Hi there! This is the last of six blog posts about how we got the idea for one of our books. (And speaking of our books, Saturday, January 30th is the last day to enter the contest to win one--see below for details.)
And since the book I'll be talking about is a novel in poems and since it is Poetry Friday, let's start with a poem:
The house we bought did, indeed, have a small blue room. It was downstairs, while the other two bedrooms were upstairs. And though my sister was two years older than I was, I got the downstairs bedroom.
I’m not saying that room was where this book came from...but that's when I began typing late at night while everyone else was asleep upstairs. (When my mom would come down to check on me, I’d snap off the light and freeze. As soon as she went back upstairs…I was tap-tap-taping again on that portable Corona typewriter.)
What was I typing? Love poems about a boy who played viola in orchest. Tap-tap-tap.
The beginning of a novel about a white girl and an African-American boy stranded on an island. With only one can of tuna. And no can opener. Tap-tap-tap.
Bits of dialogue. Musings. Dreams. And every joke from the weekly T.V. show, Laugh-In. Tap-tap-tap.
They're both characters in Girl Coming in for a Landing—a novel in poems (exquisitely illustrated in collage by Elaine Clayton, published by Knopf), which is my story, of course—but it’s tweaked and fictionalized and finally, not my story.
It’s the school-year-in-the-life-of a ‘tween. Her first period, first crush, first date, first kiss…and first published poem. It’s about those two boys. And about coming to terms with her sister and coming to accept herself…and her passionate need to write.
That was me, Girl Writer, and that's where the seeds of this book came from: journals from junior high, high school, college and beyond. Journals were a place for love poems, a place to lean into, a place to record my history.
Do I still keep a journal? You betcha. I’ve been emailing it to a dear friend, one day at a time, for years—I call it my blog with one reader. And she actually reads it.
Now that’s a friend!
As Carmela, Mary Ann, JoAnn, Esther and Jeanne Marie have emphasized in the past five posts, finding the heart of the story is the key and for me, the biggest challenge.
Sometimes condensing an idea makes it more potent. More powerful. Years ago, I thought that I had to write every single thing that happened in my journal every night. It takes a long time to write a historical account of the day. I got tired just thinking about it! Finally, I stopped writing in my journal altogether.
Then, one of my friends, a screenwriter, shared her journal writing secret. Her rule is this: she only has to write for one minute each night.
One minute! I tried it—it's wonderful! It's freeing! Writing for one minute a night forces me to figure out the essence—the heart of that day—it helps me focus: what do I want to remember? The low cooing of a mourning dove? When a friend hurt my feelings? When the janitor winked at me and made my day? How a black cat swished her tail patiently by a pond? How slowly the classroom clock moved right before three o'clock?
Condensing the time I have to write is similar to fitting my words into a poetic form. My day as haiku.
Okay, it's your turn.
1) Date your page.
2) Look at the clock and write down the time.
3) Now, think about something you want to remember from today. You may write for only one minute.
4) Ready? Go!
They say it takes 21 one days to make a habit...so, do this for 21 days. Then read back over your One-Minute-Journal entries. As JoAnn suggested in her last post's Writing Workout, “Explore your idea collection. Choose two or three ideas that don’t obviously fit together. Try to find a way to connect them into one story. Be open to surprises. Trust the process. Have fun!”
Remember to breathe. And as always, write with joy.