Winter Solstice

A Reflection on the Winter Solstice,  by Diane Pendola.

Sunrise - space station ATT00089

We are at the threshold of winter.
This is an in-between time, a time when what is stirring to be born is still to become manifest.
The life is still germinating beneath the snow, or kicking in the womb, or agitating our minds.
But our course of action is not yet clear and so we wait a little longer.
Tomorrow the darkness will begin to recede.
Slowly the days will begin to lengthen.
Tonight is the longest night.
But the turn in the season is here.
The Sun is on the ascendancy.
Our hearts stir with hope.

Sending you blessings of the Light!

 

Used with permission by Diane Pendola

From Earthlines, December 2008

 Skyline Harvest Eco-Contemplative Center

Writing the Middle – Like Crossing a Desert

Immigrant Trail  Nevada Desert

Immigrant Trail – Nevada Desert

Sometimes I feel I’m writing across a desert  – that vast stretch between the beginning and ending of a novel.  The only way through is to take it one step at a time.

My Great-Grandmother had to do it literally.  Immigrants on the California Trail would make one last water stop in their covered wagons before leaving the Humboldt Sink where the river fanned out and disappeared into the Nevada desert. Forty miles and several days of waterless, hot parched desert lay ahead and there was no choice but to roll through.  Along the way animals died, prized possessions were jettisoned, despair set in.  Rather like writing through the middle of a story, I’m finding.

It’s humbling to learn that a great story takes more than a great idea. Writers have to craft this passage well so the reader wants to stay with the story.  But it’s also where authors can get stuck in boggy, soggy ground.  Between the beginning and end, there are elements of plot and character development, back stories, turning points, cliff hangers, triumphs, setbacks, reversals, and ever-present conflict and tension.  Add to this, layers of character arc, motivations, subplots, story theme, and . . .  Whew!  It’s why I immerse myself in writing classes, conferences, critique groups, and reading, reading, reading.

When will The Desk be finished?  Well, I’d say I’m about two-thirds across the desert.  Like Beulah the Ox who detected the faintest whiff of water and quickened her pace, I can feel the pieces coming together, but I’ve still many miles to go.  And when I do finally tie it all together, I’ll still have a steep granite mountain range to traverse, called Revisions.

© All materials copyright Shirley DicKard, 2012 – 2013, except as otherwise noted.

Beginnings

Emergence  Utah Petroglyph

Emergence
Utah Petroglyph

I think some beginnings are only recognized in retrospect.   You’ll be amazed at what you’ll be doing, the voice in my head told me.  It’s not even on your radar.  I’d been pondering my up-coming retirement and heard this not once, but many times – usually when meditation had cleared my mind of clutter.

When my sisters visited me in 2008, I read them a short fictional piece I’d written about inheriting the family desk. That was it – one page.  I made a few revisions and put it away.  Later I wrote another short story of an ancient woman obsessed with horrific visions of the future who died holding an acorn to her breast.  In one of those “ah-hah!” leaps, I knew this would be the acorn/oak tree from which the desk would be made.

Family women who wrote on the desk started lining up, starting with my activist Great Grandmother who farmed California’s north central valley after the 1849 Gold Rush, and ending with a present time woman struggling with how to live on a degraded earth. I thought that was it until the “visitation” one night from the future – Amisha, my great-granddaughter.

The mystery held within the family desk currently encompasses three women and the future.  I hope that’s it!  With my ending already in place (see my December 7 post), I have only to cross the desert to bridge the beginning with the ending  (my next post).  As I look back, the beginning of “The Desk” did sneak in under my radar, but now it’s an integral part of my life.  And yes, I am amazed!

© All materials copyright Shirley DicKard, 2012 – 2013, except as otherwise noted.

Endings

5 am at deskI’m often asked when my book will be finished – the novel I’ve been working on for four or five years now. “Who knows?” I shrug and sigh.  It’s become a journey unto itself.

It’s not that I don’t want it to end, for I know the last scene.  My friend Roger Rapp laid it out for me during a dinner conversation a few years ago.  He said John Irving always writes the last paragraph first, then writes toward it as if it were a piece of music he could hear.

Roger, who understood the underlying theme of my story, looked me in the eye and told me what the last paragraph of “The Desk” would be. I remember the goose bumps.  He was absolutely right on.  Roger died suddenly the next month, but his gift of the ending will endure.

 

© All materials copyright Shirley DicKard, 2012 – 2013, except as otherwise noted.