Mina Witteman – author | editor | teacher of creative writing

Gone Writing – Day 25

Posted on January 26, 2016

 

clouded skies

a sluggish brain

prose that will not flow

force the words out

wrest them from your gut

squash them into scenes

or procrastinate and let

the mind roam free on a breezy afternoon

sail a boat into the sunset

feel the wind brush your skin

smell the limu lipoa loaded with dictyopterenes

taste the brine that settles on your lips

watch the waves roll under

hear snippets of adventures from people nearby

let kahunas push up high in the channels

camp on an island with a zebra and lemur

sup from the keys up to maine

be rudderless and steer on sails

forge new memories

find new scenes

new words

remember

think

let your writing soar

 

 

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Gone Writing – Day 24

Posted on January 25, 2016

So… method writing.

 

A friend forwarded me a link to the BBC article: “Could ‘method writing’ be the future for novelists?” The article reports of the author Hodgkinson who launched his Method Writers project, for which he invites other authors to try techniques similar to method acting to find out if that works for their writing too.

Similar to Lee Strasberg’s method acting, in method writing the author would immerse himself in his character’s life by using his own memories of emotions and sensations to identify with his characters.

Is that a novelty?

From Strasberg’s website: “Strasberg meant that what is called “Method Acting” is nothing new, but rather as old as Western Civilization itself. For centuries, cultures used different words and phrases to describe “good” acting: Romantic Acting, Emotional Acting, Divine Inspiration, The Muses, Feeling the Role. These terms merely described an organic process of creativity that talented actors used, often times unconsciously, to accomplish what audiences experienced as a moving performance. This was the (re)experiencing of life by the actor within the fiction of the story as if it were true and happening now.”

 

Ha! Him again. The muse. Sticking his head up and stimulating me to push the envelop.

 

Oh, shush, muse. Don’t distract me when I’m thinking. We have a question that needs an answer.

No, I don’t think it’s a novel thing. Writers have done it for centuries. I have done it forever, siphoning off my memories to bring my characters to life or plunging myself into similar situations I plunge my protagonist in. Like with this novel I’m working on, which leans heavily on past and rather dark experiences but also on creating the lonely world of my protagonist around me.

 

Does it show in my work?

According to readers and critics it does. Without exception reviewers say that the reader walks with my (Dutch) novels’ heroes, that the reader is living the story. I believe that’s because most of the emotions and sensations of my protagonists are firsthand experiences.

In my bio I’ve written that this in fact is my trade secret, experiencing what my characters experience: “if the protagonist crashes down a waterfall in his kayak, you know I crashed down a waterfall too. If my hero roams icy cold mountains or scorching deserts, I wandered the same icy cold mountains and scorching deserts.”

 

Review Boreas and the Seven Seas (Boreas en de zeven zeeën): “Great about this book is the adventurous voice. The lapping of waves, the nightly tingling of boats in a port, the panic at sea when the wind hurls the boat to a broach. It’s like you are there and feel the wind pull your hair.”
Annemarie Terhell – Kidsweek, 4 out of 5 stars

 

And so, standing at the rim of Haleakalā crater with the sun blazing down on me and clouds creeping up from below, sparked a spooky adventure for the third book in the Boreas series. You see the trail down there? That’s where I’m heading, that’s where Boreas is heading…

 

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Haleakalā Crater – Maui

 

 

 

 

Gone Writing – Day 23

Posted on January 24, 2016

Poolside writing. Does that work? I thought not.

I was wrong.

It works. Just like writing in a café back in San Francisco worked.

I didn’t know. I always assumed I could only write within the quiet of my office. Until I hit a huge and seemingly indestructible block this summer, dumped in my brain by an absent muse. The result: I couldn’t write. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t live. It left me frustrated like hell and after a few weeks of brooding, I decided I needed a change of venue. I booked a flight to San Francisco, where a good part of the novel would be set, and hoped that if I couldn’t write there, at least I could do some research, walk around, feel the town, find good spots for my protagonist to hide.

I’ve journaled the results of that decision in earlier posts. I set up camp at the Café Francesco, my muse arrived, and my writing soared.

 

I moved on to Hawaii for the second leg of my trip (San Diego and New York to come). Being around my inspirational friend Kirsten worked like a charm. The writing didn’t soar like in San Francisco but I held a steady pace.

But then the writing slumped to a mere five words a day. If at all. I started brooding again. Cursed the traveling. Cursed my muse. Cursed myself. I had turned into my protagonist, who thinks she’s a good-for-nothing evil in this world (or was I just trying to get into the mindset of my protagonist, living a case of ‘method writing‘?).

At wits’ end, I set out for the pool. Took my laptop with me and hoped for the best. If the writing wouldn’t come, I could maybe take a refreshing dip.

