The Gatekeepers

 

Notice, I left the gate open.

I was rewriting old novels, editing. I don’t know if they’re real novels or practice ones, so far, they haven’t caught an agent's attention. Some say it’s harder to get an agent than it is to write the book in the first place, or even to get a publisher. But folks, if you are a writer, remember most of the books that make it have been rejected numerous times, even Harry Potter. Can you imagine those agents who rejected Harry Potter crying in their soup nightly because they missed it? Fifteen percent of a zillion bucks is what? Probably a billion.

About 20 years ago, when we lived in California, I took a workshop from a Screenplay agent in LA. At the time, my daughter and I were toying with a script. That agent, with her young daughter standing beside her the entire talk, said that agents invite a bunch of creative writing students to go through the slush pile. (Their stack of unsolicited manuscripts). First, they set them all in a room, throw in a pizza and packet of rejection slips, and lock the door.

That’s it.

I suspect it’s about the same with books. Maybe it has changed since publishers have more competition now that many authors are self-publishing their books and Indie publishers have best-sellers. I have the problem of thinking that few people want to spend the money on books with price tags publishers demand, but readers of Harry Potter must have forked out that money when the Harry Potter books were first released. And hey, who doesn’t want to believe in magic?

The success of JK Rowling and Harry Potter are not to be tampered with.

I don’t know why I began this blog as I did. I guess I am following my own advice to my grandson. Just begin writing, I told him, and see where it takes you.

He came up with a brilliant idea but doesn’t know how to implement it. He had compared what he calls “Culture,” meaning the youth of today, which includes artists, furies, Trans, and computer game creators, with religion. He says both wanted to give the people hope, and while religion says you can have it, you can find God, peace, salvation, all of those, he says Culture wants the same, but they believe it’s impossible.

That was so sad, a defeatist attitude, to want to express yourself only to believe you will never be successful at it.

That is the legacy we have given our young people.

He says he wants to give people HOPE.

That’s what I want too.

When I was editing those novels, and at home discussing theme, plot, the deciding moment, and the old saying that without conflict you have no story, I thought, I need to write a new book maybe it will hit the refresh button on my brain.

What if I, instead of following the convention that you must put your protagonist through hell, write a book where things work out? Yeah, yeah, I know, one must struggle first before events work out. But isn’t hope what we want? Don’t we want to believe that good is waiting for us—that life will get better?  And what about attitude and the belief that much is accomplished with a glad heart? Did we lose sight of those?

Is that boring? Think of the book Chicken Soup for the Soul. It stayed on the Best Seller List for 4 years.  What about Robert Fulghum's book, Everything I Know I Learned in Kindergarten which stayed on the New York Times Best Seller list for two years. And I loved the recent book Theo of Golden, basically uplifting—not that people didn’t have troubles, or were sad, but it was enchanting. You think people don’t want good news?

Every time I open my computer, it spits something depressing at me.  I’m tired of the Government's rabble. I’m tired bitching, snipping, and arguing. I want something that shows the goodness in people.

 

 

Mummerings

 

 

Murmuration of Starlings

 

As I searched the internet for a picture of a murmuration of starlings (coordinated flight--scroll to the bottom to see more) I wondered why I had not taken a picture of a group I saw a couple of mornings ago as I sat beside an open field drinking a cup of hot mocha.

I watched, not thousands, as sometimes happens, but hundreds of starlings swirling in the sky, weaving in and out, dancing in harmony, and wondered how in the world they could do it. How could they fly so fast and precisely without running into each other? They must have been wearing little radio headsets.

They would do their dance, then drop all together into the field and disappear into the grasses where I couldn't see them, then, as though on cue, swoop up and dance again, only to drop again a few moments later. I hear this is a predator escape behavior, but from my vantage point, they seemed to be having a happy time.

Could we escape predators with such joy?

Jen Scenario wrote:

"Have you ever had an aha moment that completely blew yer mind? "Don't worry, be happy! Yes! I can choose to place my attention on the joyous instead of the heinous!... I'm gonna hug the shit out of everyone I see!"

Jen, you are masterful in reminding me to live in the now and find a happy place. Yes, I'm a spiritual being here to have a physical experience, although perhaps that physical part tells us to do something.

Be happy and get the job done. That's the challenge.

We were born into a physical body with hands to clean up messes and a voice to tell the young ones to be vigilant.

