Friday Night Poem #3

One of my first poems for kids, inspired by them, of course.

Farewell

By Núria Coe

Orange and quiet, big bulging eyes:

To find you there, floating, was quite a surprise.

The little ones home were terribly sad:

In poems and drawings they mourned what they had.

They called up their grandma to tell her you died,

Then sat in a corner and quietly cried.

Flushed down the toilet, with all of us there,

You took along with you the children’s despair,

For that afternoon, coming out of their fog,

They cheerfully asked us: “can we get a dog?”

A One-sentence Story #1

...or musings of Universal She...

On the eve of her fortieth birthday, after fighting a relentless, losing battle with her wrinkles for the best part of her twenties -- and all of her thirties -- She tucked herself in bed with a sigh of relief, comforted by the notion that, at last, her age had finally caught up with her face.

Friday Night Poem #2

To all my writer friends out there.

Happy Weekend!

Writer’s Block

By Núria Coe

Quick! I need some paper,

And a pencil or a pen!

Oh! I hope I can recall

The dream I had just once again.

It was such a great idea

Filled with wit and clever jokes,

I must find my pad of paper

And add it to my notes!

Where’s my laptop when I need it?

This will really tie the plot!

Here’s a pencil! Now where was I?

…

Argh! Curses!...I forgot.

To My Catalan and Spanish Speaking Friends

Check out this fantastic blog on all things related to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey.
It is amazing how, after so many years, this work of art is still inspiring us in so many ways.

The articles are insightful and educational, and I find I am a much better writer because of them.

http://detroiaaitaca.wordpress.com/

("from Troy to Itaca")

Let me know what you think! :)

Friday Night Poem #1

...just because.

Enjoy!

Pillows

By Núria Coe

(inspired by Margaret MacLean’s “Pillows” clay composition)

A mother’s quiet prayer for her fussy baby’s sleep.

A father’s weighty worries, his forehead creased so deep.

A new bride’s secret hopes, and her new fears all the same.

A best friend’s broken promise burning deep a guilty shame.

A taxman’s neat additions.

A teacher’s lessons planned.

A writer’s shock to learn that his books have all been banned.

A little girl’s new wish list her Tooth-Fairy-money brings.

An immigrant’s confusion with so many brand-new things.

A neighbor’s waking startle in the middle of the night.

A teen’s forbidden fantasy.

A dying spirit’s flight.

The quiet imprint on their pillows, unassuming and sincere,

Tell the universe, and no one: they were real, and they were here.

The Great Critique! #SCBWIWWA

What an awesome evening. I spent it with five other aspiring authors and the one and only Janet Lee Carey, talented published author and all-around wonderful human being.

The event is called The Great Critique, and it takes place once a year, here at the Western Washington branch of SCBWI. Each of us were given 15 minutes to have our first five pages (kindly) critiqued by all.

Here is the biggest lesson I learned about my novel:

Head-jumping = bad.

Let me explain: point of view is such a tricky thing to get right, because as authors we know everything about the plot, every character, the setting...but when writing, the point of view needs to be respected. For example: you can describe a scene from an omniscient POV, but if you start describing how one of the characters is feeling of perceiving things, then you'd better stick to that person's view of the world.

Here's an excerpt where I fell into the pitfall:

Even though Mr. Yan Olsunn was a quiet, private man, he had taken it upon himself to teach his granddaughter Nara to read, write, and chant.  Nara was going to be only five in the fall, but, come her tenth birthday, she would have to show the rest of their clan that she was a worthy custodian of their story.

[...]

Nara loved her grandpa dearly...

See it? Even though I did not specifically start by saying "I am speaking from Yan Olsunn's POV. by stating what his motivation is to teach Nara I am pretty much taking sides...only to switch mid-scene with how Nara feels about him.

This is one of those things that once you know to look for them they stick out like a sore thumb. I have my work cut-out for tomorrow!

What are your biggest pitfalls? What kinds of writerly pet-peeves get under your skin?

Inspiration from the pros #LASCBWI11

At the last SCBWI conference in Los Angeles I had the privilege of listening to some of the most talented authors of our time share their thoughts and the ins and outs of the trade.

One of the sessions that stayed with me was the one with Donna Jo Napoli, author of the book The Wager. It's about a medieval Italian Don who finds himself having to make a wager with the devil.

(It's a great read. Check it out here.)

She based her session entirely on the question:

"How can we make it worse?"

At first we were a bit dumbfounded. Mrs. Napoli is a sweet lady with cute round glasses sitting on a button little nose. Her voice is clear and high-pitched, and her demeanor is that of someone who just baked a batch of the best cookies and cannot wait to share some with you.

Yet the scenarios that she was able to weave with us were pretty dire situations, most of the time involving the loss of life and limb in the most creative of ways. Every single time something new came to the surface, she beamed and then replied:

"How can we make it worse?"

It was amazing. When everything seemed hopeless, we were still able to make it even worse for our imaginary impromptu protagonists. And the stories got even more interesting.

That was a very powerful lesson. Often as writers we are content to create some tension within a scene but find ourselves stopping short of taking it even further. And the reasons may vary: Are we raising the age of our intended readership by adding a scene that might be too violent or too risqué? Are we afraid to go down that particular path because it evokes painful memories of our own?

Instead of cutting short and going on, we should actually stop and embrace the fact that

a) yes, we can (and should) push boundaries and
b) yes, we WILL know how to artfully approach that issue within the confines of our intended readership and
c) yes, sometimes it is in those painful places within us that we might find the source of our very best writing.

What do you think?

Kill your babies no more!

"Sometimes, you just have to kill your babies" the saying goes. And I cringe every time I hear it. Of course I understand where it comes from and what it is trying to convey, and yes, how its effectiveness as an expression resides mostly on its shock value.

The problem is, it doesn't work. Not for me, anyway.

Here is the thing: If you are trying to get me to chisel away my most preciously crafted sentences to allow the polished diamond of the story to shine through, the last thing you should do is a) call them "babies", b) tell me they're MY babies, and then c) tell me I have to kill them. Seriously?

I have been pondering this for a while and have come with another approach that I think will be a lot more effective:

Our "babies" are our stories. They are borne of the deepest, most vulnerable parts of our being, and yet, as soon as they take their first little steps onto the page they begin to show they have a character of their own.

Like human babies, our stories grow in a messy yet gradual manner, and so their clothes sometimes need mending at the knees and elbows, or downright replacing. And those beautiful sentences that make your heart sing every time you read them (but that otherwise add nothing but word count to your storyline)? Think of them as the golden curls on your baby's little head that have grown so long the child cannot see where it is going anymore. Beautiful and golden yes, but they still have to go.

So next time we're in a critique group or chatting online about a piece of writing you feel needs some heavy editing,  try telling the author to "give it a haircut", "trim its nails", or simply to "change the entire outfit...we're going to the beach, and your baby is dressed in a sequined tutu".

Does that sound fair? Can you come up with another expression that might work better? What do you think?

Holly Cupala's Don't Breathe A Word Online Book B-day Party

...is happening right now! :)
Go stop by and say hi. And have a virtual cookie for me, will ya? :)

2012, here we come!

Resolution #1
Butt in chair

Resolution #2
Butt in chair

Resolution #3
Butt in chair