Finding your Story

My journey as a writer continues to open up in front of me like a kalidescope.  Just when I think I'm seeing the most beautiful display of color, I turn the dial a smidge and an entirely different reality is before me.

My writing is the same, in the sense that I've studied my craft, revised my work and I feel it's the most wonderful story.  Then I have a new lesson that changes what I've written.  Making the dialog real, characters more fully developed, and the plot stronger.

In workshops, books about writing, SCBWI conferences, and critique groups certain catch phrases are thrown around. 

Show Don't Tell

 

Voice

 

Tell Your Story

 

 

There is something very frustrating about the way I learn.  I can't just see these words and make the changes.  I have to live the words for them to actually take root in my brain.  (Sorry mom, it's always been like this for me.) 

 

 

You would think that working on a novel for a few years would be enough to know that you're telling your story? (duh.)   I'm from the thick headed school of learning, so it takes more than this for me to get these messages. 

 

My YA contemporary fiction piece began as a series of short stories that I pieced together.  It became a character driven story about friendship.  I continued to revise and work on the plot line of the story.  It needed something more to make it work.  I added the perfect event and the story fell in line on my white board.

 

I received critiques at conferences.  Loving my characters, voice, humor but questioned the plot.  I would go home and cross reference my plot line. Making adjustments.

 

 

My "Ahhhh Haaa Moment" was Coming

 



At the SCBWI Summer Conference 2013, I was looking forward to my critique with a well known agent.  When I left the critique, I felt sick.  She told me my story was not focused on the correct plot point.  It wasn't working.  In the back of my head I knew she was right.  But, I couldn't hear it over the praise I had been recieving.

 

I submitted the same piece at the AZ regional conference, three months later.  This time the agent who critiqued it, was the same that I was assigned to "shadow" all day, and she repeated exactly what the one in LA said.  I was fortunate to be sitting with this agent all day, and she was kind enough to share her expertise with me.  (I should say, this agent isn't exactly known for sugar coating things- making for a very tough day)  I was so thankful for this opportunity- it was without a doubt a turning point for me.

 

My funny, character driven story of friendship was simply my time to get to know my characters.  Everything that I had written up to this point was simply an exercise in character development.

Character Driven, each one has their own story.

 

The light-hearted, comedic, totally commercial writer that I thought I was, no longer existed.  I was introduced to my story that day.

 

What I forgot to mention above was what the event was that I added to my story.  It is personal. It is reality based.  When I was in high school two students, athletes, popular boys walked out onto the ice of Lake Michigan and drown.  They were caught under the ice until spring.  This changed everything at our school, in our small town, and the lives of everyone at my school was touched by this tragic accident.



Huffington Post published amazing pictures of the ice on Lake Michigan, like the scene that attracted the two boys to explore many years ago.

 

 

All these years later, I hadn't given too much thought about the actual event.  When I was creating teenage characters and events for my book it seemed like a good climax.  However, I added this accident without actually revisiting those feelings from so many years ago.

I'm writing fiction, not non-fiction so exact details weren't necessary. (Right?)

 

When both agents told me my story was based on these boys and how it affected the characters around them.  My story was born.  This story has been in me all along.

 

It hasn't been an easy process for me.  Somedays I sit with memories and I don't write a single word. On days like this,  I'm at best able to record an emotion or feeling.  Other days I create the story for my characters. The next day, I might change it all.  But, EVERYDAY I feel the weight of this story in my heart and in the pit of my stomach.

 

The writing isn't easy

 

The writing isn't fun

 

The writing is important, like breathing.

 

 

 

When it's all said and done, I hope my story makes it into the hands of a teen who's feeling the loss of a classmate, boyfriend or best friend. 

 

 

 

 





The Desert Picks you

In 1981 my mom was transferred to Phoenix Arizona.

It took some time for desert vegetation to grow on me.

Outdoor lockers, walking to school in 100+ degree heat, and every house had a swimming pool.  This was my first glimpse of desert life.                                 I quickly scampered back to Michigan, to my old school, the one with my friends and indoor lockers, where I could continue to hide my lack of swimming abilities, disguised during the months of snow.
 

