Everyday Inspiration: Jane, Lizzie, and Mozart

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: May 18, 2012
Categories: Craft, Creativity, Inspiration, Writing Process
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“Focus.” A friend recently spoke this word into my life. Was that before or after I’d decided that, for Lent, I’d give up trying to pack everything in?

 

I hate missing out on stuff. Because of that, I once arrived late at a retreat with friends: I had over-extended myself to finish a task that later turned out to have had a flexible deadline. I then left that same retreat early so I could catch the first rehearsal of the choir I sang in. I missed nothing that weekend! Except the point: to savor my friends and the retreat.

 

Now, drawn to the lodestar “Focus” and deliberately not squeezing everything in, I aimed for single-mindedness. To come home from work and write. That’s it.  Forgo time-sucking trips to the library (I who have books practically oozing out of my walls) or to the store, except for produce (I’ve got a terribly well-stocked pantry). Pare down on impromptu long chats with dear neighbor-friends. Cook big pots of soup and oatmeal, let dust bunnies grow to adolescence. Forsake all my usual time dribbles to WRITE.

 

As I focused and wrote, three inspirational examples played in my mind:

 

-My friend and neighbor JANE, who just started cello lessons after playing the violin when younger. Now she comes home from work and sneaks to the cello. She plays when she should be starting dinner or doing other mundane tasks.

 

-LIZZIE, Jane’s daughter, who’s studying the violin herself with wonderful Grandma Ellie. She practices late sometimes, Jane says, and the quality suffers. Yet those mediocre evenings still count. She’s putting in the time, moving forward, cumulatively getting better.

 

-MOZART. We all know about him–or think we do. He’s the genius who effortlessly produced delightful music, right? According to choreographer and dancer Twyla Tharp (in her amazing book The Creative Habit: what’s any creative person doing without it right next to them, dog-eared from being studied?), “Nobody worked harder than Mozart. By the time he was twenty-eight years old, his hands were deformed because of all the hours he had spent practicing, performing, and gripping a quill pen to compose.”

 

Frankly, I’d prefer to keep my hands well-shaped. But I desire to come closer to Mozart’s devotion to his craft, Jane’s yearning for her cello, Lizzie’s practicing anyway, anywhen. It’s working. My book is—slowly—advancing. So is my excitement, as I get new insights and ideas to weave into my book. I can hardly wait to read it all. And for you to be able to read it, too.

 

And now… Excuse me, I have some re-focusing to do. What with longer days, new calls on my time, deciding about summer travels, new job possibilities, I need to remember Jane, Lizzie, and Mozart. To go to my writing as though to a tryst. To write even out of season. To feed my calling in various ways, becoming fully a writer.

 

Meanwhile, let’s toast all those who inspire us. Who are some who inspire you?

 

Sabina I. Rascol

www.sabinairascol.com

 

Skiing and Writing: Parallel Tracks

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: March 16, 2012
Categories: Celebrations, Challenges, Inspiration
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“Don’t laugh,” I told Steve. A couple of years before, he’d rented me my first pair of skis. The spring of 2008, I had big news to tell him. “I’m a ski instructor at Meadows!”

And that, dear readers, is my full disclosure. I teach skiing part time at Meadows Ski Resort to support my skiing habit.

Now, as it snows and snows up the mountain, Meadows’ spring pass just went on sale, and happy bluebird days are ahead, I present some thoughts about skiing. Skiing and writing. Parallel tracks.

IT’S FUN NO MATTER WHAT LEVEL YOU’RE AT
I liked my first turns on the bunny hill, carrying poles across my arms like a tray. Because I talked big, the afternoon of my first day my instructor took us to harder green runs than the next-step Buttercup. I had spectacular spills on what felt like canyon walls, yet was game for more. I loved it already.

I now drop into bowls, have made friends with bumps, and prefer visibility while skiing but know it’s not essential. I love skiing almost any way.

*
Journaling? Great.

Writing poetry, maybe more to understand and express feelings than to create art? Wonderful.

Letters to friends with felicitously-turned phrases? Very good.

Picture book sketches? Scenes for multiple novels-in-progress? First draft of the one you decide to stick with? BEAUTIFUL.

YOU CAN ALWAYS GET BETTER
I took lessons from the first, then practiced, focusing on one improvement or another.

I continue to practice. You know… Gradually initiating turns. Completing them properly. Being balanced over my skis. Not dropping my hands.

And I learn from other instructors, both skiing with them and participating in clinics with instructors so good they teach other instructors. I love knowing that when the best skiers on our mountain go catch some turns, even they still talk about what they can do better.

