October Wrap Up; November Countdown

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Last Sunday, I was at Leon and Lulu’s Books and Authors event, which is always, always a fun time, even if you aren’t selling a lot of books. (I sold a few.) This store is a great place to people-watch (any day, any time), it’s funky and comfortable, and everyone is super friendly. They feed you, they give you coffee, and my couch was to die for. I even made a new friend, a fellow artist from across the Detroit River!

I even survived my 15 minutes of reading time! I chose “The Campbell’s Tomato Soup Tragedy” – my San Francisco Writers Conference First Place Contest winner of 2016 *pats back with own hand*, “Just Before Turning on the Furnace,” and “A Love Story in 50-word Chapters” to read. I was nervous, as it was only the second time I’ve read my work aloud to P-E-O-P-L-E. The first time, last February at the conference, I was sufficiently juiced up; this time, I’d only had coffee and popcorn under my belt.

It wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. There were less than a handful of listeners, and even without a mike, I did okay. (My voice is very low – unless I’m screaming, and that’s just not attractive!) Maybe I spoke too quickly. I know I didn’t emote like Dr. Andy. Later on, I wondered why the stage fright. I regularly karaoke, and do my best at it without alcohol. I’ve learned to belt out tunes from my diaphragm instead of my throat.

Hmm… perhaps this works with reading? I should give it a try.

Still working on the final draft of Virtually Yours Forever. I was waylaid by smashing my right hand into my granite counter top, which resulted in a bruised and purple mess. (Don’t ask how, just know Purrby was involved.) It was entirely too painful to type for nearly a week.

We are days away from November, which means NaNoWriMo! Yes, I will give it the old college try again. I have a story in my head, about sisters who return home when their father dies and old dysfunction and past grievances come to light, ya-da ya-da, and (perhaps) in the end, they kiss and make up. (I say “perhaps” because as you might know, I like my characters to suffer.) I will attempt to make a NaNo post if my word-count will allow.

And finally, fall has finally fallen, after most of September and October feeling absolutely tropical. The leaves are beginning to turn, riots of color. It’s not my favorite time of the year; it’s pretty, but what follows is cold and snow and wind and unpleasantness. But winter is a good time to hibernate and write.

If you want to buy Shorts, it’s available on Amazon HERE. Or, if you want a signed copy, email me at jlhuspek [at] msn [dot] com and I’d be happy to get one out to you. (No, I have not figured out the buy button thing yet.)

 

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Introducing “Shorts”

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Warning: Shameless self-promotion

It only took three weeks of monkeying around with the layout of Shorts (the worst part of self-publishing, if you ask me!). Word of advice to poets: it’s likely your layout will not survive the digital age. Unless you are some sort of computer guru. Me? I’m stumbling around in the dark. If I find an answer to my prayers, it’s probably by accident. Formatting a novel is so much easier. Compiling the material for Shorts was the easiest task, once I found the material.

The hard copy will be printed by CreateSpace (using my imprint), and BookBaby is working on the eBook. Just as I sent my thirtieth edit in to CreateSpace, I received my eBook file. What a mess! Not their fault; again, it’s the poetry that whacks up the way it appears.

The problems weren’t limited to the interior. While my cover was done by someone on fiverr, it wasn’t complete. Tweaking had to be done there too, which is soooooo frustrating. Here again, I am familiar with Adobe products as I use them in my Real Life job, but Fireworks? NO. Trial, error, trial, error. Oh well, it’s how I learn. Just hope I don’t forget when I attempt this again in the near future.

Now I’m waiting for the final proof and then voila! My chap book will be ready to go.

What did I learn?

It’s far easier to write than to complete the after-writing tasks, like editing, formatting, etc. Ugh, and the marketing. As you might know, I’m a rather lackadaisical promoter. NOT looking forward to this part of the book equation.

I also learned that I need some technical skills. Perhaps when I’ve retired from the Day Job, I can take a few advanced classes on Adobe InDesign. Or at least watch some YouTube videos.

I also learned everything takes time. Writing a cohesive book takes time. Editing and re-writes take even more. The rest of it is a time suck for sure. Which is why we shouldn’t waste time (but I do anyway). I’ve learned my lesson, and am going back to the grind, with nary a break.