Fast Forward.  I have been living in Arizona since 1985.  It wasn't love at first sight.  I think, at best it's a love-hate relationship. 

The mountains that surround the Valley of the Sun change colors and shape based on the time of day and season, providing some of the most amazing, burning sunsets you'll ever encounter.  You should know, to drive anywhere, you have to go through those shape shifting mountains.  For people like me who are faint of heart, and worry about falling off the edge of a twisty mountain road to their fiery death, this is a problem.  I'm essentially trapped in the Valley of the Sun, which sounds like paradise, poor girl.

Sunsets san Snow....keeps me happy

Snakes, lizards, scorpians, tarantulas, giant poisenous frogs, gila monsters, owls, vultures, bobcats, javelinas, coyotes and mountain lions.  Yes, mountain lions.  All are alive and well in Arizona.  I would love to take a naturalist's view on this wildlife, they were here first, and we can all live together in peace.  VETO, I've had personal experience with ALL the creatures listed.  Yes, three encounters with mountain lions.  I will tell you, a lion that is not behind a zoo wall is never a comforting experience.

Gila  Monster, appropriately named.  I've had the "lucky" opportunity to meet one.

Three up close and personal experiences with a mountain lion.

The vegetation takes time to get used to.  Quickly replace lush green lawns with desertscape, that is the environmentally correct choice in the desert.  Rocks of all colors are available to adorn your yard.  Cacti is the shrub of choice. If you are ever lucky enough to have over 15 mature mesquite trees in your yard, you will understand the pain of "many seasons of crap," that fall from these trees.  Not to mention, the pods will attract small animals, which attract larger animals and you too can witness the circle of life- JOY

A whole new skill set needed for yardwork.  How to weed?

These Prickly Pear paddles are sold in the produce section at the grocery store.

Back to school in August.  This means inside recess for over the first month as temperatures max out at 120 degrees. Parents melt outside in the pick-up line waiting for their children to be released at the hottest part of the day.  Plus, the irony of summer colds due to the confined children.

True, you can bake cookies on your dashboard in your car.

It's also important to illustrate something I learned while in college.  Anyone who has/had a parking pass to lot 59 at ASU will appreciate this piece of information.  Your Keds will melt straight through and the bottoms of your feet will blister as you walk across this enormous parking lot of bubbling, molten tar.

Living in the Mohave desert has been a challenge. Somewhat different than those who experience months of shoveling snow to get to your car.  We too, have learned to co-exist with our extreme temperatures. 

I now know to seek shade in parking lots.  How important air conditioning is.  Sunscreen is not a suggestion.  Taking a cooler with you to the grocery store (five minutes from your house,) is necessary if you're buying ice cream.  Never pull off the road during a flash flood or a haboob.  Hydrate, hydrate and hydrate. Don't buy chocolate from May-September.  All outdoor activities in warm month's happen before 8:00a.m. or after 6:00p.m.

Swimming pools are a must have (even if you don't swim.)  Bringing your body temperature down, during the summer, is serious business. To do so, requires a quick dip into the water a number of times each day.  Bugging out to SoCal each summer is what Zonies do.

With the above information, it's clear that no one would choose to live here.  Where temperatures can melt the shoes you wear, crazy prehistoric looking animals wait to eat you, and no one is native here. (Correction... MY daughter is native)  It becomes clear that the desert picks you. 

Arizona Indigenous Creature, quite adaptive to her environment.

I have built a beautiful life in Arizona, one that competes with the majesty of the Grand Canyon.  Laughter filled days with friends and family at spring training, hiking amazing trails, southwest culture, sporting events, vineyards, museums, and every imaginal activity.

Creative Spaces in the Work Place

What goes into a creative space?  How do you decide what to surround yourself with while you work?  I love spending time looking and listening to what my colleagues have in their studios and writing areas.  I'm very rarely surprised when friends or favorite authors/illustrators post pictures of their creative spaces.  They always seem to match the person.  I love that.