*
Write, write, and write some more.
Let your writing sit, look at it again, and revise.
Read about writing.
Go to conferences.
Read!
Repeat. : )

YOU LEARN WHEN YOU TEACH
I now know about my anterior tibialis, the muscle that should be firing for proper shin contact with boots. (Thank you, Rick Lyons! When I grow up, I am going to ski like you.) As an instructor, you learn to analyze someone’s movements. You learn how to break down and explain the mechanics involved in improving one’s skiing. And you show it all. Talking and demonstrating, you yourself learn.

*
I write instinctively, drawing from the knowledge of writing and story imbuing me from my lifelong love affair with books. Yet, designing my “Shaping a Story” school visit presentation, I took time to think analytically and isolate the building blocks of story. I extracted for others and for myself, and have ready for constant review, the basics we use without thinking but overlook at our peril.

Invited for a three-day visit as Poet-in-Residence at an area school, I verbalized for myself and others why in fact we need seemingly unessential poetry. That is an important affirmation I wouldn’t have arrived at if I hadn’t needed to articulate it for others.

Look for opportunities to teach others. It will stretch you and you will learn more about what you know.

IT’S MORE FUN WITH FRIENDS
In early days, I went up to the mountain more or less alone. So, apart from lessons, I skied solo. I so loved to ski, I didn’t care. Not too much, anyway.

It’s more fun now, with friends. To talk with on the lift. To wait when you have a spill. To praise your turn shape, or point out adjustments that will improve your skiing. And then, to fly down the mountain with.

*
So too with writing. Writing is ultimately solitary, but it doesn’t have to be lonely. Even as we go about our individual lives, I am warmed by the presence of the Scrivas out there.

Have a writing date with a writer buddy. Form a critique group. Have writing days together, or even retreats (learn from ours). Join a writers’ list-serv, and meet others at conferences. Then stay in touch with like-minded friends.

THE WHOLE MOUNTAIN WAITS TO BE EXPLORED
Once comfortable on groomed runs, it’s fun to go off piste. To learn of runs without posted names, like the Tunnel of Love and Crybaby. (Hi, Sasha! : )

To ski through the trees (though, hugely important, avoid tree wells! and ski with a friend). To catch air in the parks.

The whole mountain is yours: Explore it. Learn it. Love it.

*
So too in writing. There are different genres, or age levels to write for. That’s one of the things I love about our critique group: though we all write for young readers, we write everything. Not just picture books, or novels. Not just fiction, or non-fiction. Graphic novels, books about how to write… Everything.

IT’S ONLY HARD TILL YOU START
The other week, not needed at Meadows’ instructor line-up, I was released for the day. It was raining on the mountain, so I thought I’d go have a rare Saturday at home. But the friend I was catching a ride with, also released for the day, first wanted to take a couple of runs despite the rain. After all, he’d driven all the way up the mountain…

“Alright, I’ll join you,” I said. And we couldn’t stop skiing. We left some hours later, during which we worked on our turns at snail speed to figure out the bugs, then caught steeps for the sheer joy of it. In the meantime, the rain stopped and it turned into a bluebird day. I felt so privileged to be up there.

*
Often it’s hard to start writing. Then I get into the story, find flow, and don’t want to stop. It’s only hard till we get past that initial bump.

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
I learned to ski as an adult, after wanting to for years. It took two things for me to finally do so: moving to Portland, with great skiing close enough that it didn’t have to be a rare and expensive destination vacation. And being able to afford it.

*
With writing, there’s no good reasons to wait. It’s practically free: pen and paper worked for Shakespeare, Milton, and a bunch more people you ‘ve heard of, some of them still alive. A computer is nice, but that can mean your old clunker with minimal processing power or one at your local library. You can reserve it in advance for an hour.

Harder yet, like anything worthwhile in life, writing takes time. Yet if we want it badly enough (see the inspiring blog Amber recently referenced), writing time can be found. Look for it, and make a long-desired dream happen. Write.

Know Thyself

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: February 17, 2012
Categories: Challenges, Writing Process
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It’s mid-February, with ten full months still ahead in which to accomplish goals for this year. Writing In Search of “Efficious” last month, I stumbled across several insights about what I ideally need in order to write. Self discovery while communicating… It reminds me of my burning need to speak up in college classes so I could crystallize the important truths I was perceiving. Good thing my alma mater fostered small classes that invited participation. Even now I still need to “speak to learn” in small discussion groups I’m part of.

Here are my insights about what I optimally need in order to write.

 

 

INSIGHT #1
To be able to write, I need mental space.
I don’t do well when work leaves no time except for sleep, or leaves me as emotionally or mentally dehydrated as baccala (dried codfish), requiring ages to “plump up” again. Nor can I write well when time is plentiful but chewed through by financial concerns.

INSIGHT #2
For me, unrealistic goals can be worse than no goals.
I need realistic goals. Goals that stretch, that challenge, but that yet are accessible, reachable.

