Writing – The Studious Cat

Stolen Moments

January 9, 2020 by Jamie A. Swenson

“I’ve seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write… and you know it’s a funny thing about housecleaning… it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman. A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (or over-respectabilty) to steal her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures. She simply must put her foot down and say no to half of what she believes she “should” be doing. Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estés

This is so very true – HOWEVER – do not let the fact that you are stealing moments stop you either. Art shouldn’t be created in stolen moments – but of course it is, and likely, always will be. In a perfect world, we would not consider the theft of time the only way to do something that nourishes the soul. We would have time set carefully aside – no – blocked off in gigantic letters and highlighted in neon colors. Time that would be ONLY for ART. And we would feel so artistic during this time that we would create AMAZING things that our friends and family would all behold and say, “Oh, yes – this is why we never disturb her during her special Art Block.”

But, welcome to the real world. If you want to write – find the time and steal it back. Yes, it might be at 5 a.m. or maybe it’s somewhere between dropping a child off at school and running to an appointment. These are your precious stolen moments. Grab ’em up.

But ALSO look for those special blocks of time that you might otherwise give to a volunteer project or to the laundry. Use that neon highlighter and BLOCK IT OFF. I used to do this with great intention — and it worked. I knew I had two hours a week to write – and like clockwork – I showed up, butt in chair – and I wrote for a good forty-five minutes of that two hour block. I needed the whole two hours though – to simmer – to think – to daydream – and to write. In the past few years, I’ve allowed that time slot to evaporate – which was a HUGE mistake on my part. I’m taking it back. But, in the meantime, I’m stealing my moments wherever I see them.

In all honesty, I’ve never really allowed the mundane housework stuff stop me too often. Dishes will wait. Laundry will pile. Crumbs on the floor build character, and if your child eats one, all the better. According to WebMD (a trusted and valued source of backing up my thoughts on this topic) “the young immune system is strengthened by exposure to everyday germs so that it can learn, adapt, and regulate itself, notes Thom McDade, PhD, associate professor and director of the Laboratory for Human Biology Research at Northwestern University.”

So, really, you’re not only stealing moments to create your art – you are helping prevent any number of childhood illnesses. You’re welcome.

Prompt for today: Think about the cleanest house you were ever in as a child (or adult if your want – it’s your prompt). Describe that space and the person(s) who kept it clean. How did it make you feel? Now imagine something terribly messy happening in that place and the reaction of everyone involved.

5:50 a.m. on her 18th Birthday

February 3, 2014February 2, 2014 by Jamie A. Swenson

My thoughts are circling around creativity this morning and what it means to wake up every day with your heart filled with wonder, joy, sorrow, awe – and an intense desire to share some part of this creative self with the world.

Creative selfs* are complicated. They WANT – no – They NEED public expression. What is Art if it is never shared with another person – if it’s kept in a drawer, or a closet – or worse – inside your heart – never realized? It is still ART, for certain, but it is a pale experience.

Still, at the same time … the creative self is a fragile newborn, unaware of the dangers that lurk in the shadows – in the form of criticism, misunderstanding, anger – censorship. Too much criticism at the wrong moment kills creativity. Proper criticism, at the right moment, done with respect to the art and artist creates an environment where the creative soul thrives. But it’s tricky. You never know which comment will ignite a fire that blazes bright with creativity and which comment douses the whole shebang.

Eighteen years ago my first daughter entered the world on a -38 (real temperature) day. She, like her younger sister, has become a smart, funny, creative, empathetic, sensitive soul. She’s an artist. Her work will be on display this month in the Milwaukee Art Museum in the Scholastic Student Art Display. Her creative soul is open to the world – which is a wonder and a joy – and a danger, indeed. As her mother – I have always encouraged her to dare – to create – to share her vision. Still, as her mother, I want to protect those creative embers in her heart – so that her creative soul will burn so brightly that the naysayers will be silenced.

I have yet to figure out how to put it all on the line and yet protect it. I don’t think it’s possible. I guess the creative person must build up his/her own protections against the world.

On Tuesday, my second picture book BIG RIG rolls out. That’s an amazing thing too. My words transformed by Ned Young’s art – in a convenient book form for parents and kids to share. Wow. Leaves me a bit speechless, and I feel quite unworthy of my life. And yet I KNOW there are folks who just won’t SEE it for what it is (to me) – a joyful, playful book meant to invite young children along for a story. For me, there is nothing greater than giving a child a book that makes him/her excited about reading. BIG RIG is a part of my creative soul. And it is out there for the World to see. That’s a big, scary thing.