Signed copies will be available through this web site (once I figure out how to add a “buy” button). I’ll also be at the next Leon and Lulu Books and Authors event, Sunday, October 22 from 11-5. If you are in southeastern Michigan, hope to see you there! (I volunteered to read. 🙂 )

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Out From Under

Posted by Joanne Huspek

I have returned after ten mostly restful days in San Francisco and northern California.

(I know. HOW? How is it that I’ve returned? It’s a major effort to drive back to the airport each time. I’d just as soon stay there.)

My son and I decided to hit up way NorCal and spent a few days in Eureka. We ate too much good food. We explored the redwood forest and spent one day driving up the coast, missing the record breaking 102 degree heat wave in San Francisco, but suffering under the smokiness of forest fires – not from California, but from Oregon.

One thing: I’m especially taken with the tall trees. They are thousands of years old and so enormous, it’s hard to compare them to a regular pine tree. Using a car or my son for scale doesn’t fully reveal the enormity of them. Three hundred feet tall! Imagine, they were there before…anything! This country, other countries, wars, Jesus… And they go for miles and miles in Humboldt county, so majestic and peaceful, just as they were back then. It was a great way to spend a few days.

But…

Eventually, one must return to the *ahem* grind, which is what I’ve been grinding at since I arrived Tuesday. As much as the previous ten days have been relaxing, the last four have been an absolute whirlwind.

One thing I did take away from my mini-vacay is that it is necessary to step away from your work in order to make it better. This applies to Real Life work and creative pursuits. Call it breathing room, call it contemplation or meditation. Call it seeing the trees and the forest. Call it doing nothing and thinking about doing nothing and not feeling the least bit guilty. (I don’t know how to describe it. I’m not the expert.)

All I know is at this moment I appear to be at peak performance, not only at the grind work, but in my writing. Poetry! Scenes! Journal entries! Drawing! The flow has resumed. Hallelujah and pass the margaritas!

Try it. You might not be able to physically go somewhere cool (I rarely take time off), but take ten minutes a day to go somewhere in your mind. Slow your breathing, clear your head. Make it a habit. You’d be surprised at what pops out from under the clutter.

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Inspirational Muse

Posted by Joanne Huspek

My feet spending a week in San Francisco

Isn’t it amazing what work a writer can complete just by getting the hell out of Dodge and camping out in a cheap motel halfway across the country?

I’ve only been in San Francisco a few days and have edited (to some satisfaction) my next book, including linking the chapters to the table of contents.

I’ve written in my Hobonichi every day. Even filled up pages I missed when I was at home and too busy or too tired to write.

I’ve sorted through my early writings, which spent the last thirty years or so in the basements of various houses we’ve owned. The amazing thing (besides finding them at all, or that they’ve survived multiple minor basement floodings) is that some of this stuff is pretty good! Not fabulous, because my style was still in its infancy, but I’ll still be able to use some of the dialogue.

This is why I never delete (or in this case, discard type- or hand-written) old writing. There’s always the possibility of a gem in the coal.

I take daily walks on Ocean Beach, early in the morning, before the beach is overtaken with humanity. I love walking it at dawn, when it’s foggy and cold, quiet and still. A lot of thoughts come to mind as I walk, about my life, about the characters I’m writing about, about poetry and the world. The Real World is chaotic; there’s so much noise that it’s hard to calm your mind enough to catch the beautiful. Walking is a regulator, it measures the breathing and clears the head.

Granted, I walk/run at home, on my NordicTrack, but it’s not the same. I’ve got TV or headphones on, and I’m paying attention to the Google map screen. When I’m at the beach, I mute my phone and won’t answer unless it’s an emergency.

For me, Ocean Beach is therapeutic. It’s (dare I say it?) my muse, my source for inspiration. It calms me enough so that creative thoughts bob to the surface. (So many, I’m afraid I won’t catch them all, but I write them down as soon as I return to my room.) It’s no wonder that I’ve used Ocean Beach as a setting in my writing. As you might know, the photo I took of the Richmond District on my header looking east from the beach is framed over my bed. Sometimes when I wake up at home, I might think I’m back in San Francisco.

So while I’m here, I’ll make use of the time I have to get caught up, refreshed and motivated.

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The Weight of Words

Posted by Joanne Huspek

Give love a chance.

