Friday, December 20, 2013

Making Time for The Voices in My Head

My head is a crowded place these days, even more so than usual. I'm one of those weirdos who walk around talking to imaginary people. Most of the time the conversations take place in my brain, although sometimes the words slip out into real life. (Putting your hand to your ear is a great remedy when this happens - people just assume that you're talking on a headset...)

I love the voices in my head. Some would tell you that I'm nuts, which isn't far from the truth, but talking to imaginary folks is one way I work through story lines, "hear" dialogue, and learn about my characters. We find creative ways to kill other imaginary people and then to catch the murderers. Or not. It's the part of the writing process that I enjoy most. So having noise and distraction whirling around my brain are the norm for me.

But lately, it's gotten worse.

I can only blame it on the time of year and how busy we are. My husband is a musician and December is his busiest rehearsing and gigging month by far. Add holiday parties (and several birthday parties) to the mix, family gatherings, and gift shopping and wrapping, and time seems to whip by at supersonic speeds! It's wonderful and I wouldn't trade the time or experiences for anything, but I'll bet you know exactly the kind of joyful exhaustion it brings.

 
All this activity has invaded my already crowded head with its lists, its preparations, its late nights. And it's intruding on my "alone time" with my characters.

You know what? I've found that I miss it, that I actually need that time with my imaginary friends to maintain my sanity. Strange, eh? There's something about talking with fictional people that's soothing. For some reason, they're a balance to the season's joyful exhaustion. I feel more rested if I take time to listen to them, and I'm probably a nicer person overall if I've had a chance to chat with my imaginary friends.

This year's holiday season will soon draw to a close and I'm looking forward to getting back into my less crowded head and letting my characters have more space. And next year, I'll do a better job of making time for me and my imaginary friends. So, how do you cope with the season's busy-ness?


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Tuesday, December 3, 2013

The Power of Storytelling

Words hold such power. Think about it. A single word, a phrase. They have the ability to evoke or change emotion, to transport us, to entirely alter our perceptions. But there's something special about the spoken word that leverages the power of story. A good story when told by a talented speaker captivates. It can move us as almost nothing else can.

My brothers and I were lucky to have parents who read to us and quite happily, to others. I still remember my mom reading Where the Red Fern Grows to her elementary school classes. Do you know the book? It's about a country boy named Billy and his coonhounds, Ann and Old Dan. Reading this story was a ritual for my mother as the school year drew to a close, and one she and her students loved equally. She was a music teacher and has a beautiful alto voice. 


The kids would sit and listen for part of each music class, perfectly still as the story progressed day after day, until my mom would break down in tears and be unable to finish. (If you've read Where the Red Fern Grows, you'll know exactly the point in the book I'm talking about.) The kids would be in tears, too, but there was always one student who would pick up that book and bravely carry on, letting my mother weep with the rest of the students.

 
I'd forgotten these memories and how powerful verbal storytelling is until I spoke to several classes of junior high kids a few weeks ago. The librarian invited me to talk about the writing process, from idea generation all the way through to book production and marketing. Some students were really interested and asked thoughtful and sometimes clever questions. Others goofed off. Some slept. Most were enthusiastic when talking about their favorite book or movie.

They were typical teenagers in full hormonal bloom, and fifty minutes was far too long a time to expect them to sit still. So when the first class erupted into outright fidget mode, I asked if they'd like to hear me read from my books. They provided a loudly unanimous, "Yes, Mrs. Woods!".

Cool. Very cool (even if Mrs. Woods is my mother). But then terror struck and I wondered whether this was such a smart thing: is there any tougher audience than a group of restless and bored 12 and 13 year olds?

You know the amazing thing? All fidgeting ceased as soon as I started to read. The kids leaned forward and paid attention. Those who were asleep even woke up. I'd like to think it was the quality of my story or the entrancing lilt of my voice that captivated them, but I think the reason is far more basic.

There's something primal in story time. Something that connects all of us to each other and to a wider experience. Hearing a story takes us back to the days of triumphant hunting scenes painted on cave walls, or to the Middle Ages when troubadours traveled from village to village singing the news and telling stories of heroism and romance through song. Why are stories so powerful?

Storytelling engages both sides of the brain, the intensely logical left side for dealing with language and comprehension, and the creative right side for processing metaphor and 'seeing' the story. But they also affect the chemistry of the brain. Paul Zak, director of the Center for Neuroeconomic Studies, has researched the way that people respond to stories, trying to understand the power of their impact. He found that even the simplest story can trigger the release of cortisol - a hormone that causes the 'fight or flight' response - or the release of the love hormone, oxycotin.

The meaning of all this? There's powerful, heady stuff in storytelling.