But I wrote. I wrote two kick-ass scenes. A fight and sort of a reconciliation. Extremely slow but good writing. Thanks to the pool.

 

Or thanks to the Lono Tiki totem for good luck I bought…

 

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The artist – Folau Tupou – carving my name in the tiki totem

 

Gone Writing – Day 22

Posted on January 23, 2016

my writer soul splits my life

my heart and mind

clashing like the sea and the land

the fine line in between fractal and ever changing

i find myself

standing strong in the sand

crushed by a big kahuna

slipping on wet rock

caressed by the fizz of foam

 

 

the want to stay afloat rips

as waves slam me ashore

the light wins over the dark

the need to find my footing grazes

as currents pull me under

the dark steals the light

i leave my skin behind

will the surf to touch my nerves

and meld me before i drown

 

 

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Gone Writing – Day 21

Posted on January 22, 2016

I find myself on the island of Maui. Haven’t seen much of it yet, but going there reminded me of a family back in Amsterdam, who were so smitten by Hawaii they gave their children Hawaiian names: Maui, Lanikai and Ikaika.

 

Names are important in stories. They reveal a lot about your character. I choose mine with care, knowing that often the name changes as I get to know my character better.

Sometimes I choose a name of someone I know because my character resembles that person. Like with the names in my debut Deedee’s Revenge. I needed a name for a courageous protagonist. I picked Deedee, after a distant cousin, at that time a spunky girl just like my Deedee was. Deedee’s brother, her nemesis, has my personal nemesis’s middle name: Matthias, a Hebrew name, which means Gift of Yahweh… Yeah. Not so much.

For my native American series Warriors of the Sun I looked for two names that were close to the names of the Twin Warriors, sons of the Sun Spirit, Tobadzischini (Born from Water) and Nayenezgani (Monster Slayer). The two boys in the books became Tom and Jay, so the reader could easily connect the two and not get confused once the boys got their Diné names bestowed on them.

 

In the project I’m working on now the protagonist’s name is Sunshine. It was the incongruence of her character and the name that made me pick that one. It evolved from Izzy to Sunny to Sunshine. She hides herself behind different names, though.

The name of her travel companion and savior – in a way and for now, because everything can change after a couple of revisions – morphed from plain Harry to Rufus to Cody. I grappled with this one because I struggled with the character and only after my muse sparked some thoughts that allowed me to get a better vision of this character’s personality, I realized his name had to be Cody.

For now I’m happy with the names. They fit them well.

 

 

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Maui

 

 

 

Gone Writing – Day 20

Posted on January 21, 2016

You don’t have a story until you write it. That’s my adage and a spinoff from my overall writer’s motto: no guts, no glory.

 

But … writing the story isn’t all. To me the most important part of writing is the revision process and I would like to add a second line to the adage: You don’t have a story until you revise it.

Multiple times.

A story needs to grow up. It needs to mature and it can only reach maturity if you mold and guide it, if you change and tweak it.

I revise my stories multiple times and I think revision is where the true joy of being a writer blossoms. Yes, I also get discouraged every now and again, like when I hit the fifteenth round of revisions, but I keep reminding myself that there’s no story without revision.

A story often changes with every revision. Should that worry you? No. Think of it as a work of art in progress, as finding new and exciting ways to show your story.

 

Last night, I was at a restaurant that had work of one of the most admired artists hanging from the wall: Picasso’s Les deux femmes nues. An excellent example of how your first impression, the first draft of your story, can evolve into a work of art that still holds the heart and soul of your story but has a distinctly different feel to it.

 

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The first ‘draft’

 

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The 10th version

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The final version

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The full process

 

 

 

Gone Writing – Day 19

Posted on January 20, 2016

A different day entirely. A day with ominous skies and sweeping rains. Mist. My weather.

 

We went to the beach this morning at 6:30 with some Hawaiian and Scottish artists, and while the others were discussing art and colors, drawing and painting, I strayed away, walking the surf, feeling the sand course under my feet in its urge to follow the sea.

 

What was I looking for?

My muse, obviously. He wasn’t around but he did sent me some good inspirational vibes, like a trusted muse should. The vibes encouraged me to travel further than the looking, to focus on other senses, too. I felt the spray of the ocean mix in with the rain and touch my skin. I tasted the salt in the air.

I also tried to tune to the quietest sound. I listened to what was beyond the rumble of the surf, the chattering of birds, the words of fellow beach walkers carried by the wind, beyond the pattering of rain on the fiberglass hulls of boats. I walked with my eyes closed when I picked up on a sound within the surf’s rumble, underneath the wash of waves, a wee sound, no more than the softest whispering. The susurrus of fizzing spume.

The quietest sound.

 

 

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