Vision Boards, Daughter's Artwork and Odds & Ends

This is not the case with other professionals.  My husband for one, asked me to find artwork for his office featuring lighthouses or the ocean.  I found beautiful pieces, the kind you can hear the waves crashing into the rocks, but not at all what he was looking for.  Then he showed me exactly what he wanted.  The basic human resources poster that reads INITIATIVE, GROWTH,and SPIRIT followed by a less than poignant message.

My husband is not alone.  Having our taxes completed I couldn't help but look around the office at what this beautiful, young accountant selected to surround herself with all day.  Crooked pictures that were too small for the wall, too far away to tell what the subject was.  Diplomas displayed, Chamber of Commerce Certificates framed, and more of the same posters my husband has.

You've Got A Friend in Me

It hit me that creative people gain their inspiration from the world around us.  We need to tap into those feelings on days when the juices are not running freely.  Compared to my accountant who will be able to calculate, tabulate, compute and amortize on anyday with or without creativity.

Bits and Pieces of my life

Writers love paper stores, journals, books and you can bet we have our favorite pens that we prefer to use.  My husband thinks I'm nuts and reminds me of the drawer full of pens he has brought home from various seminars and conferences.  Yellow lined paper is what he supplies me with.  I'm thankful for freebies!  I have a business side to me and recognize good value. ( These savings affords me a trip to the bookstore or Papyrus.)

My space includes: great light, books, inspirartional art, candles, photos, essential oils, music, fun toys, and an endless-changing list of items that evoke emotions.

Books, Books, Books and more Books!

Bring on more Happiness!

I have an entire wall covered with dry erase boards.  This was brought about by demand.  Endless plotting with pages scattered across my floor wasn't the most convenient method.  Not to mention,  two furry assistants who like to lay, roll and scamper literally in the middle of my plotline.

To follow plot, subplots and to organize my chapters into a story.

My work space is not much different than the rest of my life.  I try to surround myself with beauty and inspiration.  The material items that I place in my studio or my home are second to what I hold most dear: my family and friends.  The experiences and memories that unfold each day I respect and give thanks to.  Without them, there are no Lorri's Stories to tell.

To be part of a Masterpiece

Life moves fast and I never manage to accomplish all of the tasks that are on my 'to do' lists.  Over the years I have become more proficient, thoughtful and skilled in the areas that I volunteer.  I'm thankful for the opportunity to share my time.

I'm involved with our elementary school's Art Masterpiece program.  Each year I look at the schedule and what's coming up for these sweet children,  I can barely stand it.



Water color with Vincent VanGogh

 



There is something to be said about introducing the Great Masters to children and teaching them about the art surrounding them.  Hearing them say, "I know that painting,"  or "We have that one at home,"  begins the connection to the artist, their life and the piece we are discussing.



First Grade Water Lillies

More than once I've started the class asking, "Is this Art?"  From calligraphy, architecture, printmaking to painting we find beauty.  The different media's range from pastels, watercolors, soap, ink and aluminum foil. 

Mistakes happen, and are sometimes important.  They can change the piece you're working on or they can teach you what not to do next time.

 

Winged Victory Sculptures (Batman Style)

African Masks

 

Doing Art with Kids is Awesome 





Tiny lights fill up the room.  Our art project correlates to the specific piece the children are learning, which leads to possibilites that come uninhibited at this age.  Watching, teaching, stretching and shaping these children fills me up.  If I were to have a drug of choice I would take this one.





Clothespin Kachina Dolls

 



We have created Sistine Chapel Pieces-Michelangelo style, Carved our own Wings of Victory from a bar of Ivory Soap, Print Making The Great Wave of Kanagawa, Twisting and Shaping aluminum foil into our own Thinkers and even created a blueprint to rival Frank Lloyd Wrights' Guggenheim.  What a journey and oh the possibilities!



Great Thinkers





This is my fifth year involved with Art Masterpiece at my daughters school.  While most of the kids in her grade affectionately know me as The Art Masterpiece lady, I suspect the memories will last a lifetime.









YA Titles of a Writer's Life

I've always read.

I've always written.

