New Beginnings (Again)

When I was a teenager, I bowled in a league. Every Saturday, we’d wake up (relatively) early and go roll a series. Sometimes things were going well; sometimes we’d get a few too many splits. Whenever we’d hit a rough patch, we’d walk up to the scoresheet (you kept your own score in those Neanderthal days) and scratch out a big fat pencil line after the most recent frame to signify that we were now going to “start bowling.”

Sometimes we’d have six or seven pencil scratches in a single 10-frame game. We weren’t shy about our “new beginnings.”

To some extent, I continue to use that philosophy. I look for opportunities to “start fresh.” (Before I go any farther, this is not a prelude to some kind of momentous announcement. In fact, things are going well right now and I hope they’ll continue.)

Here are some of my favorite “starting fresh” points, in no particular order:

• New Year’s Day
• Jewish New Year
• Chinese New Year
• Beginning of each season
• First of every month
• Beginning of school
• Beginning of school vacation
• Any day ending in “y”
• Beginning of each meal
• Beginning of dessert
• When the clock chimes at the top of the hour
• When I click the “new document” button in WORD

How about you? Content with the same ol’, same ol’, or do you crave a fresh beginning?

 

{By the way, you can view my latest fresh beginning here. I just gave my website yet another facelift (Joan Rivers, watch out!).}

 

Alan

Goals vs. Wishes

by G.M. Malliet

Years ago, I read an interview with comedian and actor Drew Carey in which he talked about how he'd achieved success in his career. The world is full of talented would-be comedians and actors, after all. How did Drew manage, after years of struggle, finally to rise to the top of his profession?

His secret was simple: He decided exactly what he wanted to achieve - his goal - and he wrote it down. Then he pinned his goal somewhere where he would see it each each day - on the fridge or the bathroom mirror. His reasoning? "If it's not visible and in your face all the time, it's not a goal. It's a wish."

His good advice has stayed with me. The tendency to wish and dream and hope is part of any writer's makeup - certainly it's part of mine. At what point do you decide you're serious? I think it's at the moment you write down when you're going to be a published author - by what date. What kind of book you're going to write. How many hours you're going to devote to your manuscript. How many pages long it's going to be.

Or anything else that makes the dream specific and alive to you. If you are off by a few pages or even years, what difference does it make when you do reach your goal?


As this is the time of year when we set new goals, here's mine: Within the next three years, I want to spend time in Italy. Not just a vacation, but a real immersion in the country. I want to wake up each day to the rolling landscape, and visit the markets blooming with the different-colored harvests of the seasons. To learn how to cook authentic Italian meals. To share those meals with friends - meals that go on for hours. To see the works of artists who helped invent art as we now know it. To wallow in the sense of limitless time - time to shop, to sip coffee, to people watch, to visit museums, to speculate and to dream. There are few places in the world that allow and encourage this way of life outside of Italy.


If I put money aside for this adventure, the only thing really getting in my way is the language. I tell myself I've never been good at learning languages - that I have one of those brains hard-wired just for English. But with sufficient motivation I know I can learn Italian, even at my great age. The motivation is to be able to purchase Parmesan cheese and balsamic vinegar and fruits and vegetables from a vendor who speaks no English, and to be able to do this with with more than my point, nod, and smile methods of the past. 

So here's the first step that will take me to my overall goal, and I'm writing it down and printing it out: 

I will spend one hour a day in 2011 studying Italian online.

Not a wish, but a goal.


[The photo at right of the happy couple was taken in Cortona, Italy, the perfect place to sip coffee and people watch. The photo at top is from outside a grocers shop in Cortona. And I think the photo in the center is of a place where actor George Clooney stays when he's in Italy. I wonder if the struggling young actor George wrote down his goals, too.]


G.M. Malliet | http://GMMalliet.com
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What Kids Are Saying About Books

by Julia Buckley

At this time of year all sorts of reading polls go up: books of the year, best lists, tips for good writing, et cetera. But mainly we're asking adults these questions. I thought I'd poll my children--ages twelve and sixteen--about their views on books.


IAN (age 16)

What's the best book you read in 2010?'

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. More accurately, it was one of the only books I read in 2010.

On what form of entertainment do you spend most of your time? Do you still make time for reading?

The computer. Does reading computer font count?

Sort of. What sorts of books will you NOT read?

Twilight, and the other stuff in that area. Also post-modern poetry.