Many of us have felt in bondage for many years. First, the COVID-19 lockdown separated us from our social group, which helped solidify our belief systems without a conversation with the other side. Many of us lost jobs, thus threatening our security; our kids weren't going to school, graduation from high school wasn't the joyous event it was for us, and newly birthed babies were sometimes removed from their mothers as a health precaution. And the possibility of death was staring us in the face.

It’s no wonder we went a little crazy.

Prolonged stress does that to people.

And then came the arguing, name-calling, lies, and innuendoes that have been a normal part of the media. And we listened—after all, our brains were already fried.

I, for one, felt beaten down. And I questioned the teachings I have endeavored to incorporate into my being for years.

That teaching is that we are masterful creators here to create our lives, not to be victims of circumstances.

Didn't we all come here as exuberant little spark plugs ready for an adventure?

We know the earth will go on without us—it has done so for 4 billion years, but the plants, animals, and people living right now are important to me. Future generations are vital to me. Native Americans believed in planning for seven generations ahead. I've heard that post-menopausal women, while no longer reproducing (what dear old biologists and misogynists told us was our purpose), now we are seeing that the older women, specifically, are here to see that their progeny continues. 

For women who think broadly, progeny extends to all life.

Ancient mythology told us that males and females once rolled about in ecstasy, but the controllers, seeing how powerful they were together, split them apart. (People who are talking about soulmates are talking about that phenomenon. They are seeking their other half.) Because we are separated, we have had a war of the sexes ever since, making both male and female weaker and the controllers more powerful. (Why do controllers try to keep women down?)

Richard Bach, one of my favorite authors, wrote," If you wonder if your mission in life is over, and you're alive, it isn't."

I'm alive.

And I wonder where I fit into this scenario. The famed Naturalist Jane Goodall said that we all affect the earth each day we walk on it. With Douglas Abrams as her interviewer, Jane Goodall wrote a book titled HOPE. In reading it, I wonder how to spread hope.

Jane Goodall calls herself a naturalist.  A naturalist, Jane says, "looks for the wonder of nature—she listens to the voice of nature and learns from nature as she tries to understand it. Meanwhile, scientists are more focused on facts and the desire to qualify. How is it adaptive? How does it contribute to the survival of the species? As a naturalist, you need empathy, intuition, and love. You've got to be prepared to look at the murmuration* of starlings and be filled with awe at the amazing agility of these birds. How do they fly in a flock of thousands without touching at all?"

I do not have the notoriety of Jane Goodall nor the interviewer's skill of Douglas Abrams. However, I am persistent in this struggle for survival. And Goodall emphasizes that HOPE is a survival mechanism.

HOPE has kept us alive for 300,000 years. "HOPE," says Goodall, "is like a bright star at the end of a dark tunnel. We should not wait for it to come to us. We have to go get it."

It is spring, or almost so. Peaceful spring. I see buds on the trees, and the Cameo flowering quince bush shows its coral-colored buds; if HOPE is withering, we can water it if that's what it needs. Yet HOPE is something that lives inside of us. It's a belief, an emotion—even animals have hope. For example, when your dog sits expectantly for you to get the leash, hope is paired with the belief that you will take him for a walk. The cat hopes you will open the door to let him out. HOPE is also like our heart or brain, organs that will die without the necessary chemicals.

HOPE needs to know we care for it. HOPE needs to know that we will keep it alive. Nelson Mandela couldn't take any action when he was in prison, but he kept hope in his heart. He knew he had a support system out in the world helping him. If we have our hands tired, we need others who don't.

When we have our voices silenced, such as reprisals for speaking out, when we have books banned, when we have the media owned and controlled, we need the free ones to speak. We need those with a voice to rise and proclaim loudly, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore."

Almost every citizen has good reason for suing the highest leaders in the land for constitutional abuse, emotional abuse, possibly voter fraud, overstepping Presidential privilege, changing laws to benefit the leaders personally (like threatening to abolish the two-term Presidential law) for rounding up our people who came here seeking a better life, for frightening children that they might be separated from their parents, for voting refusal without proof of any wrongdoing, possibly for buying an election, for interfering with physician-patient confidentiality. I'm sure you can think of many others.

Geesh, look at how that would help the people if they pulled wealth from the billionaires and gave it to the people—we could pay off our mortgages, we could afford a larger apartment, we could pay for our kids’ education, we could care for our elders if they need special care. We could afford eggs.

Power and Money are at the bottom of the jar, like a banana a little monkey will grab and won't let go of, even when it means he will get caught.

We are the people. Let's get our act together.