Sometimes I set an overly-big goal for myself hoping I’ll do at least some of it. Deep inside, though, I know when a goal is ridiculous. I then run far from it. Why bother when I know it’s impossible? I probably stay away longer from my writing when I set an impossible goal than when I set no goal at all.

INSIGHT #3
I need real accountability with meat and muscles on it.
I always turned in my papers in college. Often enough they were a little late—though I was in good company. A Bryn Mawr joke goes: “How many Bryn Mawrters does it take to screw in a light bulb? One, but she’ll need an extension.” My papers may not have been as brilliant as they would have been had they been started earlier. But they always got done, because THEY HAD TO BE.

I wish I had something like that now.

If I had to submit to the Scrivas every couple of months or so or lose my place at the table, the Scrivas would receive “product” from me much more often than they do now.

If I knew hungry readers waited each month for an installment of my novel, as American readers in the 1800s waited each month for the ship that delivered the latest installment of a Dickens novel, that installment would get written.

If Literary Arts required that Oregon Literary Fellowships recipients submit their completed, or at least MUCH further-along work-in-progress at the end of the grant year, I would be cranking along.

I’m working on setting something like that up for myself.

INSIGHT #4
I need to embrace the truth within my schedule.
Recently I created one of those color-coded schedules I’d make each semester in college. (I am revisiting those days, aren’t I? I guess knowledge and college go together.) On the schedule, classes were blocked out in one color, as were the two hours of study time allotted to each class hour. Sleep and meals were blocked out in another color, church and small group in another, all commitments accounted for. Then one could see how much time there really was available.

Re-engaging in this exercise showed me that right now I only have about four hours a day in which to do anything I’m going to do that day. Everything: cook or clean, see friends, write… So, if I’m going to write, I HAVE TO DO IT WITHIN THOSE FOUR HOURS! Furthermore, I need to write sooner rather than later within those hours, as by their tail end my brain cells are turning in.

INSIGHT #5 (late-breaking news)
“Sleep, optional” doesn’t work in the long run.
I am like a kid when it comes to going to sleep. I push against bedtime, stinting on sleep to do other things. Currently my schedule is such that, even if I want to go to sleep at a timely hour, doing any evening activity means I no longer have enough hours left for a full night’s sleep. Late to bed and early to rise, though, only works for a while. After too long on a “low sleep” diet, life begins losing its savor. I need to like my life, not merely survive it, to want to write and enjoy it.

These insights are leading me to consider changes in my life that will help me write more, with verve. What are things you’ve come to realize that you optimally need in order to write?

-Sabina I. Rascol-
www.sabinairascol.com

 

On Motivation: In Search of “Efficious”

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: January 17, 2012
Categories: Celebrations, Challenges, Other Topics, Writing Process
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Put your dictionaries away. “Efficious” is not in the Oxford English Dictionary…yet. It’s my own coinage combining “efficient” with “delicious.”

PROLOGUE

Some Scrivas awe me with their efficiency and productivity. They get 8 or 9 stars, maybe even 10 out of 10, as regards these quantifiers. I haven’t asked, but I imagine they grew up disciplined even while young ‘uns. Who knows, maybe they were born that way: you know, popping into the world in the minimum time allowed by the medical establishment.

While I… I haven’t asked my mother how long it took for me to make my appearance, but based on later events, I’d guess I took my sweet time about it. I didn’t learn efficiency at my mother’s knee, didn’t manage to get it drummed into me at school, and I continue to strive for it. Some battle the bulge, or fiscal solvency, while I battle time management. Getting things done. Accomplishing what I wish to get done, what I set out to do.

So at different times I come up with different ways to move forward, at least for a little bit. And then to move forward some more.

I tried a couple of different methods with my writing in 2011. Here’s the story.

CHAPTER 1: EXTRINSIC MOTIVATION

Last spring and summer I took time chiefly to write. My mental space was clear, and I was reasonably successful. What most helped me was deciding to apply for a writing fellowship with a late-June deadline. I had already written enough that, though applying was a big reach, my goal was doable. I met it. There’s nothing like a realistic unbudgeable deadline for making things happen.

I aimed to continue my momentum by submitting at each month’s Viva Scriva meeting. In July I garnered wows (along with, yes, plenty of things to fix) as the Scrivas saw again several polished chapters.

I loved their reaction, and wanted again that cat-licking-up-cream feeling. But I couldn’t yank myself out of the morass of endless polishing to punch out later chapters in a timely fashion. That, combined with non-writerly concerns that encroached on my mental space, dissipated my plan of monthly Viva Scriva submissions.

