Insecure Writer's Support Group - September 2014 - IWSG

Anna Nordeman

This is author Roz Morris

Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh for starting Insecure Writer's Support Group.

Message from Alex:

Today marks three years since the very first IWSG post. Next month marks one year since the IWSG site and Facebook group opened. And we’d like you to help us celebrate! 

 

 
I wrote this IWSG-post before I read about, "Life is Good"-blogger, wonderful person and very special Swede, Tina Downey, who passed away Saturday night 23rd August. I don't even know what I was doing that day. I'll write more on this blog for her tribute on 8th September. Anyway, the IWSG-post is written; I don't think I could have written it now. 



 

This is my seventeenth post for IWSG.  

Here in the North, Summer seems to end abruptly around the middle of August. With a thunderstorm that cools everything off and the heat never returns. At first it feels like a relief. But by the first of September there are already yellow leaves lying in the gutter. It's as if someone pulled a shade down over Summer and made it Autumn.

Yes, I know. One of the Cardinal rules of writing is to never, ever begin your novel with talk about the weather. But I am obsessed with the weather; and with the change of seasons. And I am not alone. The farther North you go the more people think in terms of what the weather is like today or how it will be tomorrow. I can't help it.

I read to fight my depression over the end of summer. 

Listen to Roz speak on this author video on her Amazon-page here.


I've read another wonderful how-to-write book by Roz Morris. I really enjoyed reading Bring characters to life, her second work in her Nail Your Novel series. Granted, Roz says a lot of things that I have found in other books. But she says it in a way that makes me feel like writing.

There seems to be some basic truths when it comes learning to write. Certain slogans such as "Show don't tell" or "Write a good beginning if you want to be read", appear in all of these books, only different authors express it in different ways. So which how-to book is best?

I think it is a matter of personal choice. Whom do you choose as your writing-buddy? Read a book that helps you keep writing, one that is genuinely encouraging. I like Roz' books because she gets to the point quickly and clearly. She does not waste time. She has a good sense of humour;  She never insults me. And instead of saying "Kill you darlings", meaning discarding them, throwing them into the dust bin, she suggests puting those story ideas, that don't fit into your present work-in-progress, into a special file, because they might fit in better somewhere else. Like a good craftsman, she never throws away useful scraps pf material, be it silver, wood or fabric, that could be used for something later. That's my kind of writing teacher!

 

Roz has convinced me that she knows what she's talking about. So I've decided to read her novels. After writing stacks of best-selling novels for other people as a ghost writer, she has started writing novels in her own name, first, My Memories of a Future Life and the Lifeform three. 

The first novel, My Memories of a Future Life, seems to be about time travel, but I don't know yet. I think the title is intriguing. It's about a concert pianist who for some reason is not able to play the piano anymore. (Perish the thought! I hope I will be able to read this. Just that sounds frightening.)

The second novel, Lifeform three, I don't know that much about. Sounds science fictiony.



 

' ' ' ' ' '  
 

Johan Theorin, Swedish author

This summer, I have actually read an entire novel, Rörgast, in Swedish; Johan Theorin's last suspense novel in his quartet set on the Baltic island of Öland. Each of these four novels represents a season, and this fourth and last one is a summer's tale. 



 
 


The main part of the novel is all about the chaotic life of summer, on an island that is practically empty most of the year, except for summer, when the tourists arrive. The other part of the novel is about a man and his stepson who leave Öland in the 1930's and emigrate, not to America, as everyone expects who has read the earlier books, but to the Soviet Union. They are not able to leave the USSR. The boy, who is the same age as the main character, Gerlöf Davidsson, lives a very different kind of life than Gerlöf and he always wants to come back home to Öland. But when he does finally return, after so many years, it is not the way he had dreamed and hoped that it would be.

I don't want to give away the story, in case some of you can read Swedish or will try to get a hold of an English translation. (The other three novels are already translated into English.) But my point is that in order to write the parts of this novel that are about the USSR, Johan Theorin had to do a lot reading about Soviet history.

It brings to mind one idea that I have found in some of these how-to-write books. Some say, that you should only write about things that you really know well. Here is an example of an author studying a subject in order to make his story believable. Johan Theorin is a journalist, so he has probably done a lot of research in that capacity.

I'm not sure I could do that. But I guess this is part of what being a real author is all about; being able to write about places where you have never been, about people whom you have never met, and who don't really exist, except on paper.


Thanks for reading!

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:
Lin
of
Duck and Wheel With String 

Regrets! Regrets! Regrets! Taking Chances - WEP's Challenge for 20th-22nd August 2014

Welcome to WEP's Challenge for August 20-22, Taking Chances.

