and it is my honor to share their work on all the social media outlets I established for my own books. Frankly, the writing lifestyle is my idea of fun, and I love everything about the arena. There are fascinating, talented authors out there generating the kind of work that inspires me. There are also authors now long deceased who set the bar for the rest of us, and the luxury of reading their work gives me something to aim for as I study what and how they write.

So it is the lifestyle that writing affords that is the gift to me. Many times on this blog I’ve written that the thing about writing is there is no there to get to. I’d like to go deeper with the message and offer another consideration: the “there” to get to with writing is the here and now. It is enough to love it, and if this is case, then why ever quit?

Claire Fullerton is the author of Contemporary Fiction Dancing to an Irish Reel, and paranormal mystery, A Portal in Time. http://www.clairefullerton.com

There is no There to Get to

I tend to be a stream of consciousness writer, in that I write whatever it is I’m thinking. I don’t labor as long as I’m putting ideas on paper, and there’s a quiet ease that ensues from not looking over my own shoulder. This is how I began writing in the first place. I began by keeping a journal I knew nobody would ever see. No one suggested I keep a journal; I simply felt compelled at a young age from the resounding depth of that interior chamber that tells a person who they are. In truth, I have a running inner monologue that deciphers the world, and it is this I call upon when writing. There has never been a time when I didn’t write. I’ve used it as a way of interpreting the world for as long as I remember. What began as a desire to understand myself evolved into a daily habit, then one bright day, I turned through my journals and discovered, not only had I been documenting my life, I had a particular way of experiencing its vagaries. Once I realized this, my writing came into focus. I thought maybe I could forge a career. I sought to articulate at such a pitch that there would be no misunderstanding. I began paying scrutinous attention to word usage, craft, and flow, reasoning that the more clarity I brought to language, the better the chance for a reader’s understanding. Here’s what happened as I stayed the course: I fell in love with the act of writing. I learned it is a deepening process predicated upon development, with no there to get to, only the experience of the personal path.

There was a time when I was confused by this. I thought calling myself a writer meant I had to achieve a sanctioned plateau that gave me permission to continue writing. I was wrong about this, and have only recently figured out why. The world didn’t have to tell me I am a writer before I became one. I didn’t recognize I became one the day I followed the call by putting pen to paper in my journal. No number of published books or lack thereof will alter this salient truth; not for me or anyone else. Being a writer begins with giving yourself permission to be one. However you choose to experience it is ultimately in your own hands.

I believe all writers care about writing for the same reason, which has something to do with the desire to compare notes in this business of living. Whether we’re published, or by whom is not the point, the point is all writers are on the same path, propelled by an inexplicable urge to communicate, however or wherever it is they tell their story. It is enough, to me, for its own sake. The real merits of writing lie intrinsically in its pursuit. For a writer, there is no there to get to, there is only the fulfilling, soul-driven act.

What Price an Author’s Politics?

 

I don’t believe I’m the only one disenchanted with the current state of affairs on FaceBook. Rather than launching a campaign in broad strokes of generalities from a supercilious pulpit, I will keep things simple and try my best to articulate where I’m coming from as an artist, for writing, to me, is a high art.

 

Like legions the world over, I joined FaceBook to stay connected with many people I’d lost touch with over the years. I grew up in Memphis, which means I’m a Southerner, and Southerners are raised in packs attendant to other packs. The domino effect of this reaches into the hundreds. And I care about all my pack members, so I considered the advent of FaceBook a gift that kept me connected, now that I’m a transplanted Southerner living in California.

 

And then I cultivated a writing career. I, like other writers, was therefore obligated to do my share of marketing and promotion for my books, and Facebook is, perhaps, the most viable avenue to do so. In short order, my list of “friends” grew longer, and I, wanting to help my fellow writers, turned around one day to discover I was connected to unfathomable numbers of authors I would have never known otherwise. And it thrilled me. I will always be fascinated by those who create, be they a writer, musician, dancer or painter. Give me your art, says I; it softens the blow of the human experience. In my opinion, there is such beauty in this world, and it is the artist’s God-given aptitude that points this out. It has been my pleasure and honor to help promote other authors, and there is safety in numbers in this business of living, if one is lucky enough to come across others of their ilk. Like begets like, or so it seemed to me, but lately I’ve become soul-sick and heart-confused while looking at FaceBook, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of why.