In late fall I came up with new carrots—or were they sticks?—to turbo-charge my writing. One: I would do a mini-NaNo (National Novel Writing Month), taking ten days to flood my laptop with myriads of words that would unfold to me my story. I’d produced that much some years before. Two: I would finish a whole draft of my book in time for the application deadline for a wonderful novel revision workshop.

I didn’t meet either of these goals, both of which I now see as unrealistic. A big new time commitment intervened, and, surprisingly, sleep still hasn’t become wholly optional.

CHAPTER TWO: INTRINSIC (VS. EXTRINSIC) MOTIVATION

Around that time, I dipped into Daniel H. Pink’s Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us. I was tickled by his idea of intrinsic motivation resulting in real success. I decided to reconnect with my pleasure in writing. To write not for the extrinsic reasons of getting praise from the Scrivas, of meeting self-imposed myriad-word goals, of having a chance at a fellowship, or getting into a select writing workshop. No. Just for the intrinsic motivation of Enjoying the Story.

It was a lovely time. I let go of big goals, of unrealistic goals, or even of measuring anything at all. This reconnection with my joy in the story was fruitful. I learned I don’t know enough about my heroine’s relationship with her father. An inspiring older cousin wanted to enter the story. Other works-in-progress I’d sequestered away beckoned to me with nuggets for their storylines.

Some time later, I saw I’d strayed away from my path. I had tracked woodland birds, eaten wild strawberries, and tumbled in meadows. But I had forgotten I was on a path to a destination, the completion of my novel.

CHAPTER 3: INTRINSIC AND EXTRINSIC

So I returned to a happy medium, the golden mean. I don’t need “Extrinsic” or “Intrinsic VS. Extrinsic.” Rather, “Extrinsic AND Intrinsic” are necessary to move a story along and make it the rich place I want it to be. I need goals and measurable stepping stones—as well as time to savor being in my story, twirling around within it, taking a bite of metaphorical honeycomb or burrowing my face in barely-fragrant star magnolias.

Just in time for our goal meeting in late January, I believe in the importance of goals again. Of both “accomplishing” goals and “enjoying” sort of goals. I want my writing work to be efficient AND delicious. Efficious.

EPILOGUE

Umm… Remember that fellowship I was applying for back in June? I just learned I won it—I am the Young Readers Literature recipient for the 2012 Oregon Literary Fellowships. See? Extrinsic motivation works. And Intrinsic. Together, they are best. Efficious.

 

-Sabina I. Rascol

www.sabinairascol.com

The Joy of Running [Writing]

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: November 16, 2011
Categories: Challenges, Inspiration, Writing Process
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Comments: 2 Comments

Drops fall and course along my cheeks. I reach my hand and, for the nth time, squeeze sweat from strands of hair on either side of my face. It’s alright, my run is nearly over. Dry hair is coming.

Those who know me well are surprised at this new development in my life. Running. Yeah. Voluntarily. Me.

While I’ve done my fair share of running for buses in car-less days, I’ve never cared for running. Yet I’m not a couch potato, though I can spend the happy rare day curled up reading. I like to walk, hike, bicycle, scull, stretch/do yoga, ski.

Ah, skiing…! I started skiing six years ago when I moved to the Pacific Northwest, and soon became an addict. Now the ski season is about to start and I’m not in good enough shape. As several people through the years told me that running is a good way to get in shape, I took the plunge and started to run.

Punctuating a two-mile loop with four walking stretches, I aimed to run it without stopping eight days later. I surprised myself by meeting my goal, and, having built up endurance, actually enjoyed the run. I’m now increasing the distance, varying the route, thinking some about speed, and integrating a nearby hill that’s a workout even just to walk.

When I starting running, I could only look at the road in front of me, raising my eyes just to see how far to the next immediate goal. Some days are still like that. Other days, I can enjoy my surroundings and even greet passers-by. Braving the hill, my eyes are glued to the path again. I’m pushing myself, and the pushing takes a lot out of me.

A couple of refrains, words or pictures, regularly play in my mind as I run: “Legs and lungs, lungs and legs,” as a mountain-climbing friend told me. And: “Heather!” as in Meadows Ski Resort’s Heather Canyon. My second season skiing I was advised to stay off Heather Canyon until I was a better skier. I ski it now, but get tired. My goal in running is to be in such good shape that I don’t need to stop and rest when I ski Heather. I’ve got a ways to go, believe me. I plan to continue to push myself—running, bicycling, and otherwise working out—throughout the season and afterward, too.

So what does any of this have to do with writing?

It occurred to me that writing is a lot like running. Writing can be fun, but it isn’t necessarily. If it’s important to us, we have to keep doing it anyway. Though one can write just for writing’s sake (that’s what I do when I journal), the writing we do as authors is writing with a lofty goal. We each have a “Heather Canyon” at the forefront of our minds: the book we want to accomplish.