If you were a writer, what would be your genre?

Horror.

If you could choose between reading a really good book or seeing a movie based on that book, which would you choose?

It depends on the ratio of pages in book to hours in movie. If the book is like 700 pages, I may just watch the movie. If the movie was good, I'll try the book.

GRAHAM (age 12)

What's the best book you read in 2010?

The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster.

On what form of entertainment do you spend the most of your time? Do you still make time for reading?

I spend a lot of time on my Play Station 3, but I try to make time for reading.

Hmmm. What sorts of books will you NOT read?

I will read any type of book; it depends on the contents of the specific book.


If you were a writer, what would be your genre?

I would choose adventure, because it's more interesting when there is more excitement.

If you could choose between reading a really good book or seeing a movie based on that book, which would you choose?

It depends on the book/movie, but honestly? Probably the movie.

Very revealing; thank you, Graham.

A recent interview on NPR about the future of entertainment informed me of the fact that everything is changing (which we already knew), and that entertainers and producers will need to decide NOW how they will respond to that change.

In the case of writers, things are becoming more visual and more integrated with other media. My sons' comments (albeit extremely brief) seem to highlight that idea. The book is not always the first choice (although, to my relief, they are both in the process of reading one now).

If we want to see the future, we need look no farther than the young people in our midst. They can tell us exactly what it looks like.

May Auld Acquaintance

Keith here.

In 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010, I started a new book in January. Each year I finished that manuscript by December. About three weeks ago, I sent off my latest to my agent. What does that mean? I reckon that I should get started on something new. Right?

Like most writers, the most common question I'm asked is "Where do you get your ideas from?" I do have an idea for a book and like my Dot Dead and Smasher, it's set against a Silicon Valley background. Weirdly though, this time it's non-fiction. Here in the Valley, history is written and rewritten every day. Way back before I was a software guy, I was a history grad student. Maybe I can combine both those earlier callings with my current one as a writer. I'm going to call an editor friend of mine who specializes in business books and see if my idea makes sense to him. Wish me luck.

Any other resolutions for 2011 besides to get going on whatever comes next? One more is to read more books. I've stopped subscribing to The Economist, which I love, but reading what a mess our world is in doesn't seem to help in fixing it. So I'll escape this world for a couple of extra hours a week and spend the time in another world some author has created.

* * *

BTW, I did want to mention the book that had the greatest impact on me in 2010. The memoir, Serenade to the Big Bird, reminded me of Anne Frank's Diary. The author, Bert Stiles, was a B-17 co-pilot in his early twenties during World War II. As with Anne Frank, you know before starting to read the book that he didn't live to see the end of the war. His language is stark and moving and cynical. He gets a medal and reports, "The citation was mimeographed, with my name typed in. The mimeograph was just about out of ink when it got to mine. The exceptional gallantry part was pretty thin.... We were late for chow and all the seats were taken." But like all the best American heroes, under the cynicism runs a streak of old-fashioned idealism:

"There are all kinds of people: senators and whores and barristers and bankers and dishwashers. There are Chinamen and Cockneys and Gypsies and Negroes. There are Lesbians and and cornhuskers and longshoremen.... And some day we are going to catch on that no matter where people are born, or how their eyes slant, and what their blood type, they are just people.... They are not masses.... And until we call them people, and know they are people, all of them, we are going to have a sick world on our hands."

* * *

As I've mentioned, I'm sending out a literary quote each weekday on Twitter (@writerkeith) and here are two for the new year with slightly different outlooks . A wonderful 2011 to you all!

"We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day." Edith Lovejoy Pierce

"Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual." Mark Twain

Happy Holidays from Inkspot!

We Inkspotters are having a little year-end R&R. Hope you're having fun, too.

Back on Monday, January 3. See you then!

The Tea Set

This fall I was asked to lead a workshop at a women's weekend spiritual retreat. Since I don't bead, meditate, or do sacred dancing, but I do know how to string words together, I decided to teach a class on writing the spiritual devotional. I'd never written one, but I studied a bunch and realized they followed a fairly standard pattern of a verse or quote, followed by a short personal story, and finally a few questions or take-away points as the conclusion.

I wasn't sure how the whole thing would go over. Would the women want to write? If they did, would they enjoy it? Would anyone be brave enough to share their work with others? After giving a brief introduction, I read a few examples, handed them pencils and notebooks, and sat back to watch.