While these effects occur for stories in both written and verbal form, there's something unique about a story shared through the voice. I've toyed with the idea of recording my books, and have dipped in and out of Stephen Woodfin's blog series on Venture Galleries regarding how to create audiobooks. But after my experience with the junior high kids and being reminded of the power of the spoken story, I'll be going back to re-read his advice, taking it a little more seriously this time.
http://venturegalleries.com/author/gaelynnwoods/


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Tuesday, November 19, 2013

What Vincent van Gogh Taught Me About Plagiarism

Self Portrait with Felt Hat
Have you ever heard a comment that stopped you in your tracks? I recently asked an author friend what she was reading. She replied that she doesn't read when writing or editing for fear she'll plagiarize someone.

That stumped me.

For me, reading is akin to breathing - a physical necessity. I read all the time and usually have several books in play at once. I simply hadn't considered the possibility that because I read while editing or writing that someone else's work might end up in one of my books.


The Chambers Dictionary, New Ninth Edition, defines 'plagiarize' as: "to steal ideas or writings from another person and present them as one's own."


My friend's comment hung in the back of my mind. It worried me a bit until my husband and I spent the better part of a day in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. That was the first time I realized how much effort Vincent, arguably one of the finest artists in history, put into copying other people's art.

I adore Van Gogh's work. It's simultaneously soothing and uplifting to me. But Vincent van Gogh was a plagiarist. A blatant copyist. And you know what? That makes me respect him all the more.

Many people think Vincent was an out and out nutter (thanks to the whole ear incident and a few other odd events), but if there's one thing that Van Gogh understood, it was that he had much to learn as an artist.

The Courtesan (after Eisen)
He was mostly self-taught and used the works of painters he admired to explore their techniques, and eventually, to develop his own. Vincent greatly admired Jean-Francios Millet's style and copied at least 21 of Millet's paintings, adding his own influence through the use of color. He dabbled in the pointillist style of painting developed by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac and made outright copies of Japanese prints by Hiroshige. All in the aid of furthering his own abilities, of developing his own style.

We treasure these copies, these attempts to imitate someone else's work just as much as we treasure Van Gogh's originals, such as Starry Night, The Potato Eaters, and the Sunflowers paintings. Vincent's copies are attributed as being 'after' a particular painter to credit the original artist. There is no doubt that Van Gogh was using the work of someone he admired to help develop his art rather than trying to pass the works off as his own.

But now we come to writers.

Hear me clearly: am I saying that plagiarism as an author is a good thing?

Absolutely not.

What am I saying? That reading the works of people I admire is crucial to how I develop my style, my technique, my ability to pace a plot, to grow a character, to write believable dialogue, to create stories that capture the imagination.

Peasant Woman Binding Sheaves (after Millet)
This is no different than a musician who listens to other musicians and hears and modifies a particular riff. Robert Johnson, the famous bluesman, recorded modified versions of several existing recordings such as Skip James' 22-20 Blues and Devil Got My Woman, changing them so much that they became his own. These in turn influenced groups such as the Rolling Stones, who further evolved this original blues style into the gritty rock 'n' roll sound they're famous for today.


The Lennie Tristano method of teaching jazz focused on singing solos by Lester Young and other jazz greats, note for note. Not so they could be reproduced note for note, but rather so the musician incorporated the style, the feeling of those tunes into their own music, and then used improvisation to make the music their own. 

While I'm editing, I deliberately read books by authors whose writing captivates me. Rather than being fearful that I'll plagiarize them, I'm hopeful that the qualities about their writing that I so admire will seep into my brain and influence how I write, not necessarily what I write.
Skull with Burning Cigarette

I'm grateful for my friend's comment about her fear of plagiarizing someone else's work. I'm equally grateful that we were in Amsterdam at the Van Gogh Museum not long after. Vincent taught me that studying the works of those we consider great, in an honest attempt to improve ourselves, can only help us mature, regardless of our art.

What about you? Do you find reading a source of inspiration while you write or edit, or is it a distraction?


photos taken by Gae-Lynn Woods at the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Calf Weaning as Writing Inspiration

They say you should write what you know, and right now, I know about decibels. This time of year, I wonder if raising cows is worth the hassle.

Newborns look so innocent
It’s weaning season, which means it’s noisy on the ranch. A lot of farmers calve in the winter and then wean in the summer. We plan our calving (to the extent that we can control the amorous advances of our 2,000 pound bull) for spring. This gives the mothers access to fresh, nutritious grass to help them rebuild their strength after being pregnant through the winter, and also ensures the calves can start grazing as soon as possible. Early grazing helps the calves put on weight because they have access to both milk and grass.

It’s hugely entertaining to watch calves go from wobbly newborns to curious youngsters through the summer. During that time, they’re grazing, nursing, and learning to eat the little bit of feed we give them through those normally green months. They’re also gaining some independence, forming cliques, and venturing away from the herd to graze with their ‘friends’. By the time autumn rolls around, the calves are about six months old and it’s time to stop them from nursing so their mothers can put on weight for the winter and get ready to deliver the next batch of calves. 