 

I feel hoodwinked, led into the miasma of a bait and switch. I came to Facebook because of friendship and art, but now it seems I’m being held prisoner for political ransom. I know the arguments: freedom of speech, a forum for “voice,” and all the other rights people stand up for. I’m not suggesting any of this is wrong, but I do question its appropriateness. Just because one can doesn’t mean one should, and the irony for an author is pontificating politically automatically polarizes their followers. There’s no sense in not admitting this, and those that don’t might be assuming their followers completely agree with their views, yet if this is the case, then why preach to the choir?

 

I think authors should seriously think through posting their political view on FaceBook, and weigh it for the potential ramifications to their career. After all, the way an author shows up in the world begins with deciding how they want to be perceived. I had this question posited to me recently, when my literary agent asked me to articulate “my brand.” It’s going to matter when my next two novels come out, and currently there is wisdom in establishing and investing in my base. I’m thinking the more streamlined and specific I can be, the better.

 

Readers align with us for stories. Reading stories gives many suspended quarter in a hectic world. Readers don’t necessarily need to know who the person is behind the story. If an author is doing it right, their stories will speak volumes to answer the question, without detracting from the author’s mystique.

 

I’m not saying I long to be seen as mysterious, only that I like the idea of my stories speaking for themselves. As for who I am, I’ll let the readers decide, and willingly leave politics to the political pundits.

 

 

 

Fellow Authors, You’ll Love This Article!

What Being an Editor Taught Me  About Writing,      January 17, 2017  By Anna Pitoniak

 

I’m an editor at Random House, but for the last several years I’ve been writing around the edges of my day job: mornings, nights, weekends, wherever I can grab the free time. I began my first novel (which is publishing today) while I was working as an editor, and I credit my job with giving me the courage, and the tools, to tackle writing a book. The truth is that spending one’s life reading good writing—not just reading it, but thinking about what makes it so good—is the best way to teach one’s self how to do it. For some people, this might mean enrolling in an MFA program. For me, I was lucky enough to learn by observing the other editors around me, and working on manuscripts as they went from rough drafts to finished books. It was the best writing education I could have received. Here are a few of the things I learned along the way:

http://lithub.com/what-being-an-editor-taught-me-about-writing/

 

 

 

On the Writing Path

,And so the game changes.

It’s been a fast moving beginning to 2017, but I’ll digress to say that 2016 ended with a cliff hanger, which meant while most people were reveling in the holidays, I waited for the new year to begin and decided I might as well work  on my fourth novel, so I wouldn’t climb the walls over the fact that my third novel was at issue! But things are on track now, and I recently signed a contract with Julie Gwinn, of The Seymour Literary Agency, for representation. There are irons in the fire as I write this, but far be it from me to jinx anything, so I’m going to share a bit about my literary journey over the past few years, in hope that it will lend insight and encouragement to my fellow writers.

My first attempt at writing a novel began after I moved back to Los Angeles from the west coast of Ireland. Upon reviewing the daily journals I kept there, I realized, if I could craft it well, I had a great story. So, I dove in and completed the manuscript of what eventually became “Dancing to an Irish Reel,” then queried agents interested in commercial fiction, literary fiction, women’s fiction, and everywhere else that would potentially be interested. I had a few bites, yet after a year, it occurred to me that I was an unknown, with little to recommend me as a writer. I switched focus, submitted and was published in magazines then, through what can only be called sheer chance, I caught the eye of the editor of Malibu’s local newspaper, when a white Dove landed on my kitchen patio, and I sent its photograph with a little story of the turmoil the presence of this seraphic creature created amongst our two dogs as it took up roost on the patio for eleven days. Astoundingly, I was offered my own weekly column. Writing this 1,000 word, weekly column taught me the art of brevity, and I acquired a firm grasp on the art of the flow. Yet still, no progress with my novel, so I decided to write another novel, whose premise is a personal interest of mine, and whose idea came to me when my husband and I checked into an historic hotel in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California. I’ll go on and say it here and risk scrutiny: I’m telling you, this hotel was haunted. I knew it because the fine hairs on my arms stood up as I gazed around its lobby. My imagination ran rampant. I knew in my bones that this particular hotel had its origins as a private residence, and after checking with the concierge, I learned I was right. And so I wrote a novel in two time frames about a woman who checks into an historic hotel and comes to realize she has lived before, so familiar is she with every nuance of the setting. I titled the book, “A Portal in Time,” searched high and low for agents and publishers interested in paranormal mystery, and had the good fortune of being offered a publishing contract, without the involvement of an agent. A Portal in Time turned out to be a crash course in not only the publishing business, but in the wonderful world of marketing and promotion. Next, I did what anyone would do, I submitted my first novel’s manuscript to A Portal in Time’s publisher, and Dancing to an Irish Reel came out in March of 2015.