Once when I was doing a school visit, the teacher asked the children: “Wouldn’t it be sad if Sabina had gotten tired of writing and revising and we wouldn’t have The Impudent Rooster?” The children’s faces were priceless as they envisioned this tragedy, then were grateful that I had persevered, the tragedy had been averted and everyone could relish The Impudent Rooster.

I remember that teacher’s question sometimes when I write. Right now, I may wonder whether any of it is worth it, whether it matters that my book exists. I may wonder whether how the story should unwind, and whether I can write it well enough to accomplish what I intend. But then I think of people who one day may tell me that my book, which so often almost didn’t get written, somehow mattered for good in their lives.

In the book of Hebrews in the Bible it says that Jesus, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. Can you imagine it? All that pain (it is from this method of execution that we get the word “excruciating”) was borne for the sake of joy. For the sake of Heather Canyon and the rest of the mountain, for my joy in skiing, I endure the running—coming to find enjoyment in it too along the way. For the joy of one-day readers who may be inspired, affirmed, encouraged, changed, by my books, I endure the sloughing through doubt and questioning and plenty of plain hard work.

There are many reasons why writers write. Ultimately, though, I think that’s why we do it: for joy.

 

-Sabina I. Rascol

www.sabinairascol.com

 

“In MY Version of Your Story,” Revisited

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: October 12, 2011
Categories: Critique Process, Other Topics
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Back in August, Addie wrote about the importance of not imposing one’s views when critiquing a manuscript. [Read her post here.] Everything she said is worth studying and thoughtfully applying.

And yet… At the risk of sounding like the wolf in Jon Scieszka’s The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, I want to offer some additional thoughts to stand alongside the important things Addie said.

Yes, dear reader, I am the “In MY version of your story” Scriva. The phrase arose some years ago, before Viva Scriva existed, when Nicole and I met weekly to write. At times we discussed our works-in-progress. Nicole had begun her novel Mercury’s Daughter, set in 16th century Flanders and involving astronomy and lace-making.

You know how sometimes you read a book, or see a movie, that’s so intriguing you keep mulling it over? Nicole’s novel was that good. However, it wasn’t finished yet! So, nature abhorring a vacuum, my brain raced ahead with how the story might develop. In one place, I married elements present in the story to felicitously resolve later matters.

There’s good trust and friendship between us, so when I blabbed to Nicole about the thing I’d imagined as though it was in fact in her book, we both got a kick out of it. Just recently, I learned she liked my idea so well she’s using it.

“In MY version of your story” acknowledges that what I’ve come up with is not necessarily what you are doing. It’s a possible path your story can take, an option for you to consider—if it rings true to you, if it inspires you in the direction you want to go. If you like it, great, use it. If you don’t, no problem.

It may have happened to you too. Problems are pointed out in a manuscript and you know exactly how to fix them. Occasionally, though, you’re stuck in the dark. The person critiquing doesn’t know how to fix the problem, either, but only that something isn’t working. Liz is famous among us for saying, “I don’t know how you’ll do it, but I know you can!” We love her confidence in us, and this has become a Viva Scriva catchphrase.

In our group, manuscripts can be, and are, submitted over and over. It’s a tremendous benefit we offer each other. Interestingly, we don’t weary of reading the same material, but marvel at the progress made as Scrivas revise per past comments. So we have more than one shot at resolving issues that don’t work. Still, at times doing so feels like playing Blind Man’s Buff, or that other children’s game where an object is hidden and you must find it guided only by cries of “Warm, cold, warm, warmer, HOT!”

That’s why I appreciate it when the Scrivas offer ideas about how to fix a problem—which, in fact, they do often enough. Of course, the Scrivas are seasoned and/or professional writers, not newbies learning how to critique or how to write at a professional level. Sometimes their ideas may be integrated as offered, or they can serve as a starting point for solutions that feel right to the writer. The crucial thing, what makes it work, is that ideas are offered, not prescribed or pushed on anyone.

It reminds me of years ago, when I lived with housemates as dear to me as sisters. When J. Lynne got married, three of us accompanied her as she shopped for a wedding dress. Upstairs in that elegant brownstone in South Philly, J. Lynne tried on a zillion dresses, then had to decide among her three favorites. What did we think?

It turned out that each of us liked a different dress best. That was good. “It frees me to pick the dress I really want,” she said. And she did. It wasn’t my contender, if you’re wondering. She looked absolutely beautiful anyway.

But enough about that. Let’s talk now about my version of YOUR story…

-Sabina I. Rascol
www.sabinairascol.com

Optimists of the World…Make Room for Everyone Else!

