Teaching Yourself the Craft

By Keith N Fisher

My grandmother made wedding cakes. It was one of the many ways my grandparents made a living together. Grandpa was a hard working farmer and traveling salesman. Grandma was a hard working farmers wife and cake maker.

At one time, grandma had the recommendation of caterers and wedding planners. Some of her business came through word of mouth and she had several portfolio picture books brides could look through in order to make decisions.

I’m not sure when the world turned to fondant, but my grandmother decorated the old fashioned way. She sat for hours with frosting bags making string loops. She made frosting roses with the speed of a machine. Each cake was a work of art. She was master of her craft.

Grandma made wedding cakes for all of her older grandkids, as well as her nieces and nephews. Many times she would have four huge cakes going at once in different stages, and we had great conversations while she worked on them.

As far as I know, Grandma never had any formal training in her craft. She taught herself how to make the decorations. My grandma got started when her grandma didn’t have time to make the cake for a family wedding. She asked my grandma to make it and nobody knew until years later. After that, grandma learned from the work of others and taught herself an enviable craft.

You don’t see many wedding cakes these days, decorated in the old ways. Fondant and plastic are the mediums of choice. Even the applesauce and spice cakes have given way to other kinds. It still takes time and a little talent to master the craft, but I think the world has lost a beautiful art form through evolution and lack of knowledge.

The writing craft is like any form of art. Even with formal training, the artisans must practice and teach themselves to form words and place them in a coherent and meaningful way.

Learning the craft of writing is simple. Just glean what you can from others, then sit down and practice. In the book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell claims it takes ten thousand hours of practice to become perfect in everything. How many words does that convert to?

Good luck with you writing---see you next week.

It Happened Again

By Keith N Fisher

What is your favorite time of year? Summer, with all it’s splendor and outdoor living? Winter is nice, because of Christmas and snow sports. The fall colors can be beautiful, and relief from summer heat, makes Autumn nice, too. I like Spring. Even with an iffy year like we’ve had, the relief from Winter’s grasp and the newness of life, is a wonder to behold.

Have you ever balanced an egg on end? You can do it during the moment of the equinox. I wanted to see if it was possible, so I took an egg to work several years ago. We tried and tried just before the appointed time. It just wouldn’t stay up.

Suddenly, at the exact time, the egg stayed up. We took a picture. (It didn’t turn out. A white egg on a white counter.) It was truly amazing.

Such is our life on Mother Earth. There are wonders to behold, right in front of our eyes and we don’t see them. Many people, over time, attached mystical significance to those events. Like in 1833, A meteor shower lit up the night sky. Many of the Cheyenne who gathered at Bent’s Fort in Colorado thought it was a sign of the end of the world. Chief White Thunder saw it as a new beginning and made peace with his enemies.

Many of us, recently, were witnesses to two celestial events that could’ve been interpreted much the same way, if nineteenth century Native Americans could’ve seen it. Thanks to modern mass media, we are witnesses to many wonders. We also, see many troubling things such as war and natural disasters. We can choose to interpret it like the ancient people did, or we can enjoy the good moments we have.

On Facebook, one day, I posted the slogan used by BYU TV, (Channel 11-2 for those on the antenna). Their slogan is, See the Good In the World. I mentioned it, because I had grown weary of all the negative that people dwell on. It’s so easy to get caught up. Between political viewpoints, disease, and disaster, it is hard to see the wonders our planet offers.

I admit, I’m one of the negative ones, but its destroying my health, not to mention my sanity.

So, I implore you, for your own sanity, take the advice of the slogan and see the good in the world. Good is easy to find in the warmth and beauty of a newborn child, being witness to an act of service, and the beauty and splendor of spring.

For many years our ancestors prayed incessantly that winter would be replaced by spring, that rain would come, and seeds would grow. When those prayers were answered, those people were so grateful, they celebrated. How many of us celebrate Spring? Our faith tells us life will change, wars will increase, disasters will come. People will suffer, but this year, I’m grateful for green grass, and leaves on trees.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Chapter Twenty

By Keith N Fisher

It’s been a busy week. I’m sure you could say the same, but I’ve lost track of what day it is. Well, I know it’s Saturday because Gaynell posted yesterday. I worked nine hours last night at the place where I began my convenience store career. It was like walking down the halls of my Jr. High School as an adult.

On Thursday, we cooked for the faculty and staff of Foothill Elementary. I haven’t cooked in Dutch ovens for that many people in a year and I had to remember how to make some things.

On Wednesday night, I had the ladies from my critique group over. I had to load the Dutch oven stuff into the truck and they figured it would be best to have critique at my house. I read chapter twenty from Star Crossed. It has been a while since I’d seen this chapter and there was a brief moment when I got lost.