 

 

It's Kind of a Funny Story (Vizzini.)  This past weekend at an SCBWI event, I sat in the audience, listening to the same story over and over.  It was how many of us came into this industry, wearing our rose colored glasses not expecting to see The Fault in our Stars (Green.)

 

Add caption

 

I decided to sell my business and stay at home with my Daughter of Smoke and Bone (Taylor.)  She was two months old and I was going to write and publish picture books.  What could be more inspirational than my very own Stargirl (Spinelli.)
 

 

 

I didn't realize my inspiration was going to be hidden by Thirteen Reason's Why (Asher,) I would never be able to manage these two full time jobs at the same time.  Bottles, diapers, adorable factor and sleepless nights had made me The Giver (Lowry.)  This baby of mine had become my Bookthief (Zusak.)  The isolation and game change from career person to mom had me feeling like The MazeRunner (Dashner.) 

 

Plotting my own life like a good novel. I wanted to add a special gift to my personal conflict of this story.  I broke my ankle and The Perks of being a Wallflower (Chbosky) had new meaning.  Now, armed with crutches, baby, and my pencil in hand... picture books were bound to flow, Oprah would be calling anyday now.

 



 

I managed to write a few manuscripts and to learn about SCBWI.  The next five years passed and my writing career was not moving.  Kindergarten offered new hope.  It was time to put together All the Broken Pieces (Burg.)   Six whole hours a day to myself, seemed Almost Perfect (Katcher.)  I focused on craft, joined critique groups, read more books, attended SCBWI events, and learned the industry that I wanted to be part of.

 

I give my writing the same respect any of my friends give to their careers.  I write for six hours a day.  My office is my sanctuary, my assistants are covered in fur and have wet noses.  I play my Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist (Cohn & Levithan ) and I get down to the business of writing books for children. 

 

 

I read to my daughter. 

I read for myself. 

 

I found myself reading more and more Young Adult stories.  I started toying with short stories.  Wondering if I could actually connect them together with a plot line?  I studied plot, character development, dialog and grammer.  I kept hearing about this undefinable thing called "voice."  It seemed like the Same Difference (Siobhan) to me.

 

A year later my story was plotted out and was 45,000 words.  I thought this was an accomplishment on its own. (Celebrate all moments along the way)  I was in three critique groups, attending conferences, writing retreats and kept revising my story.  Now, my characters were telling the story. Perfect (Hopkins.)   VOICE- celebrate this moment!

 

My manuscript was The Chosen One (Williams) pulled for a private consultation, an editor loved my characters voice!  (celebrate!)  But, my story needed to be 25,000 additional words and then she'd love to read it.

 

I wasn't quick to claim the title of a writer.  I felt like a poser, I kept it Hush Hush (Fitzpatrick) because I was unpublished.  Somewhere along the way, I found the magic of my own Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants (Brashares) with my writing and illustrating friends.  I can depend on them and we are always there for each other. 

 

I added the 25,000 words and continued to revise.  There are moments in a writer's life where you Lament (Stiefvater) Shiver, and feel Lost (Davies.)  We strive for more than, Almost Perfect (Katcher) we need to tell our story the best we can.  The Chocolate War (Cormier ) and a glass of wine will sometimes help ease this gnawing desire.

 

I'm starting a second novel while revisions of the first are twisted in my head.  The new work flows  like Delirium (Oliver) and I wonder if this is how it feels Before I Fall (Oliver?) 

 

 

There are moments I feel like I'm Going Bovine (Bray) or on a Highway to Hell (Clement-Moore) trying my best to sort through the work I need to do. 

 

Just Listen (Dessen) as my character's voices rattle about in my head and they Speak (Halse-Anderson) to me.  They keep me on my task, they're Why I fight (Oaks) and keep my butt in my chair working on rough drafts and revisions.  With all this Surface Tension (Runyon) publication seems like a foreign concept.  But, it's The Call of the Wild (London) that my stories make it into the hands of children who will relate with them.  My writing is Forever (Blume) and I hope to see you Along for the Ride (Dessen.)



Heart and Soul

My writing is a direct line into my heart, I don't know any other way to get to the story. 