Somewhere, in the swing of all this, I entered The San Francisco Writer’s Conferences’ writing contest, and came in as the contest’s runner up. It was a 3,000 word, non-fiction narrative set in the South, where I grew up. And so I decided I had something to build upon, turned the piece into fiction, and filled it out to 83,000 words. The manuscript is a Southern Family Saga, and in no way fits what my current publisher publishes. And so I began again. Something very promising happened with this manuscript, yet rather than going into what became a false start, I’ll simply say fate intervened and everything came to a halt. I picked myself up and  pressed on with querying agents. Enter Julie Gwinn of The Seymour Literary Agency. I’ll leave you here and report there is great hope for my third book, yet I will reiterate I am not one to jinx things, and I’ve learned a little something about the folly of counting chickens!

I’m sharing “my story” to remind all writers to persevere because I’m still doing so. It’s a long and winding road ( thank you, Paul McCartney) and I’m thinking it’s also unpredictable. The important thing is that all writers recognize that it is enough to be on the road. I’m fond of saying the good news about a writing career is there is no “there” to get to; there is only the fulfilling path.

And while I’ve got you, let me leave you with something the publisher of my first two novels posted. For those of you who are Catholic Christian writers, this one’s for you, and my wish is it creates an open door to your publishing dreams:

https://getvinspired.wordpress.com/2017/01/17/well-be-accepting-pitches-at-the-catho/

Sending great blessings to you all, and, as they say in Ireland,” slainte.”

 

Art for Art’s Sake?

Lately, I’ve been given cause to seriously consider my writing career and to ask myself why I’m truly engaged in the pursuit. Though I am an optimist by nature, it does occur to me that as a universal rule, one can only work with a situation successfully as long as it works with them.  When it comes to most things in life, there is an art to meeting things half-way, to staying in the middle, to watching the dynamic of cause and effect in one’s life, to not over-extending oneself, nor taking things personally. It’s helpful for a writer to keep this in mind when it comes to the experience of rejection. This is not to say that it’s a bad thing to be goal oriented, only that there is folly in putting a time frame on the long range goal. Many writers want to see measurable progress according to their time-table, but this is where we’re best shown that we are not in control. I think the adage of showing up, doing the work, and being unattached to outcome is the aim, but how to seriously achieve this stance of nonattachment; this acceptance of our lack of control? Artists tend to be emotionally involved in their creations. We want to see the fruits of our labors manifest, elsewise, what’s it all for? But I’m going to take this to a soul level and say the soul only wants to create; it wants the experience of creation as its reality, and if one considers art from this premise, then it is enough to create. So the fundamental question for any artist to ask themselves is do you want the glory of the experience, or do you want to reap a reward? The world will tell you success looks a certain way at a particular end and therein lies your validation, but what attitude are we to assume until that fateful day? What price happiness, and how are we to manage within an arena whose premise is to contribute then relinquish control? The thing is, we have no control, and  assuming we do sets us up for all kinds of false premises, wherein frustration, self-doubt, victimization, and all the rest are given license. As a writer, I think art for art’s sake is the answer because we can’t control our reception. We may or may not gain riches and recognition, but if we engage the artistic flow as a way of being in the world and are in the right relationship with its unpredictability,  then I think we can say we’re living a successful life.  It’s not necessary to be the choreographer of the show, it’s only necessary that we are wise enough to dance.

Author’s note: This post is in response to Jason Howell’s  question of the week on his blog, Howlarium, of which I am an avid fan:

Q: How often are you able to create a desired result for yourself by sheer force of will, or by arranging circumstances? Do you ever feel as though the reason you aren’t far enough along is that you haven’t pushed yourself hard enough, even though you’ve worked very hard? In your writing life or otherwise—is control really all it’s cracked up to be? 