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: August 12, 2011
Categories: Challenges, Other Topics
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Dr. Seligman, I owe you an apology. I thought you were one of those positive thinking guys. Instead, you have your Ph.D., Penn professorship, professional colleagues and profuse research all in the science of optimism. You’re not into people merely repeating “Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better,” whether it’s true or not. Rather, you desire to help people change habits of thought that will concretely improve their health, happiness, relationships, work… and even WRITING! For this, I thank you.

At a pivotal meeting in late 2008, the Scrivas discussed personal obstacles to writing. As I remember, these fell into two broad categories that likely all creative types can recognize: 1) life—demanding jobs, young families, lack of time; and 2) doubts about ourselves and our work—showing up in questions such as, “Am I good enough?” “Do I have anything to say?” “Does my work matter?”

Here’s the rub. What we believe affects what we do—or don’t. Aptitude and motivation are not enough, Seligman says. Optimism is also required. “A composer can have all the talent of a Mozart and a passionate desire to succeed, but if he believes he cannot compose music, he will come to nothing. He will not try hard enough. He will give up too soon when the elusive right melody takes too long to materialize. Success requires persistence, the ability to not give up in the face of failure. I believe that optimistic explanatory style is the key to persistence.”

People can have general or localized pessimistic tendencies. The good news is that optimism can be learned. As Seligman puts it, it’s not what happens to us (“Adversity”), but how we explain it to ourselves (“Belief”) that matters, affecting how we feel and what we do or don’t do (“Consequences”). Here’s an example. The A is the same in both instances. The differing B is what determines the C, action or lack of it.

Adversity: I feel stuck, I can’t write.
Belief: I’m a terrible person. I can’t ever do anything.
Consequences: Why bother at all? I give up.

Adversity: I feel stuck, I can’t write.
Belief: My goals are unrealistic. I need to come up with more realistic goals.
Consequences: OK, there’s something I can do. Let me revise my goals.

This is merely an amuse gueule to whet your appetite for the multi-course meal of Seligman’s book Learned Optimism. You’ll want to read his full ABCDEs, and learn about permanent, pervasive, and personal explanations (pessimistic), and their optimistic opposites.

For myself, having Learned Optimism, I’m moving on to Authentic Happiness. Yes, that is finally within reach! It’s another Seligman title, now waiting for me on the hold shelf of my library.

Going for the Gold

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: July 18, 2011
Categories: Challenges, Craft, Critique Process, Writing Process
Tags:, , , ,
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I love the Scrivas. They’re safe, trustworthy and supportive. But they’re not necessarily comfortable. They challenge me, making me stretch.

Comfort, though, is not the main reason we meet every month. “Best” is. We’re going for the gold. I am so grateful to Viva Scriva, we all are, for not letting each other get away with anything but the best.

I’m intrigued right now by Geoff Colvin’s book, Talent Is Overrated: What Really Separates World Class Performers from Everybody Else. Sometimes I check out books from the library because they catch my eye; then, there not being time for everything, some go back unread. This one almost did. But I gave it another “flip-through,” and it’s so good, I’m reading it in earnest.

The book’s thesis is that in any field, what makes someone rise to the top is lots of hard work. Or, as Colvin says, “deliberate practice.” The components of deliberate practice are:

-It’s designed specifically to improve performance.

-It can be repeated a lot.

-Feedback is continuously available.

-It’s highly demanding mentally.

-It isn’t much fun.

A year ago, I wrote the first draft of a historical middle grade novel. I wanted to revise it before giving it to the Scrivas, and tried a totally new  approach. In June, I submitted these re-written first chapters to Viva Scriva.

Well, I was successful in some of my goals. The Scrivas agreed that the writing was beautiful and clean. (Check). The information and setting were fascinating. (Check.) But it didn’t read like a book for children, though that’s what I was trying to do. The Scrivas suggested maybe recasting it for adults. Nope. Not this one.

Back to the drawing board. I dropped the elegiac voice and returned to the original kid voice, ramped up some kilowatts. I introduced way more plot, characterization, and even conflict! All the good things we know, yet usually need more of.

Comments in July were positive. I’m on my way!

But am I there? Not by far! I received a zillion suggestions for improving the story. Guess what? I need even MORE conflict, clarity, goals for the character, etc.

Alright. I’m busy writing. Our next meeting is hurrying to meet me.

This is my chance to apply Colvin’s findings about deliberate practice. Yes, I can write a lot. It’s demanding. It’s not always fun, or easy. The Scrivas provide feedback, which guides me in improving my “performance.”

We Scrivas constantly challenge each other, I said. But eventually the day comes when we agree: “This manuscript is ready!” The writer did her part, constantly practicing, stretching, improving. The Scrivas did theirs, being a not always comfortable, but always purifying, refiner’s fire.

The manuscript has become pure gold. Finally, it’s “best.” Ready for a medal—or publication.