Last night, my hometown celebrated The Arts. Creative folks from all walks of life (actors, singers, photographers, chefs, dancers – and writers) we nominated by our peers and then a very nice fundraising celebration took place. I couldn’t be there – as I’m out of town with BIG RIG – but my husband and my younger daughter attended. There were performances and voting – and a general feeling that WE NEED our creative sides – we NEED ART. My book, BOOM BOOM BOOM received recognition in the Creative Writing category. My husband accepted this award for the book (painted by a high school art student). After the evening, Jon told me that as he looked out into the audience – he suddenly found himself a bit overwhelmed by the emotion of the evening. All the talent – in every stage – young people, adults – daring to SHARE their vision of the world. He got a bit choked up. Art can do that to you. Art brings out our spiritual/ emotional sides. Art touches our souls. How wonderful that the United Arts Alliance paused on an evening in January to celebrate creativity in our city. I hope that all involved left with their spirits renewed by the celebration.

Last weekend, I spent three days with some incredible writers. It was a working weekend – we brought our STUFF, read it aloud – and spent hours talking about each piece, writing craft, and what it means to live your life as a writer. And you know what? – every single one of us – from the person with ten books out in the world – to the people who are anxiously awaiting publication – agreed that living the Writer’s Life can be brutal. It can be awful. And it can be amazing. That’s the complicated nature of sharing your creative soul with others. When you connect with another person through your art – it’s transformative. But, when you face unfair criticism, walls, or apathy — well, I will leave you with the words one of the writers reminded us of:

The Man in the Arena

by Theodore Roosevelt

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;

but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Go out – nurture your creative soul and then dare greatly – for what else is there in this world?

*Yes, I know it could be/should be “selves” … not feeling that word. I want it to be selfs today. 😉

Words, Words, Words

May 9, 2013 by Jamie A. Swenson

Lately, I’ve been getting the same question over and over and over: “Where did the idea for BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! come from?” In fact, I believe I’ve answered that question no fewer than 1,000 times in the past two years (since signing the contract). I don’t mind that question … but, really, a more interesting question might be, “Why did you decide to tell BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! the way you did – in rhyming verse?”

Ah, glad you asked.

You see — it’s not the story that makes the difference — there are many, many rainy night stories. And there are stories of animals crowding into too small places. And there are even stories of brave young boys with bossy sisters. Yes, yes. These are great stories … but what makes one story stand apart from the others is the method by which the storyteller/writer (me, you, your neighbor Shirley) relates the story.

It’s voice. It’s P.O.V. (point of view). It’s word choice – it’s the rhythm of the language. All of these choices add up to a story that is different from the last story you read/heard. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! opens with the lines:

“One stormy night, I jumped into bed.

Safe with a book and my bear named Fred.”

I might have said:

“At bedtime, I jumped into my cozy little bed – with my best friend – a teddy bear named Fred. And of course, I picked out a good book — tonight I wanted to read about thunderstorms — because it was a thunderstormy night.”

So, I have given the same facts – but right away it seems like a different story. In fact, knowing that our main character is jumping into bed with his/her best friend might make us worry that we’re heading into YA territory … until we find out it’s a teddy bear! (hahaha… sorry… but I was worried for about thirty seconds while reading that line back to myself…).

I guess that illustrates the point that HOW we tell the story – word choice, sentence length – how and when the information is doled out to the reader … all of these choices we make affect how the text is read.

Later in the book I used the text:

“We four nestled and listened to rain. Split, splat, splat, splop, a stormy refrain.”

I might have said:

“The rain pounded on the roof and against the windows. Thunder bounced around, rattling the books on the shelves. Cat, Dog, Guinea Pig, and I snuggled into my little bed and listened as the storm continued to storm.”

Again – the same information is stated in the text — but I used twice as many (or more) words to get there. I didn’t have to list all the characters in my text “we four” told the illustrator everything he needed to know – and I must say — the art on this spread melts my heart every time I see it. David Walker understood completely what “We four nestled” should look like on the page.

Now – if you look at the illustration you’ll see 6 things in the bed – but Fred (being a teddy bear and not alive) and Blankie (being a blankie and also not alive) are not counted in the running text. Kids don’t seem to mind this — and actually enjoy going back and saying, “There are four friends, plus FRED! That’s five – oh, and blankie — that’s six!”

Again – how to count characters was a conscious thought for me — in fact — it’s something I went around and around with as I crafted the text. How many are in the bed? And what counts and what doesn’t? Ultimately, I counted only the little boy and the “real” animals/people. It was a style choice. It was a storytelling choice. It’s a discussion point for kids and readers. And it all boils down to — How are you telling your story? What word choices will you make? Whose P.O.V. is this? And how many words will you use?

Personally, I enjoy reading books with rhythm and rhyme – I like reading sentences such as:

“Boing in,” I said. “But then, no hopping. With five this bed is tip-flip-flopping!”

But, that’s me. That’s my voice. That’s what I love to read aloud. What do you like to read? What’s your voice? Who is telling your story? And what words do you want to use to tell it? I can’t answer those questions — only you can.

Now, scoot. Off you go. Don’t you have a book to write?

Stolen Moments

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5:50 a.m. on her 18th Birthday

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Words, Words, Words

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