It's nearly the end of 2009. I started this blog to write about the year I've taken off from practicing law to write. So, now that the year is over it seems like it's time to stop this particular blog. It's true I have no immediate plans to return to work, but I think I've said pretty much everything I've had to say on this topic. But I kind of like this blogging thing. So I'm starting a blog about the books I read and what I think of them. Visit me there at http://klistbooks.wordpress.com (already active).
I feel it is only right to report in on what I have actually accomplished vs. what I hoped to do:
1. "Standing Room" memoir -- completed and sitting in an enormous binder on my bookshelf. I've been sending out queries to agents since September and no bites yet, but there are several I haven't heard from and I'm deciding whether to gear up for another round in the new year. Still have mixed feelings about how important it is to me to have it published. I really wanted to see if I had what it takes to finish it and the courage to send it out and let strangers read and evaluate it. So, on the major thing I set out to do this year -- I have succeeded!
2. Read less -- a complete failure. I thought it would be important to spend less time reading in order to devote more time to writing. I experimented with trying to focus on non-fiction so that I wouldn't be influenced by the fiction style of others while I was trying to write my own. No go. I've read 149 books this year. And there is still a day and a half to go.
3. Attend writing conferences -- another success. I went to the UCLA Writer's Studio in February, the Stanford Write Retreat in May and the Napa Valley Writers Conference in July. All wonderful. I am skipping UCLA this year (in deference to a birthday trip to New York) but I hope to go to the other two again this year -- career permitting.
4. Keep a blog -- a surprise success. My sons doubted I had what it takes to keep blog content fresh. Don't know about that but it was a goal to post two to three times a week when I wasn't traveling.
5. See whether I would write when I no longer had any excuses -- another success, even though it comes as a bit of a burden. I write almost every day and I can't imagine not doing that in the future. I have come to see that I am one of those modestly talented people who can't leave the thing they love to one side and move on. It is my pleasure and my burden to get to spend time inside my head everyday, to the detriment of exercise, professional development, home-cooked meals, going to movies with friends. This is what I do for better and worse. And most days it feels like this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Don't know why. Don't know if I ever will know why. But there it is.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Satisfaction Index
I am a list maker, a checker-offer of items on to do lists. Part of it comes from being a litigation attorney for so long but it's also just my nature.
This past year I've struggled to come up with a way to try to measure whether I'm writing enough and how to balance that with other things I want to do, like exercise or cook or just goof around.
A month or so ago I came up with something I called the "Satisfaction Index" to help me track this. It's such a niggling, bean-counting approach I am almost embarrassed to share it. But it seems to work for me so I'll put myself on the line. Here's how it works: I need to accomplish 800 points a week.
So how do I "earn" a point? A point is a word written, a page edited, a minute exercised, a minute playing the piano. There are some refinements that I've had to make to have the balance work. For example, a word written is actually only worth a tenth of a point. And since walking for exercise is so much less strenuous than anything else I do a minute of walking is only worth half a point. In rough terms it comes down to what I've been trying to do all year -- write 1,000 words five days a week and exercise an hour a day five days a week. See 5,000 words computes to 500 points and 60 minutes of exercise five days a week is 300 points, thus equalling the magic 800. I added in playing the piano just to encourage me to do that more.
Maybe an illustration of this week so far will work best:
Saturday - piano 45 minutes (45)
write 2910 words (291)
Sunday -- piano 25 minutes (25)
Monday -- write 1040 words (104)
Tuesday (so far) -- gym 95 minutes (95)
Thus, a total of 560 so far.
I know, I know. It's kind of creepy. But it seems to help me keep in balance, so I'll stick to it for a while.
This past year I've struggled to come up with a way to try to measure whether I'm writing enough and how to balance that with other things I want to do, like exercise or cook or just goof around.
A month or so ago I came up with something I called the "Satisfaction Index" to help me track this. It's such a niggling, bean-counting approach I am almost embarrassed to share it. But it seems to work for me so I'll put myself on the line. Here's how it works: I need to accomplish 800 points a week.
So how do I "earn" a point? A point is a word written, a page edited, a minute exercised, a minute playing the piano. There are some refinements that I've had to make to have the balance work. For example, a word written is actually only worth a tenth of a point. And since walking for exercise is so much less strenuous than anything else I do a minute of walking is only worth half a point. In rough terms it comes down to what I've been trying to do all year -- write 1,000 words five days a week and exercise an hour a day five days a week. See 5,000 words computes to 500 points and 60 minutes of exercise five days a week is 300 points, thus equalling the magic 800. I added in playing the piano just to encourage me to do that more.