If you think I’ve been strangely silent online, you would be right. I could blame it on Real Life (that’s a good scapegoat), or health problems, or logistical stress, but it’s more. Whether Twitter, Facebook, or even this blog, I’ve been slowly backing away from the screen, mainly because of the turmoil associated with the so-called “social” networks. It’s not that I’m not engaged or thinking or even investigating, because I’m all that and more. I see all sides, good, bad, in between. I’ve got a brain; I can process the world around me.

I love my online friends, which is why my heart hurts when I see the rancor being spewed or maybe quietly implied. But words are as weighty as they are diaphanous. As a writer, I see their value, and changing a sentence by replacing words or inserting punctuation changes the tone and meaning of the words. It changes the intent.

Ah, but the Internet. We are but tiny human blobs connected by a network we don’t quite understand. (I know I don’t!) We can’t see the facial expressions of our online friends. We can only imagine. Likewise, words are displayed and splayed and launched with abandon. If you don’t agree, you’re called names or disconnected from “friends.” We all fall in step or we’re discarded. (So much for the social experiment.)

Things I’ve Learned in the Last Few Weeks

My son has an expression he uses. “Too strong.” He’s feeling better in his life, and has a new-found awareness that if he thinks (and writes) the things off the top of his head, he can derive a little (or a lot) of shock value from the general public. And if I make a disapproving comment, he automatically comes back with “Too strong?”

A lot of words are “too strong.” Take “hate” for example. I used to use that term a lot, until my sister-in-law pointed out that I was using the word for everything. “I hate the school district.” “I hate that color.” “I hate when he/she/it does that.” “I hate that I can’t fit into a bikini anymore.”

My kids were little then. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t very successful, but I tried hard to limit my use of that term. Now the only thing I truly hate are liars and cheats, but they deserve to be hated in my world.

The Internet is chock full of words that are too strong. (The F word comes to mind. Why not find an equally strong word(s) that is thoughtful?) You might choose words you don’t really mean, but you use them to elicit emotion. You might even embellish on the words you’ve chosen in order to draw sympathy to your cause. (Believe me, I have done this myself when laying out my own arguments.)

You might even be like an anonymous someone who took a sentence a person (who I do know) said in the public forum and blew a simple opinion harming no one and turned it into an atomic mushroom cloud of despicable innuendo. I know the opposing views were passionate, but the tirade headed toward spite, the kind that threatened safety of family and employment. Had this person gone a bit farther, I might have had to resort to legal action. Just because you imagine something and say it’s so (especially regarding a person you don’t even know) does not make it so.

These are trying times.

One thing my daughter learned this past week: You can’t have an opinion. She’s young, she’s passionate, but last week she took all of her political stickers off her car for fear of “liability.” She did not want the harassment of people calling her loathsome names. (Why a 27 year old would think that, I don’t know. I was definitely not that advanced at that age.) I don’t agree with a lot of what she does and says. Really, now. She’s my daughter. But part of me, the heart of me, felt sick to my stomach when she told me this.

We are still (I hope) a free country. If you can’t have strong opinions, if you don’t feel safe expressing them, then damn it, we’ve lost a freedom. You get to have your opinions, as I get to have mine. As an artist, I need the freedom to think what I want, to put my thoughts into writing or art. Unfortunately, the trend has been heading toward intolerance for a long time – another reason why my stomach hurt. I used to write opinion. I purposely gave it up because some of my opinions weren’t being taken in the humorous light I had intended. I use my real name. I didn’t want to be hunted down and accused of things that aren’t true – or worse.

One happy spot in the last few weeks: Someone left me a Facebook message after reading Virtually Yours. (Talk about an Internet story that sounds so old and dated!) She loved it! If I can make one person happy with my words, it makes up for current buzz of negativity we are living through today.

The takeaway: Choose your words carefully. They’re not casual; they can hurt, even though there may be no intent to do so. And of course, watch what you  post on the Internet, because unlike ice cream and good times and puppy love, the Internet is forever.

Choose to be positive.

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Sometimes, We Read

Posted by Joanne Huspek

This is the Duchess of Hayes. She cannot read, but she sleeps under my right armpit when I do.