'Taking Chances' is a thought-provoking theme/prompt for a writing exercise. The image suggests something romantic, but so many different interpretations are possible.

Here is a story about Greta Celsing and her older friend, Ivar Larsson, who usually play the violin together on Tuesday mornings. 

Regrets, regrets, regrets!

'Shall we play this piece first before we have tea?' asked Greta as she put the sheet music on the stand, while Ivar was tuning the fiddles. 

'Why don't we start off by both playing the melody together and then I can play the chords,' suggested Ivar, since he was a more experienced musician. They both took their instruments in hand and began to play.

'You need to fine tune your fiddle. You're flat.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' said Greta, 'I've made such mess of everything!'

'No, no. You've almost got it. Here, let me help you. Listen to how the A and the E-string sound together.'

'It's not just the tuning. It's my whole life. I have so much to regret!'

'Greta, you're only 22. You're too young to have regrets. What do you regret? What are you talking about? Later on in life you might regret wasting good time in your youth. Why don't we use the time that we have to practice our music?'

'Alright,' said Greta a little ashamed. And they played a folk melody for about twenty or thirty minutes.

'Let me tell you about my father', said Ivar when they took a rest and Greta poured the tea.

'My father had the 1918-flu when he was in his twenties. He survived, but I think it left him with a weakness, because he died when he was only 56. He wasn't well for several years and treated us all very badly, especially our mother. He had something on the brain and could not think right. He was sloppy one day and left his jacket lying on the floor. The cat came and peed on it. He was so angry at the cat that he went out and shot it. Dead. Just because it had messed up his jacket. So after that we were all on our toes and tried not to get him upset.

He had an operation that relieved the pressure on his brain. And since he had been bedridden for so long, I took him out in a row boat and rowed him around Stockholm, where we lived at that time. It was in late winter and there were still ice floes in the water. But he loved it. He dipped his hands into the cold water and laughed as he hadn't laughed for years.

'You took him out in a row boat? He could have drowned.'

'Yes, but by not taking him out, he would have missed an opportunity to feel alive after being so cooped up and ill for so long'.

'How old were you when this happened?'

'Eighteen. I wish I could have had him longer. I have already outlived him now. I wish I could talk to him today. He never got to see all the good work I've done. He only saw my school work.'

'Is this something that you regret?'

'No. I'm sorry that he died so young, but that had nothing to do with me. He didn't die because of me. It was just fate; the way things can be. 

The one thing that I do NOT regret is the fact that I was at home with him at the time when he suddenly became himself again. My sisters missed it. But I just happened to be there. It was some months after the operation, when his thoughts suddenly cleared. 

He looked at mother and me said, 'Now I know how difficult I've been. I'm so sorry that I have given you so much grief. But not now. Not anymore. I'll never be mean again. We're going to be happy from now on,' and he threw an apple between his hands as accurately as a juggler to show us how well his coordination had become, now that he had finally recovered. 

I was dumbfounded of joy. I sat and talked with him and I stayed with him, because I wanted to; because I had missed growing up and going through my teens with a normal healthy father. At that moment, I could finally see what a fine man my father was. And that he loved us. I was so happy. All the hard work of nursing him at home and bringing in buckets of drinking-water and wood for the wood-burning stove; and helping my mother. And protecting my mother from his rage, was rewarded in that moment. In that one golden moment.

But it only lasted a few hours until he suffered a new stroke and died.  

But for the rest of my life, I have been able to be happy, because I happened to be at home, at the right moment, and saw him as he was when he was healthy and good. I think this is why I haven't felt guilty. I did what I could. I was there when he needed me. And those few precious hours before he died gave me a happy memory to live with. To this day.

'Ivar, what are you trying to tell me?'

'Use your time wisely, Greta. Take care of those who really are important to you. Then you won't have to feel sorry. Now, let's play that tune one more time.'

Word count according to WordCalc: 881

P.S. Yes. This is a work of fiction. I had sifted through four or five different story ideas, and nothing seemed to work. I guess I don't really like writing about regrets. I like stories about chances that are wonderful and unlikely. Life is filled with missed opportunities. Fiction should be a place where you don't have to think about regrets. This story is based on what a friend of mine told me about his life. So it is not really my own story. But I like it so much, that I wish I had made it up myself. 

Yes, yes, I know. I'm 'telling' rather than 'showing'!

 

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:
D.G. Hudson
of 
D.G.Hudson - Rainforest Writing

My jewellery is now featured in Etsy's SWEDISH ROOM:

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