 

- Sabina I. Rascol -

www.sabinairascol.com

 

 

How the Scrivas Got Their Viva…er, Name

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: June 6, 2011
Categories: Basics, Celebrations, Other Topics
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Years ago, while in Romania on a Fulbright Fellowship, I was invited to attend a graduation ceremony at Academia de Stiinte Economice (Academy of Business Sciences), Romania’s premier business school.

I suppose because this joint Romanian-American executive MBA program was in its starting years, Romanian’s then-president Ion Iliescu participated in the ceremony.

Far more exciting to me, however, were the minutes during the academic procession when the audience stood and joined together in Brahms’ Academic Festival Overture. I love to sing, and, the Latin text being provided in the graduation booklet, was able to belt out the extremely singable music. “Gaudeamus igitur juvenes dum sumus,” the song starts, “Then let us rejoice in our youth,” and continues, appropriately enough: “Vivat academia, vivant professores…” “Long live academia, long live professors…”

Fast forward about a decade, and hop many degrees of longitude to Portland, Oregon, where I became part of a wonderful group of writers. We’d been together long enough that we’d jelled, we knew we had a special thing going, but one thing was still needed.

“A name,” one or the other of us would say, more and more often. “We need a name!”

In April 2009, putting procrastinating time to good use, Ruth began playing around with possible names for us.

Her initial idea was to make up an anagram based on our first initials, A, A, A, E, M, M, N, R, S. “Lots of nice vowels and consonants to choose from,” she said, and even came up with two possible names.

When I read her e-mail, I was impressed by the work she’d done. The two possibilities, though, seemed a bit heavy to me. And what if one day one of us moved on, another writer joined, but, gasp, didn’t have her initial included in the anagram?

Yet Ruth had also found a very intriguing Italian word. “Scriva appeals to me because it combines diva — Italian for a brilliantly talented woman in opera — and the Latin root for writing. And it’s got a bit of the vivace flavoring. [...] OK, my brain has run dry. It somebody else’s turn.”

Scriva—that sang out to me! I guess it was my turn. Ruth had set it all out: scriva… diva… vivace… My synapses fired, I remembered that joyful academic song from years before, and…

“How about Viva Scriva?” I replied.

Occasionally, at our critiques, one of us makes a comment that everyone deeply agrees with. With Viva Scriva, too, there was that unanimous sense of recognition. This was our name. We were Viva Scriva!

So, thank you, Brahms. Thank you, Academia de Stiinte Economice, and thank you, 13th century student who put your procrastinating time to good use writing “Gaudeamus igitur.” Most of all, of course, thank you, Ruth. ScrivaRuth.

**

If you really want to know more:

Ruth dug out one meaning of scriva, then I dug out a little more. This is what I understood and communicated to my fellow Scrivas:

So you know what we’re saying, see: http://italian.about.com/library/verb/blverb_scrivere.htm

…and especially the Subjunctive/Congiuntivo (i.e., = “I would write”–VERY appropriate!) and the Imperative (“write!”–though I don’t get what third person, AND singular, means exactly. I guess it’s addressed to a she or he).

Viva (and vivat) of course means “long live.”

Viva Scriva, as we coined it, means “Long live writing!” or “Long live the writers.”

**

Sabina I. Rascol

www.sabinairascol.com

 

Ocean, Mountains, or Desert? DIY Retreats (and Baked Oatmeal for Breakfast)

by Sabina I. Rascol
Published on: April 30, 2011
Categories: Basics, Celebrations, Craft, Events, Other Topics, Writing Process
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Come. Grab your calendar and something to drink. We’re talking Viva Scriva retreats.

Our group started with the monthly critique evenings that are at the core of our existence. As our respect, trust, and liking for each other as writers and people grew, we were ready for something more. We gathered therefore one evening in Liz’s artsy attic to discuss Process.

This was a potent meeting. We opened up about personal obstacles to writing. We imagined, then shared, what our theoretical business advisers might say about our writing careers (thanks for the exercise, Addie!). It connected us deeper, and left us wanting more. More time together to talk, discuss process, and especially, to write. So, like Queen Esther’s banquet, this gathering led to another: our first writing retreat!

We decided to do everything ourselves in order to save money and have exactly the kind of time we wanted. You can learn what we consider essential, and “taste” a Viva Scriva retreat, by reading all the way down.

That late February, the Scrivas hunkered down to write at a relative’s house in the Oregon desert. We fell in love with the location, and that place and time became our official “annual retreat.”

The benefit of a writing retreat is solid blocks of hours to work on projects. Oftentimes, new works are started and long-suffered works are completed. (I myself began my main work-in-progress at our second annual retreat. I love seeing the date and location underneath the title on the first draft: “2/20/2010, ——, Oregon”.) Working together spurs us on. It’s inspiring to look up and see other Scrivas furiously typing, marking up manuscript pages, or staring off into space gathering story threads. Then after our satisfying labors, we reconnect as people and fellow writers.

