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Muddling Through Mud

I’ve been working on the same book idea for 4 years now. Some days I’m in love with it. Some days I’m hovering over the delete key. At some point, I’d like to be done. But the more I delve into it, the less likely that seems.

Every new person that reads my work points out, in varying degrees, problems. This is normal. Writing is about drafts, drafts, and more drafts. Intellectually I understand that. But it’s exhausting and disheartening to get crisp white papers back full of blood. Every time. No matter how many good things they say, it’s the bad ones I remember. It’s the bad ones I have to try to fix. And so many times, I have no idea how.

Day after day I pour my soul into my story. And lately, I feel like all I’m making is mud. farmto table (2)

This is not a post written to gain sympathy. I simply want to be honest. And this is where I am in my current MFA journey, one packet in and very discouraged. I’m tired, my heart hurts, and when my heart hurts, I write. Thus this self-indulgent, depressing post. 😉

I don’t have any real solutions to add. There’s not going to be a big hopeful but and the end of this. I will, however, offer a small one: even on my worst days, I can’t imagine stopping. Trying to stuff my dreams and my stories back in would be like trying to put a full Kleenex box back together after my two-year-old has ripped out all the tissues and scattered them all over the house.

So I guess I keep going. Maybe the mud will clear. Maybe the blood will dwindle. Maybe I’ll make it; maybe I won’t.

All I know, is there’s no way in hell I’m getting all those damn tissues back in that box.

 

Storytellers: Expanding Minds and Hearts

“Expand your mind by reading non-fiction books.”

This is advice I’ve heard several times from a popular radio personality. Sounds great, except he goes on to qualify it by insisting fiction book-reading isn’t edifying. It’s “only for fun.”

Yes, fiction books can be fun. (And he and I both agree there’s nothing wrong with that) But they can also be devastating.

And a great fiction or narrative nonfiction book ALWAYS expands my mind.

Good stories, well told. They influence decisions and view points without effort. Without being didactic. And a story doesn’t have to be “real” to be true. Eleanor Estes’s, The Hundred Dresses, Margery William’s The Velveteen Rabbit, L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. These stories shaped the lens through which I view the world.book-1760998_1920

Yes, you should stay well-informed. You should know what’s going on in your world. Facts are important. But facts tend to fray if they’re not sewn together by a story.

“Top Ten Ways To…” and “self-help” books have value (though in the interest of transparency, I’m usually not drawn to them). But if a reader is really looking to expand their mind, they should reach for a story.book-2624494_1920

Tips are forgotten. Facts misplaced. Names spend a lifetime wondering around on the tips of our tongues. But stories, stories are remembered.

I am not a prolific author. I am not a world-renown anything. But I’m still betting on my side. Because I work for stories.

And stories shape souls.