After the ladies left, I sat there thinking about all the projects I have finished. Star Crossed is waiting for critique, but The Hillside is at the publisher’s, The sequel to The Hillside is waiting until I know the status of the Hillside. Currently, I’m writing Shadow Boxing, and looking into resurrecting some old manuscripts.

While reading one of them, I realized how much my writing had changed. Yes, I’m a better writer now, mostly because of the aforementioned ladies, but I also write differently. Like working in the old store, walking through the pages of Eternal Tapestries was familiar, but intimidating. Reading chapter twenty brought me back to my state of mind while writing it. Cooking, although the threat of screwing up was intimidating, It’s a skill that will always come back to serve me.

Writing well, is a skill that cannot be learned. We must continue to improve or die trying. The editor in all of us balks at something that doesn’t sound right. If we wrote it, we cringe and fix it according to our current skill level. We read other writer’s work and glean tricks and skills from them. I read chapter twenty and noticed a few places that needed fixing.

May we never think we are the best writer we could be. Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

A Day of Joy

By Keith N Fisher

We’ve all done it. Every writer has been there, staring at a work in progress and not been able to add another word. I suppose confession is good for the soul, so I admit I’ve suffered from this dilemma. It’s been tough lately, to continue.

Many people edit during those times, and I have plenty to do, but I hate doing it. I love to sit down and let a story take me where it needs to go. As I said, that hasn’t happened for a while.

In my associations and reading blogs, I’ve found many others who’ve also suffered. I sympathize with you.

Yesterday morning, however, I woke up with an idea for my WIP and sat down to write. Before I knew it, a day had passed, and I had written several chapters. Yes, it felt good, and I felt validated. With all the health problems I’ve had during the past year, I had plenty of time to write, but couldn’t bring myself to it. Yesterday, the tide came in, then last night, a crisis took the wind out of my sails.

Now, I’m not telling you all this to solicit any responses from our readers here at the blogck. Well, perhaps recognition that we are all the same. So, why am I telling you this?

One of my favorite movies is Stranger Than Fiction. Big surprise right? A writer who likes a movie about writing and how characters relate. The writing and acting in that movie is impressive. The way the author agonizes over every word then, to suffer when she discovers her character is real and she must kill him off.

Ideas for stories have always come to me full-blown. I’ve known the beginning middle and end from inception. In one story, the tear filled climax was so powerful for me that getting there was easy. All I had to do was explain the story. There have been books, however, that knowing the end made it difficult. In my book, The Hillside, for example, I’ve written nine different points of view and five completely different plots. I needed five different endings and each plot needed to effect the others.

Also, in the past, I’ve kept several projects open to work on whichever strikes me on that day. I haven’t been able to do that lately, and my current project is difficult. It’s a mystery/suspense and I’m having trouble keeping the tension up. In addition, I’m discovering the story as I go. Well, I know why my character is being pursued but the details have eluded me.

So I’ve trudged through it, knowing my writing is better than it used to be. Feeling empathy for those who are struggling, and hoping for a time of enlightened joy. A time when the words come so fast I can barely write them. That happened for me yesterday, and I’m grateful.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Be Accurate--Check Your Facts

By Keith N Fisher

I sat on my front porch trying to fix a corrupt file in order to submit a manuscript the other day. By the time I got it fixed and in the email my battery was flashing warnings. I sent the required documents before my computer slept, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Later, I plugged my computer in and reviewed my cover letter. I found two typos.

“Oh crap,” I thought. “They’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

While stewing about my blunder I thought of a subject I’ve written about before, but I found new object lessons, so I’m back on my soapbox.

I watched an interview the other day in which Lavell Edwards and Ron Mcbride talked a lot about the good old days. For those who don’t live in Utah, they were head football coaches for BYU and U of U. The rivalry between those two schools has been legendary.

The interviewer asked many questions that seemed to spark joyful responses in both men and you could tell they have a warm affection for each other. Many of their recollections brought memories back to me.

Toward the end of the program they spoke about the information age. They agreed they don’t use email and went on to complain about the inaccuracy of some of the blog writers and amateur newscasters on the Internet today. Even the pros, it seems, often get it wrong. Coach Mcbride talked about listening to the radio while driving one day. The radio host got the story completely wrong.

I thought about the absurdity of the situation: here was Ron Mcbride, the man who lived the events, listening to someone tell him how it really was.

As writers of fiction, many of us feel a need to blog. I write weekly here. Also, I write a more personal blog with book reviews and a blog about camp cooking. On occasion, I have gotten things wrong, so I know the danger. I’ve seen ill-advised Facebook statuses that should not have been written, and everyone knows about the possible errors on Wikipedia. I wonder if we will lose our history to those who write inaccuracy. Perhaps we might, if they write loud enough and long enough.

Just because we want a fact to be true doesn’t make it so. Still, if you get enough people to believe your version, does that change history?