My writing is a part of me.  Even humor comes from an emotional place.

 

I've been asked if I am a plotter or pantser.  These two styles of writing consist of: 1) organized plot driven stories or 2) fly by the seat of your pants/character driven stories.  I've always resided somewhere in between, and I think I will call it Heart and Soul style.  I start a project based on a concept I feel is relatable and important.  Research, lists and outlines are completed before I write one word.   It becomes my own, based on the way my characters tell the story.   My first draft is me getting to know my characters, putting them in situations to see how they react.  These characters have their story to tell.  I hope that I have the ability to do them justice.

 

I have become a writer because of the way I live my life. 

 

I never gave all this mushy stuff much attention before.  But, on days like today when you are called to reflect upon humanity it becomes crystal clear.  My tribute story explains how writers fill their hearts with memories, emotions and descriptions to later draw from.

9/11

My daughter's artwork

 

 

Twelve years ago on September 11th the world changed for everyone.  Today the conversations are abuzz about where you were.  I can tell you where I was on that day.  I can tell you the look on the faces of the people who crowded around a small tv- disbelief, scared, anger,and sadness.  The most memorable part was how connected we were.  None of us in that office knew what it meant, none of us had answers but we realized this moment affected all of us.

 

As the day came to an end I found myself at my sister's house.  Being with family, was where I needed to be.  My niece came home from school, she was scared and didn't understand.  We didn't really understand what it meant, but knew we had to give her hope that everything was going to be okay. 

 

 

We found candles, then walked to the end of the driveway and lit them to honor the lives lost.  This simple act made us all feel better.  It made a difference, it gave us control in a time that we didn't know what we should do. Standing on the street with our candles lit, may sound corny.  What happened next was a moment that sticks.  One by one, the neighbors came out to the the street with their candles.  As cars rolled down the street on their way home from work, they nodded and moments later they would join us, lining the street.  The sun sank below the mountains and there in our tiny corner of the world, far away from WTC, our candles lit up the night and we came together.

 

That day fills my heart with memories.  A simple act of coping opened an area in my heart that is now filled with a personal experience.

 

I don't know if my stories will ever take me to place where I will write about the attack on the twin towers, or Al Qaeda, or anything political.  What lives in my heart will fuel my characters when I need to feel humanity, patriotism and community.

Attic History

Everytime I visit my mom, the trip ends the same way. 

At the last minute, she says,

"Wait, I have something for you."

Boxes of nostalgia have made their way into my library.  Filling the gaps between all of the amazing books I have spent reading with my daughter. 

Fast forward a year later, I was dusting the shelves of my library, I found myself drawn to Volume 2 of Childcraft, Stories and Fables.  I was transported back to the 1970's.   I would curl up, reading, in my white, pleather bean bag chair.  I not only remember this book, I know it backwards and forwards.  The same stories I've read to my daughter from her updated versions.  But, these stories are mine.  These illustrations are embedded in my head and will always be my point of reference when I hear these stories.



Beautiful Artwork, from the Boy who Cried Wolf



Not from Stinky Cheese Man

I love books.

 

My Little House on the Prairie books have been read and re-read.  Memories of grocery night at Meijer's, picking up dinner at McDonalds and then home to watch my favorite series brought to life.  Little House on the Praire was a weekly ritutal.  Oh, how I wanted an adopted brother like Albert.  (I settled for the new boy down the street- (Not from Mankato, MN, imagining how great it would be if my parents would adopt him.)

How many times have you read your favorite series?

I rode horses everyday. 

Nice shag hairstyle.

I loved drawing.  Drawing horses was natural.  This book found its way back to me via another delivery from mom.

My reading list was filled with Black Beauty, Flicka, Black Stallion and Misty of Chincoteague. Golden Prize was a favorite equine anthology. 

Around ten years old my interests expanded to:

Humor + Horses + Reading + Cartooning = Love

My experiences have brought me full circle to a life as an author/illustrator for children. Created and nourished by my family filling my days with love and surrounding me with books.

Packing up and saving 40+ years of my history and then handing this gift back to me = priceless