Maybe an illustration of this week so far will work best:
Saturday - piano 45 minutes (45)
write 2910 words (291)
Sunday -- piano 25 minutes (25)
Monday -- write 1040 words (104)
Tuesday (so far) -- gym 95 minutes (95)
Thus, a total of 560 so far.
I know, I know. It's kind of creepy. But it seems to help me keep in balance, so I'll stick to it for a while.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
My Favorite Books of 2009
These are not in any order other than the order in which I read them. You will find a lot of memoir and short story collections this year.
Rowing Without Oars by Ulla-Carin Lindquist – Lindquist was a well-known TV journalist in Sweden who was stricken by a debilitating, progressive disease. This memoir is about her family and her life through the end of her life. While the subject matter is sad, the manner in which she writes about what she is going through and its effects on her family is moving and up-lifting.
Irina by Irina Baronova – this isn’t for everyone but I was captivated. Baronova was one of Balanchine’s “baby ballerinas” who came to prominence in post-revolutionary Paris during the Golden Age of ballet. She recently died and I learned she had written a memoir, which I just had to have.
Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick – a high-charged, startling memoir about growing up in New York with an emotionally challenging mother. It almost felt like I had held my stomach in from tension the whole time I was reading it.
Female Trouble by Antonya Nelson – I gave this short story collection to so many people this year! It’s amazing. I had the great luck to spend a week in Nelson’s workshop at the Napa Valley Writers Conference this summer and listening to her made me appreciate her work all the more (and set me off on a rush of reading lots of short story collections).
The Street by Ann Petry – this is a Harlem Renaissance novel about a single-mother trying to raise her child. Gritty and grabbing. Couldn’t put it down.
Firebird by Mark Doty – an extraordinary memoir about growing up. If I describe it any further it will sound much less powerful than it is.
Safekeeping by Abigail Thomas – Abigail Thomas is a big discovery for me this year. I read her two memoirs (this and “A Three Dog Life”) as well as her book on writing memoir. All are wonderful but I made myself list just one. I chose “Safekeeping” because of its startling use of narrative. I find it inspiring and whenever I am stuck in my own writing I think of this book and sometimes pull it out and read a few pages.
The Best Day The Worst Day by Donald Hall – this memoir is about poet Hall’s relationship with his wife, poet Jane Kenyon, as she dies of cancer. Heart-wrenching and sad and such a wonderful view of a couple in love.
The Last Summer of the World by Emily Mitchell – a World War I novel about the photographer Edward Steichen, who was tasked with photographing battle fields. A big, fun subplot about Auguste Rodin too.
Grant and Twain by Mark Perry – a great book about the friendship between Ulysses Grant and Mark Twain and the story behind the writing and publication of Grant’s memoir. A fun and informative read.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer – don’t know how I missed this when it came out.
Where Did You Sleep Last Night? by Danzy Senna – a memoir about the author’s parents idealistic and short-lived bi-racial marriage in the 60’s and her search to learn more about her father’s family. I saw the author read aloud from her book and then read her novel “Symptomatic” which is also wonderful.
Runaway by Alice Munro – one of the current masters of the short story form.
Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin – don’t know how I missed this collection of short stories. I pieced them out so that the book would last longer.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett – enjoyed every moment of this. Wonderful as an audiobook.
After Rain by William Trevor – Trevor is such a master. This is a set of short stories. His depiction of the narrow-minded claustrophobia of Irish life is almost too painful to read at times.
Southern Cross by Skip Horack – wonderful short story collection and his first book. I got to hear him speak at the Napa Valley Writers Conference.
For Grace Received by Valeria Parrella – this is a set of short stories by a contemporary Neapolitan writer. Very interesting view of Naples.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – it was one of my objectives to fill in the Nabokov gap in my reading. I did this as an audiobook, read by Jeremy Irons. Completely chilling.
Gifts of War by Mackenzie Ford – another World War I novel about a man working in intelligence. The book is written under a nom de plume by a well-known historian. A wonderful story and very well-crafted.
Rowing Without Oars by Ulla-Carin Lindquist – Lindquist was a well-known TV journalist in Sweden who was stricken by a debilitating, progressive disease. This memoir is about her family and her life through the end of her life. While the subject matter is sad, the manner in which she writes about what she is going through and its effects on her family is moving and up-lifting.
Irina by Irina Baronova – this isn’t for everyone but I was captivated. Baronova was one of Balanchine’s “baby ballerinas” who came to prominence in post-revolutionary Paris during the Golden Age of ballet. She recently died and I learned she had written a memoir, which I just had to have.
Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick – a high-charged, startling memoir about growing up in New York with an emotionally challenging mother. It almost felt like I had held my stomach in from tension the whole time I was reading it.
Female Trouble by Antonya Nelson – I gave this short story collection to so many people this year! It’s amazing. I had the great luck to spend a week in Nelson’s workshop at the Napa Valley Writers Conference this summer and listening to her made me appreciate her work all the more (and set me off on a rush of reading lots of short story collections).
The Street by Ann Petry – this is a Harlem Renaissance novel about a single-mother trying to raise her child. Gritty and grabbing. Couldn’t put it down.
Firebird by Mark Doty – an extraordinary memoir about growing up. If I describe it any further it will sound much less powerful than it is.
Safekeeping by Abigail Thomas – Abigail Thomas is a big discovery for me this year. I read her two memoirs (this and “A Three Dog Life”) as well as her book on writing memoir. All are wonderful but I made myself list just one. I chose “Safekeeping” because of its startling use of narrative. I find it inspiring and whenever I am stuck in my own writing I think of this book and sometimes pull it out and read a few pages.
The Best Day The Worst Day by Donald Hall – this memoir is about poet Hall’s relationship with his wife, poet Jane Kenyon, as she dies of cancer. Heart-wrenching and sad and such a wonderful view of a couple in love.
The Last Summer of the World by Emily Mitchell – a World War I novel about the photographer Edward Steichen, who was tasked with photographing battle fields. A big, fun subplot about Auguste Rodin too.
Grant and Twain by Mark Perry – a great book about the friendship between Ulysses Grant and Mark Twain and the story behind the writing and publication of Grant’s memoir. A fun and informative read.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer – don’t know how I missed this when it came out.
Where Did You Sleep Last Night? by Danzy Senna – a memoir about the author’s parents idealistic and short-lived bi-racial marriage in the 60’s and her search to learn more about her father’s family. I saw the author read aloud from her book and then read her novel “Symptomatic” which is also wonderful.
Runaway by Alice Munro – one of the current masters of the short story form.
Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin – don’t know how I missed this collection of short stories. I pieced them out so that the book would last longer.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett – enjoyed every moment of this. Wonderful as an audiobook.
After Rain by William Trevor – Trevor is such a master. This is a set of short stories. His depiction of the narrow-minded claustrophobia of Irish life is almost too painful to read at times.
Southern Cross by Skip Horack – wonderful short story collection and his first book. I got to hear him speak at the Napa Valley Writers Conference.
For Grace Received by Valeria Parrella – this is a set of short stories by a contemporary Neapolitan writer. Very interesting view of Naples.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – it was one of my objectives to fill in the Nabokov gap in my reading. I did this as an audiobook, read by Jeremy Irons. Completely chilling.
Gifts of War by Mackenzie Ford – another World War I novel about a man working in intelligence. The book is written under a nom de plume by a well-known historian. A wonderful story and very well-crafted.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Chicken Soup = Finished Short Story
A day when I get organized to make chicken stock is always going to be a good day. I love making stock but I can't always get my energy up to go to the store and then spend most of the day checking what's going on at the stove. But I LOVE having my own stock to use when I make risotto or soup or something - rich, full flavor and only as much sodium as I have personally added.
I made stock on Wednesday -- the day my son came home from college for his Christmas break. I pulled out the enormous blue enamel stockpot and happily rough chopped leeks and carrots and celery. The house was wreathed in the smell of vegetables and chicken all day.
I didn't make the actual soup until yesterday. Late in the afternoon, when the soup was pretty much finished and just needed to have some noodles, I went to my desk to write. I had an idea for the final scene of a short story I've been working on but wasn't sure how to wrap everything up. I sat down and started and about an hour later, I was finished! Done! Ending to story!
Now, it may be a little pat. I'm not sure. But I'm going to set it aside for a few weeks and take a closer look then.
But for now my early Christmas present to myself is the belief that any day on which I make soup with my own stock is a day on which I will accomplish something significant with my writing.
I made stock on Wednesday -- the day my son came home from college for his Christmas break. I pulled out the enormous blue enamel stockpot and happily rough chopped leeks and carrots and celery. The house was wreathed in the smell of vegetables and chicken all day.
I didn't make the actual soup until yesterday. Late in the afternoon, when the soup was pretty much finished and just needed to have some noodles, I went to my desk to write. I had an idea for the final scene of a short story I've been working on but wasn't sure how to wrap everything up. I sat down and started and about an hour later, I was finished! Done! Ending to story!
Now, it may be a little pat. I'm not sure. But I'm going to set it aside for a few weeks and take a closer look then.