As writers, regardless of whether we write fiction or nonfiction. Whether we blog or write short stories, we must be accurate. If we fail, the loss of our history will be partly our fault. Medical doctors take an oath. Perhaps writers should, too.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Does the Light Go Out?

By Keith N Fisher

Do you remember the old debate about the refrigerator light? Does it really go out when you close the door? Another one in the same vein was, if a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody around to hear, does it make a sound?

In our world today, we seek after absolutes. Many of the philosophical debates are cast off in favor of logic. Yet, in the world where writers live, there is conjecture. We think of the tree falling. Not only does it make a sound for us, but also as a dying creature the tree screams as it falls. Then, after it hits the ground, it moans it’s last breath.

Of course the light stays on in the fridge. How else would the creatures see? I remember spending long hours as a child, on my belly staring into the blades of grass. In my imagination, I saw another world. Not unlike the big one I lived in. When I got older, I stopped thinking about the vast jungle in our front lawn and tried to delve into the mysteries of the female heart.

Trees falling and refrigerator lights were nothing as compared to the age-old question, does she? Or doesn’t she? Think of the man picking petals off a daisy, hoping to discover the answer.

Now, I’m older. I’m a writer with several stories in my computer and in my head. Some are finished books most are unfinished. While thinking about a character the other day, something sparked a new debate in my mind. What happens to my characters when I stop writing for the day? Like the refrigerator light, do they just turn off?

There was a character in the Star Trek the next Generation series who came back a couple of times. He was created when Data was playing Sherlock Holmes in the holodeck. Jordi who was playing Dr. Watson, asked the computer to create a mystery that Data couldn’t solve. The Computer created a Moriarity character who was aware. He knew who, and what, he was.

The problem arose, when the character came back and complained about the unbearable length of time he spent, waiting for someone to deal with his situation.

As a writer over the years, I’ve put aside many outlined stories in favor of another, more immediate story. I get back to most of them on occasion, but some of them have waited a long time. I’ve created characters that haven’t seen the limelight of being written about for years. Like Moriarity, do they feel the passage of time?

Of course, this is crazy, but I’m a writer, I deal in conjecture. Any writer will tell you their characters talk to them. Some of them even hijack a story. Do my characters get angry when I ignore them? What do you suppose would happen when the murderous antagonist from my old west story crossed over into my coming of age?

Sounds like good fodder for another project. The characters are already written.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Being Qualified to Overcome Fears

By Keith N Fisher

The Conference is underway, and the classes are terrific. I’m also getting reacquainted with friends, colleagues, and publishers. Do you remember my post a few weeks ago when I talked about Star Wars and what I’d like to see in the next movies? Well, yesterday, I listened to the man who wrote the stories.

Kevin J Anderson was our keynote speaker at the conference, and I’m scheduled to take a class from him this morning. In his address, Kevin talked about being given the opportunity to write Star Wars stories and he wrote the trilogy that I wished for. Kevin has enjoyed a wonderful career writing more books than I could read in . . . well, it would take a long time. He also co-authored a book with Dean Koontz.

Kevin ended his speech by pointing out his career has gone the way it has because he was willing and ready to act when the opportunity came along. I thought about that and wondered if I would be ready. Like many of you I’ve always thought of my writing as a personal thing. I want to pick my projects and do them, my way.

That isn’t to say, Kevin hasn’t written his stories his way, but I’ve turned down opportunities to write biographies and other write on demand projects. My reasons have always been my unwillingness to give up my independence. Now, I’m wondering how many career making chances I’ve boggled.

I talk a big talk about my dedication to this craft, but am I really just afraid? If George Lucas offered me a chance to write what Kevin wrote, I would be honored, but would I do it? Fear of failure runs deep in my life.

Many years ago, my father pulled some strings to get me into the Milrights local of the carpenters union. I didn’t know much then. In fact, most apprentices could show me up without effort. I kept my head down and paid attention learning more about precision tools for alignment everyday. I worked on several projects as an apprentice. Then, the business agent sent me on a job out of state. I’m sure he thought he did my father a favor by sending me out as a journeyman, but it was obvious to the crew that I was a fake.

I did my best and ended up replacing the decking on a cooling tower. I also retrieved dropped tools from inside. Imagine climbing into a framework of hot wood with hot water dripping down on you. The rising steam makes you feel like a steamed lobster.

The point of the story is qualifications. There were many things taught to me by my father, including balancing a drive shaft for a turbine, but I knew I wasn’t qualified and I was frightened. That, I believe, holds me back in my writing. After all, I’m not an English major. In fact I failed the subject in high school. Is that too much info? Do you think less of me now?

It’s time to move on. I’m not getting any younger. I’m going to accept the offers that come my way. Then, if in the meantime, my fiction gets published, I will be able to look back on the career I always wanted, but felt unqualified for.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week