 

*Murmuration: (Named because often you can hear the murmurs of wings before you see the birds.) The magic number is seven: Each bird keeps tabs on its seven closest neighbors and ignores all else. Considering all these little groups of seven touch on other individuals and groups of seven, twists and turns quickly spread. And from that, a whole murmuration moves. From the journal PLOS Computational Biology, January 2013.

The Three Things in Control

• An attraction zone: "You will move toward the next guy."
• A repulsion zone: "You don't fly into his lane. Otherwise, you both fall."
• Angular alignment: "You need to follow your neighbor's direction."

(And these birds can process information faster than we can.)

 

 

 

Oracles of the Day

 

“One of the hardest things to make a child understand is, that down underneath your feet, if you go far enough, you come to blue sky and stars again; that there really is no “down” for the world, but only in every direction an “up.” And that this is an all-embracing truth.”

…It is also what “we grown children find it hardest to realize, too.”—Anne Gilchrist

 

Occasionally, I randomly open a book to see what it offers for the day. After the above I found this morning, I opened Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down the Bones, (1986) page 48 (30th Anniversary Edition), and this spoke to me.

“A writer must say yes to life, to all of life, the water glasses, the Kemp’s half and half, the ketchup on the counter. It is not a writer’s task to say, “It is dumb to live in a small town or to eat in a café’ when you can eat macrobiotics at home.”

Our task is to say a holy yes to the real things of our life as they exist—the absolute truth of who we are—several pounds overweight, the gray, cold street outside, the Christmas tinsel in the showcase, the Jewish writer in the orange booth across from her blond friend who has black children. We must become writers who accept things as they are, come to love the details, and step forward with a yes on our lips so there can be no more noes in the world, noes that invalidate life and stop those details from becoming.”—Natalie Goldberg.

At first I wasn't going to blog this week--declare Tuesday a day of mourning, but then I wrote my apologies, and now I can't help myself--well, I could, but I don't want to. In times of trouble, I turn to my computer and books for solace. I am passing on what I found this morning for the artists out there (all of you are) and those suffering for what they fear to come.

Before my last post, titled “I Apologize,” I began writing about writing and on being an artist, then decided it wasn’t addressing what I felt was important. I’ve changed my mind. Becoming an artist is important.

 Once, a prominent psychiatrist told me that writing is self-aggrandizement.

What an idiot.

I don’t care how many credentials he had, he still missed the point, traumatized me, and besmirched all literature.

If you have decided that you are imposing your great wisdom on someone, then you might be accused of aggrandizement, but if you want to become an artist—that’s a different story. (The psychiatrist disagreed with the writer of a book I was reading.)

An artist wants to express himself, which takes many forms—artistry is creative expression.

Art is where your heart is.

And HOPE is right beside it. We have to believe there is hope for the future. We have to HOPE that we aren’t all tied up in Plato’s dark cave, only seeing shadows, not the real things.

A scientist HOPES his theory is correct. A singer HOPES her audience likes her song. A songwriter, HOPES his lyrics ring true.

Every artist who sits down to his work begins the hero’s journey. Every time. Over and over. He leaves his comfortable ground to set out, not knowing what pitfalls will befall him. He or she HOPES they live to reach their destination, and they HOPE they have something to offer the tribe. 

The writer-artist doesn’t write to impart wisdom; he writes to find himself, and through that self-discovery, he HOPES to motivate others to do the same.

Who was it, Issac Asimov, who said “I write to find out what I am thinking?” Maybe it was Joan Didion who wrote a book with that title.

That is something my friend, the psychiatrist, did not understand, for if you follow Natalie Goldberg’s way of thinking that writing is a therapeutic experience, it might put him out of business.

Then there is old procrastination (Steven Pressfield calls it resistance) in finding something else to do besides THE WORK. THE WORK (your artistry) is scary, that’s the reason we put it off.

Hemingway said writing was opening a vein.

Liz Gilbert said to enjoy your creativity.

I enjoy writing. While writing, I am in the flow, and time is a no-thing. My demons aren’t as scary to me as Hemingway’s was to him. Or maybe he thought one must suffer for their craft. Published writers have an additional problem; they want to match or exceed their earliest work, which burdens them.

Steven Pressfield found that once he declared himself a writer (found his calling) and he sat down at the typewriter, typed out a few pages he later threw away—he was freed.  A few minutes later he was at the sink washing 10 days of stacked up dishes—and humming.

Suffering comes in the gap between where you are and where you want to be.

While hunting for a different picture I had recently placed in my files, I found this one. I hope that bull didn't land on his once upon a time rider.

P.S. Hey, it looks like I got my follow button back. How about a follow?