In 2010, to our February retreat we added one in May, then another in October. We learned that three writing retreats a year are wonderful, but not everyone will be able to make them. That makes us sad, since we like all being together.

This January, several Scrivas jaunting off to job interviews abroad or East Coast writing conferences, we couldn’t take additional time away for our beloved February retreat. It was a mistake. Scrivas became cranky. We needed and wanted together time to write, talk, and process. We’ve planned a make-up retreat, which took a lot of juggling around. (OK, this is where everyone pulls out her calendar…and hair.)

As we’re entering our third retreat year, we’ve come to see that planning retreat dates by ear doesn’t cut it. Each of us has too many things going on: school, family, religious, holiday, and work commitments, besides writing conferences. We hate missing retreats, or having a dear Scriva not attend because of previous plans. The Scrivas therefore decided on weekends “set in…paper,” when we will retreat henceforth. Early November and late February work best for us, with possibly a third retreat in early June for all who can make it. Now we can guard those dates from the other good things that invariably will beckon. On those weekends, we’re booked. It’s time for our books.

***

DIY RETREAT ESSENTIALS

-A FREE OR LOW-COST PLACE TO STAY. So far, family and friends have opened their houses to us while they were away. Soon we will go on a retreat at the Oregon coast, Addie having found a rental that’s reasonable when split eight ways.

-AS FEW CARS AS POSSIBLE. One year, when only seven of us went, we all packed light and squeezed into one van. Except for missing Mary, it was wonderful. The best advantage of carpooling is continuing the mix of book, craft, and personal talk that is the never-have-enough-time-for Viva Scriva conversation.

-SIGN-UPS FOR YUMMY MEALS. Wouldn’t you like:

Sabina’s baked oatmeal, by popular acclaim become the official Saturday breakfast (leftovers to be enjoyed the whole retreat long)?

Nicole’s tea sandwiches and scones for lunch?

Vegetable lasagna, chili, or Liz’s soup (drop in hominy and your choice of goodies in chicken broth), for dinner?

On top of that, everyone brings whatever snacks she wishes to help us survive from one great meal to the next.

-A WONDERFULLY BALANCED SCHEDULE.

Self-serve breakfast for each person to partake of as she wakes, then moseys to a chosen spot to write.

A whole morning to write!

Lunch together and conversation. But we don’t linger.

More quiet writing time in the afternoon (with Scrivas perhaps shifting around so others can relish favored spots, like the loveseat overlooking a desert vista, or the couch in front of the fireplace).

(Scrivas go on walks or runs as they wish, in the morning or afternoon.)

In the evening, it’s time for cocktails and letting down hair as Amber pours. Margaritas? Lemon drops? Chrysanthemums?

After dinner, a joint activity. One time, we discussed the creativity classic Art and Fear. Another time, each Scriva crafted a strand of powerfully symbolic Writing Beads and shared their significance. (One of us will blog about Writing Beads in the future.)

Before leaving, everyone pitches in to clean the house (unless it’s a rental where the cleaning fee takes care of it).

-THANK YOU CARD AND/OR SMALL PRESENT (copies of Scriva books?) for the absent hosts, who have meanwhile been added to the Viva Scriva “Patrons of Art” Roll.

There it is, the Viva Scriva retreat. No patent is pending, so jump right in, be inspired by us to craft your own based on your needs and resources. And, because every person who has ever savored the Black Rock Baked Oatmeal invariably asks for the recipe, you may as well have it now. Now your cup—and bowl—can run over.

BAKED OATMEAL (adapted from recipe from Black Rock Retreat Center in Pennsylvania)

For eight people, and because we love the leftovers, I triple the recipe below. One third (a regular recipe) is made without milk for those who don’t do dairy, and goes in its own 9×9” pan. The doubled recipe gets a bigger 9×13” pan. Everything can be prepped the night before and popped in the oven by the first person to wake. Enjoy!

1 / 2 c. oil

1 / 2 c. white sugar

1 / 2 c. brown sugar

2 beaten eggs

1 c. milk

3 c. oatmeal (quick or regular)

1 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

2 t. cinnamon

raisins

Mix oatmeal with baking powder and cinnamon, then add raisins and milk. Combine this with the egg mixture. Spread into a greased (optional) 9×9” pan and bake 30-45 minutes at 350 degrees. You may add chocolate chips, chopped nuts, dried or fresh fruits or whatever to this recipe. Serve with milk as a cereal, or, warm or cool, as a coffee cake.

–Sabina I. Rascol

www.sabinairascol.com

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Welcome , May 18, 2012