But for now my early Christmas present to myself is the belief that any day on which I make soup with my own stock is a day on which I will accomplish something significant with my writing.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Fierce Protector
This is my protector muse. I don't remember her name. She is fierce and proud and her spear is double-sided and very pokey. She stands on top of the bookshelf in my office and she guards me against distractions.
I am not at all a comic book/fantasy/science fiction person. If left to their own devices my stories are full of such subtle motivations and actions that people sometimes beg me to please TELL them some more instead of so incessantly SHOWING -- i.e., "when he moved his napkin ring for the second time, are you trying to say he's going to stay with her after all?"
A few years ago I was asked to help a leading comic book artist to form his own company and to wrest his characters from an arguably unclear contractual arrangement so that he could go and publish new works featuring them. We were successful and a few months later he was free to do what he wanted with these fantastically drawn women.
My protector muse is a thank you gift from that client. When I was still practicing law she stood on the bookshelf in my office, inviting not a few questions and comments from more conservative clients who were just looking for help with some dispute over the sale of a business. A partner of mine had a feng shui consultant come in one day and she had a very bad reaction to where I had placed my fierce warrior. She was facing the door into my office and thus, apparently, repelling people and energy within my own firm. Not a good idea, I guess. The feng shui woman suggested that I place the warrior facing the outer window. I can't say my professional luck improved (although I have managed to be able to swing this year off for writing so I can't complain), but when I brought the warrior to my home office I knew exactly where she needed to be placed. And it's pretty much the only place in the house where the cats don't prowl and crawl. So she has successfully protected herself from that.
When I look at her I do feel like I have another person on my team, looking out for me.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Rasumovsky
Listening to Beethoven's "Rasumovsky" string quartet. The adagio is maybe the most beautiful piece of music I've ever heard. My iPod was on shuffle when it came up, but the moment it started I felt rooted to my spot, unable to move for the entire 21 minutes.
Why am I in a period of experiencing great art and wondering why I am even trying? First "Lolita" (which I finished this morning) and now this. Oh, and the 25th anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame the other night. Oh, and listening to a radio interview with Twyla Tharp about her new book. Sometimes I wish I were a little more open to mainstream pop culture and could just bury myself in some reality TV for the rest of the day.
I know I am doing this for the pleasure of doing it, but I'm at a weird plot point in the short story I'm writing and I feel like I can't do anything else until I figure out what Danny is going to do. I'm not sure that he knows himself yet. So this doesn't feel very pleasurable at the moment.
My brightspot -- I have my "Write Time" group tomorrow. I've grown so fond of this group. Just in the last two months we have hit our stride. We meet two Thursdays a month and just sit at a big square table and we each write on our own projects. We started working for an hour and now we are doing two hours. There is less and less chitchat everytime (even though I like the chitchat -- it's like we have a group seriousness that is overtaking everything). It is so wonderful. I know the time will fly by and that I'll get more than a thousand words done and maybe I will even discover what Danny has in mind.
And then I need to go to LA Mill. Danny and his friends to go have coffee at LA Mill and I can't quite remember what the menu and the equipment on the counter looks like. Last night it seemed absolutely essential that I tighten up these little details. The fact that I can get the best cup of coffee in Los Angeles is just a side benefit.
Why am I in a period of experiencing great art and wondering why I am even trying? First "Lolita" (which I finished this morning) and now this. Oh, and the 25th anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame the other night. Oh, and listening to a radio interview with Twyla Tharp about her new book. Sometimes I wish I were a little more open to mainstream pop culture and could just bury myself in some reality TV for the rest of the day.
I know I am doing this for the pleasure of doing it, but I'm at a weird plot point in the short story I'm writing and I feel like I can't do anything else until I figure out what Danny is going to do. I'm not sure that he knows himself yet. So this doesn't feel very pleasurable at the moment.
My brightspot -- I have my "Write Time" group tomorrow. I've grown so fond of this group. Just in the last two months we have hit our stride. We meet two Thursdays a month and just sit at a big square table and we each write on our own projects. We started working for an hour and now we are doing two hours. There is less and less chitchat everytime (even though I like the chitchat -- it's like we have a group seriousness that is overtaking everything). It is so wonderful. I know the time will fly by and that I'll get more than a thousand words done and maybe I will even discover what Danny has in mind.
And then I need to go to LA Mill. Danny and his friends to go have coffee at LA Mill and I can't quite remember what the menu and the equipment on the counter looks like. Last night it seemed absolutely essential that I tighten up these little details. The fact that I can get the best cup of coffee in Los Angeles is just a side benefit.
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