Check into Howlarium @ http://www.howlarium.com/

From a Writer’s Point of View

A writer’s life is a build, a constant state of becoming that begins with the secret, intuitive assumption that one must take a leap of faith and begin. There is no there to get to, only an unquenchable need that compels and drives on with inexplicable fervor. For me, it began with keeping a journal. I was young and fearful of admitting my internal mechanisms and uncertain of who would care to hear. But I felt the need to document my life in the hope that the singular act of private articulation would reveal to me who I was in the grand scheme of my self-involved adolescence. This is the prompting that leads a writer to the table; the need to explain oneself to oneself. Keeping a journal discredits all thoughts of life’s arbitrariness and puts the pendulum of cause and effect into clear perspective. One can keep current while they create a framework, then look back years later and chart the incremental construction of their personal history.
But what happens when one evolves from journal keeping to writing as a way of life? Certainly it’s an insular existence that cannot be shared. It’s like taking that running monologue we all have in our head and laying it down on purpose for no other reason than it seems the thing to do. The form of the dissertation is entirely incidental; some writers aim to inform, and others seek to enlighten or entertain. To me, it’s all the same thing: a way of communicating, and for this to happen, it takes time. And isolation. And commitment to following through no matter the length of the project.
I’ve heard it said that writers don’t write because they want to; they write because they must. What’s imperative for writers is the ability to write then throw caution to the wind. All that’s required is to say what you have to say, and then get out of the way to make room for the possibility that the devil may care after all.

The Road to Publication

Strangely enough, I wrote my second published novel, “Dancing to an Irish Reel” years before I wrote my first published book, “A Portal in Time.” My first written novel (which I call to this day “my Irish book”) was a labor of love inspired by the year I spent living on the western coast of Ireland, and the story took up residency in my soul, begging to be shared. Its road to publication was not a predictable one, but it taught me invaluable lessons concerning unwavering belief, the power of tenacity, and the willingness to learn and grow as a writer.

I’ve heard it said writers don’t write because they want to; they write because they must. That’s how I felt about my Irish book, and although I’d never attempted a novel, I was not deterred because I had so much enthusiasm for telling this particular story. I embarked upon the writing of the book with blind faith, thinking all I had to do was tell the story of a single American female who relocates to rural Ireland, and the mere novelty of the setting in this heart-and-soul, fish-out-of-water story would pave the way to certain publication. It didn’t occur to me that my first draft would be one of many, that my book had to be painstakingly crafted, or that the endless process of fine-tuning by rewrites is where the real work would lie.

Once I’d finished the first draft of my Irish book, I sent it to three friends who know their way around literature. To say their combined comments were legion would be an understatement, yet I was encouraged because all three loved the story. I took their suggestions into consideration while I fine-tuned the book then I went over my manuscript three times more until I was satisfied it was in its best shape possible. Next I reviewed the tips in “The Writer’s Market” that pertain to writing a query letter to a literary agent. I composed an introductory letter and over a six month period, I followed submission guidelines and wrote to ten agents hoping for the next step: a request for the entire manuscript. I waited on pins and needles only to receive incremental responses succinctly saying my manuscript didn’t “fit their list.” But with each rejection, I sent out another round of query letters, and eventually found myself in a cycle of protracted waiting, which stretched out for more than a year.

While I waited, I continued to write. I revised my manuscript once again and researched other authors’ road to publication, where I realized they all had one thing in common: they’d each come to the table with a body of work to recommend them. Spurred into action, I began submitting personal essays to magazines that accepted unsolicited material, and began to rack up publications. Next, what I can only describe as an unusual chain of events brought me to the attention of my hometown’s newspaper, where I was offered my own creative weekly column, entitled, “In First Person,” which amassed a local following. At the time I was encouraged by the good things in play, but I still hadn’t found a literary agent. Then it occurred to me that two irons in the fire were better than one.

I took a reprieve from my Irish book and tried my hand at writing another book in a different genre. My aim was to enjoy the process and write the story I would like to read. The result was my paranormal mystery entitled, “A Portal in Time.” When I was satisfied with the manuscript, I researched publishers who accepted un-agented material, with an eye towards those who published similar titles. The rest, I can gratefully say, is part of my career history, for “A Portal in Time” was published by Vinspire Publishing in November of 2013.

When I mentioned my willingness to grow as a writer, it was to say that my work didn’t end with the acceptance of my novel. I went through two rounds with an editor followed by a proof reader. The process was a crash course tutorial in how to shape a book, and once “A Portal in Time” was released, I took everything I’d learned from the process and went back to my Irish book.

Eight months later, I submitted the manuscript of my Irish book to my publisher, knowing there’d be no guarantee. But fate can be kind, and at the recommendation of my publisher’s acquisitions department, I was offered a contract for “Dancing to an Irish Reel.”

It occurs to me now that my first book took an unusual course to publication, but in hindsight, many elements had to align. Summarily, it wasn’t enough to know I had a good story; I had to have enough faith in the book to wait through its many revisions. But first and foremost, I had to be willing to learn and grow as a writer.

Truth In Fiction – Guest post by Claire Fullerton

Source: Truth In Fiction – Guest post by Claire Fullerton