My "students" turned out to be star pupils, diligently writing their devotionals and then offering to read them as well. I wish I could convey how moving they were! Many brought us to tears, but all of them brought us closer together. Someone volunteered to compile the pages into a little booklet. Once again, the power of the written word had triumphed.

My devotional is appropriate to the season, and so I share it with you here. Happy Holidays!

Apply your heart to instruction and your ears to words of knowledge. Proverbs 23:12.

Before my daughter's second Christmas, I purchased a little tea set at a local store. I could hardly wait to see her open it, help her set up the flowered cups and saucers, and show her and her doll how to pour "tea." It was still in the back of the car when my mother called and told me she'd found a wonderful gift for Lexi --- a tea set.

I groaned and headed back to the store. On the way I passed my church, a steepled white Congregational in the center of town. Pull in, a small voice told me. And so I did.

The parking lot was quiet. I glanced to the side door of the building and saw a lone woman shivering in the December cold. I put down my window and asked her if she needed help.

"Yes," she said. "I heard there were some toys here?"

I took her into the building where we found the small pile of donated toys. She looked through them and sighed, shaking her head. Impulsively I asked her what she wanted. "I have a little girl at home," she said. "I was hoping for a tea set."

When I handed her the box from the back of my car, a look of surprised joy spread across her face. It was the best Christmas gift I have ever received.

Lord, the whispers of your Spirit work through me. During this busy season, help me to listen.

Keyed Up Birthday Memories

Today is my birthday.

The day I was born, Harry S. Truman was President, though Eisenhower was poised to take over the nation’s reins a few weeks later. The #1 hit song was I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus and the Los Angeles Rams lost the NFL National Conference Championship to the Detroit Lions. Gasoline averaged $.28/gallon.

The day before I was born, my mother was Christmas shopping.

As she told it, she started having labor pains while finishing up her holiday shopping. After all, it was the last weekend before Christmas. Did she tell my father when she went into labor? No. Not. My. Mother. Worried the shopping wouldn’t get done if she left it up to my father (which was a valid concern), she continued on, grabbing a display table every now and then when a contraction hit. The determined and head-strong woman made it home, wrapped and tagged all the gifts and, knowing her, finished her baking, before finally telling Dad it might be time to head for the hospital. I was born late the next morning.

Like every other human on the planet, I have memories of specific milestones in my life. Events not told to me by my parents. I recall walking to the bus stop on my first day of school, holding tight to my lunchbox while my brother held my other hand. I remember my father teaching me to ride a bike. (The man didn’t believe in training wheels. He put me on a hill and when I started pedaling, he let go. Trust me on this. I still have 35mm movies of it.) There was my first bra. My first kiss. My first novel.

Then

But the vivid memory that’s been visiting me this week has been of learning to type, brought about, no doubt, by the recent purchase of a fancy new laptop. Typing. I do it everyday. Often several hours a day. It’s as second nature to me as breathing and just as easy. And the skill has kept food on my table for many years.

I learned to type my freshman year at Whittier High School. I was fourteen. If you do the math, that’s 44 years of typing and my fingers are still going strong. It was in a class filled with the clatter of manual keys smashing against hard platens. When we got to the end of each line, bells would ring. The clatter would stop, replaced by the loud rasping sound of teenage hands yanking the heavy carriage back to the beginning with the help of a slender but sturdy metal arm. The clatter would begin again. And again. And again. There were no delete or undo buttons. No copy and paste features. And definitely no spell check. Not even correction tape. Errors were forever and we were graded on speed and accuracy. And don't get me started on changing the messy &$#@# ribbons.


Now

My typing style is still very aggressive and very fast. I hit the keys hard, often wearing the letters off the keyboard. I blame this on learning to type on heavy machines with stiff keys. It’s also a good thing I learned to touch-type, considering those blank keys. But except for the sound of my fingers hitting the letters, my computer is silent. There’s no bell. No metal against metal return of the carriage. No jamming of keys. The words flow from my brain, down my arms and spurt out through the tips of my ten fingers onto the page like magic. Any malfunction can be solidly blamed on my thought process, not my digits.

Nostalgia is fun and gasoline returning to $.28 a gallon sounds grand, but I wouldn’t want to type my novels on an old Royal or Remington. And I’m sure glad I wasn’t born in the middle of a department store (Thanks, Mom!).

Sue Ann Jaffarian
www.sueannjaffarian.com
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