Unhappy bull calf...
Despite the calves’ pretensions of independence, they’re still babies at six months old. And like human babies, they bawl for their mothers as soon as they’re separated. The cows add to the noise because their udders are full of milk, but there are no calves around to drink it. So, for a few days, it’s a moo chorus around here, night and day. (Secretly, the cows must heave a sigh of relief when the calves are weaned. It’s hard work nursing a 500 pound baby, and for all the belly-aching, I think the mommas are happy to see the babies weaned.)

Thankfully, our nearest neighbors are about a quarter of a mile away, so it’s only us who lose sleep for these few days. Ear plugs are some help, but it’s amazing how much noise one six month old calf can make, much less a whole herd of them. We’ll give them six weeks to put on some weight, then it’s off to the sale barn they go, to repay some of the investment we’ve made in them and the ranch.

So right now, weaning is what I know. Will I be able to work the experience into a
story? I think so. Whether it’s a neighbor who goes nuts over the noise, a rustler who takes advantage of the chaos to steal some cows, or a calf stampede, yes, I’ll find a use for weaning. And given that I write crime novels, a fictional someone will probably die in the process. Time to find a victim…

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Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Haunted House for Sale. Any Takers?

Would you live in a haunted house? It's a relevant question, and not just because we're in October, the month of all things spooky and ghoulish. The question is relevant because the house where one of the most famous murders in East Texas took place went up for sale recently.

Built in 1989, the house is almost six thousand square feet and sits on on twelve acres of land. Four bedrooms, five bathrooms, and a garage that weighs in at over one thousand square feet. (A big garage is handy for parking and storage. And in this case, it plays an important role in the story.)

Nice digs, all in all. In a prime location just outside of Carthage, which was voted the "nicest town in Texas" not all that long ago. And yours for a mere $699,000.

Ghost included.

Or maybe not. 

You decide.

The murder in question is that of Marjorie Nugent. You might've heard of her, or perhaps of her killer, Bernie Tiede. Or maybe you've seen the 2012 movie BERNIE that starred Jack Black as Bernie and Shirley MacLaine as Mrs. Nugent. Matthew McConaughey played Danny Buck Davidson, our local District attorney. A good flick. But just in case you didn't see the movie or hear about the murder, I'll give you a quick rundown.

By all accounts, Marjorie Nugent was an unpleasant woman who had few friends and whose relationships with her family were strained. Kind, gentle Bernie Tiede (who has a beautiful singing voice and is beloved by many in the community) befriended her after her wealthy husband passed on.

To make a long story short, Bernie quit his job at a local funeral home and became Mrs. Nugent's companion; she gave him power of attorney over her assets and he spent freely, but mostly on other people; her idiosyncrasies and rudeness annoyed him mightily and one day he shot her in the back out in that great big garage.

There you have it. A good old murder out in the garage where the blood can be washed away, as if nothing ever happened. But after the murder, the plot thickens. You see, Bernie had access to a small airplane and knew how to fly it. He could've taken her body up in the plane and dumped it over an isolated forest for the hogs, or even dropped it into a lake where chances were slim that it would be found. But instead, Bernie stuffed Mrs. Nugent's body in her spare freezer (kept in the garage) and there it remained. While Bernie continued to spend and lie about why Mrs. Nugent never answered the phone.

For nine months.

Until Nugent's financial planner convinced the local authorities that something bad might've happened to her.

Seems it did.

They loaded the freezer onto a flatbed truck, plugged it into a generator, and took her to Dallas to be thawed and autopsied. Which wasn't really necessary because Bernie confessed. To the shooting and to keeping her in the freezer. Many of the locals wanted Bernie to go free and even offered to post bail for him, but Danny Buck Davidson got a jury down in San Augustine to convict Bernie, and he's spending time in the state penitentiary.

Now for the question of haunting. What exactly makes a house haunted? Houses have lives, they have character. But do they have memories? I think they do, perhaps only as an echo of the lives lived, and perhaps lost, there. If a violent act that results in death is a prerequisite to haunting, the Nugent house surely qualifies. If the 'mean old woman' syndrome is necessary, Mrs. Nugent ticks that box. Someone lives in the house now and I'm not sure why they're selling. Could it be because Marjorie Nugent's unhappy spirit still roams the place, opening a door here, bringing a chill breeze there?

http://venturegalleries.com/author/gaelynnwoods/
If you had the $699,000 price tag, would you live in a house where someone was murdered? Where their body remained for almost a year after they were killed? Or would you pass on by, leaving the house and its memories (and perhaps its ghost), for someone else to deal with?

(For more on the movie BERNIE, see this earlier blog post.)


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