This weekend I took a brief rest from my endeavors of slapping together my chap book (poetry, flash, and tiny essays). I’m not a whiz when it comes to book design, and choosing the perfect 24 or so pieces (and editing them) has turned into a colossal time suck. Not that I don’t mind, it’s exciting to uncover the long hidden and shine them up to make them fancy. It’s just this part of the creative process has less to do with art and more to do with mechanics. After weeks of struggle, I was soooo ready for a diversion.

My copy of Michelle Richmond’s The Marriage Pact arrived in the mail Friday. Yippee! Just in time for granddogsitting for the weekend! (If you’re ever asked to dog sit for two chihuahuas when you have your hands full with your own dog and cat – and life, which includes keeping the house clean for potential home buyers, think twice. Love my daughter, love the dogs, but I’m sure I’m a cartoon coming out of the house in the morning with two leashed dogs and one in a carrier.)

I know you’ve heard me ad nauseum, I love Michelle Richmond! I love her writing style, I love the plots, I love the subplots! I have all of her books! I’ve MET her! I’ve taken a couple of online classes with her! The Marriage Pact is perhaps different from her previous style, but yet delivers as a great read.

Why? Because I couldn’t stop turning the pages, that’s why! I had to find out what was going to happen next! I dragged this book (don’t usually buy hardcovers of anything, but there I go) all over town, along with the two chihuahuas and my nervous and unruly Boston terrier. I read it in snippets at the office and waiting at my daughter’s house for the home buyers to go away! I read it so intently, my husband kept asking me was I going to get dinner ready. (He was starving; I needed to finish a chapter.) Today I went home IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY and finished the last 50 pages.

What can I say? Very satisfying. 🙂 (I won’t spoil it for you. If you really want to know what happened, go buy your own copy!)

Now I’m ready to go back to the edits. I’ve got a cover designer on the job, and I will plug away like a good writer. I might even finish before my self-imposed deadline.

Sometimes, writers must read. I read all the time, but it’s truly exciting when you get to read something spectacular. Reading sparks the fire. Maybe it will result in a conflagration.

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The Beauty that Touches the Heart

Posted by Joanne Huspek

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-7c4VNGOgU

One of my Facebook friends, a musician and all around raconteur who likes to toss things out there for the sake of lively conversation, recently posted a meme titled “What is the most beautiful song ever written?” People piped up with suggestions from all genres, including hard rock, blues.

Of course, I have opinions, and after much thought, I offered up “Father and Son” by Cat Stevens. I know. So very sappy. It’s a song told from the point of view of the father, and of the son. It’s short, it’s sweet, maybe it’s even cliched. But even though I first heard the song over 40 years ago, my heart still hitches a bit when I hear it, dare I say I might even get teary-eyed? Even though I’m of the female persuasion, I have been on both sides of the generational divide. I was on the son’s side way back in the day. As a daughter, a young woman, I was headstrong (with those strong opinions once again) and did things my parents did not agree with. And now I listen to the song from the other side. As a mother, and old woman, I have decades of hindsight under my belt. It’s a natural tendency to want to make things easier for your children, to protect them from the evil in the world, even though in reality you can not.

That’s the main reason why “Father and Son” is a beautiful song to me. Songs from this era pull me back into the way I felt back then. Memories rush from their dark corners and into the fore. Plus, you know… Cat Stevens. From back in the day when he was up-and-coming. What’s not to like?

A good ANYTHING (book-movie-work of art – you fill in the blank) will do that. You experience a thing of beauty that touches your heart and leaves a lasting impression, something that can be drawn up again and again.

I suppose that’s what I strive to do in all my endeavors. As a writer, I’m telling a story, but I want to make sure that within the confines of those pages, what I reveal will be the best words I can find, used in the best way I can. It’s not just beginning – middle – denouement – The End. I’m searching for more to give you. As an artist, I try to make my designs wearable and beautiful. Yes, they are part of me, but I’m looking to touch something in you, too. When I cook (another of my loves), I don’t just cook for nourishment, I want my food to be a work of art as well. I want the people who join me in eating it to feel my passion.

There are many things in the mundane world we are told to worry about, most of which are petty nuisances that don’t amount to much once you strip away the outer shiny covering. What really matters is the heart, of your family and friends, of your readers, of the world at large. What really matters is the contributions we make from one heart to another.

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